Archive of Our Own

It had been dusk when Price had invited himself into the Prince’s room. And while he did not want to pull himself away from the embrace Kyle had him in, he was aware he had little choice. It was near midnight now, moonlight heavy through the drapes. He wanted to stay under the blankets for as long as time would let them. However, he did not have the luxury of foregoing sleep that night.

Price let out a heavy sigh and dragged his fingers though Kyle’s nape. The younger blinked up at him, a pleased look dawned on his face.

“Pleased, your highness?’ Price teased.

Kyle dragged his silk blanket and draped it over them. He hummed, “Oh yes, Captain Price. Excellent work.”

Price bit his lip, fingers finding the silk to remove it. He reluctantly removed himself from the miniature heaven that was a bed with Kyle in it. He soothed Kyle’s put with a gentle caress to the cheek. 

“Sorry, Love. You know I can’t stay.”

Kyle clicked his teeth, “When? When can I see you next?”

Price replied as he pulled his pants up to his waist, “I’ll find you; Within the next few days, Prince.”

“And when after that? When can I keep you?” He retorted, slight bitterness in his voice.

Price tried to focus on buttoning his shirt, eyes flicking up as he replied, “You know tensions are high right now. We can’t afford to slack.”

Kyle sat up, blanket draped over him in a way that reminded Price of holy robes. He tried not to get lost in the idea.

“The Kingdom can’t afford the slack. We are a different story.”

Price fumbled with the bottom button like he wasn’t done— finished dressing and stalling for time.

“You and I have lives here. Family. You can argue to abandon them to war, but I won't.” 

Kyle sneered, “My family has dictated I be married to a princess in which I have no interest.”

Price sighed and ran a hand though his hair, damp with sweat. “You love your family even if they’ve betrothed you… After this conflict is resolved and not a second before. I will whisk you away to any corner of the damn country if that is what you wish but not now.”

Kyle didn't fight with him, lip stuck out in protest, but his mouth did not open. It was a type of brattiness Price was used to. Kyle dropped his head back down onto the pillow and let his arm stretch out above him. Price tried not to watch the motion too closely.

“Prince John says his domain is quite nice…”

Price rolled his eyes, “Aye. If that's what you desire, my prince.”

Kyle hummed, “Don't be long. And get some rest, Captain.” There was more brewing behind his lips, something they were both familiar with. Something that did not have to rear its ugly head tonight. Something he would rather not have staining his thoughts for the coming days.

Price nodded his head, more formal than necessary; like he hadn't taken apart his sweet Prince with his hands just a few minutes ago. They were closer than this hollow response. Although they could not acknowledge lingering thoughts without compromising their time together. 

“Three days.” He echoed as he escaped through a crack in the door, light leaving a sliver in the room until the door closed. “Three days,” he repeated to himself quietly.

How long Kyle stared at the closed door, he wasn't sure. Eventually fatigue and frustration overcame the tears in his eyes. Kyle spun around in bed, facing the cold wall and empty side of the room. Three days. Three more days. 

-

Three days came and went. Within those three days, tension became action. They'd been close to the edge for weeks, but two days after their last encounter, War crawled out of the split ground beneath them. 

Three days turned into three weeks and into three months. After six, a soldier turned up to his quarters late in the night. Had Kyle not recognized him, he'd have assumed he was an assassin.

Kyle recognized Riley anywhere. And only due to his presence, Kyle assumed the worst. Dozens of horrible ideas swam through his head, so much he was certain Riley could see the anxiety on his face.

“Is he…?” Kyle asked, eyes drawn to the rug on the floor. 

Riley hesitated, “He… We don't know. It's been a week. We've recovered no body. There's always a chance…”

Kyle exhaled, body shaking at the moment. He couldn't fight the tears that pooled at his waterline.

“Your highness—” Riley started. 

Kyle interrupted him harshly, “You're dismissed, Riley… Captain Riley I assume?” He bitterly tacked on the end.

If Riley was offended he did not show it. He seemed to have the social skills of a fawn, Kyle noted in the back of his mind.

“Ah, temporarily, yes… I will not stop looking. The Captain… He helped me. Showed kindness when none was required. You have my word, my search will not end.”

Kyle's eyes had glazed over and he nodded. Regret pushed in his gut at Riley's response. He wiped his face and met Riley's eyes. The man did not meet his gaze at first.

He did when he spoke, “If he's alive, I'll find him.”

“Goodnight, Captain,” Kyle answered softly. Riley nodded back and stepped back before turning away entirely. He left Kyle at the door. He closed it before he could ruminate any longer; he felt more hollow than before. He yearned for the moment before Riley ever stepped near his threshold. For the moment he hadn't known his love was dead.

-

Months passed with no pleasant updates from Riley. The man sent letters to update him on the state of their men, their battles, and the time he put aside to search for the Captain. It had accumulated into nothing. 

Kyle grieved, spent days alone and not speaking a word. Yet he had to keep it contained. He was a Prince, one who had no wife and could not have any evidence of a lover– especially a man.

So he compacted it, heart aching like it needed out of his chest. He did not flinch, he could not afford it. Every day that passed was not easier, but made the possibility of Price being alive shink to a sliver in his mind.

Two months after Riley delivered the news of Price’s likely demise, Kyle had gotten married. Not that he'd ever wanted to. But it had been planned midway through his relationship with John. They'd both know it was coming. That did not make it any easier.

The war pushed his father to rush an alliance. There was no better way to secure such than to bid him out to be married.

Princess Farah was not what he'd expected. He was relieved to find she was as interested in him as he was in her. There was no push into romance or any love of that matter. She made it very clear to him, they were to be wed to join military forces and nothing more. And she had been pleasantly surprised when Kyle agreed without issue.

Despite this, they were still forced to share a room in the castle. It had taken a staged fight in front of Kyle's father to convince him to move another bed into Kyle's room, giving them the space they needed. This space helped calm the resentment they’d grown to have for each other. And despite it being a slow mend and slow growth, they got along as well as they could as those who were married loveless.

One late night revealed the reason she'd refused any chance of romance entirely. Alex Keller. 

Alex was a retired soldier, forced to leave after having his leg trampled and removed. He worked as a farmer now, having healed and recovered from such an injury. He'd been courting Farah for months. Yet they both knew, just as he and Price did, if they wanted to be together, they had to leave their family to do it. She was not yet ready. 

The longer he dwelled on it, the longer Kyle realized he hadn't been either. It was a dream. An unrealistic and childish dream that he'd been so enamoured with, he couldn't see reality. One that Price may not have ever committed to either. It seemed now, he would never know.

Kyle told her as much. She listened and offered her thoughts.

“Once this war is over, we are not bound here. We could leave together, Kyle.”

He'd scoffed, “I am stuck here even if you go. The man I loved is dead or missing. If he's missing, he needs to know where to come back to. If he's… well I cannot leave his memory.”

That night he stared up at the ceiling until sunlight speckled through the window into their room, eyes red and sore.

-

That summer, Farah left. It had not been a surprise nor something he protested. The war finally ended that spring in a truce, one that some did not trust. Farah did not care any longer. He did not blame her. Part of him wished to escape his life still. He was almost jealous of her. Though he would not leave the family and friends he had left. Price’s point from the last night they’d seen each other still rang in his skull when he thought about leaving.

It'd been hot that night, sweat stuck to skin and blankets had been tossed away. Farah asked him one last time if he really wanted to stay.

“Alex can always use another pair of hands. Despite how useless the hand of royalty may be. You are smart. You would have a place with us, Kyle.”

Kyle had smiled and gently pulled her into a hug, “You would find a legless mule of more help. Be safe. I will be here.”

Farah had bit her lip but nodded, almost solemn if not for the fact she was about to begin her new life. She left and was down the hallway in moments, a single bag cradled in her arms. And, like Price, Kyle had not seen her again since.

Kyle's father had been cross, but there was no proof Kyle had anything to do with it. He had even put on a show, one which convinced his mother and sisters. And despite his suspicion, his father did not challenge him.

After all, he'd slept soundly that night only to awaken to an empty bed.

Kyle pretended to mourn and spent his afternoons reading. His newfound loneliness had begun to plague the recesses of his mind. He'd not been alone in his room in nearly a year. The empty space where her bed used to be taunted him but he did not falter. It was better that way. Though that did not stop his mind from imagining how to fill that space.

-

Captain Riley was slightly more intimidating when he wasn't delivering bad news. Being socially inept didn't matter on the battlefield, a blade was a blade. No word made it sharper or duller.

Kyle learned this quickly as Simon— He'd learned was the man's name— became less occupied with war and more occupied with everyday life again. Simon had returned to the training grounds most days. Kyle took time to join said training.

It was not unusual for Princes to learn how to fight, but Kyle had been especially sheltered from it. His father had seen his cunning much before his fighting potential. He'd spent the last decade of his life learning politics and sociability. 

Now, something about the fight drew him in. John had done this himself. Everyone had to learn the basics, yet he found it hard to imagine John Price as a spry young man. Even the idea of the man without a beard seemed far-fetched. This thought however earned him a fond conversation with Riley while they shared a drink one afternoon.

“When Price recruited me, I was your age, and while he was four years my senior, he was still twenty-nine at the time… It was summer. Hotter than it is today. So humid you could feel the droplets in the air take form on your skin. The sun was just rising and we knew it would only get worse. The barracks were miserable. But the heat of that day was not the most memorable part, no it was the reaction to the heat.”

He took a long swig of his beer, eyes flicking over to the window before back towards the bar they sat, “We all showed up to training that morning a little early. Dew still on the grass. And in comes John Price. Beard and chops shaved clean off.”

Kyle had snickered at the image. Simon had nudged him, “He looked ridiculous. Like a shaved rat and we told him so despite the extra time he made us put in for it… Since then, despite the heat, I've never seen him without the beard. And I'm grateful for it.”

Kyle had a soft smile on his face, fondness taking hold of his chest. Then a bitter mourning that smacked it clean off. In the moment, Simon had sensed it as well, his smile dropping.

“When we find him, I'm sure—”

Kyle placed a hand on his arm to shush him and brought the mug to his lips, “He's dead, Simon. It's okay.”

He took a long drink and hoped the liquid fire would sooth the ache in his chest.

And that had been that.

-

Winter brought with it a sense of dread. That of which Kyle understood. Trees which had been teeming with life fell grey and empty. The stark white of snow enhanced the blue and grey of the kingdom. Winter was slow and sad.

Kyle tried to fill his days with his training. Simon was eager to help and a kind shoulder to lean on. Although, there were days where Simon was not interested. In fact, there were days Simon would not show up at all. He offered little explanation for them and did not apologize. Kyle had shrugged it off as a consequence of the season.

Kyle had spent many of those days sitting around in the cold with John on his mind. One day he spent entirely at the stables where he cared for John's horse— one of the few things that remained of him.

On one of these days, he received a letter. One he'd been waiting on for months. Prince John's handwriting had never been easy to read but he managed. It had been mostly filler, catch-up that Kyle had little energy to respond to. The end caught his eye.

This is the fourteenth letter that I've read many months later than it had been sent, and I'd prayed nothing important had been missed as I combed through them.

Captain Riley sent a letter regarding a man seasons ago. John Price. I know a man by this name with striking similarity to what you've described. I've sent more details to Riley. 

Kyle had dropped the letter before he was finished reading it, racing through the halls towards Simon's personal quarters. He'd nearly tripped over his own feet coming to a halt and banging against the door. The knocks echoed through the empty hall.

The door was harshly yanked open and Simon scowled at him, “What in the hell—?”

“The letter! Have you gotten a letter from Prince MacTavish?” Kyle rushed to get the words out of his mouth.

Simon looked exhausted but replied, “Yes, plenty. Why?”

“His letter this morning has information about Price. I need you to show me what he sent you.”

Simon looked baffled and turned his head. He reached over and grabbed the letter sitting on his desk which he'd received that morning, unopened.

He tore through the paper and unfolded the letter, reading it quickly, eyes dashing back and forth. He then pulled paper from behind the letter and his eyes widened. He offered it and Kyle took it slowly.

Simon spoke as he observed the familiar face hand sketched onto the paper, “... Inside I've included a sketch of the man I suspect may be the one you're looking for. He has served on my personal guard for six months since recovering from a head injury.”

Kyle folded the paper, eyes glazed over. Yet he was determined when he spoke, “I'm coming with you.”

Simon looked like he wanted to argue, opened his mouth with the intent but did not fight what came out.

“Dawn. Before your family wakes. Be at the stables.”

-

John tried not to dwell on the precipice which was his empty memories. His first memory was waking up with a splitting headache and blood dripping from his face. From there it was blurry. He must've passed out.

By the time he woke again, he was somewhere safer, cradled by a woman he did not recognize but had learned to trust after many weeks of caring for him.

Kate, she'd introduced herself as. And despite how she would deny it, the kind woman who often accompanied her was her wife. Price was not blind, but understood this to be unsafe to disclose immediately.

Kate had explained she found him half dead near a battlefield hours after it had been cleared out. Since there had been no move to claim a soldier, she assumed maybe he'd been caught in the crossfire. This however did not explain his armor and sword.

The mission to deal with his past however had to be put off due to the crippling migraines which accompanied his head injury. At the time, she worried blood was collecting in his skull and putting pressure into his brain. And she did not have the devices or skill to treat something like that.

Within the week she'd asked a favor of a close friend. Nikolai.

He'd spent the next week traveling with Nik to a city which they had the means to help. It had not been a peaceful trip, often interrupted with Price nearly collapsing in pain. Nik comforted him as best as he knew how to. Which was not much.

Price did find himself fond of the man. Nik was cheerful but deadly serious when needed. His humor had much to be desired but he was not unpleasant.

By the time their trip came to an end, Price knew he'd miss the man. Nik had just winked and waved him away.

“Allow them to heal you, friend. I will see you again, that is for sure.” And like that,  he was gone.

The next coming months had been stressful. By the time he was mostly healed, there was a gnarly scar starting at his hairline dragging down his face. There had been complicated treatments which did eventually reduce his headaches to a minimum. Although, the daunting task of payment began to loom over him. He'd no memory of his life, no clue how to get there, and no way to pay his owed debt to those who'd helped him.

He'd almost been grateful when an opportunity made itself known.

Upon offering to sell his armor to the blacksmith as a way to help pay for his treatment, the man had suggested he request to join the King's army. 

“You said you have no memory, yet you have such prestigious armor… You may have skills you're unaware of. If you can afford to keep it, I'd suggest you head up to the training grounds. They may help you there.”

Price had thanked him and taken his advice.

-

They had accepted him into the military quickly. The barracks offered a warm place to stay and food to eat without the guilt of leeching off the ones taking care of him. A few weeks of warmup and training was all it'd taken to get a Prince's attention. Although, Prince MacTavish was not scarce to the training grounds. He often participated in the fighting and training himself. He had a close group of guards at all times which he was allowed the responsibility to assign.

The Prince had questions to which John had few answers.

“I do not remember much from before my head injury. A few kind strangers helped me here. In fact, it was simply luck that I even knew I had any skill with a sword. Your blacksmith informed me of what weight my personal armor held, that I must've had some kind of skill.”

Prince John had been kind in response, “I've seen your work, I'd like for you to join my personal guard. Any debt you may owe will be paid. We take care of our own.”

And who was Price to deny? With few leads to his past life and little gold to follow up on them, he accepted.

Prince MacTavish was not hard to get along with. After months, it'd been easy to get to know him. He was also a handful and kept Price busy. Each day was spent with MacTavish in his duties and recreational spars– many of which Price had been invited to join.

Within the next few weeks, he’d felt accepted. He’d even shared a few drinks with MacTavish when their jobs allowed spare time.

John felt like he was a puzzle finally in place when Prince MacTavish approached him with a letter. He'd been a bit confused at the action until MacTavish began an explanation.

“A few hours to the south lies King Garrick's kingdom. I've had communication with his son and the Military Captain. I'll admit, I'm behind on letters. I've let the ones which seemed more personal sit on my desk for months. For that, I am regretful. Seasons ago, Captain Riley sent me a letter describing a man who'd gone missing. Captain of the guard and military. With the information you've told me, and the description provided, I'm almost certain you are the man they're looking for.”

Price was stunned at his words and even took the letter to read himself. Captain. He'd been a Captain?

“I know this is a lot of information, I want to send a letter back with a sketch of you to confirm. Is that okay?”

“Yes, your highness,” he replied hesitantly.

With that, MacTavish sped away and was back by the time Price had crossed the hall to catch up with him. The younger pushed him back into the room. He had a few pieces of parchment clutched in his hand. He nodded at Price to gesture to where he should stand.

“You'll have to pose, can't send them a lame sketch of their missing Captain now can we?”

Price faltered a bit, trying to figure out how he could possibly pose and not feel like a complete idiot.

MacTavish stopped him with a laugh and a wave of his hand, “I'm kidding. Just… sit. It won't take long.”

Price relaxed marginally and sat down, eyes down cast as he thought on what he'd been told.

He did have a life, he was an important figure, the damn Captain of the guard. Yet he was not saved by the knights or healers of the kingdom that should care for him, but was left half dead on a battlefield until Kate happened upon him. Was that worth going back to?

“Up, look up…,” MacTavish started, “What is it you're thinking?”

Price looked up to meet the Prince’s gaze. He hesitated, only because he was unsure how to order his thoughts. He had faith that the Prince would listen and consider his words.

“I'm wondering if it would be worth it to stay, if I am the one they're looking for.”

MacTavish hummed and the blunt side of his pen touched his lips, “Why wouldn't your life be worth going back to?”

“My life to them wasn't even worth enough to look for me. I was left for dead on a battlefield and would've died had a stranger not helped me,” Price finally replied.

MacTavish bit the pen and hummed, “Simon is not like that, he would've done everything in his power to find you.”

Price quirked an eyebrow, “And Simon is…?”

“Oh! Sorry, the Captain of the guard. Since you… I suppose it could still be you are not the man they're looking for. Yet you do have the same characteristics and name.”

Price blinked, “Name. His name is John Price?”

MacTavish rolled his eyes, “Yes. Your name is John Price. That is the man they're looking for. Are we on the same page now?” The pen scratched the page again.

Price nodded, still a bit baffled. It had been that easy. One letter, one requesting him by name. Yet, he still didn't know if he wanted to go back.

“And if I'd like to stay here?”

The pen stopped against the paper and MacTavish stared at him absurdly, “Then why the hell did you make me start this damn sketch if you had no wish to go back to your old life?”

Price turned his head, “No… I must. I must have friends and family. It would be unfair to make them wait anymore.”

MacTavish sighed and resumed his drawing, “You're quite sure of yourself,” he quipped sarcastically.

Price rolled his eyes, “And I'm sure had you lost your memory and were left for dead, you would be hesitant as well.”

MacTavish set down the pen and examined a part of the drawing as he spoke, “Well the letter proves they hadn't abandoned you. They simply missed you. It'd been sent months ago. When you would've been injured. They looked. And had I read the letter then, I might've forgotten they were looking at all. Really it's almost lucky I forgot to check my mail.”

Price sighed, “Your highness, would you suppose I thank you for being so forgetful?”

MacTavish shrugged, “It might be nice.”

Price sighed. As he ruminated he did eventually let out a soft, “Thank you.” 

They both understood it was not for forgetting to check his mail.

-

Simon was forever grateful it was only a day's trip because Kyle would've been pacing had he not been on a horse. Even knowing they were on their way to collect Price, the man could not stop the way he dwelled on every detail which led them to that moment.

“You never took the time to check in MacTavish's kingdom?” He asked for nearly the fourth time.

Simon sighed, “As I said, your highness, of course I did. I sent troops out for two weeks before I pulled them back for battle. He was not there within two weeks of being missing. That is the only explanation.”

Simon continued, “That is not what you should be focusing on. You are about to have your lover back. Be relieved, be excited, be happy. Do not scold me for something that is said and done.”

“Aye. I only hope he has not moved on to other beautiful young Princes,” Kyle sighed.

Simon rolled his eyes, “MacTavish is not a threat to your love life, I assure you.”

Kyle hummed, eyes glancing over in curiosity, “I wasn't aware you were so familiar with Prince MacTavish. Does he like blondes?”

Simon could not hide the blush that poured down his face if he wanted to.

“Shut it.”

“You wound me, Riley. Is that any way to talk to a Prince?”

Simon hummed, “No, of course not. My apologies. Let me amend my mistake, shut the hell up, Prince Garrick.”

“Much better.”

-

It was the night after Price’s conversation with MacTavish that the dreams started. Which led him to believe they were connected, that maybe his mind wanted him to know his life before he had a chance to get back to it.

He was plagued with dreams of a beautiful man, deep brown skin and eyes to match. He was often draped in blankets and sometimes Price joined him underneath them. They spoke constantly, fighting, talking, laughing, Price never woke up remembering the conversations. But he could remember the feeling in his chest which ached and pounded at the thought. He'd left a lover behind. He’d spent months in MacTavish’s castle while his lover was waiting for him. The thought left him cold and full of regret.

One morning he woke in sweat, ears ringing from the remnants of the battle he'd dreamed of. Yet a voice rang in his head, his own, “When this is over, Kyle. You'll be mine.”

Kyle. His lover's name was Kyle.

-

Price rolled his shoulder and hissed at the pinch. MacTavish eyed him but did not say a word. It was not like Price came out of his accident unscathed. He still had aches and pains. He had migraines sometimes, and often hurt in places he had no memory of being injured. 

McTavish usually nagged him about resting. That he should not push himself too far. Price despised the situation itself. His own body felt foreign to him sometimes.

Despite the internal urge to push forward in his training, Price sheathed his sword. He reached up to massage his shoulder, trying to ease the twinge of pain.

“Christ, can you just sit down, Price?”

Price begrudgingly sat down on a log. He spoke eventually, “I don't even remember how I managed to injure myself. It almost feels cruel.”

MacTavish sheathed his own sword and came to sit next to him. He sighed, “Whether you remember or not, you have to stay in top shape. Who else will make sure I'm not assassinated?”

Price rolled his eyes, “I have faith an assassin would run upon seeing you've lost your britches in your sleep.”

MacTavish huffed in amusement, “Their loss.”

The silence that overtook them wasn't unpleasant. No, they'd grown quite used to comfortable silence. Especially since Price knew MacTavish would never let it sit.

“Have you remembered anything since you've arrived here?” 

And what was he to say? Yes, your highness. I've remembered the love of my life whom I have no idea how to return to. Who I am not allowed to publicly love regardless.

“No, nothing substantial.” He settled on.

Prince MacTavish saw through him but did not call him out on it.

-

Price had been sparring with MacTavish when it happened. An out of breath soldier stumbled into the room.

“Prince Garrick has arrived. Your father has sent for you, it seems he is asking for you.”

MacTavish and Price both stopped and MacTavish sent him a concerned glance.

“Very well, I'll be over soon.”

The soldier nodded and returned in haste. MacTavish focused his full attention on Price.

“I had not realized how serious this was to Kyle. He did not even write back, and has immediately come to fetch you. Does that strike you as uncaring? I will not make you leave but you should make the decision.”

Price had only really heard half of the sentence, freezing at the name. Kyle. The Prince? Kyle Garrick?

The vision of his lover flashing against the back of his eyes and he nodded. 

“I must return. They need me.” He needs me. 

MacTavish eyed him in a way which gave away he understood more than he'd been told. He finally nodded and led the way. Price followed behind closely.

Every atom in his body shook in anticipation and he struggled not to rush MacTavish along. The Prince did however seem empathetic and kept his strides long for Price’s sake.

By the time they reached the archway which marked the entryway of the castle, there was already a bit of a crowd. Mostly soldiers in caution.

Prince MacTavish cleared through the crowd and Price followed closely behind. Each step felt like the ground might collapse underneath him. Sweat gathered on the back of his neck and he suddenly felt nauseous. Would this truly be the Kyle from his dreams? Or would he be walking into the servitude of someone he had no memory of and no fondness for?

Those thoughts were washed away at the man that stood before them. The dreams had done him little justice. As far as Price was concerned, he was the most beautiful thing he'd ever had the pleasure of laying his eyes on. Not a single jewel or gem compared to the brilliance that was Prince Garrick.

The look on his face as their eyes met told too much of the story he was unaware of. He'd never seen such sincere relief, eyes watering at the mere sight of him. John was soothed of any fears or uncomfortable ideas. He felt safe, like his home was merely steps away.

Sooner than he expected, they were trading pleasantries, and he shook Kyle's hand rigidity although they could both see in each other that they would much rather have more than that of a professional greeting.

“We did not expect you so suddenly, had a letter escaped your mind?” King MacTavish asked. Price had failed to hear him approach from behind, much too focused on the man in front of him.

Both Kyle and Simon bowed their heads in respect and Simon replied, “We apologize, your highness. We made haste. Price is a vital part of our army and a close personal friend. We left the moment we received your son's letter. We had assumed him dead.”

The King sent a quick look over to his son but nodded, “Very well. If John agrees to release Price of his duties, he may return.”

Prince MacTavish huffed, “He is not cattle. If he wants to go, he leaves. There is no argument here.”

That received a disgruntled look from the King but he did not respond in front of guests.

Eyes were on Price immediately and he nodded, “I must return.” It was simple now. There was no question in his mind, he would do whatever was necessary to leave with Kyle.

Simon quickly followed up, “Your highness, I apologize for the inconvenience my request may cause, but would you grant us shelter for the night? The sun will set soon and we would be grateful to get some rest before returning home.”

The King didn’t seem quite as happy about the idea but nodded politely. “Of course. I'll have John guide you to where you'll be staying. If you need anything, he will help you.”

Prince MacTavish withheld a sigh and nodded. Price almost laughed at the strength it must've taken him not to argue with his father. This was something he’d watched throughout the last few months.

“Yes, very well, follow me,” the Prince hummed and led them away.

Kyle watched as King MacTavish dismissed the guards as they were led further into the castle's halls. Hospitality was quite important in keeping relations, but Kyle was relieved they would not have a platoon of guards following them around.

Kyle had caught up to Price's strides and sent a quick glance over. Price met his eyes and words were spoken without a sound. There was so much to say and they were both relieved as MacTavish stopped at a door. He glanced over their shoulders before speaking.

“The room next door is also empty. I suggest you put your things in there even if you are not, just to be cautious,” MacTavish hummed.

Price flushed and Kyle looked a little frazzled but nodded.

“Thank you, John.” Price quickly responded.

MacTavish grinned and pulled Simon along with him across the hall. They turned a blind eye to the duo entering a single room as they did so themselves.

Almost immediately Price found himself pressed against the wall next to the door. Kyle had practically collapsed in his arms, head buried in his shoulder.

“Christ, how the hell did you get here? And why the hell didn't you come back?” Kyle could not hold back his quick anger. His hands grasped either of Price’s arms and threw his head up.

“I… I'm sorry, I didn't know where to go back to,” Price admitted.

The change in Kyle's posture was immediate, his hands loosened and he exhaled slowly.

“They said that you had a head injury… are you…?”

Price seemed regretful, “I'm sorry, Prince Garrick. My memories of you are fleeting. I've only been graced with dreams. The life we may have lived is gone now.”

Kyle seemed sad, face morphed into a frown. He reached forward and gently cupped Price’s face. He dragged his thumb over the long scar which nearly ended his life.

“The dreams… What were they about?”

Price hesitated, “...They were… Languid. Mostly underneath a blanket and quiet conversations. I don't remember nearly any words spoken by the time the sun rises. I just remembered… you. The feelings I felt while you were there with me.”

Kyle stared up at him, lip between his teeth. He looked away, pulling back just a step.

“Do you truly want to come back with us? You've made a life here, I won't pull you away for something you can't remember.”

Price reached forward to take his hand, “Kyle. You have been the only thing I've remembered for months. The way I feel about you… is the only feeling I've been able to remember of my whole life. Does that now show you how important you were to me; how important you are to me?”

Price swallowed, “No. I cannot remember how we met, the things we've done. Yet I do remember the way you've made my heart beat with purpose. If you'll have me, I would like to return. And I would like to have you once more.”

Kyle smiled, “Of course. It's what I came here for. Memories or not, I want you back.”

Price hummed, gently dragging his fingers up Kyle's arm. The touch left his arm tingling.

“May I kiss you, my Prince?”

Kyle nodded and immediately closed the gap, feeling like he could finally breathe as their lips met. He'd been drowning all this time, convinced Price was dead and gone forever.

The feeling of warm live hands over his skin, on his body helped soothe the thought. Price was alive, he was here. Alive. With him.

When the sun rose the next morning, it felt warmer than it had been in months.

-

The transition back into his old life was a little frustrating but not hard with Simon by his side to guide him. Riley found a certain fondness in the way he was now being the teacher, explaining that Price had taught him nearly everything he knew.

It made him proud in a sad way and hoped to remember one day. Simon was a man he could be proud of.

His job was a bit easier than navigating his relationship with Kyle. Life was busy and being restricted to the confines of candlelight at night did not help at all. Price had many nights he slept merely a handful of hours to make time. Simon would often remark on his grumpiness to which Price would often offer to remove his arms from his body.

Kyle said he was happy with the arrangement, and said he would continue the way it was. Price was not satisfied. If he had a choice, he would rather leave. He no longer wanted to hide away from the world like what they had was shameful.

He'd discussed it with Kyle a few times but the Prince always shot down the idea, and for what reason he could never discern. He knew it was something he would not mention, and had only made up excuses to avoid the conversation.

Price was frustrated this time around, having slept merely four hours left him antsy and irritable.

“So, when Kyle? How long must we wait? I will do anything to keep you but I cannot continue to hide away like I'm something to be ashamed of!”

Kyle frowned, “I’m not ashamed of my love for you. You know why we can't share this, you know they'd banish you or worse.”

Price tsked, “Then we leave. Anywhere. I will take you anywhere if you would just come with me.”

Kyle sighed and ran a hand over his face, “What of my family? Of Simon?”

It was a hollow excuse that he did not mean with his heart and Price knew it. He saw through Kyle. Price stopped, mouth half open to respond. He did not make it that far and blinked.

“We… We've had this conversation before,” he spoke suddenly.

Kyle softened. His face contorted in a sad way, “We have.”

Price tilted his head, a slight confusion still apparent on his face, “Yet… We've swapped sides.”

Kyle repeated softly, “We have.”

“Why? You'd been so… insistent,” he recalled. It was scattered in bits and pieces, a conversation they had a thousand times blurring into one.

Kyle turned his head. But he was not afraid to bare his soul to John. He'd been avoiding it too long.

“I… I worry we'll go… And you'll remember that I wasn't worth it anymore. That in the months we did not see each other during the war that you… stopped wanting me. I don't want you to regret being with me, abandoning your life for me…”

Price huffed, which Kyle immediately took as dismissal. Price grabbed his arm before he could retreat.

“You are my beating heart. You are my soul. The blood in my body only runs for you. No memories long passed would make me forget that. No argument or fight would make me stop loving you. I will love you whether all of my memories return tomorrow or never again.”

Kyle let out a breath and wiped at his eyes to keep the tears threatening to spill at bay.

“You're certain?”

Price cupped his face gently, “My love, you are the one and only thing I've been certain of my whole life.”

They were still for a few moments before Kyle finally replied, “I know somewhere we could go.”

Price looked at him in surprise but did not argue.

“Where?”

Kyle stepped away and dug through a drawer, he pulled out a piece of paper which had been folded to be small. He handed it over to Price.

“When you disappeared, my father had me married. Her name was Farah, a Princess in the north. She had also been in love with someone she could not have. Before she left, she told me where I could find her if I ever needed to… She said I was welcome.”

Price glanced over the paper and folded it up. He stuck it in his pocket and nodded.

“When do we leave?” Price asked softly.

Price did not care when they left, would wait years if Kyle asked him to.

Kyle stepped forward, close enough to feel each other's breaths. He pulled Price into a kiss. It was soft, unhurried and gentle. Over in moments. One that left him begging for more.

“Dawn. Before my family wakes.”

Price nodded, still holding on to Kyle's nape, “Dawn it is.”