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The point of Erebus’s rapier flicked past his ear—close enough to nearly shear strands of hair off—and Jupiter again wondered why he’d ever agreed to this.
“Careful,” he warned him.
Erebus just flashed him a fangs-bared grin and pressed forward, lashing out in a series of blows that he parried, stepping in a circle with him. “Don’t tell me to be careful, Jupiter. You just need to get better at avoiding my rapier.”
“It doesn’t work that way,” he said, sighing as he took a step back. “Please.”
He hadn’t even wanted to use their real blades. He’d already pulled the dull training rapiers from the training room’s cabinet when Erebus had scoffed and looked at them like he’d offered him a spoon from the palace’s kitchens; then Saturn had hopped up onto the table beside the door and leaned forward with a sugary sweet, “He’ll be careful, Jupi! Why don’t you two use the real blades? A little practice can’t go amiss.”
And he was right. A little practice wouldn’t go amiss.
But this…
Circling to his left, Jupiter kept a careful eye on Erebus and his extended rapier. He was becoming more and more adept with it again, using the reach it gave him to the best of his ability—that and his own flexibility to quickly duck out of the way of his blows, moving in ways that made Jupiter’s own body ache in sympathy.
“I’m over here,” Erebus said, sword swaying. “Pay attention, Jupi.”
Saturn gasped. “That’s my nickname for Jupiter, you thief!”
Erebus turned his head, brow furrowing in disbelief. “You don’t own a nickname, Saturn, that’s—” Jupiter took advantage of his moment of distraction to lunge forward, using the weight of his own sword to knock Erebus’s out of his grip, where it landed with a clatter at his feet. When Erebus’s head jerked back, the point of Jupiter’s sword hovered right beneath the gem hanging on his chest, just barely poking into the fabric of his doublet. “Hey!”
“Be careful,” Jupiter told him, pressing his lips together against a wave of amusement.
He slowly dropped his sword, readjusting his grip on the hilt.
Erebus grumbled. “I hate you,” he said, bending to pick up his rapier from the floor.
“No, you don’t,” Saturn sing-songed, feet swinging beneath him. His perch on the table gave him the perfect line of sight to both of them, and he was taking clear advantage of it, his chin propped against the knuckles of one hand, his elbow against one knee. “You love us.” He batted his eyelashes. “And I love the sight of you two fighting, so back to it!”
“How demanding,” Erebus drawled. “You’re lucky I also love fighting.”
Jupiter momentarily turned his gaze to the ceiling and fought another sigh, then readied himself in a stance that was burned into his blood. “Not too many rounds after this, then. I know dinner is approaching, and I also happen to know neither of you ate much of lunch.”
Huffing, Erebus turned his rapier in his grip and brandished it in his direction.
“Be a little less watchful, would you?”
Jupiter fought a smile. “Apologies, but I’ll have to say no to that.”
Tongue clicking, Erebus shook his head. “I thought you’d say that.” He lunged forward without another word, and so Jupiter met him with equal fervor; shamefully, he’d originally considered going a little easy on Erebus, but he’d picked up his old skills easier than Jupiter thought he would. Now he didn’t have to consider going easy on him at all—that’d likely end in him losing more often than not, and he always did his best not to lose.
Well… most of the time.
He caught a glimpse of Saturn staring at them with a satisfied smile—one cheek smushed against his knuckles—and that time, he was the distracted one.
A sudden sharp pain snipped through his observation of his prince.
He jerked backwards on instinct, sword snapping up between them, but Erebus had already pulled the rapier away. Jupiter’s eyes jumped to where he’d felt the pain only to find his sleeve hung open in a neat slit just below the elbow, and under it, a thin red line was beginning to bead. Erebus’s grin had dropped completely. The gem flared where it rested against his chest, and he took half a step forward with his free hand lifting, claws out.
“Shit. Jupiter—”
“It’s a scratch,” he said quickly, turning his arm so that both of them could see it. It stung about as much as a paper cut. What he’d felt had mostly been from the surprise of feeling it more than actual pain. “I’m fine. Really. That was my fault.”
Still, Saturn had slid halfway off of the table. He stayed there with one boot on the floor and his eyes fixed on the cut, then eased himself back up, brows pinched in.
“Are you sure?”
“…Yeah, it was,” Erebus said, tipping his chin up. “That’s what you get for looking at him. I’m the one with the sword.” He lifted said sword, twisting it with a wink.
“I noticed,” Jupiter said dryly.
He deserved that one.
He’d have shouted himself hoarse at any guard in training who’d taken his eyes off of an armed opponent to look at a pretty face, but… well, Saturn wasn’t just any pretty face.
Far from it. Still.
“One more go,” he said, fixing his grip on the hilt of his own sword. “Then we’re finished.”
Erebus grinned, settling into stance opposite him. “So quickly? What, you’re afraid I’ll manage to get you again? Just don’t look at Saturn, even if he is distracting.”
“Oh, how sweet. I’m distracting?”
Neither of them looked at Saturn.
“Yes,” Jupiter admitted, surprisingly—or not so surprisingly—echoed by Erebus, who groaned audibly after he said it, eyes flicking away. “I’m used to keeping an eye on you, Saturn.”
Saturn just clapped his hands together and made an aww sound.
“How sweet,” he repeated. “You two are distracted by my watching your spars? Well, I’ll do my best to not be so distracting this time.” Jupiter finally looked at him only to be met with a hand-waving gesture and a sing-songy, “On you go! I’m watching.”
That was the problem, wasn’t it?
Oh, well.
Neither he nor Erebus said anything else, just let their eyes meet across the room before they both nodded, silently agreeing they were both ready.
As he lunged, Erebus’s rapier seemed to come from three directions in the space of a breath, high and then low and then high again, and he gave ground steadily as he turned each blow aside with the flat of his sword. The clang of steel rang off of the stone walls. Somewhere to his left, Saturn hummed appreciatively, and he very carefully kept his gaze on the slit pupils in front of him.
Erebus’s eyes always did that when he was enjoying himself. Did he know they did?
“Stop backing up,” Erebus complained, following him. “Hit me. Get me back for that one.”
He overreached by a hand’s width, his arm stretching just a little too far past his front foot in his eagerness to tap the point against Jupiter’s shoulder, but it was enough. Jupiter stepped in instead of back, letting the thin blade slide harmlessly past his ribs as he caught Erebus’s wrist in his free hand and twisted. The rapier clattered to the floor for the second time that afternoon. Erebus swore, startled, and tried to duck out from under his arm with the same boneless flexibility he’d been using all day, so Jupiter hooked a boot behind his ankle and pulled.
He let go of his own sword on the way, sending it skidding well out of reach of either of them, and managed to slip a hand behind Erebus’s head a moment before it could hit the floor beneath them, then landed with a knee on either side of Erebus’s hips and the wrist he’d caught in his other hand pressed to the floor beside a spill of midnight-blue hair.
For a moment, the training room was quiet aside from their breathing.
Erebus blinked up at him with his pupils blown round, his chest heaving under Jupiter’s arm. The gem was glowing brightly enough to paint the underside of his jaw blue. His free hand had come up to grip Jupiter’s sleeve right beside the tear he’d put in it, claws pricking through the fabric without quite reaching skin, and even through his sleeve the cold of his fingers was a small shock after so much exertion. Jupiter stared at him, breathing hard.
Had he been too rough? He’d only meant to end the round, not to---
“This is so romantic,” Erebus said flatly. “You. Practically sitting on me like this.”
Jupiter blinked, confused. “Romantic?”
Saturn laughed from his perch. “Erebus! You’re so weird, darling. You know Jupiter just wanted to end the fight so he could get us off to dinner!” The sound of feet hitting the wooden floor finally jarred him into movement as he released Erebus’s wrist and head, climbing to his feet before offering a hand down.
Erebus accepted the hand, fingers curling into his as he allowed himself to be pulled to his feet.
“Really? We couldn’t have gone for just a bit longer? I was just getting warmed up.”
“We’ve been sparring for at least two hours now,” Jupiter told him. “I think that’s plenty.”
Huffing, Erebus scooped his rapier off the floor and handed it over, then crossed his arms. “Mhm. I’m sure you only sparred for a couple of hours at a time when you were training as a guard, right?”
“You aren’t training as a guard.” Jupiter fetched his own sword, sheathed it, and set Erebus’s rapier in the cabinet for now—he’d have to come by after dinner to pick it up, but that was easier than carrying it to the dining room with them—before turning back around to him. “So, you don’t need to worry about what that was like.”
“I’m not worrying!” he shot back. “But I am saying I can take more.”
“And I simply—”
Saturn slid between them, one hand on either of their chests. “Calm down, you two! There’s no need to get heated, not unless you’re going to start kissing in front of me.” He paused as if he expected them to do exactly that just because he’d said it. “Sigh.”
“Don’t say sigh,” Erebus said, making a face. “That’s dumb, Saturn.”
“It conveys an emotion that sighing itself doesn’t,” Saturn told him. “And besides that, I’m actually rather hungry. All of that paperwork this morning gave me a headache at lunch, and Jupi’s right. I didn’t eat as much as I should have.” He patted Jupiter, who actually sighed, chest rising and falling beneath his hand. “So! Let’s get back to this another time. I’m sure the kitchens have something lovely planned for dinner. Aren’t you hungry as well, Erebus?” He leaned in, cupping both hands on Erebus’s cheeks.
Erebus’s eye twitched.
“I could ask them to make you something special!”
“Don’t squish me like that,” Erebus said, huffily pushing away his hands. “And fine! Dinner it is.”
“Grand!” Saturn wheeled on him. “But first, I think we need to take our darling Jupi to the infirmary. That scratch needs to be cleaned up, and we both know he won’t go himself.” Erebus snickered.
Jupiter resisted the urge to sigh yet again. “Are you ever going to let that go?”
Both of them spoke.
“No!”
“Of course not.”
Jupiter sighed again, unable to resist it that time. “Alright.”