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Laurent and Damen rode side by side. A gentle breeze played with the colorful banners bearing the combined symbols of Vere and Akielos. Their journey to Arles marked yet another significant milestone in their reign, and the amalgamation of their kingdoms
Damen's gaze wandered over the horizon, but it always found its way back to Laurent. He found himself mesmerized by his husband's presence. Their time in Akielos' sun-drenched climate had failed to bronze Laurent's fair complexion. It was as if Laurent's skin refused to yield, stubborn like the young king himself. Damen didn't mind in the slightest.
Caught in his reverie, Damen realized that Laurent had noticed his gaze. A flicker of amusement danced in Laurent's piercing blue eyes, and a smirk played at the corners of his lips. Laurent's eyes held an enigmatic depth that Damen could never fully fathom. They had seen both the darkness and the light, the pain and the triumph, and still managed to retain their undying resilience.
"You appear captivated," Laurent said.
"I am."
A commotion near one of the wagons drew their attention. One of the horses was in apparent distress, and Damen knew how Laurent would respond before his husband moved. While Laurent remained unpredictable to most, there were some, few, matters Laurent allowed to be seen: his love for horses was one of those.
Without hesitation, Laurent urged his own steed to slow down, bringing the entire procession to a gentle halt. He dismounted, his movements careful and precise, as he approached the troubled horse.
Damen moved closer as well, and made a gesture that stopped Jord and Lazar in their tracks. They took over from there, making sure no one else tried to rush closer.
Laurent's presence alone seemed to have a calming effect on the animal, as if recognizing a kindred spirit. With a soothing voice and steady hand, he approached the horse, speaking in hushed tones, his touch reassuring.
"Easy," Laurent murmured, his voice a soothing melody. "It's all right. You're safe."
The horse gradually settled, its anxious energy dissipating as Laurent's gentle touch reassured it. He turned to the handler.
"Step away, take the horses."
The man responsible for the horses acknowledged Laurent's instructions and diligently set about his task, unfastening the two horses and leading them away from the compromised wagon.
Curiosity pulled Damen closer to Laurent's side.
"Stay back!" Laurent ordered, urging Damen to keep a safe distance.
Damen didn't retreat, his gaze fixed on Laurent, and his protective instincts kicking in.
Laurent's focus was directed towards the wheel, his eyes tracing the damage. Damen reached out to his husband, just as Laurent was about to step away.
The wheel, burdened by its weakened state, finally succumbed, shattering into pieces. Chaos erupted in the aftermath, obscuring Damen's vision with swirling sand and debris.
His heart pounding in his chest, Damen fought through the haze. Then he saw. Laurent's right leg was trapped under part of the wagon. He was bleeding, and in pain.
He looked up; his eyes found Jord's shocked ones. "Get Paschal," Damen said.
He sank to his knees beside Laurent. His initial instinct to touch Laurent's right shoulder was thwarted as he noticed the telltale signs of a dislocation. Instead, he brushed aside a stray golden lock of hair, offering a gentle touch to Laurent's forehead.
Laurent's voice, laced with a hint of wry humor, cut through the tension. "Is it just me?" he asked, a slight smile gracing his lips.
Damen's heart ached at the contrast between Laurent's lightheartedness and the severity of their circumstances. "Yes. Yes, it's just you," he replied, his voice filled with both love and concern.
"Good."
Damen shook his head, unable to accept Laurent's dismissive response. This was far from good, and they both knew it. Damen grasped Laurent's left hand firmly.
Paschal's arrival was a relief, but not an immediate solution.
"Your Majesty, Exalted," Paschal's voice cut through Damen's thoughts. The physician's gaze focused on the extent of Laurent's injuries. Before Paschal could proceed, he needed to ascertain the sources of Laurent's pain.
His tone gentle, Paschal inquired, "Where are you hurting, Your Majesty?"
Laurent's response was measured, his voice betraying a hint of strain. "My leg... and my shoulder," he admitted.
"Anywhere else? Your chest?" Paschal asked, seeing the torn Veretian fabric near Laurent's ribs.
"Nothing that requires urgency."
Paschal seemed to accept Laurent's explanation with a small nod. His eyes were on Damen now. "Exalted, I'm in need of your assistance. I need access to his shoulder."
Paschal turned his attention to Laurent's right leg, his skilled hands gently probing and assessing the extent of the injury.
Damen's focus shifted from Laurent's face to the blade offered by Lazar. It dawned on him, as he took the blade, that Lazar and the others were poised to assist in moving the wagon as soon as Paschal gave the order.
"I'm sorry," Damen murmured, his eyes meeting Laurent's, brimming with concern. He knew that the pressure he exerted on Laurent's injured shoulder would cause further pain. It reminded him of when he had pressed down on Laurent's shoulder on purpose, after Charcy. He didn't need confirmation this time.
Laurent's stoic expression softened slightly, a flicker of understanding crossing his features. It was a subtle acknowledgment, a wordless assurance that Laurent recognized Damen's intentions and bore no resentment towards him.
Damen cut through the laces of Laurent's sleeve. Removing Laurent's clothes was the easy part, for once. It worried Damen a great deal that Laurent didn't comment on the matter. Once they were finally removed, the true extent of the dislocated shoulder became painfully clear. Damen couldn't help but wince at the sight, his heart sinking.
Seeking guidance, Damen turned his gaze towards Paschal, their eyes meeting in a silent exchange. It was an unspoken request for direction, an acknowledgment of Paschal's expertise and authority in matters of healing. Paschal, understanding the unspoken plea, moved closer to Laurent, positioning himself where he could be seen and heard.
"Your Majesty," Paschal's voice was gentle yet authoritative. "I've stabilized your leg for now, but please be aware that it may start bleeding again once we free you. Given the severity of your shoulder injury, I recommend setting it first."
Laurent gave a curt nod. "Do it."
Paschal moved closer, his experienced hands gently assessing the injury. He turned to Damen once more. "Help him sit up, please. Support him."
Damen cradled Laurent's back with his hands as he positioned himself behind Laurent, offering a steady foundation for Laurent to lean against.
"Your Majesty? I need you to relax as much as possible. It will make the process easier."
Damen felt the tension in Laurent's body as he braced himself. He could tell Laurent was trying to relax, but there was only so much relaxing one could do under these circumstances.
With a deliberate motion, Paschal took hold of Laurent's arm, ready to manipulate the dislocated joint back into place.
Laurent's pained cry pierced the air, reverberating within Damen's chest, followed by a long string of Veretian expletives. Laurent's breaths came in uneven bursts.
"Breathe, Laurent. I'm here," Damen whispered, for Laurent's ears only. He held Laurent's left hand tightly, giving it a squeeze.
Paschal, his voice filled with genuine regret, offered his apology, his empathy evident. "I'm sorry. Once more, please bear with me." He tried again; this time the joint yielded, popping back into its place.
The physician wasted no time in immobilizing Laurent's arm, securing it with precision to prevent further damage.
"I apologize for the pain," Paschal offered. "Your shoulder is back in place now. Take a moment to catch your breath."
A subtle gesture from Paschal beckoned Jord and Lazar forward. They positioned themselves strategically around the wagon, their muscles straining as they prepared to lift it. They hoisted the wooden structure, creating enough space for Damen to carefully pull Laurent out from underneath.
Paschal swiftly cleaned the wound with alcohol, ensuring its sterility before skillfully wrapping it in a fresh bandage. His voice held both caution and concern as he addressed Laurent. "Your Majesty, your leg requires stitches, but I am not comfortable performing the procedure out here. We must return to the palace to reduce the risk of infection."
Laurent's brows furrowed, his frustration evident, but he recognized the logic in Paschal's words. "Very well." He let out a heavy sigh. Laurent sounded bored.
"Do your best to keep your leg as still as possible during the journey. I know it won't be easy, but it's crucial for your recovery."
Damen wasn't going to give Laurent the chance to get up by himself and cause himself unnecessary pain; he lifted his husband into his arms, cradling him securely against his chest. Jord and Lazar moved at once, assisting Laurent in mounting Damen's horse
Damen's arm encircled Laurent's waist, holding him steady and providing support. Sensing Laurent's resistance, Damen offered words of reassurance, his voice gentle yet firm. "Lean against me," he urged, acutely aware of Laurent's aversion to being helped or controlled. "We're not far now."
Damen regretted that they couldn't unload the second wagon to provide greater comfort for Laurent. Or, spare Laurent from what Laurent thought was embarrassment. Time was of the essence, and the limitations of their circumstances necessitated making do with the available means.
~
Laurent slowly opened his eyes, his vision blurred at first, before the world gradually came into focus. The familiar surroundings of his late father's chambers greeted him. He still didn't think of them as his own.
"How are you feeling?" Paschal's gentle voice broke through the haze of Laurent's thoughts, drawing his attention back to the present moment.
Laurent shifted slightly, feeling the twinge of pain in his arm and leg. He mustered a small smile, despite the discomfort. "I've felt better," he replied, his voice soft and hoarse from the ordeal.
Laurent's gaze shifted to Damen, who lay asleep beside him. A small smile tugged at the corner of his lips as he watched the rise and fall of Damen's chest with each steady breath.
"Damen? Is he...?" Laurent's voice trailed off, his concern evident in his eyes. He reached out with his left hand.
"He's exhausted," Paschal replied, his tone filled with understanding. "He hasn't left your side since we brought you here."
Like Laurent hadn't left Damen's, Paschal's words implied.
Laurent's fingers hovered over Damen's face for a moment longer before he withdrew his hand. He turned his attention back to Paschal.
"How long have I been asleep?"
Paschal's eyes softened as he reached out to adjust the pillows supporting Laurent's leg. "It's been half a day since you arrived at the palace," he answered.
"I want to recover as quickly as possible," Laurent stated, his voice resolute. "There is much to be done, and I won't let my injuries hinder me. Do whatever it takes to expedite my healing."
"I could let you out of bed right this moment," Paschal said, "if you wish to lose your leg."
Laurent grimaced. Paschal knew him too well. He turned his head when he heard rustling of the sheets beside him. The relief in his husband's dark eyes was as clear as day.
Damen, still groggy from his slumber, reached out and took Laurent's free hand, their fingers intertwining naturally.
"Finally," Laurent said. "I've been waiting for you to wake up for nearly half a day."
"You're feeling better," Damen said.
"I'm quite alright."
Paschal cleared his throat, clearly disagreeing with Laurent's words. "His Majesty's assessment is optimistic at best. It will take time to fully recover."
"I'm managing. My assessment is that I am in need of a new physician, preferably one that fears me."
Paschal ignored his words. "Managing, yes." He raised an eyebrow. "Would you be interested in my assessment?"
Laurent gave them a wry smile as he glanced at Paschal. "Oh? Do enlighten me with your assessment, Paschal," he replied, his tone laced with playful sarcasm. "I'm sure it will be considerably less flattering and nothing short of delightful."
Paschal's lips twitched with a hint of a smile. His smile was short-lived as Paschal braced himself to deliver the news.
"Your shoulder will always remain vulnerable to dislocation. The ligaments and tendons have been weakened, and with each subsequent dislocation, the risk of further damage increases," Paschal began. "You will need to exercise caution in all physical activities, especially those that put strain on your shoulder. We can work on strengthening the muscles around the joint, but you must be mindful of your limits. Pushing yourself too far could result in further injury."
"Delightful indeed. My leg?" Laurent asked.
"The wound has been stitched and is healing well. However, we can't ignore the risk of infection, especially given the conditions under which the injury was sustained. We will be keeping a close eye on it."
Laurent much preferred Damen's eyes on him.
"My assessment also includes a word of advice: the energy you're spending on trying to hide your pain is better spent healing and asking for our help. I have tended to your wounds long enough to recognize the signs and read between the lines. There are no enemies here. It's foolish to waste that kind of energy on us," Paschal said.
At least Paschal seemed to be enjoying himself, Laurent mused. "It's foolish, Your Majesty," he said. He couldn't care less if Paschal forgot his title in private, he just wanted to have the last word.
"You should save some energy for when you're healed, my love," Damen teased, his grip on Laurent's hand tightening ever so slightly.
Laurent refrained from asking Paschal when they could fuck. It took more energy than hiding his pain from them.
"I will rest," Laurent compromised. "But only for a little while."
Pleased, Paschal stepped aside to fetch water; he nodded appreciatively when Damen took the cup of water from him. Damen carefully brought the cup to Laurent's lips, supporting his head with his other hand. Laurent took small sips, the cool water soothing his parched throat.
"Do you think you could eat, Your Majesty?" Paschal asked.
"I think I could manage something," Laurent admitted. His stomach felt empty.
"I'll have the kitchen prepare something light."
"Thank you, Paschal." Laurent knew that Paschal considered it his duty, but the truth was that Paschal had always been there for him, looking out for him in his own way. Laurent wasn't the sentimental type, nor did he bestow much praise. He liked thinking that when he did, they knew he meant it.
Laurent glanced at Damen, their fingers still entwined. "Take some rest, Paschal. I am in good hands."
"I will remain close, in case my services are required." Paschal bowed his head respectfully before leaving Damen and Laurent to their own devices.
"I wish we could fuck," Laurent noted matter-of-factly.
Damen's hand slipped under the blanket, his fingers brushing Laurent's hip. He feigned innocence, his brute.
"I had some time to think while you were unconscious. You knew the wheel would give, you told me to stay back," Damen said.
Laurent's breath hitched as Damen's index finger traced an invisible path on his hip bone, sending shivers down his spine. "I…I thought it would, yes."
"You had time to move away, but you didn't. Did you find any signs of sabotage?"
Damen's touch grew bolder as his hand roamed further, his palm resting on Laurent's left thigh, his fingers sliding down with deliberate intent.
"I did not," Laurent said. He reached for Damen's hand, but Damen gently intercepted his movements, taking Laurent's wrist with his other hand.
"Let me tend to your needs, let me show you how much I want you."
Damen's thumb began to circle teasingly, feather-light. Laurent couldn't help but gasp, his control slipping as the sensations intensified.
Without a word, Damen moved his head under the blanket, his lips and tongue continuing where his fingers had left off. Laurent's body arched involuntarily, his hand finding its way into Damen's curls.
Laurent surrendered himself completely. He wasn't hurt anymore. The only thing he would need to recover from was his Akielon. His Akielon.
Damen picked up the pace; Laurent couldn't speak or think. He came, the world fading, his body trembling. He nearly blacked out from the intensity.
When he opened his eyes, he found Damen nestled by his side, his head resting on Laurent's pillow. A soft smile tugged at the corners of Laurent's lips as he gazed at the man who had become his everything.
"Damen," he whispered. Laurent reached out, his fingers gently brushing against Damen's cheek, tracing the contours of his face as if committing every detail to memory.
"Laurent." Damen's hand instinctively sought Laurent's, entwining their fingers once more.
The soft sound of a knock echoed through the chamber, pulling Damen's attention away from Laurent. He rose from the bed.
Damen opened the door to find one of the kitchen staff standing there, a tray of light food in their hands. He accepted the tray and brought it to the table near the bed. It contained bread, soup and a vial.
"Let me help you sit up," he said softly. Damen slid his arms around Laurent, supporting his back as he adjusted the pillows behind him.
Laurent relied on his left hand for support. His gaze met Damen's, gratitude in his eyes.
"Soup and some bread. And there's something for the pain," Damen explained.
Laurent nodded slightly. He sighed. "I may need your help for a little while."
"You have it."
~
Laurent's eyes fluttered open. His breath hitched, the remnants of the nightmare lingering in his mind. He found Damen by his side, a damp cloth in his hand, gently wiping away the perspiration from Laurent's forehead. The cool touch brought some relief.
"Nightmare?" Damen's voice was soft.
Laurent nodded, his throat tight with unspoken emotions. "I... Uncle," he admitted, the single word carrying the weight of years of pain and trauma. There was no need for further explanation between them. Damen understood the depth of the darkness that haunted Laurent's dreams.
Damen's expression grew somber, but he didn't comment. He didn't have to.
Laurent's plea escaped in a whisper, almost desperate. "Don't send for Paschal," he requested, his voice betraying the vulnerability he despised.
"I won't," Damen promised. "I was going to, I thought you had a fever."
"My leg doesn't feel any different."
Damen seemed to accept that answer. "Can I get you anything?"
"My husband. I think I'd like for him to hold me."
Damen enveloped Laurent in his arms, drawing him close. He navigated around the constraints of the sling on Laurent's right arm and the limited mobility of his right leg, ensuring every touch was gentle.
Laurent still marveled at Damen's gentleness. Damen made him believe that there would be a day where these tender moments outnumbered the shadows that came with his nightmares.
"Rest, Laurent. I'm not going anywhere."
Laurent closed his eyes, surrendering to the exhaustion.
~
"The council?" Laurent asked the next day.
Damen knew Laurent was becoming bored, utterly bored. Likely, he was also becoming afraid of the silence and the thought of facing his demons on his own while recovering. Instinctively. Laurent had come a long way; there were some things that needed more time. Damen wasn't going anywhere. It was one of the many things Laurent knew but didn't think he deserved.
"They will bring any urgent matters to us. Everything else can wait until you've rested more."
"The legislation," Laurent said.
"The legislation can wait too. It's been waiting for two years. It can wait another week." Damen continued before Laurent could protest. "All the hard work we've done has paid off. We can afford time. Yes, there's always work to be done, but we're safe. Our people are safe. No one has tried to murder us in the last couple of years."
"Yet."
"I promise. I'll take care of it."
"I know you will," Laurent said.
"Your people have come to trust me."
"Our people. I believe most of them found it easier to trust you than to trust me."
The Regent had only caused doubt and pain. The exact extent, Damen didn't know. And he would never force details out of Laurent. When he did wonder how much pain, the answer was fairly easy: too much.
"They know better now," Damen said.
Laurent's reputation was a complicated one. He'd gone from being seen as a frigid bitch, to the prince that fucked his brother's killer, and eventually to the king that needed to be pitied instead. Somehow, those reputations had blended. Laurent hated the pity the most. When word had gotten out of The Regent's inclinations and Laurent's childhood, their people had been confused, angry, and they had stared with pity. It shouldn't have gotten out, but horrible news tended to travel great distances.
Damen remembered when the council had gathered to address the news and the following gossip.
Laurent, ever sharp-tongued and unyielding, had silenced the room with a single sentence, his words dripping with equal parts defiance and disdain: "If you have any questions regarding my uncle's cock and its habits, now is the time for them."
The council had been momentarily stunned into silence, their questions and prying tongues momentarily stifled.
Unfortunately, the silence hadn't lasted.
"Your Highness, I do not believe the answers to those questions are ours to have. However, if left unchecked, the current gossip will only grow and evolve."
"The gossip may not reflect badly on your reputation, Your Highness."
"How does His Majesty wish to proceed?"
Laurent had sucked in a deep breath, one that sounded more like a venomous hiss. "The council would like for me to issue a statement?" Laurent had said.
"It would be wise to address the populace."
"Yes, I suppose I should refrain from allowing them to think I had three cocks up my ass instead of just the one."
Damen was pulled back to the present by a soft moan from the figure next to him. Laurent was trying to adjust his position but struggling with the limited mobility on his right side.
"Easy, my love," Damen said.
Damen gently reached out to support Laurent, his hands guiding him into a more comfortable position.
Laurent sighed in frustration. "I need my sword arm," he said. Laurent clenched his fist, then slowly stretched his fingers, testing the limits of his mobility. The lines of pain etched across Laurent's face were not lost on Damen. It took everything not to reach out, to intervene and keep Laurent from further pain.
"Paschal said strengthening your muscles should help."
"Should, yes. We both know another dislocation may not be avoidable if I end up in a scuffle."
Damen pressed his lips to Laurent's left collarbone. "If that's the case, I will have to replace you in any future scuffles."
Laurent knew Damen wouldn't dream of replacing him in battle. He was quite vocal about that, he liked having Laurent near him; he liked having someone beside him he could trust.
Laurent chuckled when Damen continued his gentle exploration, his lips roaming Laurent's throat and neck. His left hand instinctively reached for Damen's neck, his fingers curling around the warm skin.
"My gentle warrior king," Laurent whispered.
~
Laurent was determined to push himself, defying his body's limits as he made his way across the expanse of his chamber with the aid of a wooden crutch. Damen stood close by, hovering.
"Easy, Your Majesty," Paschal cautioned. "Mind your stitches." The physician kept more of a distance, likely comfortable relying on Damen's reflexes should Laurent stumble.
Laurent responded with a hint of sarcasm, his words strained with the effort of walking. "Yes, your fine stitchwork," he muttered.
He managed three more steps before his knee gave way. In an instant, Damen's strong arms encircled him, providing the support he needed. Paschal swiftly took the crutch from Laurent's grasp, understanding that his patient required a more secure form of assistance.
"I've got you," Damen said.
Laurent leaned on Damen, his weight partially transferred to his lover's sturdy frame. "I was just...going to inspect the floor for sabotage."
The joke fell flat. Damen's grip on his waist tightened. Laurent reluctantly allowed himself to be guided back towards the bed.
Paschal went ahead and moved the sheets aside, creating a space for Laurent to settle comfortably. He helped ease Laurent's injured leg onto the pile of pillows, carefully adjusting them to provide optimal support.
"I should check your stitches," Paschal said.
"No need. I can tell they're still intact."
Much to Laurent's surprise, and relief, Paschal relented. "Very well. You will tell me if you experience any unusual pain or discomfort?" he asked. Paschal's questions sounded like instructions.
"I will." Laurent gave Paschal a grateful nod.
Paschal could be overly stubborn when he was concerned, always insistent on thorough examinations and meticulous care. Not today, it seemed. Today he was going easy on Laurent.
It reminded Laurent of when he was younger, of the countless times Paschal had taken charge and convinced him to get his bruises examined, in secret, even when he resisted. He recalled the pain he had endured during and after his uncle's visits, the times he could barely walk.
Every now and then he caught a glimpse of that past in Paschal's eyes, in his kindness. Paschal regretted, but never pitied. Paschal asked for forgiveness for crimes he never committed.
'I trust it is safe for me to leave you alone for a little while?"
Laurent mock-scoffed. "We're not children."
Paschal simply raised an eyebrow and left.
Laurent turned his attention to Damen. "You're aware you're not the one on forced bed rest?"
"Are you complaining?"
"The company is tolerable." Laurent gave his husband the sweetest smile. "But I can't imagine watching me sleep is much fun."
"And watching me sleep was?"
"Highly entertaining," Laurent commented. "Especially when you started mumbling in your sleep."
Damen groaned.
"I'm trying to say that you don't have to keep me company all day long."
"I know. I want to."
Laurent eyed Damen suspiciously. "Did you just refrain from calling me an idiot?"
Damen grinned. "How is it refraining when it was clearly implied?"
"Oh, I see how it is. You've now mastered the art of subtle insults."
"I learned from the best, dearest."
"Flattery will get you nowhere," Laurent replied. "But I suppose I can tolerate your company for a little while longer."
Damen reached out to brush a stray lock of hair behind Laurent's ear.
Laurent was quite convinced he could tolerate Damen's company all day, every day, always.