Chapter Text
Alec slept fitfully that night. When it seemed like the Edomite prince would not be returning, Alec had barricaded the door with a heavy chest before stealing a blanket off the bed to place on the hearthstones in front of the dying fire, and had lain there with his full armour on, trying to get some much-needed rest. He knew that barricading the door would do little to stop anyone from coming in, not when they could just move the chest out of the way by magic, but at least it would provide him some warning.
He woke up before sunrise, feeling heartsick and ill-rested, the pain in his left wrist a stark reminder of everything that had happened the night before. Wincing, he forced himself to get up and check that the door was still firmly barricaded, made use of the privy room, then went through his morning routine of stretches and exercises until he could no longer resist the siren call of the morning sun turning everything as far as the eye could see to gold.
Sunlight was a luxury in Idris. The kingdom had been decimated by the constant magical attacks from Edom, and few of their people would have survived at all if Alec's great-grandfather hadn't discovered the labyrinthine of caves in the mountain ranges of Idris. Their people had been forced to move into the caves, where they had by pure chance stumbled upon the veins of adamas in the rock and the way that it warded against the magical attacks from Edom - and so the endless winding miles of dark caves had become home.
It wasn't as wretched an existence as it sounded. There were lakes and flowing rivers of ice-cold water, so clear that one could see all the way through to the bottom, and these provided the people of Idris with their main source of food in the way of fish and other odd shelled creatures that did not look appetising but didn't taste half-bad when lightly cooked. There were other creatures that lurked in the dark as well, ranging from small vicious rodents to huge fell beasts that hadn't been seen since the time of Angels, but these feared fire and the burning touch of adamas, and soon learnt to leave the underground city of Idris alone, although there were always those foolish enough to wander into the dark alone, never to be seen again. There were edible moss and fungi in the caves, and glow worms that gave light, and while the stone walls and floors meant the caves were never really warm, one eventually got used to the slight chill.
Soldiers guarded the entrances to the underground city and patrolled the surface, where the ruins of the city that once was still stood. The poor lived closest to the surface, where falling rock and cave-ins were common occurrences, while the richer echelons of Idris society lived deep within the mountains, where the subterranean rivers had carved out gigantic caverns and halls fit for kings.
Alec had lived his whole life underground, until he turned 18 and joined the men that would one day be under his command above the ground - and then life in the safety of the caves became unbearable. Riding out against the enemy with Jace at his right hand and his arrows whistling through the air, he could forget everything but the balance of the bow and the tension of the string, forget the looming spectre of his father's growing displeasure at his refusal to take a wife, and the burden of the secret he had only shared with Izzy and Jace. Every time his father called him back into the underground city after a too-brief sojourn above the ground, Alec had felt half-blind, suffocated, doomed to never see the sun again. He had started finding excuses to go out with Jace - additional patrol, picking flowers and herbs for his mother and Izzy to brighten their rooms, and then even more plants for Izzy when she started finding ways to turn them into healing salves and deadly poisons.
Standing here at the window of one of the castle's high towers, where he could see the sun rising over the lush forests and distant hills, he wondered if this might not be a greater torment - to be able to see the sun, but never feel it on his face again, trapped within the stone of Edom's castle walls until his fate found him.
By midmorning, Alec's worry for his guardsman Underhill finally drove him to leave the room and venture out in a cautious exploration of the castle. Underhill had been forcibly removed from his side the night before, with the leering Edomite guards making crude jokes about dogs not being welcome on their master's wedding night. Alec had expected to have to fight his way through the castle, but most of the people he met along the way, servants and guards alike, merely gave him a wide berth, although whispered conversations followed in his wake.
Alec had to admit that he had been surprised to notice that some of the guards were women, which would have been unthinkable in Idris. The womenfolk in Idris were regarded as the weaker sex, although Alec thought that nobody who had been on the other end of his mother or Izzy's wrath would ever think that again. As such, they were usually given duties like cooking, sewing, gathering food, and minding the children - all necessary and important, but not exalted the way that a warrior's achievements on the battlefield were. Equally unthinkable were the able-bodied male servants that Alec saw carrying soiled clothes away for washing, or bearing trays of food.
As he wandered the castle hallways, Alec soon became aware that he had gained a shadow. She was obviously one of the guards, but there was a small black cat embroidered on her livery, over her heart. He slowed down to let her pass, but she kept her distance, and in fact didn't seem to care that he had noticed her.
Quickening his pace, Alec kept an eye on her as he made his way outdoors, and still nobody made any move to stop him. He wondered if that was Asmodeus' plan - to tempt him to run, so that he would be branded a coward, his family shamed, and Edom could break the treaty and destroy what was left of Idris. He followed his gut and his nose to several sturdy wooden stables and kennels, where the horses, hounds, and hunting falcons were kept. Sure enough, he found Underhill in one of the kennels, bloodied and bruised, half-strangled by a leash someone had put around his neck - a dog, they had called him, so they had beaten him like a dog that belonged to a man they weren't allowed to take their frustrations out on.
Alec cast about for something sharp to cut Underhill free, but after a brief fruitless search, was forced to struggle with the knots in the leather, which were slippery with blood. He had only just managed to untie the leash when he became aware of several men looming behind him, and turned to confront the small group of sneering guardsmen blocking his way. These men, he noticed, had a black serpent on their livery.
"Move out of my way," Alec said evenly.
"You can't bring him in. Dogs stay in the doghouse," one of them drawled, and the rest laughed.
They had probably assumed that he was no threat - one unarmed man, burdened by a fallen comrade, when all of them had magic at their fingertips. Alec thought that perhaps the only thing that had held them back from beating him bloody as well the night before was the possibility of incurring the wrath of their prince - who had left his room in a rage on their wedding night. If Edom thrived on gossip as much as Idris did, Alec had no doubt that everybody in the castle already knew. But Alec took in the complacent slouch of their postures, the softness in their bellies and arms, and knew that he could move fast enough to knock half of them down before they even thought to use their magic to defend themselves or retaliate.
Alec was already bracing himself to lunge at the nearest guard when someone cleared her throat very pointedly from behind the group of hostile guardsmen. The guardswoman who had been shadowing Alec raised an eyebrow at them, a hint of bright green flashing in her eyes, and they cowered from her and shuffled away from Alec as all the hounds in the kennels began to howl and snarl threateningly at the men. Alec eyed her warily, then pulled one of Underhill's arms over his shoulders and hefted the deadweight of his unconscious liegeman, moving towards the castle; she did not seem inclined to help, but didn't move to stop him either. It was a long way back up to the prince's room, and for a moment Alec hesitated, wondering if there was any point returning there.
Then from behind him, he heard the guardswoman say, "Prince Magnus will hear of this. And keep your hands off his consort's servant as well."
Satisfied that it would still be a safe space for now, at least for him to attempt to tend to Underhill's wounds, Alec began the arduous trek upwards to the prince's room in the tower.
Healing had never been Alec's domain, and after he managed to carry Underhill all the way up to the prince's chambers, he came to the sickening realisation that he might have merely brought his liegeman to a quiet place to die. Underhill's eyes had swollen shut, his lips were split, and they had broken one of his legs and all his fingers. But from the strange whistling sound in his chest when he breathed and the blood in his mouth, Alec was sure something inside his body was broken as well.
Rummaging through the chests of clothes, Alec found a shirt flimsy enough to tear up with his teeth and bare hands to make bandages for the open wounds lest they began to fester, but there was little else he could do for his liegeman. Alec's thoughts turned to the wooden pin that had been fastened on his cloak, which he had later transferred to a hidden pocket in his belt where he had previously kept his adamas wand. His sister had carved it specially for him as a wedding present; it was hollow, and the top could be pried open to reveal a small measure of powder inside.
Painless, traceless, something for if things ever became unbearable, Izzy had whispered to him while she fixed the pin to his cloak, trying to hold back her tears. Ingesting it would be like falling into a deep, dreamless sleep he would never have to wake up from, and it would just seem like his heart had given out, as it was known to happen. Alec didn't think it was a path that he would have ever chosen - not for his own sake, at least, only if Edom ever tried to use him against the interests of Idris - and in fact he had considered slipping it in Asmodeus' food or drink. But he knew how much it had cost his sister to concoct this particular poison with him in mind, how much love she had put into it. As much as it felt like he was being ungrateful, he knew she would understand if he used her gift to put an end to his faithful liegeman's suffering instead.
Alec already had the pin in his hand when there was a knock on the door, and Alec realised with alarm that he had neglected to bar the door when it swung open easily. He tensed; a woman entered the room, not the guardswoman from before, but perhaps some sort of noblewoman, judging from her fine clothing.
"I am the court physician, Catarina," she introduced herself.
She had a soothing manner and warm smile, and Alec found the tension draining out of him. He let her approach without challenge, feeling oddly calm. She knew what she was doing, and he had nothing to worry about. She was someone he could trust... but she had given him no reason to trust her, so why did he?
Magic.
As his fear returned, he found that he could feel the grip of her magic on his mind, holding him down much the same way that one might restrain a cat by the scruff of its neck.
"Don't fight me. I mean you no harm," she said patiently; it just made Alec push back harder, but the force of her will was like an iron fist in a velvet glove.
There was nothing he could do to stop her as she moved to examine Underhill, the pin with the poison clutched uselessly in his hand. Her lips pursed unhappily as her hands passed over Underhill's prone form, and Underhill stirred, groaning in pain.
"They cracked his ribs, and it pierced his lungs - I can heal him, but he will need rest to truly recover," she told Alec.
Waves of blue mist flowed out from her hands and settled over Underhill, fixing broken bones and healing cuts and bruises right before Alec's eyes, and gradually even Alec could tell that Underhill's breathing sounded normal again. When she was done, she released her hold on Alec as well, then quickly stepped out of his reach even though Alec hadn't moved - as if he was a feral beast that might bite the hand that fed it.
"Thank you, Lady Catarina," he told her sincerely, and that seemed to please her.
"Just call me Catarina," she said warmly, although her smile faltered a little when she saw the rune branded on his wrist. "I know magic does not work on wounds inflicted by adamas, but is there anything I can do for that?"
Alec shook his head mutely; Izzy had concocted a cooling salve which countered the pain a little, but Alec did not know the ingredients.
Just then, someone else came in through the door - the guardswoman from earlier, bearing a tray heavily laden with food and drink. Like the dinner from the night before, most of the food looked foreign to Alec, but just the smell of it was making Alec's mouth water and stomach growl in protest. How long had it been since he had last eaten properly? A day? Two? Certainly not since the farewell feast at Idris, where Alec had forced himself to eat so much he had felt sick later, only because his mother had made all his favourite things and he had wanted to see her smile at least one last time before he left.
"This is Maia - she is the head of Magnus' personal guard, and it was she who came to find me when she noticed that your servant was injured," Catarina explained.
Maia tapped the image of the black cat on her chest. "All of us who wear Prince Magnus' insignia will make sure that you come to no harm in the castle, but perhaps it would be safer if you stayed in the prince's chambers. I will see that someone trustworthy brings food up for you."
Alec didn't answer; he could already feel the stone walls closing in on him.
"I have other duties to see to, but I will be back to check on your servant tomorrow," Catarina told him.
"And I must make my report to my prince," Maia agreed, already heading for the door.
Alec wondered if Maia had been sent to keep an eye out for him, or if it had just been coincidence that she had noticed him wandering around the castle. Catarina must have seen something in his expression, or perhaps part of her magic was the ability to read minds.
"Magnus' anger is directed at his father, not you," she told him gently. "It may not seem like it, but Magnus has his reasons for the things he does. When he has decided on what to do with you, he will return." On that slightly ominous note, the two women took their leave.
Underhill woke up just after sunset when Maia came by with more food, this time borne by a man dressed in servant's garb, whom she introduced as her cousin Bat. Alec helped Underhill sit up to drink some broth to build his strength, but his liegeman was so discomfited by having his prince play nursemaid to him that when night fell, Alec retreated into the bedchamber to save them both the awkwardness.
Looking around at the carved chests and wardrobes disgorging garments everywhere, a dressing table littered with jewellery and unidentifiable fragrant potions, and the immense bed fat with down pillows, Alec was tempted to go back out to the main chamber, for it was not uncommon for men-at-arms to sleep around the same fire while on the battlefield, despite the difference in their stations. He felt like an intruder in someone else's private space, even if this was a space he was expected to share with his husband.
And wasn't that a strange thought - that after a whole life of being resigned to the eventuality that he would be forced to marry and attempt to bed a woman so that there would be an heir for Idris, he was now wedded to a man, all expectations lifted off his shoulders. Even if his husband was out gallivanting with the many bedfellows he had boasted of, being left alone was preferable than the alternative, and Alec convinced himself that his current circumstances were the best he could ever have hoped for.
He rested a little better that night, even though he still refused to sleep in the bed, and by the next morning Underhill was well enough to feed himself. Catarina came by as promised and was delighted with his progress, and by the next day declared her patient mostly recovered.
After that, Underhill seemed doubly determined to repay Alec for his care when he had been ill. Unfortunately, while Underhill was a brave soldier and excellent swordsman, he was no servant and had little idea of how to go about being one, which made Alec thankful that he had always been self-sufficient. Still, Underhill was eager to learn the ropes from Bat, who seemed friendly enough and didn't seem to mind that they had once been the enemy, even going so far as to procure spare servant's clothes to replace their bloodied garments.
Alec found his days falling into a dreary pattern. Underhill would rise before the sun was up to collect a breakfast tray from the kitchens, decorated with a flower - probably something Bat had taught Underhill was custom in Edom. It did not escape Alec's notice that they were never provided any utensils sharper than a wooden spoon. The two would spar in hand-to-hand combat as best as they could in a space they had cleared in the room, then Underhill would draw water for Alec to wash, and collect their midday meal - and another flower. Alec had instructed Underhill to report on anything he managed to overhear, but Underhill told him conversations amongst the servants tended to die abruptly when he was around. He also reported that the other guardsmen and servants mostly left him alone, only daring to plague him with small cruelties such as making him trip and drop the things he was carrying. Every time Alec tried to venture out of the room, Maia would eventually appear to herd him back into the prince's chambers, so Alec was effectively a prisoner, with even less freedom than his liegeman. Alec tried to find relief from his restlessness with exercise and by reading the various scrolls in the room, most of them beautifully illustrated treatises on the plants and animals native to Edom. At sunset there was another flower and another meal, for all the people of Edom seemed to do was eat. Then Alec would retire to the bedchamber to lie awake on the cold stone floor, hoping that his family was safe and did not still grieve for him, and wondering why he had been allowed this relative peace.
Five days after his wedding, Alec was admiring the delicate paintings in a scroll on the songbirds of Edom, where it almost seemed like every feather had been individually painted and the birds might fly right off the page, when the door flew open. Alec looked up, startled, as his husband swept into the room, accompanied by a small entourage.
The only person he recognised other than the prince was Maia. There was an older nobleman wearing emerald-green robes, a soldier of some high rank, and a handful of people carrying various swathes of cloth.
The prince took in Alec's days-old servant's garments, the bandage over the rune on his wrist, and the altered state of his rooms with a frown, eyes lingering on the blanket in front of the fire where Underhill slept and the flowers Underhill had collected in a vase. Then he noticed what Alec had been studying, and something in the sudden blankness of his expression made Alec feel that he might have blundered into something private. Alec rolled up the scroll quickly and carefully and put it back where he had found it, and by the time he turned back, the brilliant, hard smile was back in place on the prince's face.
"My consort is in need of new clothes. His servant as well," the prince declared imperiously, and the small group of tailors descended on Alec and Underhill.
Alec still wore his armour out of habit, even though he spent all day in the room, and being forced to remove it so that the tailors could work made him feel naked. They began turning him around and rearranging his limbs as if he were a ragdoll, and measuring everything from the width of his shoulders to the distance between his crotch and his ankles with no regard for his dignity. When that was done, bolt after bolt of material was held up against him - silk in jewelled tones, cloth embroidered with gold and silver thread - and his husband made all the decisions about what he was to wear, conversing with the tailors about skin tone and the cut of his clothes as if Alec wasn't standing right there.
"How soon will they be ready?" the prince asked the tailors.
"We should have them all ready for you by tomorrow morning, Your Highness. Tonight, if we can."
"Perfect timing! You will be paid well for your trouble, of course," he said, beaming, and dismissed them.
When he was sure they were gone, he cast some sort of spell on the door and gracefully flung himself on one of the many cushioned chairs Alec and Underhill had moved to the side to clear a space for sparring. Alec had to admit that the prince was a very beautiful man, and it was no wonder that he had plenty of admirers, probably all more sophisticated and attractive than Alec. When he had flashed Alec that small smile from the royal dais on the night of the wedding, and Asmodeus had changed his mind about who Alec was to marry, for a fleeting moment Alec had thought, maybe... but there was no point thinking about that now. The artifice in the prince's current poise and expression just left Alec cold.
Alec was itching to put his armour back on, but he restrained himself. "Why do I need new clothes tomorrow?"
"Because my father is holding a council with his generals before noon tomorrow to discuss strategy in Edom's continuing war against Idris, and you will be attending it with me," the prince replied cheerfully.
Alec stared at him. Was Edom was so secure in their victory that they would flaunt their plans in front of him, and force him to listen to the ways they planned to massacre his family and his people?
"Magnus, when I told you about the council, it was not so you could invite him to it," said the dour-faced soldier, who was apparently one of Edom's generals despite his youth.
"I want to stop my father as much as you do, Raphael," the prince reminded him. "If I distract my father from his war council with family politics, it will give us more time to plot."
The nobleman in the green robe sighed and said, "You do realise that this is only going to anger your father?"
"Nonsense. My father forced me into this arrangement hoping that it would make me more interested in matters of the state, and now he shall get his wish - he should be delighted," the prince said with vicious glee.
"Why would he even allow me to attend such a council?" Alec asked.
"Alexander, you are my consort - you're family now," the prince replied sweetly, and it made Alec’s hackles rise to have him assume familiarity with him enough to use his name. "It is only right that I have you by my side."
"And you expect him to believe that we are even on speaking terms when you have paid no attention to me since you left on our wedding night?" Alec scoffed.
The prince looked affronted. "Paid no attention to you? Where do you think these flowers came from?" he demanded, gesturing at the flowers in the vase.
"I - they were from you?" Alec asked, bewildered.
"I instructed the servants to put them on the trays that were being sent to you. You see, I have spent the last few days wooing you with simple gifts as an apology for my inexcusable behaviour, while giving you space by staying with Edom's Scrollmaster and my best friend, Ragnor," he said, indicating the nobleman, who had a long-suffering expression on his face. "Or at least, that is the story I spread around so that everybody would leave us alone."
Alec was silent as he digested this information. He was eager to be involved in these plans to stop Asmodeus, but... "You want us to pretend to be in love?" Alec asked doubtfully.
"Not in love, no. My father is no fool. But we could pretend to trust and respect each other," the prince said sardonically.
"I thought you said that your father was no fool," Alec said flatly, and the prince let out a sharp bark of mirthless laughter.
"Perhaps in Idris you are used to settling all your problems with your fists and not your brains," he began, which made Alec bristle, "but we cannot challenge my father head-on. If it is beyond your abilities to play this role and play it to the hilt, it would be better that you spoke up now."
"Why do you care about stopping the war? Edom would emerge victorious anyway," Alec said bitterly.
"Oh, Alexander. Surely you're not that naive," the prince said pityingly. "The war has never ended, and my father never had the intention of letting any of your people survive. He will not stop until Idris is a scorched hole in the ground."
Cold fear settled in Alec's gut. He had been wary of Asmodeus' offer of peace, but to have his true intentions stated so plainly by his own son had made Alec's nebulous suspicions real - and here he was, so far from his family and kingdom, with no way to warn them of Asmodeus' treachery. "But you would let us live?" Alec asked, gritting his teeth.
"Idris has already admitted defeat, the spirit of its people broken. I see no point in wasting more lives, both of your people and mine, in this senseless endeavour. How many more years of suffering will this take before it truly ends? And isn't it a king's duty to see that his people live well, instead of pursuing a victory out of spite?" the prince replied, then as if embarrassed to admit that he had given this some thought, quickly added, "Of course, I have no intention of ever being king. But I have quite enjoyed the festivities and parties since the peace treaty was signed, and would much rather that they continue. War is such a tedious business, in comparison."
Ragnor turned his eyes to the heavens at that, muttering a prayer for patience.
Alec had a feeling that the prince's rebellion was going to have unpleasant consequences for them all, but he couldn't bear to sit by and wait, kept in the dark. He nodded curtly. "I will be ready for the council in the morning."
"I look forward to the pleasure of your charming company," the prince said drily, and swept out of the room as suddenly as he had come.
When they had all left, Alec quickly put his armour back on, pulling the straps tight. His gaze landed on the vase of bright flowers on the table, and he frowned.
"Did you know that they were from him?" he asked Underhill.
"No. Neither Bat nor the other servants said anything," Underhill replied, looking uncomfortable. "I only kept them because Bat said they would brighten up the room. Do you want me to throw them out, my lord?"
"No, leave them. It's all just pretend, anyway," Alec said quietly, and retreated into the refuge of the bedchamber.