Chapter Text
I thought it was just fascination, and then obsession, but…
Is it love when I can’t stop thinking about him? When I spend every minute with him and still yearn for longer days, then longer nights, just for more time together? When he laughs I think I go a little crazy. My head spins. I would do anything to make him smile.
Fuck, that’s love, isn’t it?
I’m in love with the King.
That’s deeply inconvenient.
-- An excerpt from the journal of the royal advisor
--
Melini needed a Queen. A simple problem, which should technically have a simple solution-- “just get married, Laios, anyone will do ”.
After almost a year of looking, Kabru’s eyebrow was in a constant state of twitching, no matter how he tried to control his expression. Every suitor they brought through the castle somehow had something wrong with them. To be fair, it was only Laios’s fault half the time; they’re too quiet, she’s too mean, I didn’t actually feel like he listened to me, you know? (Kabru wanted to show him too quiet, too mean, and not actually listening, so he set Laios up on a blind date with Rin, just for his own amusement. Neither of them forgave him for a week.)
The other half the time, the suitors did actually have something wrong with them. Kabru had staved off two assassination attempts so far. (Laios had looked at him with drowning eyes while Kabru, awash with thrill and adrenaline and some other blazing feeling he couldn’t name, wiped his blade on a cloth napkin and carefully tucked it back into its sheath.
“You killed them,” Laios whispered, ragged and a little bit accusatory.
“I saved you,” Kabru said. “That’s more important.”
And he meant it.)
So, when Kabru said, again, “please, Laios, anyone will do,” he really meant-- only the people who deserve it. Only the people who earn my respect, and my trust, and their place at this court, could even begin to be worthy of your affection. When Kabru said, “they’re just a warm body, Laios. A placeholder for the position. Anyone will do,” he really meant-- nobody could possibly live up to all our expectations. There’s nobody perfect, and I will not settle for less than perfect.
When Kabru said, “Laios, you have to marry someone, literally anyone.”
Laios said, “I don’t want to.”
And Kabru felt a little relief again that Laios wouldn’t listen to him. A small delight, that he was so stalwart he denied even Kabru. And definitely gratitude, that he could maintain the appearance of doing his job, while simultaneously wishing bitter, horrible fates on every suitor that sat at his king’s side at dinner.
The idea that ruined everything came in the form of Laios barging into Kabru’s office.
“I’m tired of these dinners and these dances and the courtly outings,” Laios said, appearing without knocking. Kabru felt his breath shorten at the sound of Laios’s voice, but was careful not to bodily react. He kept writing. He didn’t remember what he had been trying to write-- it didn’t matter, best to keep up appearances of being distant from Laios. Uncaring. (Who was he trying to fool? Himself or Laios? The eyes he presumed followed him everywhere, watching his every move, even when they were both alone in a room? What could be lost by giving up the performance, even for a second? But he knew he couldn’t think like that. It would feel so luxurious, being himself, he wouldn’t know how to stop.)
“I’m sure you are, Your Majesty,” Kabru intoned.
“I don’t want to do them anymore,” Laios declared. He started pacing in front of Kabru’s desk. Kabru still refused to look up, despite the distinct feeling of being in a room with a wolf.
“What do you propose we do instead,” Kabru said. He tried to keep his tone light.
Laios slammed both his hands on the desk and leaned in, forcing Kabru to look up at him with his sheer presence. Laios’s eyes were lit up, like candles, flickering and waxy. Laios was excited, Kabru distantly realized. He was excited at whatever dating prospect he was about to propose.
Fuck, I’m fucked, he thought. Because Laios’s excitement meant he might actually find a match. Kabru found the thought so appalling he couldn’t even directly think it, because it made his whole body feel like it was turning to slime and he was melting into a puddle on the floor, where he would be miserable and mopey, forever.
“A tournament,” Laios said.
“A tournament,” Kabru repeated, trying to weigh the implications of it.
“Anyone can enter--”
“There must be some vetting process, Laios--”
“ Anyone will do ,” Laios said, in a horrible impression of Kabru’s voice. Kabru took the point and stopped arguing.
“And we host a series of competitions until there’s only one person left. Either people will drop out cause they realize I’m not worth all the work of the tournament, or they try really hard, and that way I know they care!”
“All of your problems with suitors so far have been based on personality,” Kabru said, pointing at him with the quill. “Not whether or not they cared.”
“Well, I’ve-- I’ve thought about my friends, and how they’re all so different. And how they all have traits that frustrate me or we don’t really get along all the time, but I still love all of them. And I think it’s because we’ve been through so much together, that I know no matter what, they care about me enough to be my friend. And maybe that matters more than personality, to me.”
Kabru looked away from Laios so he could think, and tossed all of this over in his head. It would be a bit presumptuous, demanding people jump and perform for Laios’s affections. It would give off the impression of a horrible king, that makes games of his people, for his entertainment. But, with the stipulation that anyone could enter… it was as good as declaring he wanted good opportunities for everybody in his kingdom. Anybody had a shot at a throne. He was a fair king, at least.
Okay, he could spin this. Their reputation could withstand this.
It was, however, a logistical nightmare. Organizing competitions (concept, equipment, judges, venues), registration of competitors (housing, travel, background checks-- he was never free of the threat of assassination), establishing rules (getting Laios to decide on literally anything), it would all be an incredible headache.
Not to mention, if anybody could enter, Yaad would have a conniption that not every suitor would be nobility. But the show of ability over the course of the competition would have to outweigh blood-- people loved action, over tradition. If someone could prove through trials that they were worthy of the crown, nobody would complain. It had put Laios in power, and it would put his partner in power, too.
Then there was the matter of what they would do with the winner. Kabru supposed he could kill them, but that would certainly cause a national scandal. Maybe he needed to almost kill them, so they believed they were alive only by his mercy-- he would have power over them for their entire stay at the castle. Maybe that would turn them into his enemy, and he would lose his job. Maybe they would have the ear of the king, and Kabru wouldn’t. Maybe Laios would lean closer to them at meals to whisper jokes and share secret laughs. Maybe they would walk the halls of the palace together on the blue nights when neither of them could sleep.
Kabru’s hands shook with the restraint it took not to snap his quill.
“A tournament,” Kabru said again, voice perfectly controlled. Laios nodded enthusiastically, the smile on his face-- secretive? Sly?
Is he hiding something from me? What am I missing ? Kabru wondered. When he thought over all of it again, there didn’t seem to be a catch. It was a good idea. And it was his job. He, supposedly, wanted very badly for Laios to get married.
Call it off, a voice said in his head. It was an exceedingly selfish voice, and one Kabru thought would be very satisfying to listen to. Run off in the night. Bring him with you. Start a new life as pirates and trick yourself into being brave enough to hold his hand when there’s nobody on the whole ocean to watch you do it.
“That’s a wonderful idea,” Kabru said, with a chipper smile. “I’ll start organizing it right away.”
Fuck .
--
It was, as he predicted, a logistical nightmare. They were under the impression that surely everybody would want to compete to marry Laios, so the early rounds of the tournament had to be able to handle a lot of competitors, and had to eliminate a lot of people, very quickly, while still being fair.
Kabru was haunted by visions of horse races and log tossing and sword swallowing. Maybe he should make it impossible. Compete to see who could carry an oak tree across the continent. Compete to see who could survive Kabru’s sword. Maybe then there would be no winner and he wouldn’t have to worry about it.
“Hmm, Kabru, you seem really stressed…” Falin said, when she found him ruining a training dummy even though he was using a dulled practice sword. He hadn’t realized it’d been beaten to multiple pulps. He hadn’t even been looking. He wiped sweat out of his eyes and tried to get his breathing under control.
“I have no idea what we should do for this tournament,” he admitted. Falin hummed.
“Put Laios in peril and see who’s willing and able to save him,” she suggested. “Like maybe get him eaten by a dragon, or something…”
Kabru barked a laugh. “You’d wish that on him?”
“It taught me who my friends are!” Falin responded, with a smile.
Kabru swiped his sword back and forth, thinking.
“What about letters?” Falin asked.
“What about them?” Kabru said.
“Have everyone send love letters to the castle!” Her feathers fluffed as she started getting excited about the idea. “Laios can choose who he likes.”
“That’s subjective,” Kabru argued. “He’ll be accused of favoritism.”
“It’s all subjective based on his judgements anyway, and if the letters are anonymous then it can’t be favoritism!” she said.
“If the letters are anonymous, how can we find who they belong to?”
“Your spymaster should have tracking magic,” she said. Kabru tilted his head. Falin was right, the spymaster could, in fact, do that.
“How can we possibly convince Laios to do that much reading? And then choose, what, his five favorites? Out of hundreds?”
Falin shrugged. “I think he wants to. Find a partner, that is. You don’t have to motivate him to do this one.”
The thought made Kabru ring hollowly, like a bell. Laios, lonely. Laios, looking for love. Laios, moving on from him (but that was unfair, wasn’t it? Cause they never had anything to begin with. It had always been Kabru’s one sided obsession, which Laios happily didn’t care about). It stung so bad.
“I’ll think about it,” he said. Falin smiled at him-- sly? Secretive? What was going on?-- and left him on the training course.
Kabru’s muscles ached, but he drank some water and attacked the training dummy again. It was already ruined. He might as well get the satisfaction of ruining it completely.
--
The night the official announcement was made, Kabru couldn’t sleep. Letters would be pouring in come morning, and then it would start. Everybody vying for his king’s attention, and everybody would be getting it but him.
And then Laios would marry one of the writers of those letters.
Kabru stared at the ceiling of his bedroom with such a profound ache in his chest that he wondered if he had actually hurt himself without noticing. Maybe while sparring one of the knights--?
Well, if he was hurt, maybe he needed someone to heal him. Kabru, stiff from lack of sleep, sat up and found slippers before he could think about it too hard.
He thought of excuses while he wandered down the halls to the king’s chambers-- he’d gotten whacked in the chest while sparring without armor and it knocked the wind out of him. He’d eaten something bad and had heartburn. He got thrown from his horse and stepped on for good measure.
He wondered if he was even fooling himself, as he stood at Laios’s door.
But his chest ached, and ached, and ached, and he just couldn’t stand it.
He felt extremely small and self indulgent when he knocked.
Laios opened the door, eyes unfocussed and hair mussed up from sleep, and Kabru could hardly believe he was a king. The king. His king.
Seeing Laios normally, in his tailored outfits and his organized appearance, made Kabru feel warm. He was pretty, but Kabru could handle pretty. Seeing Laios even slightly undone-- a way he shouldn’t be seen, a secret, a vulnerability-- made Kabru feel obsessed. Kabru’s eyes caught on Laios’s edges and tracked down every line of him.
“Sorry, did I wake you?” Kabru asked, because he knew he should, but he was too distracted to manage his tone. He heard his own voice sound uncaring, because he truly didn’t care that he had woken Laios, he’d decided back when he put on slippers that he was going to demand the king’s attention and he didn’t feel the slightest remorse. But he shouldn’t show that. He held back a wince. He needed to get himself together.
“Don’t worry about it,” Laios said, half through a yawn. Kabru hadn’t heard Laios’s voice like this before. Soft and barely conscious. The joy of learning something new about Laios curled up in his stomach and settled like a dose of tea at the perfect, slightly scalding temperature. He was truly hungry for everything about this man.
“Did you need something?” Laios asked, because Kabru was just standing there, staring, which he knew was amateurish and he knew was making problems but how could he help himself when Laios looked so disheveled?
“Healing,” Kabru said. The lie felt weak on his tongue.
Laios’s eyes went wide and he stood back from the door, gesturing Kabru in. Kabru walked past Laios and sat down in one of the armchairs by the window, feeling Laios’s gaze skirt all over him. The satisfaction of it almost made Kabru tremble.
“Why didn’t you go to Falin?” Laios asked. He came over to sit in the armchair across from Kabru. Kings got two armchairs in their rooms.
Kabru hadn’t thought of a lie for this. The truth, then?
“I wanted to see you,” Kabru said, shifting his eyes to look out the window so it wouldn’t feel too truthful. The night landscape was beautiful, like it was cut from sapphire and onyx. He pretended he wasn’t watching Laios from the corner of his eye. “And I know you’re less likely to be asleep.”
“I haven’t been sleeping much,” Laios admitted.
“Then I’m sorry I woke you,” Kabru said, and the soft care he heard in his own voice made him feel naked. And here he’d thought he was remorseless-- but he didn’t like the idea that Laios had also been losing sleep. Over the tournament? Over the idea of committing himself to someone for the rest of his life?
Kabru knew from experience it was a frightening choice to make. Fealty shouldn’t be taken lightly. It left you obsessed with men and begging for their attention in the dead of night with fake injuries.
“Where are you hurt? You don’t look hurt,” Laios said. He leaned forward in his chair, only inches closer to Kabru but thrilling Kabru nonetheless. Anything to be a little closer. Just a little closer.
“One of the muscles in my chest,” Kabru said. “It aches all the time.”
The heart was a muscle. He wasn’t lying. It was wonderful, not lying to Laios. Just admitting the truth. What next, his feelings? His desperation for his attention? His plans to whisk him away?
“Did you do something to hurt it? Are you swinging your sword wrong?” Laios asked, with enough worry in his voice to make Kabru lightheaded.
“It must be something like that,” Kabru said.
Laios stood and stepped up to Kabru, hand reaching but stopping right before landing on his sternum. Kabru’s heart rocketed in his chest, and he felt his breathing speed up in turn.
When he looked up at Laios, his eyes were silky gray in the colorless night. Fuck, fuck, fuck . He’s so pretty I might explode.
“May I?” Laios asked.
“Please do,” Kabru responded. “I want you to.”
Then Laios’s hand brushed his chest and he whispered a spell and Kabru felt so much worse, why did he ever pretend this would make him feel better? The floor was out from under him and he was falling and this was already horrible, but then Laios pulled his hand away, and it was infinitely worse.
The moment of elation at Laios’s touch was always going to end, and Kabru was always going to get addicted to it. He was always going to ache for more, with a ferocity that would destroy a thousand training dummies.
“Thank you,” he made himself say, even as he cursed himself as harshly as he could. Kabru, you fucking dumbass.
Laios smiled at him in a funny way and his eyes darted to the side. Kabru wanted to take his chin in his hand and lean in and make those eyes stay. He cursed at himself more. No impulses.
“You said you wanted to see me,” Laios said, all too pleased. Kabru was running out of ways to curse himself. Why had he settled on the truth? Lies protected him. This was unsafe.
“Maybe I did,” Kabru said.
“In the middle of the night?” Laios asked, still with that smile. Maybe Kabru should be cursing Laios instead of himself.
“Is that such a strange time to be lonely?” Kabru said. “Such things are louder in the dark. Harder to bear. You have all your friends around you in the castle. And I have you.”
“You have friends here,” Laios said, eyebrows coming together.
I have a million pawns, a hundred relationships to monitor and maintain, and thousands of things to overthink , Kabru thought. And I have you .
But he wouldn’t for long.
Kabru felt sick. He should ask for more healing.
“Admittedly, I missed your conversation,” Kabru said. “Everybody else wants to talk to me about castle affairs. You can be counted on to avoid the topic.”
Laios laughed, and Kabru felt something in him glow at the sound.
Laios sat back down in the armchair across from him, too far, far enough that Kabru ached again. Laios was still disheveled, and was barely colored by the thin blue light from the window. He looked like a painting, all shapes and impressions that stole feelings out of Kabru’s chest.
“Let’s talk, then,” Laios said. “About anything.”
So they spoke of mysterious culinary affairs and fairytales and, after Laios saw a shooting star, they spoke of wishes.
Kabru didn’t know if he wished, but he wanted .
He wanted so desperately.
Why can’t we have this ? He wondered, at a lull in the conversation where Laios’s eyes were drooping (the king of all Melini looked frustratingly adorable). Am I so determined to deprive myself?
Kabru stood, and Laios became alert at the motion. Kabru excused himself, and when Laios insisted he stay longer, Kabru thought he might burn from the inside out.
“You need sleep,” Kabru said, gently. Laios looked so disappointed, Kabru thought about sending for anti sleep magic, or an ocean of coffee, or anything to make him perk up again. He wondered why he was arguing with Laios, insisting on leaving. Again-- am I really so determined to deprive myself?
Instead, Kabru walked to the door. Laios drifted after him, catching Kabru’s sleeve as he opened the door a crack. Kabru froze and looked back at him.
“Thank you,” Laios said. “For wanting to see me.”
Kabru felt himself crack down the middle, but he didn’t do anything. No impulses.
“And I’ll see you again in the morning,” Kabru said, smiling. “Good night.”
Laios didn’t let go of his sleeve. He was looking at it, very determined, and Kabru could tell that he was thinking.
“Laios?” he said.
“I miss you when you leave,” Laios said. Kabru stopped breathing.
Kabru thought about killing him. It would be easier than hearing those words, in that tone, slightly broken and all too vulnerable and utterly, terribly tempting. Kabru felt like Melini had been plunged back into the ocean. He felt like he’d forgotten how to swim.
Am I so damn determined to deprive myself? He wondered again.
But, no, he knew the truth. He was unsuited for love. Too obsessive, too broken, too analytical and controlling. It made him a good politician. It made him a bad friend, and a worse lover. It also meant he was too flawed for Laios.
Because when he said, anyone will do, he meant, they have to be perfect for you or I will bleed them, and he knew, that means I am also out of the running.
So he said, again, “Good night, Laios,” and he pulled his sleeve from Laios’s grip, and he slipped through the door.
--
Something had gone terribly, horribly wrong.
Kabru looked at the missive in his hands, reading it, even though he knew what it said. He’d penned it. He’d penned five identical versions.
It is my great honor to inform you of your advancement beyond the first round of the tournament to royal marriage.
…
What? What? What? What?
The spymaster had walked it to his door themself. They even laughed at his expense.
“You didn’t have to make me track you down, Master Kabru. But here you are. Your invitation to continue courting the King.” Then they’d handed the letter to Kabru, laughing, and walked away.
It was an incredible scheme. Kabru could participate in the tournament, could prove his affections to Laios and to Yaad and to all of Melini, until they couldn’t argue he was a power-hungry advisor or a liar or an inappropriate match (even though he was, in fact, all of those things). He could fairly prove himself under the flag of “anybody can enter!”, and then Laios could marry him without scandal. It was genius.
Except, Kabru hadn’t sent a love letter. He had not, in fact, entered himself in the tournament for Laios’s hand in marriage. He’d thought himself unsuited. Hadn’t even considered the idea.
How, then…?
Surely nobody could have imitated his handwriting, or claimed to be him? The spymaster’s tracking magic had to do with matching words to writers, as far as Kabru recalled. It had to have been something Kabru wrote, words from his own head, or the magic wouldn’t have traced back to him.
Kabru stumbled back into his room, and sat on his bed without looking up from the missive in his hands. It was crumpling with how tightly he gripped the sides.
Okay, someone had entered him into the competition, somehow, for some unknown reason. That was fine. That was a mystery to solve later. Right now, he had to decide, would he--
Yes .
He was being hasty. He had to think it through before he decided. Would he agree to--
Yes, obviously, yes!
He let out a long breath through his nose and closed his eyes, trying to calm down. He had to be reasonable about this. Was it really smart to compete? Would he agree to compete? Could he win? Or, worse, could he stand to lose? (The thought of being outmatched and actively, permanently, inarguably losing his chance to marry Laios made his throat fill with bile, and fury spit in his gut, so that was probably fine and healthy. Maybe he needed more healing.)
Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, oh, yes. I’m going to agree to this. In fact, I’m going to win this.
Kabru knew, truthfully, he was far too stubborn to drop out, now that he’d been advanced to the second round. He had to win. It was the only way to keep anyone else from marrying Laios. And it was the perfect opportunity to squander all the political roadblocks between him and Laios dating. Nobody could complain if Kabru won, fair and square.
Maybe Kabru himself couldn’t complain. A chance to prove his love, his worthiness , even to himself.
He stood up and hurried to get dressed, ready to bring the missive to Yaad and explain that he would be competing, and could no longer help organize the event.
If he was being honest with himself, he was very excited to see the look on Yaad’s face. He could perfectly imagine the mix of exasperation and agony, but it would be much funnier to see in person.
Oh, this was exciting.