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The very last person that Cledwyn would ever expect to have to fake a romantic engagement with is Ren Payel.
In hindsight, it’s Nerys Truydd’s fault. (In hindsight, many, many things are Nerys Truydd’s fault. She has a habit of making a horrid mess of things and escaping with her hands washed clean every single time.
But Cledwyn is nothing if not a businessman, cold and calculating. He recognizes power when he sees it and he keeps his end of the bargain. Always.)
That last word leaves a taste of bitterness in his mouth. It’s his own loyalty he’s got to blame for this situation really.
“I don’t want to,” Ren huffs, glaring at the pile of vegetables relegated to a corner of his dish.
“It’s good for you–isn’t that a priestly value? Maintaining a healthy body, inside and out?” Cledwyn retorts. Ren balks at the words.
“There’s nothing healthy about this,” he says. He’s still glaring at the vegetable like it’s killed his family which is ironic considering he treats the actual cause with more civility.
They’ve amassed a crowd in the lunchroom, which Nerys tips her head slightly to gesture at. They’re all watching and waiting to see what they do next and it is only with great resignation that Cledwyn gives it to them.
He grabs the bottom of Ren’s chin and tugs before he can protest, shoving a forkful of green beans into his open mouth.
“My,” the McKinnon girl that’s always following Nerys around coos happily, chin resting on her palm. She scrapes her utensil against the edge of her empty plate. “You two make such a lovely pair!”
Nerys’ eyes are mirthless as she regards the two of them.
“Don’t they?”
Perhaps a tiny smidgen–an inkling, really–of this whole situation is Cledwyn’s fault. He’d been too careless on the training field and he really hates staining a fresh bed of sheets with his blood so he seeks out Nerys’ room in the middle of the night.
She looks displeased but not surprised to see him.
“It’s late,” she says curtly, glancing out the window. He holds up one bloodied arm in response.
She sighs and shuffles after him, the heavy oak door of her bedroom swinging shut behind her.
“I’m surprised you couldn’t find Ren Payel’s dorm yourself with all your spies,” she says as they make their way down the corridor. Cledwyn smiles ruefully.
“Oh, I know where it is but he wouldn’t open the door if it was just me.”
Nerys whips around to face him now, eyes flashing with the knowledge that she’s being used as a buffer.
“I’m adding this to your debt,” she grouses as she knocks.
“Sure, sure,” he agrees easily.
It takes near-banging on the door to rouse Ren from his sleep but he finally opens it on the seventh knock.
“Nerys! What–oh.”
Cledwyn bullies his way inside with little preamble and Nerys follows him in.
“Good morning to you too, I suppose,” Ren grumbles but dusts off his covers to make room to sit. Cledwyn crashes more than sits on the bed–still gripping his arm to his chest. The world spins in his vision and he swears internally–he must have lost more blood than he thought.
“You really need to stop making a habit of this,” Ren tsks at him, and he isn’t sure if he’s referring to the nightly appearances or the injury.
“Thank you for your concern,” Cledwyn snaps back and Ren’s grip fumbles as he attempts to roll up his sleeve.
“That’s–I’m–I don’t care about you!” he snaps hotly before grabbing the flesh of his arm, light pooling from his palms.
It really is a testament to Ren’s divine powers that Cledwyn feels better in seconds, nothing but a warm handprint inked onto his skin as a reminder of the cut.
“There, done,” Ren says, snappish. “Now get out before–”
The door swings open and all three of them squint in the sudden light, the outline of a figure in the doorway.
Joseph is standing in the entrance, one torch held high above his head.
“It’s long past curfew and all of you know there’s no leaving the dorms past curfew,” he snaps. “The Student Council will see you to advise punishment.”
Neither Nelysion or Abellus have the power to bully Cledwyn down to the Student Council room for questioning, especially when he’s visibly ill in bed. It’s just Ren and Nerys making the lonely walk of shame, accompanied by half-a-dozen Student Council members.
She eyes Ren and the way he’s picking at his fingers warily.
“Let me do all the talking,” she mouths at him and he nods once in acknowledgement.
Abellus looks pissed and Nelysion looks mildly irritated at the hour but both of them are on high alert for any news regarding Cledwyn, especially given his recent track record. Natasha looks like she’s about to fall asleep standing up.
“Ren Payel, Nerys Truydd,” Abellus starts without preamble. “What were you doing with Cledwyn Maindelandt at this hour?”
The disdain with which he speaks is sickening, making all of Ren’s hairs stick up the wrong way.
“Holding hands and singing–”
“As you may know, Ren and I are friends from our shared Berlanese class,” Nerys says, cutting him clean off. “He told me he had important news to share with me. I knew it was breaking curfew but as one of my few friends at school, I considered the risk worth it. I see now that I made a mistake and should have asked him to tell me in the daytime.”
“It’s good to hear you acknowledging your wrongdoings,” Nell says, smiling at her and Abellus rolls his eyes. “What was the important news?”
Nerys takes a deep breath and steels herself.
“I-I didn’t want to say it since it’s very personal and Ren is very shy about it but I see now that I have to say it to explain my actions.” Nerys has them all in the palm of her hand, sitting forward on the edge of their seats now. “Ren wanted to introduce me to his secret boyfriend!”
All hell breaks loose after that. Natasha, honest-to-god, trips and Nelysion sends a meaningful look to Abellus that Nerys neither wants to or is able to unpack. Punishments are doled out accordingly–more paperwork to be done, grounds work for Ren, and well, neither of them are able to touch Cledwyn–but they escape from the situation relatively unscathed.
“I think it’ll work,” Nerys says afterwards, far past the point of bailing out.
“It’s a little bit late to be saying that now, isn’t it?” Ren replies, beating him out to the punch.
“It’ll work,” Nerys says more confidently, gaze flicking between the two of them. “Golden retriever, black cat–it’s the oldest pairing in the book.”
Cledwyn glances over and sees where Ren’s leaning against the railing, having peeled off his shoe to scratch at the bottom of his foot with one hand.
“Oldest pairing in the book,” he echoes drily and hopes to gods that the look on Nerys’ face isn’t amusement. He’d double her debt out of spite but she’d never let him get away with it.
“Hi, my name is Diane McKinnon and I’m pleased to meet you both!” the girl who’s always following Nerys around like a lost puppy chirps cheerfully. Nerys insisted on having them all meet in the cafeteria for lunch under the guise of “keeping up appearances”.
“I was… surprised to hear about your two’s relationship but I wish you all the best!” Diane bravely barrels on.
“You and half the school population,” Ren mutters under his breath and Cledwyn delivers an elbow to his ribcage in a very clear shut-the-fuck-up gesture.
“I’ve always thought it was fine for boys to kiss other boys, I don’t know why everyone makes such a big deal of it. And girls should be able to kiss girls too, following that logic,” she says and receives a handful of blank stares in response. “I’m glad that the rumors weren’t true though,” she mumbles, half-to-herself through a mouthful of potatoes.
“What rumors?” Ren presses because if he’s got another secret lover in the shadows according to the rumor mill, he thinks he might actually lose it.
“Oh…” Diane trails off, flicking her eyes between Nerys and Ren and then back to Nerys again. “Well, um, ah, never mind! Aren’t these potatoes just delightful?”
Ren wants to press further but under the table, Cledwyn squeezes his thigh in what is clearly another shut-up gesture and now Ren is too pissed that Cledwyn is fucking touching his leg underneath the lunch table to be concerned about anything else.
Diane manages to fill the rest of the meal with idle chatter, conversing with Nerys about their classmates and studies and upcoming exams. The two of them bid goodbye on the hour, carrying their plates back to the counter and Cledwyn watches them go.
“The McKinnon girl, she’d make a good match, right?” Ren pauses, mid-chew, to stare at him and Cledwyn wrinkles his nose.
“Thu McKishuh wha?” he says incoherently and Cledwyn closes his mouth for him. He also hasn’t let go of his fucking leg this whole time, which Ren only realizes belatedly now when he feels his thumb draw a small circle on his skin. He shakes him off aggressively like a wild dog.
“Chew and swallow,” Cledwyn says which Ren begrudgingly does, glaring at him all the while. “She’d treat Nerys well.”
“Are you sure?” Ren asks, jutting his jaw out in what he probably thinks is a display of bravado but instead looks like his mouth is bent out of shape.
“Her family’s powerful and she’s nice–loyal, more like. Reminds me of someone,” Cledwyn says, gaze sliding sideways but the reference goes right over Ren’s head.
“She’s not using her, is she?” he asks, squinting suspiciously at their figures. “The bubbly personality could all be a ruse.”
“No, she’s not using her,” Cledwyn replies. “Not in the usual sense, at least.”
“I guess I approve then,” Ren grumbles, arms folded across his chest.
“Our… friendship has long been public,” Nerys says, glancing over at Ren. She has her feet propped up on a table because her legs are too short to reach the floor. “But I was hoping to keep our involvement a secret,” she continues.
“As was I,” Cledwyn remarks. “You’d make a good spy.”
“Nelysion is wary of me but he still needs me–so he’ll keep me around for now,” she concedes, frowning down at a scuff mark on the floor.
Ren stands up abruptly, disrupting the flow of the conversation that’s been swinging back and forth like a pendulum.
“I was hoping to keep our relationship out of the public, or better yet, out of existence forever!” he huffs, arms folded across his chest as he glares at Cledwyn.
Cledwyn stares at the way he looks like an angry puppy that’s gotten its favorite toy wrenched from it.
“There, there,” he says, reaching out to ruffle his hair like a dog’s. “Things will look up soon.”
Ren bites the meat of his palm in retaliation.
“So. Cledwyn , that’s your type?” Mahradi calls down, unprompted, in the middle of class. The professor has unfortunately stepped outside to deal with another student and Ren’s left to fend for himself in his absence. “I guess instead of worrying for Truydd’s sake, I should have been worried about myself.”
There’s a raucous bout of laughter before Ren whips around to face him, anger boiling on his tongue. Mahradi has to be reckless, plain stupid, or both to think he can run his mouth like that.
There are three absolute powers in this school and none of them are some high-ranking noble that can’t even translate a paragraph right.
“Are you really in a position to be insulting my boyfriend like that? He doesn’t take very kindly to insults to me because he considers them insults to him.”
All the color drains out of Mahradi’s face at the reminder of every horror story about Cledwyn Maindelandt that has graced the school’s rumor mills. Mahradi doesn’t apologize but he dutifully sticks his head back down at his paper, which is as good as defeat.
Ren looks all too smug at the lack of retort, pleased at having dug his way out of a situation without outside help for once.
“This is kind of fun,” he says, smiling impishly at Nerys. She pauses in her coursework to flash him one thumbs-up dully in response.
Ren Payel regrets every kind thing he’s ever said, no thought , about Cledwyn Maindelandt. He’s trapped between a rock and a hard place–where both objects are the school’s large amount of closeted fujoshis that have come crawling out of the woodworks at the news. All he wanted was to get to class on time.
“Are you popular?” Ren hisses under his breath. Cledwyn arches one perfectly manicured eyebrow at him in response and Ren kicks the back of his foot in response. “Is it me? Why are there so many fucking people coming to watch u walk in the hallways?”
“I’ll have you know that I’ve received many marriage proposals across my time here,” Cledwyn retorts in response.
“Me too,” Ren protests stubbornly, although most of them came before he lost his brother and all of them were after his power. Cledwyn smiles like he can read his thoughts.
“A lot of people were interested in tying themselves to me through matrimony.”
“And yet the only one who doesn’t want it is the one who gets it,” Ren finishes.
“Sure. Now look alive, lest we incur Nelysion and that wily snake of a crown prince’s suspicion,” Cledwyn says, his teeth clenched in some horrid rendition of a smile.
“Of course, honey ,” Ren bites out and takes pure delight in the shock that splits Cledwyn’s expression clean open.
“Right, then,” Nerys says, standing with a swish of her skirts. They’ve taken to meeting in the library to discuss the next steps of their “plan”, given that Cledwyn has an unspoken monopoly on it. “I better get going now. I promised Diane I’d study with her for tomorrow’s exam.”
Cledwyn waves her off with one hand, not glancing up from the book on his lap.
“Don’t stay up too late!” Ren calls out after her. “Make sure to take a break from studying for dinner!”
“Study well to get top marks so you get an invitation to next semester’s dinner,” Cledwyn chimes in.
“They’re serving your favorite in the cafeteria tonight. Please remember to eat!”
Cledwyn shakes his head at him.
“Diane will make sure she eats, don’t worry about her.” Ren fidgets nervously in his seat in response.
“Alright, I guess that makes sense,” he admits begrudgingly.
Nerys gives the two of them a funny look before ducking through the entrance. Ren studies her expression with mute horror.
“Oh my god, is this what having a kid is like?”
“Hi,” Cledwyn says without preamble, showing up at his door at exactly three in the morning, this time with no Nerys in tow. Ren’s shock has unfortunately been dulled by the routine and he props the door open with little complaint.
“We really need to stop doing this,” Ren says, even as he prepares a roll of gauze and a warm washcloth from a basin.
“Why not?” Cledwyn retorts, already lounging on his bed. “It helps our narrative and it’s convenient.”
“I’m not your personal physician!” he huffs, the words a stark contrast to his actions. Cledwyn raises one eyebrow at the irony and Ren practically gags him with a washcloth to shut him up.
“Relax,” Cledywn says and he’s not sure which one of them he’s talking to. “I don’t forget a debt owed. I’ll pay you back one day.”
Ren grouses at that, palms flush against the gash in his leg. The room fills with holy light as he rolls his eyes.
“There’s nothing you have that I want,” he says as Cledwyn’s eyes slide shut. Ren’s bed is comfier than his, they don’t have to worry about getting caught since their secret’s leaked to the whole school and the Student Council can’t really touch him–really, is there even any point in returning to his own room?
“You sure about that?” he asks and is met with the slap of a towel to his thigh.
“Yes, and now get out of my bed! I want to sleep!”
“Are you two attending the costume ball tonight?” Nerys asks them, legs neatly crossed at the ankles. She’s carrying a book that she probably doesn’t even need to read.
“Are you attending the ball tonight?” Ren says with the same intonation as an angry father who’s just discovered that his daughter will be staying out past curfew.
“Yes, for a short while with Diane,” she obliges. “She coordinated our matching outfits.”
“How quaint,” Cledwyn ribs and Nerys stares back at him blankly.
“Still, a ball can be dangerous! What if one of you trips and falls and sprains your ankle in a dark corridor and then no one is able to find you until the next morning of and then–”
Nerys waves his concern off and turns to Cledwyn instead.
“You should for appearances purposes,” she says. “I’m still not sure if we’ve thrown Abellus and Nelysion completely off our scent.”
“Right,” Cledwyn says, one hand over his face at the thought of trying to wrangle Ren’s stubborn ass into a costume. “We’ll be there.”
“For the last time, why do I have to be the princess?”
“If you have another costume lying around, be my guest,” Cledwyn replies. “And don’t say you’re going to be a pope–the point of a costume party is to dress as something you’re regularly not.”
Ren balks at the irony.
“You’re literally dressed as a knight.”
“I’m a duke, there’s a difference,” he offers pleasantly and pushes him further down the walkway. Ren wobbles over the stones in high heels.
“It is humiliating enough to be seen with you,” he spits as they pass through the entrance. “It should be considered inhumane to be seen in a dress with you. ”
“At least the dress compliments your hair color,” Cledwyn says, admiring the frills. “Pink on pink.”
“I’ll fucking show you pink when I knock your lights out–”
“Smile, darling, people are watching,” he says, voice saccharine sweet as he leads him by the hand.
Ren stomps on his foot with the point of his heel.
Nelysion squints at the corner of the dance floor occupied by the unlikely pair, Cledwyn laughing with an unrecognizable twinkle in his eye as he spins an indignant Ren around.
“What are they doing?” he asks.
“Having fun?” Natasha suggests as Ren practically knees his partner in the gut.
Abellus shrugs, already two drinks deep. The alcohol unfortunately does little to quell his confusion.
“I have absolutely no idea.”
Cledwyn waits after another round of healing for a retort that never comes. He’s lounging in Ren’s bed again, a washcloth hanging over the dried blood on his arm, his cuts freshly closed. He cracks one eye open at the suspicious bout of silence.
Ren is gripping the bedpost like he’s holding on for dear life, anguish rippling through his face. Cledwyn’s up in seconds, his shoes slamming against the floorboards. He slides further down on the mattress to face him.
“What’s wrong?” he asks and Ren opens and closes his mouth wordlessly, trying to shoo him off with one hand.
“M’fine,” he says, white-knuckling the bed frame. Cledwyn frowns because every single aspect of his body is a siren blaring that he’s not fine. “It’s just been a while since I had a leaf.”
“A leaf?” Cledwyn echoes incredulously and the fuzzy memory of Nerys wedging some foreign plant into his mouth comes barreling back. “What kind of leaf? Do you want me to find one?”
“No!” Ren yells and Cledwyn jumps at the unusual jump in noise level. “No, I’ve gone clean. Nerys told me to and I–it was destroying my life. It’s my own fault, don’t worry about it. I’m just dealing with the consequences.”
“What does it feel like?” Cledwyn says, kneeling down on the floor next to him, somewhere between morbid fascination and thinly-veiled concern.
“Like I’m going crazy,” Ren huffs, sweat beading on his temple. “Like my jaw aches from not having something between my teeth, like my whole system is shaking from the lack of energy. I feel like I can taste it on my tongue but it’s a shadow of the true feeling, a shade of the ecstasy.”
Cledwyn vaguely remembers the properties of the leaf, as per Nerys’ description–she’d mostly used it as an adrenaline boost to get him to the dorms.
“Do you want my help?” he asks calmly and Ren finally turns to look at him now, a depraved light in his eyes.
“What could you possibly do to help?” he spits.
“I could stick something between your teeth,” Cledwyn supplies vaguely. “I could give you a different type of adrenaline boost.”
And because Ren is clearly at the end of his rope, he throws caution to the wind and his hands up in the air.
“Why not?”
Cledwyn smiles and that’s all the permission he needs. He lunges forward, knocking Ren clean off the bedpost and onto the floor, kissing him hard into the floorboards. Ren is both too stunned and too occupied to speak.
When Cledwyn said he was going to stick something between his teeth, Ren didn’t expect his fucking tongue. He moves so much more than a pezal leaf, pressing hard against the roof of his mouth.
But it’s good, it’s distracting–it’s something to focus on besides the shudders wracking his system and Cledwyn must have done this before because he knows how to tip his chin to get a better angle, knows all the sweet spots of his mouth.
Ren writhes in his grip and sucks on his tongue like he needs it to survive.
And Cledwyn is right. It is a different type of energy boost.
When Ren finally stops shaking, Cledwyn lets him go, depositing him neatly on the bed. It is only with the remains of his pride that he stops himself from reaching after him.
“Alright, good night then,” Cledwyn says, wiping Ren’s saliva off his mouth like it’s wayward food crumbs. His nonchalance is appalling as he closes the door gently behind him.
“What the fuck,” Ren says to his empty room, cheeks flushed and chin tucked neatly against the blanket from where Cledwyn pulled it up. “ WHAT THE FUCK? !”
“And so that’s what I told him–you’re not even listening, are you?”
“Am too,” Cledwyn counters neatly. “Your classmates are assholes and you’re close to failing because you spend all your time arguing with them instead of studying.”
“Not true at all!” Ren huffs, indignant. They’ve reached his classroom now and they’re lingering by the doorway, students flitting in and out. “You weren’t listening at all –admit it.”
“I was listening,” Cledwyn replies because he’d rather die than admit defeat. He leans forward to give him a chaste kiss and then walks it off like it’s nothing, waving one hand in a goodbye. “See you at lunch.”
Ren manages a garbled, incoherent noise before nearly combusting on the spot.
“I don’t remember making out excessively in the hallways as part of the plan,” Nerys says dully, like she’s describing the weather.
Ren is flushed to his roots (pink on pink) and doubled over from embarrassment.
“I don’t remember announcing my relationship without my consent as part of the plan, either,” Cledwyn replies cooly and Nerys shrugs.
“I had to adapt.”
“So did I,” he counters and she finally lets it go.
“Just no making out in front of me. Please,” she says with a note of abject horror in her voice and that’s enough to break Ren’s self-esteem again.
Ren is not pleased to see him when he shows up at his door at 4 in the morning. Well, he’s never pleased to see him but he’s especially angry now–silent fury rolling off of him in ways.
He still lets him in though–it’s hard to deny Cledwyn when he’s practically leaning against the frame to stay upright, a blade having pierced straight through his thigh.
He heals him quickly and quietly, the holy power feeling less like a balm and more like a burn. He floods his veins with light like he’s trying to blind him and Cledwyn winces from the pain.
He tries to stand as soon as the light dissipates.
“Alright, I’ll be–”
“Lie back down,” Ren snaps, cutting him clean off as he pushes his shoulder back into the mattress. “This isn’t like your previous cuts and bruises. You almost lost your leg tonight, it’ll take more time to heal.”
“Right,” Cledwyn echoes, eyeing the way his hand lingers on his shoulder.
Ren finally lets go after a minute, opting to pace around the room instead like he’s trying to bore holes into the floorboards.
“Are you upset?” Cledwyn asks and Ren turns on his heel, every curse imaginable on the tip of his tongue.
“Am I–Am I upset? ” he laughs. “Upset doesn’t even begin to describe it.”
“Are you upset with me?” Cledwyn ventures and Ren stomps closer now, one knee on the bed. He studies Cledwyn’s features like he’s trying to carve them into his memory.
“What am I to you, Cledwyn? Am I just another pawn for you to use? A convenient healer to keep in your back pocket in case of emergencies? Someone to blow off steam when everything gets too much?”
Cledwyn’s only seen Ren get truly angry like this once before, when someone had the nerve to accuse Nerys of sleeping her way to the top. His fury is quiet and swift, each word a carefully calculated hit.
“Why are you doing this to me?” he asks, tucking both knees onto the mattress. “Is it fun for you? Entertaining? Are you so bored that you have nothing better to do than fuck with my feelings?”
“Tell me now–do you even care about me?” His voice cracks on the last syllable, the raw emotion in his voice bleeding through the gap. He studies Cledwyn with his lip tucked between his teeth, gaze roaming his expression.
Ren wasn’t built for the world of politics and people. He trusts too blindly and openly, easy prey for the picking. He is the light to Cledwyn’s shadows. There’s so much vulnerability carved into his eyes, so much hope and good and trust.
It has been so long since someone looked at him like that. (It may be the first time ever that someone’s looked at him like that.) He’s not sure what he could have possibly done to deserve it.
“I do,” Cledwyn says, swallowing against his own better judgment, against every hidden rule of politics etched into his system, against every instinct ingrained into his system by two decades of living in society’s spotlight. The words burn as they leave his mouth. “Love you.”
“Oh,” Ren says quietly, barreled over by the sheer vulnerability of the confession. Not one to be outdone, he flushes red and fists the bedsheets in determination. “M-Me too.”
“Don’t go,” Cledwyn says, hopelessly vulnerable for once as he lifts one hand out. Ren takes it over in his palm as he lies down next to him.
“I won’t.”
They lay quietly in the dark before Ren begrudgingly lifts his face up to talk to him.
“You can stay the night,” he offers for the first time and Cledwyn smiles at that, chin tucked into his hair.
“I’m in your care.”