Chapter Text
Nicaise stood at the edge of the grand hall, his hands balled into fists at his sides. The sunlight poured through the tall arched windows, pooling on the polished floors and casting long, warm shadows. The brightness felt out of place. He was used to dim corners and muted colors, where the Regent’s shadow loomed. Here, everything was too bright, too open, too… exposed.
“You can put that down,” Laurent’s voice, calm and unyielding, cut through the tension. Nicaise flinched, only just realizing his fingers had tightened around the strap of his small bag as if it were a lifeline.
A tall servant approached with an arm extended, and Nicaise reluctantly handed over the bag. It contained little of importance—a change of clothes, a comb, a few trinkets he’d hoarded without knowing why. Besides these, he left it all behind, all of his jewellery, and clothes that are too revealing. Laurent nodded in approval, his cool blue eyes assessing Nicaise with quiet calculation. Not unkind, but reserved.
“Let’s show you to your room,” Damen said, his voice breaking through with a warmth that Nicaise wasn’t prepared for. Damen’s broad frame dwarfed the delicate intricacy of the new palace, his dark skin catching the sunlight and softening his otherwise imposing presence. When he smiled, it was genuine, as though welcoming Nicaise was the most natural thing in the world.
Nicaise didn’t respond, only tightened his lips into a hard line and nodded. He followed them through the corridors, his sharp eyes darting to every corner, mapping exits, memorizing faces. It was a habit, he reminded himself. He didn’t need to be on edge here. But that was hard to believe, even now.
When they reached the room, Nicaise hesitated at the threshold. The door was open, revealing a space that was… plain but comfortable. The bed was a generous size, draped in soft green bedding. A window framed a view of the palace gardens, where the late bloom of flowers spilled color onto the pathways. There was a small table, a wardrobe, and a bookshelf with a few volumes already lined up. It was unassuming.
It wasn’t gilded or ostentatious. It wasn’t a display piece.
It felt real.
“Is it to your liking?” Laurent asked, his tone measured. There was no mockery in it, only a quiet interest that made Nicaise bristle more than scorn might have.
“It’s fine,” Nicaise replied shortly, stepping inside. He placed himself at the edge of the room, away from the centre, keeping both Laurent and Damen in his periphery. The space was his now, they claimed, but it didn’t feel that way yet. Not when they were watching.
Damen seemed to notice his discomfort. “We’ll leave you to settle in,” he said gently. “If you need anything, just ask.”
“There’s no need to hesitate,” Laurent added, his voice softening slightly. “This is your home now, Nicaise.”
Home. The word stuck in Nicaise’s throat, heavy and foreign. He didn’t reply, and they didn’t push him. The door clicked softly shut behind them, leaving him alone.
---
It was late afternoon when Damen reappeared, knocking gently on the doorframe before stepping in with a tray in his hands. The smell of fresh bread and sweet fruit wafted into the room.
“I thought you might be hungry,” Damen said, setting the tray on the small table. Nicaise’s stomach betrayed him with a quiet growl, and he glared at Damen as if the man had orchestrated it.
Damen didn’t seem fazed. “Sit,” he said with a smile. “It’s not poisoned, I promise.”
Reluctantly, Nicaise moved to the chair. The bread was still warm, the butter melting into it. He picked at it cautiously at first but soon began eating in earnest. Damen didn’t leave, but he didn’t speak either. He sat in the other chair, his presence steady and unobtrusive.
“Why are you still here?” Nicaise asked eventually, his voice sharper than he intended.
“I thought you might want company,” Damen said simply. “But if you prefer to be alone, I’ll go.”
Nicaise hesitated. He wanted to say yes, to be left alone to sort through the tangle of emotions he couldn’t name. But some part of him, buried deep and fragile, didn’t want the emptiness. He shrugged instead, and Damen stayed.
---
Later that evening, as the moonlight painted soft silver streaks across the walls of Nicaise’s room, there was a knock at the door. Laurent stepped in quietly, holding a book in one hand. He approached the bed, his movements unhurried, and sat down on the edge of the mattress without asking for permission.
“This,” Laurent began, holding the book where Nicaise could see it, “was one of my favourites when I was your age.” He tilted his head slightly, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “It’s about a boy who survives despite impossible odds. People underestimated him. They wanted to control him, but he found his own way.”
Nicaise said nothing, but his gaze flickered toward the book before darting away.
Laurent’s expression softened. “You don’t have to read it now,” he said, setting the book gently on the table. “But… I thought you might like it.”
When Nicaise still didn’t speak, Laurent exhaled softly and leaned back. “You know,” he said quietly, “I don’t expect you to trust me. Not yet. Maybe not for a long time.”
Nicaise’s posture stiffened, his eyes fixed on the far corner of the room.
“I don’t know everything you’ve been through,” Laurent continued, his voice steady but lower, as though the words were drawn from a well of deeply buried memories. “But I do know what it’s like to be used. To have no one to protect you. To feel like nothing is your own.”
Nicaise’s eyes flickered to Laurent’s face, cautious but sharp.
“The Regent…” Laurent’s jaw tightened, but his tone remained composed. “He took things from me I didn’t think I’d ever get back. He made me believe I was only valuable for what he could take. For years, I didn’t talk about it. I didn’t even let myself feel it.”
He paused, letting the weight of his words settle. “You don’t owe anyone your feelings, Nicaise. But you should know that healing isn’t a race. It took me years to even start.”
Nicaise turned his head slightly, the smallest acknowledgement of Laurent’s words.
“I’m here,” Laurent said finally, his voice soft but firm. “Whenever you’re ready. And if you’re never ready, that’s fine too. I won’t push you.”
For a long moment, the room was quiet except for the sound of the night wind rustling outside. Nicaise didn’t respond, but when Laurent stood to leave, his hand lingered on the book.
When the door clicked shut behind Laurent, Nicaise stared at the book for a long time. He didn’t open it that night, but he pulled it closer to the edge of the table before lying down, his fingers brushing its spine as he drifted off to sleep.
---
The next morning, Nicaise awoke with a start to the sound of footsteps in his room. His breath hitched, panic shooting through him as his body tensed and his eyes darted toward the intruder. Damen stood near the window, holding back a curtain to let in the morning light.
“I didn’t mean to wake you like that,” Damen said immediately, his deep voice unusually soft. He stepped back from the window, hands raised slightly in a gesture of peace. “I’m sorry, Nicaise.”
Nicaise sat up abruptly, his heart hammering against his ribs. “What are you doing here?” he demanded, his voice sharp but cracking slightly at the edges.
Damen hesitated, his brows furrowing in concern. “I came to see if you wanted to walk in the gardens this morning. But I should’ve waited until you were awake.”
Nicaise’s breathing was still uneven, his eyes narrowing. “Don’t sneak into my room,” he said, his voice low but trembling with a mix of anger and something deeper.
“I won’t,” Damen said quickly. “I promise.” He lowered himself to one knee, bringing himself closer to Nicaise’s eye level but maintaining a respectful distance. “Listen to me, Nicaise. I would never hurt you. I would never take advantage of you like… like he did.”
Nicaise froze, the words slicing through the tense air. Damen’s gaze was steady, filled with regret but also unwavering determination.
“You didn’t deserve what happened to you,” Damen said firmly. “None of it. And it will never happen here. Not with Laurent, not with me, not with anyone under this roof."
The weight of Damen’s words settled over the room. Nicaise stared at him, his lips pressed into a thin line.
Damen stood slowly, careful not to make any sudden movements. “I’ll leave if you want me to,” he said. “But if you’re willing, I think you might enjoy some fresh air.”
For a long moment, Nicaise didn’t speak. His body remained tense, but his breathing began to slow. Finally, he gave a small, reluctant nod.
“Alright,” Damen said with a gentle smile. “Take your time. I’ll be right outside the door when you’re ready.”
As Damen turned to leave, Nicaise’s voice stopped him. “Wait.”
Damen paused, looking back.
“I… I’ll come,” Nicaise muttered, his tone brusque. “Just… give me a minute.”
When they emerged a few moments later, Nicaise steps were hesitant, but he followed Damen into the light-filled corridor, the tension between them easing with every step. The gardens were lush and vibrant, the flowers blooming in a riot of colours. Damen walked at an easy pace, pointing out the names of plants and recounting small stories about the palace’s history. Nicaise listened, not because he cared about flowers, but because the steady rhythm of Damen’s voice was oddly comforting.
“You’ll find your place here,” Damen said as they paused by a fountain. “It doesn’t have to happen all at once. But you’re part of this now, whether you believe it or not.”
Nicaise didn’t respond, but his shoulders relaxed slightly. For the first time, he allowed himself to think that maybe, just maybe, he could belong here.
Even if he hasn’t called it home just yet.