Chapter Text
“I have been thinking,” Damen said cautiously, “that perhaps it is time to marry.”
Laurent, pliant in his arms after a lazy bout of lovemaking, suddenly stiffened.
Damen cursed his eagerness. A mere three weeks of peace between their kingdoms now united was not enough time to undo the hurt that Laurent had endured. How foolish of him. How boyish and lovesick and careless to disturb the fragile intimacy they’d been working so hard to cultivate.
Beside him, pale back pressed against his chest, Laurent was silent. Dreadfully, painfully silent. After a long and considerate pause, he swallowed tightly and nodded.
“Yes,” Laurent said, “I think that would be wise.”
He could not have said it more dispassionately if he had tried. Damen felt his stomach sink as if lined with a lead weight.
“Oh,” was all he could manage to say, and, “Good.”
Laurent disentangled himself from the circle of Damen’s arms and pushed himself up onto an elbow. His golden hair was disheveled, betraying the notes of passion strung between them not moments earlier, but his eyes were terribly cold.
“Have you thought of who you might select as a bride?” Laurent asked. “Vannis could make an excellent ally, and if not there are plenty of Vaskian warriors you may wish to choose from.” He tilted his head, tone clinical. “One might already be swollen with your child.”
Damen’s mouth hung open in shock. He tried to work his jaw but sound remained elusive. The most intelligent and wise man he had ever encountered had just proven himself to be gloriously, giddily stupid. Laurent continued to rattle off names of minor nobilities that might prove political gain in the more neutral territories. He was halfway through explaining that he did not expect Damen’s marriage bed to interrupt their “arrangement” when Damen felt his blood begin to surge and he forced out an interruption of his own.
“No!” he said forcefully, and then a little quieter, “Laurent. No.”
Peeved at being so cut off, Laurent fixed him with a glass-eyed stare.
“I’m sorry,” he said with a voice that could cut diamonds, “did you already have someone in mind?”
Damen reached out to touch Laurent’s shoulder, felt the muscles freeze under his hand.
“Yes,” Damen said tenderly, “You.”
Beneath his fingers, Laurent began to tremble. His glacial eyes suddenly flooded with a roiling of emotions that was almost too much for Damen to bear at once.
“Me?” Laurent asked. His voice was heartbreakingly small. “You wish to marry – me?”
Damen pulled himself up to sit, casting the sheets over the both of them for a sliver of decorum in the face of solemnity.
He took one of Laurent’s hand between his. His pulse trembled like a tiny bird’s.
“Of course you,” Damen said, as though it were the most obvious thing in the world. To him, of course, it was.
“Laurent,” he said, infinitely patient, infinitely kind, “do you not know that I love you?”
The words chipped at a heretofore unknown barrier in Laurent’s heart and his lip began to tremble. His eyes pooled with crystalline tears.
“I-,” Laurent began, but was unable to finish. For once, the King of Vere was rendered entirely speechless.
Knowing instinctively that there were no further words for this moment, Damen gathered Laurent in his arms, holding him to the steadfast wall of his chest. Laurent made a small wheezing sound, trying desperately to tie off this unwanted unspooling of his control.
His fingers clutched at the reassuring strength of Damen’s shoulders, twining up about his neck as Laurent buried his face in Damen’s throat. Damen felt the wetness there and said nothing.
Laurent sat cradled in his lap, shaking with tremors so slight they could barely be felt. Damen felt each of them like a pulse in his own heart.
“You love me,” Laurent whispered, soft enough that both could have ignored it if they chose. Damen nodded, kissed his temple.
“Yes,” he replied, “idiot.”
Laurent laughed at that, though the sound was jagged and hiccupped.
“You want to marry me?”
Damen smiled and tugged gently at Laurent’s neck so they could be face to face. Laurent kept his face hidden, stubborn to the last.
“Laurent,” he chided, pulling a little harder, “let me see you when I say this.”
Laurent shook his head insistently.
Damen sighed. “And what if I match you with tears of my own?”
At that, Laurent shifted a little, peeking tentatively from under Damen’s chin.
True to his word, Damen’s dark eyes were limned with wetness. Emboldened, Laurent drew back a little further, let Damen tuck a finger under his chin.
“You are a fool, King Laurent of Vere, to think I wish to spend my days tied to anyone but you.” A tear of his own swelled and broke free. Laurent was overcome with the urge to kiss it, but did not.
Damen smiled, cupped Laurent’s face in his hands.
“I love you,” he said again with forceful surety, “and you are a fool twice over not to know it. So I will ask you again, properly, since you clearly did not catch my meaning before.”
Damen’s tone teased with such affection that Laurent could not help but curl his mouth in a smile. The resultant mixture of such with his tears caused an ungainly sob to break free, the sound entirely happy but also entirely embarrassing. He raised his fingers to his lips and Damen shook his head, ceasing the motion.
“Laurent,” he murmured, “my Laurent.”
The room was suddenly silent, everything still except Damen’s breath. Laurent’s own was held tight in his breast.
Damen looked at him, into every secretmost part of him, his gaze so wild and fierce with love that it sent quakes through them both.
“Will you consent to be my husband?”
He had barely finished the question before Laurent found himself declaring “Yes!” and then they were kissing, desperate and adoring, tears mingling freely. Damen tasted salt between their lips and in that moment thought he could not have tasted anything sweeter.
“My love,” Laurent sighed into his hair, the words muffled and nigh incoherent, but they rang against Damen’s ribs clear as a bell.
They clutched tightly together, chest to chest, heartbeats imprinting upon each other. Laurent wound his legs around Damen’s waist, not seeking carnality, only a further closeness, wanting nothing at all between them, ever again, for all of their days.
“Are you very sure?” Laurent said quietly, “What of your heirs?”
Damen paused, considering for a long moment. Then, emphatically, “Fuck my heirs.”
Laurent’s mouth split in a watery grin. “Now who is the fool?”
Damen kissed at the corner of his smile. “I believe we both are. Best to shore off our lots together before we are cast into the barrens for our folly.”
At this they both broke into peals of laughter, collapsing sideways to their bed in a tangle of limbs and poorly aimed kisses. Laurent pet his hands through the wilds of Damen’s hair, committing every strand of it and this moment to memory.
“I never thought myself to be married,” he admitted, “least of all for love.”
Damen smiled and nudged their noses together sweetly. “Isn’t it nice to be wrong for once?”
“Yes,” Laurent replied, eyes shining, “it is.”