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“Prince Jupiter.”
Ripped out of his concentration by the familiar—and completely unexpected—voice, Jupiter jerked his head up only to find Erebus standing in the doorway of the library, staring at him with a blank expression, a hint of distaste within. “E-Erebus,” he said, clearing his throat, fist to his mouth. “Apologies. Did you need something?”
Erebus never spoke to him of his own volition.
He hadn’t for a very long time.
“His Majesty needs to speak to you,” he said, keeping the unnervingly blank expression as he tipped his head slightly to the side. “I’m supposed to bring you to him.” Jupiter opened his mouth, ignoring the familiar sting of regret in his heart, but before he could Erebus cut him off, expression flattening further as he said, “Don’t ask me why. I have no idea.”
“I—well, alright,” he said, closing the book he’d been reading. “Let me shelve this first.”
Erebus just nodded, the distaste back in his expression. Luckily enough for him, Jupiter managed to hide his sigh with the scrape of his chair against the wooden floor, but he scraped together all of his strength to muster a composed smile once he’d shelved the book and had to return to Erebus, hands clasped together behind his back. “Thank you.”
He was met with another glance and a distant nod before Erebus whirled around, stalking down the hallway without a word, and Jupiter strangled back a sigh before following him, steps careful and slow to keep behind him. It made him helplessly weighed down to know it was years later and he still couldn’t have a conversation with Erebus.
One mistake had ruined more than he’d ever thought it could—thought it would.
But he didn’t attempt to strike up a conversation himself, a move perhaps cowardly knowing that he wished they could have the same camaraderie as before, but a move he’d never chosen differently from, not after the first few attempts ended in abject failure and a sting of regret driving deeper and deeper into his heart with each one.
He was sorry, sorry in a way that burned deep in his thoughts.
But figuring out how to word that sorry, wondering if it would even matter at this point… it kept his mouth shut, his words arrested and held back every time without fail. He wondered if Erebus knew that, and he knew just as much that it probably wouldn’t matter to him if he did.
“He’s in the throne room,” Erebus said, drawing to a complete stop abruptly enough that Jupiter narrowly missed running straight into him. “And he wants to speak to you alone.”
Frowning, Jupiter ducked his head in a nod. What could Sol have to speak to him about that was so important? As far as he knew, they weren’t nearing any diplomatic issues or visits, nothing was of major concern with the economy or trade deals, and—
“You should probably go in already,” Erebus hissed, rolling his eyes. “Your Highness.”
He tacked on the title a second after the annoyed statement, and Jupiter knew he should probably chide him for it, but more than anything he just felt his regret spike higher, and so he ignored the statement, clearing his throat before he pushed the throne room doors open, striding inside with the only sound the absent click of his shoes against the marble.
“Sol,” he greeted, finding that he was sprawled weirdly within the throne, attention completely focused on a piece of paper in hand. “You needed me?”
Sol’s head jerked up, an unnerving smile pulling across his face. “Jupiter! Yes, yes, I needed you. I have an important announcement for you!” He fought back a wince at the volume of his shout, clasping his hands behind his back with a composed smile while Sol practically jumped to his feet. “It was your birthday recently, wasn’t it? Happy birthday!”
Jupiter opened and then closed his mouth, deciding not to elaborate that his birthday had been more than a week ago. And that… Sol had already told him happy birthday. On the day of.
“Yes?”
“And you’re 25? Or so?”
“…Yes?” he repeated, even more hesitant. “What is this about, Sol? Is there a milestone I’m not aware of?” Something royal he’d missed education on? That’d happened to him multiple times before already, a hazard of his education starting so… late.
Sol just beamed wider, shaking the sheet of paper in his hands. “No! After everything you’ve done and caused before—” Jupiter winced, nails digging into his palms at his words, but Sol didn’t even seem to notice, just kept speaking with a peppy tone that didn’t match his actual words. “—the court has decided that you have a new responsibility to assume!” He grinned like he’d just delivered the best news of his life. “Now that you’re twenty-five, you have to worry about assuming the throne from me at some point within the next decade, which means you’ll need an heir.” He wriggled one finger towards him. “But first, they want—!”
…Stars, this was not a conversation he wanted to have at any point soon.
“I’m—I’m sorry,” he said, interrupting Sol—whose smile dropped into a frown, his brow furrowing with indignation at the interruption—and putting his hands up. “Are you telling me that I’ll need to do what you did? And find—?”
“Nope!”
He blew out a relieved breath.
Forgive him, but he didn’t even know if he had an idea of who he’d choose. There were… options, but none that he wanted to burden with the life he’d been given.
“The court is arranging a marriage for you!”
Sol dropped back into the throne with his unnerving smile tacked right back on, and Jupiter just stared at him with a dry mouth as he registered the actual words and what they meant for him. “A… marriage? Arranged? To who?”
“Exactly! I’m glad you understand,” he said brightly, waving one hand towards him, the piece of paper bending from the force. “With the second Prince of the neighboring kingdom.”
Jupiter tipped his head down, sliding one hand over his mouth as his fingers dug in against his cheeks; and then he sighed in resignation, completely aware that there was nothing he could do. “I—Alright. Can I ask why, Sol?” It wasn’t like he’d completely failed in his role as the Prince and Heir. He’d… he’d cleaned up his act, and he’d done his best to make up for it all.
“I already told you,” Sol said, some of the amusement dropping from his voice. “Because of how you’ve failed the kingdom before. They need to know you’re committed.” He dropped his head against one hand, his elbow propped against the armrest. “I suppose part of this is my fault for choosing you like I did in the first place, but what can I do?”
An ice-cold malaise spread through his chest, but Jupiter clenched his jaw and ignored it. “I—I understand,” he said, ignoring the subtle tremble in his voice and aware that Sol wouldn’t pay enough attention to hear it either. “When will it be, your Majesty?”
He hummed, mouth twisting to the side. “Six months from now.”
“That’s—that’s near right around the corner,” he said, eyes widening. “Is there a reason you’re telling me now?” And not a year ago? Or longer? “Why is it happening so quickly?”
“So quickly?” Sol parroted. “This has been planned for a year and a half now!”
Jupiter closed his eyes, clenched his jaw, and exhaled once to restrain his instinctive annoyance. Stars knew Sol wouldn’t take it. “May I ask why I wasn’t told until now?”
“Oh, what did it matter to you? It’s for the Kingdom!”
It’s my getting married, he didn’t say, that’s why.
“But I wanted to tell you now because your fiancé will be here tomorrow afternoon, mid-day or so,” he continued cheerfully, not even looking at him. Jupiter’s eye twitched, his lips parting around a surprised sound that he strangled back with all of his willpower. “And you need to be here to greet him. Don’t want to make a bad first impression, right?”
“Right,” he managed, voice strained. “Mid-day, you said?”
“About then.” Sol fanned one dismissive hand towards him. “Just be here after the time you usually eat lunch.” His head jerked to the side, eyes focusing on him so intently Jupiter almost felt like he’d knocked all of the air out of his lungs. “And if you’re not here, you will be punished.” His smile returned, ringing false from the intensity of his eyes. “Okay?”
“I’ll be there,” he said, dipping his head. “I promise, your Majesty.”
“Good! Good.” Sol fanned one hand towards him in a familiar dismissive motion, and reflexively Jupiter pivoted on his heel, taking stiff steps towards the door. “You’ll have a meeting with the courtiers later to talk about the specifics, but I don’t need to be there. Be in the library after lunch, or they’ll find you. Now go! That’s all I needed.” His smile was cheerful—and real, this time—but unwilling to remain another second, Jupiter just gave a quiet sound of affirmation and stepped out of the door, closing them behind him and turning only to find Erebus still leaning up against the wall, his eyes narrowed when Jupiter met them.
“An arranged marriage, huh?” His mouth ticked up in the corners, the scar over his eye tugging as his eyebrow arched. Jupiter winced, trying not to look at it. “Good for you, your Highness.”
He’d been listening?
Jupiter just closed his eyes and sighed, shoulders slumping heavily. “Erebus, I—”
“Apologies,” Erebus interrupted, voice simpering. “I have important duties to get to. Have fun with that, Jupiter.” He whirled around and disappeared down the hallway in a blur of motion, leaving him with a bad taste in his mouth and a thorny vine of familiar, aching regret wrapped tight around his heart.
Stars, he wished he wasn’t such a coward.
But he was, and so instead of following after him as he should have—should have time and time again, and yet never had—Jupiter turned, striding back down the hallway they’d come from, intent to get back to his library and enjoy what little peace he had before the courtiers barged in and made him fully aware of the next stage of his life.
Jupiter had no honest idea how he felt about the whole matter.
He’d known that this would likely happen at some point—the whole getting married thing—and that he’d have to secure an heir, but… this wasn’t by his hand or choice. It made it that much harder to just stand and wait for his apparent fiancé to arrive as Sol asked him inane question after question about the affairs of the Kingdom.
(He wasn’t sure if Sol was quizzing him or if he actually needed the information.
Not that it mattered. Either way, he had to answer.)
But the moment he heard a patterned knock at the door, he straightened up even more, fixing his expression into another composed smile as Sol fixed his own pose on the throne, straightening up and staring at the door with a tiny frown before he called out, “Enter!”
An armor-clad guard stepped into the room, helmet-less.
He bent his head, inclining it towards Sol. “Prince Saturn and his entourage have arrived, Your Majesty. Am I to lead them to the throne room now?”
“Yes,” Sol said, wiggling the fingers on one hand towards the guard. “And announce him before he enters. Show our guests some hospitality!” He dismissed him with another wave of the same hand, and the guard just dipped his head a second time before slipping back out of the doorway, closing it behind him. Jupiter relaxed—just slightly, still stiff as board—and sighed.
“Forgive me,” he said, “but—“
“Forgiven!” Sol grinned at him.
He sighed a second time. “Is this really the best option, Sol? You never married, chosen or not.”
“I also never tried to run away and waste Kingdom resources to find me,” he said, tilting his head with the same intensity as before in his eyes. “Can’t say the same about you, Jupiter.”
Closing his eyes, Jupiter turned to face forward. “I’ve apologized for that, Sol. Punishment was more than paid for it.” And not even by him—by someone who hadn’t even deserved it. “I’ve proved myself to this kingdom, haven’t I? I’ve tried to make up for it.”
And it’s been a decade since.
“Oh, I know! Does it really matter?”
Whatever response Jupiter might have managed—if he would at all—was stopped by a second knock at the door, repeated once before the doors were pushed open completely, revealing the grand entrance doors much farther away, the branching hallways on either side… and a menagerie of people, at the head of which stood someone Jupiter immediately found his eyes drawn to.
It felt impossible to look away even if he’d wanted to.
He barely listened as the guard presented him and the rest of the entourage, because even without it Jupiter thought he would have been able to deduce who he was, because—
Prince Saturn practically shone.
It was like he had his own personal sunlight beaming down on him, his outfit an array of gold and white complimented by the shade of his hair and eyes, eyes that immediately met his own as a smile that seemingly shockingly genuine curved at his lips.
“His Majesty, King Sol, and His Highness, Prince Jupiter.”
He roused at the introduction, dipping his head in a perfunctory half-bow towards the other prince, whose smile only ticked wider as he inclined his head in one of his own bows. “I suppose you’re the one meant to be my fiancé, then? Prince Jupiter?”
Startling at the sound of his voice, Jupiter cleared his throat. “I—yes. Indeed.”
Saturn hummed, eyes crinkling in the corners. “Well, it’s lovely to meet you.”
“You too, i-indeed,” he said, feeling like a broken record and forgetting every bit of etiquette he’d ever learned in his life. “Prince Saturn.” Saving himself from the urge to melt into a royal puddle on the floor, he turned and focused his attention completely on Sol.
He seemed more amused than anything, and when Jupiter knitted his brows slightly in a pleading look, he just blinked once slowly before speaking. “One wing of the palace has been cleared out for you and your entourage,” he said, tipping his head to the side. “Feel free to take the rest of the day to get settled in, but you’re invited to take dinner with Jupiter tonight.” Sol broke into an even more amused grin. “You need to get to know each other, after all!”
Jupiter glanced towards Saturn and immediately looked away once he found he was already looking at him with the same apparent genuine happiness. “Sounds lovely, your Majesty,” he heard him agree after another moment, glancing back only to find he’d dipped his head in another lower half-bow. “Thank you. Is one of the servants going to lead us there?”
“Yes, yes,” Sol said, gesturing towards the guard with one hand. He nodded tightly. “If you need anything, speak to Jupiter or to the guards around the palace. They’re well aware of you and your entourage’s status and will help you or lead you to someone who can help.” He stood up from the throne, straightening up to full height. “Now, feel free to take your leave! I have matters to attend to, but Prince Jupiter will be at your beck and call for the night.”
“Beck and call,” Saturn repeated, gaining another smile. Jupiter cleared his throat, outright ignoring the tiny flare of warmth in his cheeks. “Appreciated, your Majesty.”
“Oh, call me Sol,” he said, giving a loud laugh as he stepped past, several people skittering out of his path, “you’re going to be my son-in-law, aren’t you?”
…That would require Sol to consider them family, wouldn’t it? He may have chosen him as his heir, but Jupiter had—well, he hadn’t felt like that was the association Sol wanted for a long, long time. Sometimes he missed the short period of time it’d felt like he’d gained an actual family.
Most of the time he didn’t.
He missed the friendship he’d once had with Erebus more than he missed any sort of familial ties he might have once wanted with Sol. (Even if both were… sizable wants.)
Saturn said something else to Sol before he swept completely out of the room, but Jupiter was too lost in his own thoughts to really hear or consider the words—but he did drag himself out of his mind when he heard the subtle click of heels against the marble, lifting his head only to find that Saturn had stepped in front of him, the golden hem of his white cloak barely brushing against the marble beneath them. “Prince Jupiter?” He held out one hand, revealing it was decorated with a menagerie of golden rings of all shapes and sizes. Jupiter stared dumbly for a second before recognizing what he wanted and lifting his own, shaking his hand and blinking as his mind caught on just how soft Saturn’s felt against his. And cold. “I thought I’d introduce myself a little closer. Across the room isn’t the best way for introductions, yes?”
“I—no,” Jupiter said, offering him a smile that twitched at the edges. “It’s nice to meet you as well, Prince Saturn.” His eyes crinkled in the corners, hands rising to clasp together in front of his chest. “Am I to assume this was a surprise for you as well?”
He paused, lips pursing. “A… bit of one, yes. I was only told last week. When were you?”
Jupiter sighed. “Yesterday afternoon.”
Saturn’s eyes widened as he blinked several times, lips parting. “Oh. That’s… I suppose I understand your reactions, now. That’s quite the shock.”
Behind them, where his entourage was still gathered near the open throne room doors, one of the people who’d come with him—another man with a long braid of pastel cyan pulled over his shoulder—called out, a loud “Saturn!”, and he turned his head, several thick strands of golden hair falling over his ear to brush against his jawline at the motion.
“Yes?”
“Mate, we need to get everything moved before too late!”
“I’ll be right there, Uranus,” he said, to a nod from the other man; and then he turned his attention back to him, fixing him with another bright smile. “It seems I need to make my leave now. But I’ll be glad to speak to you at dinner!” He wiggled his fingers in a parting wave, whirling around as his cloak flared out with the movement. “Lovely to meet you, Prince Jupiter.”
“Ah—” He cleared his throat. “Jupiter is fine. We’re to be married, aren’t we?”
Stars, that still felt awkward to know. But that thought slipped from his mind as Saturn turned his head, staring at him over his shoulder. “Jupiter, then.” His head tilted slightly, more hair draping over his shoulder, catching a beam of sunlight from the windows behind the throne and glowing gold. “And you may feel free to call me Saturn. You’re right. No need for titles!”
“Saturn,” he echoed, rewarded with another crinkle in Saturn’s eyes before he swept away completely, and before Jupiter knew it the throne room had emptied completely of everyone but him, leaving it almost stingingly quiet in the wake of everything.
He turned his hand over, studying it as he remembered the feel of Saturn’s against his.
And then he sighed, dropped both hands limp at his sides, and struck out from the throne room, determined to find something to do to distract himself in the hours before dinner. Perhaps he could find some mind-numbing treatise or trade deals to mull over. There were always plenty of those, and stars knew he’d find more of those on his docket before long.
Dinner started…
Not exceedingly awkwardly, but certainly enough to dull his appetite. It wasn’t made any better by the fact that the curtains had been drawn mostly closed, the usually sun-lit dining room now lit up mostly by scattered candles that drew flickering light across the walls and Saturn’s face across from him, setting his eyes practically molten when they caught it. Saturn seemed to feel the same way, prodding at his food more than he actually ate it, and it took more than a few minutes of awkward silence before they finally managed to strike up a conversation of sorts.
“You’re the sole prince of this kingdom, correct?”
Saturn tipped his head to the side, the actual question taking Jupiter by surprise for a moment before he nodded, taking a sip of his water. “I think Sol just never saw reason or want for any others.” He pressed his lips together to restrain the words that wanted to follow. I don’t think he saw reason or want for my choosing, either. “I’ve never minded too much.”
“I couldn’t imagine,” Saturn said, brows knitting slightly, a tiny crease forming between them. “Is it stressful? To be the only heir? To have everything upon you?”
He paused. “If you put it that way, yes. But it’s all I’ve ever known.”
Well, technically… not. But that was more than he wanted to reveal at the moment. “You’re the second prince of your kingdom. How do you feel about leaving it for this?”
Saturn’s brow knitted further. “Well…” His eyes dropped down to his food, lips pressing together in a frown Jupiter had the irrational urge to do anything to wipe away. “I suppose to steal your words, it’s all I’ve ever known. No use in feeling bad about it when there’s no other option, yes?” His frown morphed into a weak smile as he glanced up. “Besides! You seem lovely, and for the short time I’ve been here I’ve been treated well. What’s there to feel bad about?”
Being forced to leave what you know and are familiar with for something entirely different?
Jupiter didn’t voice that. “How admirable,” he said instead, lips twitching into a tiny smile that granted him a much stronger one from Saturn. “Of a mindset.”
“Thank you! And,” he said, sitting up much straighter, “it’s not like I’ve left everything behind! I was able to bring my appointed guard, and a friend of mine, and several of the staff I know the best.” His eyes shone. “I brought what mattered to me, and hopefully I’ll find more of that here.”
“A friend?”
Saturn blinked slowly. “Well, as you said, we’re to be married, aren’t we? I’d hope we could become friends.”
Jupiter choked on air. “No-ah, I meant—” He pressed a fist to his mouth and cleared his throat as Saturn stared at him with something like amusement, the smile curving at his lips making him feel oddly warm. “I meant that question to ask about the friend you brought. Not that—Not that I’m saying we won’t become friends! That’s… that’s what I meant.”
He needed to get control of himself.
Still, Saturn didn’t seem concerned or annoyed at his fumbling. “Oh! I see. You heard him earlier, in the throne room. Uranus. He’s a close friend of mine from childhood, and his adopted brother Neptune is my appointed guard, so I’ve grown quite attached to them. You’re sure to meet them soon!” He pressed his index finger to his bottom lip. “Did you have any friends from childhood?”
One.
And… had.
“No,” he said, his own burgeoning smile dropping. “I didn’t have much of one. A childhood, that is.”
Saturn’s smile dropped as well as he stared at him mournfully. “Oh. I’m sorry...”
“I’m used to it.” Jupiter took a longer sip of water to hold off from speaking for several moments. “Can I ask about your… jewelry?” he finally managed, searching for another topic to explore. “That’s certainly a lot of rings. And bracelets.”
Saturn kept a considering look for another second before it broke into a bright smile. “I just enjoy wearing them,” he said, wiggling the fingers of both hands laden down with rings, his bracelets clinking against each other when he twisted his arms to show them off, glittering golden in the candlelight. The closer look allowed Jupiter to realize his nails were painted a similar golden, the shade perfect against his tanned skin. “And it’s rather lovely to see them all together, don’t you agree?”
“They fit you,” he agreed. “Against your hair and eyes.”
He truly was a vision of gold.
Eyes crinkling in the corners yet again, Saturn stared at him with a highly pleased expression. “Thank you!” He tucked a lock of golden hair behind one of his ears. “I appreciate the compliment.” Jupiter just dipped his head in answer, caught by surprise when he continued with, “And may I say, I love the color of your eyes. Reminds me of lightning during a thunderstorm, yes?”
Jupiter blinked several times, ignoring the warmth that fed into his cheeks.
“I—well, thank you,” he said, “I’ve been told they’re unnerving.”
“Nonsense!” Saturn tipped his head to the side. “Perhaps on another person, but you…? Not at all.”
Ah. Now he knew what it meant to be flustered.
“Thank you,” he repeated, feeling vaguely like an animal caught in the path of incoming arrow—and without anything else to say, he turned his attention to his food, a cue that Saturn seemed to understand as he gave a quiet, clearly amused laugh and turned to his own food, fork prodding at it. Thankfully, by the time they’d both finished their respective plates he felt much more composed, enough to offer as he stood up, “Can I walk you back to your wing? I’m sure the guards are outside and waiting to do so, but I thought I’d offer.”
“So sweet!” Saturn said, granting him another bright smile. “I’d love that.”
Jupiter offered him his hand, and Saturn let him pull him up and out of his chair—though again, his mind twisted on the chill and softness of his hand against his own—and to his feet before fixing his hair, tucking errant golden strands behind his ears and setting it to drape against his back. “Am I right to assume we’ll be having dinner together again?” he asked, clasping his hands together before he began to twist one ring repeatedly back and forth. Jupiter didn’t acknowledge the obvious nervous tic. “At least I’d love to.”
He nodded tightly. “At least once a week, as far as I’m aware.”
Sol had stopped by his assigned office-of-sorts to make sure he knew that. And that he wasn’t to do anything to jeopardize this, which felt rather unneeded. He’d been a model of royalty for some time now.
“Lovely!” Saturn dropped his hands and dipped his head. “Lead the way to my new quarters, please.”
Jupiter’s mouth twitched up in one corner before he did exactly that, leading Saturn back into the hallway as the servants slipped into the dining room behind them to clear up the dishes. “You’ve moved in properly, then? Nothing out of order or needing replaced?” If he’d been aware of this for more than one afternoon he would have checked up on the wing and rooms himself, but he hadn’t even been aware that Sol had been clearing it out.
Fascinating how little he’d known about this.
“Everything’s gone perfectly,” Saturn said, waving one hand. “And my quarters are just as perfect.”
“Good.” Jupiter stared forward down the hallway, briefly glancing out the windows to catch the last rays of sun painting the navy night skies orange far on the horizon before he instead refocused on Saturn, catching his golden gaze still settled on him, strands of hair already freed to frame his strikingly picturesque features. “If you find yourself in need of anything, just let me know. I’ll get it handled.”
“Oh, I’m sure you will.”
Saturn’s low statement took him by surprise enough to eliminate any more conversation, his cheeks burning with a new warmth that only dissipated by the time he’d found himself in the hallway he knew Saturn’s room was in. “Have a good night,” he said, dipping his head slightly. Saturn’s smile grew. “And… sweet dreams.”
“Sweet dreams to you as well, my apparent fiancé,” Saturn said, fixing him with a satisfied expression before he whirled around and disappeared into his room, leaving Jupiter to stare wide-eyed at the wall for several seconds. He roused himself only with a rough hit of one fist against his chest, turning to find one of the guards situated in the hall was staring forward with a visible smile that he was obviously trying to smother.
Jupiter chose not to say anything, sighing heavily before he roused himself and hurried forward, determined to return to his own quarters and find something to occupy his time.
His weekly dinners with Saturn continued, and before he knew it Jupiter thought he could consider the other an actual friend—somewhat of an awkward thought to him considering they were arranged to be married before the summer ended, and that the last time he’d had someone he considered a close friend and not just an acquaintance he talked to, it’d—well, it hadn’t ended well.
And that’d been quite some time ago.
But he did enjoy Saturn’s company, and falling into conversation with him was easier than he thought it could be. They’d discussed plenty of matters at this point: their own respective kingdoms (which had also given him the awkward scenario that he’d asked Saturn what he’d missed about his home and had been panicked to see him burst into tears over his plate, though he’d managed to rein in his reaction quicker than he’d thought was possible), hobbies and the like (though Jupiter’s only enjoyable hobby to offer had been reading, which Saturn had stared owlishly at him for several seconds before finally asking what type of reading he preferred), and his adjustment to living in a completely new space (better than Saturn had expected, which he’d admitted with a smile that struck straight to his heart in a rather unexpected manner).
It was… nice. It had made the time passing much more bearable than it’d been in a long, long time. Jupiter found himself not so discontent with Sol’s decision to push him into this arranged marriage so unexpectedly, almost somewhat glad for it, something that had been very low on his expectations to happen.
Not that his entire life had abruptly changed. Plenty had remained the same.
Plenty.
“What are you doing here?”
Erebus fixed him with an annoyed stare from where he stood on the balcony—obviously not on any sort of duty or assignment, since he lacked any sort of armament or the usual rapier at his side. Jupiter’s mouth went dry, his posture straightening up as he stared in surprise. “My apologies,” he managed. “I’d just hoped to look out over the gardens. I know this balcony has the… best view.” His eyes tracked behind Erebus, where the winter-afflicted gardens stood, obviously not at their greatest but still a beautiful enough sight, especially with the chilled breeze in the air. “I suppose that’s what you were doing as well?”
“Was,” Erebus said coldly, rousing and stepping past him and straight back into the hallway, his head tilted up as his annoyed expression stayed, upper lip curled. “Enjoy the view, your Highness.” Again, Jupiter knew he had all the right to chide him for the reaction and treatment, but he just sighed, an apology stuck behind the developing lump in his throat as he ducked his head, taking Erebus’s place on the balcony.
The breeze whistled in the air, lifting strands of hair that rested against his forehead and cooling against his face as he closed his eyes, leaning his weight against the balcony railing and listening to the absent, quiet sounds of the outdoors around him. It only made him feel more and more relaxed, even his worry and dismay about Erebus dimming as he stood and took in nature.
“Should I be worried? I didn’t think getting married to me was that horrid.”
Jupiter’s heart jolted, his eyes flying open as he whirled around only to find Saturn standing in the hallway, his hands clasped tightly together, a smile fixed on his face though his brows were slightly knitted. “I—Saturn!” he exclaimed immediately, hold tightening on the railing. “No! No. Not at all! I was merely looking over the gardens, not—There’s no trouble or need to worry at all, I swear.”
“I know,” Saturn said, smiling before he joined him on the balcony, nudging their shoulders together. “I was just trying to be a bit humorous, you know, make a joke?” He sighed. “Admittedly a bad one. Perhaps I’ve been spending far too much time with Uranus.” Jupiter chuckled under his breath, doing nothing to move away from Saturn’s chill against his side. “But I was… slightly worried. Are you alright?”
His smile faltered. “Just a tough moment. Nothing you need to worry about.”
Saturn hummed in answer. “Are you sure?”
Turning his attention back to the bare gardens below, Jupiter sighed lowly. “I promise.” His issues with Erebus were his own problem, his own long-held mistake. Saturn didn’t need to involve himself. “Just something I’ve been dealing with for a long time, and likely will for… much longer.” If not forever.
“I understand,” Saturn murmured, nudging their shoulders together a second time. “Did you want to be alone?”
It took a second of hesitation and a sidelong glance to Saturn, but the moment he registered his tiny, genuine smile and the understanding in his eyes Jupiter shook his head. “Not at all. You’re completely fine, Saturn.” He paused. “I do enjoy your company.” Glad for the statement when Saturn rewarded him with an even brighter smile, leaning in just slightly closer to him, Jupiter pressed his lips together.
“And I enjoy your company just as much,” he said cheerily. “Have you read anything interesting recently?”
Jupiter took the change in subject for the chance it was, launching into an explanation of the book he’d finished most recently, unable to help the happy twist in his gut when he registered that as always, Saturn was clearly listening to him. Actually listening to him. Not the half-there attention he’d long been granted (from everyone but Erebus, the thought of which still stung) and stopped asking for.
Actual attention.
It was almost a heady feeling, enough that when he finished his explanation and trailed off, his next question rushed out of him without any sort of thought at all. “Would you like to go somewhere with me next week before dinner? Not far. It’s still on palace grounds, just a quick day trip of sorts. I make it every week.”
Saturn blinked, lips parting. “O-Of course! Where?”
“I’ll keep that a surprise, if you don’t mind?” Jupiter hesitated, studying his expression. “Just meet me down in the garden entrance around mid-day of Friday next week.”
But Saturn didn’t seem troubled by that at all, lips curving into another familiar, bright smile. “I love surprises.” He laughed, pressing one hand over his mouth, showing off the familiar golden polish on his nails. “And you really don’t seem the type I need to worry about leading me astray or making me do something I don’t like, yes?”
He couldn’t help a rush of blood to his cheeks. “I—I would hope not, no.”
Saturn opened his mouth to reply and then paused, expression dropping into something startled. “Oh, I think I actually need to go,” he said, lifting a hand and grasping at his shoulder, a cold touch every sense of his dialed into. “I hate to leave so abruptly, but I was on my way to a meeting before I saw you, and I’ve somehow forgot about it entirely.” He took several steps back. “Glad to speak to you, Jupiter. I’ll see you when I see you?”
The phrase pulled a smile from him. “If there’s any trouble with being late to your meeting, just tell me. I’ll smooth things over.” Flashing him an even brighter smile in response, Saturn slipped away with a muffled curse, hurrying down the hallway with the loud click of his heels against the floor slowly fading the further he retreated.
Jupiter couldn’t have smothered his smile with all of the strength in the world.
“Jupiter!”
Saturn called out towards him, raising one hand as he did, his rings glinting golden in the sunlight. He dipped his head in greeting, stepping carefully along the path carved in the grass as he approached him.
“I see you made it,” Jupiter said, meeting him with a now-easy smile tugging at his lips. “Apologies for my tardiness. I had a meeting with Sol that ran long.” He’d been glad he’d had this to look forward to after—he needed something to cheer him up after speaking with Sol. It rarely ended well, these days. Not that it ended in yelling or an explosion of emotion, just… Jupiter rarely felt any sort of positivity after one.
Saturn’s bright smile made it much easier to drag his happiness up. “Oh, no worries,” he said, striding forward and looping their arms together. “I was just enjoying this breeze. Isn’t it such a nice day?”
“A lovely one,” he agreed, casting a glance at the blue sky, the fluffy clouds gently floating along far above. It would almost seem like a perfect summer day if not for the bare trees all around them, remnants of the winter season drawing to a close. “Perfect for the short trip we’ll be taking.”
“Are you going to tell me where now? Or is it meant to be a surprise until we get there?”
Jupiter started walking, a bolt of surprise catching him at how quickly Saturn fell into step, keeping their arms looped together, their shoulders brushing. “I’ll tell you on the way there. Has your day been well?”
“Amazing as always,” Saturn said cheerily. “I was a little worried about the reception when I first learned I’d be sent here, but everyone’s been so nice. Especially you.” Jupiter flushed as his arm looped tighter with his. “You’ve made it so much easier, and I really do count myself glad to have you as a friend.”
Jupiter ducked his head. “It is meant to be your home,” he said. “I’d hope you feel safe and happy here. And I count myself glad to have you as a friend just the same.”
Clearly studying him for several seconds, Saturn squeezed his arm. “It’s not home quite yet, but I can tell that it will be with enough time. Thank you, Jupiter.” He turned his attention to the path around them just to ignore the flare of heat in his cheeks, though he was sure Saturn could see it clear as day.
He wished his emotions wouldn’t show through so obviously.
“We’re heading to the orphanage on the palace grounds,” he finally explained, tipping his head forward to the path stretching before them. “It’s about a thirty minute jaunt from the palace.”
Saturn blinked. “You have an orphanage on the palace grounds? That’s interesting.”
“It’s there for a reason,” he admitted. “It’s complicated, but I promise I’ll explain it as soon as possible.” When Saturn’s brow knitted, he pressed his lips together. “It’s just something close to my heart. I’m sure it’s also written into the marriage contract, so you deserve to know, but… not right now. I’m sorry.”
His discontent must have shown through on his face, because Saturn nodded after a moment, still clearly concerned but letting it go. “Alright. I can wait.” They traveled on for some time with idle chatter about any manner of things, but before long they were nearing the portion of the forest he knew was closest to the orphanage.
Jupiter glanced backwards at the guards following a short distance behind them, arching an eyebrow when he saw the one he’d most frequently seen with Saturn chattering happily with the guard right next to him, gesturing widely with his hands. “Neptune’s much more than he looks,” Saturn abruptly said, stealing his attention back. He’d gained a smile when Jupiter jerked his head to stare at him, momentarily stumbling at the sudden words. “He’s been my assigned guard since I was much younger, and he’s…” He tipped his head to the side. “A bit eccentric, but he’s very smart. And kind. And strong. He’s a rarity, a genuinely good person.”
“I’m—” Jupiter’s brow knit. “I’m sorry, I wasn’t thinking he wasn’t?”
Saturn sighed. “I just saw you looking at him, and… well, I’ve had to fight back against plenty trying to remove him from his position just because of his personality and how he prefers to look at things. I’m a bit protective, I have to admit.”
They were getting closer to the orphanage—Jupiter knew it was just around the corner—so he dipped his head.
“That’s your right. I’d never demand anything else.”
Saturn hummed, laughing. “You really are too sweet for your own good, Jupiter. A rarity just like Neptune.” He paused. “Did you have an assigned guard of your own? I’ve never seen you with one, just a general detail of guards in the palace.”
His heart ached.
“Once,” he admitted, eyes falling on the cottage far ahead. “But not anymore.” When Saturn opened his mouth—likely to ask what he meant, or what had happened—Jupiter instead pulled his arm away, motioning towards the cottage. “There’s the orphanage,” he said quickly, not giving Saturn a chance to question him.
“…Alright,” Saturn said, wearing a tiny frown. “What are we doing here?”
“I just need to check up on them.” Jupiter clasped his hands behind his back and started forward. “Nothing too time-consuming, I promise.” He lifted his hand and rapped five times on the door, following a pattern engraved in his mind. Less than a minute later, the door flung only to reveal Theia’s smile.
“Jupiter! You’re a little later than usual today,” she said cheerfully, motioning him in with a single jerk of her head, the sound of happy shrieks spilling from the cottage behind her. “Come on in!”
He cleared his throat. “I have a guest today, actually.”
“A guest…?” Theia trailed off, gaze falling behind him. “Oh, hello, your Highness,” she greeted, dipping her head in a short bow. “Prince Saturn, correct? It’s nice to meet you!”
“No need for the titles, Theia,” he interrupted. “You know you don’t need to worry about them.”
“I’m being polite,” she said, giving him a sidelong glance. “Let me be polite, Jupiter.”
Saturn laughed. “Jupiter’s right… Theia, was it? No need to worry about titles.”
“Alright, alright. Saturn, then.” She waved them inside a second time. “Come on in, please.” Jupiter stepped inside, but before Saturn followed him he turned to Theia, clasping his hands together.
“Could one of my guards come inside with us? I know he’d enjoy the chance.”
Theia blinked owlishly. “I—yeah, that’s perfectly fine. Feel free?”
Saturn lit up, turning around and motioning towards the guards. “Neptune! Follow us in, would you?”
Neptune’s head jerked up before he waved rapidly, bounding towards them quickly as Saturn stepped in through the doorway, already completely focused on the interior around them. Once Neptune was inside—flashing him a beaming smile that Jupiter hesitantly mirrored with a smaller one of his own—Theia closed the door behind them, locking it with a loud click. “Proto’s had to leave to pick up some food from the market, so it’s just me with them this morning,” she said, motioning towards the collection of children playing with several toys in the corner of the room, several of which looked up and greeted them with happy waves. Jupiter sent a more restrained one of his own back, pausing when a familiar orange-haired toddler clambered to his feet and stumbled towards them.
“Hey, Mars,” Theia greeted cheerfully, ruffling his hair. Mars just stuck his thumb in his mouth and stared up at them silently, eyes wide and unblinking. “Tired of playing?” He just mumbled several unintelligible words—if they were words, actually—around his thumb, leaning against Theia’s leg. She laughed and ruffled his hair a second time before focusing on them. “I thought you’d be by soon enough, so I prepared the list of things we’ll need already, Jupiter. I left it on the desk over there, so feel free to take it with you.”
He turned around and immediately spotted the list, stepping over to pick it up.
Reading it over, he nodded and folded it up, carefully pushing it into his waistcoat pocket.
“Appreciated, Theia. I’ll make sure this is all handled and delivered to you, or fixed if needed.” Neptune handed something over to Saturn and then wandered over to the children and leaned over, asking one of them what they were playing, and to Jupiter’s surprise they immediately responded, dragging him into whatever game it was within the span of several seconds. Saturn didn’t seem surprised, smiling wide behind one hand pressed to his mouth as he slipped whatever Neptune had handed him into his pocket, what looked like a small blue cylinder. Jupiter shook his head and refocused on Theia. “What about you and Proto? You’re not in need of anything else?”
Her smile grew wider. “Actually,” she said, one hand still tucked against the top of Mars’s head, “I had news I wanted to share with you. Pretty important news.” Her eyes shone as she brightened with clear joy, her opposite hand rising to press up against her stomach over the sweater she wore. “I’m pregnant! A few months along.”
Jupiter blinked several times. “You are?” And then he registered his tone of voice and her smile flickering and hurried to add, “Congratulations, Theia. Really. I’m happy for you.”
“Thank you,” she said, ducking her head, finally bending down to pick up Mars, who melted into her as she sat him against her hip, still staring with wide eyes. “It was a bit of surprise for Proto and I, but… not really an unwelcome one, you know? And you take what life gives you.” She pressed her opposite hand back against her stomach. “And the palace doctor recently told me that it might actually be twins.”
The genuine happiness in her voice pulled a smile from him.
At his side, Saturn clasped his hands together in front of his chest, beaming bright. “Congratulations! That’s so exciting!” He tipped his head to the side. “So you take care of the orphanage?”
Theia nodded. “Thank you! Proto and I take care of everything here together right now. We’ve usually got other help, but our staff has been drained these past few weeks thanks to some untimely events. I’d be worried, but I know Jupiter will help us get more. He’s—” She glanced at him, flashing him a smile that he reflexively mirrored. “—pretty great about making sure we have everything we need. He visits every week just to check on us.”
“He—You do?”
Saturn turned his head and glanced at him, the look in his eyes something unreadable but positive enough judging by his growing smile. Jupiter just coughed awkwardly, patting one hand against the note tucked in his pocket. “I try my best,” he said. “And it’s nothing undeserved.”
“It’s too nice, is what it is,” Theia said, pointing a finger at him. “He’s even gotten us unlimited access into the palace. I usually make a trip to visit the library there whenever I can. There’s so much there!” Her eyes brightened, reminding him exactly why he’d negotiated that exact thing from Sol. “I’ve learned so much more than I thought I could.” And then her face abruptly paled, and Jupiter startled as she shoved Mars into his arms. “I-I’ll be right back,” she said, sounding pained before she ran straight down the hallway, ducking into the room he knew was the bathroom.
Ah. He had a feeling he knew why she’d run.
Mars stared up at him silently as he readjusted his hold, fixing it so that he wasn’t hovering in the air, instead sitting against his arm, leaned up against his side. “Have you had lunch already, Mars?” he asked, waiting until he nodded, dropping his head against his shoulder. “What did you have?”
He pulled his thumb out of his mouth, mumbling a quiet, “Cheese.”
Jupiter blinked. “Just cheese?”
Mars nodded at him before burying his face in his shoulder, and Jupiter just awkwardly pat the back of his head, careful not to let him drop even as he turned to Saturn, who was staring at him with his hands clasped tight together, his eyes crinkled in the corners. “So cute,” he mouthed.
Jupiter flushed, clearing his throat.
“Theia grew up here,” he said, motioning with the hand not holding Mars to the rest of the building, careful not to jostle him too much. “And she decided to stay behind and take over care of it when the last caretaker retired. Her husband helps out with a bunch.” An amused smile tugged at his lips. “Funnily enough, he grew up here as well. They fought like cats and dogs when they were growing up, but they make a good match.”
“Cats and dogs? Should I be happy about that comparison?”
He turned to Theia as she slipped back into the room, immediately reaching out for Mars, who grabbed onto him for several seconds before letting go and instead wiggling to the ground, running back over to the join the rest of the kids, who were currently embroiled in some sort of game with Neptune, as far as he could tell? At least it was distracting them. Normally he had to deal with the children constantly interrupting him or Theia or Proto to play whenever he visited, which… wasn’t horrible, but certainly not fun for long periods of time. “Ah—it is true,” he said, lips twitching into a tiny smile. “You two fought all the time, didn’t you? Started off on the wrong foot.”
Theia playfully sighed. “I guess you’re right. But it ended well, didn’t it?” She put one hand on her abdomen before laughing and gesturing towards them. “Anyway! I should get some of these guys ready for their nap, or I’ll have a hell of a time later. Thanks for coming by like usual, Jupiter. Proto should be here to say hi to next week.”
“I’ll get this all handled for you,” he promised, tapping his hand against his chest, the list in his waistcoat pocket. “Have a good rest of your day, Theia. And congratulations, again.” He glanced at Saturn, who echoed him and then called out for Neptune, who immediately popped up to his feet, patting several of the children’s heads before he slipped over to them.
“Are we leaving?” he asked cheerfully.
“We are,” Saturn said, handing over a small cylinder to him. “Thank you, Neptune.”
He just tipped his head to the side, eyes closing in a bright smile. “That was fun!”
Theia unlocked and opened the door for them with a farewell of her own as Jupiter waved a quick goodbye to the children still gathered all together, lingering for a second on Mars, who was sitting next to another child with orange hair—though unlike Mars, his was streaked with bright yellow in several spots—who wore a childishly-annoyed pout. An amused smile tugged at his lips.
“So you visit here every week?” Saturn asked him as they stepped outside and the door closed behind them, eyes shining bright with something he couldn’t quite read. “That’s so sweet of you, Jupiter.”
“It’s… for an important reason,” he said, settling for that over explaining everything that had led to his assuming responsibility for the upkeep of the orphanage, the guilt that torn through him every time he remembered. “And Theia and Proto do great work here with the children. They deserve the help.”
“Well,” Saturn said, nudging their shoulders together and linking their arms a second time, “it’s still sweet of you.” He paused, lips pursing for a second. “Could I possibly visit with you another time?”
Jupiter blinked, surprised. “You’d like to?”
“Of course!” He nodded rapidly, splaying one hand across his chest with his lips pressed into a small smile. “We’re going to be married. I want to help you with your responsibilities.” Saturn hesitated, brows knitting slightly. “But you can say no. I’ll understand.”
Still, Jupiter could tell he wanted him to say yes just by the look in his eyes.
“Well, why don’t you come with me every other week?” he offered. “I can meet you in the garden the same time every other Friday and you can walk over with me.” That would give him at least some weeks to visit alone, but other weeks with Saturn, because… Jupiter would freely admit he enjoyed the time he spent with Saturn. He’d never regretted it yet.
“It’s a date,” Saturn agreed, eyes crinkling in the corners. “Thank you, Jupi!”
“You’re—ah, no problem,” he said, stumbling over his words at the sudden fond nickname, flushed in the cheeks. He searched for any sort of distraction and landed on the blue cylinder Neptune was still turning over in his hands where he stood a few feet ahead of them. “Can I ask what that is? I noticed you handed it to Saturn.”
Neptune whirled around, tossing it up and down wildly.
“It’s my trident,” he announced cheerfully, presenting it flat on his palm.
Jupiter squinted at the tiny cylinder, trying to ascertain what Neptune meant by that. “It… is?”
He tapped it against his wrist, still beaming bright, and a moment later the cylinder… exploded, or expanded, so quickly it felt like Jupiter blinked and suddenly he was holding a trident, a bright blue that matched the color of his hair and glittered silver at the prongs. “Isn’t it amazing?” he said, giggling as he swung it, clearly more than proficient. “Saturn got it for my birthday one year!”
Saturn tugged their linked arms until he glanced at him.
“It’s a magical object,” he said, “It’s specifically tuned towards Neptune and anyone he chooses, so it doesn’t react to anyone but those people! It’s quite a useful weapon.”
Jupiter stared at the trident for several more seconds before realizing that they were still standing in front of the cottage, quiet happy shrieks still barely audible behind the closed door. “Actually, I think we should probably get moving,” he said, “but that is quite the weapon.” He tipped his head towards it, noticing glowing letters shining on the shaft. “And a fascinating one, as well.”
Tapping it against his wrist a second time, Neptune nodded rapidly even as it disappeared, condensing back into the tiny cylinder he slipped into a sheath at his side. “It’s my favorite thing ever,” he said, turning to Saturn and chirping, “Thank you, Saturn!”
Saturn pressed a hand against his mouth, visibly smiling.
“You say that every time, Neptune. There’s no need. I was happy to gift it.”
Neptune just hummed a cheerful tune and stepped behind them as they fell in step, joining the guards who’d already stepped forward and fallen in line where they’d been previously. “That truly is interesting,” Jupiter said, glancing sidelong at Saturn. “And I didn’t know he fought with a trident.”
“It’s an unconventional weapon, I know,” Saturn said, lifting one shoulder in a half-shrug. “That was part of the protest to him being my guard, but…” He arched his brows. “Neptune’s quite the master with it. I think he’d easily manage to use it in battle against any other weapons, even if it doesn’t seem like it.” Jupiter glanced back at Neptune, who was skipping cheerfully alongside the other—much more serious and stern-looking—guards, fighting back a smile at the sight.
“Well, they do say that looks can be deceiving, don’t they?”
Saturn laughed. “They can be.”
They traveled for several more minutes in silence before Saturn abruptly spoke up in a whisper that told Jupiter he was purposefully trying to be quiet. “Jupiter, I… you said there was an important reason you were visiting, right? Can I ask why? Or is that too personal?”
“It’—” His heart ached as he turned his focus to the trees around them, the dead limbs that would soon enough be laden with newly-growing leaves in the spring season. “It’s hard to explain. Or… not explain, but for me to word. And it… I’m sorry, Saturn. Not yet.”
Squeezing his arm—and him—closer to his side, Saturn hummed a low, comforting tune. “Oh, please don’t worry. It just seems to weigh heavy on you, and I—we’re supposed to be a team after this, aren’t we? I like to think we’ve become friends. You already mean a lot to me, so… I just want to help you. However I can.” Even without looking at him Jupiter thought he knew the expression Saturn wore, the earnest tone of his voice very welcome.
You already mean a lot to me.
The words made him feel horribly warm.
And Jupiter knew he felt the same way.
If not… more.
“We are friends,” he said, keeping the words firm and steady, “and when I feel ready…” He turned to glance at Saturn, pouring all of his emotion into his gaze. “I’ll tell you the whole story. I swear.”
It would probably feel nice to let it all off his back, regardless.
His reward was a tiny, achingly genuine smile from Saturn as he squeezed even closer, nearly tripping them both from how close they were walking. “That’s all I want, Jupi,” he said, still whispering but leaning in enough to see the barely-visible freckles dotted over the bridge of his nose. Jupiter flushed at the repeated nickname, wanting to look away but unable to as Saturn paused with his lips parted, blinking several times at him, golden eyelashes brushing against his cheekbones. “Oh… I should probably ask. Can I call you that? It’s just a fun nickname! I thought you deserved one.”
“I don’t mind,” he murmured, finally turning his head and focusing on the path rather than Saturn as his heart yearned to. “Feel free to call me whatever you’d like, Saturn.” He didn’t want to acknowledge what the plucking at his heart meant—nor the feelings quickly descending on it and in his thoughts, drowning out even the ache of guilt he hadn’t lost for years.
Stars, he hadn’t thought that this was a possibility. Then again, he hadn’t even really had the chance to think about this whole thing before Saturn had arrived, considering Sol had sprung it on him the afternoon before. What a situation to be in.
As Saturn laughed, low and happy, following it up with a quiet, “Thank you, Jupi,” he forced himself to ignore the clench in his heart, instead managing a twitching smile.
Perhaps this arranged marriage was the best thing that’d ever happened to him.
Perhaps it was more than he would ever deserve, and he would be a fool to let himself want.
Perhaps. Perhaps. Perhaps.
It took him longer than he expected to find Saturn.
He’d just finished a rather… tiring meeting with Sol, during which he’d been giving a reminder of just how little power he truly held in the kingdom at this point, that Sol was and would remain the sovereign for some time now, that he was nothing but the heir he’d been forced to choose, that—
Well, it was safe to say Jupiter felt tired. Very tired.
But to his surprise, his first thought when he’d managed to get free from the meeting hadn’t been to retreat to his bedroom and or the library for some time alone, but rather to find Saturn. He wasn’t sure how he felt about it, but he wasn’t going to fight the thought, either. A visit to the room he’d been given as a study revealed it was completely empty, though decorated in a way that spoke of him and made Jupiter’s lips twitch into a tiny smile. The guard standing in the hallway his bedroom was in told him Saturn hadn’t been there since he’d left for the day, so he’d discarded the idea he’d be in it.
His only breakthrough had been when another told him he’d likely be with Uranus, which left him where he was now—approaching the second floor room that had apparently been negotiated as a personal hobby room for Uranus, a matter Jupiter had originally regarded as almost exceedingly considerate for Saturn to do, but which still left him confused as to why Uranus had needed a room.
A confusion that was amended the moment he stepped into the room only to find it covered in painting paraphernalia, with Saturn and Uranus standing side-by-side in front of an easel in the far corner of the room, a paintbrush clutched in Uranus’s hand as he gestured at the painting on it.
Ah. So that was why Saturn had negotiated a room for him.
Speaking of Saturn, he could hear his voice when he stepped in through the propped-open door, apparently mid-sentence. “—you’ve already painted so much of him, Uranus.” He laughed, high and joyful, gesturing to the canvas in front of them, the subject of which Jupiter couldn’t see as obscured behind them as it was, and he couldn’t help a smile at the sound. “Should I be expecting news of a relationship sometime soon? How lovely.”
“What the— Saturn, no!” Uranus exclaimed, visibly flushing bright red as he shoved an elbow into Saturn’s side, a move he pouted at. Jupiter couldn’t help a tinge of surprise at the candid treatment. “Shut up, mate. He’s just a good painting subject!”
“Ah, I see. Just a good painting subject,” Saturn echoed, sounding amused. “How—?”
Smile tugging at his lips, Jupiter cleared his throat.
“Saturn?”
Uranus shrieked and turned around, brandishing his paintbrush at him, and Saturn mirrored him, slipping halfway behind him with his hands on his shoulders, peering above his head with a startled look that melted into something like a smile when he seemingly registered it was him.
“My… apologies,” Jupiter said quietly, holding back horribly amused laughter as he pressed his lips together. “I didn’t mean to startle you. I was just hoping to speak to you, Saturn.”
“Bloody hell, mate,” Uranus complained, dropping the paintbrush to his side. “You could be a little less out-of-nowhere, yeah?” He turned with an incredulous expression to Saturn. “And why are you hiding behind me? You’re the one with the stupid battle training! When Neptune’s not here, you’re supposed to be able to defend yourself! Not hide!”
“It was instinct,” Saturn protested, pouting and crossing his arms over his chest. “Doesn’t that mean I trust you? You should be happy!”
Uranus arched an eyebrow.
“Yeah,” he said dryly, “I’m so happy you’d sacrifice me first.”
He then proceeded to very exaggeratedly roll his eyes, turning back to the canvas and dropping his paintbrush into a cup on a stool beside it. Jupiter barely managed to catch a glimpse of something dark blue painted onto the canvas before he pulled it off the easel.
Sighing dramatically, Saturn turned and stepped towards him, a smile slowly curving at his lips.
“Jupi,” he greeted, “you wanted to speak to me?”
“Oh… yes,” he said, startled when Saturn stopped much closer than he expected, close enough that he had to tilt his head back just a tad so their eyes could meet, something he didn’t seem to mind at all. “But if you’re already hanging out with Uranus, I can wait. It’s nothing important.”
“Nonsense,” Saturn said, turning and linking their arms together, nudging in against his side as he’d started to do every time now. “I’m sure Uranus won’t mind if I end our get-together a little early.”
“Nope,” Uranus said grumpily, “You can leave, Saturn. I have things to do.”
“Like painting your new favorite subject?”
Uranus turned around, under-eye twitching. “Get out, mate. Please.”
Saturn just laughed joyfully, tugging and leading him out of the room with a sunny smile. “Enjoy the rest of your day, Uranus! I’ll see you later.” He turned his attention to him the moment the door closed behind him. “What did you want to speak about, Jupi? Is something happening?”
“No,” Jupiter said, not sure how to admit he’d just wanted to distract himself, “I just had a tough meeting with Sol. I’d hoped…”
“You searched me out to comfort you?” Saturn blinked at him, eyes going watery suspiciously fast. “I’m already that much of a friend to you?”
…Yes. A friend.
Instead of answering Saturn’s question or paying more attention to his watery eyes, Jupiter reached for another distraction. “Uranus is rather… informal with you. Candid,” he said slowly, not wanting to say anything wrong. “I know you’ve said you were friends, but how close?”
He’d never had any friendships closer than the one he’d shared with Erebus, and that one—
Thinking of it, of him, hurt. And he knew it was all his fault.
Saturn pressed his lips together as his eyes cleared, obviously amused. “Don’t worry, Jupi. There’s no threat to our arranged marriage. I’ve never held any sort of romantic feelings for Uranus, and as far as I’m aware neither has he for me.” He leaned in, adopting a conspiratorial tone. “Besides, I think he has his eyes on someone at the moment. Based on all of his recent paintings.”
Jupiter blinked several times, his cheeks flushing warm.
“I meant… ah, I just…” He cleared his throat, feeling an odd deja vu. “That’s good to hear, I suppose? But I meant if you’d been childhood friends. I was curious.”
Though he couldn’t help but feel a tiny relief wrap around his heart.
Saturn’s mouth formed a perfect ‘o’.
“Oh,” he said, tan skin gaining a pink tinge. “Well, yes. Something like that. Not quite childhood, but Neptune’s family adopted him after his parents passed away, and when Neptune started his training to become my appointed guard, we became good friends thanks to him dragging Uranus along to all of the training. He’s good company and fun to talk to, even if he doesn’t seem to think so.”
“His accent is rather unique,” he said, allowing them to move on from Saturn’s assumption that he was worried he was… romantically involved with Uranus. “Why don’t you or Neptune share it?”
Saturn blinked, tipping his head to the side as a swath of blonde hair fell over his shoulder, catching a beam of sunlight to glow. “Honestly, I’m not sure. As long as I’ve known him he’s talked that way. I’ve always just attributed as a peculiarity of his, or something from his parents. It’s not like it’s horrible, yes? I’ve always enjoyed learning his turns of phrase.”
“No,” Jupiter admitted truthfully. “Just unique.”
“Well, Uranus is a rather unique individual,” Saturn said, eyes crinkling. “I think it fits him.” He clicked his tongue. “You said you had a tough meeting, right? Why don’t we go peruse the library together? I know being in there always seems to relax you.” His golden gaze bore into him with every question, overwhelming Jupiter for a spare second before he slowly relaxed, unable to help a smile at how quickly Saturn was attempting to soothe his discontent. “Or we could—”
“The library is a fine choice,” he interrupted, nudging his shoulder against Saturn’s. “In fact, I spotted a book the other day that I thought you’d enjoy.”
“You did? Does that mean you’re thinking of me casually, Jupi? How sweet,” Saturn teased, his eyes crinkling in the corners. His cheeks burnt with warmth again, but mercifully enough Saturn chose that moment to start striding off in the direction of the library, tugging him along with. “I’d love to check out this book that made you think of me. I’m sure it’ll be perfect.”
Jupiter could almost feel his earlier discontent melting away, and he already knew he’d made the correct choice in searching out Saturn. “Saturn,” he said quietly, waiting until he looked back and their eyes met, gold against his own electric blue. “Thank you. For… thank you.”
A tiny smile flourished on Saturn’s face, brightening his visage handsomely. “Anytime, Jupiter.”
Jupiter was starting to feel oddly, overwhelmingly grateful for Sol’s decision to surprise him with this arranged marriage.
He never thought he’d feel that way.
Jupiter stared at the far-greener trees all around them, swallowing once from pure nerve before he turned to Saturn, eyes falling on his clearly-relaxed frame, his arm linked tight with his as they made the return trip to the palace. This was the third trip he’d taken Saturn on to visit the orphanage, and each time he hadn’t regretted it once. He… Jupiter couldn’t fight the urge to explain to him at least part of it, not anymore. “Saturn?” he murmured, quiet enough that he was almost surprised when Saturn actually turned his head, leveling him with a tiny smile.
“Yes, Jupi?”
“I—I lived in the orphanage.” His voice stumbled once, and he caught the subtle widen of Saturn’s eyes—probably at his abrupt, out-of-nowhere reveal—before he leaned in close, shoulder nudging comfortingly against his. He was obviously reining in his reaction. “I grew up there.”
He gained a tiny frown. “I thought you were the prince?”
“I am.” Jupiter sighed. “It’s not publicly well-known or disclosed, but every first heir for quite some time has been adopted. They have to be. It’s part of the… I’m not sure. It wasn’t well-explained to me at the time, but as far as I’m aware, that’s how it’s been for generations. The orphanage is on palace grounds because they need to have options for the royal family. I was adopted from it.”
He’d been… well, it was a bit of an understatement to say upset when he’d first learned that.
Jupiter had always wondered why it wasn’t closer to the capital rather than the palace, and the actual truth had never been something he would have considered.
Saturn blinked owlishly, clearly taken aback at the revelation. “That’s… I suppose that makes sense why you entered public society for the first time quite so late. I remember hearing curiosity about you from the courtiers when I was younger.” His mouth ticked up in one corner. “Though at the time I had no idea how important you’d be to me in the future.”
Important.
It felt like a little thrill to his heart to hear that even as Jupiter reminded himself that he was likely speaking of the contract more than anything else. He had plenty of other people in his life who were just as important—Uranus and Neptune, namely—if not more than him.
“It’s… yes,” he said, forcing his thoughts back on track, away from the feelings that constantly lurked at the edge of his consciousness. “Though even that was a bit of an issue. Sol didn’t have any interest in marrying or picking an heir, so he—the court forced him to pick, and he picked me.”
“Because you were perfect for it?” Saturn teased.
“No,” he said, unable to muster up any amusement, his eyes pricking slightly in a way he ignored. “Because he wanted to spite them. I wasn’t even part of the consideration. I was too old at ten.”
Saturn’s teasing expression melted into concern, his arm squeezing against his. “Jupiter…?”
“And I wasn’t happy with being chosen, either.” He looked away even as Saturn hummed comfortingly, leaning against his shoulder, so close he could feel his cloak brushing up against his shin. “I wasn’t—I was a bad example of a prince for several years before I learned my lesson.”
It wasn’t like he’d acted out totally. He’d mostly conformed, because what other choice did he have? But never completely. And he’d—
He’d made his mistakes.
“Oh, Jupi, that’s…” Saturn gave a mournful sound, unlinking their arms just to comfortingly squeeze his shoulder, hand lingering as he tuned into the contact. “You were torn from the life you knew and given a totally new one. Anyone would have acted out.”
Jupiter sighed. “No, I should have been grateful, not throwing a wild, unneeded fit,” he said, echoing words the courtiers had drilled into him from the moment he’d been shoved into his role. “It wasn’t like there aren’t plenty of advantages that come with being the prince. The heir. And what did I have to look forward to as I was before? An orphan without anything but perhaps my wits?”
The words burned even as he said them, but Saturn’s voice distracted him.
“Advantages, yes, but plenty of disadvantages, too.” He held back a startled sound as Saturn abruptly stopped, forcing him to stop as well before a cold hand against his cheek turned his head—gently enough that he could have easily resisted—until he was looking at him. “I was raised from birth to know what this life entails,” he said, firmly, blazing eyes searching his, “and if I was shoved into it when I was ten, I would have acted out as well. I hope you’re not placing undue blame on yourself for something anyone would have done.”
“I—” His voice trailed off. “Al-Alright, Saturn. I suppose you’re right.”
Saturn pressed his lips together in a restrained smile. “Of course I am.” He pulled them straight back into a slow walking speed as Jupiter stared at the ground before them, his heart twisting as Saturn’s words ran wild through his mind. “Is that why you visit the orphanage? Because you grew up there?”
His mouth went dry. “No.”
But he didn’t explain any further, and though he felt the prickle of Saturn’s gaze on him, he didn’t ask any further. “But I have to say,” he added a moment later, wetting his lips nervously, “that I’m sure this arranged marriage is just another consequence of my actions before. And perhaps because of Sol’s original distaste for it. The court had to ensure that wouldn’t happen again. I’m—”
He startled as a cold hand brushed against his, Saturn’s fingers lacing tight with his own limp ones before he reacted, reflexively squeezing back as he felt the bite of his many rings.
“Jupi,” he said, quiet and warning, “don’t you dare apologize.”
His words overtook his trepidation. “But you’ve been forced to leave your home. To marry someone you didn’t even know four months ago. Because of something that isn’t even—”
“I’m the spare.” Saturn sighed. “I would have been married off regardless.”
Jupiter took in the palace rising before them, surprised at how quickly the time had passed.
“Still,” he said, quietly, “I’m sorry, Saturn.”
“Don’t be.” Saturn drew to a stop a second time, but this time rather than turn to him he turned around. “Neptune, guards, can you please go on ahead? I think we’ll be safe enough near as we are to the palace gardens.” As Jupiter watched, all of them but Neptune nodded and marched on to resume wherever their shifts placed them; Neptune lingered for several moments, staring at Saturn with a cocked head before he wordlessly arched one brow, gesturing for him to leave again.
“O-kay,” he said, drawing the word out long. “If you’re sure, Saturn.”
“Very sure.” Saturn followed Neptune until he’d slipped past one of the trees that stood at the palace garden entrance—and then turned to him, immediately reaching for his opposite hand and holding both of them within his own as Jupiter’s mouth went dry and he blinked rapidly. “Jupiter?”
“…Yes?”
“Don’t be sorry.” Saturn tipped his head down, staring up at him through lowered lashes. “Perhaps I wasn’t thrilled to be told about this arranged marriage, even less so to hear about it only a week before I was meeting you, but—” He stepped forward, lips curving up into a nervous smile. “—I think I’m happy about it, now. I’m glad it was you over anyone else, here over anywhere else. I consider you a great friend, and…” He trailed off, closing his eyes and sighing. “I hope you know that you’ve more than settled into your role as prince, and you’re a great man. You deserve it, and no matter what I’m happy to be here, and happier to be able to stand at your side in whatever capacity it may be.” His nervous smile grew at those last words.
Jupiter stared at him, a lump in his throat as his eyes pricked with a familiar sensation.
“Saturn,” he tried, words failing him—and instead of reaching for more, he just leaned forward, freeing his hands from Saturn’s grip only to wrap his arms around him, cheek notched against the side of his head as he stared into the trees beyond and forced himself not to cry. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome, Jupi,” he said, speaking directly into his ear, breath warm against him as he restrained an automatic shudder at the feeling—that and Saturn’s arms wrapping around him, squeezing so tightly he could have wheezed. “I meant every word.” Jupiter practically melted into the hold, not even sure the last time he’d had something like this. But he found it hard to ignore the rising weight in his chest, the lump in his throat he couldn’t just blame Saturn’s comforting words on.
Because he hadn’t told him the entire story, hadn’t revealed the worst of it.
What had happened because of his actions. Who he’d failed.
He couldn’t.
Not yet, at least.
“Oh, and Jupiter… does that mean we’ll have to adopt after we get married?”
Jupiter choked on his own breath so badly he coughed for a minute straight as Saturn stared at him in amused concern, one hand over his mouth in a failed attempt to hide his smile.
“Didn’t King Sol ground you to your room for the week?”
Jupiter groaned under his breath, staring at the page for several more seconds before he glanced up to find Erebus smirking at him, leaning up against the bookshelf farther down from where he’d wedged himself into a corner. “What does that matter?” he muttered. “He’s not my father.”
He’d never had one in the first place. At least not one to raise him.
“Technically, he is,” Erebus reminded him, shrugging one shoulder. “He adopted you.”
“What does that matter?” Jupiter repeated, narrowing his eyes. “He didn’t want to in the first place. If he had it his way, I’d still be in the orphanage. I wish I was.”
“Damn,” Erebus said, sighing dramatically. “You’re right. Having all the comforts and opportunities you could want sucks.” He rolled his eyes. “It’s been two years, Prince. You need to learn to live with it. The sooner you do, the sooner it gets so much easier. You can see that, right?”
He knew Erebus was right. It made sense.
But the thought made righteous anger rise in his chest, and so he snapped his book shut, sliding it onto the shelf where he’d freed it before he crossed his arms over his chest. “Leave me alone, Erebus. It’s not like any of them need me. They’re fine with letting me stew until the next time they need to parade me around as the new heir. With this stupid false story.”
“I’m your personal guard,” Erebus said, grinning. “Can’t leave you alone. Sorry.”
He didn’t sound very sorry.
Jupiter rolled his eyes—he still didn’t understand why Erebus was his personal guard when he was younger than him. Something about having someone his age to relate to? It didn’t make it any easier to have him hanging around all the time, even if—
Even if it was nice to have someone to talk to, someone who didn’t treat him like…
Like everyone else did, now.
“Anyway, I just stood in front of a door guarding an empty room for three hours this morning, so I think you owe me. It was so boring.”
“How’d you even realize I snuck out?” Jupiter asked, eyeing him curiously.
Erebus averted his eyes, suddenly pink in the cheeks. “I peeked in. I was going to ask if you needed anything to eat, but then I realized you weren’t even there,” he grumbled. “How the hell did you even get out the window? I mean, at least I knew where I could find you. But still. Rude.”
His nails dug into his arms. “It’s still too big of a room,” he admitted. “I can’t stand it in there.”
He’d been moved into several different, increasingly smaller rooms throughout the past two years, but they were all still too big. It was… Jupiter couldn’t really name why something about the room’s sizes, the sheer emptiness of them made him feel so bad. It just did.
Studying him for a moment, Erebus nodded.
“You hungry?”
Jupiter opened his mouth to instinctively say no, stopped only as his stomach constricted with hunger at the mere idea. “Yes,” he finally admitted, sighing. “I think so.”
Erebus jerked his head towards the door. “Come on. I know a way to sneak into the kitchens, and I know the cooks who’ll be nice enough to make us some food.” He started walking, and… relieved at the fact that he hadn’t offered, but instead just told him to, Jupiter followed, briefly giving him a look that he hoped conveyed the thanks he couldn’t manage saying.
The library was silent as always around him, silent and still as he flipped page after page.
A silence marred only by the quiet thump of a single knock.
Knitting his brow, Jupiter looked up at the closed door before raising his voice in a short, “Come in!” though his confusion melted away into simple joy as it opened and Saturn peeked his head in, peering at him with a tiny smile. “Saturn? I thought you had a meeting.”
“I… did,” he said, almost hesitantly. “It finished a bit early. Can I sit in here with you?”
He sounded off.
Trying to figure out the reason, Jupiter immediately nodded, studying him as he lit up and slipped fully into the room, closing the door behind him before he crept over to the table he was sitting at. “What are you reading, Jupi? Something interesting?”
“It’s about the prior treaties the state has held,” he said, briefly showing Saturn the cover.
He blinked. “Ah. So… not interesting.”
Jupiter’s lips twitched into a smile. “Not quite.” Still, he needed to be up-to-date what with all of the meetings Sol was having him join these days, always going on about his upcoming marriage (which was quickly approaching, something he tried to forget) meaning he needed to assume more responsibility in governance. Jupiter had the tiny thought he’d just grown bored of his own. “How’d your meeting go? Well?” Saturn frowned, shoulders hunching just slightly; and then his hands clasped together as he started twisting one ring back and forth, and Jupiter narrowed his eyes, immediately zeroing in on his expression. “Not so well?”
“It was…” He worried at his bottom lip. “It was about the wedding.”
Jupiter blinked several times. “Oh.” He’d been aware that the wedding preparations had been going on in the background, but… “I wasn’t aware you were part of those meetings.”
“Because I wasn’t originally,” Saturn said, sounding miserable, “but I once I became aware that they were happening, I asked to be included. It is my wedding, after all, yes?” Jupiter nodded when their eyes met. “But I…” Saturn’s eyes watered. “Nobody even listened to me. It’s like what I wanted didn’t matter a shred to them. I didn’t…” He trailed off, head tilting down as he stared at the wooden table they sat at. “I just feel a little dejected about that, Jupi.”
Slowly closing his book, Jupiter straightened up. “You weren’t allowed any input at all?”
Miserably, Saturn offered, “No. None at all.”
His head jerked up a moment later, an obviously false smile plastered onto his face, ruined by his still-watery eyes. “But I’m sure it’ll be fine! What little plans I did see looked plenty lovely, decorations included, even if they weren’t the colors I’d prefer. We’ll certainly have a wonderful day, I think!” Still, even with the false smile and even falser words Jupiter could tell he was still feeling dismayed about his wishes being ignored.
His heart squeezed with indignation, hands curling tight before he pushed to his feet.
“I’ll be right back,” he said, barely keeping back a scowl. “Stay here, Saturn.”
Saturn blinked as he whirled around and headed for the door. “Jupi?!”
“I’ll be right back,” he repeated. He closed the door behind himself before heading straight down the hall, steps hard against the marble beneath him, loud enough that it was nearly all he could hear. Slowing only right before the throne room doors, he exhaled and composed himself, smoothing his expression before he stepped in, eyes immediately finding Sol.
“Sol! I need to speak to you. About something important.”
Sol arched an eyebrow, motioning towards the man standing in front of him. “I’m busy, Jupiter.”
“It’s important,” he repeated, straightening to full height.
The man—probably one of the courtiers based on his style of dress, though not one Jupiter had frequent interactions with—nervously coughed. “I’ll return in a bit, your Majesty. No worries.” He turned and hurried out of the room without another word, leaving him and Sol alone in the massive throne room, the sunlight creeping in through the massive windows, painting the walls golden and reminding him of the liquid gold of Saturn’s eyes.
Of course, being reminded of Saturn just made his indignation return.
Sol opened his mouth, brow knitted in annoyance, but before he could say anything Jupiter spoke up. “Why isn’t Saturn being allowed input into the wedding?” he demanded, keeping his arms loose at his sides despite how much he wanted to cross them. “It’s his wedding, is it not?”
“This is so important you interrupt my meeting?” Sol muttered, one hand adjusting the large golden crown set atop his hair. “What are you talking about, Jupiter?”
“Saturn,” he said, through clenched teeth. “He sat in one of the wedding preparation meetings and was completely ignored, if not apparently outright dismissed. It’s his wedding, and I think he deserves to have whatever input he wants, whether that means a billion flowers or a magical dragon showing up.” Okay, perhaps that was a bit exaggerated. “Why is he being ignored?”
Sol arched an eyebrow. “Is that so? I wasn’t aware.” He set his knuckles against his cheek, elbow propped against the armrest of the throne. “Fine. I’ll speak to the courtiers running the preparations and tell them he’s to be listened to. Anything else?”
Jupiter blinked once, mouth opening and closing several times. “I—ah. No. That was all.”
He hadn’t expected that reaction.
“Then don’t you have something to say?”
He dipped his head. “Thank you, Sol. Your Majesty.”
“That’s what I thought. Now! Run along, Prince Jupiter. I know you have plenty more reading to be doing, don’t you?” Sol’s stare grew more intense, his grin shark-like, and Jupiter just dipped his head in another repeated short bow before whirling around, caught off guard by the entire interaction, drained of indignation and left feeling weirdly empty.
But that emptiness disappeared the moment he stepped through the doorway and was met by Saturn standing in the hallway, lips pressed together in a wavery smile, tears gathered in the corners of his eyes. “Jupiter,” he said, voice shaky. “You just…! You spoke to Sol about it? I thought I’d said something wrong!”
“You couldn’t possibly,” he said, automatically. “I just wanted to help.”
Abruptly, Saturn reached out and grabbed at his wrist with one hand, dragging him straight down the hallway as Jupiter allowed it, doing his best to ignore the flush creeping into his cheeks. He stopped only when they’d turned the corner, near a little statue alcove more shadowy than the rest of the hallway, facing him with his hands clasped together, eyes glittery.
“Thank you, Jupi. Thank you. You didn’t have to do that,” he said, still sounding shaky.
Though it was obviously a happy shake, so Jupiter just dipped his head, helpless to the smile pulling at his lips.
“You deserve it,” he said. “It’s your wedding, after all. I’d like you to enjoy it, to have what you want.” He’d barely thought about it himself, so Saturn could have control of everything, if he wanted. “I’m not selective about it, but if you want specific things, then you deserve them, whatever it is, colors or decor or flowers.”
Saturn’s lips pursed like he was seconds from crying.
“Jupiter…”
And then he jerked forward, and the next thing Jupiter registered was the brief press of lips against his cheek, Saturn’s golden eyes mere inches from his own as he drew back. “I’m so glad it was you, Jupi. Out of every possibility in the world, I know you’re one of the best.” And then he pressed a second kiss to his cheek as Jupiter forgot how to breathe, stepping back with a bright smile. “Now, I have to gather up all of my ideas. I have plenty of them!”
He turned and flounced away, humming happily as Jupiter tried to remember how to breathe.
“Erebus?”
Erebus glanced at him sidelong, one hand toying with the hilt of his rapier. “What?”
“I’m glad it was you. I’m glad you were chosen to be my guard,” he admitted, voice only slightly raspy. “And not some random adult. You’re… thanks.”
Squinting at him, Erebus arched an eyebrow.
“…Okay? Stars above, you make it sound like you’re about to die.”
“No, I just wanted to say it.” Jupiter worried at his bottom lip. “I know I’ve been trouble. For a while. But you’ve been—I think you’re a good friend, Erebus. I think I only managed to settle in as much as I have because you were there with me.” He stared ahead at the cottage they were quickly approaching. “I know I’ve never said it before, but it’s true.”
“Oh.” Erebus was pink in the cheeks when he glanced at him. “Well. Uh. You’re welcome?”
Jupiter just forced a smile, met with one from Erebus that seemed far more genuine than his own; and his heart clenched as he drew to a stop at the door, hesitating with his fist in the air. “I just wanted to talk with a few of them, and then we can head back to the palace and spar a little.”
“Alright,” Erebus said, leaning against the wall. He was still slightly pink in the cheeks, fingers curling and uncurling around his rapier hilt over and over again. “I’ll be out here.”
He knocked on the door, five times one after the other.
I’m sorry, he thought, training his eyes on the door rather than Erebus. I’m sorry.
Theia ripped open the door a second later, beaming at him bright. “Prince Jupiter?! You’re here! I didn’t know you were visiting today.” I wasn’t meant to.
“Just Jupiter,” he reminded her, “you don’t need to worry about titles with me, Theia.”
“But I’m being polite,” she said, blinking wide eyes at him. “Isn’t that polite?”
“Very polite,” he agreed, managing a slightly more genuine smile, “but you don’t need to worry about it with me. We’re friends.” He stepped through the doorway and watched Theia close it behind him. “I can only be here for a little bit, though. What’s everyone doing?”
“The younger kids are all napping in their rooms,” Theia said, pointing down the hallway. “They just finished lunch, so they’re all knocked out and everything, and one of the caretakers is in there with them. And everyone else went to the market for a day trip. It’s just me and…” She scowled, eyes darting to the side. “Proto out here today.”
“Hey! I heard that,” Proto said, piping up from the dining table. “Don’t be mean. And hi, Jupiter!”
“Prince Jupiter,” Theia mumbled.
Jupiter ignored it. “Hello, Proto. What are you two doing?”
“We’re playing cards, because there’s nothing else to do,” she said, pointing towards the cards scattered over the table. “Do you want to play with us? We don’t need to worry about being quiet. Those younger kids sleep through anything.”
Jupiter offered her a newly-forced smile, gut twisting. “Maybe a few rounds. But I need to use the bathroom first. Could you give me a bit, and then I’ll join you and Proto?”
“Okay,” she said, looking at him hesitantly, squinting slightly. It was almost like she knew what he was about to do, though Jupiter knew there was no chance of that. He’d told nobody, and he’d given them no warnings. Except for perhaps his goodbye to Erebus, but— He couldn’t leave without at least that. “It’ll be nice to have someone else playing. Proto keeps cheating.”
“You big liar! I am not cheating!” Proto protested, throwing his cards down on the table and pouting at her. “You’re just being a sore loser.”
“I’ve seen you looking at my cards!” Theia immediately shot back, hands setting against her hips. “And I know you keep drawing multiple on ‘accident’ just to put the bad ones back! I just haven’t said anything to be nice!”
“I am not!”
Taking advantage of their ongoing argument, Jupiter slipped out of living room, hurrying straight past the bathroom, down the long hallway, and into the last bedroom on the right, slowly just in case it’d been moved into since the last time. To his surprise it was just as empty as it’d been the day he’d been taken from of the orphanage, dragged out kicking after he’d tried futilely to hide, knowing exactly what was ahead of him.
It had been… very obviously a useless endeavor, but at the time he’d just been panicked.
Now he stared at the room, traded one last glance around as the sound of Proto and Theia’s yelling increased, joined by one more voice a moment later, likely the caretaker Theia had mentioned. Unfamiliar to him, so definitely new, at least for the last four years.
So much had already changed.
He stared at the window at the trees outside.
He thought about Erebus standing outside the cottage, likely bored and practicing with his rapier for something to do. He thought about what his life had been like in this exact cottage before, day in and day out entertaining himself with what he’d had. He thought about everything waiting for him back at the palace, a life he’d never asked for or managed to settle into, and he—
Stepped over to the window, pushed it open and slid out on the ground, booking it straight into the forest behind without waiting another second to regret his choices, far too aware he needed to make as much ground as possible before anyone figured out he’d left.
This was what he deserved—freedom.
The freedom he’d lost years ago by a choice not his own.
When he first saw him, Jupiter thought he was seeing things, a trick of the shadows.
And then the shadow moved, and he realized it was Erebus with a bolt of panic straight to the heart. He was crumpled in the shadowed corner of the hallway curled in upon himself, so still Jupiter wasn’t sure if he was alive, and he reacted before he could tell himself Erebus wouldn’t want to see him, to speak to him.
“Erebus!”
He dropped to one knee in front of him, reaching forward to lay a hand on his shoulder—but at the last moment Erebus jerked his head up and fixed him with a glare, upper lip curled, teeth gritted in an angry scowl. He held one hand over the scar on his eye, a near-purple shadow visible under the other like he hadn’t slept in days. “What the—what the fuck do you want, Jupiter?”
Jupiter ignored the frigid ache in his heart. “Are you okay? What’s wrong?”
“Oh, now you care? Leave me alone,” he practically snarled. “It doesn’t matter to you!”
“Is it your scar?” he asked, heart in his throat. “I’m—Erebus, I can get—”
Erebus shoved him back, struggling to his feet with one hand still clasped over his eye. “Leave me alone,” he repeated, staggering once. “If anything, you’ll just make it worse. It’s your fault in the first place, isn’t it?” Jupiter’s shoulders slumped as his breath caught, his heart aching like Erebus had stabbed him through it rather than just said what he had. “And you know it.”
He let himself be pushed to the side as Erebus shoved him none-too-gently with his free hand.
But his heart squeezed even tighter as he spotted Saturn standing at the end of the hallway, hands clasped in the fluffy collar of his cloak, his brow knitted deep. “Jupiter?” He tried to say something and failed completely, biting the inside of his cheek. Erebus snapped something to Saturn—something he couldn’t hear over the sound of his pulse thudding in his ears—and he responded a moment later, pointing down the hallway and following Erebus’s progress with a concerned gaze for several stretching moments before it landed right back on him.
Jupiter stepped backwards into the wall, slumping straight to the ground with his back to it.
Saturn slipped towards him immediately, dropping to one knee just like he had with Erebus. “Are you okay?” Ironic. “What happened?”
“Nothing I don’t deserve,” he said, squeezing his eyes shut. “What did Erebus say?”
“He just wanted to know where Uranus was,” Saturn said, making him briefly confused before he decided to let it go. “I’m serious, Jupi. What happened? You look so… What’s wrong?”
His eyes ached, but finally Jupiter forced them open.
Saturn met his eyes head-on, the liquid gold of his more concerned than he deserved.
“It’s… I didn’t tell you the whole truth back then,” he said, voice already gaining a raspy edge. “I was adopted, and I was made the prince, and I resisted, but—it wasn’t just that. I did worse.” He rubbed his hands down his head and looked up and down the hallway before gesturing for Saturn to sit next to him, which he immediately did, mashing against him shoulder to thigh, messing with his cloak until it pooled in his lap. “I… I ran away, for several months. When I was around fourteen or so years old, and I’d been stuck here for four years.”
Saturn blinked wide-eyed at him. “You ran away?”
“I—That’s not…” He clenched his jaw. “Erebus was my personal guard once,” he admitted, met with only more surprise from Saturn, his head jerking to the side like Erebus would still be there. “Since I was first… adopted. I think he was chosen because we were around the same age, so they assumed it’d make it easier on me, and… it did. He was my only friend for a long time.” He let his head thump backwards against the wall so hard it stung. “And when I ran away, I—He was blamed. And punished.” Jupiter’s mouth felt achingly dry. “Badly. He was even sent away from the palace, from what I was told afterwards, but…” His voice kept faltering. “The scar over his eye, the X? That was part of his punishment. A permanent reminder of sorts.”
Saturn pressed a hand over his mouth as it fell open.
“They—they scarred a fourteen year old? What the—How did you ever forgive Sol? How did he stay here? How did he forgive Sol?”
“It wasn’t Sol’s decision,” he said, staring at the floor. “But he didn’t exactly punish the ones who did it, either. I—When I was found, and forced back, they wouldn’t tell me what happened to Erebus at first. But when they did, I raised hell until he was brought back into the palace guard and given the best healing possible. His scar—It’s actually healed a lot from what it first looked like.” Nausea rose in his core as he remembered the first glimpse he’d had of it, how horrible it’d been and how strong Erebus had seemed to him, to endure it. “I’m sure Erebus knows I had a hand in his return, but I don’t know—I don’t even know if he’s happy, here. Probably not.”
Every glimpse he had of Erebus was another knife to the heart, each one deserved fully.
“But that’s not even all.” He curled his hands, nails digging into his palm until Saturn abruptly reached out, forcing them to uncurl and intertwining their fingers together. Jupiter stared at their hands and couldn’t manage to strength to pull away, instead squeezing tight. “When I—When I left, it was because I said I wanted to visit the orphanage, and Erebus was with me as always to keep an eye on me. But I escaped through one of the windows in the cottage and fled into the forest, and I managed to get far enough away before they raised the alarm. So Erebus was blamed for that, but—” A lump grew in his throat. “I’d left the window open. At the orphanage. Nobody closed it. And that night several of the younger kids discovered it and they used it to run away into the forest, and they—they didn’t make it. They got lost, and they succumbed to the elements, and it’s all my fault.”
He couldn’t manage to look up at Saturn.
“I was the reason those children died, and I was the reason Erebus was scarred, and it was all because I couldn’t handle being a Prince. And so…” Saturn squeezed his hand like he wanted him to look up at him. “I—After I was brought back, and I learned all of that, I threw myself back into training, and education, and I started visiting the orphanage every week to help with whatever they needed. At first it was supervised by the guards, and I had one following me everywhere, but eventually it was just me. I couldn’t—I wanted to prevent something like that happening again.” Saturn tucked a hand under his chin, urging him to lift his head, but he kept it down as he said, “That’s why I visit the orphanage every week. I’m not being good. I’m just making up for my own mistakes.”
His voice cracked on the word mistakes, and at the same time Saturn finally forced him to tilt his head up, and—
Rather than the contempt he half-expected to see at the revelation of his actions, Saturn looked concerned. For him.
“Jupi,” he said, voice quiet as his. “It’s not your fault.”
…That wasn’t what he expected.
“Yes, it is,” he protested, brow knitting. “I was the one who left the window open. I was the one who ran away.”
Saturn’s shoulders slumped. “You ran away because you were forced into a life you didn’t want, Jupi. Would you hate me if I ran away because I didn’t want to marry you?” He tipped his head to the side, eyes widening.
“What? No,” Jupiter immediately said. “It’s your life. I don’t—No.”
“Then you can’t do that to yourself.” Saturn frowned. “Especially your younger self. Jupi, he was just trying to live. You were. And he might have been the one to leave the window open, but how many opportunities did someone else have to close it? How did the children manage to escape without anyone being alarmed?” He opened his mouth without a single word to say. “And are you the one who scarred Erebus personally? Are you the one who made the choice to punish him? If you aren’t, then you can’t blame yourself for it. You were a child, Jupi, just as much of one as he was. Okay?”
He leaned in, pressing their foreheads together, and Jupiter’s breath caught in his throat.
“And you are a good person. You’re more than that. You’re smart, and you try your hardest at everything, and you care for other people more than you probably should, and you don’t even ask for anything in return. You do it even when you know it won’t help. You were just trying to help Erebus even as he cursed at you and told you to leave him alone repeatedly. Jupiter…” He opened his eyes only to find Saturn’s liquid gold inches from his own, boring into him. “Jupiter, it’s not your fault,” he repeated, somehow sounding desperate. “And even if it was, you don’t need to drag it with you for the rest of your life. You’ve more than made up for it. Even I can tell that, and I’ve only known you for a few months!”
Tears glittered within Saturn’s eyes, breaking free even as Jupiter resisted his own, blinking hard.
“Please forgive yourself. You don’t have to forget it, but forgive yourself, and let yourself move on. Don’t mire yourself in this misery forever. Okay?”
“I never—I still haven’t apologized to Erebus,” he admitted. “Not once.”
“Then do it now, and do it a million times more if you think you need to. You can’t change the past, and you can’t control how he responds, but you can control yourself, can’t you? If you’re really sorry, it’ll show through. I’ve made my own mistakes before, and I’ve regretted plenty of things. You’re not alone.” Saturn pressed a single warm kiss to his cheek. “I think you need to think about this for a bit, alright? I’ll give you some time to do that.” He pushed to his feet, though Jupiter didn’t let go of his hand, following him as his head tilted back into the wall. “Just… it’s really not your fault, Jupi. You are a good person, even if you don’t think so. I think so, so even if you can’t believe yourself, believe me when I say that.”
He squeezed his hand before trying to tug it away, but Jupiter held on tight.
“Thank you,” he rasped, eyes unbearably achy. He pressed a kiss of his own to the back of Saturn’s hand, forehead brushing against his wrist as he leaned into the chill of his skin for a second, feeling the press of his rings against his jawline and chin. “I—Thank you, Saturn. Thank you.” He felt like he couldn’t repeat it enough before he looked back up at him, letting go of his hand.
Saturn smiled down at him, eyes crinkled in the corners.
“Don’t thank me, Jupi. I’m only telling you what you deserved to hear a long time ago.” And then he turned, taking several steps away. “Please think about it, okay? We have our regular dinner tonight, so we can talk more then.” He nodded numbly, rewarded with another smile from Saturn before he slipped down the hallway and around the corner, the click of his heels slowly fading.
Despite the tears pricking the corners of his eyes, Jupiter couldn’t even cry like he probably should have.
He just stared up at the ceiling and let his mind spin around Saturn’s words, words it told him to reject and yet he wanted to listen to so very badly. That he wanted to be true more than anything else.
Jupiter knew Saturn was likely right.
He just wasn’t sure how to listen.
He had no idea how long he sat there, seconds from crying and yet never managing it. But finally he pushed to his feet and began to wander, through hall after hall as his thoughts wandered with him, tripping over every inch of the blame he’d laid over himself, a blame that was already beginning to slowly chip away with Saturn’s words repeating within his head. It’s not your fault.
It’d felt like his fault for years. He’d taken it upon himself.
…Was it really not his fault?
It had to be at least partly his fault. If he hadn’t left none of it would happened, and… and where would he be today? Just as unhappy as he’d been then? At least now he’d learned to find things that he did enjoy, and while he wouldn’t claim he was the happiest—well, he wouldn’t have claimed it until recently, because now it felt like that moment might just be on the horizon—he hadn’t hated his life. He hadn’t wanted to run away again. He’d…
Stars, it felt like his world was collapsing around him, the carefully constructed scaffolding of blame and guilt slowly breaking piece by piece. Jupiter had no idea what was going to replace it.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered to himself, his voice raspy and cracked. “I’m sorry.” He imagined Erebus in front of him, the same angry scowl and glare he’d worn before, and then the Erebus he’d seen right before he’d run away, pink-cheeked and staring off into the forest, and he repeated it again. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m—”
And then he turned a corner and found himself staring right at Erebus, only—
Rather than glaring at him in hatred as Jupiter had grown used to, he seemed rather taken with kissing Uranus where he’d pinned him against the wall, one of his wrists trapped underneath a splayed hand. Jupiter’s thoughts warred for a single stretching moment before he heard a muffled yelp and snapped back into focus to see Uranus pushing Erebus away, flushed bright red as he stared at him. “B-Bloody hell? Prince Jupiter, what are you—?!”
In a very delayed reaction, Jupiter set one hand in front of his eyes and coughed out a strangled apology to him.
“Jupiter,” Erebus growled, making his jaw clench before he slowly dropped his hand only to see he’d stepped in front of Uranus, scowling at him just like he had before, “What the hell are you doing here?”
“I-I was just wandering around,” he managed, “I didn’t mean to…” He cleared his throat. “I’m—” His eyes landed on Erebus’s scar, the two lines slashed over his eye, one through his brow and down to his cheekbone, the other crossing from the bridge of his nose to the other side of the same brow. “I’m sorry, Erebus.”
“You better be,” he said, lip still curled in anger. “Now if you’re so sorry, then get the hell—”
“No,” Jupiter interrupted. “I’m sorry. For everything. For leaving. For your punishment. For… for not apologizing in the years since. You deserved one long, long ago, Erebus, and I’m— I’m so sorry. I know it’s probably paltry, and nothing I could say would ever make up for how long this took… but I—I really am sorry. So much I couldn’t find a way to say it.”
Erebus’s eyes widened the longer he spoke, his scowl dropping away into an almost comically-surprised expression.
Jupiter felt like he’d shoved an impossible weight from his chest, but his heart still felt strangled tight in the grip of guilt.
“You—” Erebus clenched his jaw, eyes dropping before he sighed, shoulders slumping. “Fuck. It’s a start, Jupiter.” And then he wrapped one hand around Uranus’s wrist and shoved past him, dragging him behind as Uranus clearly tried to avoid his eyes, still flushed splotchy bright red. “It’s a start,” he repeated one more time, quieter from the distance, the words still enough to make an irrepressible smile tug at his lips as he stared after them until they’d both disappeared.
A start was more than enough for him.
Saturn looked like he’d received the news of a lifetime when Jupiter told him what he did, standing up like he meant to lunge at him over the table before he realized what he was doing and coughed awkwardly, giving a practical giggle as he sat. “I’m so proud of you, Jupi. I knew you could do it,” he said, smiling at him, his eyes crinkled in the corners, bright and happy by every measure.
Jupiter could only think one thing, the thought a lightning bolt straight through him.
I think I’m in love with you.
It felt right, righter than anything he’d thought about himself in years, and he barely managed to restrain the urge to say it aloud, instead turning his attention to dinner with a profuse thanks to Saturn for what he’d told him—a thanks Saturn waved off, again telling him that he’d only told him what he should have been told years before.
It only made the thought stronger, multiplying in the back of his mind.
I think I’m in love with you. I think I’m in love with you.
Almost five months had passed. Only five months, and he felt this strongly.
Perhaps he should get up, walk straight to Sol’s rooms, and thank him for the choice to arrange this. All of the courtiers. Everyone who’d had a hand in this decision being made, because as little as he’d wanted it originally, now Jupiter couldn’t think of a single reason he wouldn’t want to marry Saturn. He’d hadn’t been able to think of a compelling one for a long time now, if he really thought about it. It felt so much clearer to him with years of guilt and blame shattered to pieces at Saturn’s behest.
I think I’m in love with you. I think I’m in love with you. I think I’m in love with you.
“You were quiet tonight, Jupi,” Saturn said, blinking at him as they arrived at the hallway his room was in, arm in arm again. “Did you have a good thinking session about it all? Realize what you needed to realize?”
His cheeks ached from the force of his smile.
“Yes,” he said, unable to tear his eyes from Saturn, thankful for his own memorization of the palace for keeping him from tripping or accidentally making a fool of himself. “I did.” He looked up but spotted no guard in the hallway, both thankful and confused at the fact. “A… a very important realization.” His eyes landed on Saturn as he broke their linked arms apart.
I think I’m in love with you. I think I’m in love with you. I think I'm in love with you. I think I’m in love with you.
“Oh?” Saturn’s eyes crinkled. “Which one?”
“I think I’m in love with you,” he said, the words rushing from him like butterflies unleashed from a net. “I think I have been for a while.” Saturn’s lips parted, expression slack with a surprise that was quickly morphing into a joy that sent more butterflies twisting in his gut, more words rushing from his mouth. “I think this arranged marriage was the best choice that’s ever been made for me, the only one I’d want to happen again. I think you’re one of the best people I’ve ever known, I’ll ever come to know. I think—”
But whatever else he might have said was stopped, first as Saturn clutched at his shoulders, fingers digging into the fabric of his shirt, then again as he leaned up and closed the gap between them, mouth slanting against his in a kiss that started clumsy from surprise, strengthening the moment he lifted one hand, careful of his hair as he pressed it against his back and pulled him in closer, fixing the angle of his head and the pressure of the kiss at the same time even as joy replaced the blood in his veins, his awareness of everything but Saturn sapping away with the seconds passing. “Jupiter,” he murmured happily against his mouth, breaking the kiss barely enough to say it, “I think I love you too.” And then he pressed right back into another, and another, pushing him backwards with the grip on his shoulders until his back hit the wall, not even the sudden jarred stop distracting him from his pursuit.
Only a sudden voice made them stop, familiar in the worst way.
“Wow,” Erebus said, dragging the word out until they broke apart, both panting and red-faced; but still he couldn’t look away from Saturn’s eyes until he broke eye contact, jerking his head to the side to look at Erebus, who stared at them both with a crooked smirk, his brows raised. Behind him was Uranus, who was just as bright red as he’d been the last time Jupiter had seen him, one hand yanking on his braid as the other splayed over his eyes. “At least Uranus and I were a bit more hidden.”
He barked out a rough laugh and then kept on walking, Uranus following at his heels after a moment, head dipped to avoid eye contact. Saturn laughed, dropping his forehead against his shoulder, fingers clutching tighter at it; and then he turned his head, shouting, “Have a good night, Uranus!”
“Oh, we will!”
Erebus yanked one of the doors much further down the hall open, stepping inside and pulling Uranus in after him. The sound of the door slamming ripped Jupiter from his trance, and he felt the familiar warmth of embarrassment crawling into his cheeks as he cleared his throat, eyeing the hallway just to be sure nobody else was around. “Jupiter?”
He immediately looked down at Saturn’s quiet call. “Yes?”
“I love you, darling.”
Jupiter forgot all sense of embarrassment, leaning down to brush his forehead against Saturn’s, eyes locked onto his, liquid gold against electric blue. “I love you too,” he echoed, meaning them more than anything else he’d ever said in his life.
“I’m so glad it was you,” Saturn said, expression softening, unbearably fond. “I couldn’t be happier.” He leaned up more, lips brushing against his. “At least until the day we actually get married, perhaps.” He hummed a happy sound and then pressed right back into another kiss, desperate and unyielding, and Jupiter responded just as strongly, one thought buzzing on loop in the back of his mind as he curled his fingers into Saturn’s hair, urging him impossibly closer.
Me too.