Once A Tale (MXM, BXB)

The Bear: Bonus Short II

Borenz could say that he didn't much like the look of the people who had come to see Florian today. Oh no, not one bit. Say what you would about him (unkempt hair, scraggly appearance, branches and leaves just on him) but he didn't have the sly look that those people had.

He'd seen it before on gamblers in low-lit taverns, on people whose fingers never strayed far from a knife, their smiles wide but their eyes hard.

These people had come to get something from Florian and Borenz didn't like that one bit.

That led to his behaviour now. The prince crouched next to the door to the room used for all guests, diplomatic, mercantile and otherwise, listening closely.

"—ure you understand the position of your people," one of those sleazeballs was saying at the moment. Borenz thought they were the Duke of Whatsit but couldn't be bothered to remember, not when he disliked them on sight. "This is a very mutually beneficial arrangement."

His lip curled.

That was something he'd heard before, sitting in on meetings with Angelika. She was a force to be reckoned with when it came to diplomatic stuff. All smiles and hard edges and an unyielding core. Borenz was scared of her frequently, he couldn't imagine how she scared strangers.

But Florian...

Florian didn't have the same intimidating features as his sister. He looked soft so people thought he was soft when really he was sarcastic and dry, willing to put everything on the line for his people and really—Borenz blushed—quite debonair and manly when he wanted to be.

Ah, no.

He was getting distracted.

He heard Florian's calm voice clearly and listened to the edge in it when he said, "I don't quite see the benefits for my country in this arrangement. These are all resources we receive elsewhere, we are not troubled for such things at this time."

"Your Highness," said the Duke of Whatever in a cajoling tone, as though speaking with a child. "I'm not certain you understand—"

Borenz stiffened and stood all at once. His pelt, as usual, was draped and pinned across his shoulders and oh what a fright he could give them if he charged in there as a bear. However, today his hand hesitated when reaching for it and, with a hard shake of his head, he clenched his teeth in determination and faced the door as a human.

"Your Royal Highness," Borenz shouted, sweeping open the door with a deafening clang.

All of the people in the room jumped and Florian, a little red high in the cheekbones, stared at Borenz with an open mouth. His lips shaped his name but nothing came out, but Borenz didn't mind him too much anyway.

He feigned shock, covering his mouth with a hand and planting his other hand on his hip. "Oh, dang, sorry, I didn't know you had visitors! I was just coming to review some plans with you," he bluffed, swaggering into the room, projecting more self-possession than he'd ever felt in his life.

Florian mouthed what are you doing? with wide eyes but Borenz thought he caught relief in the way his tense posture relaxed minutely. He just flashed him a small wink when he was sure it would be missed.

"I'm sorry, who are," the Duke of Failing to Read the Mood began.

"Eh," Borenz said, turning to squint at him. "I'm Borenz, from the Northlands. First prince."

Second to the first princess, but they don't need to know that.

As expected, the name of his homeland had the desired effect. The Duke of Getting On My Nerves went pale and then red, his mouth a straight line.

"Ah, I didn't realise you were acquainted," he said delicately, glancing between them.

"Oh, yeah," Borenz said brightly, leaning at the waist to peer at him. "But, sorry, who are you?"

Nothing ever brought a noble down a peg like being questioned on who they were and, in conjunction, asking them what right they had to be here. Barging into Florian's home, disrupting his day, acting like he was an idiot who didn't understand basic politics? Borenz was dumb, but even he knew when someone was being patronising.

"I apologise," said the Duke of Finally Leaving stiffly, "perhaps we'll talk another time, Your Highness."

"Royal Highness," Borenz cut in, looking at his nails.

"Pardon?"

"It's Your Royal Highness," Borenz said. "Who are you again, that you don't know that?"

The insidious phrasing used to attack Florian now worked smoothly against the Duke of Shattered Ego, and Borenz watched his flush deepen as he turned toward the door after bowing tensely. His companions followed in a flurry, though a man at the back of the group turned and offered Borenz the bow not given by any of his compatriots.

Borenz waved in a friendly way and grinned as the door slammed after their retreating backs.

Florian sighed heavily. "You... honestly."

"Heh heh. Sorry. I was eavesdropping and he pissed me off." Borenz watched Florian sink into his chair and wave vaguely toward an expensive-looking cabinet. Agreeably, Borenz fetched him a cup from it and a bottle of akvavit, poured halfway.

After Florian took the daintiest of dainty sips, he looked up at Borenz with those bluer-than-blue eyes and said, "Thank you. I was about to correct him myself and tell him to get out."

Borenz's cheeks warmed and he glanced away before grinning again. "No problem. What kind of fiancé am I if I don't swoop in to save you and throw my good reputation on the ground in the process?"

"Since when have you had a good reputation?"

"Since never."

They gazed at each other then, as one, burst into laughter.

Florian was still chuckling as he turned away, his fingers brushing a piece of his blond hair behind one ear. Borenz watched him as he took another drink, a lump suddenly in his throat. After swallowing once, a hard gulp, he asked with feigned casualness, "Is it good?"

"Very," Florian replied. "Did you want a taste?"

Borenz did. He interrupted Florian's hand, about to pick up the glass. Twining their fingers, he pressed it down to the top of the table and leaned down into his space, until brown and blond hair mingled. He saw wide eyes and pale lashes the second before he kissed Florian, licked the taste of the spiced spirit from his mouth and felt his sharp inhale.

When he pulled back he said, "Y'know, never liked that stuff much. I always said it tasted too much like rye."

Florian, red-cheeked and scowling, grabbed him by his collar.

"Allow me to take the taste out of your mouth, then," he said with a dangerous edge to it, an edge that made Borenz's ears burn and butterflies fly around in a mad whirlwind in his gut.

And so Florian did.