Requiem for a King [MxM]

Duty

Among the Valentius family, there were quite a few well-kept secrets, but none so well kept as the Seventh passage. It was known to those who worked in the castle that there were six main passages, marked by being the widest halls. The seventh passage, however, was known to only Jaredeth, who'd then have to pass that knowledge on to his daughter.

Jaredeth stood at the large paving stone that marked the edge of the north garden. Right next to it stood a statue of a hawk—the same animal emblazoned on the country's crest—and the torch that marked the first cornerstone that was placed when the castle was built. He grabbed the hawk's head and turned it so it faced east.

The whirring of gears was almost imperceptible, and small vibrations rose through the soles of his shoes. The paving stone sunk into the ground and formed the step down into the seventh passage. Jaredeth plucked the torch from its metal cradle, descended the steps, and waited for the exit to shut behind him. He remembered the first time his father had shown him the passage. He'd just turned eighteen—the age when he'd become the least interested in the hum-drum of one day ruling a country.

He'd wanted to live for himself, not for some frumpy old hunk of metal and whatever responsibilities came with it. Perhaps he should've listened more keenly to his father's advice in those moments. Then he wouldn't be so lost now.

He held the torch high as he walked through the plain grey corridors, around bends and up steps until he reached the statue that marked the exit beneath his office. Unless someone had been redecorating in his absence, it should take him right behind the desk.

He twisted the hawk's head, the gears much louder within the passage than they were outside, and the stairs came down.

Jaredeth met his office empty, neglected. A layer of dust coated the documents he'd left on the desk before his trip to Tandridge. The curtains were drawn shut; the books packed into the shelves and the chair tucked away.

He went around the room, lighting the various candles on sconces and tables. Then he pulled the chair out and sat behind the desk, his desk. He still wasn't used to being on the other side. The responsible side.

The old oak desk had been in their family for hundreds of years and scores of rulers. And as Jaredeth sat there, alone, he begged for their wisdom. Before leaving Hutton, his mother had told him to check the bottom drawer. It usually remained locked—a personal space for the acting ruler.

One of his ancestors had used it to fuel their habit from foreign wines. Another for their collection of precious stones. His father kept a wooden puzzle that was a gift from his mother. Jaredeth didn't know what he'd stow in there yet. Perhaps something of Jaliah's.

His father had taught him the combination on a trip across the gulf. Up once. Click. Left thrice, click. Up twice, click. Right once, click. Down four, click. The drawer popped open and inside he found two canisters, one blank and the other labeled with his name. He cleared away a spot and opened the labeled one first.

His father's slanted scrawled stared back at him from the page.

Son,

If you're reading this letter, then I've passed on to Eternity and you are now King. If circumstances are in my favour, you'll be settled of mind and heart, but should I leave you when you're young and troubled, you may find the crown too heavy to bear.

I know you never wanted to be King. You weren't enamoured by the ways of high society, amused by the maze of politics, or interested in the intricacies of governance. However, the crown is your birthright and service is your duty. And I know it's hard, so I'll leave you with this advice.

Should you ever find yourself at an impasse or in the face of a difficult decision, look inward. There are some questions even a million councilors cannot answer for you. And should you ever find the weight of the crown too much for you to bear, lean on those you trust. They are the pillars that will hold you steady through the roughest circumstances. Also, listen to your mother. She was always smarter than me and I was too prideful to admit it.

I have every confidence that you will be the King that propels Avaly into a prosperous future. Godspeed, my son, and may your reign be as fruitful as your heart is pure.

Your father always,

Jaredeth Archenhaud Valentius II

The words blurred before Jaredeth's eyes and he pressed the heels of his hands against his eyes to staunch his tears. Of course, his father would know just what he needed to hear. Look inward. His Council had betrayed him and the Calamity was on Avaly's doorstep. Now was not the time to cower. Now was the time to prove himself.

He popped the second canister and rolled out the parchment. Not a letter, and not his father's handwriting, but his grandfather's. He read over the slanted scrawl and his stomach sank. A formal declaration to end the ban on necromancy in Avaly. Both his grandfather's and father's signatures were at the bottom.

Jaredeth wiped the sweat from his palms. Why was it never enacted? If his grandfather had drafted the declaration, it meant he was trying to hide it from the Council, and his father probably didn't know what to do with it. "Your father was a coward," his mother had said. "And his father was no better."

As Jaredeth tucked the letter and the declaration away. The door clicked open and in walked Quintus and Havers. The latter looked away and rubbed his neck while the latter frowned.

"Is everything alright your majesty?" Havers asked.

"It's fine, Havers. You should head to bed. I'll be spending the night here." Jaredeth pushed the drawer shut. "I can't thank you enough for your help."

"I'm just happy to have you back, your majesty. I shall return in the morn." With that, Havers bowed his head and took his leave.

Quintus leaned against the door. "Why is it that every time I happen upon you, you look as though you've been crying? Is my absence that distressing to you?"

Jaredeth knitted his brow, his chest filling with warmth. "I thought I'd never hear you tease me again." When Quintus only shrugged, Jaredeth continued. "I'm not sure if it's your absence, but when I thought your were going to leave me in Ewell, it was one of the most distressing moments of my life."

"Don't do that." Quintus said.

"Do what?" Jaredeth stood from his desk and tucked the chair in.

"Talk about your feelings, because then you'll want me to talk about my feelings and I don't want to do that."

He took a step towards Quintus and smiled. "Are you saying you have feelings for me?"

"Now who's the one teasing?" Quintus asked, arching a brow.

Jaredeth closed the distance between them. "How about we skip the talking and teasing altogether and get straight into what I know we both want?" He trailed a hand up Quintus' chest to his collar and loosened the button there. "Well...?"

Quintus grabbed him by the lapels and dragged him close. "I can't stand you." Their lips crashed so fast and hard, their teeth clicked. They stumbled back and crashed down onto the couch together.

"You really want to do this here?" Quintus asked as he kicked off his boots. "I don't think your predecessors would approve."

Jaredeth snorted and tossed his jacket on the low table. "I don't care what those troglodytes think."

Quintus arched a dark brow. "Your wife might hear us."

"Good."

***

Note: I have two pieces of good news to share. Firstly, this story is completely drafted offline. I won't increase updates just yet because I have a ton on my plate right now. Second, I published a short story in a professional fiction magazine/podcast. So If you want a look at my more serious work, I'll leave a link in an inline comment here.