Lucas lay curled up on the floor of his bedroom, sweat dripping off of his naked, trembling, body, soaking the wooden floor beneath him. Chills encapsulated him as the beast-fever broke. Fresh claw marks were dug into the floor and walls. Despite his best efforts to control himself, turning into a wolf was still a nasty business—the pain alone being enough to bring any man to their knees, even with the benefit of pain-relieving elixirs.
Every muscle in his body ached. Even though the elixir he had consumed the night before kept him lucid during his transformation, it had the unfortunate side effect of making him very aware of the stretching, tearing, and reformation of his muscles and bones. Instead of blacking out—as werewolves typically would—Lucas was forced to experience every second of excruciating pain that transformation entailed. The pay-off, of course, being that he wouldn't go on a feral murdering spree. A small price to pay, all things considered.
Over the past several months, Lucas had grown accustomed to Vin staying with him during his transformations, despite Lucas insisting his lover would be safer elsewhere during the full moon. Vin never seemed to mind the risk. He knew Lucas would never intentionally hurt him, and to his credit, he never had. Until last night, he hadn't truly understood just how much he relied on Vin to keep him grounded. With their inevitable breakup coming on the eve of the full moon, it was certainly the roughest night he'd had in a while.
Regardless of the night he'd had, he was still expected to pull himself together for this evening's party, even though the thought of a party intended solely for the courtship and betrothal of his former lover to another person repulsed him to his core. As much as he'd like to avoid it, he had to maintain the appearance that the castle was scandal free. If that meant faking that they'd never shared a bed, then that was what he would do.
Pushing himself up from the floor, he shuffled over to the cedar chest against the wall. On top, sat a nearly empty bottle of pain relieving elixir, which Lucas hastily grabbed and downed immediately. Within a couple minutes, the pain in his body began to fade into a dull, tolerable, ache. Reaching into the water basin, he produced a wet rag, and proceeded to wash the sweat off of his face, allowing the cool water to run down his neck. As the beginnings of relief washed over him, he was finally able to regain his composure.
Birds chirped chipper melodies outside his window as soft, golden, sun illuminated his modest home. It was as if he had been transported into a new world—one filled with peace and beauty. The morning sun had no knowledge of the suffering its celestial sibling had brought down upon him, and Lucas found some comfort in that. Cosmically, there was a place for him to exist where he was simply human, and nothing more.
He gazed out towards the mountains, morning mist clinging to the grass and fields. As he stepped towards the window, a sharp pain ran up his spine, causing him to draw a stuttered breath. A brief wave of nausea passed over him, then subsided. The pain, he could deal with, but the nausea, he'd rather not. Luckily, nausea didn't commonly accompany his moon cycles, but when it did, it clung to him tightly for at least a day or two. Lucas desperately hoped that the nausea was just a fluke, spawned by the lingering pains gripping his muscles; however, he would be sure to collect some ginger tea from Angelique before the party, just to be safe.
Vin found himself pacing around the solar, hands clasped firmly behind his back, face twisted with frustration. At the center of the room, a long table proudly displayed an old, vellum map of the kingdom and surrounding lands. Amidst his repetitive marching, the young king would glance at the map, give it a thought, and then return to pacing. Just a mere week ago, his only concern was keeping his nightly trysts with his lycan lover away from prying eyes; but now, he had to organize and prepare an army for war with a neighboring nation, and he hadn't the foggiest idea where to start.
They hadn't yet received word regarding the reasoning behind the unprompted assassination of the late king, but the reason would never change the outcome. Death would be met with death, that was for certain. But how to go about it was a question he never wanted to ask, much less answer.
Wandering over to the table again, he leaned over the map and studied the lines, as if committing them to memory. He'd been so focused on his thoughts, that he hadn't heard his mother enter the room. Gracefully, she walked up behind him and placed a hand lightly on his shoulder, causing Vin to jump.
"Hard at work, I see." Her voice was soft, with an air of playfulness.
"Mm." Vin grunted in acknowledgement.
Marion studied her son's face for a moment. His crimson eyes were dark, consumed with worry and frustration. The playful, boyish charm he'd carried with him all his life was now reduced to a fading memory. It was like staring at an entirely different person, and it cracked her to her core.
"Your father had that exact same expression on his face whenever he was troubled by something."
"Not hard to believe, I saw that face a great deal growing up." Vin's voice was flat, his attention still firmly held on the map.
"He did spend a lot of time worrying about you." She let loose a small smile, caught for a moment in reminiscence.
"How could he not worry? His only child, and heir to the throne, clearly lacked every quality required to be a decent king. If I were him, I never would have stopped worrying." The young King's face softened into listless melancholy. Vin loved and admired his father, but they didn't always see eye to eye. The late king held fast to the traditions of the royal family, but as time progressed, Vin couldn't see much use in them. To him, they were just archaic rules from a long forgotten time, belonging to a world he never knew. Because of that, regretfully, he didn't spend as much time with his father as he now wished he had.
"He didn't worry about you because he didn't think you were capable of ruling the kingdom. He worried about you because... well..." Marion paused, contemplating her next words carefully. "You were his only child. He always hoped to have a large family, but... it didn't go that way for us." Her voice softened, and she directed her gaze to the old map on the table that her son was currently hunched over. "He saw a lot of himself in you, and I think that scared him."
Vin looked at his mother, who held her attention on the map, tears welling in her eyes. He hardly remembered ever seeing his mother cry. Even when his father was away in hostile lands, she never showed any cracks in her armor. Such a delicate, petite, gentle, woman with a heart of solid steel. She always had faith that, no matter what, her husband would always return to her. But this time, he wasn't coming home. All things considered, she was handling it very well, however, the grief was beginning to overshadow the shock, and she was starting to break.
Vin had been so preoccupied with his coronation and the impending war that he hadn't really taken the time to mourn his father's passing. It was an unpleasant distraction, but a useful one nonetheless. Marion didn't have the luxury of such distractions, and while she was preparing for the war in her own ways, the work was mindless, leaving her plenty of time to be consumed by her own thoughts and suffering.
"I guess... I only ever saw our differences." Vin spoke after a moment, reaching out and grabbing his mother's hand, giving it a light squeeze. It wasn't much, but it was enough.
The queen gently rested her head on her son's shoulder and let a few silent tears trickle down her softly blushed face. Her breathing remained even with only the slightest hitch every so often. She knew she was safe to cry here, but she didn't want to. A lifetime of denying her own vulnerability had left an irreparable mark on her soul, and the tears that betrayed her now were the first tears to fall in front of another person in a very long time.
Both the young king and the queen stood silently for a while, neither wishing to leave the other. Vin hadn't realized how deeply his heart ached until now. It felt like his soul was descending into a pitch black abyss, every step taking him further and further away from the warmth of the light. He wondered if, at the end of it all, he would be able to find that light again—to dig himself out of the inky blackness that was presently consuming him like a viper around a baby bird; and if he ever did find that light again, would he be worthy enough to step into it.
Finally, Marion pulled herself away and wiped the glistening tear tracks from her face.
"Try not to focus too much on this today. This is supposed to be a joyous occasion, and there will always be tomorrow." She softly kissed Vin's cheek.
"If it's all the same to you, I'd rather spend my time being productive and miserable rather than just... miserable."
"Very well, our guests will be arriving in a few hours, so ensure you are present to greet them when they do." With that, the queen left the solar, and Vin was, once again, left in silence.
Lucas poured hot water from the kettle over the ginger herbal tea in his mug. The scent of sweet lemon and sharp ginger swirled with the steam, like a delicate ballet. It was a smell he'd probably enjoy a lot more if he wasn't combating a wave of nausea so severe that every smell was hanging in the back of his throat. He held his breath for a moment while the tea steeped.
As the nausea began to subside, he apprehensively lifted the warm mug to his lips and took a small sip. The flavor felt heavy on his tongue, and he sucked the roof of his mouth, face scrunched into a grimace.
"Mm-'' He grunted softly, leaning over the table, eyes squeezed shut as the nausea rose back to the surface. Lucas clenched his jaw and focused all of his energy on pushing the nausea away, as if he was banishing an uninvited guest from his house. Eventually, it fell quiet, and he again pressed his lips to the rim of the mug, this time taking a large gulp. The hot tea had cooled a bit, but was still hot enough to sting his tongue and send ripples of heat down his throat.
As quickly as the knight could manage, he slammed down the hot tea. The heat settled in his stomach and extended throughout his body—which wasn't the most comfortable feeling—but the nausea had seemed to have faded, and for that he was incredibly thankful. He knew it wasn't a permanent solution, but he had purchased enough tea to get him through the next few days at least, at which point, the aftermath of his moon cycle should be solidly behind him.
Sighing with relief, he set the still warm mug on the table with a soft tap and turned to the window. The afternoon sun was rapidly approaching the golden hour, and not long after, the castle would be filled with the bustling of guests from across the land and sea. Carriages would soon be sent to collect the invited nobles from the ports to escort them to the royal grounds.
As much as Lucas wished to shut his eyes and pretend the world around him was standing still, he knew no amount of longing would change the events that had come to pass. The love of his life was destined to be wed to another, and that was a bitter tonic to swallow, but one he had to drink regardless. His stomach twisted in knots at the thought of his king dancing around the great hall, clasping the hands of fair royal maidens, all pining for his affection. The mere rumination of it all caught in his throat. It took him a moment to realize he'd been holding his breath, trying to stave off the jittering pain in his chest.
He stared out at the mountains, standing rigid and firm, glowing softly under the golden sun. A family of birds nested in a nearby tree, chirping sweetly to one another. The gentle breeze rustled the oak leaves, as if mother nature herself were trying to shush his racing mind. He tried to focus on the calming waves of the overgrown grass. Slowly, the tightness in his stomach dissipated. Brushing the hair out of his face, he decided there was no use left in stalling, and he donned his best attire, before proceeding to the castle.
Thumping horse hooves padded against the dirt road, accompanying the creaking and clacking of the ornate, filigree adorned carriages, rapidly approaching the castle. Vin gazed out the window of the solar at the arriving guests. He was certain his mother would be tapping her toes, waiting for him to make his appearance, but it all felt so trivial. There were far more important things to worry about than courting a bride he didn't want. Some small part of him thought, perhaps, he could make it through the evening in solitude, and his guests would be too drunk to notice.
His thoughts were disrupted by an unwelcome knock at the door.
"I told you, I would be down soo-" Vin turned to face the door, and his breath caught in his throat. Standing before him was a tall, sandy haired knight, clad in a white blouse, loosely tucked into his black pants. His hair was pulled back, neatly, into a half ponytail, secured with a thin, black ribbon.
"I was sent to retrieve you, Your Grace." The knight bowed slightly.
"L-Lucas? What are you-?" The king's heart pounded in his chest with an intensity he feared even Lucas could hear.
"I am still in Your Majesty's employ. Forgive me, I am simply fulfilling a request from Her Majesty, the queen." Lucas held his expression blank to hide the emotions threatening to break through. He wondered how long it would be before he could stand in the same room as the king without his thumping heart beat choking him. It truly was unfortunate that he should be the only person presently available for this task.
"Of course. I just... didn't expect..."
"Me, sir?"
"Lucas, would you knock off this 'sir' and 'Your Majesty' shit already?" Vin spat bitterly. "We've shared a bed, I believe my name should suffice."
Lucas gulped as the butterflies in his stomach fluttered into his chest. He could see the pain in Vin's face. The young knight had been so focused on numbing his own pain that he hadn't realized how passively cruel those titles were coming from his lips. But this was how it was supposed to be.
"My apologies, sir, but I cannot-"
Vin whipped around and charged Lucas, pinning him against the wall. Lucas's face flushed instantly under the king's forceful grip.
"I told you to stop!" The royal growled through his tightly clenched jaw. Vin's eyes darted over his former lover's features for a moment before his grimacing face softened, and his chin began to tremble. "Why do you insist on torturing me?" He averted his gaze. "Haven't I suffered enough?" Vin's voice was so soft, even a whisper would be considered loud by comparison.
Lucas gulped hard, contemplating his next words cautiously. He knew what he wanted to do, but that time had passed now. All that was left was an aching desire—a thirst that could never be quenched. It was like being stranded in a desert with a glittering oasis always just out of reach.
Vin's grip loosened slightly, but his gaze remained firmly on the scuffed, wooden floor. His silky black hair hung between them like a veil.
"I love you."
Vin jolted, body tensed, as his eyes quickly met Lucas's. A shocked, wide-eyed stare was boring into the pinned knight.
"I'm... in love with you." Lucas continued, softly. "I don't know if there will ever come a day that I'll no longer hold you in my heart, but what I do know," he paused, grabbing the king's hand and removing it from his firmly muscled arm, "is that today, I cannot love you. Tomorrow, I cannot love you. And everyday for the rest of my life, I am forbidden from loving you. So yes, you have suffered enough, but that suffering does not end with you." Lucas pulled away from Vin and walked to the doorway. "The queen has requested your presence. It is my duty to fulfill that request." He said flatly. "However, as king, no one has any authority over you. I trust you'll find your own way."
With that, Lucas exited the solar, leaving Vin alone, once again. Vin slammed the door shut, and slid to the floor. The conversation replayed over and over in his mind. I love you. I'm in love with you. The more loops the conversation made, the more he wished to sink into the floor. To enter a world of numbness where he had no memories of love or desire. Vin's tears ran down his face in rivers. 'Love' was never a word he or Lucas had ever said to one another. Some part of Vin had always believed that if he had never defined his feelings, if he never solidified them with that tiny word, he would never have to fear the loss of it. But he was wrong. That little word didn't hold any emotion at all. It was just a label for the feeling that had already consumed him, and now he knew for certain that it had swallowed Lucas as well.
Music echoed throughout the great hall as guests chatted and danced. The queen paced anxiously behind the high table, awaiting the appearance of her son. Lucas leaned against the stone wall, tucked away from the crowd, arms folded across his chest.
"Having fun?"
Lucas recognized the voice as belonging to Remus, a knight he had frequently trained with, and had considered a good friend.
"Mm-" He responded, eyes still fixed on the dancing nobles.
"Don't sound too excited." Remus chuckled, handing Lucas a mug of ale.
"It is what it is." Lucas lifted the mug to his lips to take a sip, inhaling the strong scent of barley. Instantly, a wave of nausea blind-sided him, and he quickly pulled the mug away from his nose. "Good gods, that's bloody awful!" He squeezed his eyes shut, shielding his mouth and nose with the back of his hand, waiting for the nausea to pass.
"The hell are you talking about? This is the good stuff!" Remus took a big whiff of his own mug, but didn't find himself suffering the same reaction as the sandy haired knight.
After a moment, the nausea lightened enough for him to speak.
"It's probably just me, then."
"Are you alright? I've never seen you repulsed by an ale before. Even the shitty ones never had you on the verge of puking."
"Rough night. Full moon and all." He forced out.
"Forgot about that." Remus scratched the back of his neck and took a swig of ale. "I've never seen it get you this bad, though. You sure you didn't eat something rancid?" He playfully nudged Lucas's side with his elbow.
"We've eaten the same food all week." Lucas rolled his eyes. "I don't see you losing it."
"Fair enough." Remus took another gulp of ale, grabbing the still full mug from Lucas. "More for me, then." He glanced towards the high table. "Ah, I see the guest of honor has decided to grace us with his presence." His voice was unamused, and slightly muffled by the mug he held to his lips.
Lucas directed his attention to Vin, who's mother was now anxiously smoothing out his hair. Even from across the room, he could see his face was flushed from crying. The knight felt his stomach flip and bitter saliva filled his mouth. Quickly, he rushed out to the courtyard as beads of clammy sweat formed on his brow. From the safety of the shadows, he heaved acidic bile from his stomach.
When he got it all out of his system, he leaned against the castle wall to catch his breath. His throat was burned raw, and every swallow felt like jabbing needles. The nausea had mostly subsided, but his stomach was still uneasy.
"Lucas?" A soft voice called to him.
The knight lifted his gaze to meet the eyes of the concerned man standing before him. Crimson eyes glowed in the flickering torch light, and Lucas's heart skipped.
"Your Majesty, please, this is not something the king should concern himself with." He turned away, embarrassed to be seen in such an abysmal state.
"You're ill." Vin's brows knit worriedly. Slowly, he stepped towards his former lover. "Why didn't you tell me?"
"It wasn't of any concern to the king." Lucas sunk to the ground, resting his arms on his bent knees, still catching his breath. Vin kneeled beside him.
"You're wrong. Your wellbeing will always be a priority."
"A kind sentiment, sir, but I assure you, I am fine." Lucas coughed from the rawness in his throat.
"You've just expelled the contents of your stomach on my lawn. Forgive me for not believing that." The king shifted to sit next to Lucas, back resting against the rough stone wall. "Please do not forsake your health to accommodate me."
Lucas pulled his gaze to Vin's. The young king's eyes were slightly swollen, and his lips were chapped red. Slight guilt crept up on the knight, and he sighed and turned away.
"It's just a hangover from the moon cycle. It'll pass by morning." He assured.
"The full moon." Vin's voice trembled at the shocked realization that he had been so preoccupied with pitying himself, that he'd completely forgotten what time of the month it was. "I didn't... I..." He fumbled over the words. "I shouldn't have... I shouldn't have left you alone like that." Vin gnawed at his lower lip.
Lucas sat quietly for a moment. He was at a loss for words. He honestly couldn't tell which scenario would have been preferable. Would Vin's presence have soothed him, or made things worse? How would his jumbled emotions manifest in the presence of the person who'd ripped his heart out? At least on his own, he knew everyone was still safe.
Vin pushed himself up from the grass and brushed the dirt from his pants, before extending a hand to Lucas.
"I'll take you home."
"I told you, sir, I'm fine."
"Ah, good. Still going on with the formalities." Vin muttered. "If that's the case, this will be much easier. As your king, I declare that you are relieved of your duties for the evening. I will be escorting you home."
The knight glared at the stubborn vampire, before sighing and accepting his outstretched hand. Vin pulled the strong knight up with unexpected ease. Warmth radiated from his palm, sending waves of calm through Lucas's body. It was a gentle peace that could bring him to tears if he let it.
Though he had every intention of letting go, he couldn't bring himself to do it. He had spent the last two days trapped on an arid sand dune, and he was finally permitted a sip from the oasis. Lucas half expected Vin to pull away, but instead, his grip tightened. Butterflies danced in his stomach, causing him to tightly grip the shirt fabric resting over his belly, as if that act itself would calm the fluttering.
The walk was quiet. Neither man said a word. They just existed in the silence that wrapped around them like a shroud. For the moment, there was no party, no royal obligations, no suffering. Just peaceful warmth and comfort. Lucas wished he could bottle this moment, to drink from it whenever the reality of it all came flooding back.
He'd been so consumed, he hardly noticed that they had arrived at his humble home. His heart fell as they stood before the door, both hesitating to reach for the latch. Taking a deep breath, Lucas grabbed it, and opened the door.
"Thank you, Your Majesty."
"I told you to stop that." Vin forced his way past Lucas, and into the house. "Where is the tea?"
"What tea?" Lucas spun around, confused.
"The ginger tea. Where is it?"
"You don't have to-" Lucas started.
"Just tell me where the fucking tea is!"
Lucas gestured to the table where a small wooden box sat. Vin grabbed the box and began heating a kettle.
"Go get out of those clothes and get into bed, I'll bring the tea when it's ready." Vin grabbed a—moderately—clean mug and dumped some of the tea into it while he waited for the kettle.
"I believe it would be indecent to undress in the presence of a king." Lucas stated, half smiling.
"Oh, please. My cock has been buried in you more times than I can count. I don't think decency is of any concern at this point." Vin turned to face Lucas just in time to watch him unlace his trousers.
As his pants fell to the floor, he turned his back to the king, and tugged his shirt over his head, exposing his well defined back and firm ass. Vin found himself admiring the knight's god-like physique as he changed into a night shirt. At the risk of getting too excited, the king averted his gaze and, once again, focused on the kettle.
The night air had chilled the mattress, sending shivers up Lucas's spine as he crawled in. As he pulled the blanket over his lap, Vin approached him with the steaming mug. Lucas graciously accepted it, and took a quick sip. It didn't sit as heavily on his tongue as it had that morning. Hopefully that meant the nausea was fading completely.
Vin kicked off his boots, and crawled into bed with Lucas. Gingerly, he rested his head on the knight's solid shoulder.
"My bed is much more comfortable." He joked.
"Your house also doesn't have an unpleasant draft." Lucas laughed.
"Yes, your house is quite chilly without the fire." Vin nuzzled into Lucas's arm. "Luckily, a house this size doesn't take long to heat."
Lucas grunted in acknowledgement as he took another sip of the spicy beverage. He held the mug firmly in his hands, allowing the heat to take the chill off of his body.
"I suppose you should be returning to the party." The knight's voice was low and somber, his attention focused on the twiddling of his thumbs over the mug. Vin pulled away, propping himself up to look into Lucas's eyes.
"Do you want me to?" Vin asked, studying the blonde's face.
After a moment, Lucas produced his answer.
"No."