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Auguste saw the shape Laurent’s life would take years before it happened, and he had no idea how to change it.

It had been easy when he was younger. Everything seemed simple, or as simple as it could be when he was destined to be king: he would grow up strong and he would fight the fights and lead Vere, and he would always have his baby brother safe and sound in Arles. His sweet little brother would never have to worry about anything but riding his pony or reading books, and that would be that.

Even as they got older and Auguste understood better the responsibilities on his shoulders, he held onto a shred of hope that Laurent could stay untouched by it all.

And then Laurent presented as an omega, and Auguste wanted to throw up when he heard.

Aleron was not a bad father, exactly. He was just… well, he was far more focused on being a ruler than on being a father. Maybe it would have been easier if their mother had been around, but instead it was just the three of them, and Auguste knew that their father had never understood Laurent. Auguste, he could handle; Auguste just needed to be polished into a king, something he had been born with a disposition for, but Laurent? Laurent was made of something different.

From the moment his first heat hit, Laurent was destined to be a bargaining chip.

He had clung to Auguste through it and cried whenever Auguste tried to get more than a few feet away from him, even when he’d warned him before he moved a muscle that he was just getting him water or a cool rag to attempt to tamp down his fever. It had broken Auguste’s heart, and he didn’t care about how it made people chatter, that he had tended to his brother. Nothing had happened, and he’d needed to make sure Laurent was okay. He couldn’t let anyone else get to him.

But he’d spent the entire time in a state of low-level dread, though, knowing that this would change things. Had he been an alpha, Laurent would have been able to stick around in Arles. Sure, he wouldn’t have remained unbothered, and he would inevitably have found himself in a political match down the line, but he would have been able to stay in Vere. Whatever omega princess Aleron deemed most beneficial to tie Laurent to would have been brought here to live.

With Laurent himself being an omega, he became, overnight, simultaneously far more valuable, and far more disposable.

It was Auguste’s idea to try to negotiate with Akielos. He had had good intentions, genuinely — he had thought, if Vere and Akielos were no longer at each other’s throats, it would buy more time for Laurent. There would be less pressure on Vere, less need to strike a deal with another kingdom.

Until he started to hear about the alpha crown prince of Akielos and his preferences. Preferences that Laurent, though still a child, would one day perfectly match. Sickly, the fear occurred to Auguste that the man might not care that Laurent was only thirteen. Some considered a child an adult once they had presented; he wasn’t entirely sure on Akielos’ attitudes on this.

Dread, now feeling like an old friend, hung over Auguste as they prepared to head south; to an extent, he would have preferred to go to battle. That, at least, would be predictable.

But they needed this. He needed to make peace for his brother.

“Laurent shouldn’t come,” he’d tried to convince their father, who, predictably, brushed him off.

“And why shouldn’t he?” Aleron asked him.

“In the best case, he will be bored while we negotiate. In the worst, he’s directly endangered by being there,” Auguste tried. “If all three of us are there, and hostilities break out, we run the risk of destabilizing – ”

“Your uncle will remain in Arles, for the worst case scenario,” he said easily. “But we have the strength that if things turn ugly, we could still overpower Akielos.” Before Auguste could raise another argument, he went on, “Have you so little faith in your own case for Akielos’ ability to reach an agreement with us peacefully?”

Auguste did not have an answer for that, and he suspected that even if he had, nothing he might have tried to say would have been enough. It had already been going out on a limb for Aleron to allow him this. “No, Father,” he said. “I just worry for him.”

“You can’t coddle him forever,” Aleron had said, and that was that.

The compromise, at least, was this: Laurent would not be in the tent where negotiations were taking place. He would be a safe distance away from any would-be battlefield, protected by Auguste’s own guard. Safe as possibly could be.

In the end, this meant that Laurent would not be present to look his future husband in the eye as his marriage was arranged, his future traded away in exchange for peace between their nations.

Initially, negotiations were… surprisingly easy. Maybe it spoke to the fatigue that wore on both sides, or maybe it was the underlying memory of the history of the continent, but whatever it was, things were almost smooth. Theomedes and Aleron, at least, had not devolved into aggression; all weapons were left outside, but Auguste knew well enough that a man eager enough to do damage needed no arms.

Auguste felt like little more than decoration throughout most of the encounter – though Aleron trusted him, even though many of the terms to be discussed had been Auguste’s own suggestions, this would be best handled king to king, he said – but it meant he could watch the Akielons. The opportunity to observe one’s enemy was a rare gift.

Damianos was his own father’s shadow. He was seated at his side, quiet, though no less intimidating for it. Were it not for his status as crown prince, Auguste would have thought that he had been brought along for that purpose, as tall and broad as he was. But when he spoke, there was an easy confidence to him, meeting the eyes of anyone who dared to look at him. Auguste got the impression that he could have easily commanded the attention of the entire room if he wanted to, and that that was what he was used to. He had likely never been denied anything. All the same, he felt Damianos’ eyes on him in return, sizing him up just as he had done.

Both Vere and Akielos had to make concessions to the other and all in all, the agreements reached – as far as Auguste was concerned – should have been enough to have both sides content. Not necessarily happy, but content. Neither side lost more than they were willing to, or more than they gained. Reestablishing trade alone was a boon.

It had all appeared like it was going to be simpler than Auguste had feared, easier, until Theomedes had leaned forward against the table, a dare in his eyes. “And how am I to trust that Vere will not turn around and betray every agreement we have just inked? That is in your nature, isn’t it?”

“We entered these negotiations in good faith, just as you have,” Aleron said coolly, his back straightening in his seat.

“So you have,” he said, head tilting. He went quiet for a moment before going on, almost conversationally, “It’s a shame that only one of your sons has joined us today.”

Fear stabbed through Auguste, and he almost rose from his seat. Were the words a threat? Had Laurent already been taken, was he dead at this very moment?

If Aleron was concerned, he did not show it.

“Rumor has it that you have an omega on your hands,” Theomedes went on, sounding more amused than anything. “That must have been quite the shock.”

“Our bloodline has produced only alphas for generations,” he agreed.

“Until your youngest prince.” Raising a brow, the Akielon king said, “You don’t deny it.” When Aleron did not speak, he prodded, “We’re friends now, aren’t we?”

“We are,” he agreed, sounding like it nearly made him ill to say it.

“My son is of an age where he might start to seek a wife,” he said. Behind him, Damianos, who had been quiet up to that point, seemed to startle. “What better way to seal this deal than to bring our families together, no?”

The words were meant to provoke. Auguste could see it, easily. Theomedes did not expect Vere to hand over its second prince, certainly not so readily.

There was no benefit to signing Laurent’s life away; Vere had already come out favorably enough in this, there was nothing to be gained by granting Akielos this. For a moment, Auguste was sure Aleron would balk at the idea just as he did.

Instead, Auguste’s stomach dropped as his father said after a moment’s consideration, “This could be arranged. Enough details for now, this can be discussed after – ”

Theomedes shook his head. “Prince Laurent should come back with us,” he said. “Just to be certain.” As though Laurent were collateral. But there was still a bit of amusement in his features, like all of this was a game.

“No,” Auguste put in quickly, before Aleron could say anything else. He could talk him down from marrying Laurent off to Akielos when he was barely more than a pup, given time, he was sure of that. But the last possible thing he wanted to allow was for Laurent to be placed in their custody.

“He would be treated well,” Theomedes said, turning his head to watch him. Auguste knew he was revealing too much; he had been told plenty of times that a successful ruler needed to be able to keep his emotions close to his chest, especially in Arles. But this was Laurent, and nothing had ever been more important to him. “And don’t you think he and Damianos should be given the opportunity to get to know each other before anyone commits to anything?”

“Father,” Damianos tried behind him, his voice quiet but warning. Auguste thought he could see the outline of his feelings – he did not want this, but he did not want to disobey his father. Or perhaps that was just wishful thinking.

“No, perhaps you’re right,” he said. “Knowing him might be worse. It’s said he’s as beautiful as his mother was.” Another jab, aimed at the tender spot between Auguste’s ribs. “That’s all that matters.”

“He’s a child,” Damianos hissed behind him, a certain terror in his eyes, and it provided Auguste at least some small modicum of comfort.

“For a few more years,” Theomedes said, and why wasn’t Aleron saying anything, and Auguste could hear no more.

He wasn’t even sure that he spoke aloud the words to excuse himself, but it didn’t matter. He was out of the tent and making a direct line for Laurent. It was foolish and he knew it. No matter what else was said in that meeting, Auguste would hear none of it and would be able to do nothing about it, but for now he could be at his brother’s side. Akielos would not have him on this day.

Theomedes was taunting, anyway. A bluff, called. They did not sincerely want Laurent.

It did not go away.

Weeks of meetings and various pushes and pulls on exact terms went by, and an eventual marriage between Damianos and Laurent only became more and more woven into the peace talks.

Auguste wanted to steal Laurent away and hide him somewhere, and he was sorely tempted to, were it not for the fact that doing so would be as good as an act of war.

He could, at least, take solace in knowing that his brother would not be marrying Kastor. It did come up as an alternative, and Damianos had argued against it firmly. Auguste wasn’t sure if he ought to be relieved that Damianos was the one putting his foot down about this point. He certainly didn’t feel it.

In the end, it was agreed: once Laurent was of age, he would go to Ios, and he would wed Damianos of Akielos.

Suddenly, the hazy, unlikely possibility of Laurent one day leaving Arles was an inevitability, and Auguste had only a matter of years before he had to face it.

Telling Laurent was the worst part.

In fairness, Auguste didn’t have to be the one to do it. Anyone could have told Laurent, and he would have had to accept it as his duty to Vere, and that would have been that. But in a much more realistic sense, Auguste knew that it absolutely did have to be him, and no one else.

He waited until they were back in Arles, back in the library, in Laurent’s favorite place.

(He had agonized over this decision, terrified that he was going to ruin it for him, that Laurent would never be able to come back here without thinking about the time Auguste told him his entire life was going to change on him. And then he started to think about the fact that, once Laurent was moved to Ios, there was no telling how often he would even get to see this place again, and that felt even worse.)

“Laurent,” he said as he approached him, in a gentle way that he could see immediately put his brother on edge.

Laurent’s back went straight, but he still took care to mark his place in the book his nose had been buried in before Auguste came in. “Yes?”

“There’s…” he started and then stopped, letting out a soft curse under his breath. “There’s a part of the agreement with Akielos that we should talk about.”

“Okay,” he said slowly, watching Auguste for a moment, waiting.

Auguste tried to comfort himself that this was a good sign, that Laurent’s ability to observe would serve him well in Ios. Maybe it would even be a good thing for Vere, to have eyes on the inside. And then he felt terrible for even thinking of using his brother like that, especially when the entire idea was peace.

“I’m going to try to get you out of it,” he said after a moment. “It’s – there is still time, and there is likely a way to get you out of it.”

“Auguste,” Laurent said, far too patient for his thirteen years. “What is it that you’re getting me out of?”

He could have dragged it out. A part of him wanted to; it felt as though, if he did not say the words aloud, then maybe he could pretend they were not real. But that would be doing Laurent a disservice, so instead he did the next best thing. “Marrying Damianos of Akielos,” he said it plainly, with no further preamble.

Laurent was silent for a moment, and there was some mixture of shock and maybe fear that flickered across his face before he carefully schooled his expression into something neutral again. “I see,” he said slowly.

“It was a nonsensical suggestion, and I’m sure that as things progress – ”

“Was it?” Laurent cut him off to ask, raising an eyebrow. “It’s – I was always going to have to marry eventually, and in this case…” He trailed off, and some of the color had disappeared from his face, and for a moment he actually looked as young as he was. Auguste had forgotten how rare that was to see anymore. When had that changed?

“It didn’t need to come up for years and years, if that,” he said, shaking his head. “You’re a child, you’re supposed to be allowed to enjoy this time.”

“How much time?” he asked.

“What?”

Laurent let out a soft breath. “How long until I’m sent to Akielos?”

“Five years,” he said, the words tasting bitter on his tongue. It should have felt like a long time, but nothing had felt farther from it. “Once you’re of age.”

There was another long silence, and Auguste didn’t know how to handle it. Laurent had never held back on his feelings, not in front of Auguste.

“What do you know about Damianos?” Laurent asked eventually. “You – you met him, didn’t you?”

“I did,” he said with a small nod, suddenly cursing himself for not having spent more time digging into who Laurent’s future husband was as a person. That was entirely his own fault for being in denial about it.

“Then what was he like?”

Suddenly, Auguste was struck by the memory of reading with a younger Laurent, and how starry-eyed he had gotten over some of the tales. He had shied away from this over time since, but when he was little, he had unabashedly loved love. Laurent had loved stories of a prince meeting his match. His eyes slid briefly over to the book that Laurent had been reading; was it a romance? Was there a handsome knight coming to sweep the main character off their feet?

“He seems to be a good man,” he said. Never mind that no man would ever be good enough for Laurent. “Every bit the image of a perfect Akielon warrior, but… not a bad man.”

Laurent just nodded, his expression unreadable, and Auguste wished desperately that he had more to give him than this. He wished he had an entirely different life for him.

For lack of anything better to do, he pulled Laurent into his arms, hugging him close as his little brother pretended not to cry.

“I won’t let him have you,” he told him softly. It was not a claim he should have made, knowing he would not be able to keep it, but he wanted so badly for it to be true.

Much to their father’s chagrin, Auguste dedicated as much time as he possibly could to Laurent in the years between when he was promised to Damianos and when that promise would be fulfilled. Together, they studied Akielos: its language, its customs. He wanted to be sure that if his brother was being thrown to the lions, that he had every tool in his arsenal necessary to protect himself. Laurent was clever, after all, and he would find a way to thrive in Ios. Auguste had to believe that.

But that didn’t mean he wasn’t also going to quite literally arm him.

Laurent hadn’t, initially, had much interest in sparring, and he never had, but it seemed that even he could understand the utility of it. He was a quick study.

“You’re going to keep a knife close at all times,” he told a seventeen-year-old Laurent after dinner one evening, “just in case. Keep it on your person, tuck it under your pillow at night, whatever you need to do.”

“You’re starting to sound paranoid,” his brother informed him, turning over the dagger he had given him, weighing how it felt in his hand.

“I’m sounding cautious,” he corrected, though the look on Laurent’s face told him that he did not believe that distinction. “If Damianos lays a hand on you, you’ll plunge that knife into his chest.”

“You described him once as being massive,” Laurent pointed out.

“And?”

Raising a brow, Laurent gestured at himself. He wasn’t quite the scrawny thing that he had once been, and he’d filled out well over the past few years, but admittedly, no, he did not cut an intimidating figure. The omega softness to his body did not help this.

“He’ll underestimate you,” Auguste said, shaking his head. “You are a good fighter. And you’re faster than him, I guarantee that. More clever, too, no doubt.”

“He will be my husband,” he said then. No matter how long this had been the truth, Auguste still couldn’t quite accept it – Laurent might be older now, but he is still far, far too young to even be thinking of having a husband, much less actually being betrothed to the heir of Akielos. “It will be expected for him to touch me.”

“He will be your husband, not your mate. Those are the terms of the deal,” he said, as if Laurent were not already entirely aware of this. A marriage was one thing; being mated would give Damianos power over Laurent that would be unacceptable.

“He will still expect to touch me,” he said. “And pray tell, what happens after I murder my husband in cold blood? I run away to Vask to avoid the war I will have just started all over again?”

“Maybe somewhere farther would be better,” Auguste suggested. “But it wouldn’t be necessary. You could make the whole thing look like an accident.”

“I would make a knife wound look like an accident?”

In spite of himself, Auguste had to laugh. “Perhaps not that.”

In the end, Laurent had moved closer to him, leaning into Auguste’s side. “You worry too much,” he said. “I will not be miserable in Ios, or I will not stay.”

Auguste hoped it was the truth.

It all still felt extremely wrong when the wedding happened, even though Laurent had grown into a young man, no longer a child.

He seemed more upset than Laurent was about the whole thing, though he knew well enough by now how good he was at concealing his emotions.

“You can still run,” he had joked with Laurent before the ceremony, and Laurent had just given him a sad little smile.

“No, I can’t,” he had said. It made Auguste want to be sick; Laurent knew duty, of course he did, and he would do anything that was needed of him, but why this? Couldn’t there have been any other price for him to pay?

Laurent had stepped closer to him then, reaching out and giving his shoulder a squeeze. “Don’t look so upset. It’s my wedding day.”

And he hadn’t had it in him to say that yes, that was exactly the problem, even though they both knew it.

Auguste did manage to corner Damianos at one point in the evening, as the festivities were in full swing. Laurent was not by his side, and Auguste wondered briefly if he had taken the first opportunity to sneak off on his own. Good for him.

“Damianos Exalted,” he called out as he approached him.

Each time that Auguste saw Damianos, he convinced himself that he had misremembered him; he cast such a shadow over Laurent’s life, after all, so it made sense that maybe Auguste had inflated him in his mind. But no, he was every bit as tall and broad as he remembered him. Today he looked like something straight out of a history book, larger than life and well-dressed. As was only fitting for his wedding day.

“Your Highness,” Damianos said back, looking at him with an expression that was hard to decipher. He almost looked a little frightened.

“Please, call me Auguste,” he said, forcing a smile onto his face. “We’re family now.”

“So we are,” he agreed, nodding slightly, then echoed, “Auguste, then.”

For a moment, neither of them spoke. There were a great many things that Auguste wanted to say to this man, not all of which would be acceptable, especially given that a day would come when they were both kings. Damianos already was; his father had passed a year prior, and Auguste had privately felt a certain satisfaction come with that knowledge. Theomedes had been the architect behind this marriage, and Auguste would not mourn him.

To his surprise, Damianos was the first to speak.

“I know you are unhappy about this marriage,” he said.

Auguste didn’t say anything at first, simply waiting, bringing his cup to his lips to take a slow sip of wine.

“And I can’t blame you for that,” Damianos went on, when it was clear that Auguste wasn’t going to speak, wasn’t going to absolve Damianos of anything. “It isn’t exactly my preference, either.”

“Isn’t exactly your preference,” he echoed, his eyes narrowing as he looked at the man, trying to piece together what he meant by it, and whether he ought to be offended on Laurent’s behalf. Damianos should have considered himself blessed to have Laurent. “But you didn’t do anything to get out of it, even once your father passed.” Belatedly, he added, “I was sorry to hear.”

To his credit, Damianos did at least look chagrined. “I should have looked into it,” he said, after waving off Auguste’s sloppily-added condolences. “But especially so close to taking the throne myself, I didn’t want to do anything that would rock the boat or make my position look unsteady.”

Auguste considered this for a moment before nodding. “I suppose I can understand that.”

“I don’t want things to go back to the way they were between our kingdoms,” he said.

“That makes two of us.”

“So you understand why I wouldn’t want to unintentionally insult Vere with the implication that Laurent is not good enough for me.”

Nodding, Auguste tamped down the part of him that felt like Damianos shouldn’t even say Laurent’s name. They were married as of this evening, after all; he had not yet truly earned that familiarity, but maybe it was expected. “I still don’t care for it,” he said eventually, though he knew it made him sound like a petulant child.

“I know,” Damianos said. “And I know that you have no reason to take me at my word, but I can promise you, I will treat him with every bit of respect and dignity that he deserves.”

Auguste searched the man’s face for a moment, trying to spot any hint of deception in his words; Laurent had always been better than him at that. But Akielons were straightforward as a rule, weren’t they?

“Good,” he said. “He’s – that is the absolute least he deserves.”

“I know he is very precious to you,” he said. “And I can see why.”

Auguste opened his mouth to ask him what exactly he meant by that, but an Akielon that he did not recognize came up and swept Damianos away, shoving a drink in his hand.

He spent the rest of the evening looking for another window to get Damianos alone, to put the proper fear into him if he didn’t treat Laurent properly, but there was never an opportunity.

And then, at the end of the night, Laurent was whisked away to his and Damianos’ new shared quarters, and a part of Auguste felt like it had shriveled up like a neglected plant.

Aleron died a few months after Laurent left.

It was sudden, and just like that, Auguste was king. Auguste was king, and he was alone, and he had to figure out what that truly meant for him, and he could not dwell on worrying about how his brother was doing on the other end of the continent.

He managed well enough, he was fairly certain of that. Even if he had still expected to have years before the crown rested upon his head, he had been preparing for this for essentially his entire life now. The council remained more or less the same as it had been for years; they had served Aleron well, and there was no reason to make too many changes all at once.

He wrote to Laurent – and to Damianos — as often as he could manage, and letters came back regularly enough. Nothing in them helped to paint a full picture for him of what things might look like between them. Was Laurent miserable? There was no way to tell from the letters, as vague as they were. When he suggested that Laurent could make a visit back to Arles, it had been brushed off; was Damianos keeping him stuck there? Was he intentionally isolating him?

By the time things were settled enough for Auguste to leave Vere long enough for a visit to Akielos’ capital, Laurent had been married for about a year and a half. It was far, far too long to have gone without seeing his brother — without knowing that his brother was alright — and he was admittedly a bit afraid of what he would find.

That fear only mounted when Laurent was not immediately there to greet him when he arrived at the palace in Ios.

Upon his arrival, Auguste was whisked off to a quiet room where he sat with just Damianos. The room itself was decorated somewhat sparsely but warmly, as seemed to be the case in Akielos, but the atmosphere was still uncomfortable.

“You arrived sooner than expected,” Damianos told him, gesturing a servant forward to pour water for them both. “I’ve sent for Laurent to be notified of your arrival, and I don’t doubt he’ll come running.”

“It was good weather for traveling this morning, so I got an early start,” he explained himself, though the truth had been more that he had been eager to get here and he’d pushed for that early start – so early it was practically the night before – more than was, perhaps, strictly necessary.

“Of course.”

“Where is he?” Auguste asked. It felt a little wrong, to even think that Laurent wouldn’t have just been sitting around waiting for him to show up, knowing Auguste was expected to arrive today.

“He’s out for a ride,” he answered. “He likes to get out early in the day before it gets too hot.”

That did sound right, although… It didn’t bode well if Laurent spent hours each day out on horseback just for the sake of getting away from his husband. “He rides every day?”

Damianos shrugged. “Not every day, but plenty of the time,” he said. “I join him when I can.”

Before Auguste could quite stop himself, he asked, “And he wants you to?”

“He does,” he said, evidently taking the words in good spirit, a little laugh falling from his lips. “He doesn’t always say it, but he does.”

That was a statement Auguste wasn’t entirely sure he knew what to do with. Laurent could be hard to read, yes, but he was never shy about voicing his wants or, perhaps more relevantly, if anything displeased him. Was Damianos making assumptions and, worse, was Laurent suddenly holding back?

“How is he?” he couldn’t help but ask. He was sure he would get a more honest answer from Laurent when he saw him, but he couldn’t wait another moment without hearing it.

“Laurent?” Damianos asked, as if Auguste could be asking about anyone else. When he nodded, the man answered, “He’s doing well. Handling Ios better than I had ever imagined he would, even if he did have to keep indoors for most of the summer.”

“Good,” he said with a small nod, satisfied. “And the two of you are getting along?”

For just a moment, Damianos’ initial answer was just an almost giddy-looking smile until it settled into something more neutral. “Yes, I would say we are,” he said.

“He’s happy?”

“I’ve seen no sign otherwise,” he said.

“And you’ve been paying attention for it? Laurent isn’t always the easiest.”

“I have been watching, yes,” Damianos answered calmly.

The door behind Auguste opened then, and he watched as Damianos straightened, that smile returning to his lips for a moment. He turned around, unsurprised to find Laurent entering the room.

What was surprising, however, was Laurent’s appearance. He was still dressed in Veretian fashion, which made sense, but there was just something… different about him, now. His shoulders looked a little looser, and there was just a bit of a tan to his skin. Auguste hadn’t even known that was possible. His scent seemed happy, nothing bitter or upset about it, unless that was something that Laurent had learned to fake as well.

“Auguste,” he said as he crossed the room to him, wrapping him up in a hug without hesitation.

“Laurent,” Auguste said, just as eager to wrap his arms around him in return. Was he more muscular than he had been before? At least he wasn’t thinner, that was something. When he pulled back, he took a moment to take in the sight of Laurent, still holding him close for a moment. There were even a few faint freckles dotting the bridge of his nose. “You look well.”

“I am,” he said, giving Auguste’s arm a small squeeze before pulling back. Was it reassurance, or a silent signal that the words were a lie? He could practically hear Laurent’s voice, from years ago, in the back of his mind: You’re starting to sound paranoid.

“I’m glad to hear it,” he said.

“How was the journey down here?” Laurent asked. “I didn’t think you would make it until closer to the evening.” There was a little bit of teasing in his eyes.

“Well, if I could steal a few more hours here with you, that seemed like a worthwhile effort,” he said.

When Laurent went to sit, he placed himself at Damianos’ side, his thigh touching his husband’s knee. Casual. Auguste had never known him to welcome anyone’s touch other than his own, or their parents’ when he was younger; he always shied away from anyone else.

But it didn’t stop there. As the three of them spoke, Laurent’s behavior made it clear that he was far more comfortable with Damianos than he had expected. But then, they had been married over a year, at least some level of camaraderie wasn’t too strange, was it?

That didn’t make it any less surprising to see Laurent leaning closer to Damianos as he spoke, or touching his hand. Or, when a servant brought them a light meal – there would be a more formal feast to welcome him that night, but they needed something to tide them over, or Damianos would be a terrible host – nothing could have prepared Auguste for the sight of Laurent hand feeding Damianos a piece of fruit.

Or when, as he directed a question towards Damianos, Laurent called him Damen.

It was strange, though he could admit that it wasn’t in a bad way. If Laurent truly did have this level of comfort with Damianos, that was a good thing.

Auguste felt as though he had hardly participated in the conversation, too busy caught up in simply observing Laurent, by the time Damianos suggested that he might want to wash up and relax for a while before the evening’s activities, and he couldn’t argue with that. He could still feel the road on him.

Still, he hesitated, not quite wanting to let Laurent out of his sight again, not so soon after seeing him again for the first time in practically two years.

“I’ll come get you for dinner later,” Laurent told him, as if sensing his reluctance. “You’ll be fine for a few hours.”

“If I slip and fall alone in my rooms, you’ll feel terrible later.”

“I won’t,” he hummed, smirking up at him. “Then I’ll inherit Vere, and what more could a man really want?”

“Um,” Damianos said, looking between them with a bit of concern in his expression.

Laurent laughed, a gentle sound. Easily given. “Don’t fret, husband,” he said, his hand lifting briefly to rest on Damianos’ bicep briefly. The word ‘husband’ was spoken in Akielon. “If I actually wanted Auguste dead, he would have been years ago.”

“Not comforting.”

“Comforting enough,” he said. “I’m not greedy. I already have Akielos.” He leaned up and patted Damianos on the cheek, and that was the image that lingered in Auguste’s mind as he was led off to his guest room by a servant.

The more that Auguste thought about it, the more it actually did make sense: Laurent was smart. He was resourceful. Really, it only made sense if he was going to be sent off to Akielos for him to then look at his husband king and decide he was here to conquer. Maybe that was what Auguste was witnessing: Laurent giving Damianos enough affection to keep him happy and maintain the appearance of sweet, besotted omega.

When viewing it all through that lens, it sat easier with Auguste.

It also made it make sense that his letters didn’t suggest anything was afoot; it would have been too easy for their correspondence to be intercepted, and admitting outright that he had King Damianos’ testicles in a box probably would not have gone over well.

August had just about managed to comfort himself with that explanation of things when Laurent arrived that afternoon to lead him down for dinner.

Laurent was in a chiton.

More of his skin was on display than Auguste could remember seeing, other than when Laurent was a small child who had had no concept of indecency. He was always careful about being covered up; he liked to keep a certain physical distance from other people, and he was fairly certain that keeping almost every inch of his body below his head covered was part of that.

But today his skin was on display. His feet were clad in sandals, of all things, and that same tan was everywhere, not just his face, and –

“Oh,” Auguste let out as his eyes landed on Laurent’s neck. At the bond mark that was resting there, dark against his fairer skin. “Oh, Laurent.”

Laurent brought his hand up to his neck, palm briefly obscuring his mating gland. When he pulled his hand back, his fingertips lightly trailed over the skin. “Don’t sound so upset,” he said.

“He wasn’t supposed to do that,” Auguste said, his eyes still lingering on the mark. It was fully healed, and looked like it had been for months, probably. How long had Damianos waited before claiming Laurent? Was it better or worse if it had happened immediately? It looked deep.

“I asked him to,” he said simply.

“You didn’t have to do that,” he protested, shaking his head. “If this is about – Laurent, if you want to have control over an alpha, you definitely don’t have to give him your neck.”

“Of course not. That’s the kind of power move you can only use once,” he said, amused. “You think I would waste it on Damen?”

There was that nickname again. Damen. Laurent’s mate, Damen.

“Then what is it?” he asked.

Laurent let out a soft breath, taking hold of Auguste’s hand and leading him to sit. “You have always fussed,” he commented, equal parts exasperated and fond.

“I just don’t understand.”

“Damen is a good man, as you yourself said,” he said. “A gentle giant, as it happens.”

“Gentle?” Auguste echoed, raising a brow.

“More often than not.”

“I’ve heard stories about the devastation he can leave behind on a battlefield, don’t – ”

“Convenient, then, that our marriage bed is not a battlefield,” Laurent said, shaking his head. Leaning back against the couch he’d settled them on, he said, “I understand where you’re coming from. I do. I thought, when I came to Ios, that I could hate him.”

“And no one could blame you for that,” he assured him.

“No. No one could, least of all himself,” he said. “He was beside himself with guilt, you know. For some time after our wedding, he could hardly bring himself to look at me. Certainly not touch me.”

Auguste nodded slowly, willing to just listen to Laurent explain.

“So, to be clear, he did not force himself on me,” he said. “I practically had to force myself on him, instead.”

“That’s… surprising,” he settled on the word after a moment. It was surprising, from multiple angles – Damianos had had a reputation, after all, while Laurent had never seemed interested in sex at all, and it wasn’t as though Auguste expected that he was saving himself for marriage. Not in this case.

“It was,” he said. “I thought all I would have to do was bat my lashes at him, leave my hair loose maybe, and he would be all mine. But he made me work for it.”

“I don’t know if I need to know this part.”

“You do,” Laurent said, shaking his head. “Because all that work amounted to, in the end, was directly telling him that I wanted him. Any other seduction attempts fell flat on their face.”

“Ah,” he said. “I’m… sorry.”

Chuckling, his brother shook his head. “You’re not,” he said. “It made my first heat here miserable, you know. I’ve never known what it is to want and not get.”

He wouldn’t have called Laurent spoiled, but - maybe that was right.

But Auguste did have to at least seize on that comment. “He took care of you in other ways, though, right? I don’t mean – I’m talking about your other wants, and needs,” he said. “If he mistreated you in any way…”

“He didn’t,” Laurent said firmly. “From the start, he has been… I hesitate to call him perfect, but I don’t have another word for it.” His words got softer at the end, and for a moment, Auguste saw a much younger Laurent, believer in fairytales.

“You really do feel that much for him?”

“It terrified me at first,” he admitted. “I didn’t speak to him for a week after I realized I loved him.”

Oh.

Maybe the signs were all there. The affection between them earlier, the fact that Laurent had accepted a bondmark and had not left clawmarks on Damianos for it. Or maybe even just the almost tender way that Laurent seemed to speak of Damianos, his voice soft around the edges.

“You love him,” he said softly, almost questioning his own hearing.

“I love him,” he affirmed. “I had barely been here for a season before I reached that point. He has that effect.”

They were quiet for a moment, those words settling over Auguste. They felt strange, but at the same time, he could believe it. It certainly would make things easier in dealing with Akielos, not hating the king by virtue of how he treated his spouse.

“You really are happy here?” he asked, just to be sure. “You like Akielos?”

“I miss real winters, and the cuisine sometimes leaves something to be desired,” Laurent said with a small shrug. “But I’m happy here.”

“I’m glad,” he said. “I could see about getting the staff here some recipes from our kitchens back home.”

“Damen is ahead of you there,” he said. “He’s already brought in chefs from Vere.”

“Oh?”

“He’s eager,” he said, shaking his head. “Anything to make me happy, it seems.”

“That isn’t a bad thing,” Auguste said.

“No. No, it is not,” he agreed, letting out a soft sigh. “I’m letting him get away with far more than I ever thought I would.”

“Like biting you?” he asked, his eyes trailing back to the side of his neck. He wasn’t sure he would ever get used to seeing it; the ring on his hand was one thing, but this felt bigger, more permanent.

Laurent shook his head. “No. I told you, that was something I brought up,” he said. “If you look, he has one too.”

“Oh,” Auguste said, surprised. He hadn’t been looking, but he was surprised he had missed it regardless. “Is that traditional in Akielos?” It certainly wasn’t in Vere.

“Not very, no,” he said. “His kyros Nikandros nearly had a fit when he saw.”

“But it’s alright?”

“It’s alright,” he said. “No one would argue against what their king wants.”

“Not if they know what is good for them,” he teased.

Laurent rolled his eyes. “You are not the type to rule with an iron fist,” he said. “And nor is he. I think that you’ll like him, once you give him a proper chance.”

“I’ve given him a chance,” he tried, though the look Laurent gave him then told him that he knew perfectly well that Auguste hadn’t. He’d hated Damianos on principle, for years now. “Alright, alright. I’ll give him a chance now. I swear it.”

“Good,” he said with a small nod, satisfied. Humming, he went on, “I would hate for my husband and my brother not to get along. Imagine how uncomfortable that would be if we had children.”

Auguste’s spine startled straight, his eyes darting down Laurent’s body again. “You’re not…?”

“No. Relax, no, I am not,” he said, shaking his head. “But I’ve been thinking about it. We’ve been talking about it. I wouldn’t be surprised if that changes in the next year or so.”

That was no small shock. Never had Laurent expressed any interest in going through pregnancy. The opposite, really. August had always assumed that if it was something he ended up doing – most likely out of obligation – that it would be years from now.

This version of Laurent, though, maybe he could see it. He seemed lighter here in Ios, happy. And he had always been so good with the things he cared most about; he had carried around one of their hounds as a puppy and spoiled it as though it were a baby, and he’d pouted when it had grown too big for him to lift. Maybe it was in his nature to nurture.

“Come on, big brother,” Laurent said, a little smile on his lips as he got back to his feet, not giving him a chance to properly digest the news he had just dropped on his lap. “I hear there is a whole feast being prepared in your honor.”

At dinner, he didn’t hover over Laurent as he thought that he might. He didn’t threaten to drag him home as he feared he might need to. Instead, he watched the way Laurent and Damianos moved together, familiar. Anticipating each other, and always finding the other where they expected them to be, like it just fit.

Auguste watched as a flushed, slightly intoxicated Laurent tugged on his husband’s arm for him to bend so that he could whisper something in his ear, saw the absolute fondness in Damianos’ face as he rolled his eyes at whatever it was, and he saw it.

Laurent would be fine.