Chapter Text
Damen smiled across at Nikandros, riding forwards at the head of the Akielon delegation. His ageing father was not well enough to travel the entire length of the country, and so he had sent both his sons, and their retinues, in response to the Veretian Prince’s request.
It had been two years since the Veretian Prince had returned. There were rumours, of course. Vere was a vipers’ nest, and it thrived on rumours. Damen had heard a dozen contradictory stories. But what the truth appeared to be was that after the battle at Marlas, in which the King and Crown Prince of Vere had both died, the King’s brother had taken control. For a couple of years he had kept the young prince close, but then he had sent him to be executed. By chance, the boy had escaped, and regained the throne with the help of a northern Regent.
In a week’s time, the Veretian Prince would reach twenty one - the age at which Veretians could take the throne. He had sent requests to various nations to send ambassadors - the Vaskian Empress was sending a delegation of her daughters, and the Patrans were sending Torveld. He and Kastor were to visit also. The Veretian Prince who would be King was aiming to build strong ties with his neighbours from the start. The work of his Regent over the past two years to strengthen their relationships was encouraging. So too were the communications from the future king, who had warned of his own uncle’s interference in Akielon affairs, and in doing so prevented an attempt on the life of the current King.
Nikandros looked at Damen, and seemed far less amused than Damen himself was. They had been in the saddle for much of the past three days, when their boat had reached the Veretian coast at Marches, and Nikandros was tiring of it. “It seems like a great deal of effort. The Kingsmeet is simpler.”
“The Veretians enjoy their dramatics,” Damen said with an indulgent smile.
“And Akielons have had infants who rule better than their adult rulers.” Nikandros answered.
“You will feel better when you no longer have to ride,” Damen teased his friend. Nikandros stared at him calmly.
“You know,” Nikandros said softly, speaking in Veretian, “your brother has little skill with the language here.”
“I know,” Damen replied in the same tongue, glancing back at his older brother, who was riding with the soldiers. “He will manage. The Prince has written to me in Akielon.”
Nikandros nodded, then frowned. “Is that-” He raised a hand, pointing ahead.
Damen frowned, staring at the confection of a building rising out from the small town that was in the distance. It was nothing like the straight sense of Ios, or the forts of northern Akielos and southern Vere. It appeared to be nothing so much as a pile of columns and filigree and curliques, all stacked together in impossible angles in order to create a building that was more ornament than sense.
Both Akielons had heard, of course, of Veretian excess. Damen had witnessed it on the field at Marlas, the impractical tents and glittering armour. It was quite something else to witness it made in stone. It did not look like a building that should be. It was strange, unnatural upon the landscape. And yet - it promised the kinds of luxuries that he was accustomed to as a prince, and he pushed forwards, hurrying his horse along and knowing the others would match his pace.
He looked forwards to meeting the Veretian Prince, and seeing which of the rumours about him were true.
The first thing that Damen observed about the prince, once he and his retinue had bathed and been shown into the grand marble hall, was that he was blond and beautiful. Rumours spoke of his beauty, but they underestimated it.
There were a great many lords around - far fewer women than was common in Akielos, but men with the beautiful flighty pets of Vere on their arms, and a scattering of Veretian soldiers. And on the raised dais, there was a throne, where the Veretian prince sat indolently. At his side, there was a man who was dressed in brown, standing rather than occupying a throne. Lord Berenger of Varenne, the man who had supported the Prince and been rewarded richly for it. And at the Prince’s feet, dressed in blue silks, was a redheaded creature wearing more jewels than you would see on an Akielon Kyros. Nearby, there was a boy of thirteen or fourteen, standing with his own guard, and staring at the Akielons with curiosity.
Damen’s attention was mostly focused upon the prince, as it was the prince that was the most striking man there, with a beauty greater than that of the pets that were around. Damen had heard that a few years previously, Veretian nobility knew only how to entertain itself by watching their pets fucking. Such things were less popular with this new prince, which had produced a sudden flood of culture previously unknown to Vere. The blond prince looked up at him, and Damen nodded his head slightly.
The man at his feet was frowning. Damen chose to ignore him, even though in Akielos a slave would never look so miserable.
It concerned him, the sheer aggression in the pet's expression. In Akielos, slaves knew to avert their eyes. And here - this man was looking at him, and it was - it was a glare. Not mere dislike, even, but a degree of anger.
People did not glare at Damen. Not simply because he was a prince, but because he was respected, friendly. He tried to put his concern for the other man aside and focus on the Veretian youth that was slouched against his throne. "Akielos is glad to attend your Ascension, your Highness."
The youth looked up at him with a cool expression. "Vere welcomes you. I hope that your accommodations are to your liking, and I look forward to the opportunity to speak with you later."
"They are. Your servants have been most helpful." It was strange, the Veretian servants who looked at him differently - respectful, yes, but the kind of respect that they would show any Lord they were asked to serve. They knew nothing of Akielon culture. It had been agreed, however, that there would be only three slaves brought on the trip to Vere, a careful calculation between Damen who was used to getting whatsoever he wished, and the Veretian prince who had no wish for slavery on his lands. Damen and his brother both had one of their household. and the Lady Jokaste had one to assist her dressing and to style her hair in the Akielon way, so different from how the Veretians wore their own hair that she could not hope for Veretian help. Veretian men wore their hair short, and the ladies had it down in curls.
At least it was not wigs. A few decades ago, there were rumours that Veretians had taken a taste for wigs in order to disguise a king's baldness. Damen could not imagine any such thing - it seemed ludicrous that a king could be ashamed of their appearance. Now, the Veretian men were mostly cleanshaven - a step away from the man who had briefly usurped the throne. On some of the lords, it looked rather foolish.
"Good. You must speak to them if things are not as to your liking," the prince said, and managed to include a note in his voice which bordered upon insult. "You must not expect them to read your mind."
"I understand," he said calmly. "Thank you for your hospitality."
"Thank you for travelling such a long way, Prince Damianos." There was a hint of emotion in the prince's voice there, more than just his calm attitude, and the pet at his feet seemed to twist, resting a hand against the prince's ankle over his ornately laced boots.
Damen inclined his head again, and moved to the side to the Regent, wondering how long it had taken for Laurent to be laced into such ridiculous shoes. "Thank you for your welcome."
"Thank you, Prince Damianos," the man said. He was surprisingly unimportant in appearance. No one looking at him would have thought that for two years he had been the one who was in charge, working alongside the prince to rebuild a destroyed country and offer it greatness. "We do appreciate that the two Akielon princes are here."
Even as the man spoke, Damen could see the displeasure on the faces of some of the crowd. He had been warned of this - that there were people here who would judge his brother for his illegitimacy. And yet the prince had been clear - he had asked for the princes both to come, so that Vere could see that illegitimate children were not by their very nature cursed. The prince disliked illegitimacy, but wished to secure more safety for children so born. Another of his changes.
Damen nodded, and smiled. "It is an honour to be invited. Under the past two years, our nations have grown closer than they have been since Artesia."
"All the work of the prince," the man demurred. "I am Lord Berenger, as I believe you know."
"I know," Damen agreed, aware the man had a right to a royal title due to his position but had disdained it. "I do hope that this will be the start of a grander union between our countries." It was not perfect. It was far from perfect - the death of the past Crown Prince hung between them, and so to did the plot that the new Crown Prince had interrupted. But this mattered. Damen was determined to make his visit a success, to woo the nation and increase prosperity. He owed it to the citizens of Akielos, and he was determined that he would succeed.
The young boy that was standing nearby was eyeing him with dislike that matched that of the redhead. Damen said little, stepping back so his brother could stumble his way through a few off the necessary niceties and he could return to his room.
Erasmus was there, sitting on a cushion and strumming on a kithara, although as Damen approached he lowered his forehead to the floor. For a moment, Damen entertained the idea of asking Erasmus to discover what the problem was, but he dismissed it immediately - Erasmus was not made for subterfuge. To send him to speak to a Veretian pet would be the same as sending him into a lion's den. Worse, perhaps - there were stories of boys whose sweetness had saved them from being savaged by wild animals, but not by Veretian pets.
"I shall be going for a walk," he informed his slave. "You shall accompany me."
Erasmus obeyed, standing flawlessly. He left his kithara on the cushion where he had been seated.
"I shall arrange for you to play before the Veretian court," Damen told him. He was unsure whether or not Vere would appreciate the skill of Akielon music, but he felt generous.
Erasmus flushed softly and nodded, sticking a few steps behind as Damen wandered the corridors. The place was a maze.
He thought of stories from long ago, of monsters concealed within labyrinths, and he wondered if the same architect who had created the labyrinth had fashioned the palace of Arles. The labyrinth had never been mentioned as a particular pile of excess, and yet such a thing was not impossible.
Damen was relieved when a door opened to reveal the gardens before him. The ornate flowers and unnecessarily shaped hedges were rather an irritation to his Akielon sensibilities, and yet they were still a relief after the ornamentation of inside. He had begun to develop a headache.
He wandered through the gardens, and was startled to intrude upon a couple. They did not react at all to his presence, continuing with their endeavours, and he was left with uncertainty over whether he should apologise, or simply leave them to their union. He chose to back away, thinking that perhaps the two men had been so caught in their own actions that they had missed his arrival, presence and departure.
Erasmus said nothing, although the tips of his ears had turned pink.
Another corner, and he found himself faced by the boy he had seen earlier, a guard close at his side.
"Laurent likes me," the boy said quickly. "So if you or any of your lot hurt me, he'll cut your cock off." And then he turned and walked away, his guard following.
Damen flushed, glad that Erasmus could not comprehend Veretian, and stood blinking after the boy. He had never been spoken to in such a way.
There was a movement ahead, and the Veretian Prince walked towards him, alone. Damen was struck again by the man's beauty, the way he looked more like a statue than a man. Still, he said nothing, merely nodded a greeting.
"I see," the prince said, "that you have met Nicaise. He tends to cause stunned silence."
Damen wracked his mind for the correct etiquette in a moment like this, and came up short.