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His scouts and... less conventional resources keep Aglovale apprised of his little brother's progress: hearing of Wales' plans while still in Feendrache, quarreling with his vassals and dismissing them to keep them out of harm's way, crossing the countryside alone and still stopping to enforce order where necessary. Missing him had been a quiet, dormant feeling deep in Aglovale's heart until the reports started coming in, and then Percival's approach became his most intense craving. Father and Mother are gone, and he was never quite as close with Lamorak, even before they went their separate ways; Percival is the most precious person left to him in all the world.
He can't deny, then, the way his heart leaps in his chest when one of the castle guards announces Percival's arrival. He rises to his feet as Percival crosses the threshold and smiles as his brother bends a knee. "I have returned, brother," Percival says.
"You've done well to come back, Percival," Aglovale says. "It's been far too long." He knows the answer to the next question but asks anyway: "Have you any retinue who will need somewhere to stay?"
"No," Percival says. "For all that I'd love for you to meet my vassals one day, I wanted this to be a personal visit rather than something more formal."
"I understand." Things will be so much simpler this way; it's as if Percival already knows, at some level, that nothing should come between them. "Welcome home, in any case. I'm sure you'll want to freshen up after your travels, but will you meet me afterward for supper? We have much to discuss."
"We certainly do," Percival says, with a hint of sternness that he couldn't manage when he was younger. He's going to need convincing. "By your leave, brother."
Aglovale nods. He watches his confident little brother leave the throne room, feeling the blue-black throb of power at his fingertips. That strength Percival has grown into is admirable. But it won't come into its true value until it's his.
They reconvene in the smaller family-only dining room; Percival has changed out of his traveling clothes into a more relaxed ensemble, trousers in his favored crimson and a soft black tunic that bares his throat and a tantalizing fraction of his chest. Aglovale isn't certain whether that's meant to be a flirtatious gesture or simply an unthinking one, but that bare skin is hard to ignore. The idea of other people seeing him so, having such easy access to his beauty, is untenable.
Aglovale is so distracted by such thoughts, he's barely paying attention to the conversation, let alone the first course. But partway through the second, Percival sets down his silverware, the knife chiming sharply against his plate, and looks Aglovale in the eyes. "Forgive me my impatience, brother, but there is a question I must ask you, and it brooks no delay."
"Please, speak freely." Aglovale sets down his goblet and listens. His brother's eyes are like jewels, capturing fire in their shining depths.
"You know of the recent attacks on Feendrache," Percival says. "There are rumors that the House of Wales was behind them."
Aglovale nods.
When that's his only response, Percival goes on, "Is there any truth to that?"
Aglovale draws up the power of the Key around himself; it's still incomplete, but even so it's served to make men listen when he speaks. "Of course."
Percival goes pale. "What?"
"Oh, don't look at me like that. It was inevitable. It pains me to be at war, but this is the path I've been on—the path we've been on, as a nation, as a family—for years. To unite people, a strong leader must take charge, even over the objections of those who don't yet understand."
"But... To condone such bloodshed..." He's fighting against the magic, brave Percival with such noble strength of will, more able to resist than most. He mustn't leave again. He must recognize that his place is here, with Aglovale, who loves him best.
More power, then, to break down that resistance. A proof of concept here between them, as it will be between Wales and the skies. "Let me show you why it's inevitable," Aglovale says. "Let me show you our inheritance."
"Our inheritance?" Percival repeats. He looks concerned.
Aglovale rises from the table. "Follow me."
The fine threads of power between them are enough for him to feel that Percival is following as he leaves the dining room and makes his way down to the locked cellar chamber where his most crucial work is done. The torchlight shows his masterpiece, the complex patterns of the greater magic circle and the pulsing, beating heart of the Key taking shape at its center.
"What is that thing?" Percival breathes. There's still some fear in him yet; this will need to be done carefully.
"The power that will make Wales stand proud, first among the nations of the Sky." Aglovale lays a hand on Percival's shoulder—gods, his skin so close beneath that thin shirt—and says, "Percival, look at me. You know me."
"I'm not sure that I do," Percival says, but he does look, and that's enough to let Aglovale capture his attention and hold it fast. Fascination was always Percival's gift, not his, but the Otherworld has taught him so much.
His lieutenants stretch out tentacles from the Key and grasp Percival's limbs; he shudders but doesn't fight them, reactions muted by the temporary charm.
Aglovale pulls off one glove. He doesn't need to, but he wants the purity of touch. He slides his bare hand into the low V of Percival's shirt and presses his palm flat over Percival's heart. "You've come, my dear brother. Now stay where you belong."
He channels his new power into that touch, searing a mark onto Percival's chest, a circle smaller and simpler than the one on the floor around them but still potent enough to bind that beautiful body to his will. Percival cries out as though in pain, his eyes going wide, his body tense, but the bond takes.
"Aglovale," he gasps. "What are you doing?"
"Don't play coy," Aglovale chides. "You know very well." He takes Percival's face in both hands and leans in to kiss him. Percival's lips are ever so soft, but he's trembling and tense in his bonds, as though he wants to pull away. Aglovale infuses the new mark with power, waking the need that must slumber in his brother's heart, and is rewarded with a lost, sweet moan that makes him press closer.
Percival's lips part for him and he explores with his tongue, tasting every precious nuance of Percival's mouth. This is what he wants. This is how they should be. The tentacles slither and flex, pulling tighter, spreading Percival's limbs wide to give Aglovale the chance to touch him everywhere. Roaming hands trace the contours of swordsman's muscle beneath that too-revealing shirt, then slide down, over the taut plane of stomach to find Percival's cock stiffening in the confines of his trousers. Aglovale moans into the kiss. He's missed his brother for so long, and this is so much more than he could have hoped for before.
He unknots that indecent tunic and pushes it open, letting the fabric fall aside so Percival's warm skin is his to touch. When he reaches next for the immodest trousers that go with it, Percival shakes his head, pulling away from the kiss.
"Don't," he says breathlessly, "Aglovale—brother—"
"Ssshh," Aglovale says. He kisses the mark and pours his love and power into it, until Percival hangs limp and panting in the tentacles' grip, trousers damp where his straining cock leaks fluid. "It'll be all right. Everything will be all right now. Let me show you."
This time there's no protest when he tears away Percival's trousers and the smallclothes beneath, only the lovely sight of his brother bare and hard for him. Aglovale runs his hands up Percival's strong thighs, strokes the shadows of his hipbones, slips one hand down to press between his legs, and Percival's only response is to pant and shiver, no protests remaining.
Aglovale gestures at the Otherworld tentacles and they move, shifting Percival's position so he's held with his arms overhead and his legs lifted and spread wide. He's practically an invitation like this, flushed and exposed, his cock dripping on his belly. His eyes are dark and glossy with magic, and the Key hasn't even reached its full potential yet.
Aglovale drops his hands to his own clothes, making quick work of laces and shoving layers out of the way until he can bare his cock. He's been aware of his cock since Percival knelt to him in the throne room, hard since his unpracticed charm took hold, and he can't bare to turn this temptation down. It would be better, perhaps, to go more slowly, to wait until Percival thoroughly understood his position and the spells could be allowed to fade, but Aglovale has been so patient about so many things. Just this once he wants to take what he craves when the opportunity presents itself.
At a quick gesture, one of his assistants wraps a tentacle around his cock, coating it in a slick wetness that will serve his purposes. "Percival," Aglovale says gently. "I love you so much. I'm so glad you're home."
Percival can't answer, but that's all right. There's always next time.
Aglovale rubs the head of his cock in the hot cleft of Percival's ass, and that at least earns him a whimper. He presses, breaching that tight rim and sinking into the tight heat beyond that token defense. It feels so good, just as he's always known it would.
He wraps his hands around Percival's hips and thrusts deeper. Percival's cock twitches and he makes an incoherent sound of longing. He'll be so perfect once he truly understands their common cause!
Even like this, he's a dream come true. Aglovale leans over him, pressing more kisses to Percival's throat and collarbones as he thrusts. "You feel so good," he murmurs. "My precious brother. You'll be my right hand. We'll make this a nation to be proud of."
Percival moans, muscles flexing to no avail. He's always been so spirited.
"Don't worry," Aglovale says. "I'm not so selfish as to leave you unsatisfied." He touches the seal over Percival's heart and channels more power through it, pushing Percival's body to the peak of arousal. Percival cries out, his head falling back, and as Aglovale redoubles his thrusts Percival climaxes with his cock untouched, sweet hole clutching Aglovale's shaft as he spends all over his own chest and stomach.
Aglovale couldn't say whether it's the feel or the sight of Percival's pleasure that undoes him, but Percival is still trembling in the last throes when Aglovale drives deep and spills inside him. It's a moment of triumph, of joy, as much as mere physical indulgence, and his legs momentarily threaten to give way as he lets himself feel the full force of it.
But he keeps his feet, and keeps his wits about him, and as he catches his breath he smiles down at Percival's still-unfocused expression. "I find myself wishing I had a plug for you, to keep my come inside you where it belongs," he says, stroking Percival's hip fondly. "Something to remember for the future, hmm? For some time when you can better appreciate it."
The darkness almost clears from Percival's eyes for a moment, and he starts to make a sound, but it's not coherent.
"Of course we'll have plenty of opportunities," Aglovale reassures him. "You're the most precious person in the world to me. I'm going to treat you right."