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The mood in the castle had been grim for weeks, and it was only exacerbated further when Lord Xander returned from his private audience with the King and brought news of Lady Camilla's betrayal and defection.
Laslow wanted to share a relieved glance with Odin - if Lady Camilla was alive and well, so was Selena - but the moment was not right. Only Lady Elise reacted the way one would be expected to at news that your missing sister was still alive.
However, her smile turned into a frown when she noticed her brothers did not share her enthusiasm.
"What's the matter? That's good news, isn't it?" she spoke up. "All this time we worried she was dead or worse, but she's safe with Corrin!"
“Elise!” Lord Xander’s voice was quick to rise in warning. “Not another word.”
“But why? There's still a chance we can all—”
"Gods, Elise, shut up," Lord Leo snapped, his voice breaking at the worst moment. "Can't you see this is worse? Camilla knows all of our weaknesses."
And since there was no Lady Camilla to smooth the argument between her siblings over, he turned on his heel and went to his quarters, his retainers following along, and Laslow had no chance to discuss the predicament they found themselves in with Odin.
Lord Xander ordered Elise to go to her room before retreating to his own quarters, and that's where all three of them still were, leaving the servants to tiptoe around the tense atmosphere that enveloped the castle's hallways.
And well, Laslow couldn't just stand there and do nothing about it.
Laslow knocked on the door, carefully balancing the tea tray, before letting himself into Xander's quarters.
His lord was still in the same position he was in several hours ago when he dismissed Laslow for the day, hunched over his desk and deeply engrossed in his work. He looked up, looking slightly peeved over the disturbance.
Laslow put on his brightest smile as he strode over to Xander's desk. "I knew you were still awake. I brought you tea."
A huge map of Nohr and Hoshido was unfolded over Xander's desk, so there was really no other place to sit the tray than on the Bottomless Canyon.
"Now is not a good time, Laslow. I gave you leave," Xander said a little irritably, pushing the tray further north towards the mostly uninhabited parts of the continent which were already covered by various missives and stacks of parchment.
"I know," Laslow said as he started pouring the tea into a cup, "but it will do you good, milord. There's nothing that a warm cup of tea and a friendly smile can't fix."
He wondered if he should maybe crack open the window and let some fresh night air in. His gaze fell on the vase on the windowsill.
"Oh, your roses are all wilted!" He sat the teapot down and went over to inspect them. He brought a vase with flowers to that windowsill in his first year as Xander's retainer, in an effort to brighten his lord's environment, and while Xander questioned what he was doing when he caught him placing it there, he never ordered to remove it in the years since. "I'll have to replace them."
"That can wait. Thank you for the tea, Laslow, you are dismissed," Xander tried again, but Laslow was already busying himself by carefully taking them out one by one, minding the thorns.
"If I may, milord," Laslow started, trying to sound casual, "I know you probably think it is somehow your failure but I truly feel there's nothing you could've done to avoid this situation. I mean, when your lord father gave lady Camilla her orders, well, even I know she could never harm a sibling–"
"Don't talk about things you don't understand."
Laslow winced. "Yes, milord."
He tried to stay silent, he really did. But he knew his friends would warn him if they thought he was making a mistake, and he felt he owed the same to Xander. Not that Xander was his friend. But sometimes it felt like he could've been one, under different circumstances.
"Although," he started cautiously, before the words just tumbled out of him, "I just have to say that maybe you were a little too harsh when you sent lady Elise to her room—"
Xander's nostrils flared in affront as his voice rose, "I already told you not to meddle into the way I handle—"
"—because now all three of you are all by yourselves stewing in your misery when I really think you should—"
"That's enough!"
Laslow's mouth snapped shut.
There was a moment of silence as Xander took a deep breath and exhaled, calming himself down.
"Laslow," Xander tried again, his voice slow and deliberate. "I think it would be for the best if you left now. Thank you."
"Right." Laslow gathered the roses in his arms and turned towards Xander, avoiding eye contact. "I'll just… I'll bring you new ones tomorrow. I'm sorry."
For a moment, it looked like Xander wanted to say something, but the moment was gone. Instead, he sent Laslow off with a press of his lips and a nod.
When the door shut behind Laslow, Xander's gaze fell to the abandoned tea. He stood up, refusing to think of anything at all as he moved to his bedroom and started undressing methodically.
Once he slipped on his nightshirt and sat on his bed, he finally allowed himself to bury his face in his hands, letting a deep sigh escape him.
He just needed a moment. Just a— The heavy thud of the door of his study closing reached him.
He lifted his head, startled, just in time to see Laslow appear in the doorway of his bedroom, frazzled and breathing heavily as if he ran all the way up the stairs from his chamber to Xander's quarters.
"I'm sorry, milord, I know you said you want to be left alone and I get it but I really don't think you should be right now," Laslow panted. "I know you won't get any sleep and you'll just spend the entire night worrying yourself sick and it won't do anyone any good. And I— I want to help you take your mind off of things. I'll do better this time."
Then he finally took in the scene before him and his eyes widened before he swiftly averted his gaze, a faint blush appearing on his cheeks.
Xander's voice was soft when he decided to humor him. "And how do you plan on doing that?"
Laslow didn't think that far, but at Xander's question, a terrible, mortifying idea materialized and refused to let go of him.
He didn't expect lord Xander to be ready for bed when he returned, and now that he was, Laslow's gaze kept drifting to the edges of his lord's nightshirt, which bared his thighs when he shifted and— Laslow swallowed, forcing himself to land his gaze on his lord's knees and no further. He tried to think of something, anything else, but the empty space between them. He failed.
"Laslow?" Xander prompted, brow scrunched in concern.
The thing was - Laslow looked, and that was fine. Whose eyes wouldn't be drawn to the imposing figure commanding attention of the room or golden locks framing a handsome face? No one could blame him for that.
So Laslow looked, but he never even considered acting. Lord Xander would never show any interest in someone like Laslow. He would have no need for any petty comforts of the flesh Laslow could provide.
And yet, sitting slumped on the bed in a plain white nightshirt, looking utterly tired and defeated, his lord didn’t feel like the crown prince, not meant for his worthless fop of a retainer's consumption. He felt no different than any other man of flesh and blood.
As Laslow approached Xander, whose gaze was fixed on him, he knew this still wasn't what Xander really needed. He needed the war to end, and his family to be whole again, but Laslow couldn't give him that. He only had himself to give.
And the part of Laslow that answered to a different name and only survived this long by clinging onto belief that in the absence of hope, a warm touch and a kind smile were a good enough replacement, found that he would gladly do it.
Xander's eyes widened in shock as Laslow slowly got on his knees in front of him as if in a daze, heart hammering in his chest.
Laslow placed his hands on Xander’s thighs, the muscle underneath taut as the man above him went perfectly still.
He glanced up timidly. "Is this alright?"
Xander’s wide-eyed gaze and slightly parted lips were quickly replaced with piercing scrutiny that made Laslow feel terribly exposed, as if he was awaiting judgment on the executioner’s block.
He was saved by an almost imperceptible nod.
Laslow swallowed before allowing his hands to travel further, underneath his lord’s nightshirt.
Xander was interested, that much was obvious just by touch. He jerked minutely when Laslow took him in his hand, his legs slightly parting to allow for better access as Laslow coaxed him to full hardness.
Laslow leaned in, closing his eyes and pressing a reverent kiss to the tip of Xander's cock before wrapping his lips around it, the warm wetness making Xander grip the sheets tightly as he watched Laslow make his way up and down the shaft.
Laslow shifted on his knees, which were still slightly sore from the last time lord Xander was displeased with him, but now there was a tightness in his pants that was just as distracting. He pressed his palm to it, unable to ignore it any more, squirming in his hand as he allowed his mind to go blank, focused only on the weight filling his mouth.
He barely even registered when a hand landed on his shoulder and gripped it, followed with a strained "Laslow, I'm going to…", the words belatedly making sense only after he had already tasted his lord's spend on his tongue.
It felt like it all happened too soon, but it didn't matter. He was close too. So close—
He frantically unlaced his trousers, slumping over and letting his head fall into Xander's lap as he finally properly took himself in his hand, vigorously stroking himself off until a strange sound closer to a squeal than a moan escaped him and he spilled his seed over the hardwood floor.
The bliss lasted for a moment, and then it was quickly replaced by the full comprehension of what he had just done, making him choke under the tidal wave of overwhelming, crushing shame.
He crossed a line, there was no doubt about it. There was no way he would be allowed to continue serving lord Xander, and it was all his fault. Lord Xander would forever remember him as the retainer he was forced to send away.
He buried his face deeper into Xander's thigh, the thought of lifting his head and meeting that stern gaze making him sick.
The hand he forgot was on his shoulder moved and started stroking his hair.
Laslow found himself relaxing gradually, melting into the touch as the even strokes lulled him into a sense of security.
Eventually, the hand moved downwards and rested at the nape of his neck, fingers idly playing with the clasp of the chain on which his mother's ring hung. Laslow wouldn't have minded staying like that forever. There was no need to face the world.
"Laslow." Xander's voice jolted him out of his reverie. "You can't spend the night here."
Laslow's eyes snapped open.
"Right," he said dejectedly, avoiding eye contact as he reluctantly lifted his head. His only hope was that maybe tomorrow morning his lord would decide to act as if nothing at all happened in his bedchamber. He was good at that sort of thing - pretending nothing's out of the ordinary. "I'll be out of your hair then. I'm sorry."
Laslow moved to get up but the pressure on his neck remained.
Xander frowned. "I meant you can't spend the night kneeling on the floor."
Laslow blinked in confusion. Where else would lord Xander have him be?
He instinctively turned his head to peer at Xander who was looking at him expectantly.
Laslow didn't understand wh— His gaze fell on the bed Xander was sitting on. Oh.
Xander removed his hand, sensing the way Laslow stilled beneath it. "If you'd rather leave, I will not hold it against you."
Laslow knew he’d have to leave eventually - maybe not that night, not yet, but his time in Nohr was coming to an end. He found there was nothing he wanted less in that moment.
As he allowed Xander to pull him up and guide him down on the bed, his hands already reaching to pull his pants all the way down, Laslow vowed to forever carry with him any scrap of affection his lord bestowed upon him that night.
When Laslow woke up, his first thought was going back to sleep. His bed was softer and his pillow plushier than usual, beckoning him to snuggle under the covers a little while longer, lord Xander and his numerous morning tasks be damned.
His eyes snapped open. Lord Xander!
He turned to look towards the other side of the bed. Xander was already up, nearly done with getting dressed. The rustling while he was getting up must’ve been what woke Laslow.
Laslow hurried to get dressed as well, picking up pieces of clothing from where they were discarded on the floor.
"Laslow."
Laslow stopped in his tracks, slowly turning to peer at Xander. He swallowed. “Yes, milord?”
Xander's back was turned to him, but he glanced at Laslow through the mirror as he busied himself with tying his cravat. "If this is the kind of comfort you seek in those seedy taverns you visit, I would rather you sought it with me. The last thing I need right now is a weeping milk maid showing up at my desk, claiming she's carrying your child."
"Milord," Laslow smiled cheekily, the proposal behind his lord's words making him feel a little light-headed, "I think you're really overestimating my prowess."
"That's for me to decide, not you."
Laslow’s smile widened. "Yes, milord."