Archive of Our Own

Joshua flips another dusty page. He yawns, a great roaring one, his back popping as his horrendous posture corrects itself. Momentarily at least. As soon as his mouth closes, his spine slumps again, scanning words on the page. His fatigue has nothing to do with the literature resting in his lap; the account of Fallen artifacts has Joshua hanging on to every detail.

A knock at the door startles him. He leaves the book open but straightens, shoulders rolling back in a position much more fitting of the future Duke of Rosaria. A few seconds later, the door to his chambers opens and the cause of his fatigue steps inside.

Agnes, one of the castle’s many attendants, is actually quite lovely. More accurately, the words Joshua knows she is going to say next is what truly tires him.

She curtsies deeply. “Your Grace, the tailor is ready for you in the parlor.”

Joshua sighs quietly enough so that Agnes won’t hear it from across the room and assume she’s done something to offend him. “Thank you for letting me know, Agnes,” he says in way of dismissal.

He looks back down and finds the last line he read just moments ago. Surely the tailor will be okay if Joshua just finishes this chapter. Still standing at the door, Agnes clears her throat quietly. “I’m sorry Your Grace, but your mother asked that I escort you to the appointment. She wasn’t pleased when you skipped the last fitting.”

Of course she wasn’t.

“Right,” Joshua says. He places a stray piece of ribbon in the book to hold his place. He pushes his feet back into the uncomfortable loafers he toed off earlier and meets Agnes at the door. He brandishes his arm in a magnanimous gesture. “After you, I insist.”

He follows Agnes in her quick shuffle down the halls and into the parlor where the tailor and his assistants straighten garments on eerie headless mannequins. Joshua is surely the only one in the room to find their empty metal frames unsettling.

The tailor and his assistants all bow when Joshua enters the room. “Your Grace,” the tailor greets, placing a light hand on his elbow and leading him into the room before handing him off to an assistant—a young man with steady hands. The assistant immediately starts helping Joshua out of his current garb.

“Pardon me, Your Grace, but you’ve put us in quite the predicament. What with you missing your last appointment,” the tailor informs him. He’s a small, slender man with expertly groomed facial hair and a stern facial expression. “With the ball only a few hours from now, you’ve hardly left us with time to make any alterations that might be necessary.”

“My apologies,” Joshua responds to the light scolding. “All of the garments you’ve curated for me in the past have been so perfect, I didn’t see the need for multiple fittings.” The young assistant, his back to the tailor, chuckles silently for Joshua to see. Joshua winks.

The tailor makes a noncommittal sound but his chest still puffs with pride. “Well this piece will certainly fit your tastes then,” he mutters, waving for another assistant to bring forth the garb.

Though Joshua has never been one with an eye for fashion, he can admit the doublet is impressive. The silken fabric is a burgundy so dark, the eye could mistake it for black. A delicate brocade pattern is highlighted when the fabric shifts. Gold details on the buckles and matching belt tie the piece together.

He doesn’t have long to admire though because his recently discarded clothing is quickly being replaced with the fine outfit. Wool socks are slipped over his feet and calves before his legs are pushed into form fitting black pants. The doublet is next, several hands working on the complicated laces. In what feels like the blink of an eye, he’s dressed and a full-length mirror is thrust before him.

These fittings always have him feeling a bit dizzy with so many hands on his body tugging him one way or the other. When he beholds himself though, he cannot say he’s displeased. The clothes fit him well. The plain black pants highlight his long legs and the doublet’s structure tapers nicely at his waist. The shoulder pads conceal his slender shoulders as welcomed camouflage of an insecurity.

He turns to the tailor and nods firmly. “Another job well done, sir.”

The tailor smacks his lips together wetly, approving of his own handiwork. “Excellent!”

And then the process begins all over again. Just as quickly, he is undressed and redressed. “I’ll have the garment sent to your chambers right away, Your Grace,” The tailor says.

Joshua takes that as his cue to leave and steps down from the pedestal.

To say Joshua Rosfield is displeased would be an understatement. He's in Oriflamme, possibly the most beautiful and knowledge-rich city in all of Storm, and he's sitting in a stuffy court, in stuffy clothes, surrounded by stuffy aristocrats. It’s an exceptionally clear and mild night, millions of stars lighting the sky. Instead of strolling the streets and ducking his head into bookstores and stationary shops, he’s here, celebrating the prince he hasn't spoken to in years.

At age 17, Prince Dion of the House Lesage is the youngest person to ever successfully complete his training and join the ranks of the imperial dragoons. As their leader, no less. The emperor, proud and reasonably so, invited many of the aligned houses to attend the celebratory ball. Of course, his mother jumped at the opportunity to send Joshua, her eligible bachelor of a son, off to the event. To make things worse, Clive didn’t even get to join him for the journey. Despite his status as Joshua’s shield, their father elected to keep him home, most likely off on some daring expedition.

His brother’s presence always makes even the worst of occasions bearable. Even though he’s envious that Clive gets to avoid many of these court dealings, he knows it's for the best. Clive is notoriously more awkward than even Joshua is in settings such as these.

Earlier in the evening, Joshua managed to slip away from his mother who chats with a group of other high ladies. He stays out of her sight while also keeping her well within his. She makes her rounds, sophisticated and charismatic. Joshua knows she’s looking for him and also a lady she finds suitable to introduce him to.

All the more reason to hide.

He moves through dancing and socializing bodies until he finds a spot to perch away from the chaos. It’s a ledge by a window, the moon casting a mythical glow through the glass. When he takes a seat, he realizes most of his form is concealed by a rather large, exotic plant. His view, on the other hand, is mostly unobstructed so he can keep an eye on his mother.

Satisfied, he nudges himself further back on the ledge, crossing one leg neatly over the other and pulling out the book he tucked into his tunic. He flips it open, delighted that the moonlight illuminates the pages in such a dark corner of the ballroom.

The music and chatter is quite loud, but Joshua has no trouble tuning them out to focus on the narrative in his palms. He spent much of his boyhood reading to the soundtrack of the noisy bailey and clash of Clive’s practice sword. He’s just slipping back into the words when a flash of white and gold catches his eye.

He looks up and his eyes widen. It’s the prince.

He’s draped in well-fitted, all white attire. A testament to his nobility no doubt. The gold that caught Joshua's eye, he realizes, was the prince’s hair. It’s longer than the last time they saw each other, the lengthiest tendrils brushing the tops of his shoulders.

He’s the spitting image of royalty— sophisticated facial structure, piercing eyes, lilting smile. He’s even got a beautiful maiden twirling in his arms to complete the impression. Joshua wants to roll his eyes but he also can’t bring himself to look away.

The prince is beautiful.

“There you are, Joshua!”

His mother’s voice brings him out of focus, the prince and his maiden twirling away. He quickly shoves the book back into his tunic, lest his mother see it. “What are you doing hiding away in corners?”

Joshua sighs. “Just taking a break, mother.” He follows her back out into the throes of posturing people. He doesn’t catch another glimpse of the prince that night.

Instead of returning to his rooms after the fitting, Joshua ventures to the one place he knows he’ll find his brother. The practice grounds. When he arrives, Clive Rosfield is there, sparring with a fellow soldier. He can tell Clive is bored by the ease in which he bats away each of the man’s strikes. He’s also noticeably dry of sweat.

His opponent’s practice sword goes flying across the field, burying itself in the sand. The soldier stands there for a moment, confused by what just happened. Catching on, he bows. “I’ve still some work to do, Lord Marquess” he says, scrambling to retrieve the sword.

“You’ll get there,” Clive assures him.

The soldier exits and Clive notices where Joshua stands, one foot propped up on the railing. “Joshua,” he greets, jogging over to meet him. “Come to go a round?”

Joshua scoffs. “I’d like to keep my arse out of the sand, thank you.”

They laugh. Clive leans on the railing, elbow nudging Joshua’s. “Not looking forward to tonight, I take it?”

Joshua picks at a piece of wood on the railing. “I am practically shaking with anticipation, brother,” he says sarcastically.

“You know, balls are supposed to be fun.”

Joshua gives him a look.

“The music is nice”

“Is my brute of a brother becoming a man of culture?”

“Oh please, I know more about the theater than you could ever dream of.”

Joshua laughs in agreement. He supposes they can thank Uncle Bryon for that lesser known part of Clive. Watching the two reenact scenes from plays always flung Joshua into hysterical fits of giggles as a boy.

“I’m sure Jill will be as beautiful as ever tonight,” Joshua teases.

His brother’s ears redden. “Yes, I’m sure.”

“At least you have that to look forward to. All I’ll have is mother introducing me to every eligible lady in the realm.”

“You are in your twenty-second year, Joshua,” Clive responds lightly.

“And you in your twenty-seventh, but no one is bothering you over it,” Joshua snaps.

“You know my standing is not the same as yours.”

Joshua deflates. “I know. I’m sorry for snapping. You’re the only one who will hear my complaints.”

“Luckily you don’t seem to have too many,” Clive jokes, clapping him on the back.

****
The rest of the day passes too quickly. He knows the saying goes, "Time flies when you're having fun," but it also flies when approaching something dreaded. He knows because the day slips through his hands like sand. He's making rounds through social circles in the crowded atrium before he even realizes there was sand to hold on to in the first place.

He smiles at several lords and ladies, promises dances later in the evening, and assures those who ask that, yes, his health is on the rise. He wears his mask well, though the questions concerning his well being always leave cracks. The Phoenix's fragile health is no closely guarded secret of Rosaria. Ever since he was a boy he's suffered spells of illness— coughs, aches, and fevers. He's not had an episode in a good while.

But he knows what the people think and how they whisper. The questions they ask. They are the same questions he’s asked himself his entire life. It doesn’t matter that he’s proven his worth at every chance. Eyes will always flicker between him and the shield standing firm at his back and ask themselves why that one? So will Joshua.

The orchestra begins tugging at strings and Joshua makes a quick escape before he actually has to fulfill the promises of the dances that he doled out. He knows he won’t be able to hide for long, not with both his parents in attendance and with being a host himself. He just needs a second to breathe.

He grabs a seat off to the side, a spot he has used in the past to stray from roaming eyes. He has a nice vantage point of where late arrivals still trickle into the ballroom. He watches as officials from other parts of Storm scamper in like an overdressed line of ants. Some he recognizes, but many he does not.

If not for his strikingly white garb, Joshua might not have noticed the crown prince of Sanbreque slipping into the fray. Amongst a sea of blues, reds, and grays, the prince stands out like a beacon.

Joshua doesn’t focus long on his ballwear, distracted by just how big Prince Dion has gotten. There’s no other way to put it. In the years since he’d last see the prince he’d grown immeasurably. His shoulders have broadened and he can see how his musculature curves suggestively under his pristine white coat.

So that’s what five years of leading the Imperial dragoons will do to a man, Joshua thinks. Admittedly, his cheeks are a bit flushed. Dion is still every bit the prince he was five years ago, but now all of those traits are mixed with that of a seasoned soldier. That’s not even to speak of the actual dragon housed beneath those finely structured bones.

There is only one word for it, Joshua decides. Unfair.

Five years have also changed Joshua, but not like that. He’s taller now, even rivaling the towering stance of Clive. But despite knowing his way around a sword well enough, he’s never been able to escape his slender frame.

“Your Grace,” a female voice says.

Joshua jolts, making eye contact with a finely dressed lady. “I’d like that dance you promised me now,” she says, waiting for him to offer her his hand. She’s bold, not an unattractive trait. She blocks his view from the prince but that is probably for the best.

“Of course, my lady,” he says, brandishing the crook of his elbow for her to grab. He escorts her to the dance floor.

****

Just because he doesn’t particularly enjoy dancing, does not mean he’s not good at it. He spent enough time in lessons as a boy and he has always been blessed at picking up on new skills quickly. He twirls countless ladies in his arms and admits, although guiltily, that he only remembers a handful of their names.

When the current song ends, he politely excuses himself from the dance floor. A familiar scratch in his throat demands soothing, so he grabs a flute of something off a serving tray and takes it with him into the gardens. The night air cools his dance flushed skin and he downs the wine in two gulps. He sets the glass amongst other dirtied ones on a tray.

He strolls aimlessly, keeping eyes respectfully averted from the lovers doing the same. He finds a secluded spot deeply nestled in bushes and flowers. No one around, Joshua lazes across a bench, laying horizontal on the wrought iron. The cool metal does wonders for his sweaty back.

Stars twinkle within the frame of greenery. Metia burns in her spot next to the moon. Joshua mouths a silent message to her as he’s done countless times before. The red glow answers him just as quietly.

Loud rustling startles Joshua so badly he bolts upright. His surroundings are the same as they were moments before. Quiet until it's not. The rustling starts up again. He’s certain no one followed him this deeply into the gardens. A curious animal, perhaps?

Giving in, Joshua follows the noise deeper into the grounds. The closer he gets, the more eager he is to discover its source. He wouldn’t protest to finding a cat toying through the branches.

As he gets closer, the sounds start to resemble those of an animal less and less until it is voices he hears. They’re clipped and was that a gasp? Before Joshua’s mind can warn him that this is probably not something he wants to stumble upon, his traitorous legs are turning the corner and—

Joshua halts. Partly obscured between bushes and a stone wall, the crown prince of the Holy Empire has an attractive stable boy crowded against the wall, ravishing his neck with mean kisses. Dion’s large frame covers most of the young man’s, but Joshua sees the way his knuckles pull white against Dion’s shoulders.

Oh Founder, Dion’s hand is definitely in the man’s pants.

Joshua claps a hand over his open mouth, but it’s too late. His gasp has already sounded in a breathy whoosh.

The prince’s head tilts, gold meeting shaking blue. “It seems we have company,” Dion grunts. Is he smirking?

The stable boy says something but Joshua doesn’t stick around to hear it. He turns on his heel and flees the way he came. His cheeks are ablaze and his heart pounds so loudly in his head that he doesn’t hear the footfalls that chase after him.

“Stupid, stupid, stupid,” he mutters quietly to himself.

“Phoenix!” A voice calls out to him. Joshua quickens his pace because he is not about to face the owner of that call.

A large hand wraps around Joshua’s wrist, stopping and spinning him around in the same motion. Joshua is face to face with Prince Dion. He’s proud to say he doesn’t have to look up to meet Dion’s eyes. The same pride slides off its ramshackle foundation when he can’t stand to hold that gaze for longer than a millisecond. He looks over Dion’s shoulder for a different focal point.

“Wait,” Dion says, dropping Joshua’s wrist. Joshua cradles where Dion’s hand touched, rubbing the skin as if he’d been scalded.

“Excuse me, Your Highness, I need to be getting back to the revelry.” He bows his head slightly as the words come out. His excuse is lame and they both know it.

“You can spare me one moment.”

Joshua’s shoulders tense. The arrogance. “I won’t tell anyone if that’s what you’re concerned about.”

Joshua takes great offense to the skepticism in Prince Dion’s eyes. “That seems unlikely.”

He gapes at the prince, dumbfounded. “What do I have to gain from spreading rumors of who the prince of Sanbreque has up against walls?”

Dion scrutinizes him and Joshua tries, really tries, to not waver under the weight of his study. “Smart one like you could figure something out.”

Joshua bristles. It’s been years since they’ve had a proper conversation, but they are far from strangers. Surely Dion doesn’t think his character has changed so much to commit such slimy acts. “This might come as a shock, Your Highness, but I am far too busy to ‘figure something out’ as you say.”

The prince has a wyvern tail tucked into the lapel of his coat. The white petals bleed into the rest of him. “How do I know you’ll stay true to your word?”

He’s taken aback by the question. “I guess you’ll just have to trust me.”

“That’s not good enough, Phoenix,” Dion says, taking a decided step forward.

Every instinct is telling Joshua to step back but his flaky pride keeps his boots planted to cobblestone. Two of Dion’s fingers are under Joshua’s chin then. Joshua knows his eyes are comically wide, trying to gauge the prince’s intentions. His amber eyes reveal nothing.

Dion kisses him.

Barely, but it's a kiss nonetheless. The faintest brush of lips. Joshua’s first thought is that Dion’s lips are awfully soft for a soldier.

“So my suspicions were correct,” Dion whispers, still close enough for Joshua to feel the words better than he hears them.

“What?” he asks, not understanding what he means by that.

His question doesn’t matter, because Dion’s hand moves to his neck where he can grip him to properly kiss him. It’s not the sweet caress of new romance. Dion forces his way into Joshua’s mouth with his tongue. Acting upon their own accord, Joshua’s hands find Dion’s waist and pull him closer. They grope at one another, noses knocking and Dion’s teeth scraping Joshua’s lips.

Just as soon as they joined, they part. Joshua’s breathing is uneven and Dion has a flush of his own high on his cheeks. The prince wipes his shiny mouth with the back of his hand. That’s my spit, Joshua thinks, with a tightening of his groin.

“There, now I have something of equal measure over you.” Dion smirks like he has come out on the other side of a battle victorious.

“You kissed me!” Joshua splutters.

“True, but you didn’t push me away in disgust either.” Dion places his hands on his hips. “Actually, I think you pulled me closer.”

Joshua’s throat bobs, searching his brain for words, something he can say to melt away the prince’s smug expression.

“It’s alright. I didn’t mind.” Challenge sparks between them, and in that moment, it is Phoenix and Bahamut more than Joshua and Dion.

A shout from the other side of the garden shatters the moment. Joshua whips his head around towards the doors of the castle where the sound came from. It’s probably nothing, just drunk party goers slipping into the gardens. “I—”

Dion cuts him off with a regal hand. “Have to get back to your party.”

Joshua nods curtly.

“Until next time, Phoenix.”

And then the prince is gone.

****
Joshua rushes back into the atrium, passing the noisy drunkards on the way in. He scans the crowd until he finds his brother. Clive is on the outskirts of the dancefloor twirling the beautiful Jill in his arms. Clive isn’t the smoothest dancer, but the smile on Jill’s face shows just how little she cares.

He hates to interrupt but he places a hand on Clive’s arm to get his attention. Clive’s brows narrow in concern immediately. “Joshua.”

“It’s nothing. Just tell mother and father that I’m not feeling well and I’ve retired to my chambers.”

Jill places an icy palm on Joshua’s cheek. “Are you alright, Joshua. You look faint.”

Joshua smiles fondly at her. She really is stunning. Even more so with the natural glow his brother’s arm on her waist brings out in her complexion. “I’ll be alright, Jill. Just tired.” He turns to Clive then. “Thank you, brother.”

He doesn’t give him a chance to respond, running off to his rooms.

****
Removing the snugly laced outfit on his own was much harder than anticipated, but he managed. Each article lies over a chair in the corner of the room, getting wrinkled. Joshua could care less.

He lies buried in the middle of a bed far too big for his body alone, the book on artifacts from the Fallen propped on his knees. A glowing ball of aether flame floats above his head to provide light. Regardless of his valiant effort, he cannot refocus himself. He slams the binding shut, petulantly tossing it to the foot of his bed. It knocks against one amongst many of the other books he’s tried to escape into tonight.

He falls back into the pillows, extinguishing his magic and settling into darkness. He can hear the muffled noise of the ball still going on across the castle. His thoughts, leagues louder, drown out the sounds. Shiny lips, calloused hands on his neck, firm hips under his palms. Joshua shudders.

He doesn’t think about a hand shoved in pants, and he definitely doesn’t imagine cold cobblestone against his back instead of another’s.

If a hand slides between his legs to bring himself quick release, that’s not his fault either.

“Master Harpocrates would like you.”

The sudden voice jolts Joshua out of his reading. He blinks up at the newcomer. It’s the prince. He takes a seat next to Joshua without asking if he wants company.

“I don’t know who that is,” Joshua says, wary of the boy.

“He’s my tutor. He reads all the time too.” The prince says, kicking his legs over the edge of the wall that they’re perched on.

The other boys run around the courtyard, brandishing sticks and pebbles. They follow mock military commands from one of the older boys, charging at each other. Their father’s gather in the delegation room, discussing matters of economics and war.

When Joshua doesn’t speak, the prince nods his head toward the book that he now clutches protectively to his chest. “Have you read that one before? It looks like you have.” He points at the fraying binding.

Joshua runs a finger over it. “A few times,” he lies. He’s read it no less than a hundred times.

“Hmm,” The prince responds. He leans back on his arms, squinting in the sun. “What’s it about?”

Joshua opens his mouth to explain but then thinks better of it. “You don’t really care.”

The prince makes a face at him. “Why would I waste my time to ask if I didn’t care?”

He’s got a point, but Joshua still scowls. “To make fun of me.”

“If I wanted to, I already would have.” The prince’s impatience is obvious in his words. He kicks his feet some more, waiting for Joshua to spill.

He decides that the quicker he does, the quicker the prince will leave him alone. “It’s about a star.” The prince turns to face him now, waiting for him to continue. “A star that falls from the heavens and crashes to the land. And it’s about the boy who finds her. He plans on giving the fallen star to a girl back home for her hand in marriage. When he finds the star, he’s shocked to discover she’s actually a human girl. Well, at least she looks like one. They go on a grand adventure, escaping witches and greedy kings, and even sail on a flying pirate ship.”

Dion waits for him to finish, before nodding. “That sounds,” he searches for the words. “Alright.”

Joshua huffs, cradling the book to his chest even tighter. “It’s more than just alright. I’m not very good at explaining things. You have to read it for yourself.”

“I suppose that makes sense. Let me borrow it then.” He’s already holding out his hand as if expecting Joshua to already be handing it over.

Joshua furrows his brows. The prince continues, “I’m sure you’ve plenty of other books! I want to see if this one is truly as great as you say.”

He can’t say why he gives in, but eventually, he does. He places the book in the prince’s outstretched palm. “I expect it to be read by the next time we meet.”

Well over a month has passed since the disaster of a ball and Joshua can proudly admit he has rarely thought of the prince or their kiss. He wasn’t lying when he said he’s busy. It seems peace is too much to ask for between nations. Tensions are rising between the Dhalmekian Republic and the Imperials again. Delegations have been called and Joshua, along with his father and Clive, have made the long journey to attend.

They arrived at a neutral location in Sanbreque just at nightfall the following day and awoke early this morning for the first of meetings. Joshua is tired and the journey took its toll but he hides it well. His presence is more for appearances than anything else. He sits and listens to men with too much authority bicker and argue like old married couples for hours. At least Dion or his legion of dragoons haven’t shown their faces.

Ah, spoke too soon.

Ever one for dramatics, two fully armored dragoons burst into the room. They move uniformly to make a wide path for Prince Dion to step through. He hands his spear off to one of his men and takes a seat at the table. Everyone is silent.

Dion looks around at the gathering of officials. “Carry on,” he says. There are a few unhappy grumbles but the arguments continue right back up, vitriol in every word. Joshua’s got a headache. Dion is not making it any better by trying to chase Joshua’s eyes.

Joshua refuses to look at him. He becomes interested in every other detail in the room starting with the tablecloth and even landing on the grains in the baseboards. Across the table, Dion lifts his shiny goblet to his lips. The glare catches Joshua’s attention and he loses their little game of avoidance.

Joshua doubts Dion’s eyes have left him since he entered the room and now they gleam wickedly gold when they land on their target. Joshua can no longer keep up with the shouts and strategies all around him. He picks at the belt sitting high on his thigh beneath the table. Is he trying to intimidate me?

He stares the prince down, channeling as much disdain into his eyeballs as he can muster. It only seems to amuse Dion.

The prince sets down his goblet. “Gentlemen, we shall break for lunch. My dragoons and I have traveled straight from our defenses on the border and this conversation is getting nowhere.”

The room is tense but no one dares speak back. Not loudly at least. The officials exit, muttering under their breaths. Joshua and his father are the last to leave, but Dion stops him at the door.

“Phoenix, a word?”

His father turns to Joshua, questions in his gaze. “It’s fine. I’ll be with you and Clive soon.”

His father looks over Joshua’s head to where the prince sits. He can tell his father wants to say something, but doesn’t. He nods and leaves the room. Joshua immediately turns and approaches where Dion perches. He pays extra mind to ensure there is a respectable distance between them.

“Yes, Your Highness?” Joshua says, half a mind to cross his arms over his chest indignantly. He doesn’t though, not with the other dragoons around. It’s not that he’s intimidated by them. He’s just never been one for public signs of disrespect and Dion is incredibly young to lead such a legion all on his own. It can’t be easy.

“Leave us,” Dion orders. The remaining dragoons salute and leave the room in a clatter of metal. The door clicks shut behind them.

As soon as they’re gone, Joshua’s arms cross like they want to and he leans against the discussion table. “My shield and father will be expecting me, so I won’t stay long to chat.” Dion doesn’t say anything, just leans back further into his chair. Someone already removed the metallic musculature of his armor, probably one of his loyal dragoons, before he entered the room. He’s left in a flowy white tunic tucked into matching pants. The lines of him are present but Joshua does not take the time to notice.

“I haven’t breathed a word to anyone, so you can stop hounding me with your eyes.” Joshua adds.

Dion’s smile is unsettling. “You think that’s why I’ve been looking at you?”

“Why else, then?”

The prince laughs. Joshua’s arms drop at the sound he couldn’t have prepared himself for. The prince sits beside him then, mirroring Joshua’s posture against the tabletop. They’re still far enough apart to be comfortable, but closer than they were before. Joshua eyes the remaining space skeptically as the prince starts to speak again. “Do they not have mirrors in Rosalith?”

It takes Joshua a moment to find his meaning. When he does, he jumps up, tense. “I do not appreciate being toyed with,” he warns.

Strong arms brace against the table behind him as Dion looks up at him. The prince is trying to figure him out. Joshua can tell and it makes his skin itch. “And I do not say things I do not mean.”

“What do you want, Your Highness,” Joshua says. He’s growing impatient. He’s had enough politicking this morning for a lifetime and he needs a straight answer.

Dion doesn’t even think about it. “Whatever you’ll allow me, Your Grace.”

He can’t stop the red blooming up his neck at that one. Nor the slackening of his jaw. He recovers quickly though, snapping his mouth shut. He turns his back to the dragoon. He can’t focus while he’s in his line of sight.

“I saw some stables on the way into town. I’m sure you could find someone nice and easy there to sate you.”

Dion barks another laugh. Again, it catches Joshua off guard and he spins back around, glaring. It’s a mistake. Dion beholds every shade of red dusting his face.

“I do tire of easy.” He looks up at Joshua through his eyelashes. “And though our last encounter was unconventional, I am not too proud to admit that it’s been on my mind.” Dion unabashedly gives him a long once over. If Joshua had feathers, they’d be well and thoroughly ruffled.

“What do you stand to gain from this?” Joshua questions. He can tell Dion has to stop himself from rolling his eyes.

“I’d like to think this exchange would be mutually beneficial.”

He searches unwavering amber and realizes that he’s serious. The crown prince is actually propositioning him. In a counsel room. Joshua is certainly no prude, but this, this is a lot. His bold words are working on Joshua though. And those broad shoulders.

Joshua never stood a chance.

Making a decision, albeit a very poor one, Joshua says, “I wasn’t joking when I said I wouldn’t be staying long.”

“I’ll make quick work of you, then.”

Yeah, that arrogance really works for Joshua. He steps right up to the prince and fists his fingers in the back of his hair. Kisses him roughly. Dion doesn’t squander a single moment, arms instantly pressing into his back and forcing them chest to chest. Joshua stumbles forward a bit and Dion juts his thigh between his legs to catch him.

Once he’s got Joshua damn near in his lap, his hands roam incessantly. Big hands press into his waist and his stomach, even traveling up to the nape of his neck. He tugs on the longer strands there in retaliation for Joshua’s own harsh pulls.

Joshua really isn’t trying to make this into a competition, but he also knows he won’t allow himself to be bested.

Joshua yanks Dion’s shirt out of his pants so he can palm at the ridiculously toned abdomen beneath. He scrapes his nails over Dion’s stomach and the prince moans right into his mouth. His dick jumps in his pants at the sound and Dion must feel it too because he shifts his thigh.

Joshua pulls away to clap a hand over his mouth to stifle his own sounds. Dion’s thigh is firm and hot and pressed right against his cock. He rolls his hips and gasps into his palm

“Let me hear you,” Dion pants, placing wet kisses along Joshua’s neck. He pulls Joshua’s hand away from his mouth and places it back in his hair.

“Need I remind you where we are,” Joshua grunts, each syllable dotted with a roll of his hips. He shuts his eyes to keep them from rolling back in his skull.

“Just focus on riding me,” Dion says, guiding Joshua’s eager hips with his hands.

“Shit,” Joshua curses. Dion is still running his tongue over his neck, starting to tease with his teeth. Joshua tugs on golden strands. “No marks.”

Dions tuts. “I’m only tasting.” He lowers his head to watch Joshua jerking helplessly against his thigh. “Good Greagor, look at you.”

Joshua yanks his head up roughly to kiss him again. He can’t trust himself while listening to that voice. They’re sloppy with it and Joshua feels the tethers that hold him back slipping. He’s used to careful, gentle lovers. This is fast, and heated, and dirty, and everything he’s ever needed.

“Touch me,” Joshua demands against Dion’s tongue.

The prince chuckles darkly. “I already am.” He rubs circles into Joshua’s hipbones for emphasis.

“Meaner,” Joshua chokes.

Dion brings a hand up to Joshua’s throat, resting it there. He uses his pointer finger against Joshua’s jawline to force him to look Dion in the face. “You’re a marvel.” His voice is tinged with awe as he applies just enough pressure for Joshua to feel it.

Joshua whimpers, his hips losing all semblance of rhythm where he rolls his need. “Yes,” he mouths.

“Just like that. Take what you need.”

Joshua feels delirious and in the back of his mind he knows he’ll never recover from this. He wonders how he’s survived this long without that big hand on his neck and muscled thigh between his own. “Going to use me to come, Phoenix?”

Joshua is thoroughly scandalized and hopelessly turned on at the same time. He twitches his head in a nod and Dion bares his teeth. “Good because I’m going to let you.” He presses just the tiniest bit harder against Joshua’s throat and he’s gone.

He throws his head back, catching his cries in his hand despite Dion’s earlier protests. His hips give a few more pathetic jerks before he falls against Dion, body gone to mush. “Founder,” he whispers, regaining his grip on reality.

He looks down at the wet spot in his pants that is, to his horror, bleeding onto Dion’s thigh. Joshua jumps out of the prince’s hold. Dion catches him by his forearms when he wobbles. He just came in his pants in an unlocked counsel room rutting against the prince’s leg like an animal in heat. He is scrambling through the timeline of events that lead him to this situation when Dion passes him a handkerchief.

“It’ll have to do for now,” Dion says.

Joshua grabs the silky fabric in a shaking palm. “Thank you,” he mutters.

It’s awkward but he manages to clean himself the best he can. Luckily, he keeps a sash about his waist that covers most of the damage. Like the fool he is, he tries to hand the handkerchief back to Dion when he’s done. The prince just raises his eyebrows and Joshua is mortified by his misstep.

“Sorry, I wasn’t thinking,” he quips. At this point, his blush is going to leave a permanent stain.

“Understandable given our condition.”

Oh, right. Dion is still hard. Immediately Joshua reaches out but Dion pushes his hands away gently. “Next time.”

He says it as a statement, but really, it’s an offer. Dion is promising more if Joshua will reach out and take it.

He does.

“Next time.”

“Phoenix!”

Joshua turns around and the prince is there, holding something in his hands.

“My name is Joshua.”

The prince ignores him. “I finished your book.” He holds it out for Joshua to take, which he does.

He runs his fingers over the familiar divots in the leatherbound cover. It’s been months since he’s had it in his possession. “You were right. You really aren’t very good at explanations.” When Joshua scowls, he continues. “It was much better when I read it for myself.”

At this, Joshua smiles.

“Do you have another?”

Joshua reaches into his satchel and presses another novel into waiting palms.

In the weeks that follow, Joshua doesn’t think about the prince of Sanbreque. He doesn’t think about that awestruck voice that encouraged his depravity or the fingers that gripped his throat. Nor does he consider the golden eyes that watched him fall apart all too quickly in his lap. Not a single thought is spared to the bulge left unaddressed in the prince’s pants. How it might have felt if Joshua had gotten his hands on him. His mouth.

No, none of those thoughts have so much as crossed his mind.

Joshua toys at the corner of Dion’s handkerchief. He’d washed it himself, far too ashamed to lump it in with the rest of the laundry. It’s a fine piece of cloth, silky with the imperial crest emblazoned in the corner. On the flip side, Dion’s initials are embroidered in golden thread. He runs his fingers over the calligraphed D and L and lies to himself some more.

A knock on the door startles him and he shoves the handkerchief in his pocket as though he’s been caught with his hand in the cookie jar. In a way, he feels like he has. Agnes pops her pretty head through the door, a pleasant smile warming her features. “Good afternoon, Your Grace. A letter has arrived for you. I was told the matter is urgent.”

Joshua frowns, wary of what the unexpected message may hold. He takes it from her outstretched hands. “Thank you, I’ll see to it immediately.”

The envelope is plain aside from an ambiguous wax seal holding the parchment together. He slips his thumb under the edge to pry it open neatly. The message within is as brief as they get, only three lines scrawled in looping penmanship.

At the top, there is an address, an inn not too far on the outskirts of Rosalith, followed by:

I believe you still have something of mine.
The innkeeper will be expecting you after nightfall.
-D.L.

“Is everything alright, Your Grace?”

Joshua rereads the message several times before responding. He clears his throat. “Yes, everything is fine.” He folds the note over neatly again just in case her curiosity gets the better of her. “Thank you for bringing it to me.”

“Of course, Your Grace,” she says, politely bowing and then exiting the room.

As soon as the door is shut, Joshua collapses back into his chair. He pulls the handkerchief from where it is rumpled in his pocket. He smooths it out and holds it up next to the note, swearing softly under his breath. There’s no way he’s going to go.

Joshua is getting a little too good at lying to himself.

****
“You’re going to meet someone?” Clive asks, skeptical and reasonably so.

“Yes,” Joshua responds. “I thought it would be irresponsible to not tell at least one person.”

The moon is just settling into her spot for the night when Joshua approaches his brother with his plan. He figures the less time Clive has to consider it, the less time he has to convince Joshua not to go.

“Everything is fine and I won’t be gone long,” Joshua adds.

“You know this person?”

“Of course!”

“But you refuse to tell me who they are,” Clive says, hands on hips, scowling.

“It’s of no importance. I just want someone to know where I’m at,” he tugs the cloak over his shoulders tighter around his frame. “Plus, you can cover for me if it comes to that.”

Clive laughs, shaking his head. “I can’t believe you’re sneaking off to have some midnight rendezvous, Joshua.”

He pulls his hood up so Clive can’t see him blushing. “It’s nothing like that, brother,” he protests. “I just have something of theirs that I need to return. That’s all.”

Clive crosses his arms over his chest. “Right.” He places a warm hand on Joshua’s shoulder. “Just be careful.”

Joshua nods once. “I always am.”

As he is slipping out of the room, Clive calls, “Whoever they are, I hope they’re worth it.”

Joshua has already closed the door behind him when he whispers his response. “Me too.”

****
Although the inn that Dion chose is one that Joshua has passed before on travels, he’s never actually been inside. It’s a bit shabby, rickety tables, flaking chairs, and an aged bartop to complete the set. A fireplace crackles in the corner next to a sleepy bard, surrounded by noisy patrons eating and clanking goblets. It’s not the kind of place you’d find two young royals. Smart on Dion’s end.

Joshua eases his way up to the bar. When the barkeep finishes serving a fresh tank of ale, she approaches him. “What'll ya have?”

“I won’t be drinking tonight. I was told you’d be expecting me.” Joshua feels foolish saying it. Even more so when she just raises an eyebrow at him. He hastily pulls the handkerchief out of his pocket to show her the Imperial crest.

“Ah, you’re with him.” She reaches beneath the bar and pulls out a key. “Up those stairs. Second room on your left.”

Joshua accepts the key. “Thank you.”

Joshua may as well be fighting off a horde of goblins with the way his heart pounds as he makes his way up the steps. Every footfall bleats loudly in his ears, mocking him for running right into the prince’s hands. He could turn around now, return the key, and leave the handkerchief with the innkeeper. It couldn’t possibly be that difficult to avoid Prince Dion for the rest of his life.

All too soon, he’s standing before the door, key hot in his hand. He is such a fool, a damned idiot, really. The key slides into the lock and clicks. Dion is asleep on the bed.

A laugh leaves him. The prince, dressed in the typical ethereal white, dozes like a babe. His head is tilted at an awkward angle as though he was desperately fighting his fatigue before giving in. His lips are parted just the slightest bit as air enters and leaves him. It’s the only sound in the room.

It doesn’t occur to Joshua that maybe it’s strange to observe this. It’s simply nice to witness someone at peace in their dreams. He remembers Dion always seeming so tired when they were boys.

He decides to leave the handkerchief on the bedside table and leave the prince to his rest. The floor creaks loudly when Joshua makes to do so and Dion’s eyes slide open. He blinks a few times before noticing Joshua. He looks embarrassed.

“Phoenix.”

He sets the silk on the bedside table as he intended. “How many years have I been telling you that’s not my name?”

Dion chooses not to comment, instead picking up the handkerchief. Joshua returns to the door. “Where are you going?”

“Home, Your Highness. I’ve given you back your handkerchief and you need your rest.”

Joshua is opening the door when a palm smacks against the wood about his head. The door slams. Joshua can feel the prince at his back. “Don’t go.” The words are hot along the side of his face.

Joshua turns around so quickly, the hood drops from his head. Dion, arm still propped over him, is mere centimeters away. Despite being unconscious mere moments ago, his eyes are startlingly clear. Joshua has to look away.

Dion pulls his face back, just slightly. “Go if you must. But I’d like for you to stay.”

They’re so close, Joshua can smell him. Light and clean and something primal. He must have bathed when he arrived. Joshua can’t trust himself to think with Dion so close; he needs to push him away. He doesn’t.

“Okay,” Joshua whispers. “I’ll stay.”

Dion crashes into him.

Joshua is reduced to moans the second Dion’s tongue is in his mouth. His back is pressed flush to the door and his hands are tangled in blonde. Joshua feels flames collecting in his belly, licking at his insides. He struggles to contain them. Dion’s firm hand holds Joshua’s jaw in place to ravish him.

Gods, they’re a mess. Joshua pushes Dion away just enough so he can flip them, Dion’s back now against the wood that he’s warmed. Dion looks a bit dazed, trying to seek Joshua’s mouth once more.

“The handkerchief isn’t the only thing I owe you,” Joshua says, sinking to his knees.

Dion smiles, brushing his fingers through Joshua’s bangs. “Am I to play debt collector tonight?”

Josha slips Dion’s belt free from his hips and sets to work on his laces. He’s surprised at just how hard the prince already is from a few kisses. He’s flattered all the same. “Help me with this,” he hisses.

Dion obliges, loosening the laces with no issue. Joshua gets his fingers under the waistline and tugs, pulling them down just enough to see him bare. Joshua’s jaw aches just looking at him.

He's well beyond the point of hesitancy.

Joshua wraps his mouth around Dion's cock, eyes rolling at the taste of him. He focuses on Dion’s soft gasps, yearning to induce more of them. This is what bards should be writing songs about. Not about the prince’s heroics in the skies, or of the enemies he’s slain, but this. The way he pants and pets at Joshua’s hair, hips stuttering from trying to not give in to baseness.

“I won’t shatter,” Joshua says, pulling back. “You can have your way with me.”

He means what he says. He craves Dion’s roughened lust. He wants to feel the power that coils within him and meet it with his own. Who have they to hide from in moments like these?

Dion curls his fingers gently in Joshua’s scalp, considering his offer with a glow in his eye. He tightens his grip, yanking Joshua’s head back. “Open your mouth, little bird.”

His jaw falls slack, tongue lolling in wait. Dion’s eyes shift into something less than human. “Let me know immediately if it’s too much.”

Joshua nods, impatient. Dion forces his lips back over his length then, testing Joshua with slow, shallow thrusts. Joshua grips the backs of Dion’s thighs and relaxes his throat, set on bringing the eikon to pleasure. He moans when Dion hits the back of his throat, tears springing to his eyes.

“So good for me, Phoenix.”

Yes, Joshua wants to keen, wants to ask for more. He doesn’t have to, Dion picking up his own pace once he realizes how much Joshua is able to handle. He watches the prince chase his need, eyes shut and teeth clenched. It’s no wonder this man has legions of fine soldiers under his hand, ready to die for him and his cause. There is a magic about him, not from the mother crystals or from Bahamut, but just him. Dion the prince. Dion the man.

Joshua feels blessed by the flames to watch him unravel.

“I’m going to come,” he rasps. His fingers pull at Joshua’s hair, cock still lodged deliciously in his throat.

Joshua moans low and deep, encouraging. He doesn’t let Dion pull away, nails digging into the backs of his thighs. The prince above him reaches his peak, coating Joshua’s tongue and throat. The sound Dion makes will play in the recesses of Joshua’s mind for the rest of his life.

His hips stutter without rhythm and Joshua continues to swallow until he’s done.

“Goddess,” Dion whispers, back sliding down the wall to join Joshua on the floor.

Joshua tilts his head, watching Dion’s chest heave. “Debt repaid?”

Dion chuckles, head propped against the door. “Abundantly.” He wipes Joshua’s drool and cum ridden lips with his thumb. Joshua’s cheeks heat. Dion follows the blooming flames with his forefinger, down his neck and all the way to his chest. He traces the bit of exposed collar bone. “Beautiful.”

The flush worsens.

His dick still throbs in his pants and he shifts on his knees to alleviate the pressure. Dion notices. “Come here,” he orders, pulling Joshua most of the way into his lap. He kisses him lazily. Joshua keeps it close-lipped, mindful of where his mouth has just been but Dion’s tongue won’t allow it. He pries his lips apart, his kisses cum-drunk and sloppy enough to reduce Joshua to broken whimpers.

Without even looking, Dion undoes Joshua’s pants and slips his hand inside. Joshua gasps right into Dion’s mouth as he starts pumping him. There is enough wetness from his pre-cum to ease the slide. It’s a short affair, Joshua coming in Dion’s palm. Dion doesn’t pull his mouth away until Joshua’s final tremor.

He rests his forehead against Dion’s shoulder. The prince rubs slow circles in his lower back. It makes him sigh. “We’re not going to stop meeting like this anytime soon, are we, Your Highness?”

More slow circles against his spine. “Dion, please.”

Joshua sits up. “Okay, Dion. Joshua.” He points to his chest as if introducing himself.

Dion considers him for a long moment. “Joshua,” he lets the name roll off his tongue, tasting the syllables. “We can stop anytime you’d like.” He smiles like he can read Joshua’s thoughts, the ones that shout protests at losing this.

“Not done with me yet, Joshua?”

Joshua huffs, rolling out of Dion’s lap and standing. He searches the room for a cloth to clean himself with. He tosses another over his shoulder for Dion to catch and handle his own hygiene. He fixes his clothing and readjusts his cloak.

“I should be going.”

“Are you in such a hurry?”

“Well I certainly can’t stay.”

Dion takes a seat on the bed. “Of course not, but the moon is still high.”

Joshua bites his lip. He should leave. He has to leave.

He doesn’t.

He places a knee between his spread thighs, pushing the prince’s shoulders back until he’s flat against the mattress. “Let’s not waste a moment.” Dion meets him in earnest.

***
Three times Dion drains Joshua of his pleasure that night. He’s still damp with sweat when he starts redressing. Dion watches him languidly from the bed. His naked form is on full display, not an ounce of shame. Joshua doesn’t let his eyes linger on that broad chest that was just pressed against his back. He inhales shaky breaths to calm his beating heart. His trembling thighs are still raw from where Dion rutted between them. Luckily his cock is too spent to stir again.

Joshua hops a little to get his pants over his hips. When he’s finished, he faces Dion, at a loss for what to say. A simple goodbye seems out of place but a kiss even more so. Dion must see the internal struggle on his face. He climbs out of the bed and presses a warm kiss to Joshua’s lips.

“Travel safely,” Dion says.

Joshua conjures the smallest of flames in his palms. “I’ll be fine.”

Dion smiles, Joshua’s flames dancing in his irises. “The emperor is hosting a ball soon. Trying to wed me off, no doubt.” His face darkens and Joshua understands him. Fully. The look passes. “I can ensure you receive an invitation.”

Like always, he’s letting Joshua decide their next move. “I imagine the court ladies will be quite cross with me for stealing away all of their prince’s attention.”

Dion rolls his eyes and it’s such a human response that Joshua giggles. “I’ll keep my eye on the post, though.” Joshua kisses him once more before slipping out of the room.

There’s a lot of blood. It’s sticky and hot in Joshua’s tiny hands. The beastman had come out of nowhere. Joshua hadn’t been paying attention, too caught up in daydreams and the countryside.

Only once he’d been thrown off his chocobo did he realize what happened. The prince had pushed Joshua out of the way, taking the brunt of the beast man’s swing in the process. Joshua, acting on instinct alone, conjured enough flame to send the beast flying. Its scorched corpse still smokes nearby.

There’s a large gash on the prince’s head and he looks dazed. “Why did you do that?” Joshua shouts. He lifts shaky hands to the wound.

Clive is there in an instant. He hops off Ambrosia and sprints over to his brother and the prince. He checks Joshua for injuries first and Joshua shakes his hands off. “I’m fine! He pushed me out of the way.”

His brother gives him space to work. Joshua focuses on healing Dion’s wounds. Glowing aether creates a bridge between his palm and the prince’s head. It’s a slow process, stitching someone back together with magic.

Only once the gash is closed does Joshua allow his shoulders to slump and tears to well in his eyes. “You shouldn’t have done that.”

The prince just stares. He hasn’t spoken a word.

Clive goes to corral the frightened chocobos.

Joshua uses his sleeve to wipe blood from the prince’s head. All it does is smear. His blonde head is dripping crimson. “You shouldn’t have!”

The prince looks at his own blood on Joshua’s sleeve. “I didn’t even think about it,” he whispers.

“What?” Joshua cries.

“I didn’t even think about it. I just did it. I didn’t want to see you hurt.”

Joshua’s lip wobbles.

Jill and Clive are whispering at breakfast the next morning. That’s never a good sign. Clive cups his hand over his mouth as he passes some secret message to Jill. Her eyes widen. She looks at Joshua, making it obvious he’s the subject of their clandestine conversation.

Joshua tosses a lump of bacon to Torgal who lazes under the table. “Consider it a reward for not talking about me while I’m in the room,” he says.

Torgal catches the meat in his maw, chomping happily.

Joshua glares daggers at the pair. His temper is shortened from lack of sleep. He didn’t slip back into his rooms until the sun was starting to creep over the horizon. He had maybe an hour of interrupted sleep before Agnes came knocking. Now he’s got two 27 year old school children whispering and giggling about him from across the table.

“Long night, Joshua?” His brother asks innocently.

Jill conceals her laughter behind a delicate hand.

“Two against one, brother? That doesn’t seem fair.”

“I think Torgal is on your side.”

Torgal yips and his tail wags. Joshua pats him on his head. “Thanks for your loyalty, boy. It seems my brother’s is waning.”

Clive laughs, not bothered in the slightest.

“Was he handsome?” Jill asks.

Clive wags his eyebrows. Joshua does his best to ignore him. “There is no ‘he’ because there is no one. It was just an errand.”

Jill taps a finger against her lips in thought. “He must be someone of importance if you’re so adamant in concealing his identity.”

“He must be someone of your imagination because he doesn’t exist.”

“Your brother isn’t good at lying to me either,” she says as she takes a sip of tea.

Joshua lets his head thunk against the table.

****
Within only a few short weeks of their last encounter, the promised invitation arrives. It’s personally addressed to him and signed by Dion at the bottom. He presses the parchment against his pounding heart.

****
Joshua is dressed in another burgundy doublet similar to the one he wore at the last ball. This one has a cape thrown over his right shoulder. The accessory was a last minute addition by the tailor’s assistant. It sways pleasantly when he walks.

They arrived to the party fashionably late as men of Joshua’s stature are almost expected to do. It works out as he doesn’t want to seem overly eager. He hasn’t seen the prince yet and he won’t admit that he’s searching.

“Looking for someone?” Jill teases.

Clive’s ears perk, not unlike Torgal’s. “You think he’s here?”

Joshua’s face flushes and Jill smiles. “Oh, he’s definitely here.”

Jill gently takes Clive’s hand, pulling him away. “Shout if you need us,” Clive calls while they leave.

Once they’re out of sight, he goes back to not looking for Dion. Every blonde head makes his pulse quicken. He’s left feeling equally disappointed and ridiculous every time. He grabs a drink off a tray and forces himself to sip, not gulp. Restless energy thrums under his skin.

He sticks to the outer edges of the festivities. He gently declines dances and only speaks when spoken to. Someone clears their throat nearby. Joshua jumps. The dragoon looks apologetic when he speaks. “Excuse me, Your Grace, but His Highness bids you follow me.”

Joshua swallows and takes a second to compose himself. The dragoon is young with fiery red hair and a messy splatter of freckles across his nose. Joshua takes one last look at the ball before heading after the dragoon.

“Lead the way.”

The dragoon leads him down long hallways dotted with party goers who whisper and laugh in alcoves. Joshua pays them no mind and hopes they do him the same kindness. He wants to ask where the dragoon is taking him but keeps his mouth shut. The party gets quieter and quieter behind them as they wind deeper into the castle and up a winding staircase.

The dragoon stops before a set of ornate double doors, a shocking blue against the white stone walls. “His Highness awaits within.”

Joshua thanks the dragoon as he clatters back down the hall. He lifts his hand to knock but changes his mind at the last second. He pushes one side of the door open unannounced. The intricate swirls carved into the wood leave imprints in his palms.

The door shuts behind Joshua. The room is empty. He takes a quick survey of his surroundings. A massive canopy bed lies in the middle, draped in an assortment of sheer fabrics. A few comfortable looking chairs are scattered about the room. Joshua approaches the desk, a piece of rich, polished wood. Over its top lay an assortment of maps and markers depicting the movements of enemy forces.

There is a solitary bookshelf behind him. He examines the titles, looking for anything he may recognize. The shelves are mostly occupied with books on military strategy. He touches their worn leather spines. One of them sticks out from the rest, shorter and more vibrant. Joshua plucks it from the shelf. It’s dusty and the spine crackles when he opens it.

It's a book of fairytales. It’s the one containing his favorite story of the star and the boy who fell madly in love. He loses himself in memories of long nights as a boy pretending to stomp along the deck of a flying pirate ship and singing sailor’s tunes.

Something falls out and flutters to the ground while he flips through the pages. He bends to pick up the folded piece of paper. He vaguely recognizes it. When he opens and reads it, he understands why.

Prince Lesage,

Since you enjoyed it so much, I decided to give you a copy of your own. It’s newer than mine, so you’ll have to get to work to break it in. Happy 12th birthday.

Joshua Rosfield

Joshua returns the note to its place between pages and sets the book back on the shelf. How could he have forgotten this? He’s suddenly flooded with memories of their tiny traveling book club. Every time they would meet, Joshua would bring a new book for Dion to borrow. Their nations were still working on peace-making at the time, so they saw a lot of one another as boys.

Dion always had a review prepared for each book before he received the next one. He usually wasn’t all that impressed with Joshua’s library, their tastes very different. But Josua knew by the detailed way he spoke that Dion always read them. Even though he disliked most of them, he finished each and every one.

Except this one. This one he praised. So Joshua purchased him a copy of his own. Joshua chuckles fondly for the boys they used to be.

A draft ruffles his hair and catches his attention. A glass door is open at the edge of the room, leading out onto a balcony. He follows the breeze and meets the prince at the balcony’s edge.

“Finished snooping?” Dion asks. His voice isn’t accusatory, only amused.

The moonlight catches beautifully on the edges of Dion’s face. Joshua has to look away. “I was looking through your selection of books,” he admits.

“And what did you think?”

“Boring, really.”

Dion laughs. An ache rises in Joshua’s chest. He coughs to chase it away.

“Cold?” Dion asks, concerned.

Joshua waves him off. “I’m fine.” They watch the moon and she watches back. “Won’t your guests miss you?”

“I showed my face. That will have to be enough to please my father. He can put on as many balls as he’d like, but I’ve no intention of marrying.”

“At all?”

“I know I’ll be forced to settle one day. But that day is far off”

Joshua places a hand over Dion’s on the railing. “I understand.”

They share a long look. Joshua sees himself there and wonders if Dion does the same.

“I think all those fairytales I read as a boy ruined my perspective,” Joshua jokes.
Dion kisses him then, his lips landing on the side of his mouth due to their angle. Joshua sighs into it.

“Follow me,” he says, pulling back.

Joshua doesn’t have time to wade through his foggy mind before Dion is stepping onto the rails of the balcony and leaping off it. In typical dragoon fashion, he lands on the grasses below in a dramatic flourish. Joshua leans over the balcony. “We can’t just take the stairs,” he calls.

“This way’s faster.”

He can’t argue with that. Calling on Phoenix’s feathers, Joshua takes his own leap, gliding down in a flurry of red. Dion looks more than just a tad amazed when his feet lightly reunite with the ground. “Bet your stable boys can’t do that,” he teases.

The smirk he receives in reply is lopsided. Dion grabs Joshua’s hand and pulls him along. He moves briskly, sweeping them off of the castle grounds and into the city. He drops Joshua’s hands once they step onto the cobbled streets. Joshua has to fight to keep from shaking the tingles out of his palm.

The streets are quiet. Only a few townspeople pass them and bow their heads respectfully in Dion’s direction. They weave through the streets with purpose although Dion stops every now and again to allow Joshua a moment to admire something or other. Once they pause to watch the moon’s reflection ripple in a pond and another time to peer through the windows of a closed pastry shop.

“Where are we going,” Joshua asks, catching up to Dion after getting distracted. It’s a shame most of the shops are closed. Joshua itches to explore their racks and displays. The city has a different charm at night though. The moon’s glow mingles with that from Drake’s head. Every cobblestone and brick is tinged with an ethereal blue gleam.

“We’re almost there,” Dion reassures him.

After a few more paces and a turn down a secluded alley, they arrive at a door. Joshua tries to peer in while Dion unlocks it, but all he can see is the reflection of the night sky in the glass. Dion pulls the door open and steps aside so Joshua can enter first.

It’s a bookstore. The best kind. The entire room smells like dust and yellowed pages. Books rest in uneven piles on lopsided shelves. Overflowing stacks decorate the floor, some almost high enough to touch the ceiling. A curious cat pokes its head out from the shelves. Joshua squats to hold his hand out to the creature. It leans into Joshua’s touch, purring.

“Where are we?”

“Master Harpocrates’ shop. If anyone can appreciate this place, it’d be you.”

Joshua recognizes the name. Dion’s tutor? “It’s amazing,” Joshua admits. He disappears down aisles, squinting in the low light to read titles. “He has everything.”

Dion slips by a drooping stack to follow Joshua. “Yes, well, he could probably benefit from an expansion.”

“Thank you for showing me this. I’ll have to come back soon and meet the man myself.”

“You two would have no shortage of topics to discuss.”

Dion let's Joshua explore until they’re back at the front of the shop again. “There are a few more things I’d like to show you.”

Joshua nods. “Let’s go.”

Dion shows Joshua as much of the city as he can in such a short time frame. They stop by his favorite bakery and even stroll along scenic routes. Every landmark they pass comes to life with Dion’s stories. He loves his city, his home.

They walk too close to be friendly, shoulders bumping with every dip in the street. They’re headed back to the castle when Joshua speaks. “You know, the last time I was in Oriflamme for a ball, this is exactly what I wanted to be doing instead.”

“When was this?”

“Five years ago. When you became a dragoon.”

Dion nods thoughtfully. “I don’t recall seeing you that night.”

“We didn’t speak.”

“A shame.”

Joshua scoffs. “You were busy celebrating. I was hiding from my mother with a book in my lap.”

“Not surprising.”

Joshua bumps into him intentionally this time, knocking him slightly off balance. Dion retaliates. They play their childish game, shoving like schoolboys until Dion gets Joshua pressed up against a cobblestone wall.

Their faces are inches apart, both flushed from laughter. Dion watches his lips. Joshua parts them in invitation. Dion accepts it. The kiss isn’t what he’s used to. Dion is slow with it. He cradles Joshua’s face in his palms and licks into his mouth. Something is cracking straight down Joshua’s middle. He clings to the front of Dion’s shirt like he’s afraid he’ll fade to dust.

“Take me to your room,” Joshua gasps.

Dion grabs his hand and drags him back to the castle.

****
This time, they do take the stairs. Hand in hand, they trip over them, taking two at a time. Joshua is giggling when they finally stumble into Dion’s room.

“What’s so funny?” The prince questions.

“I don’t know,” Joshua says, continuing to laugh.

Dion shakes his head and pulls him close again. He’s so glad for his blunder in the Rosalith gardens if this is the result. Dion unlaces Joshua’s clothing and then turns so he can do the same. They alternate removing each other’s garments, leaving a trail all the way to Dion’s bed.

Dion pushes him into it and falls in right after him. Joshua is convinced that if he takes his lips off the prince’s for even a second, he’ll die. Every inch of Dion’s skin drapes over him like velvet. He whines. “Dion, I need you.”

“You have me,” he intertwines their fingers. “In the palm of your hand.”

Joshua groans, seeking more skin. “Not enough.”

“Tell me. What else do you need?”

“Fuck me,” Joshua gasps. He grips Dion’s ass and tugs him closer. No amount of contact will be enough until Dion is inside him.

“Yes,” Dion says, voice wrecked. He kisses Joshua one last time before leaving the bed to grab what they’ll need. Despite the embers within him, Joshua goes cold at the loss of Dion’s touch. He chokes down his protests.

Dion is back quickly, a bottle of oil in tow. Joshua spreads his legs obscenely. He doesn’t even try to hide his body’s desperation. Dion lifts one of Joshua’s legs and kisses the paper thin skin of his inner ankle. His back arches.

“Hurry,” Joshua pleads.

Dion coats his fingers in oil. The initial push has Joshua fisting his hands in the sheets. Dion opens him carefully with whispers of encouragement and teeth marks in his thighs. Joshua’s cock bobs unattended and leaking between his legs. He reaches for it, stroking just enough to take the edge off as Dion adds a third finger.

Dion fucks Joshua slow and easy on his fingers. Joshua’s head rolls side to side on the pillow. He’s a slippery, desperate mess. He throws his head back when Dion finds that spot inside him. “By the flames,” he curses.

“I could watch you writhe for hours, Joshua.” His fingers flex and Joshua sinks nails into his smooth biceps. He kisses the side of his knee. “I think I’d like to see you cry.” He’s moving up Joshua’s body now, marking his trail with heated kisses. He sucks a bruising purple mark into Joshua’s hip and he lets him.

“You’d cry for me and I’d kiss away every tear.”

“Dion,” Joshua whines. It’s the only word he can think of.

This is too much. It’s all too much too quickly. Realizations he’d rather not have blur his vision. Feelings that have sat far too long in his chest rise, choking him. He feels panicked and drowned in the onslaught.

He pulls Dion’s face away from his chest. He has to kiss him. He needs those lips on his so he can breathe. They mouth at one another. Can Dion taste his treacherous thoughts?

Dion tries to pull away but Joshua grabs his face in both palms, refusing to let go. Dion holds Joshua’s wrists reassuringly. “Turn around for me.”

Joshua lets go to comply. He lays face down in the plush sheets, lifting his ass for Dion. It’s vulnerable and sets Joshua’s blood to a boil. He wants to feel Dion's gaze on the most intimate parts of himself. Dion spreads him with a thumb, adding more oil. “Perfect,” he whispers.

The worship in his voice makes Joshua shiver.

He feels the fat head of Dion’s cock nudge his entrance and Joshua preemptively bites down into the pillow. The initial slide is maddening. Dion splits and fills him perfectly. He wants to tell him, but he can’t find the words. He mouths gibberish into the pillow case.

Dion’s chest is flush to Joshua’s back. He’s never been this sensitive to the touch of another. Dion grinds his cock inside him in undulating patterns. “You feel divine,” Dion says into his shoulder.

Joshua clings to Dion’s hand, trying to pull him closer. When he finds his words, all he can do is plead, “Don’t stop.”

Sharp pain lances through his shoulder and it almost sends Joshua tumbling over the edge. It’s Dion’s teeth sinking into muscle out of some ancient, animalistic need. Joshua wants to scream. He wants to beg him to break the skin, to make him bleed.

They’re raw and untethered. Dion grunts, his hips setting a bruising pace against Joshua’s ass. His knees slip against the silken sheets and suddenly he’s flat against the mattress. His aching cock is trapped between his stomach and Dion’s sheets. His eyes roll back.

Dion falls with Joshua, continuing to pound into him mercilessly. He wraps a possessive hand around Joshua’s throat, growling his name in his ear. “Joshua.”

“Keep— ah! Keep saying my name.”

“Joshua,” he groans in obeyance. He bites into Joshua’s shoulder again, teeth finding the same marks as before.

“Gods, yes, Dion.”

Dion kisses the bruising indentations sweetly. “I love how you sing under me, Joshua.” More rough thrusts. “You’re going to feel me for weeks,” Dion promises.

He wants this man to stain him irreparably. No one else will ever touch him without feeling the remnants of the prince. He’s got fresh tears in his eyes. “I’m so close.”

“Me too.”

Joshua reaches behind him enough to paw at Dion’s pistoning hips. “I-Inside,” he demands.

“You’ll be the end of me.” Dion’s voice cracks.

What a beautiful end it would be.

Joshua is the first to peak. He cries Dion’s name as his fists singe the prince’s expensive sheets. Dion continues to move inside him, dragging Joshua’s orgasm out a painfully long time. “Dion, please.”

He feels hips stutter against him before he’s filled with Dion’s warm release. His limbs are completely useless against the mattress as Dion rides out his climax. His full weight settles across Joshua’s back. He’s heavy, but it’s good.

He doesn’t realize he dozed off until he wakes from the sensation of a warm cloth. He hums appreciatively when Dion finishes cleaning him and flips himself over. Dion is still naked, of course, and disposing of the cloth. He brings over a tray with two cups of tea and sets it on the edge of the bed.

“A servant stopped by.”

Joshua rearranges himself so he’s sitting up and his bottom half is covered with a blanket. The porcelain is warm in his fingers when Dion hands it to him. When he takes a sip, he sighs happily. It’s perfectly sweet, just how he prefers it at home.

Dion watches over the rim of his own cup. “I see some things never change.”

Joshua tilts his head to the side, trying to catch his meaning. Dion gestures to the teacup in his palms. “You always took so much sugar for your tea when we were boys. I still don’t see how you can stand it.”

Joshua isn’t sure what to make of Dion remembering such a detail about him. He’s still feeling too exposed from their passions. He finishes his tea and sets it back on the tray. He pulls his knees to his chest and rests his chin there. “Does it make me less of a man?” Joshua teases.

“So we’re measuring masculinity in sugar cubes now?”

Joshua laughs and Dion joins him. Dion places the cups holding their dregs safely on a side table. He stays atop the covers but lays next to Joshua, beautiful head propped up with his elbow. Joshua turns so he can watch him.

“You know, I used to think you were so perfect,” Joshua admits.

“Used to? You wound me Joshua.”

Joshua rolls his eyes and continues explaining his original point. “You were such a prince. Always doing and saying the right things. You even looked the part. I can’t remember ever seeing your hair out of place. Even when you jumped in front of a beastman for me. Even then you were so composed. Bloodied, yes, but perfect.”

“That’s not how I remember it.” He grabs Joshua’s hand. “I remember being terrified.” He lifts Joshua’s fingers to his forehead to feel a wound long healed over. “And then there you were, sewing me back together before the pain could start. Sent the damned beast flying first and all.”

Joshua runs his fingers through Dion’s hair. The blonde locks fall right back into place as if to prove Joshua’s point. “I’m surprised your father ever let you come back to Rosalith after that.”

“I never told him.” He’s holding Joshua’s hand again. “I’m more surprised your brother let us roam beyond the walls ever again.”

“Are you kidding? I thought Clive was going to kiss you when he realized what you’d done.”

Dion’s face scrunches. “I’m glad he abstained.”

Joshua’s shoulders shake with his laughter. “He’s not to your tastes?”

“No and good thing too. I’d prefer not to cross Shiva’s dominant.”

“Jill? No, I wouldn’t advise it. She’s fierce.”

Dion nods. “Besides, there is only one Rosfield brother after my heart.”

Joshua flinches. He jumps out of the bed, snatching his clothing off the floor.

“Joshua, what—”

Joshua ignores him. He shoves his legs into his pants. Is the room getting smaller? It’s just his imagination. He needs to calm down. Dion grabs his arm and Joshua yanks it away. “Don’t, Dion. I need to go.”

“What did I do?”

Joshua’s heart breaks. “Tell me you were joking. You were just flirting.”

Dion respects Joshua’s space but his fingers curl at his sides. Joshua can tell he wants to reach out but doesn’t wish to offend. Even when Joshua is breaking his heart, he puts him first. “About what?”

“Your heart, Dion.”

Dion takes a step back. “Joshua, you can’t pretend you didn’t feel what we just shared.”

“I have to Dion. We have to.”

“Why?” It’s one word punched with anger.

“It can’t work, Dion. Don’t be a fool. We’ll only tear one another apart.” He’s finished lacing his boots. He grabs a cloak off the back of Dion’s chair without asking if he can use it.

Dion follows him to the door. “I’ll take that over nothing. Destroy me a thousand times over, Joshua, I don’t care. Just stay for now.”

“And do what, Dion? Keep sneaking around until our fathers finally marry us off? Steal away for a quick fuck at an inn while our wives and our nations wait for us?” Joshua scoffs viciously. “I won’t live like that.”

“So you’d rather the alternative? To just give up?”

“I’m doing what’s best for both of us.” He’s got his hands on the door now.

“Joshua, those years without you in them were some of the darkest in my lifetime. I can’t go through that again.” He’s pleading and Joshua doesn’t deserve those emotions from him.

Joshua turns to grasp Dion’s hands in his. “I’ve cherished your presence in my life, Dion. Please don’t ever think otherwise. But we cannot bring emotions into this. It has to end.”

“Ever since we were children, Joshua, I’ve—”

“Stop!” Joshua doesn’t mean to shout but it’s already out. He couldn’t let Dion finish that sentence. He can’t let Dion speak the only words that would have the power to keep him here. “It won’t change anything,” he lies.

Joshua opens the door and slips out.

****

Joshua doesn’t know how he gets back to their lodgings, just that when he gets there, Clive is waiting for him.

“You should be asleep,” his voice is small.

Clive grabs him. “Joshua, what happened? You look like shit.”

First, Joshua laughs and then he sobs.

Joshua is bent over with his hand on his knees, trying to catch his breath after the long hike. The prince rests his hand on his back until he regains his breath.

“You said we’re almost there, right?” The prince asks. Joshua knows it's more for his sake than the prince’s. He hasn’t even broken a sweat.

“Yes. Right up ahead.”

They walk side by side, silent. Fireflies watch the young boys curiously as they wind their way to the top of the hill. They finally reach the clearing and Joshua throws out his arms and spins. “See?”

The prince laughs, a rare sound from him. “I figured you were exaggerating, Phoenix.” He stares at the clear view of the night sky. From their vantage point on the crest of the hill, the stars seem close enough to touch. The prince reaches his hand out and halfway expects them to tickle his skin.

Joshua plops down on his back in the grass. He pats a spot next to him. The prince lays back and Joshua smiles like he’s done him some great kindness. “Amazing, isn’t it?”

The prince nods. “It’s like your story book.”

Imitating him, Joshua lifts his own hand towards the sky. His fingers skim the stars. “Yeah, but all these stars are still in the sky.”

The prince looks at him then. “Except one.”

Joshua frowns. “What?”

“It’s nothing.”

“Okay,” Joshua says. Usually he’d push, but he lets this one go.

They lay there amongst the grass and wildflowers in silence, watching the sky shift and sparkle. Neither says a word when the prince grabs Joshua’s hand.

They’re just two boys under the Moon and Metia.

“Phoenix.”

“Yes?”

“Let’s be friends for a long time.”

Joshua squeezes his hand tighter. “Okay.”

It rains for most of their journey back to Rosalith. Clive and Jill are there for him the best they can be but even they struggle to pierce through the real and metaphorical storm clouds lingering over Joshua.

Joshua holds most of the details within himself, but he’s shared enough with Clive and Jill that they have a general understanding of what happened. When he mentions Dion, neither looks surprised and that hurts all the more. Clive assures him that he thinks he made the right decision. Jill remains silent.

Arriving back home to the duchy does raise Joshua’s spirits slightly. At least here he has access to warm baths and fresh clothes. And there’s always plenty of work— paperwork, meetings, plans to draw, correspondences to sign. He works and reads from the moment his eyes open until his head sinks into the pillow. The minutes turn into hours and the hours into days. His father approves of this newfound vigor for their work. His mother compiles lists of eligible ladies. He agrees to meet with them.

He knows Clive is monitoring him closely. It’s like when he was a child. Joshua doesn’t push him away although he wants to. His brother’s warm presence is one he desperately needs right now. Even Jill is more attentive than usual, cupping his cheeks more often and asking if he’ll accompany her on errands.

He’s got his sleeves rolled up to his elbows and knees in the dirt. Jill is arranged similarly beside him. She’s taken to gardening outside the humble cottage she calls home. Joshua helps her from time to time and he can see why she enjoys the task. It keeps his hands occupied and garners beautiful results.

Jill sits back on her haunches, wiping sweat from her forehead. Her long silver hair is pulled back in a thick braid that trails down her spine. “How are you doing, Joshua?”

“A bit hot, honestly,” he says, tugging at a weed from the root.

“You know that’s not what I meant. Your brother and I, we’re worried about you.”

Joshua sits back, mirroring her posture. “I know.” She waits quietly for him to continue. He doesn’t know how he can. Over two months have passed since Oriflamme. The wound in his chest festers and refuses to close. He held no illusions about any of this being easy. He knew carving Dion out of his existence would hurt, but he never expected that it would main him so terribly.

It’s a deep, echoing pain.

“I don’t know how to assign words to it, Jill.” Joshua absentmindedly rubs his chest. “We were close as boys, as close as our circumstances would allow. Then there were so many years that we were apart and the only space he occupied was my mind. But fate couldn’t just leave it at that. I don’t want to believe in gods cruel enough to reunite us just for this.” His fingers are curled in the earth. “I’m drowning.”

Jill unfurls his fists from the dirt and pulls them into her lap. “It doesn’t have to be this way, Joshua.”

“I see no alternative.”

“Make one.” The conviction in her voice startles Joshua.

He opens his mouth to protest but she cuts him off. “If the fight were for anyone else’s benefit, you’d already have won. You deserve this, Joshua. Don’t convince yourself otherwise.”

“Jill, I hurt him.”

She hugs him despite the dirt and sweat. “Then ask for forgiveness.”

****
The crown prince of Sanbreque scowls at the unfurled map before him. His Radiance has them stationed along the Dhalmekian borders again. It’s a stalemate, both sides waiting for the other to strike first. Dion is doing everything in his power to ensure neither country moves at all.

He wants nothing more than to slam his fist into the table. He’s already broken four in the last two months and it's too much of a hassle to call after someone for a replacement. His temperament has worsened tenfold. Even his dragoons have noticed; although, they don’t cross the line to ask what bothers him. For that, he’s thankful.

He collapses onto a bench, pinching the bridge of his nose.

Lately, Dion does his best to stay amongst company. Usually he has a spare dragoon or captain around to strategize with. Otherwise, his mind wanders to the Phoenix—his name a wound still tender to the touch.

He really thought he had him. What a fool I am. To think a few stolen moments could stoke embers long burnt away with time.

The flaps of his tent open. It’s a courier. “Your Highness. A letter has arrived.”

Dion holds out his hand for the parcel. The penmanship is thin and neat.

Prince Dion of the House Lesage,

Although we are hardly more than strangers, I hope you will heed my words. Please do not see me as a meddler in affairs, but as a concerned friend. I will start by saying that I’ve known Joshua for as long as I can remember. I watched him grow and he I. He is kind and strong and too smart for his own good. Even without the power that chose him, he is a force of fire and flame. I write all this though I suspect that none of his finer qualities have escaped your notice. But there is something else about Joshua. It’s a quality I fear he inherited from his brother. There is no question about the lengths he will go to to protect those he loves.The problem lies in his willingness to fight for himself. I do not pretend to know his mind nor do I wish to speak in his stead; however, these past months have been long. I desperately want my brother back. I do not know what the future holds for you two, but I hope the fates will be kind. I only ask that you speak with him. If he pushes you away, pull him closer. Please don’t allow him to give up on himself.

A friend,
Jill Warrick

Dion’s hands are shaking by the time he’s done reading. He grips the edge of the bench to stop the tremors. “Ready my chocobo,” he orders.

His dragoon doesn’t ask questions. He bows and he’s gone.

****

The motions. Joshua goes through them the same as always. He wakes early and takes breakfast alone in his room. He works until his eyes droop, even bringing books to meals to distract his mind. And then once he’s too tired to think, he crawls to his chambers where Agnes already has a warm bath waiting for him. He makes sure to thank her every night before she leaves him.

He sits low in the water now, his chin brushing the liquid surface. He can admit he overdid it today. His body aches from being in the same position for so long, analyzing reports. He’s dangerously close to falling asleep in the tub so he scrubs himself quickly. His skin is pink from the scalding water. One perk of housing an ancient fire bird is infinitely hot baths.

He’s too lazy to pull on proper sleep attire, deciding instead to pull a robe over his form. He falls into his bed face first. He turns his head to look at the cold expanse next to him. He doesn’t imagine another body there.

He falls asleep with his hair wet.

A tapping wakes him. A curious bird perhaps? He rolls over and closes his eyes. The noise grows louder. It’s coming from his window. Joshua slides out of his bed quietly, creeping to the window. A silhouette looms behind his sheer curtains. He conjures white hot flames in his palm and flings the pane open.

The flame in his hand dies immediately.

“Am I dreaming?”

Dion stands before him. He looks haggard—dark circles under his eyes, and usually immaculate white clothing stained with dust. The only thing not in disarray is his hair. Joshua fears nothing short of the end of the world would mess up Dion’s hair.

Joshua reaches out to touch his sleeve. He just has to be sure. His fingers meet cloth. Dion looks at the small point of contact. “I’m here.”

“How?”

Dion hands him a letter, careful to make sure their hands don’t touch. Joshua takes it in a daze. He doesn’t read it fully, just skims. His head is a mess with an actual ghost in his bed chambers. If he pushes you away, pull him closer. He stares at Jill’s signature.

He hands the letter back. “So you decided to come through my window in the middle of the night?”

“I thought it’d be the princely thing to do.”

Joshua wants to laugh but can’t manage it. Instead, he looks Dion in his eye and says, “You look horrible.”

“I rode straight here when I received Lady Jill’s letter.”

Joshua turns from him and pours a glass of water from the pitcher Agnes always leaves on his bedside table. He forces the cup into Dion’s palm. “Drink.”

Dion does. Joshua watches his throat bob, still uncertain this isn’t all just a trick of his own imagination. “Thank you,” Dion says once he’s drained the glass.

Joshua gestures for him to sit and he does. Joshua takes a seat safely across from him, a coffee table between them. Dion’s eyes roam Joshua’s room. He realizes it has been years since the prince has been here and much has changed. Joshua waits self-consciously. His space is nowhere near as pristine as Dion’s was. He doesn’t allow the maids to clean in here despite their protests. Books and parchment lay in haphazard stacks everywhere. Clothes lay over the backs of furniture including the chair Joshua occupies now.

At least nothing is dusty. He takes care to handle that regularly.

Joshua feels like a boy again being forced to sit on his hands to keep from picking at them anxiously. Dion’s eyes rest on a point across the room. Joshua tracks his line of sight to where the cloak he took from Dion’s rooms rests on a hook in the wall. Joshua’s mouth goes dry.

“My cloak,” Dion states.

Joshua drops his head. “I was going to have it mailed to you but—” But what? It would have felt too much like an end? Like Joshua was giving up one of the few tangible items that tie him to Dion? That sometimes, after a long day of work, he would sit at that desk with the cloak around his shoulders and breathe in his scent? Just to pretend there was some part of Dion still draped over him.

“You can keep it.”

He’s glad for it. He can’t imagine how his heart would respond if he was forced to watch Dion walk away with it tonight.

“I’m sorry to keep you from sleep, but I think we have a lot to discuss,” Dion adds.

“We do.” Joshua waits for Dion to start the conversation. He hopes the prince can forgive him for his cowardice.

“There is merit to the words you spoke in Oriflamme. I am a fool and this,” he gestures between them, “could lead us to ruin. But these months have been torture. You said we have to end things before emotions get involved, but mine already were. They have been since we were boys.”

“Dion,” Joshua whispers.

“And I think you’re right. This may end horribly for both of us. You described the way you refuse to live, so I will do the same. I won’t live the rest of my days with regrets of not even trying to fight for us.”

“Dion,” Joshua repeats.

“I’ve no intention of forcing your hand. If you tell me to leave, then I will. But I cannot promise to stay away forever.”

Joshua stands for no other reason than he cannot sit still any longer. He feels out of breath without having done anything to cause it. His legs move without his consent. He stands right in front of Dion, looking down at his vulnerable expression. His fingers twitch with the desire to touch his face.

“I’m terrified,” he admits.

Dion grabs his hand and pulls it to his lips. He kisses each one of Joshua’s knuckles. “Me too.”

Joshua’s laugh is a strangled sound. “What are we going to do?”

Dion is still holding his hand. “We’re going to try.”

Joshua’s hands shake. “Okay.”

Dion kisses the palm of his hand. Joshua could cry. He pulls at the knot tying his robe closed, revealing his nakedness to Dion. The sound the prince makes is that of a man dying. He kisses Joshua’s bare belly button. The motion is reverent and Joshua curls his fingers through Dion’s scalp.

“You’re beautiful,” Dion whispers into his skin. He takes Joshua’s soft cock into his mouth and his knees almost buckle. He holds onto Dion’s hair to keep afloat. His roots are greasy from his travels but Joshua doesn’t mind in the slightest.

Dion worships him. There is no other word for how vehemently Dion cares for Joshua’s body. He’s already dangerously close to tears. Joshua gently pulls Dion to his feet to hold his face in his hands. “Take me to bed,” he whispers.

“I’m dirty.”

“I don’t care.”

Dion looks like he wants to protest so Joshua kisses him. Dion’s armor cuts into his bare front but the pain is freeing. It means he’s real and here. They both are. He pulls back only to drop the robe from himself and lead Dion to the bed by the hand.

“Make love to me.”

It’s the most beautiful thing Joshua has ever seen, watching Dion’s resolve crack.

He helps Dion remove his dressings and armor quickly. Time turns syrupy slow once they’re both bare and tangled in Joshua’s sheets. Their mouths never part, not even to breathe. They steal oxygen from one another instead. Joshua is panting into Dion’s mouth, the other’s spit on his chin.

They kiss for what feels like hours until they’re both so hard it cannot be ignored. Joshua gets a hand around Dion’s steely length and moans like it's his own cock he’s touching. It's so hot in his palm and he needs it inside him. He needs not a bit of space to exist between them.

“I can’t believe I ever thought I could live without this,” Joshua says, stroking Dion.

Dion moans, rutting against Joshua’s hip. “I’ve every intention of making you mine.”

The words set Joshua’s back to arching. “I already am.”

Dion nearly bends Joshua in half, forcing him to hold the bottoms of his thighs. He devours Joshua so that he’ll never forget those words. Dion’s tongue writhes inside him, joined by a finger for the stretch. Joshua’s fingers reach under his pillows and pull out a vial of oil. He just about throws it at the prince.

Dion grabs the oil, eyebrows raised at where Joshua kept it hidden. “The nights have been long,” is the only explanation he offers.

He coats his fingers generously and begins to unravel the Phoenix. “Did you think of me, Joshua?”

Despite only doing this once, Dion remembers exactly how to touch him. “I tried not to,” he says between whimpers. “But I couldn’t help it.”

Dion places sweet kisses against Joshua’s thighs and hips. “Shh, it’s alright. I don’t mind.”

“I love the way you touch me,” Joshua moans, hips rolling. Dion’s got him stretched around 3 fingers now, bets he could fit a fourth. His whole hand. Fuck.

“Mmm, I adore the way you respond, Joshua. There are so many ways that I’ll have you undone.” Joshua shifts under the words. “But not tonight. Tonight I’ll have you coming on my cock.”

“Yes,” Joshua absolutely keens. He’s gagging for it.

Dion slips his fingers free and slides himself in all in the same motion. Joshua sees stars dancing before his vision. He locks Dion in place with his legs around his waist. Dion’s pace is perfect. He knows just how to move to have tears springing to Joshua’s eyes.

Dion connects their mouths in an uncoordinated kiss. Joshua’s chest is full to bursting and he doesn’t know how to respond so he rakes blistering trails down Dion’s spine with his nails. “Dion!” He cries out.

Dion kisses him quiet, but Joshua turns his head. Dion slows his thrusts. “What is it?” His voice is absolutely wrecked.

Joshua didn’t ask him to slow but appreciates it so he can think. “What were you going to say that night?”

Dion halts completely. He brushes sweaty hair off of Joshua’s forehead. He looks him in the eyes when he says, “I was going to tell you I love you.”

The tears that have brimmed Joshua’s eyelashes finally fall. He knows he isn’t a pretty crier, but he can’t help it. His nose crinkles and his lip wobbles and he cries. Just as promised, Dion kisses away every single tear.

“I love you too,” he says. The feeling is like taking flight for the first time. It’s freedom unlike any other. Open air and sky in every direction. He doesn’t fear falling because he’s got more than one set of wings to rely on. Dion is there too. He has been his whole life.

They get lost in one another. Dion is kissing him when Joshua comes. Dion finds release almost in the same breath.

****
When Joshua wakes, his face is pressed against Dion’s chest and a warm thigh is thrown over his hips. The dragoon still sleeps. Joshua takes the opportunity to wipe away his own drool from Dion’s pecs, embarrassed.

He tilts his head upwards just enough to behold his sleeping face. He’s so soft like this. The usual wrinkle between his brows is gone and his lips are parted. Joshua wants to kiss him so he does. It’s just an innocent brush of lips, but he should have known it would wake the dragoon.

Dion moans sleepily into the kiss and it's a sound that Joshua will never, ever forget. “This is how mornings ought to be,” Dion says. He already looks so much better than he did yesterday.

“I’d never get anything done if that were the case,” Joshua teases.

Dion uses his body weight to flip them over so Joshua rests atop his chest. “I’m sure we could get something accomplished.”

Joshua swats at his chest playfully. “That insatiable, are you?”

Dion’s hands squeeze Joshua’s ass before his fingers graze his swollen hole. Joshua’s breath hitches. “I’ll never get enough of you.”

“Is that so?” Joshua reaches over his head to grab the discarded vial of oil. He oils Dion’s cock and sinks onto it.

Dion grits his teeth and Joshua makes sure the prince comes first.

Once they are fully sated, Dion is content as ever to lay in his nakedness. Joshua forces him to at least don a robe because he can’t trust himself otherwise. Breakfast is delivered to his room like it is every morning and they take turns feeding one another.

When they’re done, Joshua wipes Dion’s mouth and pulls him to the bath. It’s comical at first trying to fit both of their long limbs into the same tub. They make do and Joshua keeps the bathwater warm. They sit facing one another, legs overlapping. Joshua traces every line on Dion’s face with a wet finger. Dion watches him.

“I can see you, Dion.”

“I can see you too, Joshua.”

****
Lady Jill,

I want to thank you for your words. My pride tells me that I would have gone to see Joshua even if your letter hadn’t arrived, but I know my stubbornness would have prolonged it. As I’m sure Joshua has shared with you, we’re making this work. It’s been far from easy, but we’re trying. The both of us. It may sound silly, but we swore a pact like boys do. We promised not to give up on each other or ourselves. It’s slow-going and sometimes the distance between us is unbearable. But I love him and he loves me. That’ll always be enough for me to keep fighting.

Stay well and try to keep my love out of trouble when I’m not around.

Your Friend,
Dion

P.S. Please tell him to stop reading in bed with that ball of flame of his. He’s going to burn all of Rosalith to the ground.