marlowemuses | Fools in Love, for gentry

Gansey let out a soft sound when they parted. He was still feeling quite sensitive, and losing the pressure of Laurent around him left him feeling awfully bare. It was a moment of loneliness, short as it was, and Gansey wanted to reach out to brush away the tears for his lover. But there was still pride, perhaps some old habits that no doubt died hard, so the hand that rose in response slowly dropped.

It was strong, his desire to help Laurent clean up. While Laurent cleaned himself up Gansey followed suit, taking the rag and cleaning his chest off. He would need a bath but it would do, for now. It almost hurt, how quickly Laurent zipped back up, but Gansey knew it had nothing to do with him. So he shook his head, scrubbing his skin clean as he could.

"No, I don't think so. We can take our time."

Laurent was welcome to borrow what he wanted and Gansey said nothing—were it someone else he might not have appreciated them touching his desk, but Laurent was different. It was too long, the time between his lover standing to fetch some writing things and then tucking back into the bed. Once he returned, their legs tangled and Gansey slid down, turning on his side, face toward Laurent.

"Do you mind if I close my eyes for a few moments?" Normally he found it difficult to sleep, even more so to sleep around other people, but this was okay. They'd been up for quite some time and spent a lot of it running around; he wanted to doze, curled up next to his lover. It would also afford Laurent some privacy as he wrote his letter.

Laurent smiled, bending down so that he could kiss Gansey's cheek. "I love you," he whispered.

His hand settled into Gansey's hair, toying idly with it as he arranged himself so that he could balance his writing board and still manage to write without taking his hand from Gansey's hair. He'd only just settled when he then set down the writing board and tugged Gansey's arm around his waist. "Don't let go," he murmured. "Please."

Only then was he satisfied, settling in so that he could write. His fingertips combed gently through Gansey's hair, gentle and affectionate, satisfied that Gansey would hold close to him even as he slept. "I'll keep watch," Laurent promised, though he trusted that the castle was safe and had guards aplenty, especially near the tower of the crown prince.

"I won't," Gansey promised, having had no intention of letting go. More than anything, it was close contact that he wanted as he dozed. The feeling of Laurent's hand settling into his hair almost had him rolling like a dog, a trickle of happiness finding its way down his chest, a warmth that he'd so recently come to know as love.

With his arm slung around Laurent's waist, the best place to rest his head was along his lover's chest or belly. He settled on the spot between, nestling his face against Laurent's waist, half on his lover and half on the pillow. It was incredibly comfortable, like Laurent was a pillow. A warm pillow.

"Thank you," he smiled, pressing a gentle kiss along Laurent's ribs. "Wake me up when you're finished, okay?" Not that he expected to fall heavily asleep, even if he was still riding the coattails of his orgasm.

"Then we'll..."

He yawned and stretched his legs out, rubbing his forehead against Laurent's side with affection as the fingers combing his hair lulled him to sleep, "Then we'll go to the garden." His eyelids fluttered shut and his breathing became light, evenly paced, as he dozed.

Laurent didn't wake him. He finished the letter to his father, then the one to his brother. Gansey was still sleeping, so Laurent took another sheet of paper, and folded it, then again, and again, sharpening the creases and tearing the sheet into sixteen small squares.

On each, he wrote I love you, and folded it, making a tiny pile of folded papers on the bed. When he had finished, he made a second set of sixteen.

Then came the process of extricating himself from Gansey. Petting his lover's hair coaxingly, he gently dislodged Gansey's arm, squirming out from under him. "I'll be right back," he murmured, slipping away and checking to make sure Gansey was still asleep.

Satisfied with his escape, Laurent wandered around the room, still naked. He took books from the shelf and put a folded paper between the pages of every third book, and every second book of the ones left on the desk. He tucked one into the pocket of Gansey's trousers on the floor, and more into the pockets of several more of his outfits in the wardrobe. He found winter clothing at the bottom of the wardrobe, and made sure that a few of the papers went into those. Everywhere he could find that Gansey might discover--in days, or months, or years--he tucked a little slip. When there were only ten remaining, he dropped them all into his own pocket, intending to see how many he could sleight of hand into places around the castle, as long as he could be sure that only Gansey would discover them.

Pleased with his little plan, Laurent slid back into bed, snuggling into Gansey's arms and kissing at his cheeks and lips to wake him.

On some level, Gansey registered when it was much cooler, his warm pillow having gone missing. But between sleep and comfort (plus the whisper of ...right back) he didn't stir. The bed was still warm and the real pillow soft. All he did was murmur and wrap his arm around the pillow instead, only slightly unsettled. Totally oblivious to Laurent's little papers, he dozed, dreaming about blond hair and light eyes.

When Laurent slid back into the bed, Gansey's arm raised back up on instinct to wrap around his lover. Kisses coaxed him to open his eyes, even if it had been a delightful nap. So rarely did he ever nap. Sleep was a strange beast to him; that was what happened, when one was plagued by too many thoughts. It was different with Laurent. Laurent made him quiet, made those voices silent when they were together. It was peaceful. If Gansey was sunlight to Laurent, then Laurent was the serenity of night to Gansey.

His eyes opened slowly as he stretched, draping more heavily against Laurent. "Mm... you're very comfortable, you know." Again, he was quite reluctant to even entertain the thought of getting out of bed. Alas. "You've finished your letters, then?"

It was around time for dinner, he knew, but he was even less inclined to go attend. No one would really miss them. They had gone the last few days. Skipping would be fine.

"Mhm," Laurent confirmed, stealing a few more soft kisses and reveling in Gansey's warmth. "Told my father how devotedly I adore the handsome prince who stole my heart." Smiling, he hugged close, breathing Gansey in and letting his fingertips trail along Gansey's side. "I don't want to get up. Though I suppose I am rather in need of visiting that tailor, and we'll be expected at dinner in an hour or so? It seems far more appealing to stay in bed."

He sighed, taking a kiss and smiling. "I'm sorely tempted to go another round, but I fear that might be more than I could deal with."

Swallowing, Laurent's smile faded a little, and he tucked his head against Gansey's shoulder. "I hate being kept from what I want. I should be able to just let... that go. It's in the past. It can't touch me here."

When his lover tucked his head, Gansey's fingers found their way to that flaxen hair. Gently, he smoothed it back, the other hand resting against the small of Laurent's back.

"It is in the past," he agreed, quietly, "but that doesn't mean it can't hurt. It's okay." Still, he didn't what it was, and he wasn't sure if it was all right to ask. "You're strong, Laurent. Whatever it was—I know we'll be able to work through it. Together." As they said: time heals all things. Maybe it simply hadn't been enough time. Slowly, they'd work through whatever plagued his lover's memories.

"As for dinner... let's skip." He gave his fiance a cheeky smile, "They won't miss us and we'll have more fun on our own." Leaning in, he quickly pressed a kiss to Laurent's temple. "And if you want to go another round, well... I would be delighted. Though, perhaps something a little less exhausting on you."

Laurent's smile was a little more tentative, eyes falling away. He toyed with the possibility of telling Gansey, and how much to tell him, if so.

After a moment, he shook his head, pulling away. He reached for his clothes, dressing quickly and suddenly feeling vulnerable and exposed. The quick turn in his happy mood made him all the more miserable, and he struggled not to let himself dwell, not to let himself even think of it.

It didn't work, and his defenses only rose as he dressed, making him feel twitchy and illogical, which only made his frustration spiral higher.

Desperate to derail his rising emotions before they turned into a flare of his infamous temper, Laurent reached for Gansey again, hugging both arms around his waist.

"I've never told anyone, you know," he whispered, clinging hard to his lover.

The switch of his mood wasn't difficult to sense. Half-expected, even, now that Gansey was beginning to learn more about his fiance. Which was why he let Laurent go when he pulled back and shook his head, remaining calm and trying to exude a soothing aura while Laurent quickly dressed. Gansey was not quite so quick about his own dressing; he pulled on his britches and left his tunic off.

While he was learning Laurent's reactions, Gansey wasn't quite sure what the best way to handle them was, just yet. Space, or closeness? Words, or silence? So he gave room first—it was part of his nature to try and adapt quickly and accordingly, the skill having been impressed upon him from a young age.

Arms wrapped around his waist and Laurent clung hard. Gansey rubbed his back in small circles, trying to help Laurent back off whatever negative emotions he might be feeling.

Never told anyone? Oh, Laurent. No one should suffer through their terrors alone. The thought that ... whatever it was had plagued Laurent and he had no consolation... it made Gansey's chest hurt.

"When you're ready to talk... I'd like to listen," he said. The past was the past. He'd give up the crown itself if he could go back and time and halt whatever happened but that was impossible. But he could listen. He could be vented to. If that was something Laurent could ever bring himself to do—speak.

It was easier, Laurent thought, now that they'd had sex. He felt nervous and defensive, worried that if he confessed, Gansey might refuse him sex--just like mentioning his aversion to touch had made Gansey stop touching him. The last thing he wanted was to be treated like a delicate crystal vase, even if the metaphor was apt in more ways than one.

And yet, at the same time, Laurent needed him to understand. The slight disconnect in their communication as Gansey assumed incorrectly felt like a deception, and miscommunication between them wrenched Laurent's heart.

"I was raped, Gansey," he said, voice flat and face safely hidden against Gansey's throat. He left it at that, for now, nails starting to dig into Gansey's back as he clung.

Terrible.

That was his first thought. What a terrible thing. And with that, so many other things made sense. Even if he'd prepared himself for the worst, his chest still hurt with the confession, and his eyes stung—he was glad Laurent was nestled into his shoulder. While he did not shed tears, there was a glassy, wet look to them that Gansey would not want Laurent to see.

And, truly, he did not know what he could say that would soothe or help ease the ache. If Laurent had not wanted to have sex they wouldn't have; Gansey trusted that Laurent would have stopped him if he didn't really want it. But those were some cruel ghosts.

He continued to rub his hand gently against Laurent's back. Never told anyone about it... so that meant that no one knew? Except his attacker, and whoever they decided to tell? Which was likely no one. One would probably not brag when it was a prince. Publicly.

"Oh, Laurent..." he sighed, closing his eyes, still beside the hand smoothing its way up and down his lover's back. "You really are strong."

Laurent was startled by that reaction, having never thought of himself as strong. He'd always beaten himself up for not having reacted better, for not having dealt with the situation better, for having allowed himself to be deceived and manipulated.

Puzzled as he considered Gansey's perspective, Laurent lifted his head enough to kiss his lover's cheek, then rested his head on Gansey's shoulder, slightly calmer now. "I don't feel strong. I hate that I still allow it to bother me. The physical aspect of it--it's nothing. It's just bodies and physical reactions. I shouldn't be so sensitive. What bothers me is that I was successfully manipulated for so long. I should be smarter than that. Stronger than that."

His perspective was skewed with denial, having told himself that the physical violation didn't matter. He'd always chosen to focus on the mental and social aspects of his situation, blaming himself for being so naive.

Gansey was quiet for a moment, slowing the rubbing of hand so he was merely embracing his fiance. The kiss to his cheek was welcome, but Gansey was lost in his thoughts. Many, many thoughts. But if there was anything coherent in his mess of a mind, it was one thing.

"It's not your fault." He said that with firm conviction, not a hint of doubt anywhere to be found. "Whoever it was—they should never have taken advantage." Turning his head again, his tone became softer. "I know that I'm idealistic. I know it's a cruel, tough world we live in, and that politics aren't kind. But ... that's not your fault, Laurent. Never your fault. Even physically... I think, it's not nothing. It matters. Your feelings are valid."

Why would Laurent react so poorly to losing control if the physical violation didn't matter to him? There was no manipulation going on between them.

"I hope you can believe me." It made his heart ache, painfully, to think that Laurent might not.

"I know it... it wasn't my fault," Laurent said, hesitant. There was a catch in his voice, an unsaid 'but' that he lingered over. "He manipulated me. Abused me. For years."

He shuddered, eyes wincing shut. "I just hate that I was so stupid. I believed him. I thought that he was my only ally, the only person who wanted my company. He isolated me from the people who could have interfered, and I was too naive to realize it."

Laurent slid down, resting his arms across Gansey's lap and hiding his face in them. He felt agonized with guilt. "I don't want my father and brother to know. It will only hurt them."

Laurent slid down and Gansey brushed his hair, smoothing it away from his neck and shoulders. Even if Laurent claimed he knew it wasn't his fault... the but was audible, even if it wasn't said.

For years. Oh, how he ached for Laurent. How could this man not think himself strong? Who could survive for so long, still manage to keep together, after being abused and isolated for so long? Gansey pressed his lips together. Years. Years and years of hurt. They both had their demons but they were so vastly different—Gansey was no stranger to terror, but it was a different kind. He had never been isolated by another other than his own accord.

"... But what about you?" he asked, voice terribly soft. "You've been hurt. And they love you, Laurent." It was Laurent's decision if he wanted to tell them, of course, but Gansey could help but feel that they would want to know. As someone that also loved Laurent... if something went on and he was unaware, he would be furious to discover it too late. Mostly furious at himself for not noticing, and furious for Laurent.

"You weren't stupid. He was cruel, and worked very purposefully to ... to do what he did." Gansey bit his lip, gently caressing Laurent's hair still. "Underhanded tactics. No one is fully immune to such deception. Absolutely no one."

"I cannot allow myself to ever be deceived like that again. I was naive. I'll never allow myself to be naive again. Or you." Laurent's eyes flicked up, briefly, a moment of calculation in them. "I suppose that's for the best. You need a cynic at your side. I need a dreamer at mine."

Hugging tight to him, Laurent stayed quiet for a long time, occasionally shuddering. His fingers twitched and stroked at Gansey's thigh as he thought and mulled things over, becoming increasingly tactical as he thought. Several major things had changed in his circumstances in the past days, and now he was beginning to reconsider the problem.

"It would put Vere in danger of civil war. I'd need to be present to testify. Which further means I'd need you there to keep me from emotional collapse. It'd have to be after the wedding." Sitting up partway, Laurent stared into space, faraway with his schemes. "My uncle is the second most powerful man in the kingdom. He's worked for years to make himself untouchable. Any accusation I made would be in opposition to his influence and power. It really would risk civil war. He would simply persuade his factions that I was lying, and try to turn them against my father."

Drawing his teeth over his lower lip, Laurent wound his fingers through Gansey's, holding tight to him. "But if I had the weight of our alliance with the Raven Kingdom behind me, in addition to all the power and influence of my father and brother--that would be more than enough."

Gansey was all right with the quiet. It allowed him some time to think—over time, he supposed, he could soften how Laurent felt about the situation. How that being naive was not the worst thing in the world; those who took advantage, those who manipulated trust, those who used their power for nefarious purposes were the ones to blame. But, they both knew that their positions didn't allow for too much dreaming. Gansey was the kind of man that wanted to believe anything. The royal blood in him, however, compelled him to see the logic in what Laurent had to say. Neither of them could afford to be taken advantage of.

He continued to brush Laurent's hair with his fingers. When he heard who it was, Gansey pressed his lips together again. It was a sticky situation. His uncle? Civil war was no laughing matter. Especially against such a strong opponent—it was almost enough to make Gansey curse, and he never cursed. It was decidedly uncivil.

"You'll be my husband," he said, curling a lock of hair around his finger, "and once we're married, my kingdom is yours. You'll have our full support." There was no doubt in his mind that his mother would feel the same, assuming that Laurent remained true to them. Assuming Laurent would win the favor of the kingdom (and no doubt he would, charming thing), the people would be fully on board with supporting the king's consort.

Their fingers wound together and Gansey squeezed Laurent's hand to assure him, "I will stand with you through anything."

"The symbol of you should be more than enough, along with an entourage befitting a visiting royal heir and his husband." Laurent kissed his cheek, quickly warming to the idea of justice if he had such strong odds of winning.

Brow furrowing slightly with thought, Laurent studied his face. "You've changed me," he said, surprised by the realization. "In just a few days. You've utterly won my trust and coaxed me to discard my defenses. With you, I'm always safe, always adored. And it has changed me."

Bemused and awed, Laurent kissed him with soft reverence. "I love you," he murmured against Gansey's lips, grounded again in trust and love for Gansey.

Gansey's lips finally quirked back into a smile, returning the kiss with equal reverence. He was inclined to follow whatever Laurent thought best; it was his home, and he knew how sharp the barbs were. At the very least, Henry would be happy to hear that they would be going on a trip. If there was anyone to take along, it was that one.

Tracing along the side of Laurent's face with gentle fingers, Gansey leaned in to give his fiance another soft, adoring kiss. "I love you too." Laurent was the first one he ever said those words to—beside his family, of course, but it was a vastly different kind of love. And if Gansey had his way, Laurent would be the last person he'd say them to.

"I'm giving you nothing less than you deserve. You should always be adored and loved. As your lover, it's my privilege to give it to you." Certainly so, if the puppy dog eyes he gave Laurent all too often were any indication of how much affection he truly had. The fact that he now knew that Laurent had suffered so much at the hands of his uncle... it made Gansey want to give him more love and affection than ever before.

"You've changed me too, you know. I've never felt so—attached to anyone before. I didn't know my feelings could be so strong." Tugging their twined hands up, Gansey pressed Laurent's hand to his chest, so that his lover's palm was flat over where his heart was beating. "You're what I've been looking for, for so many years. The piece of my heart that was missing."

Laurent smiled at the words, utterly charmed. His cheeks flushed, staring at Gansey and then dropping his eyes shyly, but he couldn't bear to look away for long. Within moments his eyes were drawn back up, grinning irrepressibly as he watched his lover.

"You should probably put a shirt on," Laurent said, though his fingertips traced idle circles on Gansey's chest as he said so. "Much as I shall hate to lose the view. We ought to get some kind of dinner. And see the tailor, if I haven't completely drained the working hours of the day."

"As you wish," he said with a smile, reaching out for his tunic. Much as he would love to lounge around and embrace Laurent for the rest of the evening, there were things to be done. Surprises to be had. And he would not want his morning excursion to go to waste.

Moving so he could pull on his shirt, he continued, "The tailor would not mind at all, even if he decided to retire for the evening. One look at you and he'll be begging to put you in some of the latest fashions." Gansey laughed, "I'm rather old-school, I guess you could say. My choices bore him to tears. Ah, or maybe the tears aren't from boredom." Gansey often dressed like he was well into his golden years, when he had to dress up. Classic, he called it. Old, Helen called it.

"And we'll sneak something from the kitchens before we head out." Stretching, finally fully dressed with even a pair of shoes, he offered Laurent his arm so they might head down to the main hall.

"What colors do you wear? Mostly blues?"

"Mostly blues," Laurent confirmed, as they tidied themselves up and prepared to leave the room. "Blue and gold are the colors of the Veretian heirs, with full gold for the king. I've always worn a very dark blue, because it makes me look untouchable. I suppose I might branch out a bit, here. Are there any colors I should favor or avoid, for political reasons?"

He was pleased at the prospect of being fashionably dressed, and hadn't forgotten the promised surprise. He had a strong suspicion as to what it was, but would never want to spoil Gansey's surprise by hinting as much. Especially since he had a surprise of his own just waiting for Gansey to put his hand into his pocket.

They headed down the spiral stairs together. Gansey gave the question some thought, "Our colors are generally greens and silvers. The King and Queen usually wear something green—even if it's merely an accent piece. There are occasions when we are expected to wear all white or all black."

Once they reached the bottom, Gansey held the door open for Laurent and then closed it behind them, making way down the hall toward the tailor's rooms. Yet to stick his hand in his pocket, the young prince remained unaware of what playful scheme Laurent had pulled.

"We tend to avoid red. It has a long history of being worn by rebels or kingdoms we've been at war with. Not that it's never worn, of course, but we at the very least tend to stay away from it."

From the smells wafting down the hall, dinner was almost ready to be served. They turned away from the hustle and bustle of the court and the dining hall, however. The tailor was not too far from there, for the sake of convenience.

"I think you would look very lovely in any color you decide to wear."

"Good thing I don't much like red," Laurent said, turning pale and shuddering a bit. He was glad to be distracted by the smell of food, and smiled as they arrived at the tailor's workroom.

All smiles and charm as he entered, Laurent allowed Gansey to make introductions, then began to chat with the tailor with what he wanted and the colors and fabrics he preferred. He wanted mostly outdoor clothing that the two of them could go riding and adventuring in, but that would be suitable if they were called into a formal situation. Happy to try some of the more adventurous fashions, Laurent approved several designs. The tailor made quick work of his measurements, and then they were free again.

Relaxing once the measurements were done, Laurent hugged Gansey again, cuddling into his arms.

Gansey was content to allow Laurent to take control once the introductions were made. Standing back, that was when he slipped his hands into his pockets to relax against the wall. With an arched eyebrow he took the small square of paper from his pocket—he didn't think he had anything in them—and looked at the note. It made him smile instantly. What a sly cat, indeed. When had he done that?

Gently, Gansey folded the note again and returned it to his pocket. It was something he would keep. The idea that there might be more didn't even cross his mind.

When Laurent finally returned to his arms, he buried his face into his lover's hair. "I love you too," he said, quite happily, leaving a light kiss against his lover's forehead once he pulled back enough to do so. "How about we grab some food and head to the gardens? There's still a surprise I want to give you."

Upon Laurent's agreement, he offered his arm once more and lead the way to the kitchens. They were busy, at the height of meal time, but Gansey was able to snag a few plates of food and slide them into a basket that they could steal away. "I usually don't like to eat dinner with the court," he admitted with a sheepish smile. "I make enough appearances to satisfy them, and then spend the rest of the time on my own."

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