Ficin nimi: change the game
Kirjoittaja: Rosmariini
Ikäraja: K-11
Fandom: Captive Prince
Tyylilaji: fluff haikealla pohjavireellä
Paritus: Damen/Laurent
Kieli: Englanti
Vastuuvapaus: Captive Prince on alkujaan C.S. Pacatin käsialaa, hahmot siis kuuluvat hänelle.
Yhteenveto: Vuoden kuluttua Laurentin kruunajaisista, Damen alkaa pohtia naimisiinmenoa. Laurentin taivuttelu on kuitenkin helpommin sanottu kuin tehty.
A/N: Juhannustaikatopassa
valokki oli toivonut Captive Princeä jossa saa olla kesäisyyttä, hellyyttä mutta myös haikeutta. Tämän seurauksena päädyin lueskelemaan hieman antiikin Kreikan häärituaaleista ja shakista ja pohtimaan Akieloksen ja Veren välisiä eroavaisuuksia naimisiinmenoriitteihin liittyen. Olen myös sitä mieltä, että vaikka Kings Rising loppui aika hyvin Damenin ja Laurentin osalta, heillä oli sen jälkeen vielä paljon käsiteltävää, ja etenkin Laurent päätyy helposti yliajattelemaan vähän kaikkea ja kyseenalaistamaan heidän suhteensa aitoutta. Toivottavasti tästä tekstistä on iloa! ♥
change the game
It began as a jest, a clever sidenote. Light and airy as the breeze that tugged upon Damianos’ chiton, bright against his sun-browned skin.
“Perhaps I should court you”, he said.
Laurent almost brushed the words aside, as he did to his own wind-swept hair. It had grown long in the Akielon heat, like these moments spent in the marble gardens of Ios. It was their second summer there, after Laurent’s ascension. “Pardon?”
“Court you”, Damen repeated, slower, this time, then changed to Veretian and repeated the same.
“I am aware of the Akielon phrase ‘to court’”, Laurent snapped, back in Damen’s language. Although the syllables still came out harsh on his tongue, his understanding had improved during their time together. “It is your reasons that puzzle me.”
“Just something that came to mind”, Damen shrugged, all loose shoulders and an easy smile. “When we get back to Marlas, perhaps.”
“Perhaps”, Laurent said. They did not speak of it again in Ios. But that did not mean that Damen had forgotten.
*
“My father told me a story, once, on how he courted my mother.”
Damen’s words were flung over the back of his horse, on the road from Ios to Marlas. They were riding still within Akielon borders, along one of those high, sandy hills with olive groves that crept down from the sea. From their vantage point they could still see Ios, its white cliffs and marble columns a pale glimmer against the cerulean sky.
“They met each other when my mother was first brought to Ios, among other suitors”, Damen continued, seeing that Laurent did not protest. “When the others offered to dance or sing their way to the king’s graces, my mother invited father to a game of pebbles.”
Laurent furrowed his brows, unfamiliar with the term. “Pebbles?”
Damen searched for words for a moment. “It’s a game where opponents move pieces on a board.”
“Like chess?”
“Like chess”, Damen nodded. The motion made his horse sway. “As you know, pebbles - or chess - is a game of strategy. A game of the mind. My father had played it since he was a small child. Many of his courtiers considered him undefeatable. That was before mother played him.”
“She won?”
Damen chuckled. “She obliterated him. In public, father accepted his defeat with grace. But behind closed walls, he was furious for weeks. It took an entire month until he wanted to play again.”
“I understand”, Laurent said. “I used to play when I was younger.”
He didn’t say -
before my brother died. Laurent had given up the activity since. He wondered whether his hands would still remember the motions.
“What about you?” he continued, letting the ache of the memory fade into a dull throb.
“No”, Damen shook his head. “My father tried to teach me sometimes, but I never had the patience for it. I flung the board to a wall the moment I found myself stuck.”
Laurent smiled at the mental image. “Or you ate the pieces.”
“Nourishing”, Damen commented. “Anyway. My mother… I never knew her. She always felt distant. But as I’ve gotten older I’ve realized that I seek her out. First in Jokaste, then you.”
Laurent paused. He wasn’t sure how he felt being compared to Damen’s former lover.
“She would have liked you”, Damen said. “My mother, I mean. I think our families would have gotten along.”
Perhaps, Laurent wanted to say.
In another life. He remembered Damen’s father, Theomedes. Laurent’s own father, Aleron, had despised the man, and that hatred had passed on to his sons.
That’s what Akielons are. Dishonorable. Savage.But Damen had taught him that things could be different. The first time Laurent had seen Damianos, he had hated him with every breath in his body.
Prince-killer. Your family took everything from me.But they had also given Laurent everything. Without Damen, they would not be together. Without the treachery of Kastor, Laurent would already be dead.
They rode ahead in silence for a moment, until Damen spoke again.
“What about your parents?” he asked. “Did they hate each other at first, too?”
Laurent was slightly taken aback by the question. “I… don’t believe I’ve given it much thought. It was an arranged marriage. But they did not hate each other. That is what I remember. Or at least… that is what Auguste remembered. He always said that they adored each other.”
“Love at first sight, then?”
Laurent scoffed. “Love at first sight doesn’t exist. Only my brother believed in it.”
Damen cocked a curious eyebrow.
“Auguste fell for practically every woman he saw”, Laurent explained. “I remember him courting a princess of Patras. He would bring her the cheesiest of gifts. Roses. Diamonds. He even wrote her a poem, once.”
“He did not!”
“I assume it wasn’t very good”, Laurent continued. “She dismissed his attentions soon after. Auguste claimed that it didn’t hurt, but I could see that it did. He got attached.”
Laurent wanted to add -
that was weakness, I would never do it - but it would be a lie. He remembered how it had felt, when Damen and him had been at odds. Like his heart had been ripped from his chest.
There was a hint of sadness behind Damen’s smile. “It’s strange to hear you talk about him like this. So… easily.”
“It was a long time ago”, Laurent said. “There’s no reason to dwell on it.”
“Yes”, Damen agreed. The wounds were almost healed. There was no reason to open them anymore.
*
Halfway through Sicyon Damen brought it up again.
“Did you know that most weddings in Akielos happen during winter?”
Laurent raised his brows. This time they had stopped for a rest, at a quaint homestead with some of the best garlic paste Laurent had ever tasted. There had been a wedding ceremony in the neighboring monastery that very morning - the paved ground was still littered with flower petals.
“It’s not winter now”, Laurent said.
“Not all stick to the tradition”, Damen explained. “The northern provinces are much more liberal about it. Half of the people here don’t even believe in the gods.”
“Do you?”
“Let’s just say my father would disown me if I ever dared to get married outside of the holy months”, Damen said. His tone was so serious Laurent couldn’t tell if he was joking or not. “He was a traditional man. The old ways were important to him.”
“You make it sound like there is more to it.”
“There is–more.”
“Like what?”
“Our wedding celebrations last three days”, Damen explained. “On the first day, both partners get ready. They spend the time apart, performing the rituals.”
“The rituals.”
“To the gods.”
Of course. “They make offerings, depending on how they wish their marriage to be blessed. Offerings of the body, mostly. Menstrual blood, for luck in childbirth. Semen, for virility. A lock of the hair, for a long marriage.”
Laurent stared at Damen in horror. The garlic paste had suddenly lost its allure.
“What?” Damen asked. “What did I say?”
“That’s barbaric. You really offer your semen to the gods?”
Damen scoffed. “You really consummate your marriage in front of the council?”
Laurent pressed his lips together. “Point taken. But if we ever got married, no gods on this earth would be able to convince me to part of my bodily fluids for them.”
“Don’t worry”, Damen patted him on the shoulder. “You’re quite virile enough.”
That pat on the shoulder was accompanied by a pat on another, far more private region. Laurent blushed violently.
From the way Damen smiled, Laurent judged this was exactly what he had wanted.
“The remaining ceremonies are far less complicated”, Damen continued. “On the wedding day, both partners begin the day with a long bath. The official ceremony then follows, along with the festivities, which last late into the night. This is when the marriage is consummated.”
“Behind closed doors, I assume?”
“Like any civilized people would”, Damen said, deadpan. “The third day is reserved for gifts. And recovery, from the night before.”
Laurent nodded. “You make it sound so complicated. For us, it’s just…” Laurent switched to Veretian, into a familiar proverb.
“Get wed, get bed.”“While the council is watching”, Damen wiggled his brows.
Laurent wanted to punch him. “Will you stop talking about it!”
*
Damen, obviously, did not follow his advice. They were back at Marlas when the gifts began.
“Your highness”, a servant spoke one day, catching Laurent in the midst of his afternoon reading. “I’ve something for you.”
“Oh?” Laurent put his book down, gesturing the servant forward. They were carrying a satchel which clinked as the servant set it down on the table.
“A gift”, the servant explained. “From an anonymous source.”
Laurent opened the satchel. Inside was a leather bridle. Laurent observed it for a moment, puzzled. And then he remembered.
The bridle of his horse had worn down during the long ride from Ios. The moment they had reached the outskirts of Marlas it had almost been at its breaking point. Laurent had lamented upon it one evening in the confidences of his tent. Only one person was allowed in besides himself.
But Laurent set aside the thought. Surely the quartermaster would have noticed it, the moment their horses were brought in. Or the stablehand - that man was obsessed with keeping his horses in the best possible care.
However, the gifts did not stop there.
A few days later, another package came in. This time, it was a full jar of orange jam. Although Laurent had enjoyed his fair share of the stuff already during his life in Vere, the taste there had always struck him as somewhat bitter. It was only after he tasted the sweet oranges of Ios that his life was truly transformed, even so that he had wept the first time he tasted them properly on his toast.
Damen had laughed at him. He said: here at Akielos we eat oranges for every meal. Look, here’s an orange tree. I’ll make some juice for you right away!
He had picked up a pair of fruit and squeezed, with those ridiculous, huge muscles of his. Laurent had felt his mouth go dry.
Later that night, he had demanded those hands around his own throat. He wept then, too. Damen’s lips had tasted like sun-ripened fruit.
But even then Laurent considered it a simple coincidence. He must have mentioned the jam to one of his attendants some morning, or they had seen how he frowned at the taste of the Veretian flavor. It could not be
him.That was before the last gift came in.
*
“What is this?”
Laurent flung the chess pieces at Damen’s feet. The king caught the king of Akielos on his practice blade, wood clinking against wood.
“You’re not meant to throw them”, Damen said, wiping the sweat off his brow. Even like this, sweaty and hair tousled after rigorous practice in the training ring, he looked gorgeous. It was infuriating. “I thought you played chess.”
“Emphasis on
played”, Laurent hissed. He had already grabbed a matching practice blade, swinging it at Damen. “I did not ask for this.”
Damen parried the blow as lightly as swatting a fly. “It was a gift.”
“So it was you after all.”
A curious smile crept upon Damen’s features. He lifted his sword. “Who else did you think it could be?”
Laurent counted his breaths. He swung higher, this time. Where it would knock some sense into this man. “Someone with less wits in their brain.”
Parry. “I thought that you would like them.” Damen sounded offended. Actually offended. The gall. He was not the victim here.
Laurent stepped back, calculating his next move.
“Well I didn’t”, he said. It was a half-truth. He
did enjoy the gifts. He just didn’t enjoy what they represented. “You–shouldn’t do this to me.”
“Do what?”
Laurent grit his teeth. The practice blade felt heavy in his hands. “Give me affections I cannot return.”
“You’ll need to be more precise with your words”, Damen said. Their blades met again, the impact sending shudders down Laurent’s spine.
“I won’t get you flowers, if that’s what you want.” They drew apart. Then collided once more. Two heavenly bodies caught in endless motion. “We’re not doing this.”
“Doing what?”
It took Laurent less physical strength to lift his blade than to push out the word. “Courting.”
Damen tiptoed around his blade, effortless as dancing. That was what he did, even in these days of peace. He made death look like an art.
“Is that not what we have been doing all this time?”
Damen smiled. His eyes were like the sun. He was so beautiful that it hurt.
*
“We’re not doing this”, Laurent whispered against Damen’s bare neck, in the darkness of their bedroom, under cover of the moon. Damen’s skin was warm like the marble cliffs of Ios on a sunny day. Laurent missed it, those carefree days back at the Summer Palace.
“Courting, you mean”, Damen said. The word rolled so easily off his tongue. Like it carried no weight whatsoever. “Why not?”
“You know why.”
Damen’s laugh made his shoulders shake. “I can’t read minds. Spell it out for me, love.”
“Because of what it entails.” Laurent considered his words again, rounded them on his tongue. “Because of where it leads.”
“Marriage.” Damen saw Laurent’s reaction at the words. “Why do you fear it so much?”
“I don’t fear it”, Laurent said. “I just don’t need it. This, what we have now… it’s enough.”
“Things wouldn’t have to change. We’d still be as we were. In fact, we’d be more. They would have no reason to tear us apart again.”
“A piece of paper won’t change that.”
“Marriage is more than a piece of paper”, Damen said. He sounded almost aghast. “Do you know how many offers of marriage I’ve received in the past few months? Even as the world knows about our partnership, it’s still not recognized by law. If either of us were to perish–we couldn’t be put to rest side by side. History would forget us.”
But I don’t care about history, Laurent almost said.
I care about the future. All of this, we can change that.“It would mean something to me”, Damen continued.
“I know.” Laurent felt Damen’s hands around him, firm and true. Every love story he had known had ended in disaster. This was too good to be true. It felt bound to break, in the end. “It’s just… so solemn.
‘Til death do us part.”And Damen said: “There are far worse oaths to swear.”
*
The following day Laurent collected the chess pieces from the practice ring. He might have not played anymore, but it was a beautiful set, and using it as kindling would have been an insult to the world’s chess community. He set everything meticulously in place, admiring the detail carved onto each piece. The individual hairs on the knight’s back. The intricate spires on the rook’s top. The jewels on the queen’s neck. The crown on the king’s head.
There were two kings, Laurent noted, when the two sets were put together. The ivory white and the walnut brown. The same shade as Damen’s skin in the sun.
Two kings. In all of their history, it had never been like that. The past kings of Akielos had their slave-boys, the kings of Vere their male pets. But every pair that came before had been a king and a queen. That was, naturally, how they too had come to be.
Perhaps all of this would have been easier if Laurent had been born a princess. Damen preferred women, after all. Laurent remembered the look in Damen’s eyes when he had thought he had a son. Laurent would never be able to give him that.
My line ends with me.The queens stood solemnly next to their kings, beautiful and cold. That was how Laurent had thought that this would be. He could never take a princess by his side, but he would not not deny Damen from what was rightfully his. All kings needed an heir, after all.
Laurent found his fingers easing back to the old motions, buried deep within his mind. The pieces moved, the board evolved. The queens circled the king on both sides.
Checkmate.*
“I see you’re playing again”, Damen said.
Laurent felt a flush creep upon his cheeks. It had already been a week, and he had been secretive about it. He had not thought that Damen had noticed.
“The pieces are in a different position than they were this morning”, Damen clarified. “Unless you’re just using them to map battle positions.”
Laurent almost felt tempted to claim so. He had not expected to share this part of him so soon, a part that belonged to Auguste alone. Every game, every new move that he uncovered, reawakened an ancient pain. His body was sore with bruises that only he could see.
“Yes”, Laurent said, finally. “I tried a few times.”
“Could I try, too? It can’t be too different from pebbles. I still remember the basics of it.”
Laurent lifted his hands up. “As long as you won’t fling the board at me.”
“I won’t.” Damen grinned wolfishly. They took seats by the table, and Laurent laid out the board as he explained the basics. Damen nodded his understanding, gesturing for Laurent to begin.
Laurent made the first move. Damen made a second. “Like this?”
“That’s allowed”, Laurent said, although the move was an unconventional one. It would only lead to a fast defeat.
Laurent placed his next pawn. Damen followed. “What about now?”
“You’re paving the way to my victory.” Laurent found a smile creeping upon his face. It felt good to defeat Damen in something even once.
A few more moves followed. Laurent played confidently: this was no battle, it was a slaughter. Regardless, Damen did not appear defeated. In fact, the more Laurent inched him into the corner, the more smug his expression became.
“You’re taking your loss remarkably well”, Laurent commented.
“What loss?” Damen asked. He suddenly grabbed hold of Laurent’s king, placing it next to his own. “I’ve already won!”
The two kings stood next to each other in an impossible configuration.
“Pebbles!” Damen shouted, flinging his hands up in victory.
“That’s no move at all”, Laurent scoffed. “You can’t beat the game with two kings.”
“Why not? That doesn’t make any sense.”
“The king needs a queen. Or a knight, or–” Laurent furrowed his brows. “Are we even playing the same game?”
“If those are the rules of your game, perhaps they should be changed”, Damen said. He rose from his chair with a shrug. “The union of two kings is the strongest move of all.”
Laurent thought about Damen’s words, after that. He thought about them for a long time.
*
The battlements of Marlas were not a particularly romantic place - in fact, they were one of the bleakest places in the palace. This was where they would overlook the battlefield, if the events of the past ever replayed. This stone was what would remain, long after they were gone.
Laurent did not know why he chose them as the site to have this talk. Perhaps it was to anchor the past and future. Perhaps it was to both hurt and heal.
“I’ve thought about your words”, Laurent said to Damen. “And I’m willing to consider them. But you must hear me out first.”
Damen nodded, solemn as stone. “I hear you.”
“Good”, Laurent said. “I… don’t fear marriage. If I wanted to do it with anyone, it was with you. But I do not wish to cage you. I know your… appetites. And you know my issues. There will come a time when our needs do not match.”
“Laurent”, Damen said, his expression grave. “I have eyes for no-one but you. In the past, perhaps, but no longer. It’s all you.”
“You feel like that now, but people change. I don’t have your Akielon complexion. I’ll be wrinkly and veiny before you know it.”
Damen scoffed. “Your complexion is perfect. Besides, you’re hardly more than twenty. You shouldn’t be thinking about this.”
“I am. If we wish to do this, you must understand what it entails. You won’t just have me for a moment. You’ll have me
forever.”“That’s exactly why I want to do it.”
“And what I want is for you to know… if you ever grow tired of me - or if you ever have eyes for someone else… I do not wish to stop you. We could come to an agreement of sorts. Hopefully one that pleases us all.”
Damen nodded. “I understand. Marriage is not a prison - it’s a partnership.”
“Exactly”, Laurent said. “I couldn’t have said it any better.”
He felt better now, too. The words had been a weight on his chest, which had now been lifted. He did not understand why he had let them weigh him down for so long. It felt good, letting go.
“Laurent…” Damen took his hand.
Really took it, cradling it between his palms like a treasure. Like that hand was the most precious thing in the whole world. “I love you. I see your worries. We can’t predict the future. But now… I wish to do this. And if things will fall apart later, I promise you, I will do my best at keeping them together. I will fight for this love, until my dying breath.”
Laurent shuddered. “Don’t–make promises that you cannot keep.”
“Then I promise to myself”, Damen said. “I will promise to love and cherish you, even through hardship, even through pain. Knowing this, King Laurent of Vere, will you marry me?”
Laurent swallowed back his tears. He was far past eloquence. He was far past any words, in fact. He thought of the two kings, conquering the board together.
Change the game. He felt a burn in his heart, a love that would reshape history.
“Fuck you, Damianos”, he said. “You needed only ask.”
