Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The castle sleeps. Castle? Ruins? Whichever. Frey stands at the top of it, the moon shining down, the world bathed in a soft blue glow. He holds out his hand, examining the Dawn Rune. Ever since the battle and the draining of the lake, it’s grown.

Or maybe it’s him who has grown, and the Rune merely reflects that. He laughs. Right.

He walks the darkened bridges and passageways alone. At the docks he can hear Lun and Subala failing entirely at having quiet sex. A part of him wants to poke his head in and ask to join. Lun’s boyfriend certainly wasn’t shy when he spoke with Frey, and the prospect was…definitely tempting. He’s barely had time to unwind since the battle, and blowing off some steam…

He shakes his head and turns away. Not tonight. He still hasn’t made up his mind who he’s bringing to Lelcar. Kyle will be there, to show him around. Lyon of course.

A great shadow passes through the water of the lake, and Frey holds his breath, watching it speed away into the dark. There’s still so much of the world he hasn’t seen. The more he does, the further he goes, the more he realizes he enjoys finding all the things he’s missed. The people, the places, the secrets.

Further ahead on the docks he sees the shadow of a person but it doesn’t…look right. As he approaches, hand on his tri-nunchaku, he realizes why. He tilts his head so that he’s almost looking upside down, and sees one of the newer members of the army standing on his hands at the edge of the dock.

“Richard, is that you?” Frey asks.

“Oh, Prince,” Richard says in the same pleasant tone as always. “Sorry if this is a bother, but Mueller said that if I couldn’t keep my hands to myself, I needed more training.”

Frey bites his bottom lip to keep from laughing. The man is devoted, he has to admit. Almost regrettably so, Frey thinks, noting the hard muscles showing from where his shirt falls down past his stomach. Maybe…

“I think you’re probably good for the night.”

“But Mueller—”

“I think Mueller didn’t intend for you to be doing this all night.” And okay, that’s questionable. Probably Mueller does expect Richard to be out there all night. But he probably doesn’t really care either way, and is almost undoubtedly asleep.

“Oh.”

With a slight grunt, Richard rolls up to a stand, stopping directly in front of Frey.

“Thank you, then.”

Frey nods.

“And, if you’re still having trouble…keeping your hands to yourself, I might have a different kind of training you could try.”

Richard’s eyes widen a bit, but he doesn’t back away, doesn’t turn away. Instead, Frey can make out an edge in the moonlight that makes him think maybe he’s misjudged the relationship he has with Mueller. After all, Mueller and Wilhelm were obvious a thing. Maybe what Richard has with them is messier than neat lines and descriptions. Which means there might be room for…

“Mueller does say I should take every opportunity to train my skills…and my body.”

Frey closes the distance between them, one hand wrapping around Richard’s back, the other around the back of his neck, and pulls him into a kiss. Not like he’s ever bothered with subtlety. Richard doesn’t hold back, returns the kiss, leans into Frey’s embrace. He’s sweaty from his ordeal and Frey relishes the salt on his lips, the damp muss of his hair. He lets his one hand slip lower even as the other holds Richard in the kiss, their tongues dueling. Richard’s ass is as firm as the rest of him, and Frey wan—

A splash in the water nearby draws them both short and they pause, lips still pressed, eyes straining to see what might be—

“Please, don’t stop on my account,” Genoh says. The giant turtle’s head is only feet from them, ancient face smirking. “Just pretend I’m a rock. Yes…”

Frey takes a deep breath. Fucking old ass pervy turtle. He grabs Richard’s hand and pull him into a run back to the castle. A bedroom might not be as…fun as the docks, but it lacked an audience, and that, at the moment, is something.

Chapter Text

Lelcar looks lovely from the water. Once on the street, though, the effect is lost. There’s an edge to it, a tension in the air that Frey can feel the second he’s off the boat. Lyon stalks ahead, an aggressive frown to go with Kyle’s lazy smile. Frey tries to shrug it off and concentrate on Richard at his side, or the way the new outfit fits. To be perfectly honest, he’s not a huge fan. It’s baggy again, like his royal garb, and while he’s okay with the colors, it just doesn’t feel as—

“Rebel scum!” a voice cries, and there’s a scream, a flame that streaks through the air.

Frey’s attention crashes back to the city, to the small group that’s charging them. Or…charging the area. He’s almost relieved to see that the people aren’t targeting the group, but rather seem to be shooting fire at the surrounding structures. It doesn’t stop Lyon and Kyle from pushing forward.

Frey hesitates, weighing the desire to fight with them and the knowledge that he’s supposed to be keeping a low profile. He doesn’t want to think about the series of lectures Lucretia had given him to drive home the point. He’s stopped from having to decide, though, by a hand on his shoulder.

“A waste,” Sialeeds says, eyeing the scene with obvious distaste. “At this rate we won’t have much of a nation left to save.”

Frey purses his lips. Ever since Rainwall…ever since Lucretia joined with them, she’s been more distant than normal. He searches her face as she watches Lyon and Kyle make short work of the gang. She looks so…sad.

“We’ve already started the healing in Lordlake,” Frey says. “We don’t break everything?”

His aunt’s eyes narrow. “No,” she says. “Just enough. Just whatever Lucretia thinks is enough.”

Frey opens his mouth to say something but can’t find the words. Instead, a new voice pipes up from behind them.

“No price is too great to wipe THE PESTILENCE OF THOSE THEIVING GODWIN BASTARDS FROM THE FACE OF FALENA! FUSE THEIR TOE NAILS WITH CONCENTRATED FIRE FOR THEIR CRIMES!”

Frey winces at the verbal assault.

“On second thought, Egbert, maybe you should wait on the ship,” Frey says, forcing a smile. “Uh…you might be recognized, after all, being a great noble and all.”

Egbert nods sagely. “Quite right, quite right.”

And then Kyle is there with a pudgy man dressed in green. Distracted, Frey hadn’t noticed that the fight is over, the gang fled or sprawled unconscious on the ground.

“Prince, this is Wasil, a friend,” Kyle says. It’s still strange seeing him out of his Queen’s Knight uniform, dressed as some sort of…mercenary? The yellow tunic and black pants were still rather fetching, though. Rugged. For some reason Frey thought of a bear, though that didn’t make sense. A blond bear?

“Prince, my warmest welcome to Lelcar,” Wasil says. “Though I’m afraid Orok’s goons already gave a welcome of their own. That’s part of why I asked you here.”

“Yeah, I was afraid a moment that we’d dressed up for nothing,” Frey says.

Wasil shakes his head. “They’ve been doing that to just about everyone. The only people who haven’t been molested have been Godwin soldiers.”

“They’re trying to prevent anyone from entering the city?” Sialeeds asks. “That’s…strange.”

Frey shrugs.

“Well, I’m sure it’s just an excuse to harass anyone they suspect might have sympathies for the Prince. The city is quite divided about it. I can fill you in on all the details, if you wouldn’t mind coming back to my home. I’m afraid being in the open like this, someone might see…”

Frey nods and motions. The five of them make their way to the central island.

Chapter Text

In the back of his head, Frey knows that a battle is coming. The Godwins aren’t going to just leave Lelcar, even if the entire city asks them nice, and the chances of that are…slim. Wasil takes them to see Volga, a man Kyle apparently knows quite well (though he seems a bit old for—well, anyway). But Frey can feel it as he walks through the streets. Battle is coming. He’s not sure whether he should be excited or terrified.

He takes Richard’s arm as they walk, trying to distract himself with the solid weight of his firm body. Despite being about the same size, Richard has a solidity that Frey admires. Or desires. Or both. He’s all muscle, and despite his smile Frey knows there’s no hesitation in him, either. Not when they’re in bed, their hands and mouths finding news ways to feel good. And not in the street, when a group of thugs appear out of the shadows, agents of Orok. That smile doesn’t slip as Richard unsheathes his sword, and ten seconds later two men are dead, the rest running.

Volga’s eyes bulge.

“You fucks really mean business,” he says.

Frey laughs, pats Richard’s shoulder.

“The fate of the nation is at stake,” Frey says.

Sialeeds huffs, but a quick glare from Kyle seems to calm her. Volga shrugs.

“I don’t give a flying donkey’s taint about the nation. Lelcar’s my home, and if you can’t protect us from the Godwins then what fucking good are you?”

“We’ve been handling the Godwins,” Frey says.

“You’ve been riling them up, you mean,” comes a voice from the nearby alleyway, and everyone turns to see Orok appear. He’s pretty, is the problem. And it’s obvious right away that he’s had something with Wasil and Volga both, because they squirm a bit seeing him. Sun blast it, why couldn’t people just settle things with a good fuck?

“You’ve got a lot of nerve showing your face here,” Volga says, and Wasil puts a hand on his should, restraining him. When that doesn’t work, Kyle joins in, and together they manage to hold him back.

Richard takes a half-step forward, and Orok pales a bit at that—he must have been watching the exchange earlier.

“I’m just here to warn you. Out of respect for our…history.”

Frey rolls his eyes. They really just need to fuck this out.

“Like that little ‘warning’ just now?” Volga asks.

“If I don’t take drastic measures to—” He bites back whatever else he was going to say and takes a breath. “Just trust me. We need to go along with the Godwins. There’s no way this puffed up prince is going to be able to protect us from what’s coming.”

Frey narrows his eyes.

“We might not have the largest army,” he says, “but we are completely capable of taking on the Godwins on both land and sea.”

At least, Lucretia had assured him they were, and that had to count for something. Again Sialeeds huffs, and this time he turns to her, motions her to say whatever it is she’s holding back.

“What are we even doing here?” she asks. “The moment that we stand up to the Godwins, people are going to get hurt. Falenans are going to die. Which will only make things worse for us in the long run, with Armes and every other hungry power looking at us like we’re suddenly on the menu.”

Orok nods vigorously. “Exactly! The more we resist, the worse it’s going to be. The loss of life—”

“The Godwins are holding the princess against her will,” Kyle says, voicing what Frey still can’t quite bring himself to say. “They killed the Queen and Sir Ferid. Lives have already been lost.”

Sialeeds shakes her head. “That’s the way it always is. An aristocrat dies, as the whole nation goes to war? The dead are beyond our help now. The living, on the other hand…”

“I won’t let my city suffocate under Godwin rule,” Volga says. “If the Prince is able to help to that end, then my loyalty will be to him.”

“Mine, as well,” Wasil says.

Orok sneers. “You’re a pair of fools, then.”

He turns and stalks back into the alley. Frey turns to look at his aunt, who is glaring at all of them. He’s not sure where this anger comes from.

“Auntie…”

“No,” she says. “You weren’t born, but the killing of royals is no new thing. I’ve lost—” Her face twists. “I’ve lost my share of family. But as much as I’ve lost, the nation has lost more. Assassinations are terrible, but they pale before the consequences of war. The thousands dead.”

Frey swallows, tries to center himself. This is all still new to him. He wants to remember things that Lucretia has said. Things that make sense. But all he has are his own chaotic thoughts.

“But we’ll win,” is all he can think to say.

And it’s like the wind goes out of her. She turns away, back toward the central island.

“We’ve already lost.”

Chapter Text

He is lost in Richard’s body, taking his turn as top as he trails fingers across Richard’s shoulders, down his back. Luckily, Wasil’s house is large and they each get their own room. Or they share, as the case may be. Richard arches his back like a cat, on knees and hands, and Frey groans as Richard’s ass tightens around his cock.

He increases his speed, the force of his thrusts. Richard groans. From outside a whiff of smoke wafts in the open window. A reminder of all the things Frey doesn’t want to think about right now. He reaches forward, wraps his hands around Richard’s throat. Doesn’t squeeze, doesn’t pull, just puts them there. Richard leans into them, pushing for pressure. He likes it rough, likes to be tied, likes so many things that Frey does that it’s fairly easy to figure out what to do.

Frey grabs Richard’s biceps and pulls sharply, falls forward as Richard loses the leverage. In seconds he has Richard by the wrists, pulled back so that his chest is hovering inches from the bed, his whole body rocking as Frey pulls and pounds. He wants to fuck away the world outside, the lingering words of Sialeeds that he can’t quite forget. He wants to get lost in the pleasure that spreads from his cock and up into his stomach, a chilling fire.

His hands are tingling. Beneath him, Richard cries out, and they come together, their bodies two parts of a weapon unsheathed, flashing, joyous.

“You’re the worst brother in the world!” Lym screams, throwing a shoe at him.

Frey laughs and dances out of the way of it. He should feel worse. Bad at all, even. Her hair is a ruin, a mess of the sticky candy that inventor had offered them. He hated the feel of it, of this ‘bubble gum,’ and when Lym started showing off with those bubbles, well..

“Queens should be moderate and benevolent,” Frey says as he avoids the other shoe.

“Queens should have such awful, terrible…sluts for brothers!”

Frey stops, a cold rush spreading through his body. Lym grins, hands on hips, triumphant.

“Princess, you really shouldn’t say things like that,” Miakis says.

Frey catches her eyes, sees the crimson in her cheeks. He wonders if she’s where Lym got that particular insult, or if it’s someone else. Or everyone. He looks down, then around. Ferid and Arshtat are still talking with the inventor. Lyon is looking at the ground.

Frey feels tears prick the corners of his eyes. Without a word, he turns and runs.

More light.

“Father, please!”

Richard’s cries are ignored and he trips backwards, falls to the floor, barely avoiding the swish of the sword.

“No son of mine is going to be a dock whore,” his father rages.

Had his mother seen him sneaking out? Had she told him? Or had he heard it elsewhere? From another member of the Lindwurm Mercenaries? It was wrong, in any event. He had never sold himself. Never.

“I never—”

“Don’t you dare lie to me!”

He towers over Richard, who scoots back only to find a wall preventing him from backing up further. Trapped. He swallows, looks at the looming shadow of the blade.

The door shatters inward, and his father turns away, moving the blade to a defensive posture. Like it can do anything against the mountain who walks through the door. Richard’s eyes widen, and despite everything, desire pulses in him. Mueller stops just inside the door, taking in the scene, briefly meeting Richard’s shaking gaze before settling on his father.

“M-Mueller? What are you doing here? This is none of your business!”

Mueller tilts his head, looks again at Richard. Then he raises his hand and slowly undoes the leather collar he wears. Under is a scar, angry red despite looking old.

“My father gave me this,” he says, every syllable sharp and low. He drops the collar to the floor and pulls the enormous iron club from his back.

“This just became my business,” he says. Then, to Richard. “You can close your eyes for this.”

Frey collapses to the bed on top of Richard. Both are panting hard, and with a grunt Frey manages to roll onto his back. The chill tingle of the rune is still running through his body. He’s crying, and it takes a moment to realize that Richard is, too. It’s the first time he’s seen just pain on his face, cracking the smiling mask he normally wears.

Frey reaches over, pulls him into an embrace. He can’t say anything comforting, can’t make any promises but with the presence of his body against Richard’s. And maybe it’s enough. At least, Richard doesn't pull away, and eventually, in the space between night and day, they both fall asleep.

Chapter Text

Kyle charges, is knocked back by the special bodyguard Orok hired. Despite looking a mess, she’s fast, and Kyle underestimated her. Frey sweeps around one side of Kyle, Richard the other. And it’s the woman’s turn to underestimate. She picks Frey out as the first target, probably because of the reach of his tri-nunchaku, and Richard gives her no time to regret it. Three strikes and she’s on the floor, dazed. Not dead, Frey realizes, almost surprised, but he doesn’t question it. He chases up the stairs. Orok is shouting orders, obviously thought he had more time than he does. Frey tackles him to the ground, holds his weapon over the other man’s throat.

Wasil and Volga burst in from the street followed by a posse of their own.

“It’s over, Orok,” Wasil says. “Yield.”

“You don’t understand!” Orok cries. His long hair falls over his face, damp with sweat. “If we don’t give the Godwins what they want, it won’t go well for us.”

“Won’t go good for you, don’t you mean, you little shit?” Volga asks.

“No! You don’t understand. They’re not going to risk letting Lelcar join the Prince. They’ll crush us. Already! They told me if I didn’t provide two hundred new recruits every week, they’d attack. Raise Lelcar. Claim that we were harboring the Prince.”

Frey frowned. He did sound genuinely distressed. And they had just freed probably his entire stock of fresh recruits.

“How soon were you supposed to deliver?” he asks. Maybe they could…could slip in some of their troops. Get some spies on the inside of the Godwin operation.

“Tonight! I’m already late!”

Well shit, there went that plan.

“Tonight?”

“They said their fleet and army were already on the way ‘for our protection.’ If they don’t get what they want, they’ll come in force. We’re done. There’s no way you can protect us. You’d need to have been sailing for days.”

Frey looks back, sees Sialeeds standing there, face twisted in a sneer.

“We have to evacuate who we can,” Frey says.

“Fuck that up its ruddy ass,” Volga says. “This is our home. Like the moon’s frigid balls are we going to just pack and go. We’ll fight, even if it’s hopeless. Down to the last.”

Orok’s eyes shine a bit as he looks up at Volga.

“T-then, let me fight with you. Let me make up for my stupidity, my thought I could do this on my own.”

Volga looks about ready to say no, but Wasil steps forward, captures his hand and tugs him forward toward Orok. Frey let’s the man up, and he stands, faces Volga and Wasil.

“We will fight together,” Wasil says, grabbing one of Orork’s hands as well, so that he’s the link that binds them all together. Frey can practically feel the sexual tension. He knew they just needed to make up.

“That’s all well and good,” Sialeeds says. “Except that it means thousands are going to die. The Godwins are not going to let you off easy. Especially if they find you have been harboring the Prince.”

Orok’s eyes widen. “She’s right. You all need to leave. We’ll do what we can here.”

Frey plants himself. “No.”

Sialeeds steps beside him. “Frey, we have to. We’ve done enough damage here.”

He shoots her a glare. “It would have been better if we did nothing?”

She meets every ounce of intensity in his gaze and raises him more of her own. “Sometimes that’s the only way. You have to stop acting like such a spoiled brat and start thinking like a ruler. We have to go. Lelcar is lost. We—”

A figure bursts through the open doorway from the street. One of Orok’s minions.

“Boss, there’s a friggin’ fleet arriving.”

“The Godwins? Already?” Orok looks about the room, despair a hood he’s pulled over his face.

“Not quite,” a new voice says, and through the door strides Lelei.

“Sorry we’re late,” she says, “but Lucretia deployed us almost immediately after you left. She herself had other matters to attend to, but I’ll do my best to make her proud.”

“W-what?” is all Frey can manage.

Lelei smiles. “Lucretia suspected that the Godwins would be moving against Lelcar sooner than later. She didn’t know when, but thought it best if we had a presence before they arrived. I trust you’ve gained local support.”

“I…” Frey looks around at Wasil, Volga, and Orok. Holding hands. “I suppose I have.”

“Now we’ve got a frog’s chance in a Zexen rutting soup pot!” Volga says, and around him people start excitedly murmuring. It sounds…it sounds like hope.

Everyone is smiling. Everyone but Sialeeds. There’s something else on her face. A shadow that burns as she looks Frey in the eye, then turns and stomps back down into the basement. Frey wants to follow, but before he can Kyle is pulling him forward, and Lelei is saying something about a strategy meeting, and it’s already too late to go back.

Chapter Text

Fire smolders on the Western Islet. Frey kicks a bit of loose mortar and sends it hissing into the water. The battle is over. The war…well, certainly not. Around him the work continues. Not everyone is accounted for, but some…might have jumped into the water to avoid the flames. Wasil says they’ll know more in a few days, after the rubble has been sifted.

It could have been worse. He tells himself, let’s Lelei tell him that, even though he can see shame and anger in her eyes as well. Guilt.

He wishes Richard were still around, but he disappeared back into the Lindwurm mercs before the battle started. Did a wonderful job, Frey’s sure. Everyone did. Even he did, standing in front of everyone, raising his hand, letting his rune lash out, burn and sooth in turn. But none of it undoes what happened here. The Godwins burning the islet to cover their escape.

“I’d say I bet Lucretia didn’t think of this,” comes a voice from a ruined building nearby, and Frey pauses long enough to see Sialeeds stumble out, holding a bottle of something. “But the worse thing is that I bet she did.”

Frey doesn’t answer, but he wonders. Which, really, would be worse?

“Auntie,” he begins, then jumps as the bottle she was holding shatters at his feet.

“Sialeeds,” she says, anger thick in her voice. “You’re a man now. The leader of a resistance. You can call me Sialeeds.”

His eyes narrow. “Don’t like being reminded we’re related?” he asks.

She rolls her eyes. “If you mother could see you now.”

“My mother is dead. And she never really liked me all that much, anyway. I’m sure she would find a lot to fault.”

Sialeeds laughs. “Yes, I’m sure she would. She always was a bitch like that.”

Frey feels tears threatening again, but he doesn’t back down.

“As opposed to a bitch like you?”

Sialeed’s laugh takes an edge, then seems to lose it.

“That’s…that’s actually pretty good. I forget sometimes you’re more than a pair of legs that spread.”

“I’m a switch, Sialeeds. I do more than spread.”

She looks at him, her expression sobering some. “You could be more than a pawn in all this. More than a pawn of her.”

“She’s the best one to save Falena.”

Sialeeds spits. “She’s not saving Falena. No, she has no interest in that. What’s she’s doing is deeper and more insidious than that. She’s here to reform Falena.”

Frey squints. “I don’t understand how that’s a bad thing.”

“She…” Sialeeds stops, turns her back to the wreckage of Lelcar. She stares out across the waters of the river.

“Do you know what I lost, what Arshtat lost, to try and reform Falena? And there she was, in prison, a plan tucked away into her horrible brain. I was there, even then. She knew this would happen. Or something very much like it. And she let it happen. All of this. Even before, when she worked for the Godwins. Even then I’m sure she was playing this game. She’s a monster, Frey. Nephew. She’s a monster. She will sacrifice whatever she needs to.”

Frey takes a deep breath, lets it go. “Maybe we need that. Maybe we need a monster, to beat one.”

Sialeeds sighs. “No, love. No, I don’t think we do.”

And she walks away, back into the rubble, perhaps looking for another bottle of unruined wine. Frey almost wants to join her.