forum Opportunistic Omnivore: Scavenging the Remains of the Divine || OxO || Closed || 18+

Started March 15, 2023 by @ElderGod-kirky group

tune

Oh. Sláine was delighted. Had he been given the time, he was going to get off so that they could start getting dressed and ready to leave. Eurion's statement about them being insufferable just made the prince snicker, unable to defend himself and unwilling to defend the other two. He knew it, just as everyone else did. There was no denying how easy it was to recognize how insufferable the twins could be. Adding Aideen to the mix had only amped up the antics even more, thought Caoimhe tended to be a frequent target of his guard and was more occupied by fending her off than his usual terrorizing.

But then hands on his chest distracted him, and he was flipped with ease. Eurion stared down at him, saying something—but he was smiling. Sláine blinked up at the assassin as he tried to peel his gaze off of the man's lips. His own smile was broken up by him biting the corner of his lip, as if he could somehow suppress it that way. "Oh really?" he challenged, finally able to look up and meet Eurion's eyes. His arms lazily rested above his head, wrists crossed, as he let the assassin keep him trapped beneath him. "What makes you say that? I'm innocent."

Maybe… maybe he could steal this Eurion away for himself. Maybe he could wrangle it into some way that he could have the assassin to himself, and they could go back to this. The comfort. The seeming familiarity between them. The assassin that would curl up into his chest. Maybe he could keep bringing it back, even if he knew it would ultimately kill him to part ways afterwards. Eurion wouldn't want to keep up contact once the whole thing was over, and they didn't need each other anymore. But Sláine was never one to coddle himself, and maybe that was a bad thing, because he set himself up for pain. He'd take it, though, just to steal away moments like this.

Eurion snorted, and he let himself grow the smile as he rolled his eyes at the prince, “Innocent maybe in most things, still guilty of being an ass though.”

How long had it been, if ever, that he had allowed himself to actually smile and laugh with another person? But not smiling in the way that he did when something awful was about to go down due to his actions, or when he planted seeds in the heads of men that came into the taverns he stayed at on the road until they broke out into a fight and he got to watch. No, a genuine smile caused by another person. And a laugh, too, of all things. It surprised the assassin more than anything, he’s forgotten what it had sounded like to his own ears. But here his was, straddling one of the most beloved princes, one of the men he had come to kill and leave his room a mess of blood and limbs to prove to his patrons that the deed had been done. Instead, he had spent half the night in his arms, and now the morning the exact same way.

Baffled was an understatement, but he was far from disliking it, even if when they left this room they’d go back to pretending nothing ever happened. The moment would stick with him despite what he might have told himself in other cases. Even if for the rest of the journey they never spent another moment like this, only speaking of the path ahead, whether or not they did actually attend the festival like they had said, at least for now, Eurion felt like he was normal.

Whether it was a prince now lying underneath him and giving him a look that Eurion did not want to think about right now due to the implications of it all, it was a sliver of what a normal life may have been like had he decided to decline the Gods. But in a way, if he had, he never would have been in this position with Sláine, so he supposed it wasn’t all bad in the end.

"An ass?" Sláine was having far too much fun for it being the morning. The prince arched his body as if meaning to buck the assassin off of him, but didn't, just dramatically huffed and dropped back to the mattress. He couldn't even muster up a false look of offense, his grin bullying itself into place and refusing to budge. "You wound me; I've been nothing but a gentleman."

He liked this. He liked Eurion laughing and smiling as he teased the prince, straddling him as if uncaring of the position they were in. Weren't they supposed to be getting up to start getting ready to leave? He'd forgotten already, and quite frankly didn't care to remember. The last time Sláine had felt this comfortable and happy with a person, it had been ages ago, and it was a fleeting moment of his life. One little thing destroyed it; gone, like dust in the wind. The prince wanted Eurion to stay just a little longer, to be a slightly larger impact in his life, but he knew that was wishful thinking. They had such different lives that it was hard to see them ever overlapping long enough to matter.

But for now, he'd enjoy it. He'd tease and comfort and give the assassin the joy of a festival while he could, and enjoy it to the fullest.

And maybe the looks he was giving made things difficult for them both, but he was a man that tended to want nothing, until something came along. He couldn't help himself. The prince had no idea what exactly he wanted with the assassin, but he did know he liked this, and that's what he wanted to keep. Selfish. He was beyond selfish for it. Eurion was his own person, with his own wants, and didn't have the obligation to cater to Sláine's wants. The prince really had no right to be doing anything that would complicate things or put pressure onto the man. Fuck, had he been doing that all along?

"You didn't actually have a choice, Your Highness," Not entirely wrong. When it had come down to who and where Eurion had had to stay after they had agreed to the little plan he and Aideen had made, Sláine wasn't given many options. They had all known, really, that when it came down to who had to watch the assassin it would have been him, but what they hadn't accounted for was how the two had shifted in dynamic so fast when fear had presented itself to him.

But, the prince had a choice in how he had helped and treated him last night. He had no obligation, no contract that said he had to help. He could have left Eurion in the state he had been in. Sláine chose to give him the tea. He chose to sit by him. He chose to hold him, and the assassin had let him. Eurion had let the prince comfort and hold and touch in places no one had held him or felt his skin since his mother, probably. No one had wrapped him in an embrace for the evening, had been playful and teasing and grinning at him as if they were friends, good friends, or maybe something else.

Yet here they were, with the assassin sitting comfortably on the prince's lap, hands pressed firmly against his chest and they were both looking at each other as if they had been like this for years on end. Gods, Eurion was smiling for the first time in years due to someone else- a real ass smile that had bloomed. It almost looked out of place considering his usual, almost permanent frown, but no, not with Sláine. The moment they separated from the bed it would be strange again, and they would have Aideen and Caoimhe around and even Eurion didn't know what to do from there- what he wanted, or needed, from the prince. How they were going to navigate this new difference between them that had grown in an instant, "Besides, I highly doubt you're such a gentleman, as you claim, you have to prove it before you earn that title." Eurion's voice was silky and soft and far too casual and playful for an assassin, but he didn't care, not anymore, not right now.

The prince had never really liked titles, a big reason why Aideen hardly used them with the twins unless it was to be snarky. But his eyes scrunched up in amusement when Eurion did it. Your Highness. He had called him such the night before, when telling him his name. Maybe it was the fact that the assassin tossed it out there carelessly, heedless of the weight behind such a title. He certainly didn't hold that same respect at the moment, comfortably seated on Sláine's lap and holding him down. And the prince shouldn't have enjoyed it as much as he was.

Among those within the palace, it was no secret that the royal family was rather forgiving with people considered to be "scum" or lower class, undeserving of the time of the royals and high society. One of the many complaints the noble families had about Azriel, how he "allowed" the tomfoolery to persist. But they hadn't touched on assassins, that was for sure. They were old news, just yet another thing to deal with and move on from, but they weren't people that they regularly took to bed. Even Sláine making him the tea, giving him the prince's bed, all the forms of comfort he provided that ultimately led to this moment would be frowned upon. But he didn't care. The prince was someone that believed in the stories of perfect matches. Perfect friends, perfect lovers, perfect family—not necessarily blood related. The kinds of connections that just clicked. Eurion had shown up to kill him, but was now smiling and laughing and calling him an ass. There had to be something to be said of that.

The prince tossed his head back in mock offense, horns digging into his arms and the pillow, and chin jutted defiantly. His ever-lasting grin didn't help him, but he chose to ignore it in favor of his little tantrum. "Is that a challenge? You dare question my title as a gentleman?" he asked, and as his eyes danced with mirth, he did nothing to fight against the hold Eurion had on him. A prince, submitting to an assassin that had him pinned down. Ridiculous, but very real. "I can be good." Can be, keywords. The laughter dancing across his expression said otherwise, even if it brightened the golden freckles sparkled across his skin.

"I do, I do dare." Amusement was written on Eurion's face as clear as day, a very, very rare expression that graced its presence only in the few moments that he found himself in between jobs, and even then, it wasn't because of something like this. The teasing and playfulness he had with the prince and the fact that he was actively engaging and enjoying it was strange, but Eurion liked it more than he should have. It was what kept him sitting in Sláine's lap when they should be getting up and ready, and had him smiling and warming in the cheeks.

Considering the other two were most likely preparing for the day ahead- packing, possibly- and the assassin and the prince were still in bed, teasing one another, Eurion knew that he should get off Sláine. But his better judgement was failing him, as it had continued to do so the last few hours when it came down to it. The prince had him in a way no other person had ever tried or dared in his entire life, and the fact that Eurion was actually enjoying it was a whole different story. So, until Sláine kicked him off or his twin made himself known to them again, it only felt right that he stayed where he was, making himself comfortable on the prince's lap with little intent to move as of yet. Five minutes, surely, they could allow for that.

Eurion couldn't help the way Sláine had a part of him that he had forgotten about rising to the surface. It shouldn't feel right to be in such a way with him, knowing their positions to one another, knowing Eurion was going to try and kill him last night and knowing they were nothing but strangers. It shouldn't, but it did, "You're going to have to prove it otherwise I'll never believe you."

Sláine scoffed, rolling his eyes at Eurion and his words. "After all I've given you? A bed fit for royalty to sleep in, my precious tea, a nice place to sit—I could have you tried for treason for this slander." Gods, Eurion looked stunning with pink-warm cheeks and a smile softening his features. Happy. The assassin looked happy, or at least amused enough to be close to it, and it made Sláine's heart soar. The sight alone had his chest aflutter and conflicting feelings taking up a war, but the most prominent was how infectious and addictive Eurion's joy was. The prince would happily overdose on it if it meant keeping the man that way.

They can wait a little longer. Sláine didn't know when he'd be able to have Eurion all to himself again, and a growing part of him demanded he side of the assassin to himself. Anytime they stopped in inns, he'd selflessly volunteer to share a room with Eurion, and perhaps sneak in some time after dark, when his brother and Aideen settled down to sleep. It wouldn't be the same, he knew, but it was something, and he was eager. Perhaps eager wasn't the right word, though. He didn't want to leave this particular moment, but he was looking forward to whisking the assassin away in secret corners and behind doors. Just for a little, so that he could have something for himself.

His fingers from where he had trapped his hands beneath his own horns, as if showing that he was innocent and behaving. "What would you have me do?" Then the prince decided against behaving and freed his wrists in order to settle his hands on Eurion's knees; as if having the assassin literally in his lap and leaning on his chest wasn't contact enough. "If I'm not gentlemanly enough for you, what shall I do to prove myself? Your wish is my command."

“You should have had me tried for trying to kill you, but slander is where you draw the line?” Eurion laughed, the sound ringing through the chambers as his face crinkled with the motion. Totally and utterly insane this whole situation was. Sláine was totally fine with the idea that Eurion had tired to come and kill him and hadn’t mentioned anything about that, but no, it was treason for slandering the prince.

When his hands settled on his knees, the warmth that had bloomed in his cheek darkened, although he ignored it out of fear it was only going to get worse from there. It was all new to Eurion, and he wasn’t quite sure where to start with it all. He’d never been afraid of being embarrassed, but when it came to Sláine, something about him and how they were now had him wanting to try, to not make a fool of himself in case whatever this was go south. His heart was leaping and he was blushing and sitting in the prince’s lap with him looking up at him like, well, he liked it. The thought made things all the worse in his cheeks, and he tried his best to shake the thoughts away. But it was difficult when it was hard to look away from Sláine - from his eyes to his lips, how soft his skin looked and felt and how he was now holding his knees.

Eurion moved his hands down Sláine’s chest, settling them gently, if almost slightly unsure, on top of his hands. He didn’t quite know what to say, he wasn’t exactly an expert in how to be a gentleman, in fact, he was pretty much the opposite, really. So, all the could really do was shrug, knowing he didn’t exactly have an answer, “Well… I suppose you’ve been fine enough…”

"No harm done," the prince assured, positively enraptured with a laughing Eurion at this point. "I'm still here, aren't I? Now you're stuck finding out why we should be killed. But spreading lies just ruins my precious reputation, and I've worked so hard to build it into what it is." He bore his canines in a playful little snarl, snapping his teeth for an extra flourish. "Can't have anyone finding out I'm a scoundrel."

All things considered, the prince honestly hadn't meant to fluster Eurion with his move. It had been a natural movement for him, a shift in his position to be more comfortable, and he preferred he be holding something rather than having his limbs lying limp. But it took no time to have red blooming over the assassin's cheeks, darkening by each second the man didn't speak. He'd gone quiet, and Sláine had seen the Fae get lost in his thoughts often enough to recognize the shift. He regretted it immediately, as it took the unfiltered mirth away from his expression with only scraps left behind—still better than before, but not as brilliant as it just was—and he nearly pulled away to keep the touch between them on the assassin's terms. But then he felt the hands on his chest sliding down, and he froze for a moment. Waiting. Giving Eurion the space to do what he wanted without being influenced or pressured. Soon enough, hands settled on top of his. His skin warmed from the touch.

Sláine cocked his head and eyed the blushing assassin, who was now oddly subdued with his response. "Have I done something?" he asked, checking in with Eurion. Lines could be toed to a point. He didn't want to cross any. Eurion might have responded physically, but that didn't mean anything if his mind was elsewhere.

Eurion was quick to shake his head, maybe even too quick, “No! No, no Gods no.” His hands have Sláine’s a squeeze to signal that he was okay, though he didn’t quite relax them, fingers still securely around the others. Just something else to add to the redness. He was enjoying all this, the pink in his cheeks was only due to the fact that it had been a long time since he had been in the position, and with the prince of all people- that definitely didn’t help how he was feeling.

He wasn’t going to admit that, however, maybe not even to himself at this point. All he knew was that this was nice, it was nice and he liked it. He liked how their hands and bodies fit together, how he felt comfortable in the prince’s lap and it felt far too good for what it should be and who they were. It was mainly that thought that had him thinking that maybe they should stop, but his gaze was too fixed to the prince, his body was still and relaxed and comfortable how it was, and he didn’t want to move. Had they not have to get up and ready he would have- probably- asked to stay like this for the whole day and almost beg for Sláine to forget his princely duties for the day if only to fool around and keep living in this bubble for as long as they could and forget the world outside existed.

“Just thinking about how if you’re such a scoundrel then I must be way worse, and you’re stuck with me just as much as I am with you.” But the idea of being stuck together was definitely helping Eurion come to terms with this whole deal.

Sláine didn't want to admit how relieved he was that he hadn't crossed any boundaries unknowingly. Anyone he'd talk to would say he was mad for worrying about the boundaries of an assassin, given their situation. Even Eurion teased him for not caring about being a target of his. But it was hard to think about that when he had the warmth of another hovering over him, or the hands on his squeezing in reassurance, or the weight of someone comfortably on top of him as if made to be there. And that right there set him off on a silent reel of images, many involving Eurion deciding he was the best option for a place to sit while they stopped.

The prince had to look up and away from the assassin. Indecent. He was so incredibly indecent. He flipped his hands, then tangled their fingers together the best they could with their position and squeezed back, but had to remove Eurion from his vision before he got any more ideas. Because, yes, okay, the assassin sent to kill him was gorgeous in the tall, dark, and rough way. But he was also cute, and blushing, and staying planted right where he was despite the deal they had backed him into. Sláine wasn't sorry about the deal, because it meant he had gotten this chance that he wouldn't have had if Eurion ended up on the other end of a sword, but he knew it probably had a sour taste to Eurion. The fact that he was still sitting there said something.

He couldn't resist smiling as Eurion continued, though. "Okay, fine, we're equally stuck with each other." Sláine counted to three, then looked to the assassin again, and his smile twisted upwards even more without his permission. "That just means you've agreed to putting up with this royal ass, as you've so kindly called me, for the foreseeable future. You'll regret it soon enough; I'm a rather pampered and needy prince, of course. I require attention at all times."

“You’re going to have to get used to not having attention all the time, Your Highness, it’s earned, not given where we’re going.” Of course, Eurion knew that if the prince just looked at him the way he had been that he would fold, a thought that, as much as he was opposed to it, especially considering he was an assassin, couldn’t help but liking the more he thought about it.

Because Sláine was bringing out the side of him that no one had seen, and he had coaxed it out of Eurion as if it was easy as clicking his fingers and flipping a switch. Like it wasn’t this big deal that his assassin was far too comfortable on his lap, and was happy there, and definitely did not want to move. How Eurion was thinking about what it would feel like to have Sláine’s hands on his skin in this position, around his waist or hands or legs and it was not helping him try and put distance between them.

After all this was over they would most likely never see each other again, and the thought would have had Eurion frowning had he not been so focused on Sláine and his hands and eyes and how right this all felt. But they were going to have weeks, at minimum, possibly even months considering how shifty the Gods were and the side tracked ideas of festivals, too. Which allowed enough time to figure it out. They had no obligation to think on it now but instead to just enjoy it and tease and play before Caoimhe and Aideen came crashing in and asking what the fuck they’d been doing instead of getting ready.

"Hmm, I have my ways," Sláine hummed, winking up at the assassin with his signature look of mischief. He was sure enough in whatever this was that he'd only have to give Eurion the puppy eyes, or even something as simple as a touch to his hand, to get the assassin's attention. Besides, if his brother and Aideen were annoying enough, Eurion would more than likely default to the prince he was comfortable with, even if it was just a simple act of moving to be side-by-side.

He idly played with Eurion's hands, tracing the lines of his palms and curling their fingers together, as he thought to himself. In the silence, he heard a muffled thump against a wall and his brother's voice shouting, "You dead?" Sláine rolled his eyes and called out his currently still alive state of being, which his twin seemed to take well enough and didn't respond again. Unfortunately, though, it got the prince thinking about their current task and what they needed to do. It pained him to separate from Eurion when it felt like they had no time together. They quite literally had all night, then all morning, to themselves. He shouldn't be so disappointed that their time had to be put on pause. Eurion looked so comfortable perched on the prince's lap that he felt bad even considering making him move. But reality always called them back to face her, and as much as he wanted to deny their responsibilities, they had to come back to the ground.

With a dramatic sigh, Sláine tapped a pinky against Eurion's thigh without breaking his hold on the man's hands. "I think that's our cue," he said, though it was more of a whine than anything. His hands snaked further around Eurion's to hold his wrists. "Got at least a day's travel ahead of us. Hopefully we find an inn along the way." His eyes were mournful as they looked up at Eurion, but the grip he had on him was resistant. The prince didn't want to, and this was as close to a tantrum as Eurion had gotten to witness.

Eurion huffed a little, though he supposed that it was always going to come back. They had had their time, and it had been lovely, and by the grip Sláine had on him, he could tell that he was just as resistant as he was. But, they had a job to do, as always, and all good things had to come to an end eventually. At least this time Eurion didn’t have to disappear back into the shadows, he could stay with the prince, even if they couldn’t hold and touch they way they had been doing now, it was better than nothing, he supposed.

“They’ll be an inn at the end of the day, you don’t have to worry about that, Sláine.” The prince’s name rolled off his tongue before he could even think about it or use his proper title. But just as when the prince said his name it sounded familiar and right, so did his. His words were a promise more than anything else. They would find an inn even if they had to walk an extra few miles to find one.

The mournful gaze Sláine was giving him made it so much harder to move, but their bubble had finally popped, and Eurion, reluctantly, made a move off the prince’s lap even if it was far too comfortable and lovely to be sitting there. His wrists still locked in the others grip made it hard to move far, and the absence of warmth that flooded through him had the assassin feeling cold again despite how warm his cheeks were in comparison to the rest of his body.

Hearing his name falling from the lips of his assassin shouldn't have made his chest feel like it was caving in from the rapid thumping of his heart. Sláine bit his lip as his smile threatened to bloom into a ridiculously pleased grin, but his reaction still sparkled in his eyes. "I'm holding you to that," he murmured, then let Eurion's hands slip through his grasp so the assassin could get up without being subjected to a pouty royal. The statement had felt like a promise, and he so desperately wished that it would hold true and fulfilled. He already missed having Eurion in his space; the air around him felt almost empty.

The prince took the newfound freedom to stretch out his body, now that he didn't have a man bigger than him pinning him down. Any minor aches or stiff joints sorted themselves out, with a few grunts of satisfaction from Sláine. But he couldn't keep himself away from Eurion for long. His gaze fell onto the man, and it snagged on the clothes the assassin had donned for the night. They were close enough in size that, despite the height and build difference, everything evened out to make his clothes fit nicely on the Fae.

"You're free to raid my wardrobe for anything you might want to borrow for the trip. Or even keep, I don't care." Amusement leaked into his tone no matter how innocent he tried to make himself out to be. "Because I'm that much of a gentleman." If those two hellions questioned him, he'd say it was because he wanted to keep their guide properly clothed with fresh garments. It wasn't as if he couldn't have new ones made if he was really hard-pressed for the ones Eurion might take, if any at all.

Eurion snorted a laugh, looking over his shoulder at the prince from where he was headed to change back into his clothes from yesterday, “Oh shut the fuck up before I throw them at you.” There was no malicious intent in his voice, just playful giddiness as he hid his smile by turning away. He stripped himself of the shirt, muscles and tattoos rippling at the movement as he undressed.

He probably would take Sláine’s offer of raiding the wardrobe, only because his clothes were much nicer than his own. They’d have to make a stop at the inn he’d payed for just to get his shit. He wasn’t going to leave it all here, not when it would definitely get stolen and he had some valuables in there. Along side a couple extra daggers and knives he hasn’t brought along. He reminded himself that he needed to get Aideen to give those back. He had no doubt they would be needing them at some point along the way, especially when dealing with the Gods and all the other creatures that roamed around.

“I might take a couple but I’ll need to grab my gear from the inn on our way out.” Eurion said without looking to Sláine. On top of the princes clothes being nice and comfortable, they smelt like him, too, and after being in his bed and arms, he’d rather not let that go, either. But, for the sake of travelling, he’d need his own gear on, at least for a while, just to make sure everything was in order and he had all of his stuff accounted for.

Was it bad that Sláine wanted to trace those tattoos and lines of muscle? Probably. The prince rolled over onto his stomach and hugged a pillow to his chest so he could bury the bottom half of his face in it. He had all eyes on the shifting lines of ink, and all ears for the assassin's laugh. "Ooo, profanity in the presence of the crown and threat of violence. You're really tallying up those offenses."

But as much as he wanted to watch and admire the strength of the man that had just been in his bed, and however much he joked about being a gentleman, Sláine wasn't about to subject Eurion to lack of privacy while changing. With a small huff of contempt, the prince rolled back over and off of the bed, keeping his back to the assassin to be polite and not creepy. The clothes he pulled out and tossed to the side for later were well-worn but sturdy travel clothes. Fitted brown leather trousers and black knee-high boots with thick soles, with a billowy light tan button-up shirt. Next to get tossed was a thick belt that would cover most of his stomach, the shirt meant to be cinched underneath. A decorative sheet of tan fabric hung from the middle of the belt and would fall between his legs down to his knees, black embroidery thick along the edges. And lastly, he snagged a coat that matched the black and tan theme, but this time it was all black with tan embroidery and decorative swirls at the cuffs. They all joined the pile on the bed so that he could grab them while he got undressed.

As Sláine got to work undressing as well, shrugging off his shirt to replace it with the button-up, he hummed in acknowledgement of Eurion's words. "Of course." He rolled up his sleeves and fastened them to his elbows, then glanced back over to his assassin. "I had already assumed that would be our first stop; wouldn't want to deprive you of your things. Ah—If Aideen doesn't give you back what she stole before we make it to the markets, best be quick before she finds a seller willing to pay. She's sneaky like that."

"If you have a problem with my offences you should do something about it then." A soft challenge, even though they didn't need any other distractions. They had spent enough time lazing around this morning. Eurion didn't want to call it wasting time because it wasn't, but it was a distraction when they needed to get ready. They had long days ahead of them, especially if they wanted to make it into the Fae lands for the festival, among raiding the library for some more books that might help them when it came to figuring out what the Gods wanted the markerstones for.

His own clothes probably needed to be replaced at this point. The brown leather that wrapped around his elbows and needed for extra support had been worn down enough that it didn't really do anything or add any extra protection that they may have done in the beginning. Brown, tight trousers with far too many pockets, his shirt to match. The only parts of the clothes that looked relatively new or in better condition were his blue cape that he wore to hide his face, the thing having shitty patch jobs in the fabric from where Eurion had tried his best to fix it, and his boots. To him, the two most important things had to be kept up. The boots for practicality, the cape for more sentimental reasons. Most of his clothes were in the same condition. Worn down, probably had a few patch jobs that he had fixed over the years but hadn't taken much care for and should have been replaced a long while ago. A small reminder of who he was, especially now that he was out of the prince's clothing and back into his own.

At Sláine's words about Aideen, he turned around a little with his usual frown, "If she sells them you're buying them back." Half of those daggers had been gifted to him- some from the Gods throughout the years, some from old friends, his parents before they passed, the others had been ones he had brought himself, letting himself buy something nice. They shouldn't have been sentimental, but they were.

Eurion's soft challenge caught the prince's attention. No, just not caught—stolen. Sláine paused in the middle of dressing when a litany of ideas bombarded his mind. None of them he'd do, of course, mostly because of time. Biting his lip, face warming some, the prince quickly turned away and finished getting dressed. The coat was left on the bed for later. "Maybe. We'll see."

The belt around his waist wasn't all decoration and looks. Sláine hooked his swords through the belt loops of his trousers like normal, but then he opened a locked chest with a key that appeared in his palm, and inside was a collection of smaller weapons meant for hiding. He grabbed a matching set of obsidian throwing knives, which blended in with his black waist belt as he went through the process of sliding them into hidden sheathes. The edges were sharp enough that the prince, used to handling weapons, was careful with them as he handled each one. The last one he pulled out didn't get put away, but rather got the blade wrapped in its own little leather cover and set off to the side. Sláine closed the chest, locked it, and magicked the key away once more before standing and heading over to Eurion, protected knife in hand.

Up close to the assassin, Sláine was suddenly overly aware of the height difference. It wasn't much, but Eurion was tall enough that the prince had to look up. He ignored whatever feelings were fluttering about his chest, and the fact that his face stubbornly held onto the heat in his cheeks and across his nose, and held out the knife with a soft smile. "Consider it done," he assured. "That's unfortunately the hazards you run into when hiring thieves off the streets. Technically, the knights took her in before we got her, but she's still got sticky fingers and an eye for value. I'll make sure you get your things back, though."

Eurion nearly smirked, and as much as he suppressed the action, it did flicker across his lips for a brief moment before it disappeared once more. It wasn’t hard to notice the redness in Sláine’s face, just as Eurion’s had looked only a short while earlier, but it made it easier when he now wasn’t cuddled up or sitting on top of the prince. No, he was at full height, and as much as he loved being held the way Sláine had done, it did feel nice to have a bit of an advantage now they were standing. He couldn’t help but find it slightly funny that he had to tilt his head down to look at him, but he didn’t mention it, though humour danced in his eyes even if his face didn’t show it.

“I refuse to walk around with you three without my weapons.” Especially when they would be fully armed. It didn’t help that their magic was stronger than his, so even without his daggers and knives and bow he prayed was still secure in the inn, it wasn’t exactly a fair fight if things turned sour within the group. He was, however, a little hesitant when taking the knife from Sláine, only because it felt strange to be doing so. He weighed it in his hands, feeling the handle and the blade carefully as he had done so with every other weapon he had ever held. Expertly made, and gorgeous.

Eurion didn’t say anything else as he made sure he had all his things, and the book, before heading for the door. He wasn’t going to waste anymore time in case Aideen had done something sneaky with his shit and he wasn’t going to put it past her from now the prince spoke about the guard. He felt bare without them, and was only becoming far too aware of the absence of the weights around his waist and legs at the lack of metal he carried.

"Yeah, yeah, laugh it up," Sláine pouted, rolling his eyes at Eurion's obvious amusement at the reaction he got from the prince. He wasn't used to being shorter than others, even if he was shorter than his cousin's lover; and after a night of having the assassin cuddled up to him, then sitting in his lap, having the man standing over him caught Sláine off guard in several ways. He'd find some way to take advantage of their height difference, he knew, but for now he just pouted and let Eurion have his fun.

It was a fair precaution to be wary of traveling with the three of them, so Sláine didn't hold it against the assassin for wanting weapons and not trusting them enough to be unarmed. The youngest prince was one thing, easily subdued with a bit of laughter or a quiet challenge that was more an encouragement to be further distracted. But it was easy to forget with him that all three were trained soldiers in some capacity. Aideen was a mutt of a woman trained by the harsh world around her and the knights of the palace. Sláine and Caoimhe spent most of their lives honing their magic along with their skill in weaponry. Caoimhe was just as likely to tear out another's throat with his teeth as Sláine was to gut a man without flinching. Eurion was the assassin, but he was outnumbered and at a disadvantage.

So the prince didn't blame him at all, but he still frowned as he grabbed his coat, as well as a bag he kept stored under his bed for travel. It had all the essentials, and was freshly packed from his last trip, so he didn't need to recheck it. Sláine shrugged it over his shoulder and headed over to Eurion. "Wait."

He didn't wait for the assassin to stop. Walking around Eurion to be in front of him again, Sláine pressed his palms on the man's chest and looked up at him. "I'll get your things from Aideen and tell them of our plan. You take what you need from here." His eyes crinkled in amusement. "Please refrain from taking anything ridiculously unnecessary." He glanced off to the side and sucked in a small breath. "I'm afraid they'll make it into an argument, and will try to provoke you more than make it a productive conversation. I'd like to save that for when we're on the road."

Eurion’s frown deepened, settling into its natural state of looking peeved off all the time. He could handle himself well enough, he didn’t need protecting or to have the prince have his conversations for him. He was more than capable of being civil. Although the wag that Aideen had pissed him off yesterday, he refrained from pushing past the prince. They both knew that Eurion could move him with little of his full strength, so him choosing not to with an annoyed huff was a win for the prince.

“Fine. I’ll be over in five minutes.” That was more than enough time to grab a couple shirts and maybe a new pair of trousers that looked like they hadn’t been worn in a while. It was weird thinking he was going to raid the princes closet. Even though what Sláine wore now was clear that it had seen some wear and tear during its day, it was still much nicer than anything Eurion wore or owned. Not that it mattered, really. He was an assassin and clothes had never been an issue because he never had to look good or please anyone, so shirts with holes in them were acceptable when it was just him. He had a feeling that Aideen might make comments about his crap attempting at sewing together the rips that had been too much of an annoyance to leave.

Eurion muttered something under his breath in his mother tongue with a soft shake of his head. He was more in disbelief at himself than anything else. How he was just letting the prince go and get his things. He wasn’t fond of the idea of letting another person touch his weapons, but until yesterday he hadn’t been fond of the idea of touch in general, and yet had spent the night in Sláine’s arms so, clearly it was the day for letting things go. Well, maybe just letting the prince get away with it, because had it been anyone else he would have argued. He turned towards where the prince’s clothes were to have a look at what he had.

Ah, there was the surly assassin he had met. Sláine knew the time would come that Eurion would close back up and start scowling at the world once more, but it didn't stop him from missing the man that had teased him earlier. He hated thinking that he'd never get it again, but also disliked the thought of needing to wait hours upon hours until he could after sundown. But he had to, because Eurion had only made him the exception for so long, and time was a fickle and irritating thing. Alas. The prince clutched at Eurion's collar with a whispered 'Thank you,' then stepped away to join his sibling and friend in the other room.

Though Sláine had obvious favorites, which were loose silks with draping fabrics in a variety of colors, moved off to the side for easy access, the prince also had an assortment of other clothes. They matched all kinds of styles, as if he spent his years experimenting with his own flavor of dress and never bothered to throw anything out. Eurion was bound to find something he liked.

Meanwhile, in the other prince's room, chaos was already ensuing. Caoimhe had picked out travel clothes eerily similar to Sláine, the colors being the only thing different between them—where the youngest wore light tan and black, with dark brown trousers, the eldest had gold, white, and red, respectively. Caoimhe grinned when he saw his brother, joking about how he expected to be down a twin, and only stopped when Aideen chucked a pillow at him. The knight herself bore the badge of her childhood: slim and shredded cotton pants home-style dyed blue with splotches of pink and purple, a hacked up fishing net serving as the patches within some of the holes, a stained, white, long-sleeve shirt that fitted itself to her body, and a black hand-sewn cloak draped over her shoulders with an orange underside. On her hip, a beautifully decorated and engraved sword hung from a colorful stringed belt. The ankle-high riding boots were the only new thing she had, which were a gift from Caoimhe.

The stolen knives were on the prince's table.

Sláine leaned against the door frame and got down to business. Unsurprisingly, the two were skeptical as to Eurion's "intentions" with them, leading them to the Fae lands. The prince was quick to assure them it was his idea, and when he explained the festival, they calmed down a bit. The trust they had for Eurion was extremely limited, just like Eurion's trust in them, but overall they were just happy to be on the road and busy with something. Seems like the two managed to kiss and make up after their argument last night.

Unsurprisingly, Eurion managed to pick out the shirts that looked the same as the ones he already owned however with less home made stitching in places that there definitely should not be. He only took a couple, the colours matching that of his already dark blue cloak and black with a pair of black trousers to match. He felt guilty taking even just a few, like he was stealing as if the prince hadn’t already told him that he could.

He was still grumbling to himself in his own language when he finally closed the doors to the wardrobe and headed to the other prince’s chambers. He didn’t bother to knock, and his frown was root firmly on his face and had no chance of budging any time soon. Not even Sláine would be able to move it. Eurion only took the room in for a brief moment before his gaze settled on Caoimhe and Aideen. The clothes and the book were tucked comfortable under his arm, with one hand free and practically itching to get his things back. He noticed them only seconds after entering the space, though he forced himself to greet the other two before he went for them.

“Hi. Can I have my stuff?” Not exactly the nicest greeting, Eurion probably should have been a little more gentle, maybe, but at least he said hello instead of blanking the greeting entirely. It was more than some people got, and considering his initial plan was to arrive and kill the two princes, it was definitely a better way to say hello compared to what he would have done last night. Even though he had asked, he didn’t wait for an answer before he was moving to grab them. Too bare, too light, dangerous it was to be in a room with people who would strike him down at the slightest sigh of backstabbing or a secret motive.

Sláine restrained himself from leaning into Eurion's side when the assassin showed up, keeping a straight and unaffected face at the arrival of Eurion in the middle of their conversation. Caoimhe and Aideen shot Sláine questioning looks, likely wondering why he had let the assassin roam free without supervision, but he chose to ignore them.

Aideen held up her hands in mock innocence, backing away from the knives and grabbing a light travel pack. "I wouldn't dream of keeping your stuff," she said, though she was grinning as if the very opposite was true. She wondered what went on in the other prince's room last night. They hadn't heard anything concerning, but the two had taken a while to get ready to leave. Even Aideen and her prince were left waiting for Sláine to arrive, and that was saying something. Her mouth opened to question it, a teasing remark on the tip of her tongue, but a hand clamped over her mouth and dragged her back into a familiar chest. Caoimhe nudged her away to keep the two mostly separated, as he already knew that a brawl was bound to happen, and Sláine had his thinking face on.

"Okay, so travel options. We could fly—"

"Eu'ne take ages to bond with a rider, and we can only fit one rider on them," Caoimhe interrupted. Aideen wrenched herself out of the prince's grasp and wisely kept quiet, expression settling into a more serious one. Caoimhe ticked off a finger, then another. "Plus, they're kinda conspicuous."

Aideen glanced at Eurion, then back to Sláine with her arms crossed. "Horses, then? Faster than walking, can carry our things, but less conspicuous than flying beasties. 'Course, walking is always an option."

Sláine weighed the options. "Might work. We'll have to stop in town, though. Eurion needs to get the rest of his things." He faced the assassin, including him in the conversation. "Opinion on mode of transportation?"