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

Started March 15, 2023 by @ElderGod-kirky group

tune

The tormenting was going to drive Eurion crazy over the next week. As much as it was a good idea to wait, to learn first and hold off rather than taking Sláine when they were both tired, horny and desperate, it was still going to make the assassin go ballistic, especially when he could tell Sláine wasn’t going to make it easy for him. Not when he was arching into him and breathing those words into his ear.

It was all talk, especially suggesting taking the prince in the library because that most certainly wasn’t going to happen, but Eurion wouldn’t lie that the thought turned him on more than it should have, and he had to force himself to not tighten his grip on the prince and make him shut up in a multitude of ways they would both enjoy.

“Only if you want Caoimhe and Aideen to watch and hear you begging for me.” Was his only reply, and his voice was more guttural than it should have been.

Eurion hummed at the bites that Sláine decided to leave and had no qualms with it, even if he wanted to have those marks left on him in places where it was clear he was off the market, they shouldn’t, and so he would take the soft nipping for the time being, cuddling into the prince.

“Regardless, Skyfall will be a time to relax, but it gives us an opportunity to search Dalthia for information while we’re there. The libraries have books dating back to the Founding, that’s over a millennium of history,” Eurion traced the outline of the prince’s horns delicately, “That’s plenty I’m sure we can find.”

As much as he wanted to focus on the task at hand, he couldn’t help but think about the festival, the celebrations and traditions that he would get to experience, to share with Sláine, with all of them. It made Eurion almost giddy to think about.

Eurion's voice. He hadn't realized just how attractive a person's voice could be, but the assassin had Sláine burning up and squirming at the slightest change in tone—not to mention the switch in demeanor, how he spoke to the prince when asserting himself over him. Even as Sláine bit his lip and pressed himself into Eurion, he sighed a little in disagreement. "My brother has already walked in on me before. Once is enough." At least then it had been a time wholly different from now. Sláine was absolutely sure that he'd die if Caoimhe walked in on him and the assassin, heard the things being said, saw how Eurion could have his little brother by the literal throat.

Then he got distracted, both by Eurion's total switch in tone and subject, and the delicate touch to his horns. The prince shivered, feeling every movement as if it were over his skin, even the pressure of the assassin's touch. They weren't quite sensitive, but they might as well be with how Eurion was handling him. Or maybe his body was just hyper aware of everything the man did to him. What were they talking about again?

"Right." Sláine buffered a bit, thinking over the words he hadn't registered quite fast enough. Skyfall. Library. "It's a good place to start, even if it doesn't have everything we need, and I think we'd all enjoy a bit of time to relax." He kissed the hollow of Eurion's throat. "Especially you."

He was looking forward to seeing the festival, seeing Skyfall in action and enjoying the food and drink and dance. He wanted to see Aideen and Caoimhe having fun together and experiencing something knew, especially Aideen. And then Eurion. Gods did Sláine want to see the man happy and having fun while experiencing his culture, something that he never got to have because of the fuckers controlling his life.

This trip was a bit of a "fuck you" to the Gods, in several different ways, even if it would help them in the long run. But Sláine could only think about giving Eurion something to remember—a time to enjoy himself, whether it be with the prince or the festival itself.

One day wasn’t going to be long enough to relax. The festival would span over the course of a week, especially with the eclipse occurring during the same time, maybe even the same day. Eurion presumed it would be. To have Skyfall and the eclipse at the same time was a rare opportunity and if he knew anything it was that the Fae weren’t going to let a chance like that slip away.

“I don’t think even with the festival I’ll be able to relax as much as you’re hoping.” Eurion sighed, nuzzling closer to the prince if that was even at all possible.

There were too many things that could go wrong, too many things that needed to be done before the festivities even began. Like masks, outfits to fit in, making sure the witches were at least somewhat Fae like so they wouldn’t be noticed. He doubted they would be, well, Aideen, at least, the horns the princes had were a dead give away that something wasn’t right and if they were going to enjoy their day then the least amount of trouble they could get into the better.

Although trouble seemed to follow Eurion wherever he went. Whether he liked it or not there was always something that happened. Like the night stalkers. The thought of what happened in the woods had his mind turning to the possibilities of how they may have crossed over, had him aware of his wound and the pain, causing him to adjust slightly with a small wince.

“How do you think the night stalkers crossed over?” He asked Sláine quietly. Probably not the best topic of conversation for their domestic cuddling but the curiosity and worry was eating away at him.

Sláine sighed, a bit disappointed but not surprised that Eurion was being pessimistic about his level of enjoyment. He couldn't blame the man for feeling that way, what with his occupation being and what his life has been for who knows how long. That's why the prince didn't argue, or try to suggest otherwise. Eurion knew himself best, and if he ended up having a better time than expected, then it'd be a pleasant surprise where Sláine could say 'I told you so.'

Altering their appearances wouldn't be much of an issue, if they didn't over exhaust their magic beforehand without some figurative stretches and warm up. Caoimhe would need to either stay close to Aideen to hide her witchiness, or enchant a piece of jewelry that they all hoped she'd keep on. Sláine would probably employ their resident Fae to check over his appearance before they arrive at the festival—just to be sure, not for any other reason. Maybe he should've been a little more worried, but in his tired and comfortable state, he couldn't find it in him to worry about that particular thing.

On the other hand—"I don't know." Sláine traced symbols over Eurion's chest, just to touch him while he mulled over the concerning encounter. "Easiest answer would be a random opening between worlds, unregulated but open enough for them to crawl through. Like maybe two collided and temporarily overlapped." That's how his cousin, the King of Beasts, earned his name. The raig that guarded him since childhood was a creature from another world, and many others had tormented him due to unpredictable openings letting them into their world.

But things couldn't be easy. They were never allowed easy answers. "But there's something off about it. I don't think it's that." Sláine then drew circles and spirals, as if he was translating his thoughts onto Eurion's skin. "Pulling Echta to us to use its atmosphere shouldn't have been as hard as it was. It's practically the most manipulable world we've utilized because it's so small, but it was almost as if something was getting in the way of it, or pulling it away from me."

Eurion returned to fiddling with Sláine's hair, if only to distract himself from his own thoughts, as well as combing through the prince's mess of soft curls. If it had been a struggle to bring Echta to their own, then something was going on in the background that they didn't know about. Considering how the Gods seemed to be insistent on taking the two princes out for whatever reason they had, it wouldn't surprise Eurion if it was interconnected. Or maybe someone was taking advantage of the open distraction.

"Someone's meddling with things," Eurion said, the concern in his voice was subtle, but it was there, "If it was difficult to pull the world through there's something messing with realities. Bringing creatures through that shouldn't exist, too, it's gotta mean something."

And there was also the problem of the suffocating magic that the night stalkers seemed to possess. Any idea of what it could mean, Eurion didn't know, because none of the stories he remembered about the things ever mentioned them holding magical abilities that would cause such an issue. Especially a magic that felt like his own was both cowering away from the stuff. It was wrong, in so many ways. It also didn't help that the night stalkers were creatures that were fucking hard to kill if you didn't know what you were doing. Two critical, aimed blows? The knowledge would allude most if they hadn't heard of them.

"Could it have something to do with The Middle?" He asked. If the reality held and weaved most of the others together, maybe that was the reason why Sláine wasn't able to easily collide them as he was used to. If there was something wrong, someone impacting The Middle? Eurion doubted that the results would be pleasant, and cause more harm to their and many other realities, too. What else might have slipped through the cracks into other worlds different from their own?

The prince froze. He hadn't thought of that, and it was terrifying how plausible it was. It made sense and it chilled Sláine to the bone thinking about it. "Fuck," he whispered, then slipped into tangled and thick Gaelic as his thoughts spiraled down into all sorts of possibilities. "World, doom us, for we will not live to see our next tomorrow under the cover of these sins. Light the lanterns over our graves so that we are not led astray." The plea was instinctual, as the horror of what Eurion suggested struck the prince to the very bone.

Sláine switched back, even if his accent was thicker than normal. "If someone got into the Middle, got to the heart, and somehow got control over it, then that would be bad. Really bad." But not impossible. The prince's family was not the only one with access to that divine plane of existence, they were simply blessed by it and welcomed without contest should they want to slip into that non-world. "The Middle is an entity of its own, sort of. Like a god, but not a being. That means it would fight, but it's not impossible for someone to start messing with the intricacies of things and asserting their own control, if they knew how to."

Maintaining the balance of the worlds and realities stretched across the universe, overlapping one another and drifting through their personal orbits, and only interacting when someone breaks those rules—someone like Sláine and Caoimhe. If someone managed to harness the power of the Middle, they could manipulate anything to be how they wanted it to be.

It may seem hypocritical for him to be horrified by the thought, but the Mac Arthfaels had a deal with the Middle. They harnessed its power, a magic gifted to them, and used it to protect people. They were living vessels of the Middle's goodwill, even if they didn't directly interact with it like Eurion did with the Old Gods. To manipulate such an entity and use it to manipulate things that shouldn't be messed with was a gross violation.

Eurion pulled back from where his gave was settled between Sláine’s horns, gently lifting his chin so he could make eye contact with the prince, “Hey, hey,” It was clear just how terrified he was at the proposition that The Middle was the reason behind all the strangeness and the cause of all the dilemma that seemed to be happening around them, “Whatever is happening we’ll work it out.”

The four of them would be able to figure it out, surely. Two princes, their guard and an assassins Their talents combined were far vaster than it should have been, especially with all their backgrounds and long lives for three of them. If they used their knowledge and skills to their advantage it would work out, especially with Caoimhe and Sláine’s connection to The Middle itself.

“Your family are connected to The Middle. If there’s any way you can communicate with it, I’m sure you will be able to figure out what’s going on. Whoever is messing with it, if it even is The Middle that’s the problem here, we’ll get them.”

And the Old Gods might have something to say about the issues going on with their creations if it wasn’t them that was causing all of this. They’d make it known to Eurion in time if they were or weren’t involved, they always did, even if it was in some fucked up cryptic message that he had to work out, it was better than nothing. The assassin was sure that, if it wasn’t them, they would at least give some insight into how to stop it, especially if it involved taking out whatever or whoever was the problem. It was his job, to kill for them, and if anything posed a threat to the Gods? It wouldn’t be long before their anger seeped through into Eurion’s mind with instructions.

Sláine let himself focus on Eurion's eyes. The dark color centered him, and just knowing who they belonged to calmed his terror enough that he sucked in a slow breath and collected his thoughts. He refused to look away, though, because he knew that he'd spiral once more and probably send himself into a panic. "I know," the prince said, because he did. "Caoimhe and I—we can try to connect to it. Sometime." Not right now. Not when they had other things to focus on. Not when Sláine was afraid of what they'd find.

The Middle was an integral part of their family and magic. The thought of it being tampered with and violated had Sláine fearing what it'd do to him and his entire family. If the entity that blessed them was corrupted, would that corrupt them? But on the flip side, if it was hampered down by foreign influence, the princes might be able to use that to their advantage should they need to. They knew how to push their limits beyond what they thought they were. If they could find a loophole, it might tip some scales into their favor, even if it felt like a disservice to The Middle.

To soothe himself, Sláine stole a slow kiss from Eurion's lips. Just one, so that he could keep looking up at the man in his arms, who was holding him so tenderly and had just been playing with his curls—an act that the prince silently admitted to liking. "We'll figure it out," he repeated, more so for himself than the assassin. "But one step at a time. Let's get to the Fae lands first, get over that hurdle, then go from there."

He and Caoimhe could periodically try to communicate with The Middle, to test to see how responsive it was compared to how it used to be. Just like Gods, it was picky with who it talked to and when, even its chosen family. But if they discovered they were being blocked out anytime they found time to try, over and over again, Sláine would let Eurion know that it was a good angle to look into, then see what they'd do from there. He didn't like the plausibility of it being an option, or the implications, but Eurion was right—they'll figure everything out, and get to the bottom of who was messing with forces that were to be left alone. Sláine traced along the edge of the assassin's jaw. "Thank you."

Eurion returned to fiddling with the prince’s hair, refusing to look away and making sure he looked as calm as he could for Sláine’s benefit. He wouldn’t lie and say he wasn’t worried, but he could feel the questions and doubts around whether they would be okay bubbling away in the back of his mind but refused to listen to them. They had time for questions tomorrow, over the next week of travel before the festival and they could use the library’s of Dalthia to figure something out, even if the information they found was small.

Although, the thanks he received from the prince brought a soft frown to his lips, “Why are you thanking me?” Sláine had no reason to do so, at least on his mind. Eurion hadn’t done anything to warrant thanks. Maybe it was because he wasn’t used to it, or because he felt he didn’t it. Probably a bit of both.

If it was the comfort the prince was thanking him for he definitely had no reason for that. Because taking care of Sláine felt as ingrained in being as breathing or killing. It wasn’t a chore or an effort, he wanted to, and that was no reason to be thanked.

As much as it was going to be difficult to adjust to the want of having someone, the want to take care and cherish, Eurion wasn’t as scared as he thought he would be. With Sláine it felt easy, natural, whereas the thought of comforting, being kind to anyone else would have had him grimacing. But not this time. The assassin’s gaze, even if he was slightly frowning in confusion, was soft, caring, and his touches to the prince’s head, hair and horns, to where he traced the constellation of freckles across the others face, matched, even if he didn’t realise it.

Sláine closed his eyes for a moment, sinking into the feeling of the assassin's touch encircling him, leaning into the ones on his face. He knew they needed to figure so many things out. The weight of all the shit piling up, when Aideen had just wanted to go on an arbitrary trip to the Old Gods, hadn't left the back of his mind since the night he pulled Eurion into his arms and told him he would be okay. But he wanted just one night where he could cuddle into the assassin's warmth and focus on just him. Maybe talk about themselves, give each other insights into one another that was more than just the instinctual solace and possessiveness that had burned through them like a spark in a hayfield. They had a week to figure things out. Convincing Eurion of that, though, would probably be more difficult than it needed to be.

The prince opened his eyes again and smiled a little, using his thumb to trace over Eurion's lips, as if that would erase the frown. "For being here. The comfort. A lot of things." Eurion had done so much for him already, many things that Sláine couldn't put into words. Every interaction between the two felt like something he should be thankful for. The assassin had prevented more injury by thinking quick and getting them out of the night stalker situation. He had checked in when the prince's mentality had plummeted—both times. He was a source of safety and a person that Sláine felt the most comfortable being completely himself around, with no judgement or prior expectations as to how he should act.

But, he thought, Eurion being his above all else was what he was most thankful for. That the assassin had accepted whatever it was between them and decided that Sláine was deserving of his affections. He could've disregarded it, ignored the prince, and gone about his day as if nothing had ever happened between them during the Gods' visit. He could've never stayed laying on top of Sláine, never made the prince's lap a place to sit. Never kissed him.

Sláine lightly held Eurion's face so he could kiss him again, and spoke against the assassin's lips. "For this."

Eurion's frown eased a little at the touch, letting the other sooth what would usually be a permanent feature into a small smile. He found himself quite liking the idea that the prince could draw out the small smiles he seemed to be sporting more and more frequently around him. It was nice, made him feel more like himself and not just a tool that the Gods used when they needed something.

The kiss was more than welcome, another thing he found himself liking - the softness of them, how they were able to kiss and it not have to be hot and devouring all the time. It could be gentle, chaste, and actually enjoyable compared to the clashing of teeth and tongues with those who just wanted to fuck. Intimate, it was intimate in the best way and now that he had had a taste of Sláine, of how they could be, he didn't want those moments to ever end.

"You don't have to thank me for any of those things," Eurion pressed their foreheads together, "I have no clue what the fuck it was that drew us together but I'm grateful." His voice was barely a whisper as if he was afraid to admit that he was grateful for their connection, as if someone would rip him away from the prince the moment he did. Over a century. Eurion knew he would have many more ahead of him, courtesy of his long life, and hadn't even considered the possibility that he would find a connection like this.

It had always felt impossible. That type of connection wasn't possible for someone like Eurion. He didn't deserve it, he shouldn't need or want or crave it but the moment it had flared up with Sláine? He wasn't going back, not now, not ever if he could help it.

"I'm still going to." Sláine's smile grew in the face of Eurion's own smile, a small feeling of personal triumph at summoning the expression once more. He decided that he'll never tire of being the one to break the surly mask of the Fae assassin, not for as long as they ended up together.

As much as he didn't want to think about it, it could be anywhere between a few weeks to years they were together like this. Eurion could decide he doesn't want to be stuck with a royal pain in the ass and hightail it the moment they accomplished all that they needed to. Or he could decide that he wanted to stay, and Sláine would reshape the world for him just to keep the assassin at his side. No one would be able to stop him from keeping this light in his life, regardless of how dark and mysterious the man was. The only person with that power was Eurion himself—the only person to bring the prince to his knees, and the only man he'd ever bow to willingly.

Sláine hummed, mood lightening ever so steadily with the help of Eurion. He was happy with the return of their original position, or close to it, with their foreheads pressed together and breathing in each other. It settled something within Sláine whenever he was this close to the assassin. "We both are. Grateful, I mean. I meant it when I called you a gift; even if I don't fully understand what it is between us, I do know that you are special to me, and are perfect."

He could already hear the protests rising up on the assassin's tongue, so Sláine quieted Eurion with a quiet laugh against the man's lips. He has intended for a kiss, but that would do too. "I don't mean perfect in the way that you are flawless. No one is perfect, and an assassin may be questionable at best, and I'm no poster child of purity and peace either. But you are perfect to me in the ways that matter. Perfect for me. I've never met anyone like you, and I don't want to find another." He paused, and a delicate dusting of red coated his cheeks. "That's not very casual if me to say, sorry."

Perfect for me. The words settled in his stomach in a strange, fluttery feeling. All of Sláine's words settled in that way because no one, no one had called him those words before. A gift, special, perfect. If this was a dream the Gods had created it was crueller than any other trick they had played on him during his life because the words hadn't been spoken to him. Not even by his parents, definitely not by any fling or short-term relationship he had had in his younger years. No, not one, but here the prince was, saying them as if the words didn't have massive implications for the both of them.

No, it was not casual, it was far from casual and slightly terrifying if the assassin was being honest with himself. But apart from the fact that it was new and scary, his heart felt lighter, relaxed, as if some part of him had been worried the Sláine hadn't felt that way, how even if they had both said they didn't want this to just be fun, it was in his nature to be both sceptical and disbelieving, especially when it was something important, even more so when it was something new.

But the way that bond felt like it danced at the words from the prince, it was difficult to ignore, and it made his heart all the lighter and his cheeks all the redder, even more so than Sláine's because it meant more than he would let on or say. It just solidified the thoughts that Eurion had tried to push away, the ones where he thought Slaine may be his mated person. As much as he knew very little the way that his whole being screamed the word and wanted to say it, it had to be true. There wasn't another explanation, apart from the Gods being bastards and messing with their assassin to make everything ten times harder when they decided to pull the curtain away and reveal that the whole thing had been a trick. But even so, Eurion didn't feel that it was, because they could have picked anyone, and if they had a choice, he figured that they wouldn't do something along those lines when he had been sent to kill the princes. No, it was real, terrifyingly real.

"You don't have to apologise," He said after a moment, and he let his smile grow as he placed a soft kiss on Sláine's lips, "I feel the same, your highness." The title was thrown around if only to see the other blush more, to remind them both of who they were. That Eurion had- was an assassin, and Sláine was a prince from one of the most powerful families to exist but they were calling each other perfect for each other.

Knowing that Eurion wouldn't agree with the words initially didn't prepare Sláine for the total shutdown that he watched happen, as though time stood still for that exact moment to give the assassin plenty of room to have a miniature crisis over being called perfect. The prince didn't know just how important his words had been to Eurion, not by a long shot, but he was patient and understanding enough to know that something was going through the assassin's mind, so he waited for the final conclusion.

When Eurion finally spoke, Sláine couldn't help but grin a little, though the expression was soft. "Did I break you?" he managed to ask right before his lips were caught. He returned the kiss without hesitation, then most definitely blushed even more as he laughed a little. I feel the same. How could something feel so right to hear? Sláine swore he could feel that simple statement settling his soul and sending pleasant shivers through his body. But—Your Highness. He'd never get used to Eurion saying that to him, especially the way he chose to throw out the title between, like mocking the prince for forgetting his own place.

"You forget," Sláine said. His touch moved to feel the warmth of Eurion's cheeks, and he reveled in that accomplishment. It was so easy for the prince to blush so prettily for the assassin, and it seemed to take catching Eurion off guard to ever get him to blush. "I've only been a prince for a few years. Compared to the rest of my life, that's nothing."

It was so recent that Aideen, who stumbled into the witch safe haven as a lanky child, knew of them before they got their undeserved crowns. Many people within the kingdom knew them before they donned titles, and the princes had physically felt the shift in attitude towards them. Gone were the days were they could stumble into a pub and only receive loud and brash attention from the others, more interested in the war stories and people they fucked than anything. They could no longer stroll through the streets without noticing how the people stopped to stare, unbelieving that they'd dare walk the lowly soil of the less fortunate. And those that still got rowdy with them had become a little more reserved, a little less open with their opinion on things because they could be too unbecoming for a prince to hear. Sláine missed the days he could get into mischief with the help of others, then get away with it because less eyes were on him—like that orchard bonfire he had created. Of course, he didn't miss them at the same time because that's when his life was a living hell, but it was the only time he wasn't a representation of a powerful country.

But Eurion didn't look at him like that. He looked at Sláine and decided he was someone to be rough with, to protect but not coddle, to say the filthiest of things without consequence or thought of maybe he shouldn't be saying that to a prince. Sláine was no longer his title with his assassin, and he was all the more grateful for him, and it showed in how he looked at the man. Eurion was perfect for him. Sláine even fit perfectly against his body as if they were built to compliment one another. He was everything that the prince needed and wanted, and everything he didn't realize he needed. If that bond between them hadn't been there, Sláine would've liked to say that he'd still be drawn to the assassin, the very man that has intended in killing him and his brother. Fate had its way of getting its hands into everything, and the prince would've done exactly as he had done that night. The progress to where they were now might've been slower, but still there. Sláine just knew it, deep down. Eurion was his, just as Sláine belonged to him.

Eurion had never been one to never have something to say. There was always a retort or argument just waiting to be released at anything someone said towards him if he deemed it appropriate. He was never speechless. Well, he had never been speechless up until Sláine, because the man seemed to be the only person to have him both blushing furiously and unable to find the right responses to what he said, having to take time to think before he spoke. Probably think.

Because words held so much weight, especially those words. Yes, Sláine had broken him when it came to knowing what to say. Had the prince’s hand not settled on his face he would have hidden away in the man’s head just to give himself a moment to calm the fuck down but that smile- grin - and the way the other looked at him. The softness of the gaze, the way Sláine’s eyes locked with Eurion’s in an expression no one had given him before just made that redness worse, and his heart race. Killing? Easy, it wasn’t nerve wracking when you were good at it and had been trained in the art for years, but romance? Intimacy on the level they would be exploring with one another for Gods knew how long, that was what had the assassin panicking over, in a good way, at least.

All thoughts of teasing Sláine about his title were long gone when Eurion felt that hand on his skin, saw that grin and heard the prince speak. He said those words as if he meant them, truly, and as if Eurion was deserving of them. He’s always be a little doubtful, the deep, ingrained fears and insecurities he tried hard to forget would always be there, but that ache of them lessened when he heard them. When they came from Sláine, the prince who somehow managed to compliment him in every way down to how they held one another. Even yesterday when they had first held each other in the morning without knowing or saying anything, how the prince had eased his worries so easily when it would usually take days. And impossible, rare bond - mating bond - Eurion was glad to find.

“Sláine you-“ Eurion didn’t know what to say, and the way he stuttered over his words - the jumbled mess of Fae language mixed between the other just had the assassin groaning in embarrassment, “Gods you- fuck you’re going to be the death of me.”

Sláine visibly melted in the face of Eurion's embarrassment and panic. "Oh, acushla," he breathed. He hadn't realized just how bad Eurion would react to his words. A part of him felt bad, because it was clear that they were so foreign to the man that he didn't know what to do with them. Had no one really called him special? Perfect? Surely his own parents had, but Sláine was beginning to doubt that as the seconds went by and Eurion only broke down more.

But Sláine was also determined to give as much as he got. The assassin may not be the most verbal with his affections, though he had voiced his feelings plenty of times, but he was clear in the way he treated the prince how he felt. And Sláine wanted the assassin to know these things about himself that were bubbling beneath the prince's skin, things that he would've held off on had it not been clear that Eurion was starved of these kinds of affections. Sláine wanted to make sure the man knew, even if it took him repeating everything every night they spent together.

Gently grabbing one of the assassin's hands, Sláine started talking. He made sure his voice was low, just for Eurion to hear, but that it conveyed just how much he meant these words. "As much as I want you alive, I'm going to be mean for a moment, okay?" The prince directed Eurion's hand to his throat, pressing the other's fingers into his pulse point, which was kicked up in a mix of nerves and intense feeling for this man.

"Do you know why I call you that? Acushla? It comes from a word said to mean 'darling'." He pressed just a little more, just as his pulse jumped. "But it literally means 'pulse', or 'vein'. I call you that because you are as important to me as the thing you are feeling right now. You are in my veins and in my heart. The more I'm with you, the more I can't go without you." Sláine let go of Eurion's hand to cup his face again and trace over the beautiful blush. "I can't explain it, but I know it is right. You're not some nothing and no one that crawled through the window at night. You are a man that is passionate, and smart, and tirelessly devoted to anything you set your mind to. You were always bound to be someone's lifeblood, because you care so deeply even if you forget about yourself, and you notice the small things that others would otherwise look over."

Sláine let out a shaky breath and looked Eurion in the eye, and through his nerves he still gave a warm smile, because something within his soul—maybe that bond—glowed with the words and echoed his feelings. "And you're mine. Somehow, some way, you're mine. And I am giving myself to you because I trust in you to care for me in the way you have been this entire time—perfectly."

Whether it was Sláine’s words or actions, that had Eurion turning his head into the man’s hand in a poor attempt to hide away, he didn’t know. Probably both. Most definitely both. The more the prince spoke the darker his cheeks went until they were as red as the morning sky before a storm, or a field or poppies after a battle of bloodshed. Had it always been so warm in the room or was it just him?

Mine. The words echoed through his body and soul as if both shocked and over joyed to hear them. Eurion was water in the prince’s hands, he was at Sláine’s complete mercy because what the fuck was he supposed to say to that?

His parents may have been loving, but not in the way they should have been. Not in the way where they thought he was perfect or special. They’d always said Eurion would do great things, at least, they hoped, but they had never found him perfect. Never found their son special the way others had. Just hoped he would achieve great things in some way. How they would react now knowing their son was a murderer Eurion had always known it wouldn’t be good had they been around to find out. He wasn’t the type of person who was good. In fact, he was the exact opposite. He wasn’t perfect, far, far from it.

It was unbelievable, really, to hear and watch those words be spoken, feel Sláine’s heart rate as he said them, as he called Eurion his own pet name as if they had been together for years. Those words weren’t just said to anyone, especially to someone like him. He had tried to murder Sláine. Well, had been planning on trying, at least. Planning on taking out the man who now had him melting and blushing and burning up at the slightest touches.

“Yours.” The word was soft, almost a whisper, but the truth. Sláine was his, as he was Sláine’s. Whether or not they had known each other for years or the two days they had spent together it didn’t matter, the bond didn’t care, just that they were together and they stayed together, “Yours,” Repeated, for good measure, more for himself than anything, “My mate. Mine, and I am yours.”

"Yes." Sláine let Eurion hide away, though not without kissing his other cheek just for good measure, because he couldn't keep himself away. "Mine, and yours. And I'm going to keep telling you these things, because you deserve it. Because I'm yours. The more we learn about each other, the more I'll have to confirm and add onto these things." Another kiss, along with a gentle stroke of his thumb over the assassin's burning face. "I just ask that you tell me if it's unwanted, at any point."

The prince wasn't going to bombard Eurion with compliments and soft words that clearly struck into the heart. The assassin was usually so quick to have a retort, armed with a militia of responses and remarks that either deflected the topic or carried it on. But the assassin had basically shut down and melted into Sláine's grasp, so this was something he wasn't prepared for or used to, and it killed him a little to know that. Even if he didn't like the thought of others that he might've taken up as lovers, he ached thinking that no one had cared enough about him to tell him how special he was.

Knowing that, though, he knew that Eurion might want to hide away for a bit. He bumped their noses together and murmured, "I won't be mad if you hide. I'm right here if you need to."

Two days, and already there was this chokehold on him connected to Eurion. Would it ease after a coupling? Or would it intensify? The prince didn't know, nor did he know which one he preferred, but he knew that he wanted to keep learning about Eurion beyond these intimate feelings and moments centered around their instinctual bond. He wanted to know silly little things about the assassin, as much of his past as he was willing, just anything. The prince wanted to know Eurion inside and out, and he wanted the assassin to know the same about him. He couldn't remember a time when he had wanted to know someone so strongly before.

For now, he let Eurion broach the subject, because right now Sláine had been a little mean to him by saying things that broke the assassin. The prince would let him recover in his own time.

All Eurion could do was nod a little in response before moving himself slightly so he could tuck his face away into the crook of Sláine’s neck. He was sure the prince could feel how hot his cheeks were against his skin but he didn’t care. He just had to do something for the time being so he could collect himself.

The prince’s words meant more than he would ever be able to express. It was strange, really, because in over a century no one had said those words and now here they were, here Sláine was, saying them to him as easily as breathing. His would-be-assassin, Eurion, who usually had a permanent frown on his lips had completely folded at the simply suggestion that he was perfect for someone.

After a few moments Eurion mumbled, “We should get some rest.” Because they should. They were both tired, injured. They had another long day of travelling ahead of them and they needed the rest. It was a way for him to take the attention off of himself and turn it towards something else. None of this he was used to, not in the slightest. But, the assassin wrapped an arm around Sláine’s waist, tugging him in as if it was entirely possible to pull the man into his soul, because touch simply wasn’t good enough and the prince simply wasn’t close enough and it almost had him whining in protest. It did, however, have him pouting a little.

Sláine wasn't sure if he'd be able to get any sleep, and he didn't want to disturb Eurion with his nightmares, but the assassin didn't need to know that. If he ended up crashing at some point during their walk, Aideen would bully them into taking a rest while the prince power napped. They've done it before. Though, he also didn't want to hinder their travel time more than need be. It was a vicious cycle of debate that the prince kept to himself to ease Eurion's mind of any more worry.

Laughing a little—and absolutely feeling the heat of the man's blush against his neck—Sláine rested his cheek on top of the assassin's head and sifted his fingers through Eurion's hair, holding him in place. "Get some sleep," the prince softly ordered, "I need you healed as soon as possible." And for good measure, because he could feel the pout radiating from Eurion, Sláine hooked a leg over the man and curled it around one, locking them together along with the arm wrapped around the prince's waist. They couldn't possibly get any closer, but to Eurion it would never be close enough, he imagined.

Well, there would be one instance where it might be close enough, but that wasn't until Skyfall, and under entirely different circumstances.

Holding Eurion like this, cradling his head and curling around him, felt wholly right to Sláine. The kissing was good—great, even—but every time they held one another like this, be it standing or in bed together, it clicked something in place within him. Almost like two puzzle pieces snapping together, a whole made again.

It didn't take long for the assassin to fall asleep considering he felt utterly drained both physically and emotionally now. What Sláine had said had been good, nice, kind and Eurion could tell the way that the prince had said them that he meant them. But it still hurt. Knowing that those words had never been spoken before had his heart burning.

Either way, sleep came quickly because his side hurt and he knew he needed to rest. He wasn't stupid, well, that was debatable, but when it came to taking care of himself he was aware of his limits and what he needed to recover. Rest was one of those things. It made it easy when Sláine was holding him as he was, fully wrapped in his embrace as he had been last night after the Gods visit.

Everything seemed like it would be okay when they were together like this. Like the Gods weren't an issue, that there wasn't someone messing with realities and bending The Middle to their will and merging realities. Everything was going to be okay when they were this way. Eurion could relax for once. He was beginning to feel safe with Sláine. As much as they hadn't known each other for long, that bond made everything feel right. It made everything easy, and when he was being held as if he was the only person in the world? It was easy to relax, easy to fall asleep feeling almost protected.

The Gods didn't make an appearance that night. Eurion's sleep was dreamless and deep. He barely moved, staying situated in Sláine's arms and in the crook of his neck, breathing the prince in, feeling his breathing and breath on his neck. It was nicer than it should have been, calmer than any other sleep he had had in a long time. By the time morning arrived with its streams of gold and soft bird song, Eurion was content to stay where he was and had no inclination of moving anytime soon.

Sláine's sleep with fitful, and shallow anytime he did fall asleep. Even though he logically knew that the cause for his ingrained fear was long gone, that he didn't have to brace himself for a punishment, it didn't stop him from waking himself anytime he fell just a little too deep. A protective drive also kept him awake. The prince kept Eurion tucked into his arms and body, as if that could shield him from the touch of the Gods. For most of the night, he stared into empty shadows while focusing on the assassin's breathing, or any possible movements that would signal a nightmare or vision.

Nothing came. That didn't stop him from constantly keeping watch, but it did relax the grip his anxiety had on his heart enough that he eventually did something else; calling on The Middle.

The prince didn't normally call it when there wasn't a dire need, but while he had the time, Sláine figured he might as well try to see if something was wrong with it. No response came to him, not even a tug on his magic, and is disheartened him. But there also wasn't an obvious blockage, so he took that as a sign that he still had some sort of backdoor into The Middle. After he gave up trying, he noticed movement in the shadows of the room, and tensed around Eurion protectively.

'Relax, princeling. I won't hurt your pillow.' A familiar voice slid into his mind, crowding his thoughts and shoving them aside to make room for it. The figure moved, silent as could be, and leaped onto a table beneath a window. Now shrouded in moonlight, Sláine could get a better look at the figure—his guide. Solise was a strange creature Sláine had never encountered before, but given she was a Middle-created representation of him, he wasn't surprised. She was white and cream-colored, with the body and legs of a fluffy cat that tapered into a long and thinner tail tipped with feathers, the head of a bunny, and the wings of an owl, and was just a little bigger than an average house cat.

Sláine narrowed his eyes at her as she made herself comfortable, wings tucked and tail wrapped around her paws. "Why are you here?" he whispered. The prince wasn't about to wake up Eurion.

Solise seemed to roll her pure black eyes, with the head movement to go with it. 'You called to The Middle, I answered. That is the best it can do for now.'

Fuck. "So something is wrong."

His spirit guide tipped her head side-to-side. 'It's complicated, and for you to figure out. My job is to make sure you don't die, and as a means of communication, should you want to try again.' She sat up and stretched out her body and wings, then shook. 'You won't even know I'm here. And neither will he.'

But he might. Eurion was good at spotting unnoticeable things, and try as Solise might, his shadows would find her eventually no matter how silent the spirit was. Sláine didn't tell her that, though, and let her mill about for the rest of the night, until the sun started rising and she slunk away into some hidden pocket, invisible to the rest of the world. Maybe back in whatever plane of existence The Middle stashed its guides. But Sláine didn't care, not when he had Eurion in his arms peacefully asleep, and his own exhaustion was forgotten as the prince focused back on the steady breathing and the warmth between them.

It wasn’t long after Sláine’s conversation with Solise did Eurion wake. As much as his sleep had been deep, it hadn’t stopped him from feeling the new presence in the room. It was subtle enough that, in all honesty, when he opened his eyes and it a soft groan he decided not to comment on it. His shadows felt the shift in the dark and only tugged on Eurion softly. Not a threat, but aware of the spirit guide. The assassin was too tired to care or comment, especially when the painkillers had worn off and his side burned.

“Fuck me,” It was worse now he was aware of the pain compared to last night - the painkillers and Sláine had been enough of a distraction and a blessing that it hadn’t been much more than a nuisance, but not anymore. He tilted his head away from where it was buried in Sláine’s neck, blinking up at the prince as his frown returned, “Morning.” He grumbled.

He wondered how much sleep the other had gotten, but taking into account the soft bags under Sláine’s eyes that were noticiable this close, even if it was early, Eurion guessed it wasn’t much. He couldn’t help the soft pool of worry that settled in his stomach. If Sláine hadn’t been there to console him the night before after the Gods, he doubted he would have gotten any sleep, then, and when he had eventually fallen asleep it has looked disturbed. He knew nightmares better than most, but now wasn’t the time to comment. Not this early, not when he was sure the prince would deflect even if Eurion asked about it.

"Later," the prince quipped, then moved his head back when he felt Eurion finally moving away from Sláine's neck. His hand slid from the man's hair to gently cup his face, and a soft smile countered Eurion's signature frown. "Mornin'. I take it the pain's back." Despite the barely-there bags under his eyes, Sláine was about as good as new after a night to recover from his magical backlash and burnout. The minor wounds stung a little still, but they were steadily healing, and he wasn't nearly as aware of them as he was the bruises now coloring his chest from a particular assassin. "How'd you sleep?"

He wouldn't acknowledge his own lack of rest. Not until he inevitably crashed. Sláine knew he was hitting that survival mode where his body and mind poured everything it had into keeping him moving, as if he was well-rested and ready to go, but it wouldn't last long. The prince hoped it lasted just long enough for them to reach dusk before he hit total exhaustion—but then that meant less time hoarding Eurion to himself. Maybe he'd be able to push through just a little longer to savor that time.

But that was a problem for another time. Right now, he had an assassin that was in pain blinking sleepily up at him, unfairly adorable, and Sláine was going to take care of him even if it meant bullying Eurion into letting it happen. Sláine needed to make sure Eurion would be alright, that he wasn't neglecting himself and his injury just because they had to get onto the road sometime soon.

Eurion grumbled his agreement when Sláine asked about the pain. It was definitely back in full force and he should probably take a look to make sure it wasn’t still bleeding and was actually starting to heal, but he couldn’t be arsed and didn’t care all that much - as long as he took something to stop the pain then he would be good to go, “Minus the pain, sleep wasn’t terrible.” For once. Sláine’s naturally calming effect that he had on the assassin was definitely a bonus because he hadn’t slept as deeply and uninterrupted like that for a long time.

He sighed, using the tips of his fingers to gently brush over the bruises he had left last night. The we’re turning a beautiful red and purple, and he couldn’t help but feel a little proud knowing that the prince now wore his marks. The raging possessiveness had faded now that he could see them, as much as he wished they were in more obvious places, it would do for now, and he wouldn’t deny that, as much as they would be hidden, knowing they were there, as a claim on the prince was better than he had expected it to feel.

“Did you sleep?” Eurion asked, moving his gaze from the prince’s chest to his eyes. It waa one of those moments where their little bubble was warm and cozy and the assassin didn’t want to move. It was always reality that swooped them away from these moments, and there was only so many they would be able to steal before the inevitability got caught- whether that was by Aideen or Caoimhe, or even the Gods somehow preventing them rom enjoying their time together. It was entirely unfair. To be allowed those sweet times for once in his life but have reality take them away and the worst possible moment.

Sláine couldn't help but be a little amused by Eurion's grumbling, even if he felt bad that the injury was causing him pain. He always thought it was funny to see the assassin being grumpy and grumbly, because his expression never failed to be a sour version of his pout, and that's all he was ever reminded of. That, and how he hadn't taken long to knock that grouchy attitude after meeting each other, despite the other two getting the permanent frown. "Good," he said, glad that Eurion's sleep hadn't been awful. He had thought as much given the lack of movement, but he couldn't be completely sure.

The prince offered his soft condolences for the pain, then shivered when Eurion decided to start touching his chest—or, more specifically, the bruises decorating his skin. Sláine vividly remembered the night before, what it felt like to have Eurion's full and unrelenting attention and control. The teeth sinking into his skin, the lips on his, the hand around his neck. He'd remember it all every time he thought about the bruises, or when his clothes rubbed against them and they ached. Their little secret.

But then Eurion was looking up at him and asking about the prince's sleep, and he didn't want to tell the truth. "Some," Sláine mumbled, and did his best to leave it at that by making his face as neutral as possible. It wasn't technically a lie, he did get some fitful handfuls of sleep through the night, but they could hardly count as anything fruitful. It still tasted like a lie on his tongue, though, when he said it to Eurion. Sláine didn't want to lie to the man. It felt wrong. But this was something he didn't want to start an argument over first thing in the morning when they should be savoring the time they had together. They didn't have time to worry about a long-standing problem that already had coping mechanisms installed.

Worry lined the assassins features for a moment. He still found it weird to worry about someone, he doubted he would ever probably be used to the feeling but from the way the prince mumbled he couldn’t help but be at least a little concerned. Eurion wanted to push, to ask if Sláine had actually slept more than ten minutes throughout the entire night but as much as he was desperate to find out the truth, he put his trust in the prince. Sláine wouldn’t lie, right? He hoped he wouldn’t, for once Eurion was trusting in someone to be honest so, unless the prince said anything different, for now he would let it slide.

“We should get moving soon.” Eurion said, changing the topic for both their sakes. It didn’t stop his hands from sliding over the bruises, feeling each one, the lines on Sláine’s chest and tracing every muscle he could find, as if memorising what the prince felt like under his fingers. He didn’t know when they would next get to be like this, together and enjoying the company as of it didn’t matter what happened after.

Of course, as much as he said that they should get up, the assassin made no move to do so, because it hadn’t felt like long enough. Eurion couldn’t decided whether or not he liked the newfound clinginess that seemed to arise around Sláine. On one hand, it was nice to finally have someone he wanted more than just fun, and to feel that connection with someone. But it came with a lot of complications, and he wasn’t sure if that was an entirely good thing or not, especially considering who he was and who he worked for.

Worrywart. Sláine appreciated Eurion's worry over him, and would've been glad for it, but this time it just wasn't something he wanted the assassin to fuss over. It wasn't something that would just be fixed in a moment with a lecture or meaningful pleading, so it wasn't worth the concern that lined Eurion's face. The prince will tell him, eventually, what was going on with him. When it became inevitable, probably, that Eurion find out. He felt a little stupid about it, having such a hard relationship with something as mundane as sleep, which was another reason why he wanted to not talk about it. The humiliation.

The tracing his his bruises, Eurion's lovely marks etched into Sláine's skin, was enough of a distraction that he stopped thinking about it. It was time for their morning song and dance, claiming it time to go and not making a single move to do so. "Of course," Sláine said, then leaned in to kiss his assassin good morning, and shut up.

The prince was wide awake with the pleasant ache of his bruises. He liked them. He'd never thought he'd enjoy something like that, but they were a claim to Eurion. They said Sláine belonged to him, nevermind the fact that no one could see them, and it was just them that knew they were there. If given the chance, would Eurion make more? Or was it a spur of the moment, heat of the flaming bond, decision? Sláine didn't want it to be something that the assassin wouldn't do again, so he made it known how much he liked them, and the gentle touch from Eurion over them. "Feeling proud of yourself?" he asked against the assassin's lips with another shiver.

It was difficult to hide the fact that a smirk was beginning to etch its way onto the assassins face. All his years of practised scowling and frowning diminished when it came to Sláine because yes, he was bloody proud of himself for those bruises. It had Eurion’s mind turning to other things, to how the prince would inevitably look with his hand prints, how he would look in so many different ways and positions and it was all amplified when he pictured the prince like that with more of his marks.

“I never knew just how badly I wanted to see those bruises on someone until I saw them on you,” Because he was desperate to leave them everywhere, in any place he could reach or find. To want to bite down and suck on the prince’s neck so everyone was aware that he was claimed, “You have no idea how proud I am of them, or how many ways I’ll have you when Skyfall comes.”

It was almost a crime to wait as much as it was the right thing to do. It wouldn’t matter if it was a random person in a bar looking for a quick night of fun but this was Sláine, and he was going to do right by the prince for once in his Gods forsaken life as much as his voice conveyed only little of what he was thinking.

All Eurion could do to at least try and get his point across was push his lips to Sláine’s in a kiss that was far from chaste and would probably leave him, at least, hot and bothered for a while, especially when he had the prince in his arms and shivering under every touch and gentle press of the bruises Eurion made to illicit as many responses and sounds he could drag from the prince before they had to leave.

Eurion being proud of himself was unfairly hot, especially when it came to being the one to mark up the prince. He should be proud, because Sláine was going to wear every bruise and bite with pride, even if no one would know about them. Sláine wanted to bear Eurion's claim of him. But the assassin might be proud of himself, but the prince was as well getting to change that worried frown into a smirk. It felt like magic, getting Eurion to switch expressions so easily, and it was just as thrilling as discovering what his magic could do when he was just a child.

Sláine smiled, then laughed a little in startled joy as he wrapped his arms and legs around Eurion the best he could in response to the crushing kiss. But as he sunk into the kiss and Eurion pressed into his marks, that laughter tapered off into a pleased little moan muffled by Eurion's lips. No, he had no idea just what Eurion had planned for the two of them during Skyfall, but his body thrummed with excitement nevertheless. If he was this happy with just kissing the man, if just kissing had led them down the hazy path they had fell into last night, then Sláine could only imagine how much he'd like going further. Being completely under Eurion's control, handled in a way that no prince would ever let themselves be handled.

But Eurion was no normal man, and Sláine was no normal prince, and their bond was not the normal. With just a kiss, Sláine sunk into everything Eurion with no care for the world around them. He craved more, even if it was just promises that he simultaneously didn't want to hear because then he'd crave them even more. He wanted everything Eurion could give him, and to give everything the assassin wanted in return. But they could settle with the marks for just the moment. Skyfall. They had until Skyfall. Even if the blossoming need was returning once more.