forum "I would burn the world for you" (OxO Closed)

Started December 01, 2022 by @ElderGod-yellowqueen

tune

Miran clenches his jaw. The air drops a few degrees. "Bel would rather be with his family than people like you." And what Miran claims, he prays is true. They spent years together as children–the four of them. They would hunt and run through the garden and locate all of the hidden servant passages. They would make faces of their father behind his back and face the cruel punishment for being caught. There's at least some relief to know that Bel hasn't disclosed any information about the palace, about their home. It also makes Miran wonder if they tried to torture the information out of him. If anything had happened to his brother, Miran won't hesitate to slaughter this king and all his men on the spot.

"And there's something we both agree on Nicandros." Tired of sitting, Miran stands. "We both want my father dead." He takes a step away from the chair, beginning to pace behind it with his arms folded in front of him. "I know that you're the true heir. I know about your family and my father's cruel deeds–" Pivot. "But I've grown up in the castle I was promised. I know the politics, the relations, the people." He stops and turns to Nicandros. "My crusades for the past thirteen years have been against my father's efforts. Under the guise of his iron fist, I've freed more mages than I can count. I'm sure you're aware of the numbers of assassinated. I can assure you that they'd be doubled if it weren't for my own men." His men gathered from the slums of Araniel, the forces of Blakkast, the under-the-table dealing with Lumiere and Cobrass. "I understand that you may be the true king, but maybe your place is here with your nomads, not atop of Araniel's scarlet throne."

Bel eventually stops struggling, going slack agianst Elora as he shakes. "You don't understand–" Bel hiccups. "Both of our kingdoms will burn–"

Nico raised an eyebrow at him. "Bel is no longer the prince that you knew before he left the palace. Bel is someone else now. Someone who is free to make his choices. Someone who doesn't have to worry about someone watching every step he makes. He doesn't eat as quickly anymore so he can leave the table sooner. He doesn't watch his composure anymore, afraid of getting lectured. He allows himself to show emotion and be happy. He allows himself to tall about his fears and what makes him happy. He's allowed to let himself fall in love. All of which he clearly wasn't able to do at the palace." Nico was angry now. As his older brother, how had Miran let this go on for so long? How did he not see and step in

"You may think the palace and it's crown belongs to you but it doesn't. It belongs to me. My namesake has sat on the throne for hundreds of years. I was born solely for the crown. I was born to rule." In truth, it had been the only reason hos Katherine had him. So that there would be someone to rule when she was gone. Somehow she knew she was never going to live to see the crown fall on her head. "But just because the crown belongs to me does not mean that you have to die. You can swear fealty to me, serve as my advisor and friend. You can swear fealty and live in my kingdom and do as you wish. If can't bow down to me, you can live in exile. I'm sure you can find another kingdom to take you. But if you raise up in arms against me, make no mistake, I will kill you." Nico was still siting, watching the man. "Now would you like to sit and negotiate or are you going to pace my tent all day?"

Elora hugged the prince to her chest, cradling his head. "Shhh," she murmured, "it's going to be okay. It will be. You'll see." She hoped that when Bel saw his sibling alive and unharmed, that perhaps this gap between Nico and hom would slowly start to heal. They both deserved happiness.

Miran barks a laugh, shaking his head. "Please, you've known him for–what? Three weeks? I've known Bel for twenty-two years. Nobody changes that quickly. And those funny little habits you noticed? All four of us have those. We don't drink, we don't like the dark, we don't spend more time than necessary at the dinner table." He stops his pacing to stare at the king. Confusion and anger battle momentarily in his mind. What could this king possibly be talking about? Miran could laugh. "And love? I wouldn't speak on Bel's behalf for that. Stop talking for him and bring him here. Then we can settle this."

"You might have been born to rule, Nicandros, but do you want to? Do you have any reason to other than your blood?" Miran's fully aware of his father's wrongful taking, but because he was king when Miran was born, that crown should go to him–not to the exiled heir. "I don't think you understand." Miran laughs and shakes his head, stepping towards the king's throne. Unconsciously, the temperature begins to drop even more. Miran's mother warned him of losing control of his emotions. She had warned him shortly before she was discovered for witchcraft and was killed taking the blame for Miran. "I don't bow." He owes it to his own mother, to his people who his father had wronged. "I will not." He moistens his lips; they feel too cold. "But I didn't come here for throne negotiations, Nicandros. I came for my brother. When I return and my father finally dies, I'll be happy to have you for an advisor."

It just made Nico sad to hear the prince speak like that. None of them should have those issues. None of them should be afraid of the dark or alcohol or just being themselves. They should be free to do as they pleased. Nico had never gotten such a luxury. Around his friends in the dark or on missions he was allowed to be just Nico, at least to a point. He could relax some and be himself, easy going and playful. But here, he was Nicandros, leader of the Lisais and rightful king. Everyone was looking at him. Everyone was watching him. "I think that speaks volume then, the kind of environment you lived in if all of you are this way. And it speaks more volume that being out of the palace allowed Bel to improve."

Perhaps he shouldn't bring Bel into this. Bel certainly didn't love Nico now. He wasn't sure if the prince ever did but he would like to believe Vel was well on his way to loving him. Nico certainly did. He knew he loved Bel even if he hadn't said it. Even if he wasn't quite ready to admit it just yet.

"I was born to rule. It is my purpose. Your father took the throne from us and I will take it back. There is no way around this." Ambrose was uneasy in the back. Two men whom the throne was promised too. Two men who both wanted it. This wasn't going to go well. Nico continued. "You do not have the right name, the right power. I have remained anonymous all these years. No one knows my true identity without my say so. What do you think will happen when word gets out a Callistar is alive? Who do you think the people will rally too? They may be upset I have been hiding all this time but I did what I had to to survive. For my people to survive. They would rather follow me than you. We both know that. However, I think we might be able to solve this if you want your blood on the throne that bad." He couldn't believe he was doing this. He didn't want to do this. All he wanted was Bel but here was, offering himself. "Chose you or one of your siblings to marry me. Keeps your blood in power and I still get my crown. I'll kill your father and then we can get married, whichever one of you it is."

Miran's face twists the more Nicandros speaks. "How many times do I have to tell you that I didn't come here for throne negotiations?" His voice is practically a growl. "And my siblings have already been sold into enough marriages. I'd rather slit my own throat than force one of them to marry without consent for a second time." And it's the truth. Every time he thinks of his sisters–both fifteen when they were shipped away–his stomach churns. He had been powerless to stop them. His father had said with a rumbling laugh that they could either go or face the dreadful consequences. Their husbands-to-be had been fairly upstanding monarchs–ones that Miran had threatened with an icy death if they didn't treat them well. He had thought Bel would be safe, but the other shoe has to drop eventually. At least Bel had been an actual adult when he was shipped off.

"I won't discuss this with a cowardly nobody any more," Miran says firmly, stepping away and making his way back to the flap of the tent. "I'm going to retrieve who I came from and we'll leave. I'll see you again when history repeats itself." He looks over his shoulder at the king. "I wish you luck, Nicandros. May your life be long and subtle."

That was the wrong thing to say. Ambrose knew that as soon as the words were said. He shifted in his stance, nervous. Nico would not react well to this. Then again, the man had never needed to be very diplomatic. He had never dealt with any royalty before. A few nobles yes, but nothing of consequence. This was not going to end very well if Miran didn't cooperate.

Nico stood up, wind whipping around them, preventing the prince from leaving the tent. "You will watch how you speak to me," he said deathly calm. "Ambrose introducing you as a prince was simply a nicety. Here, on my soil, you are nothing. You are not an heir, and you are certainly not a prince. I am the king and you will treat me with respect. I have welcomed you into my home when I could have very well killed you for trespassing. Now I have promised Bel that I won't hurt you. So this is your only warning. I would hate to break a promise. Now sit back down and let's talk." Nico's expression had gone hard. He resembled everything a king should. The only thing he was missing was a crown on his head. "I will take you to Bel once you cooperate with me. But you should know before you see him, we were having an affair. And while he may be mad at me right now, the effects of that are still present."

Better for the man to get his anger out here than in front of Bel. That was the last thing he needed on top of this. Nico was so tired. He just wanted to go to bed with Bel in his arms. That wasn't going to happen. He didn't think it ever would as much as it hurt his heart. He had lost Bel forever and it was all his fault. He knew that. He just couldn't let go of his trauma. "I'll release my hold on my magic once you sit down." It was straining him, keeping a hold on it. He was already tired to begin with even if he had been asleep for three days. Three horrendous days as he relived every day of his trauma.

With his hand outstretched to the flap, Miran halts as the wind begins to whip around them. "Not only do you tell my brother lies and false promises, you also believe that you could have truly won his affections by hiding magic of all things?" Slowly, Miran turns to face the king. His voice is low, dangerous, slightly gravelly with every word. A small smile tugs at the corner of his lips. "I know you're weakened, Nicandros. You might of had your healers repair your body but I know a broken mind when I see one."

Miran doesn't move from his place near the tent exit. "And to say you manipulated my brother into an affair doesn't surprise me. You found the weak link in his bleeding heart and exploited it. Why do you think I convinced our father to wait so long for him to be sold off? I wanted to give him time to prepare, time to stone his heart in case snakes like you managed to writhe in." His overflowing anger is cold. He doesn't yell, there's no violence or blood spilt on the floor of the war tent. Miran speaks calmly, carefully crafting each of his words into spikes.

"You might of taken advantage of Bel, but it won't be as easy for the citizens of Araniel. They've grown up in the heart of my father's propaganda. The ones who still remember your grandparents on the throne have been beaten into submission or silenced. You can't expect to grab a crown and have everyone love you, Nicandros. You could kill me, but what fun would that be? Killing the king's heir on a peaceful mission to rescue his beloved brother? Turn me into a martyr, won't you?" He smiles. "You'd upset thousands of allies. Blakkast, Cobrass, Lumeire, Irgeven, the tribes of people I safely escorted out of my father’s jurisdiction." He finally takes a few steps towards Nicandros. "You could always lie about my untimely death, but that would make you just. like. my father."

(miran is so much fun to write holy shit akdhjsksk)

Nico looked away, he couldn't help it. He had done that, hadn't he? It hadn't been on purpose. He hadn't meant to keep so much of it hidden for so long. There was just too much trauma clouding his judgment. It had all but doomed his relationship. But how could he tell Bel of his magic? He had seen the way Bel reacted when they just mentioned it. And while he had tried working on Bel so the prince wouldn't be afraid of magic it hadn't worked. He hadn't succeeded. He didn't want to show his magic when he had finally gotten the prince to like him just to terrify him because of his magic. He had planned to wait until he was used to magic and wasn't afraid before Nico would show it. But that had been ruined just like everything else. And it was his fault, completely. Nico had decided to keep his mouth shut. He hadn't intended on hurting Bel. He didn't want to. But there were things keeping him from telling Bel.

"I think if we weren't on opposite sides we would be good friends," Nico finally said. Miran would have fit right in with his group. He could almost imagine it, all of them sitting around a fire, sharing stories and laughing. His stubbornness and knowledge would be a great asset to his team. Alas, they were enemies. They likely always would be. Both men were aiming for the throne, both with their own ambitions.

"What will you do if Bel doesn't want to return with you?" He asked. "What if he doesn't want to leave?" he most definitely knew Bel would want to leave the first chance he got. "What if he doesn't want to go back to the palace? I have shown him the kingdom. I have shown him opportunities he didn't know he could have. And after discovering what a monster your father is, I don't think he will ever want to go back. What if he wants to find a nice little town to settle down into and live out the rest of his days a commoner?"

When the king turns away, a sick curl of satisfaction swirls in Miran's gut. Here in front of the king's two right-hand men, Miran's exploited the lies and flaws in his grand plan. It almost makes Miran laugh. Nicandros actually thought this was going to be easy. "It is a shame, isn't it," Miran admits. "Perhaps if you hadn't kidnapped and tortured Bel, we could actually come to a proper agreement." He steps back, still keeping his eyes firmly on the king. With the wind still whipping around the prince, it's difficult to tell if Miran's freezing emotions are still in play.

"I think you should stop speaking in hypotheticals and 'what if's," Miran says firmly. "It's not a very admiral trait, especially when the subject at hand isnt present." This is far too much talking than Miran would've liked. He's supposed to be gone already, with Bel on Katya's back and heading east for Blakkast. Sella will help them there, at least until Miran's ready to return to Araniel for his crown. "Let's stop running in circles and actually get to why I'm here." Not the subject of his father, not negotiations for the crown, not the power struggle that's bound to happen. "Bring me my brother."

Nico's head snapped back to Miran. "I never tortured Bel. I never put a hand on him that wasn't consented. Do not accuse me of that. I would never have hurt him. Not on purpose." None of this was on purpose. He had never gone into this with the intention of hurting Bel. "Bel has always known what we were bringing him back for, even before we started our relationship. That didn't change after. Something he knew. It was something he wanted to speak about. Something he wanted to do." Not now of course. Bel didn't trust Nico and for good reason. Nico didn't blame him for that. He blamed only himself.

The wind finally stopped and the tent quieted. "I'll take you to Bel, but hear me when I say this. You are not leaving. Bel is not leaving. Your sisters are not leaving. No one leaves this camp until I deem it otherwise. You can argue all you want to but the fact of the matter is that you won't get out of here if you try to escape. You might be able to kill some of my men but you won't get out. We'll get to you first." Nico took a few steps forward. "Now, if you'll follow me, let's go."

"How about we let Bel be the judge on what happened to him, yes?" He keeps his patronizing seeth to a minimum, just because he wants out of this damned tent sooner. Bel, you idiot– Why did he have to get his sticky feelings involved with the whole damn thing. Miran isn't even surprised. He should've helped him more, should've hardened his heart a little colder.

They exit the tent, Miran snapping his fingers and getting the attention of his sisters. They're sitting in the grass, speaking in hands that they made up when they were only children. A code amongst heirs, a way to backtalk their father in silent. Treya follows first with Val behind her. The youngest sways softly, the sudden immersement in magic making her head spin and her nose threaten to bleed. Miran almost wonders if her health was what attracted her to the act of mage killing. Miran always managed his time well around his youngest sister. The last thing he needed was news of his witchhood to blaze through the bigoted kingdom.

How much did you hear? Miran signs to his sisters. A pinch in response. Only a little. Miran nods and looks back to the king–Nicandros. The tnets surrounding him all look the same, and one of them houses his little brother.

Nico didn't respond as much as he was itching to. It didn't matter what bel wanted, none of them would be leaving until Nico could figure out what the hell to do with them. He had several options. He could keep them and threaten the king with them, even if he never fully intended to keep those threats. He could release them and pray that they didn't go back and reveal his identity. He could keep trying with the crown prince, trying to convince him that it was in his best interest to back down. He could try to make things right with Bel. Or he could just kill them all and be done with it. He wouldn't do that of course but this whole mess was giving him a headache. But for now, until he had decided, they would be staying in Elora's tent until further notice. He owed Elora so much for this.

Nico caught on that the siblings were talking in code. It wasn't hard to deduce with their hand movements but he didn't say anything on it. It didn't matter what they were saying, even if they killed Nico they wouldn't make it out of the camp. Everyone was on lock down until further notice. Guards had increased and shifts were longer. They were on high alert. It made him prickle with the guards surrounding him even now but he knew it was the safest choice. And they wouldn't not let him have them.

He approached Elora's tent and took a deep breath. Bel was in there. He was in there and he didn't want to see Nico. He exhaled and lifted the tent flap.

(I don't know if I want Nico to like take over and rule now or like for him not to and him and Bel go live somewhere nice. I had it planned out but like now I'm not so sure)

The tent they're clearly approaching grows closer and closer and Miran wants to break into a sprint. Who knows what condition Bel will be in. Multiple sources claimed that they had not harmed him, but Miran isn't so sure. He wouldn't give these men an inch.

Bel's still collapsed on the floor. He hasn't eaten properly in days, his uneaten soup sitting in a small pile outside his door. He's moved away from Elora. The aftereffects of his panic attack are ebbing away, only a few hand spasms left. In the past three days he hasn't left the tent. He hasn't been allowed to. Elora,while kind, is still a warden. There's noise outside, some that cause him to raise his head. Instead of the singular footsteps of Braxton, there are multiple. The outside flap moves and Bel braces himself for the visitor.

The first thing he notices is a red shirt, the second a very tall man with a stubble and scars across his cracked lips. He smiles, one that reaches his warm eyes and Bel leaps into action–nearly tackling his brother to the ground with a tight embrace. There are another two sets of arms that encircle him from both sides. He doesn't have to look to know they're his sisters. Overwhelmed, Bel cant hold back his choking sobs. "You came–" he whispers, voice cracking.

"Like hell we'd leave you behind," Miran answers, holding him tighter.

(Aww 🥺)

Nico merely opened the flap, allowing the siblings to walk in first. At last, he entered but only because Ambrose had nudged him forward. He stoped in the tent, lingering by the entrance. He knew better to think he was wanted there. He wasn't, by any party. Even Elora was glaring at her. The woman who was never mad at anyone was mad at him. He ducked his head, looking at the ground like a lost puppy.

He couldn't bare to look at Bel, not after what he had done. He was terrified to see what he had done to the prince. He was terrified to show Bel that Nico himself was broken. Perhaps too broken to ever be fixed. He wasn't worth it. He wasn't worth saving. And if he didn't have people depending on him, he likely would have withered away. But there people looking to him, depending on him to save them. And he had tried and tried and failed over and over again. He should just add this to the list of failures.

After a long, long moment, Bel finally pulls away. Seeing his siblings all together, all in one piece, all right there in front of him– He smiles and laughs, or even something close to another sob. "I'm sorry–" He starts, but Miran quickly shuts him up by squeezing his bicep.

"You don't have anything to apologize for. Nothing at all, you hear me Bel?" Miran squeezes Bel's bicep once more before letting go. Val and Treya step away. They're both watching Nicandros. That him? Val would ask in signs. Miran would nod in response. The eldest of the siblings turns Bel around si he can get a full look at the scratches along his skin.

Unfortunately for Bel, that also means facing Nico. He's had three days to wallow in his stupidity and emotions. Nows the time for confrontation. He won't take the first step, but he'll pressure Nico into meeting him halfway. There's too many emotions, too messy to handle and too much company to fully sort them out. "Can… Can I be alone with Nicandros." It's the first time saying Nico's full name aloud. It sounds weird.

Miran pulls away, unbridled rage flaring in his eyes. He looks between the king and the prince, a snarl forming on his lips. "I'll be outside," is what he says, betraying his expression. With a wave of his hand, the three siblings exit, but they stand guard just outside thr tent.

Nicandros stiffened as Bel faced him. He had listened his head at the wrong moment and caught his eye contact. He stopped breathing in those few seconds they looked at each other. Ambrose was at his back, placing a supportive hand on him. Nico didn't know why. No one was on his side in this. They knew ne had been wrong, that he had wronged Bel. No one was standing by his side. Ambrose shouldn't be doing this.

Nico lifted his head to stare at him as Bel cleared the room. His lips parted just slightly before snapped his jaw closed. That had been the last thing he was expecting. The siblings filed out the door, Elora and Ambrose following shortly behind. And then jt was just the two of them.

He opened his mouth and shut it again several times as he thought of what to say. What could he say? He doubted anything he said Bel would listen to. He had no hope Bel would want to stay with him, even after he tried to explain things.

He cleared his throat and gestured to the couch for Bel to sit. Nico didn't move. He stayed where he was. Partly because he didn't think Bel wanted him near. Mostly because if Nico got to close to him he would try to hug him. Finally, Nico spoke. "Sre you alright?" He croaked the words, his voice cracking. Nico was not doing alright.

Ambrose stood outside, pretending like everyone else that they weren't straining to hear what was going on inside. He turned tobthe prince. "I apologize for Nico's behavior. You've caught him at a bad time. He isn't usually this..angry. But, well, you've seen the aftermath of what that witch hunter did to him. He's not well."

Ambrose really shouldn't be apologizing. It wasn't his place. But he was trying to make amends with the prince. At least one of then should. "He didn't hurt Bel. On my mother's grave he didn't. We don't hurt people that don't deserve it. And he, he loves him even if he shouldn't. I'm not saying any of this is okay but it wasn't intentional."

"No," Bel's answer is honest as always. "No, I'm not alright." He stays in his spot, crossing his arms to prevent his hands from wandering and picking at scabs. They would surely become scars if he kept at it. "You lied to me." He swallows, thickly. He doesn't want to cry. He doesn't want to cry in front of Nico. "And you kept lying when all I was with you was honest." His tone edges into accusatory, which Bel isn't exactly going to restrain.

Despite his words, Bel's body is defensive. He barely eyes thr exit of the tent, just in case things go terribly, terribly wrong. "You–" Bel starts but quickly cuts himself off. He won't cry. He won't cry. "You led me on. You knew fully well that you're a liar and that never stopped you from leading me on and on–" He cuts himself off again. "I never thought of myself as a fool, but I clearly was one for thinking you were a good, honest man."

With gritted teeth, Miran stares at the other man. "The only one who should be apologizing for his behavior is your mighty king himself." He takes a shaking breath and turns away. From within the tent, he can hear Bel's voice grow heated. Miran tries his hardest to tune him out. Bel deserves this. He deserves to have this moment before they're both off to go home.

"You say he never hurt Bel, but can you hear his voice?" Miran's voice is tone less as he speaks. "Can you hear the pain in there, sir? His body is wounded, I can tell, but a wounded heart is much harder to fix."

Bel might not be crying but Nico certianly was. Silent tears slipped down his cheeks at every word he said. Bel was right. He was a liar. He had let it go on for to long. He should have said something. He could have avoided this. But he didn't and nowbhere they were, dealing with the consequences. Both of them in pain. "I know. And I'm sorry. I just-" He stopped himself. Was he really about to tell Bel everything? He owed the man that much at least, even if the prince did decide to turn against him and tell his father or anyone else. Even if it got him killed.

"I couldn't. I physically couldn't. I froze everytime I tried." He raised his hands and tried to wipe the tears away. He tried to make it stop. "You might want to sit if you want to hear the whole story. It might take awhile." It certainly would take a while. It was a long story. And Bel needed to hear all of it. Or at least most of it. Nico didn't want to tall about his torture in expressed detail if he could help it.

"All that I ask is that you listen to me, even if I don't deserve it. Just listen to what I have to say. And if by the end you still want to leave, I'll let you go. I'll take you wherever you to go. I'll give you enough money to have a nice life. Or if you want to back to the palace with your siblings- whatever you want." Nico knew the prince would never stay. He had no hope. He was about to tell his story for nothing. It would likely bite him later for doing this.

Ambrose was quiet for a moment. The prince was right. It should be Nico apologizing. He screwed up. He needed to fix this.

"And you're right, this is his fault. He knows that and we know that. But there is more to this story than you think. That witch hunter you kill? He screwed Nico up really bad. Kidnapped and tortured him fir months. All because Nico trusted the wrong person. I'm not saying any of this is okay because it's not. But there's a reason behind it. You shouldn't be so fast to jump to conclusions."

A very small part of Bel wants to step forward and wipe his tears away. Its not a hard temptation to resist. After everything that's happened to Bel thus far, Nico deserves this. He deserves to win his own tears. Regardless of how he wants to walk away, to be done with Nico and this city forever, Bel carefully makes his way to the couch to sit. He shouldn’t be giving Nico this satisfaction. Bel should leave and never look back. He should leave Nico broken the same way he broke Bel.

But that's not who he is. "Make it quick," he demands, crossing his arms even tighter and bringing his knees up ti his chest. His shirt slides down his neck ever so slightly. One of his deep scratches had reopened, but he doesn't care. Let it bleed. "I have family to see. It’s been quite a while."

"Stop making excuses for him," Miran seethes. He's had quite enough of listening to high and mighty voices. "Just–don't even talk to me. You have nothing to say to me that's worth my time."

Nico fought the desire to remind Bel it had been him who had wanted to talk, not Nico, and thus it was the prince keeping himself from his family. Nico would have happily waited a few more days before trying to face this. Or at least when he was mentally sane again, or as sane as he was going to get. Even now, every shadownthat moved he was flinching, as if expecting something to jump out of it.

If the situation hadn't been what it was, Nico would have commented how adorable Bel was. It was cute listening to him demand things from Nico, sitting there with his arms crossed. It was adorable. Bel was adorable. And Nico was so in love with him it hurt. Every breath he took was a struggle. Then his eyes fell on the open wound, the blood pooling, and hi breath hitched. He knew Bel wouldn't accept his help but he pulled out a handkerchief and held it out if Bel wanted to take it.

Nico grabbed the chair that was facing the small couch and pulled it a bit of a further distance away. He doubted Bel wanted him that close and Nico couldn't think being that close. And for this, he needed to focus. This wasn't a pretty tale to tell. But he didn't have a choice. He owed Bel the truth. The whole truth. So after taking an encouraging breath, he started taking and he didn't stop. "You weren't the first person I fell in love with. There was another, Artie. He had been a sweet boy. I met him on one of our missions. Two years ago, we had gotten intel your father's soldiers were using a border town to transport weapons and such back and forth between the village. We needed someone to infiltrate the village, see how much they depended on the bridge and if they coukd survive without it, and hopefully turn the town over to our cause. It took exactly two months to do this. We decided on Braxton, a woman named Cassandra, and myself. The risk factor was relatively low compared to our other missions, not that that's ever stopped me before. But this should have been relatively safe. We entered the village under the guise or traveling siblings. We were trying to cross the border to get tobfamily or some other bullshit like that."

The prince knows that he was the one who wanted to talk to begin with, but here he is letting Nico spill his story. This is what Bel wanted and what Nico promised. They're at Nico's home. It's about damn time Bel's taken out of the dark.

Bel gnaws at the inside of his cheek as he stares at the extended handkerchief. Slowly, as if dealing with a wild animal, Bel reaches out to take it. He doesn't think about how it smells like Nico. If he thinks too much he'll get sick. Instead of pressing it to the bleeding wound, Bel just balls the handkerchief and tucks it away. Maybe he'll use it later.

Nico starts talking and Bel lowers his eyes. He stares at the floor of Elora's tent, listening to the story. Fallen in love. Bel wants to think it's another lie–but, gods, Bel's stupid, trusting heart can't help but take Nico's words as true. He can taste the bitter tone in Nico's voice. Whatever this relationship with Artie had been clearly hadn't ended well.

"They were suspicious of us of course. They had every right to be. Soldiers were coming in and out of their town, taking everything and bleeding them dry. They had a right to be suspicious of us. We could have very well have been undercover soldiers for all they knew. It took a few weeks for then to warm up to us. In that time we were waiting, there was a boy. His name was Artie. He was a sweet kid albeit a bit loud and enthusiastic. But that what I liked about him. He kept following us around, flirting with me whenever he had the chance. It took some time but we finally let him into our group. Told him what we were apart of and what we planned to do." Tears were tigning his eyes again as he pictured the boys face. Even after, even after he wasn't mad. He didn't blame Artie. He had been led astray.

"He introduced us to some of the locals, got us the right contacts. Because of him we learned that the bridge they were using wouldn't completely disrupt trade. There was another bridge, though smaller and more run down, that they coukd use as long as we helped them repair it. But it was to small and to out of the way for soldiers to use. It was perfect. So we started to plan." He had to pause. He needed to take a breath, calm himself before he started fully crying. "All while I was falling in love with Artie. When I wasn't busy planning I was with him. He showed me the town, introduced me to his family. We shared kisses around dark corners and slep together almost every night. When he- when he told me he loved me was the day that I told him. I told him who I was. That my name was Nicandros Callistar. That I was the leader of the Lisais and the rightful king. I should have known when he was happy, ecstatic even, that it was wrong. I should have known something was going to happen but I was caught up in a bubble o never thought would pop."

Nico swiped a hand over his face. This was where it started to get hard. "They came for us three days later. The three of us had been renting a small house together. Artie had been staying the night. We were asleep, unprepared and weapons put away. We never thought this would happen. They came for us. We fought back as hard as we could but they overwhelmed us. There were too many of them. They tied us uo and put bags over our heads. They made us walk to whole journey, pulling us on their horses. And when we collapsed, they dragged us." His breath was hitching now, voice cracking. "They didn't take the bag off until they threw us in a jail cell, if you can call it that. Stone walls, dirt floor, no windows, a poor excuse for a cot, a bucket, and a door. There wasn't any light unless they left a torch and they rarely did. I couldn't see, I couldn't breathe. All I could think about was what was happening to Braxton, to Cass, to Artie."