Prince Of Stone - A Captive Prince Fanfiction

VIII. To Get What You Want

Laurent awoke on the couch with a throbbing headache. His memories if the previous night were fuzzy--he could recall the party, a bitter taste on his tongue. Feeling as if he was drunk even though he had only had water.

And Damen. Damen bringing him home, and nothing else.

Oh, god. Laurent's stomach flipped. Had they--? But no, Damen was much too honourable for that.

Then again, came a voice at the back of his mind. His uncle had placed him directly in Laurent's path for a purpose.

He felt very suddenly nauseous.

"You had quite a night," Nicaise said, lounging against the doorframe and regarding Laurent with a smirk.

Laurent groaned. "You were--here last night?"

"Most of it. I was with our uncle for dinner." A pause. "I didn't want to be. You were supposed to come stop him."

Laurent, who had thought his stomach couldn't sink any lower, felt dangerously ill. "Nicaise. I should have been there, I shouldn't have let this happen--"

"Shut up already. I don't want to talk about it anymore. Take me to school." He demanded.

Laurent didn't know what else to do; he stood and stretched, reaching for a coat. He was still in last night's clothes, but if he didn't leave now, he would be late to his 8 am lecture.

Normally, he liked early classes. His mind was sharp then, easier to focus. But today the morning was too bright and too finely edged, like the glint of a broken pane of glass. It hurt to think.

He dropped Nicaise at school and had made it all the way to the university in the time it took him to come up with a plan.

Text Damen. Ask to meet, and find out what happened the previous night. Then do damage control.

It was the not knowing that terrified Laurent. Not knowing how far they'd gone, how much Laurent might have said, revealed.

Loss of control was not something Laurent le Roi was used to facing.

~

"Damianos Vasileus," the loudspeakers echoed. "Allez au bureau immédiatement, merci."

Damen looked up from copying down the PowerPoint slide on Alexander the Great's campaign in India. What could the office want with him?

To his right, Nikandros sucked in a breath. "Bad luck, man. What did you do this time?"

Nik wasn't in the class--didn't even have an interest in military history--but he had a spare period, and had decided to spend it flicking paper wads at Damen while he tried to take down notes.

"Not sure." Damen said by way of reply. "I'll catch you up after lunch?"

He slung his bag over his shoulder and set out for the office.

~

Laurent was tired. He had been standing on his feet before his uncle's desk--The Dean's desk--for what seemed like hours. He didn't know how his uncle had found out about the previous night's altercation, but he wouldn't put it past him to have an intricate system of informants even within seemingly insignificant college parties.

"Nephew." His uncle was saying. "I understand your reasoning, but the fact remains that you were drugged last night. Your testimony for Damianos is insufficient."

Laurent dug his nails into the knuckles of his opposing hand. He had to gain control, and he had to do it quickly. If he could--

The double doors to the office swung open.

Laurent looked up and locked eyes with Damianos. They gazed at each other, long and unbroken for the space of a moment. Then Laurent's uncle said, "Ah, Damianos. We were just discussing last night's events. Can you account for your whereabouts after you left the party with my drugged nephew in tow?"

Damianos' mouth fell open. He looked once to Laurent, then back to Laurent's uncle. "I don't--"

"Tell me, Damianos. Did you drug my nephew? Did you take advantage of him? Is there any reason whatsoever that would stop me from calling the school board in for an investigation?"

"Uncle," Laurent admonished. But even he heard how soft his voice sounded in the silence of the office. Suddenly, the dark shirt and darker blazer he was wearing didn't seem enough to shield him. He swallowed, once.

"Laurent. No one regrets this more than I. But you mustn't defend Damianos when he's committed such acts against you. Your safety," his uncle said, "Is my only concern."

"Nicaise," damianos said, suddenly. Laurent and his uncle turned to look at him, sharply.

"Nicaise," Damianos said again, slower this time. "I talked to him last night. He saw me dropping Laurent off at home."

There was a pause, into which Laurent spoke. "Very well, uncle. It seems Damianos has his alibi, and I have my virtue intact. We're finished here."

"Not," said his uncle, "quite. I'm sure you understand, nephew, there is a great deal on the line. Damianos could lose his scholarship, his position at this school. If I am to drop this case--and the school board would be most displeased if we were to close it based on your word alone--then I will need something in exchange."

Laurent raised his eyebrows, regarding his uncle with the cold mask of indifference he had cultivated especially for moments such as these.

His uncle continued. "No less than half of your father's holdings are to be transferred to me."

Laurent eyed him. Laurent said, "You are stripping me of my inheritance."

"Only what I am owed, for caring for you all these years. For raising you until you could look after yourself. Besides, such a large sum of money is too overwhelming for one so young and inexperienced as you. You would squander it on expensive coats and those fancy cats you like."

It had been Nicaise, and not Laurent, who had insisted on purchasing Sir Clarence. But Laurent decided against mentioning that. Instead he slid his gaze to Damianos, and said, "Let's go."

Damianos, to his surprise, followed unquestioningly as Laurent swept out of the double doors to the Dean's office.

Once outside, Laurent looked down. His hands were no longer shaking, but carved into his knuckles were deep crescents in the shape of his fingernails. He let out a breath and thought, to get what you want, you have to know exactly how much you're willing to give up.