Prince Of Stone - A Captive Prince Fanfiction

XVIII. A Kingdom or This

Many months later

The day of their graduation, Laurent drew Damen to one side as they were getting ready to leave the apartment. Their apartment.

It had taken time. Time for the investigators to rule The Regent’s death as accidental, for Laurent to be let off of the court case and for his inheritance to be officially given back to him. For Nicaise’s split lip to heal, and for the start of the sort of healing that never really finished.

But now Damen smiled down at Laurent, standing before him, golden hair brushed back from his face and just as striking as the day Damen had first seen him in that metro car.

He wouldn't give this up. Not for all the kingdoms in the world.

“I’ve been thinking,” said Laurent, “about how I want to repay you.”

“Repay me?” Damen said, surprised. “I haven’t--”

Laurent seized the collar of Damen’s graduation gown, pulling him close and shutting him up with a brush of his lips. “You have,” he murmured against Damen’s mouth. Damen let out a sound low in his throat and moved towards him, closing the distance between their bodies, but Laurent backed away with a soft chuckle. “Not this moment. We’ve a graduation to attend. But first …”

Damen watched as Laurent drew a gold cuff from the pocket of his gown. “I got you this as a gift. A … thank-you. I thought … maybe you’d wear it.”

Damen tried to remember if he had ever seen Laurent look like this, his expression so open, eyes gently hopeful. A faint flush rose to Laurent's cheeks beneath Damen's gaze.

“Laurent, of course I'll wear it.” He didn’t say thank you. There was too much between them, too many debts paid and repayed that at some point both of them had stopped counting.

“What’s taking so long? Damen, if you’re knitting scarves again, so help me--” Came Nikandros’ booming voice from the next room over, and a moment later he appeared in the doorway to the alcove Laurent had pulled Damen into. “We’re going to be late,” he said, eyeing Laurent warily. Nik still didn’t trust Damen’s taste in partners, and thought Laurent was about as sweet as a venomous serpent.

He wasn’t half wrong, Damen thought fondly. Some snakes you couldn't help but love.

~

The campus was flooded with graduates and families as Laurent, Damen, Nikandros and Nicaise wound their way through the hallways and into the courtyard.

“Laurent,” said a voice from behind them. “Who is your friend?”

They wheeled to find themselves standing before a man dressed in a vibrant array of colour, with an impressive moustache.

“Damen,” said Laurent, “Meet Charls, my law professor. He’s the one who helped me through the end of the court case against my uncle.”

“Lamen,” said Charls, obviously having misheard Laurent. He had switched to speaking in English, his words still laden with a heavy French accent. “How excellent to meet you! Laurent is a most wonderful student, he really--”

Nikandros let out a groan and clapped Damen on the shoulder. “If Charls is about to sing Laurent’s praises, I’m gonna need a few drinks to get through this graduation ceremony.” He headed in the direction of the refreshment stand and didn’t look back.

Charls wandered off as another professor summoned him. Then there came a voice from behind them. It was uncomfortably familiar, and Damen found himself surprised he hadn't been expecting it.

“Hello, little brother.”

It was Auguste.

Nearly as tall as Damen, golden hair glinting in the sun, he was unmistakable. Even after the time that had passed since Damen had cheated to win the wrestling match against him, he judged that if his arm wasn’t in a sling, Auguste would be more than his match in strength.

Laurent regarded him steadily, the hand that was clasping Damen’s holding almost uncomfortably tight.

Damen saw the moment Laurent's composure crumpled, and he gave in to the joy that broke across his face like the dawning of a new day.

“Auguste,” he said, stepping forward and into his brother's embrace. “I've missed you,” he admitted, voice low enough that only Auguste and Damen could hear.

Drawing back, Auguste said, “I'm sorry. I'm so sorry I wasn't there, that I didn't know about our uncle, what he was like--”

“Stop,” Laurent ordered, voice growing cold again as his regal facade fell back into place like a mask. “I do not want to speak of it. Today is for celebration. We both of us made mistakes.”

“Speaking of which--” Damen stepped forward. “Auguste. I'm not sure if you remember--”

Auguste regarded him, eyes blue as Laurent's but with a different quality to the shade of blue, a sort of warmth that Damen only saw on occasion in Laurent's gaze. With Laurent, he knew, warmth was earned.

“Marlas,” Auguste said after a time. “The wrestling match. I remember you, Damianos. So you're the one my little brother's fallen for.”

Damen offered a half-smile, hoping Auguste would not find him an inappropriate match for Laurent.

“You seem a good man,” Auguste decided after a moment. “And I consider myself a reasonable judge of character.”

“You've only been wrong once,” Laurent murmured. “With our uncle.”

Damen looked at him, but was spared having to speak by Nikandros’ reappearance. He held a veritable grove of beer cans, but upon setting eyes on Auguste, they all slipped from Nikandros’ grip, hissing and frothing as they crashed to the ground.

“You must be the older de Vere brother,” Nikandros said, obvious appreciation in the look he raked over Auguste's form.

Damen rolled his eyes, clapping Nik on the shoulder.

To Laurent, he said, “fancy a walk?”

“I can think of nothing better, mon cœr,” Laurent said, using the term of endearment he reserved only for Damen.

Mon coeur--my heart.

~

Wandering through the gardens that lined the campus green, Laurent at his side as the sun beat down on the two of them still arrayed in their royal blue caps and gowns, Damen thought he had never been so happy.

They stopped beneath an apple blossom tree, and Laurent reached up to pluck a bloom from the branch. He offered it, with shy affection, to Damen. What they had was still new, even after all their adventures, but Damen had loved watching it grow each day. Seeing Laurent grow more comfortable with expressing emotion, with physical proximity, with forming relationships outside of those necessary for survival.

Damen accepted the blossom, tucking a second flower behind Laurent's hair. It had grown to brush his shoulders, all the severity of him--the rigid lines of perfection that he had demanded of himself--giving way to softness and new growth.

Damen smiled, and Laurent smiled back, and he knew with a burst of warmth that he would give anything for this. For the prince of stone whose heart Damen had been given, and who held Damen's own heart with tenderness.

For Laurent, he would surrender all the kingdoms in the world.