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It was the coldest winter of all time in Melengar, they said. Snow had felt for days, at the point that the guards barely managed to keep Medford’s streets clear, and almost impossible to do the same thing in the surrounding lands.
King Amrath was forced to withdraw his invitation to the Wintertide’s celebration in Aquesta because travelling in such conditions was too dangerous. The substitute feast he planned at Essendon Castle foresaw to be small than usual too, because not every noble could be able to move from their estates. People who could preferred to stay indoors as the world became white.
Alric didn’t really mind. He loved a good party, but few people meant fewer occasions for his father to have him holding conversations, with ladies especially. The only guests that mattered were there already. And, as much as he hated the cold, he had Mauvin to warm him at night.
When Alric reached the living room of the Pickering’s wing, Lenare was sitting down near the window. With her light hair, her fair skin and her white dress, she almost looked like a snow statue, meddling with the view outside.
“Can I go?” Denek asked, moving his gaze from Alric to his sister, who nodded gravely.
With a grin, Denek abandoned his book and darted out of his armchair. He reserved a curious look for Alric before disappearing outside the room. Alric took his place in front of Lenare at the small round table.
“So, what is it?”
Even if he and Lenare had known each other since they were little, she had stopped playing with him and her brothers when she was eleven years old. Alric had with her the same confidence he had with his own sister, which was none at all. However, at least he knew how to deal with Arista. Lenare, with her composure and mannerism, was mostly unreadable, even if Mauvin and Fanen spoke of her with warmth. Alric had no idea why she wanted to speak with him in private.
Before answering, Lenare put away Denek’s book and pulled out a card deck to play Briscola. “It’s about Mauvin.”
Alric was looking at her shuffling the cards so intently that he almost didn’t hear it. “Mauvin?”
“You must put an end to it.” Lenare distributed the cards and placed the deck in the center. “To this thing you two do.”
If Alric had been more prepared, he could have denied everything. But her phrasing was so vague that his surprised face was undeniable. He knew what she meant, and she knew he understood it. He took a card and discarded another, as his frown deepened.
“It’s not your business.”
“Giving how much my brother fusses over my suitors, I should make it mine. But I don’t want to.” Her eyes didn’t leave the cards in her delicate fingers. “And yet, I need to step in.”
Fearing a threat behind those words, Alric pointed out, “We aren’t doing anything bad.”
“I’m sure that is what you think.”
“Because it’s true.”
Lenare ate a couple of the cards Alric had put down. “The root of my family’s loyalty went back to the origin of Melengar.”
“Yes.” Alric stopped with a card mid-air, surprised by the change of argument. “I am well informed of Cedric Pickelerinon’s tale. Mauvin doesn’t shut up about him.”
A bent of Lenare’s red lips lightened her features. “Those are the stories we were grown up with. And Mauvin especially, since he is the heir.”
He managed to eat a couple of her cards. “I don’t see what this has to do with Mauvin and me… having some fun.”
“I know you well enough to be certain you won’t hurt Mauvin willingly.”
“Why should I-”
“But you are his prince. He will walk in a fire if you need him to. I hope you realize it before you ask too much from him.” She dropped her last cards, not giving him the chance of a reply. “I won.”
Alric didn’t want to admit that his conversation with Lenare had bothered him. But it did, and not only because he lost the card game. Lenare might be Mauvin’s sister, but Alric was his best friend: he was sure there were things not even she knew better than him.
The insinuation that Mauvin slept with Alric out of obligation for his role was preposterous.
Not that Alric was displeased entirely by the idea. He loved that Mauvin called him ‘my king’, in and out of bed. He loved the feeling of having someone to protect his back, and someone who would be ready to cover for him without having to ask for it.
Yet, Alric was also displeased, because he was good-looking enough not to have to order people in his bed to have company. If Mauvin wasn’t willing, Alric could easily find someone else that was.
But he doubted it was the case.
Although Alric had never doubted Mauvin’s loyalty towards him, he also thought Mauvin was an ass most of the time. There were countless occasions in which Mauvin loved to mock Alric for something it happened and he took great pleasure in being the best during their activities. Alric remembered all the times he had to shut him and Fanen up by specifying that he would be king one day and they would be his subjects.
There was no way Mauvin bedded Alric only because Alric wanted it.
Or was there…?
The first day the snow stopped, Alric rushed for a ride, finally free from the castle’s walls and the constant surveillance of the guards. When he was with the Pickering brothers, he didn’t need an escort. They left Medford behind, heading towards the Gwlabyr bridge, strolling on Steward’s road.
“Of course your hands are stiff, that’s the point! To be prepared if we ever face a battle in this kind of weather.”
“I’m telling you, nobody fights if it’s so cold and snowy. Read any historical book.”
“Not everything is in books, Fanen. And the fact that it’s never happened doesn’t mean it won’t.”
Ahead of them, Alric listened distractedly to them arguing about Count Pickering’s decision to keep training them despite the low temperature. He was on Fanen’s side: training was hard enough in normal circumstances, and it took away time they could spend together – instead, Alric had to suffer through sword lessons too, because Count Pickering had insinuated Alric was not competent enough and that it was uncle Percy’s fault. So of course Alric couldn’t accept the accusation and asked his uncle to help him.
On top of that, Lenare’s insinuation was still on his mind, so he hadn’t reached for Mauvin’s room for the past nights. And he was frustrated to realize Mauvin hadn’t stepped towards him.
“I want to reach Edgar’s Pond.” His statement interrupted the discussion, because both brothers turned their heads at him. “I want to see how it is with all this snow.”
“The king said not to leave the main road,” Fanen pointed out.
“What my father doesn’t know can’t hurt him.” Alric grinned. “But if you’re too scared, you can wait for me.” He jerked the reins, so Bucefalo halted over him, then pressed his legs on its hips. He didn’t need to watch to know Mauvin had a huge smirk and was ready to follow him.
“I’m not coming!” Fanen announced, while Alric and Mauvin rushed out the road, in the vastness of white that covered all the free lands around Medford.
The run was short-coming. The snow was too fresh, not hard enough to sustain the horses’ weight. Their legs sank down, making their walk slow and dangerous. Alric felt Bucefalo slipping a little below him, probably because the was ice at the bottom.
Mauvin slowed down his horse. “I’m not even sure we could find the pond.” His head shuffled around. “Everything seems the same.”
“No. I want to see it.”
Alric snapped his gloved fingers, but he had to accept it was too risky to keep riding. With what he planned to be a fluid movement, he dismounted, but the cold had made the staff slippery. He lost his balance, ending up crashing his back on the ground. The soft snow softened the fall, but Alric found himself completely soaked with white, cold dust in every fiber.
He pressed his lips together as he heard Mauvin’s laughter above him. He ignored him, pretending his red face was for the cold, and with attention, he tried to stand up. Not an easy task, considering his legs kept sinking in the snow. He felt the snow melt on him, soaking his clothes and freezing him despite the wool fabric.
His hands were so stiff that even regaining Bucefalo’s reins became difficult. But Mauvin was there, a hand lifted towards him. Alric wasn’t beyond accepting help despite the previous mockery, and he appreciated the warm sensation of Mauvin’s gloved fingers around his wrist as he helped Alric to mount again.
“Here.”
At the first of Alric’s sneeze, while he tried not to shiver too much as he was completely soaked now, Mauvin took off his own wool coat and placed it around Alric’s shoulder to keep him warm.
After a hot bath, that Lady Belinda had ordered prepared in advance as she had expected something like that to happen, Alric finally started feeling warm again. Yet, as he stretched his leg, he thought he had no intention of moving away from the fire and from the cup of hot cocoa in his still-pained fingers. Lazily, he ate biscuits from a nearby tray.
“You should have invited me,” Denek complained, as he was freed from his schooling hours to join his eldest brothers in the living room of Alric’s private wing.
Fanen shook his head. “You are as tall as the snow. You would have sunk in it and drowned.”
“I’m a good swimmer!”
“But not a good rider, so you would have ended up like Alric, falling down like a potato sack.”
Alric lifted an unbothered gaze at Mauvin, who said that on purpose to annoy him. But more than Fanen and Denek’s snickers, his attention was lured by the fact that Mauvin had taken from the tray the last of his favorite biscuit, the chocolate one with coconut flakes.
“Give it to me.” Alric opened his palm.
Mauvin moved his gaze from him to the biscuit. “But you already ate it.”
“I like them. I want the last one too.”
“Fine.” Mauvin snorted, but moved to place it on Alric’s palm.
However, before Alric grabbed it, Mauvin retreated and stuffed the biscuit in his mouth, basically swallowing it whole. The three brothers laughed at Alric’s outrageous expression, the way he remained there with his empty palm still lifted and his mouth opened in surprise.
Boiling angrily, he sprung from his chair and trumped into his room. He ignored Mauvin’s call as he closed the door behind him. He still could hear their laughs, but he didn’t want to come out of his bedroom to kick them out.
“I can put two fingers in my throat and vomit it back!” Mauvin called.
“No, wait, there is another one! It wasn’t the last one!”
“Now it is!” Denek exclaimed, and by the sound he made, he was eating the biscuit and laughing at the same time.
Assholes, all of them. Lenare included, because she was a liar.
And yet, Mauvin was at the door of Alric’s bedroom later that night, long after dinner, with a proud expression and a small handkerchief full of chocolate coconut biscuit.
“I asked Ella to make some more.” He winked. “She couldn’t tell me no, even if it means consuming her last supper of coconut.”
Alric passed his gaze between the biscuits and the other’s face. Sure Mauvin considered it a great accomplishment because the harsh weather made the trade difficult and collecting ingredients from the South almost impossible.
Mauvin waited for Alric’s response, still smiling, as his eyes wandered from time to time inside the room, even if he didn’t make any step forwards.
“Thanks.” Alric grabbed the handkerchief with the biscuits and closed the door in his face.
Wintertide came and went.
The feast was simple, with the few suppers still managing to pass through the sea and the few nobles that dared gather in Medford. The cold weather increased to the point that his father decided to cancel his planning for Arista’s birthday, because even the Gwalibyn was freezing at that point.
Only the Pickerings would remain for a smaller dinner together, which meant other two weeks in Medford for them.
Even if the biscuits incident had been forgotten and forgiven, Alric hadn’t spent another night with Mauvin, letting other people keep him company when he felt like that. Mauvin hadn’t commented on it or on the closed door, which didn’t ease Alric’s twisting thoughts. Sometimes, he felt Lenare’s scrutinizing gaze on him and wanted to scream.
He needed it sorted out.
“Come to my bedroom tonight.”
And as he whispered that in Mauvin’s ear, he received a big smile in response, which eased his fear a little.
When Mauvin arrived, he didn’t knock at the studiolo’s door, nor at the living room’s door, heading directly for the bedroom. So he flinched when Alric greeted him in the dark of the living room, his body only slight lightened by a candelabra placed on the table next to him.
“Hello.”
The surprised expression turned into a grin, then Mauvin placed down his own candle as his gaze passed all over Alric’s body. “You should have warned me you wanted to sneak out, I would have come prepared.” He only wore loose pants under a blue wool nightdress.
“I don’t. Not with this cold.” Alric overlap his leg and settled better in his armchair: it wasn’t a throne, but close enough, and he sat there elegantly as a crown prince should. “I just want to try out my Wintertide present.”
His clothes were great, perfect for the big feast in Aquesta, white silk and white ermine fur with golden embroideries and laces, closing his neck and wrists in what, in the dim light, glittered as sunrays. Alric stretched his leg forwards, showing the delicate curve of his ankle, carved in the elegant white boot.
“How do I look?”
“Beautiful.”
This time, nothing but honesty in Mauvin’s tone, not mockery. A second later, he bent his knee.
“My King.”
Alric held his breath as Mauvin’s hand slid on his calf, sagging the boot’s fabric. He pushed it a little towards him, like he wanted to kiss it. Instead, he slowly put it out. His fingers brushed Alric’s bare ankle. With an elegant movement, Alric let him dispose of the other boot too.
The wooden floor was cold. Mauvin hurried to collect the slippers, abandoned near the other armchair so that Alric could stand up.
“Attend me,” Alric ordered.
Without a word, Mauvin began his work. He had undressed Alric many times before, but there was something more for Alric as he observed the other’s fingers untie the laces one after another. It wasn’t the urge of a lover, but the delicate movement of a servant. Alric ordered it and Mauvin obeyed.
He let Mauvin give just a brief look at his naked body before covering it with his nightshirt.
“That’s all.”
He had only stepped inside his bedroom when Mauvin grabbed him, one arm around the waist and the other placed on the door to keep it open.
“Teaser.” Lips were on Alric’s collarbone, tongue licking the neck until the nape.
“Don’t touch me.” Alric’s tone was low, but firm, despite his increasing desire. “Let me go.”
He had expected more resistance; instead, Mauvin released him immediately. Alric stumbled forwards, putting distance between the two. With his hand on the collar of his nightshirt, he turned to face Mauvin. The fire cast shadows on his sharp features, but he didn’t appear angry. More resigned.
“I’ll leave if that’s what you want,” he said. “But you’re skittish those days. Do you still want me or not?”
The question was so straightforward that Alric found himself answering honestly. “Do you indulge me out of obligation?”
“Obligation?” Mauvin blinked.
“It was brought to my attention that your loyalty towards the royal family may come in different aspects. Including please your prince.”
“Brought to your attention,” Mauvin repeated, slowly. “By whom?”
“Your sister.”
Mauvin huffed. It was a low sound, a mix of annoyance and incredulity, that fast became full laughter, one that brought tears to his eyes.
“And you believe her?” he managed to ask, his arms pressing his stomach.
“Not… really. But there are… situations. And I don’t need it. I-”
Alric didn’t end the sentence, because Mauvin was on him, lips against lips. He barely registered the nightshirt being torn off his shoulder, the slippers slipped from his feet as Mauvin pushed him down the mattress over the red blankets of the bed.
His attempts to wriggle away were futile, as Mauvin pinned his wrists together and towered upon him, knelled down at his side.
“Let me go,” Alric said, low.
“Nope.” Mauvin grinned. “You’re my prisoner now, and a pretty cute one too.” He tapped Alric’s nose with the index finger of his free hand, the one that slowly slipped onto Alric’s chest.
With an irritated groan, Alric kicked him, with the only result of helping Mauvin spread his legs better, the hand placed on his calf so that Alric was completely opened and constricted.
“Let me go!”
This time, Mauvin obeyed. He released his grips from wrists and leg, but he remained there, knelled on the mattress between Alric’s opened legs. When Alric barely lifted his head to glare at him, he noticed Mauvin didn’t seem angry or sad or even ashamed. There was a smug smile, like a ‘gotcha’ expression.
He said, “You love being in charge.”
Alric pressed his lips together. “I- Yes.”
Mauvin bent forwards, placing his hands at both sides of Alric’s head, his face so near Alric could feel his breath. “Then command me, my king.”
There was a pause, a moment for Alric to hold his breath, but nothing could be done now. He loved so much when Mauvin said that, and after all, he gave him plenty of time to step back, didn’t he?
“Kiss me. Slowly. A hand on my hair.”
There was another amused grin, before Mauvin lowered his head, his lips on Alric, his fingers brushing upon Alric’s long hair slowly, giving Alric plenty of time to correct his moves if he’d like.
“Lick my neck, no, a little down, yes, just like that… Don’t move the hand please…”
It was overwhelming how his requests were obeyed for his own pleasure, and how Mauvin’s touches and kisses matched his desire entirely. The voice escaped Alric’s when he was about to come, it was hard to find words, yet Mauvin was an ass enough to stop touching him until Alric wasn’t calm enough to order him again, to be penetrated with two fingers before giving Mauvin the permission to suck him until he orgasmed.
“Just fuck me,” he exhaled, painting, his chest covered with his sperm.
“About time!” Mauvin laughed, annoyance fake in his tone.
Alric hadn’t noticed how hard he was, the erection pressed against his pants. For a second, Alric thought of stopping him, of having him undressed entirely, but both of them waited enough.
Besides, he was going to be a merciful king.
No more orders for Mauvin. Alric closed his eyes and enjoyed the pleasant feeling of the thrusts, the low moaning, the pressure of Mauvin’s hands on his hips.
There was no way Mauvin didn’t want this.
Didn’t want him.
“The fire…” Alric exhaled once Mauvin was finished, and the warmth of pleasure was slowly replaced by the cold of the bedroom now that the fire wasn’t taken care of. “Put some wood there.”
Mauvin chuckled and coughed, still caught in his own orgasm, the face pressed against Alric’s chest with his hair tickling him. “You’re so bossy.”
But he stood up and did what he had been asked, throwing some wood on the fire, which immediately brightened and warmed, before taking back the candelabra and the lamp, that was placed on the night table. In the meantime, Alric had covered himself with the sheets. Mauvin joined him, surrounding him with his arms and placing his head in the curve of Alric’s neck.
“You’re stupid.”
“That’s not the way to address your king.”
“It is when you deserve it.” Then, when Alric remained silent, he added, “I already know you like being in charge. If that’s what pleases you, I’m fine with it. But I don’t do this,” and he kissed his neck, “out of obligation.”
Alric snuggled nearer, still not looking at him. “But you’d like to do something different, maybe.” His mind wandered back to how Mauvin had pinned him down easily on the mattress, and he shivered. “Like… you know… kidnapping me or something so I would have to do what you ask for…”
“Not really.” Mauvin hummed, his lips still on Alric’s skin. “But I won’t mind saving you if you are kidnapped.”
“Oh, you sure like playing hero, don’t you?”
“Well, let’s say a group of highwaymen catch you on the field and bring you to their lair. I will follow their trace and storm inside, my sword ready. Then I will kill all of them.”
“How many?”
“Let’s say… ten.”
“You’re going to kill ten men all by yourself?”
“You’re right. Ten are too few. Twenty.”
Alric emitted a strangled sound, that should have been a laugh, but he was too amused to do it properly. Mauvin ignored him as he continued, “and then I’ll free you and you’ll be like ‘thank you so much, I don’t know what I would have done without you! How can I reward you! I’ll do everything for you’.” The last part was said in a high-pitched voice that didn’t sound like Alric’s at all.
“You’re so full of shit.” At that point, Alric’s stomach hurt from laughing. “You read too many of Denek’s children’s books.”
“I don’t remember Denek’s books end with the princess in distress stripping her dress and kneeling down to suck off her hero,” Mauvin commented, in a so serious tone that made Alric laugh again.
“You’re assuming I’ll be so stupid to be kidnapped first.” Alric rolled, so they were face to face now, their naked bodies pressed together. He caressed Mauvin’s neck with his index finger. “But if you really fight twelve men for me and win, I may indulge your request. But I step out by this promise if they’re nineteen.”
“Feathers, you’re so demanding.” But Mauvin was grinning, and then he was kissing him again.
Arista’s birthday came and went. It was a sad, pathetic little thing, no different from any dinner they had together but from the presence of a birthday cake and presents. However, it was the perfect excuse for Alric to spend the remaining time with Mauvin and make up for his lost time because of Lenare’s attics. He felt in such a good mood that he indulged more than one smile in his sister’s direction.
But then, it was time to say goodbye. He would see the Pickerings again for his own birthday, in March, and of course, that one would be ten times better, with no snow and the first, warm rays of spring.
On the day of the Pickerings’ departure, Alric found Mauvin playing a game of Briscola in his family’s living room, with no one else than Lenare. None of the two did much than a look from the corner of their eyes at his entrance, but Mauvin called for him to come near with a small gesture of his hand.
To make a point, Alric slid both hands down Mauvin’s chest, hugging him from behind, and looked Lenare straight in the eyes. She raised an eyebrow, indifferent and unsurprised, before returning her attention to the cards. She was clearly winning.
With an annoyed sigh, Mauvin threw his remaining cards on the table. His fingers brushed the back of Alric’s left hand. “My luck lies elsewhere.”
Lenare collected back the cards to shuffle them. “If you call it luck.”
“Very few people would consider a prince’s friendship unluckily,” Alric pointed out.
“Friendship,” Lenare repeated toneless.
Mauvin became rigid under Alric’s arms. “You’ll stay out of it this time, sister.”
She was totally unashamed and unimpressed as she looked straight at him. “And you’ll stay out of it when Lord Inger’s son comes this summer for a marriage proposal?”
“Lord Inger? Come on! The man can’t hold his own cock to take a piss, let aside a sword.”
“Don’t be so vulgar.” Lenare bit his lips to restrain a smile, while Alric snickered openly. “But yes, you’re right.”
“Of course I am. It’s not my fault no one deserves you.”
“And it’s not my fault I can see your future more clearly than you.” She stood up after placing the cards back in their wooden custody. “But don’t worry, I’ll be more than pleased to rub it at you when he,” her chin lifted barely towards Alric, “breaks your heart.”
“I won’t,” Alric stated, but Lenare turned her back and strolled outside the room with grace and elegance, without looking back. “I won’t,” he repeated, this time addressing Mauvin.
He took a while to answer back. “Of course not.” But there was some distant look in Mauvin’s eyes that Alric couldn’t figure out. It lasted a long minute, before Mauvin took one of Alric’s hand and kissed it, his eyes bright again.
Yet, there was a small unease on Alric’s part, which he again blamed Lenare for. He’d feared he was hurting Mauvin by forcing him into a situation in which he didn’t want any part, but Mauvin had long cleared it wasn’t the case. So, what was Lenare fearing?
“I would never. You know. You’re my best friend.”
Mauvin kissed his hand again. “I know.” A little smile. “She’s trying to get at you again. Stop worrying. Nothing you ask me will break my heart, because I’ll do it willing.”
Alric moved aside from him and sat back in the chair Lenare had left. “And I would never ask you something you won’t be ready to do, I promise.”
And in the same moment he pronounced those words, he knew it was a lie. There was one thing, just that only thing, that he would order sooner or later. Probably later. His father was young, so Alric guessed many years as a prince were yet to come. But the moment would come. Alric could only hope that, for that moment, they would be ready.
“I promise,” he repeated, to which Mauvin only nodded.
Alric wondered if Mauvin realized the lie. And if he realized that his wouldn’t be the only heart to break.
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