for Dorian (makingmyway) - Prince Dorian /Palace Guard Orym AU

[bigmoonlittlemoon]

[Orym spends too much time watching the prince. In fairness, it is his job to do exactly that, but it's gone so far beyond just the act of guarding a young noble. Of course it has.

When he'd first been assigned to this position -- the personal guard to Prince Brontë, a promotion really, after he'd managed to be in the right place at the right time to thwart an unexpected assassination attempt against the King and Queen -- he hadn't known much about the younger Prince Wyvernwind, save what he could tell from afar -- that he was beautiful, fair-faced and strong-shouldered, that he always managed to look the part of dutiful and perfect prince.

As he got to know him though, he'd seen more. So much more.

The prince is genuinely kind, not only for show in public. He's gentle and soft spoken, surprisingly down to earth for a young royal who's been sheltered in his kingdom all his life. He's funny too, clever and quick-witted once opened up. It took some time, really, but they've both let their guards down around each other. Orym has to remind himself again and again that he's nothing more than bodyguard, here to keep the Prince safe. Not to keep him company.

But oh he likes his company, has come to look forward to hearing that musical laugh, come to treasure when he's managed to convince Brontë to play or sing for him. There's a warmth in his chest when the Prince confides in him, when he's given glimpses into those surprising insecurities, his hopes and dreams.

It's several months into spending day after day with the Prince that he realizes he's fallen for him. It's foolish. It's utterly foolish and it can never be anything. So he wraps those feelings away and pushes them down as deep as he can.

Today they're in the palace courtyards. The sun shines bright from a sky that is a perfect shade of blue interrupted only by a few white clouds. Orym is rolling his wrist to let his sword dip and then rise, the familiar heft and weight of the blade comfortable in his hand.]

You know, you're good with a blade. I've seen it. But I could probably teach you a few tricks, if you'd be interested.

Comments

[makingmyway]

[ For as well as things had been going, Brontë should have known that it was too good to be true.

While he had really enjoyed his relationship with Orym, being happier being in love with his guard than he had ever been, there was always the fear of them getting caught, and the trouble they would get into if they were. And despite being as careful as they could be, in the end it had all been for nothing, and somehow they ended up being found out anyway.

Even worse, apparently their plans of eventually escaping the castle to start a new life together had been discovered - maps with routes and notes found in Orym's room that they had done their best to keep hidden - had also been discovered, and there had been plenty of information there to twist around in order to seem like Orym was planning to abduct him, which was more than enough of a reason for his parents to have Orym arrested with plans to execute him.

Even after Brontë confronted his parents after Orym was taken to the prison cells, admitting that he was in love with his guard and insisting that it had been his idea to run away, his parents refused to listen. It was only hours later, after begging and pleading and negotiating with his father under a Zone of Truth spell, was he able to get Zeru to agree to spare Orym's life.

It was also the most difficult thing he had ever done, and nearly tore him apart. But he could do it, if it meant Orym would be able to life.

Now, late in the evening and accompanied with two guards, Brontë headed down towards the dungeons to see Orym. His father had agreed to let him say goodbye to the halfling before he was reassigned to the outskirts of the kingdom, as far away as they could send him.

And Brontë also knows that he has to break the news to Orym - that, as well as everything else. But he would rather Orym heard it from him than anyone else. ]

[bigmoonlittlemoon]

[Orym knows he should have seen it coming. He should have done more, been more careful, but hindsight is always so much clearer. He is stoic as Brontë's parents have him taken in chains, sentence him to execution for plotting to abduct the prince. He stays quiet. Let them believe that they want. He doesn't want to say anything to make this worse for Brontë. He wants the man he loves to be okay.

Still, he sees the ache in Brontë's eyes as he's taken away, and desperately wishes he could go to him.

So it's a surprise when in his cell he hears the approaching footsteps, rising to his feet to meet whoever it might be. His eyes widen at the sight of Brontë. Escorted by guards.]

Brontë... ah. My lord. [He bows his head.]

[makingmyway]

[ Brontë doesn't say anything for a moment, though he can't mask the pain as he sees Orym, still chained inside the cell. Then he clears his throat before turning to the guards. ]

Could we... have a few minutes alone?

[ The guards hesitate, exchanging a glance between one another. Then one speaks up, appearing a bit uncomfortable. ]

Your highness, we're not -

There's nowhere for us to go. [ Brontë's tone is sharp for a moment, but it quickly gives way to desperation as he adds a soft ] Please.

[ The guards look at each other once again, before the second guard - an older one - taps the other on the shoulder. ]

All right. We'll be right outside. But try not to delay, your highness. We have our orders.

[ Brontë doesn't say anything, and waits until the two guards leave. Only once the two of them are finally alone does his demeanor crumble, as he opens the door to the cell and rushes to the halfling. ]

Oh, Orym... [ Kneeling down, he pulls Orym into his arms and embraces him tightly. ] I'm so sorry.

[bigmoonlittlemoon]

[Orym falls silent as Brontë confers with the guards, hoping that they might be given just this moment of mercy. It's more than he's hoped for, and when the men leave, something in his shoulders relaxes, just slightly.

And then Brontë's arms are around him, and he's melting into that embrace.]

I've missed you.

[Soft and sincere, but he draws back enough to look at him.] Are you all right?

[makingmyway]

I've missed you too.

[ As Orym settles back and asks that question, Brontë can't help a soft, teary laugh. ]

Really? You were arrested and going to be executed, and you're asking how I am?

[ This ridiculous man, he loves him too much. ]

[bigmoonlittlemoon]

Of course I am. I've been worried about you.

[What Brontë must be going through. He knew that his parents must be furious, at a minimum. But the fact that the prince is here, well, that means something has certainly happened, and Orym doesn't think it can be good.]

I didn't think I'd get to see you again.

[makingmyway]

[ With a fondly exasperated laugh, Brontë shakes his head as he starts to unlock the chains binding Orym's hands. ]

I've been really worried about you.

[ Once the chains are undone, he tosses them aside to take Orym's hands in his, gently running his thumbs across Orym's knuckles. ]

I didn't either. But my father gave us enough time to... say goodbye.

[bigmoonlittlemoon]

I'm fine. I knew the risks, and you were worth every one of them.

[So there'd be no remorse for his crimes anyway, of stealing the prince's heart.

As Brontë goes about unlocking the chains though, he can't help a confused look. That's unexpected. There's no way he's just being released. And when the other man speaks, he feels his heart drop like a leaden weight.

What did he mean goodbye?]

Brontë... what did you do?

[makingmyway]

[ Brontë flinches a bit, and purposely avoids meeting Orym's eyes. ]

You... You're being reassigned. They're sending you to a town on the outskirts that needs protecting. We... We won't be allowed to see one another.

[ And very purposefully avoids answering Orym's question. ]

[bigmoonlittlemoon]

[He can see the way that Brontë won't meet his gaze, knows his prince enough to understand there's something important he's not saying.]

I...

[How had it come to this?]

What did it cost you?

[makingmyway]

[ Brontë bites his bottom lip, sitting back just a bit as he seems to shrink into himself more. ]

I-In... exchange for sparing your life... I agreed to let my father choose someone for me to marry.

[bigmoonlittlemoon]

No.

[Orym shakes his head, hands tightening around Brontë's. His voice is vehement, a quiet desperation in it.]

That... it isn't worth it. I'm not worth it. You deserve the chance to be free, not trapped in a marriage to appease your father.

[makingmyway]

[ Brontë shakes his head, his hands trembling in Orym's. ] I'm sorry, Orym, but I-I couldn't just... I couldn't just let them kill you. Without you... life wouldn't mean anything.

[ Finally lifting his gaze, he manages a smile, even as his eyes fill with tears. ] I'll be okay. I promise I will. As long as I know you're still out there, alive, I'll be fine.

[bigmoonlittlemoon]

Brontë...

[He doesn't want this. He feels tears rising in his own eyes, but he steps forward to wind his arms around Brontë. His Brontë. Except, he never really was, was he? That was a pleasant dream, a fairytale.]

I don't want to say goodbye.

[makingmyway]

[ A soft sob hitches Brontë's breath, and he holds Orym tight to his chest. ]

I-I don't either. But this was the only thing I could do.

[ Even knowing that being together could put Orym in danger, he had been selfish anyway. It was his fault that Orym could have been executed, so if he could do something to save him, then he would.

Sniffling a little, he pulls back just a bit, wiping away the tears that finally managed to fall. ] I... I-I have something for you.

[bigmoonlittlemoon]

[The only thing he could do. Orym hates this, hates everything about it. As he draws back, he looks up to Brontë with tears escaping his own eyes.

He can't find his voice, doesn't trust it not to break.]

What is it?

[makingmyway]

[ Swallowing thickly, he reaches into his pocket to retrieve something that he holds hidden in his hand for a moment. ]

I-I... was hoping to give this to you when we left to start our new life together, but...

[ But things didn't always work out the way they wanted to. Sniffling again, he takes Orym's hand and slips a silver ring - emerald-green vines and sapphire-blue flower petals that almost seemed to shimmer, etched all along the band - onto his finger. ]

There's... also an engraving on the inside.

[ Auran words that means: To the flower of my heart. ]

[bigmoonlittlemoon]

Brontë...

[The life they were supposed to be living together, over before it even had a chance to begin. Now the tears are falling freely down his cheeks as he looks at the ring, then back up to the other man.

He flings himself at him now, arms wrapped around him like he never intends on letting go. He doesn't want to let go.]

I love you. I love you so much.

[makingmyway]

[ With another sob, Brontë holds onto Orym desperately, knowing this would be the last time they would ever do this. ]

I love you too, so much. No matter who my father chooses for me, I will still always love you. My heart will never change.

[ Then he pulls back, just a bit to cup Orym's cheek in his palm, tilting Orym's face enough to capture his lips in a kiss to convey every bit of that love that he can. ]

[bigmoonlittlemoon]

[He doesn't want this to be the end, doesn't want it to be the last time he's in Brontë's arms. He clings to him, trying to memorize everything about the moment, to take in the feeling of him and the scent of him, the way it feels to be held.]

You will always have my heart. It's yours. It will always be yours, no matter where I am. Until my last breath.

[He lifts his chin to meet that kiss, a desperation in it, as if he can't bear the thought of it ending.]

[makingmyway]

[ He shivers a little as Orym returns the kiss, feeling that urgency in return, and he holds the kiss for as long as he can, until it hurts too much and he finally draws back, resting his forehead against Orym's. ]

Thank you... Thank you for everything. This time we spent together has meant so much to me. My only regret is that you were nearly killed for it.

[bigmoonlittlemoon]

I don't regret anything. You are worth any price, I...

[He would die for him. He'd give anything to stay by his side, but this is goodbye. He reaches a hand up to touch along Brontë's cheek, the light catching on the ring on his finger. He'll wear it forever. And later when he reads the inscription, he'll weep again.]

I will always love you.

[makingmyway]

[ Closing his eyes, he leans into Orym's touch, releasing a shuddering breath. ]

I will always love you too. [ Resting his hand over Orym's he presses it to his cheek as he opens his eyes again, once again filled with tears. ] But promise me you'll take care? The only way I'll be able to get through this is knowing you're out there, alive and well.

I know it's selfish of me to ask... but you'll live for me, won't you?

[bigmoonlittlemoon]

[Orym doesn't trust his voice not to break. Everything feels like it is crashing down around him. How is he supposed to live without his heart, he wonders? But Brontë has asked this of him, and the halfling can't imagine denying the man he loves anything.

So he nods. He'll do his best. Even if he can't imagine life without him.

He moves tow rap his arms around Brontë once more, holding tightly.]

[makingmyway]

[ Brontë breathes out a shaky breath, holding Orym in a tight embrace again. ]

Thank you…

[ It won’t be easy, living without the man he loves, the one who holds his heart. But knowing Orym was still alive would be enough to get him through.

After another moment, he places his hands on Orym’s shoulders and draws back, pressing a kiss to the halfling’s forehead. ]

We don’t have too much time left. Once we leave here, one of the guards is going to bring you back to your room to gather your things, and then to a carriage that will take you to the next town over. From there you’ll meet some other soldiers who will travel with you to the town you’re reassigned to.

[ It seems the king was in quite the hurry to send Orym as far away as possible. ]