The Heroes Bride (6/?)
Title: The Heroes Bride (6/?)
Characters/Pairings: Overall, Peter, Claude, Bennet, Adam, Mohinder, Sylar; In this chapter Peter, Adam, Elle, and more!. Oh, I'm excited.
Summary: My version of The Princess Bride, with assorted Heroes characters, centering on Plaude. In this chapter, some Peter/Adam and Peter/Elle bonding. And the appearance of, um, five other Heroes characters. And a return to the Princess Bride storyline. And a history lesson! Woo!
Rating: Overall, won't get beyond R, probably not PG-13 even. PG in this part.
Warnings: Uh. PG level violence? At the very end? Yeah, that's about it.
Spoilers: Pretty much nothing for the show, and lots for the movie.
A/N: Finally, something more exciting and surprisingly long. Uh. The chapter, I mean. *cough*
Disclaimer: I own nothing related to Heroes or The Princess Bride, and, in fact, owe the creators of both my eternal gratitude.
Special thanks to c_quinn, as always.
Previous Chapters
How’re you doing?
Fine.
Not worried?
Well…
Well?
Well, a little worried that you think I’m an idiot, so…
I don’t think you’re an idiot-
You’re, like, one third of the way in. There’s no way a main character’s been killed off that quickly.
Fine, just don’t say I didn’t warn you.
“The Bishop Dynasty was begun in a time of strife, after the Battle of Kirby Valley, during which the last of the Linderman kings was unceremoniously killed by a rock aimed at a stray cat, leading to the succession of his second in command, the Bishop of Hartsdale.
As a man of the church, he was initially considered to be only an interim ruler, but he was quick to renounce his religious role and take up the crown, ‘For the greater good of the people,’ and, it has been recorded, considered the position an ‘utter nuisance’.
Of course, it was a time of great nuisance throughout the land; our Neighbors to the East, sensing the momentary, and certainly understandable, instability brought about by a relatively smooth transition to power, took it open themselves to, as would be commonly stated, ‘kick [us] in the [borders] while [we were] down,’ as was traditional for a nation as dishonorable as itself.
Due to some quick thinking and crack negotiating by the great antecedents of our current, illustrious monarchs, the Easterners were quickly encouraged to forgo their attacks on our kingdom, at least until we were better prepared to defend ourselves and make a proper war of it.
In the succeeding years, under the reign of several lesser kings, the military buildup of our nation was deemed a matter of significant importance, and, as a result, a large, well equipped, and impeccably trained but sadly under-used army came into existence, before it was realized that such a substantial asset to our kingdom was best if actually put to use.
The eventual conquest of most surrounding territories and outlying islands brought great wealth and eventual stability to the kingdom, especially after the discovery of gold on Angel Island during the rule of King Robert IV.
However, this peaceful state of affairs was not without its complications: the king’s young and impressionable son, sent East to help foster good relations with a treacherous nation, returned a much different man from the carefree and rollicking youth he had been when he left.
It is believed, and quite clearly substantiated by his subsequent actions, that he had been influenced by radical ideals while abroad, and his decision to take it upon himself to form his so-called ‘Company of Concerned Citizens’, a treasonous cabal all the more threatening for its alliteration…”
“Peter?”
The young man looked up, startled, and slammed the book in front of him shut with all the blushing embarrassment of a teenager caught skimming materials of the more crude nature, at tired blue eyes and a lazier than usual smirk.
“Sorry, I was…was just reading a…book,” he stammered, trying to flip it over without attracting much attention to the cover.
“Terrible habit, that. My father should have it banned,” Adam smiled, a little brighter, as he settled in the chair in front of him, and, graceful as a cat aware it is within its rights to devour a canary, pulled the book across the table. “Ah, history. Even worse a habit, I should think.”
“I was curious,” he shrugged, as casually elegant fingers flipped through yellowed paper. “About-“
“Me?” Adam glanced up, amused. “Anything else you want to know? Favorite color? Thoughts on-”
“What happened when you went East?”
“Pardon?”
“It…I’ve read…it’s like you were…” normal, he was too polite to say, “…one way, and then you went, and when you came back it was to, you know-“
“Take over the world?” Adam laughed, and shut the book, brisk and easy.
“Change the world,” Peter said, diplomatic and kind as he could manage.
“It was love, if you can believe it,” and Adam shook his head, and his normal smirk returned, “Well, of course you’d believe it. But yes, I fell in love.”
Peter tilted his head in surprise, a flicker of sympathy turning his normal, instinctual respect for the prince into kindness.
“What happened?”
“Oh, I was betrayed, obviously. Not all of us find love as true as it is beautiful at every turn, Peter,” Adam shrugged, as if discussing a particularly bothersome week of rainstorms, “It was for the best, of course. I realized I’m better suited for things other than poorly worded poetry and declarations of undying devotion. Is that all?”
“Yeah, that’s,” and he looked into a surprisingly open expression, “Actually, if you…have some time, I was wondering-“
“He was my guard,” the prince sighed, leaning back in the honey-colored wooden chair, stretching long limbs tiredly, blue eyes blinking sleepily, “For about four years, before the…before I left, and he was part of my entourage in the East. I hated him, I must say; so sharp with me about everything, as though I was personally at fault that the world was not as he wished, and perhaps I was. And then I proposed a plan to remedy that, and he…he was the first to go along with it. He was the first I trusted.”
Peter smiled, warmed at the thought.
***
“It’s a prison, you know,” she said, without an uneasily bright grin and accompanying giggle. “For all of us.”
Peter shrugged, shocked a the sudden quietness in her tone, the fact that she’d made no attempt to touch him, but was rather stroking the mane of a spectacularly massive grey mare.
“You have a horse, right?” she asked, a hint of normal disquieting brightness back in her voice, but one that quickly faded.
“Yeah, uh, Horse,” he gestured at the snoozing gelding down the aisle.
“You named your horse…Horse?” she smiled, a sort of genuine amusement that was, in many of the girls he’d grown up around, gleaned from mocking someone else but there was a kind softness to it that Peter found strangely touching.
“I’m not that good with animals,” he answered, by way of explanation.
“You’ll get better,” she said, her brother’s easy confidence turned anxious in her voice, as she moved quickly and fluidly to saddle the grey, who watched her with a kind of patience, and, if he wasn’t mistaken, trust, that Peter couldn’t help find surprising.
“Hey, Peter?” she called out, from the far side of the animal, and he had to move to see her, pulling at leather straps with a kind of brutal finality. “I mean it. About the prison.”
“It can’t be that bad-“
“We’re stuck here. Me and my brother. He loves it, you know? As long as he can…can lock himself up in his library and make plans and command forces from hundreds of miles away, he’s happy but…I’ve lived here all my life, Petey,” her voice had returned to its breathy, coy register, and she attempted to slink towards him in boots designed more for riding than slinking, “This is all I’ve got.”
And she took the opportunity to rack sharp nails across his chest with a degree of strength she probably hadn’t anticipated before he had the sense to move away.
“Thanks for listening, Pete,” she laughed and reached out to pat his cheek, before turning back to the whickering grey. “We should do this again sometime.”
***
“The point, my dear Count, is not for the wall to actually function; it is to give the people building it something to do, and the people seeing it the comfort of-“
“Your High- Adam? You sent for me?”
“Oh, Peter,” Adam looked up, from a large and intricately drawn map. The pale, dark-haired man beside him looked up as well, brown eyes full of a surprising intensity. Coupled with a vaguely disturbing smile, that was enough to make Peter take a step back as both men returned their gaze to the roll of parchment spread across Adam’s desk. “Give me a moment.”
A moment passed, of the prince rolling up the map, smiling politely at the grey-clothed individual beside him and waving him off, then coming around the side of his desk.
“We,” he clapped his hands together, and Peter noticed, for the first time how the darker-than-usual circles under his eyes were, “Need to go and celebrate.”
“What are we celebrating?”
“My father,” and there was a spark in Adam’s eyes that made him look like a much younger man, “Is stepping aside, and retiring to Patagonia. To live out the rest of his life as, and he would know, a king. Which means…”
“You’re going to-“
“Indeed.”
“Adam! Congratulations!” In a moment of new friendship, newer compassion, and long-dormant enthusiasm, Peter decided that it was entirely appropriate to throw his arms around Adam in an exuberant embrace.
“Ah. Well. Thank you.”
It took him a second to realize that the hug had taken Adam off guard, and to remember that the young man absolutely hated surprises. As a result, he pulled away quickly, and watched Adam’s lips quirk into a small smile.
“We’ll…save that for once we’re drunk, all right?”
“Whatever you want, man, it’s your day,” he chuckled, knowing that even when drunk the prince was not likely to turn sentimental.
Adam’s smile broadened, and he clasped Peter’s shoulders familiarly.
“Wonderful,” he grinned, “Because I was about to ask you for a favor.”
“Anything, Adam.”
“You are somewhat fond of my sister, right?”
“For the most part,” he hedged.
“You meet with her on occasion, though?”
“Of course.” She had made sure of it; dance partner, confidante, trail mate, he had become a receptacle for all her latent social urges.
“Capital. I need you to marry her.”
Peter blinked, unsure of his sanity at the moment, or at the very least of his auditory fitness.
“Excuse me?”
“Forgive me,” Adam shook his head, his normal gesture of not-quite embarrassment, but at least admission that his conduct was not precisely appropriate, “I realize that this is not the traditional method for proposing a marriage, or in anyway a proper negotiation, but-“
“It’s fine but…Adam, you know I…”
“Will never love again, yes, and I commend you for your certainty, Peter but…there are other matters at stake here beside your sense of devotion.”
Adam sighed, and walked around to his side of the desk. Began a quick search through drawers and removed a large roll of parchment.
“This,” he murmured, with a sense of quiet awe, “Is my kingdom, Peter. In two months, this…” and he swept careful fingers across the dark green lines that delineated his territory, “Will all be my responsibility. And I feel it would be…helpful, to say the least, in terms of my legitimacy to…come out swinging, as it were.”
“And what does that have to do with me?”
“The people love royal weddings, Peter, and they love humble origins even more. Just imagine how connected to their monarchs the average individual will feel if they look to our fair castle and see someone like yourself at my side, a commoner who is not quite so common anymore,” he grinned, tone bubbling with all out satisfaction and good cheer. “You’d open a great many minds, just like Count Gray, here,” he gestured at the young man Peter had all but forgotten about, who now stood glowering in the corner, “Once but a humble maker of fine clocks, now commander of the Prince’s-”
“It would be a loveless marriage!” Peter blurted out, as Adam rolled his eyes at the interruption and sighed.
“It would be a marriage of convenience, Peter. No one expects otherwise.”
“She would. You don’t think she deserves-“
“She is the daughter of a king, Peter, I think she’s aware of what her duty is.”
“It’s her…biological imperative, if you will,” both Adam and Peter turned to look at the count, who smirked before returning to his vigil of the library’s door.
Peter was the only one who caught the brief flash of annoyance in the prince’s eyes, before it was called back behind careful blankness.
“Thank you for the input, Gabriel, although I’m not entirely sure if that is technically accurate,” he smiled, serene and authoritative, “If you would excuse Peter and me for a second?”
“Of course, Your Highness,” Count Gray nodded, and strode out of the room, but not without a lazy smirk in Peter’s direction.
“I must apologize,” Adam began, leaning back against his desk, professional smile faded to a mild frown. “That could’ve gone better. I just…”
Peter looked at the young man, whose blue eyes were in danger of drifting shut, whose short blond hair was surprisingly tousled, whose movements had lost their almost frenetic edge of when he’d first come in.
“When was the last time you slept, Adam?” he couldn’t help but wonder aloud.
The prince shrugged, opened his mouth to speak, and then shook his head. Drifted away from the desk he’d been almost perched on and to the sliver of window hundreds of years of defensive habitation had allowed the room.
“Elle has grown quite fond of you,” Adam informed the grey stone, fingers tapping lightly at its rough surface, “You have…you have given her a sense of hope she had long since abandoned to…to romantics and other such fools.”
“She has?” Peter wondered out loud, voice soft and sympathetic, as he moved closer. “She knows I could never-“
“She knows,” ice blue eyes turned to meet him as he stood against the other side of the window, “She just…wishes that were not so. And would do what she could to keep you here. Even if…even if your feelings for her are never to be what she wishes them to be. Do you not find that ridiculous, to say the least?”
He found it heartbreaking, in a sense, and he almost, almost wished he were not so sure that there always was and always would be something not quite right about Adam, about blue eyes that were too cold and blond hair that was too golden and voice that was too smooth.
“I don’t,” Peter smiled, laid a careful, friendly hand on Adam’s arm, soft velvet brushing his fingers. “I would’ve done the same, if I’d had the chance.”
The young man blinked, moved automatically to shrug off the touch, before narrowing his eyes and squaring his shoulders and darting forward, pressing heavy and possessive lips against Peter’s, who was too surprised by the moment to do anything except gasp.
And then Adam pulled away, satisfaction then embarrassment then concern battling for dominance in shining blue eyes before he turned, leaned still and quiet against the wall.
“That,” he heard the prince say, a barely perceptible quaver running through his words. “Was entirely inappropriate, and I apologize. And I…very much hope it does not in anyway influence your choice regarding the proposal I had…have…made.”
“Adam…”
“Thank you for your time, Peter, but I’m sure I must be keeping you from something.”
***
The extent of the something Adam was keeping him from was not especially important.
For the most part, these days, he spent his time wandering the castle, doing his best to avoid Elle, sometimes meeting up with Adam in places he didn’t expect to (like the kitchens, where the young man seemed to have ingratiated himself into the good graces of the sharp tongued, blustery cook who guarded the pantries with a ferocity more often encountered at the gates of perdition, or the large, mostly unattended zoo that had apparently once been the prince’s pride and joy, before his time had been devoted to other matters).
And today, he found himself in a hallway he would’ve claimed not to recall, except that the majority of hallways he regularly encountered looked much the same and he could never really be sure.
The only real distinguishing feature of this place, he realized, was a large, uniformed man that snapped to attention at his approach, then slouched back into his position of bored professionalism when he realized who it was.
“Good morning, Officer,” Peter nodded, latching on to curiosity over more pressing, and upsetting thoughts. “What are you doing?”
“Guarding, sir,” he shrugged, keeping his eyes forward and massive frame in front of the door, voice final and flat.
“What are you guarding?” Peter pushed on, undeterred.
The man sighed, then looked down at him, forehead suddenly furrowed in concern.
“Are you all right, Peter?”
It was Peter’s turn to shrug and push a strand of his hair out of his eyes. “Fine, thanks.”
“Are you sure?”
“I think…I think I’m getting married,” and he wasn’t quite sure when that had become true, but it seemed suddenly likely.
“Well,” large brown eyes blinked at him questioningly, “Mazel tov. I guess.”
“Thanks,” he sighed, pushed himself to smile. “So what are you guarding?”
“Hats,” the man grinned, manically, “The largest and most expensive collection of hats in all the land.”
“Are they…hers?” Peter shook his head, because there wasn’t much doubt as to whose they could be. Which was all around….“Fantastic.”
“I know, right? I could be back home on the island, with my wife, and my kid, and instead I’m…here. Hat guarding. It’s not like she even wears the damn things, you know?”
“Well, someone’s…got to do it, right?”
“Yeah, ‘cause you know she’d freak if-“ Matt froze, cocked his head to the right, almost comically, if his expression hadn’t precluded that.
“What?”
“Nothing, just thought I…heard something. Yeah, you should probably get out of here, if you’re still out to avoid you-know-who.”
“Why?”
“She usually comes around about now, to check in.”
“What do you think I should-“
“Dude, I’m guarding hats here, okay? I’m not the person to be going to for advice. Just…just go out for a ride, or something, okay? Get out while you still can, huh?”
***
He wasn’t, he’d be the first to admit, much of a rider. Horse was docile and generally slow, and one of the few benefits of time he’d spent with Elle had been more experience with and more comfort around the equine, but even so, he had none of her grace nor enthusiasm for it.
But there was, nevertheless, something beautiful and natural and comforting about the woods, even as the rustle of leaves above head reminded him of rainstorms and quick kisses that were, at the moment, making his stomach twist with guilt.
And as Horse slowed to a plod, wandered toward a small meadow he’d seen once from the castle, one he was fairly sure held a small stream, he thought he heard voices raised in argument.
It took him a moment, though, to realize it wasn’t guilty memories that were creeping up on him. It was the hushed bickering of three separate, unfamiliar voices, floating into the clearing as he dismounted and let Horse wander towards the water.
“Hello?” He called out, wondering who could possibly be out this far; there weren’t any villages for miles. “Are you lost?”
That seemed likely, he figured, as the sources of all the rustlings and whispered threats he hadn’t quite caught the words of but whose sentiments were as clear as the bright blue sky, walked out into the clearing.
A tall, blonde woman glanced questioningly at the grey haired man next to her, who shook his head slightly and attempted a none-too successful smile that didn’t quite meet his eyes, as the third man, darker than the other two and with a hand on his sword, scowled beautifully.
“In fact we are, young sir,” the man called out, as the three strode closer, “Would you happen to know where the castle is?”
“Oh, it’s further north, but…but not for miles,” he said, wondering if he should offer to take them, and not entirely sure he wanted to go back himself.
“Excellent,” the man smiled, more genuine but no more comforting for that, “Then no one will hear you scream.”
“Excuse me?” Peter asked, as the obvious leader of the group glanced significantly at the woman to his right, who looked significantly taken aback, while the man to his left looked significantly bored.
“Oh, for god’s sake,” the middle-man sighed, more annoyed at himself than anything, and casually slapped the woman across her face.
“Hey!” he called out, stepping closer, reading to push away the next blow, should it come.
“Ooh,” the blonde cooed, flipping her hair back as she regained her posture, an entirely different expression on her face and cool amusement in her eyes, “Gotta love the chivalry, kid.”
Which was about the last thing Peter heard, as a small, delicate fist knocked him easily to the ground.
.
Characters/Pairings: Overall, Peter, Claude, Bennet, Adam, Mohinder, Sylar; In this chapter Peter, Adam, Elle, and more!. Oh, I'm excited.
Summary: My version of The Princess Bride, with assorted Heroes characters, centering on Plaude. In this chapter, some Peter/Adam and Peter/Elle bonding. And the appearance of, um, five other Heroes characters. And a return to the Princess Bride storyline. And a history lesson! Woo!
Rating: Overall, won't get beyond R, probably not PG-13 even. PG in this part.
Warnings: Uh. PG level violence? At the very end? Yeah, that's about it.
Spoilers: Pretty much nothing for the show, and lots for the movie.
A/N: Finally, something more exciting and surprisingly long. Uh. The chapter, I mean. *cough*
Disclaimer: I own nothing related to Heroes or The Princess Bride, and, in fact, owe the creators of both my eternal gratitude.
Special thanks to c_quinn, as always.
Previous Chapters
How’re you doing?
Fine.
Not worried?
Well…
Well?
Well, a little worried that you think I’m an idiot, so…
I don’t think you’re an idiot-
You’re, like, one third of the way in. There’s no way a main character’s been killed off that quickly.
Fine, just don’t say I didn’t warn you.
“The Bishop Dynasty was begun in a time of strife, after the Battle of Kirby Valley, during which the last of the Linderman kings was unceremoniously killed by a rock aimed at a stray cat, leading to the succession of his second in command, the Bishop of Hartsdale.
As a man of the church, he was initially considered to be only an interim ruler, but he was quick to renounce his religious role and take up the crown, ‘For the greater good of the people,’ and, it has been recorded, considered the position an ‘utter nuisance’.
Of course, it was a time of great nuisance throughout the land; our Neighbors to the East, sensing the momentary, and certainly understandable, instability brought about by a relatively smooth transition to power, took it open themselves to, as would be commonly stated, ‘kick [us] in the [borders] while [we were] down,’ as was traditional for a nation as dishonorable as itself.
Due to some quick thinking and crack negotiating by the great antecedents of our current, illustrious monarchs, the Easterners were quickly encouraged to forgo their attacks on our kingdom, at least until we were better prepared to defend ourselves and make a proper war of it.
In the succeeding years, under the reign of several lesser kings, the military buildup of our nation was deemed a matter of significant importance, and, as a result, a large, well equipped, and impeccably trained but sadly under-used army came into existence, before it was realized that such a substantial asset to our kingdom was best if actually put to use.
The eventual conquest of most surrounding territories and outlying islands brought great wealth and eventual stability to the kingdom, especially after the discovery of gold on Angel Island during the rule of King Robert IV.
However, this peaceful state of affairs was not without its complications: the king’s young and impressionable son, sent East to help foster good relations with a treacherous nation, returned a much different man from the carefree and rollicking youth he had been when he left.
It is believed, and quite clearly substantiated by his subsequent actions, that he had been influenced by radical ideals while abroad, and his decision to take it upon himself to form his so-called ‘Company of Concerned Citizens’, a treasonous cabal all the more threatening for its alliteration…”
“Peter?”
The young man looked up, startled, and slammed the book in front of him shut with all the blushing embarrassment of a teenager caught skimming materials of the more crude nature, at tired blue eyes and a lazier than usual smirk.
“Sorry, I was…was just reading a…book,” he stammered, trying to flip it over without attracting much attention to the cover.
“Terrible habit, that. My father should have it banned,” Adam smiled, a little brighter, as he settled in the chair in front of him, and, graceful as a cat aware it is within its rights to devour a canary, pulled the book across the table. “Ah, history. Even worse a habit, I should think.”
“I was curious,” he shrugged, as casually elegant fingers flipped through yellowed paper. “About-“
“Me?” Adam glanced up, amused. “Anything else you want to know? Favorite color? Thoughts on-”
“What happened when you went East?”
“Pardon?”
“It…I’ve read…it’s like you were…” normal, he was too polite to say, “…one way, and then you went, and when you came back it was to, you know-“
“Take over the world?” Adam laughed, and shut the book, brisk and easy.
“Change the world,” Peter said, diplomatic and kind as he could manage.
“It was love, if you can believe it,” and Adam shook his head, and his normal smirk returned, “Well, of course you’d believe it. But yes, I fell in love.”
Peter tilted his head in surprise, a flicker of sympathy turning his normal, instinctual respect for the prince into kindness.
“What happened?”
“Oh, I was betrayed, obviously. Not all of us find love as true as it is beautiful at every turn, Peter,” Adam shrugged, as if discussing a particularly bothersome week of rainstorms, “It was for the best, of course. I realized I’m better suited for things other than poorly worded poetry and declarations of undying devotion. Is that all?”
“Yeah, that’s,” and he looked into a surprisingly open expression, “Actually, if you…have some time, I was wondering-“
“He was my guard,” the prince sighed, leaning back in the honey-colored wooden chair, stretching long limbs tiredly, blue eyes blinking sleepily, “For about four years, before the…before I left, and he was part of my entourage in the East. I hated him, I must say; so sharp with me about everything, as though I was personally at fault that the world was not as he wished, and perhaps I was. And then I proposed a plan to remedy that, and he…he was the first to go along with it. He was the first I trusted.”
Peter smiled, warmed at the thought.
***
“It’s a prison, you know,” she said, without an uneasily bright grin and accompanying giggle. “For all of us.”
Peter shrugged, shocked a the sudden quietness in her tone, the fact that she’d made no attempt to touch him, but was rather stroking the mane of a spectacularly massive grey mare.
“You have a horse, right?” she asked, a hint of normal disquieting brightness back in her voice, but one that quickly faded.
“Yeah, uh, Horse,” he gestured at the snoozing gelding down the aisle.
“You named your horse…Horse?” she smiled, a sort of genuine amusement that was, in many of the girls he’d grown up around, gleaned from mocking someone else but there was a kind softness to it that Peter found strangely touching.
“I’m not that good with animals,” he answered, by way of explanation.
“You’ll get better,” she said, her brother’s easy confidence turned anxious in her voice, as she moved quickly and fluidly to saddle the grey, who watched her with a kind of patience, and, if he wasn’t mistaken, trust, that Peter couldn’t help find surprising.
“Hey, Peter?” she called out, from the far side of the animal, and he had to move to see her, pulling at leather straps with a kind of brutal finality. “I mean it. About the prison.”
“It can’t be that bad-“
“We’re stuck here. Me and my brother. He loves it, you know? As long as he can…can lock himself up in his library and make plans and command forces from hundreds of miles away, he’s happy but…I’ve lived here all my life, Petey,” her voice had returned to its breathy, coy register, and she attempted to slink towards him in boots designed more for riding than slinking, “This is all I’ve got.”
And she took the opportunity to rack sharp nails across his chest with a degree of strength she probably hadn’t anticipated before he had the sense to move away.
“Thanks for listening, Pete,” she laughed and reached out to pat his cheek, before turning back to the whickering grey. “We should do this again sometime.”
***
“The point, my dear Count, is not for the wall to actually function; it is to give the people building it something to do, and the people seeing it the comfort of-“
“Your High- Adam? You sent for me?”
“Oh, Peter,” Adam looked up, from a large and intricately drawn map. The pale, dark-haired man beside him looked up as well, brown eyes full of a surprising intensity. Coupled with a vaguely disturbing smile, that was enough to make Peter take a step back as both men returned their gaze to the roll of parchment spread across Adam’s desk. “Give me a moment.”
A moment passed, of the prince rolling up the map, smiling politely at the grey-clothed individual beside him and waving him off, then coming around the side of his desk.
“We,” he clapped his hands together, and Peter noticed, for the first time how the darker-than-usual circles under his eyes were, “Need to go and celebrate.”
“What are we celebrating?”
“My father,” and there was a spark in Adam’s eyes that made him look like a much younger man, “Is stepping aside, and retiring to Patagonia. To live out the rest of his life as, and he would know, a king. Which means…”
“You’re going to-“
“Indeed.”
“Adam! Congratulations!” In a moment of new friendship, newer compassion, and long-dormant enthusiasm, Peter decided that it was entirely appropriate to throw his arms around Adam in an exuberant embrace.
“Ah. Well. Thank you.”
It took him a second to realize that the hug had taken Adam off guard, and to remember that the young man absolutely hated surprises. As a result, he pulled away quickly, and watched Adam’s lips quirk into a small smile.
“We’ll…save that for once we’re drunk, all right?”
“Whatever you want, man, it’s your day,” he chuckled, knowing that even when drunk the prince was not likely to turn sentimental.
Adam’s smile broadened, and he clasped Peter’s shoulders familiarly.
“Wonderful,” he grinned, “Because I was about to ask you for a favor.”
“Anything, Adam.”
“You are somewhat fond of my sister, right?”
“For the most part,” he hedged.
“You meet with her on occasion, though?”
“Of course.” She had made sure of it; dance partner, confidante, trail mate, he had become a receptacle for all her latent social urges.
“Capital. I need you to marry her.”
Peter blinked, unsure of his sanity at the moment, or at the very least of his auditory fitness.
“Excuse me?”
“Forgive me,” Adam shook his head, his normal gesture of not-quite embarrassment, but at least admission that his conduct was not precisely appropriate, “I realize that this is not the traditional method for proposing a marriage, or in anyway a proper negotiation, but-“
“It’s fine but…Adam, you know I…”
“Will never love again, yes, and I commend you for your certainty, Peter but…there are other matters at stake here beside your sense of devotion.”
Adam sighed, and walked around to his side of the desk. Began a quick search through drawers and removed a large roll of parchment.
“This,” he murmured, with a sense of quiet awe, “Is my kingdom, Peter. In two months, this…” and he swept careful fingers across the dark green lines that delineated his territory, “Will all be my responsibility. And I feel it would be…helpful, to say the least, in terms of my legitimacy to…come out swinging, as it were.”
“And what does that have to do with me?”
“The people love royal weddings, Peter, and they love humble origins even more. Just imagine how connected to their monarchs the average individual will feel if they look to our fair castle and see someone like yourself at my side, a commoner who is not quite so common anymore,” he grinned, tone bubbling with all out satisfaction and good cheer. “You’d open a great many minds, just like Count Gray, here,” he gestured at the young man Peter had all but forgotten about, who now stood glowering in the corner, “Once but a humble maker of fine clocks, now commander of the Prince’s-”
“It would be a loveless marriage!” Peter blurted out, as Adam rolled his eyes at the interruption and sighed.
“It would be a marriage of convenience, Peter. No one expects otherwise.”
“She would. You don’t think she deserves-“
“She is the daughter of a king, Peter, I think she’s aware of what her duty is.”
“It’s her…biological imperative, if you will,” both Adam and Peter turned to look at the count, who smirked before returning to his vigil of the library’s door.
Peter was the only one who caught the brief flash of annoyance in the prince’s eyes, before it was called back behind careful blankness.
“Thank you for the input, Gabriel, although I’m not entirely sure if that is technically accurate,” he smiled, serene and authoritative, “If you would excuse Peter and me for a second?”
“Of course, Your Highness,” Count Gray nodded, and strode out of the room, but not without a lazy smirk in Peter’s direction.
“I must apologize,” Adam began, leaning back against his desk, professional smile faded to a mild frown. “That could’ve gone better. I just…”
Peter looked at the young man, whose blue eyes were in danger of drifting shut, whose short blond hair was surprisingly tousled, whose movements had lost their almost frenetic edge of when he’d first come in.
“When was the last time you slept, Adam?” he couldn’t help but wonder aloud.
The prince shrugged, opened his mouth to speak, and then shook his head. Drifted away from the desk he’d been almost perched on and to the sliver of window hundreds of years of defensive habitation had allowed the room.
“Elle has grown quite fond of you,” Adam informed the grey stone, fingers tapping lightly at its rough surface, “You have…you have given her a sense of hope she had long since abandoned to…to romantics and other such fools.”
“She has?” Peter wondered out loud, voice soft and sympathetic, as he moved closer. “She knows I could never-“
“She knows,” ice blue eyes turned to meet him as he stood against the other side of the window, “She just…wishes that were not so. And would do what she could to keep you here. Even if…even if your feelings for her are never to be what she wishes them to be. Do you not find that ridiculous, to say the least?”
He found it heartbreaking, in a sense, and he almost, almost wished he were not so sure that there always was and always would be something not quite right about Adam, about blue eyes that were too cold and blond hair that was too golden and voice that was too smooth.
“I don’t,” Peter smiled, laid a careful, friendly hand on Adam’s arm, soft velvet brushing his fingers. “I would’ve done the same, if I’d had the chance.”
The young man blinked, moved automatically to shrug off the touch, before narrowing his eyes and squaring his shoulders and darting forward, pressing heavy and possessive lips against Peter’s, who was too surprised by the moment to do anything except gasp.
And then Adam pulled away, satisfaction then embarrassment then concern battling for dominance in shining blue eyes before he turned, leaned still and quiet against the wall.
“That,” he heard the prince say, a barely perceptible quaver running through his words. “Was entirely inappropriate, and I apologize. And I…very much hope it does not in anyway influence your choice regarding the proposal I had…have…made.”
“Adam…”
“Thank you for your time, Peter, but I’m sure I must be keeping you from something.”
***
The extent of the something Adam was keeping him from was not especially important.
For the most part, these days, he spent his time wandering the castle, doing his best to avoid Elle, sometimes meeting up with Adam in places he didn’t expect to (like the kitchens, where the young man seemed to have ingratiated himself into the good graces of the sharp tongued, blustery cook who guarded the pantries with a ferocity more often encountered at the gates of perdition, or the large, mostly unattended zoo that had apparently once been the prince’s pride and joy, before his time had been devoted to other matters).
And today, he found himself in a hallway he would’ve claimed not to recall, except that the majority of hallways he regularly encountered looked much the same and he could never really be sure.
The only real distinguishing feature of this place, he realized, was a large, uniformed man that snapped to attention at his approach, then slouched back into his position of bored professionalism when he realized who it was.
“Good morning, Officer,” Peter nodded, latching on to curiosity over more pressing, and upsetting thoughts. “What are you doing?”
“Guarding, sir,” he shrugged, keeping his eyes forward and massive frame in front of the door, voice final and flat.
“What are you guarding?” Peter pushed on, undeterred.
The man sighed, then looked down at him, forehead suddenly furrowed in concern.
“Are you all right, Peter?”
It was Peter’s turn to shrug and push a strand of his hair out of his eyes. “Fine, thanks.”
“Are you sure?”
“I think…I think I’m getting married,” and he wasn’t quite sure when that had become true, but it seemed suddenly likely.
“Well,” large brown eyes blinked at him questioningly, “Mazel tov. I guess.”
“Thanks,” he sighed, pushed himself to smile. “So what are you guarding?”
“Hats,” the man grinned, manically, “The largest and most expensive collection of hats in all the land.”
“Are they…hers?” Peter shook his head, because there wasn’t much doubt as to whose they could be. Which was all around….“Fantastic.”
“I know, right? I could be back home on the island, with my wife, and my kid, and instead I’m…here. Hat guarding. It’s not like she even wears the damn things, you know?”
“Well, someone’s…got to do it, right?”
“Yeah, ‘cause you know she’d freak if-“ Matt froze, cocked his head to the right, almost comically, if his expression hadn’t precluded that.
“What?”
“Nothing, just thought I…heard something. Yeah, you should probably get out of here, if you’re still out to avoid you-know-who.”
“Why?”
“She usually comes around about now, to check in.”
“What do you think I should-“
“Dude, I’m guarding hats here, okay? I’m not the person to be going to for advice. Just…just go out for a ride, or something, okay? Get out while you still can, huh?”
***
He wasn’t, he’d be the first to admit, much of a rider. Horse was docile and generally slow, and one of the few benefits of time he’d spent with Elle had been more experience with and more comfort around the equine, but even so, he had none of her grace nor enthusiasm for it.
But there was, nevertheless, something beautiful and natural and comforting about the woods, even as the rustle of leaves above head reminded him of rainstorms and quick kisses that were, at the moment, making his stomach twist with guilt.
And as Horse slowed to a plod, wandered toward a small meadow he’d seen once from the castle, one he was fairly sure held a small stream, he thought he heard voices raised in argument.
It took him a moment, though, to realize it wasn’t guilty memories that were creeping up on him. It was the hushed bickering of three separate, unfamiliar voices, floating into the clearing as he dismounted and let Horse wander towards the water.
“Hello?” He called out, wondering who could possibly be out this far; there weren’t any villages for miles. “Are you lost?”
That seemed likely, he figured, as the sources of all the rustlings and whispered threats he hadn’t quite caught the words of but whose sentiments were as clear as the bright blue sky, walked out into the clearing.
A tall, blonde woman glanced questioningly at the grey haired man next to her, who shook his head slightly and attempted a none-too successful smile that didn’t quite meet his eyes, as the third man, darker than the other two and with a hand on his sword, scowled beautifully.
“In fact we are, young sir,” the man called out, as the three strode closer, “Would you happen to know where the castle is?”
“Oh, it’s further north, but…but not for miles,” he said, wondering if he should offer to take them, and not entirely sure he wanted to go back himself.
“Excellent,” the man smiled, more genuine but no more comforting for that, “Then no one will hear you scream.”
“Excuse me?” Peter asked, as the obvious leader of the group glanced significantly at the woman to his right, who looked significantly taken aback, while the man to his left looked significantly bored.
“Oh, for god’s sake,” the middle-man sighed, more annoyed at himself than anything, and casually slapped the woman across her face.
“Hey!” he called out, stepping closer, reading to push away the next blow, should it come.
“Ooh,” the blonde cooed, flipping her hair back as she regained her posture, an entirely different expression on her face and cool amusement in her eyes, “Gotta love the chivalry, kid.”
Which was about the last thing Peter heard, as a small, delicate fist knocked him easily to the ground.
.