[Semi-Closed Post: Aornis Is a Real Headache]

[timebethine]

Somewhere around midnight, a migraine descended on Laertes like a thunderhead, and he still hasn't come out from beneath its anvil. He's spent most of the day hiding in bed with the curtains drawn, feeling as though he's about to be sick--and that feeling's only grown worse as the sun has drifted sluggishly to a low apex in the sky.

It isn't until mid-afternoon that he feels well enough to make progress on all his plans. He needs to speak to SecUnit about its drones, to Dionysus about whether Avernus (that is her name, isn't it?) is a goddess, and to Nightingale about whether he can offer magical support in case their confrontation goes sour. He needs to talk with Claudius about what to say when he does speak to her.

So it is that he starts making his rounds through the mansion and its grounds, seeking out friends old and new, clinging grimly to the thermos of coffee that smells sickeningly strong but also helps drive back the pain. His face is wan, his eyes shadowed. He would rather be doing anything but this.

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[timebethine]

"Presumptuous, to speak so to thy king," says Laertes, and he is fully teasing now.

[wickedwit]

"For you," Claudius corrects, shifting a little and smiling. "Yours. Is that what your majesty would have of me?"

[timebethine]

And at that, Laertes has to laugh and haul Claudius up to kiss. "One day," he says. "Only let me know when thou art in a mood to play that game."

[wickedwit]

Claudius smiles even wider at that, a smile contented but not completely sated. "Wouldst thou play a little now?" he asks, asking familiarly first. "Play with practicing thy sovereignty over me?"

[timebethine]

Laertes hesitates. A part of him--the part that longs to please, to impress, to be accounted worthy of love--wants to say yes. But he's just been speaking with Claudius about the importance of setting boundaries, and he's more than usually aware of his own discomfort. "Not today," he says at last. "Once this business is over, I will. I swear it."

[wickedwit]

"Thou need'st not swear," Claudius says with a laugh. "It's only play. Swear, and thou wilt make it sound like some solemn duty thou must pay or else prove thyself forsworn. Thou dost not owe me anything we do in bed -- thou knowest that?"

[timebethine]

"I do. But I know that I forget more often than I should, and I would not have thee believe that my forgetting is a refusal. It's only that, when I remember after midnight how I'd longed to fence for thee, it seems churlish of me to drag thee out of Galahad's bed."

[wickedwit]

“Oh, I’ve given up any hope of that.” He sighs and shakes his head. “If there were anyone else who watched thee fence, I might feel some chagrin, and wonder how thou couldst remember them and not me. Otherwise I assume whenever thee and Sagramore decide to fence, thou art thinking only of each other, which is romantic. It’s a private exercise for the two of you. If it’s been so for these many months, it’s not likely to change. Thou needst not force thyself.”

[timebethine]

Quietly, "I wish thou wouldst not think of it thus. I want it. Forgetting doesn't mean I want it less--it doesn't mean I want thee less. Every time I remember too late, shame goes through me like a blade, and I recriminate myself for forgetting. I want to remember. If I could, would I not spare myself the pain of that shame?"

[wickedwit]

“I did not mean that.” He lets his head rest on Laertes’s chest. “I am sorry I made it sound so. But if thou canst not remember, and can only feel shame for it, then I would rather I accept it and thou feel’st no shame at all. What else is there for me to do?”

[timebethine]

"Because what thou wantest is not the fencing, but to be thought of," says Laertes. "And I can't prove to thee how often I think on thee. I can't show thee how often I'll be in the bath, or making a sauce for supper, or beginning to fall asleep, and my heart will burn with the thought of thee."

[wickedwit]

“Thou canst. Thou art, by telling me. Thy words are enough to content me. Dost thou think I need more?”

[timebethine]

Laertes closes his eyes. "I would I were better for thee."

[wickedwit]

“I love thee as thou art.” Softening, he says, “I know thou art forgetful. In the workshop, thou hast little sense of the time that has passed, and thou wilt oft mislay thy tools. But those are trifling things. Thy mind is always engaged with something, some question or inspiration thou wilt follow to its end, creating a trail of brilliant connections … the shame would be to stymy them. I let thee work in the way that suits thee, supporting thee with mine own strengths, with the space arranged so thou canst easily move from one idea to the next. If thou dost want this — truly want this, for thy sake and not only mine — thou must do it in a way that suits thee. Thou canst not simply hold it in thy head, expecting to remember. When thou wak’st at midnight, and I am abed, write what thou mean’st to do down. Leave it where thou wilt see it again — an thou must, tie the message to thy sword. Experiment, as thou dost in the workshop. Do not try to make yourself another man. Thou art the man I love, and all I desire is to see him flourish.”

[timebethine]

That faith is overwhelming. Laertes has almost come to accept faith from Sagramore, but Sagramore is like him, and he can forgive Laertes's failings because his are the same. But from Claudius--Claudius, who forgets nothing, not a name or a slight or a debt unpaid--it feels like a miracle. It humbles and uplifts him at once; it makes him long to be the man Claudius loves, and no other.

His eyes sting. He crushes Claudius to his chest, and kisses his brow with all the tenderness in him.

[wickedwit]

In those arms, Claudius can never feel unwanted. He feels, as he often feels when falling in love, like he’s being held in orbit, and no matter how far he drifts he’ll always be pulled back some inexorable force. He feels it in the force of Laertes’s arms, crushing him close.

“I admit,” he says, tone turning flirtacious, “this is the first I heard that thou didst long to fence for me. Sagramore said nothing of thy assent, whether it was obliging or eager, or whether thou wert wary of me still. Thou canst prove thy thoughts to me in voicing them, but ere now this desire of thine has been voiceless.” Flirtacious and demanding, he says, “Tell me. What makes thee want it?”

[timebethine]

"It pleases thee, to see displays of skill," says Laertes. "I know that my skill is no equal for the peerless swordsmen of this place--but I want thee to see it all the same, and I want it to heat thee the way it heats thee to watch Sagramore ride."

[wickedwit]

"He praised thee so for thy prowess with a weapon," Claudius says, winding back through the memory, "and thou him. The coincidence delighted me. He spoke of thy speed, how it was but a sport to thee but couldst steal his breath and end his life, and I could tell it thrilled him in his blood, to be so at thy mercy. Thou toldst me how he took to the Italian style like he'd been born with a foil in his hand. Thou wert new to love, but even then, thou hadst such untiring admiration for him, in every new thing thou didst share. I remember thou saidst thou couldst fight him every day and bed him every night," he laughs. "Even then, I must have had some sense of intruding, of demanding. Of playing the imperious prince, asking thee to show thy skills for my pleasure. But I did long to see thee. Thou art a thing of beauty, when thou giv'st thyself to what thou dost love."

[timebethine]

"I want thee to see me as beautiful. I want mine imperious prince to demand that I show my skills for his pleasure."

[wickedwit]

"I should've known," Claudius says with a fresh laugh, rejuvenated through their shared understanding. "But I'm glad thou hast told me. Thou know'st how well I desire to be begged."

[timebethine]

"I do," says Laertes, and he presses a kiss to Claudius's brow. "Then let me plead with thee--thou hast a place between us. Our bed is thine; thou wilt never be an intruder there. I beg thee, know thyself welcome."

[wickedwit]

“Then let me make princely demands of thee,” Claudius says in a lofty, teasing tone. “Be gentle with thyself, because thou art mine, and I take great pride in what I own. Know thy lord is not testing thee and waiting for thee to fail, because it is a poor lord who lays traps for his servants that make it harder fulfill commands. If a plan we’ve made doesn’t work, I’ll change it to better suit thy strengths, but I won’t judge or blame thee. Blame thyself a little less.”

[timebethine]

"Dost ask a hard thing of me," says Laertes, and although he matches Claudius's teasing tone, there's real rue in his voice. "But I didn't ask to be thine for the ease of it."

[wickedwit]

"Thou knew'st I was difficult," Claudius says, levering himself up and lightly touching Laertes's cheek. "But I will not ask the impossible of thee. I want thee to succeed, and be happy."

[timebethine]

"I am happy," says Laertes. "Not at every moment, perhaps--but happiness hath the greater part of my heart. I hope thou canst say the same."