Chapter Text
At the first of the year, Auguste had resolved to teach Laurent to fence, and his brother had been fascinated by it… for about three months. Laurent was twelve now, and his mind was always racing to the next thing it could master, and, like every twelve-year-old, he assumed that he had mastered it far too soon.
“It’s… a little boring,” Laurent said that morning, after losing a match against Auguste. Auguste tried to let him win every so often, but no so much that Laurent would become suspicious.
“Boring? Oh,” Auguste tried not to show his hurt. Auguste always felt old when Laurent did not want to spend time with him.
Laurent smiled, as if he could read Auguste’s mind. “I like spending time with you, but this… you’re wasting your time with me.”
“Why do you say that?” Auguste asked.
“I’ll never be big enough to make a difference in a fight.”
“You can be small and quick and deadly.” Auguste tried to tap him on the arm, but Laurent’s sword was already in position to block him. “And this will be useful if you’re never called on to fight against Akielos.” They would be at war within the year, Auguste knew.
“I don’t want to fight in a war,” Laurent grumbled.
Auguste admired his brother’s convictions more than he wanted to admit to himself. “What if you have to defend my honor?” he said instead.
Laurent lunged and aimed his practice sword at Auguste’s right leg.
Auguste parried. “They’re all barbarians, you know.”
“They probably think the same of us,” Laurent said.
“Laurent…” Auguste felt a catch in his throat, and he hesitated just long enough for Laurent’s sword to touch his arm.
“Yes!” Laurent said, and jumped up and down. “Yes, yes! I win! And you didn’t even let me this time! I know it!”
“Laurent,” Auguste said and set down his sword.
“What, now that I won for real, we’re not playing anymore?” Laurent got back into his starting position. “This is fun.”
Auguste did not pick up his sword. “I need to talk to you, Laurent.”
Laurent’s face fell. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing’s… nothing’s wrong.”
It was a perfect afternoon, sunny and clear, with a cool breeze stirring the warm air. It would be a crime to ruin such a day.
“Will you sit down with me?” Auguste said, settling himself on a set of marble steps leading to the palace.
Laurent sat and listened. He did not disturb the silence.
“We’re going to war,” Auguste said.
Laurent said nothing for a long time. Eventually he extended his legs out in front of him. “Now?” he asked gently.
“No,” Auguste said, “but soon. I know it. And I want you to be ready. Not to fight, but… to be there?” Auguste felt helpless. He had never seen a real battle before, so he had no idea what to tell his brother about it. “Father might want you to join us.”
“I’d like that,” Laurent said.
“And if Father tells you to go home, you’ll do that, too. You’ll represent us at all the court functions.”
Laurent sneered. “Won’t his brother do that?”
“No. You will. You are the future of Vere.”
Laurent nodded solemnly. “At… every court function?” He wrinkled his nose.
Laurent had disliked the pet performances, on the few occasions that he had been allowed to see them. “I don’t want to be here, Auguste,” he had said the first time. Auguste had wanted to assure him that it was all for show, that it wasn’t real. But before he could say anything, Laurent had said, “And you don’t either.”
Auguste cleared his throat. “Not at every occasion. You’re still young.”
“There will be some things I will never wish to do.”
“Like what?” Auguste said, leaning back on his elbows and lifting his face to the sun.
“Like having a pet.”
“You should,” Auguste said. “When you’re much older,” he amended.
“You haven’t.”
Auguste fought to hide his blush. If Laurent knew why he had never taken a pet, he would be ashamed of him, and Auguste would not be able to stand it.
“What?” Laurent said.
“Nothing,” Auguste said.
“You don’t like boys. That’s fine!” Laurent said.
Auguste blushed crimson. “Wh-why do you say that?”
“Because,” Laurent said like it was obvious. “You don’t look twice at the male pets, but you can’t take your eyes off of that courtier’s daughter… what’s her name, Nathalee?”
Auguste hung his head and groaned. “It’s not important,” he said. “Lots of people want things they can’t have.”
“But it’s not something you can’t have!” Laurent said, in disbelief over Auguste’s despair. “When you come back from war, I’ll find someone for you to marry!” Auguste put an arm around his little brother, so that Laurent could not see the tears in his eyes. This was stupid. He would be at war soon; that would be the right place for tears, not here, not now. “We’ll find you the perfect wife! But you have to promise not to love her more than me,” Laurent said teasingly.
Auguste nodded and held him and promised.