Fic: The White Dove - Part 6

[summeryewberry]

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Chapter 6: Confrontation



The rider from the walls raised the call the next day. After that, Laurent's scheme and Enguerran's organised strategy unfolded like they had been born to do this: messages were sent, men rallied to their positions, and Laurent calmly took his place in the throne room.

"He's brought soldiers with him," Enguerran said from beside Laurent. "A great many soldiers. We can order them to remain outside when he enters, if you like."

"No, Captain, let them in. It will help Emilion feel safer." Laurent liked it when his enemies were confident. He liked it even better when they were over-confident.

Anticipation stirred his blood almost like excitement - it was time for answers - but he let none of that show as he waited idly on the throne.

Damen stood to one side of him and Jord to the other. Auguste was hidden away behind a standing screen, with Enguerran at the doors, ready to secure them. His men lined the room on either side of the carpet that led from the double doors to the dais of the throne, uniforms pressed and shining, a sea of blue standing at attention.

Lord Emilion arrived with a handful of lesser nobles and their pets, like an entourage, his guards trailing behind clad in the deep red of the Regent's forces.

Laurent suppressed his smile and remained unmoving as Emilion approached the throne.

Lord Emilion was of an energetic middle age, well-built and presumably well-skilled in swordsmanship. His beard was as full as the hair on his head with not a trace of grey to be seen among the brown, a man whose prime was not yet past with enough experience to make a formidable opponent. He walked with pride and the kind of confidence that expected to be obeyed.

Laurent assessed him in an instant and hid a smile. Now this was a challenge he was going to enjoy.

"Your Highness," Lord Emilion said with the most perfunctory bow that could be considered appropriate.

"Lord Emilion," Laurent drawled, "thank you for answering my summons so quickly."

Emilion straightened. "I am here with a petition."

"Are you?" Laurent had rarely found it so difficult not to laugh. "Then proceed."

"I am here with a petition to have His Highness, the uncrowned Prince Laurent barred from power," Emilion raised his voice so that it rang through the room. No one moved or spoke. "The prince has proven himself incompetent at best and weak at worst and should no longer be allowed to pretend at kingship. He stripped Lord Vitalis of his lands. If Vitalis de la Rocha had really been a traitor as he claims, a strong king would have had him executed. The Regent warned us of this."

"The Regent was found guilty at trial in front of our council," Laurent said, mildly. "Do you not accept the justice meted out by our very own council?"

"The council has shown their folly by allowing an under-aged king to rule." Nevermind that Laurent would be of age in only a few months and the remaining council member had elected not to appoint a Regent for those few months. "The current council cannot be trusted. My petition moves that His Highness be relieved of his power and that the country be ruled by a new council of experienced Lords who have held this country stable for the past seven years." As he spoke, he held up a sheaf of papers for everyone to see. "This petition has been signed by three Lords and a judge of the law. We have all heard of His Highness' improper conduct; we have on record how he was relieved of his lands, Varenne and Marches, due to cruel treatment of a slave who proved to be a foreign royal."

Damen was trembling with rage and Laurent brushed a stilling hand casually on his forearm as he got to his feet.

"Surely you know," Laurent said, slowly, "had you brought your concerns to me in good faith I would have heard them. And yet you arrived with soldiers."

"I am merely concerned for the kingdom, as we must all be."

"We must, it's true," Laurent's voice hardened. "But you are not. And frankly, as far as conspiracies are concerned I've dealt with worse, and you are no Regent."

"Your uncle will be vindicated with time."

This time Laurent couldn't help but laugh. It sounded cold even to his own ears, and by now his anger was stirring. "Bitterness does not become you, Emilion. Wasn't it you that found your orphanages over-full and bleeding funds when I raised the minimum age of pets? If you are so desperate to revive a culture of fucking children and public rape, then at least be honest enough to say so." Around them, the throne room was dead silent. "This petition is nothing but an attempt at power from a man siding with a fratricidal, regicidal traitor. You are dismissed, and for your treason you will be stripped of your lands and title and receive forty lashes."

Laurent turned back to his throne. A moment later, he heard steel sing behind him.

Jord was moving even before Laurent could turn back, and then there was steel all around him.

Emilion was forced back and away from Laurent by Jord's quick sword-work. Rene took on the nearest guards, forcing them back, and Lazar jumped in to help with a savage grin.

At his left Damen was driving off three more red-clad men.

Laurent's own sword was in his hand, meeting a soldier as big as Govart and probably just as dim. He smiled and took the man down with two strikes to the knee and face, quick and easy. He went down like a boulder, screaming and bleeding on the dais.

Laurent kicked him away from the throne.

Jord had disappeared in the confusion, and Lord Emilion met Laurent's eyes across the space between them.

Then, Auguste was there, a sword in his hand and his golden hair streaming, blocking the way.

Emilion sneered at him. "And who are you?

"I think you know who I am." It was immediately clear that Auguste was not as strong as he once was, but he swung the sword with determination as they clashed.

"I see His Highness couldn't stay away," Emilion said, "from a new lover looking just like his brother."

Auguste reeled in horror and stepped clumsily.

Laurent saw blow coming.

It was like being back at Marlas, on the field, watching the killing blow. A flash of light off steel, quick as lightning and he was thirteen again.

He reacted with emotion, forgetting himself and where he was. "Auguste!"

Damen's sword blocked Emilion, sending him reeling from the sheer power, a mountain stepping in to protect Auguste with towering strength.

Emilion fell back, his gait off balance, two steps straight into Jord, where he froze and stiffened.

In a breathless moment he glanced down to see Jord's blade sticking out of his body, gleaming silver coated with red. His mouth opened as if to say something, but no sound came out, or at least nothing that could be heard over the din of the hall. Laurent had seen men stay on their feet in the moments after they died, but few lasted as long as Emilion.

In the end, even he slid to the floor.

The fight was over quickly after that. Lord Emilion had underestimated how many soldiers were loyal to Laurent in the palace. Once Enguerran opened the doors, men in blue streamed in to subdue the rest of Emilion's guards.

Swords hit the floor as those still standing surrendered.

Laurent stood breathing as the calm swept in and the ringing of steel faded.

Auguste pushed his hair back the same way he used to, a careless, unconscious gesture. It hurt to see, making Laurent's heart beat with an aching sort of longing.

Lord Emilion hadn't recognised him.

The realisation rang like a bell in Laurent's head as his mind spun with the conclusion and the last of his denials stuttered and stumbled: they hadn't been working together!

For a Lord as close to his uncle as Emilion had been, if anyone had been tasked with a contingency plan, it would have been him, and yet Emilion had not known the man in front of him.

The entire hall was staring now. A lot of pale faces turned, and some of those who had known Auguste were whispering to those who hadn't, a ripple of voices that held the name: "Prince Auguste."

Auguste himself glanced between them and Laurent. He was just as pale, whether from the near death or from what was happening now. All around, men were watching him.

He dropped his sword and turned to Laurent. "Long live the King," he said, and dropped to one knee.

Murmurs rose and the whole hall fell to their knees in echo: "Long live the King."

Only Damen stood tall beside Laurent as his equal.

"For the good of our kingdom," Auguste spoke clearly enough to be heard by everyone. "I am declaring my abdication from the line of succession and renouncing my claim on the throne of Vere. I acknowledge King Laurent as the rightful ruler of this kingdom and pledge my allegiance to him."

More quiet murmuring followed this time but no one rose. Only a few injured men moaned in the otherwise quiet hall.

Most of the men had their heads bowed, but Damen and Auguste were both watching Laurent, two faces so familiar to him, and his heart beat heavily.

"Rise," Laurent said.

As Auguste climbed to his feet, Laurent searched his face, that impossible face, with impossibly familiar expressions. Even his scars had been familiar, Laurent remembered, and when they stood face to face Auguste wasn't so much taller anymore.

"You would agree to be a commoner?" Laurent asked.

"The kingdom is in good hands," Auguste nodded. "I've spoken to your people, your servants and commoners, and I'm beginning to see how you rule. You are more than capable and you don't need any help, but I would be humbled to serve you as a subject. I don't want power. I only want my little brother back. I miss you, Laurent."

Auguste had jumped in to defend him, and Emilion hadn't been expecting him. Laurent wanted to trust him, his heart ached as painful as if he had been injured during the fight. Years of pain stretched between them, a black hollow that Laurent knew intimately, and that he would never be able to overcome. Each heartbeat ached.

The whole hall held its breath.

"For services to the Crown, I thank you," Laurent said, quieter. "I want to believe you are who you claim to be, but as you have seen today not everyone in my kingdom can be trusted."

"I understand, little brother." The words held a deep sorrow, and Laurent couldn't find the lie in them.

"As it happens, I find myself without a patron for some lands in Barbin. The castle of the former Lord, Vitalis de la Rocha, stands empty after I relieved him of his position, and his lands need a Lord to manage them. I want to give you the chance to prove yourself by taking over those lands Lord Auguste."

A wild hope filled Auguste's eyes and Laurent had to force himself not to react. "It is my honour, Your Majesty." Auguste bowed low and respectful. It was a clumsy bow, but it was deeper and more honest than Lord Emilion had shown not twenty minutes earlier.

Laurent had given Jord a second chance, and maybe this would give them all a chance to see who the new Lord Auguste really was. He tried not to hope, but it was harder than ever to keep his composure.

Enguerran's voice rang out from the doors. "Long live King Laurent!"

The words were repeated throughout the hall by soldiers, courtiers, pets, and a few physicians who had come to take care of the injured.

At last it was over and soldiers returned to their duties, escorting prisoners to the dungeons and covering the dead. Enguerran led the instructions, Damen started directing the physicians, once again preferring the role of soldier to that of King. There were many more glances cast at Auguste by anyone who passed him.

Laurent waved over Rene. "Make sure you have at least one man in our new Lord's household."

Rene nodded.

"Captain!" Laurent raised his voice so that it rang through the hall again. "Clear this hall, and have the traitor's head put up on the city walls. The next person who tries to turn my hall into a slaughterhouse will suffer the same fate. And send out the word: Any Lords willing to swear me their allegiance before my ascension will be pardoned for their past support of my uncle." He turned to address everyone there, and repeated himself just to be clear. "Complete pardons for renouncing allegiance to the previous Regent."

It was a sacrifice to let some horrible people get away with past crimes, but it was a necessary one. He couldn't afford instability under his new rule and needed to erase any motivations to settle past grudges. Future crimes and conspiracies were another matter entirely.

His thoughts turned to Rene's growing intelligence network and contented himself with the fact that any laws broken after his ascension could be dealt with then.

-

Laurent called a small meeting for the next day, including Berenger, Estienne, and Herode's son, Gieffroy. Unlike a formal council meeting, this one was held in a smaller audience chamber.

It wasn't one of the more opulent chambers, but Damen still glanced at the mirrors on the walls and their gilded frames with bafflement, as though he couldn't understand why anyone would decorate a room with architectural artwork. Having seen the unembellished architecture of Akielos, Laurent could understand the confusion if not the sentiment.

Damen was only distracted by Berenger bowing to him.

"I apologise if anything I did during your previous stay has caused you to think less of our country, Exalted," Berenger stumbled over the foreign title.

Damen's face remained soft. "You have nothing to apologise for, Berenger. You caused no offence even if you did not know me."

Berenger bowed again. "Thank you, Exalted. I hope we will be able to work together in the years ahead for the good of our countries."

"As do I."

Damen took his seat beside Laurent while Berenger turned to serve himself some wine from the side table.

"Is that something I should expect more of?" Damen asked.

Laurent's mouth twitched against his will. "Of course not. Most of my courtiers will be far more interested in how I manage to sit on a cock the size of yours."

Damen sighed. "Veretians. How could I forget?"

"You'll learn to love us." This country would be ruled by both of them, after all.

Damen's eyes were deep as they met Laurent's gaze. "Some of you, I already do."

Laurent's heart flipped. Sometimes those honest, undisguised words still managed to take his breath away.

Around them, everyone stilled, and Laurent looked up to find Auguste standing in the doorway.

Berenger dropped his cup.

Laurent got to his feet. "Allow me to introduce all of you to Lord Auguste."

Everyone was staring at Auguste, though the gossip had had at least a day's head start and surely everyone here had heard of Auguste's presence in the palace by now.

All at once, Auguste's face split into a smile. "Berenger!" he said with delight.

Berenger tried in vain to clean the splashes of wine off his clothes. "Your High- I mean... Lord Auguste?" he stuttered.

Auguste laughed, open and honest. "Berenger, it's good to see you at Laurent's side! You were always a friend to me, and I'm glad my brother can rely on you."

Berenger stuttered, "Y- Yes, of course."

Estienne greeted Auguste looking only sightly less stunned, and Gieffroy was the picture of elegance as he greeted their newest Lord with grace and well wishes.

Eventually, Berenger roused himself and turned to Laurent. "It's true? I didn't want to believe the rumours but... How is this possible?"

Laurent debated how to reply long enough that Jord had to step in. "We don't know. He turned up in the palace gardens one morning."

Auguste clapped a hand on his shoulder. "You too, Jord. I want to thank you for protecting my brother as you did me; I don't know where we would be without you. I wish I had answers for you, old friends. My brother still doesn't believe I'm me."

Laurent's heart thudded heavily as he watched. It would take some time before it stopped doing that every time Auguste did something so familiar. They would have to speak soon, but for now this meeting came first.

"Lord Auguste," Laurent picked up one of the stacks in front of him. "Your household has been accounted for. Most of these people worked for the previous Lord of the castle so they know the grounds, but final choices will be up to you, of course." He only hoped it wouldn't be any of Rene's men that were dismissed.

But Auguste didn't look like he expected any ulterior motives and smiled with innocent gratitude. "I appreciate it, Laurent. Thank you."

The meeting itself was brief.

Berenger reported that many of the more resistant Lords had one-by-one requested an audience to swear their allegiance and speak with their new King.

"Good," Laurent nodded. As distasteful as it may be, to hold this country together, he needed to turn his enemies into his supporters. "They don't need to be happy with me, as long as they aren't stirring dissent in their lands."

"Even Audin?" Berenger asked, and Auguste pulled a face at the name.

Privately Laurent agreed. "If Audin cannot stay away from children, then I look forward to seeing him in my dungeons. I have to be realistic. He will not like bowing to me but like all the others, I guaranteed them pardons, not power under my rule. In a choice between losing their heads and living in quiet comfort, I'm satisfied that most of the Lords are choosing the smart option."

"You're walking a delicate line," Damen remarked, quietly.

"Thankfully, my balance is impeccable."

Auguste looked impressed.

Laurent looked away. "How is the work at Marlas?"

"Very well," Damen reported. "The towers and outer buildings will take years to make into a suitable royal palace, but the main hall should be complete before your ascension. It will be enough for a ceremony."

In the end, it wasn't an altogether uncomfortable meeting. It was certainly better than anything Laurent had ever attended when his uncle had been alive, but that was starting from a baseline in the gutter. He knew Vere could be better and far stronger than the northern backwater it had been for far too long. In alliance with Akielos, Vere would become a power of which citizens could be proud. The new Artesian age would take its place in the history books; Laurent intended to make certain of it.

Berenger gave Auguste one last emotional farewell before he left with a promise to visit soon.

Estienne and Gieffroy were deeply engaged in discussion over a Vaskian trade caravan they both valued. Only Auguste lingered behind after the others.

"What is it, Lord Auguste?" Laurent finally asked.

The smile on his face was subdued when he spoke. "I know why you don't trust me, and if I'm honest I can even admire you for that. I can't pretend I don't miss you, Laurent. I miss the way you used to come to me, but if I've lost you, at least I can take comfort in the fact that you have someone else by your side now," Auguste turned to face Damen. "King Damianos, I have never trusted an Akielon before; can I trust you to make my brother happy?"

Damen was solemn. "I swear to you, I will do everything in my power to see he is never hurt again."

"Good," Auguste nodded. "Then I shall prepare to ride for my new lands as soon as I can arrange it. Exalted. Your Majesty."

Hearing his title finally come from Auguste's mouth was not as satisfying as Laurent had thought it would be.

-

The gardens were bitterly cold, even at high noon. Light snow drifted from the sky leaving a thin carpet across the grass, and Laurent watched as Damen stuck out a hand to catch some.

"First time seeing snow?"

Damen laughed a little ruefully. "No, but it is uncommon in Akielos. One winter in Delpha, I had to stop in a village called Hellas; some of the people still called it Helas," he used the Veretian pronunciation. "That night it snowed just like this. It was the first time I saw snow. It hasn't snowed in Ios since my grandfather was a boy."

Flakes fell on Damen's dark hair like stars. Laurent gave in to the urge to touch them and enjoyed the way Damen lit up whenever he was the first to reach out. His hair was as soft as ever, and his curls sprung back as soon as Laurent tried to push them away.

He took Damen's hand instead. "This way."

Through an archway was the familiar plinth on which a statue had once stood, with its curling inscription still visible: Prince Auguste Aleron Richard Lucien of Vere.

They came to a stop in front of the empty pedestal.

Familiar sadness settled around Laurent, as it did whenever he came here, but now it was tempered with unease. There was a man somewhere in the palace behind him who may or may not be his brother, come back to life as if from a legend.

"I can't remember how many times I wished he would come back," Laurent said out loud. "I spent so long wishing for something that never came. Now my heart wonders if it's finally happened, but my head doesn't want to believe in the wishes of a lonely child anymore."

Snow drifted slowly and quietly around them, falling on the empty plinth as white dust.

Damen's hand was warm despite the chill all around.

"You need time. I think you know that," Damen said quietly, as if he didn't want to disturb the stillness either. "It's the only thing that will show you the truth, one way or another. And I will be by your side, whatever the truth may be at the end of that time."

In less than two weeks Laurent's whole world had been upended, his playing field changed underneath him. In those two weeks he had lost sleep and strengthened his sovereignty, either gained a brother or an enemy.

But it was also true what he had told his allies: his balance was exceptional, and if he was going to have to learn to stand on this new ground then he was going to do that. It couldn't be any more difficult than ruling two kingdoms.

"Do you believe it's him?"

Damen sighed. "I only know him through your memories, but I don't think the man inside wants to hurt you. I can't see any malice or betrayal in him."

"You always did believe the best of people." Laurent didn't bother pointing out that Damen hadn't seen betrayal in his own brother either.

"And you have always been the cynic," Damen smiled a little. "Give him time, but more importantly, give yourself time. After everything, you deserve that too."

Laurent thought of Dauphine at Chastillon who believed in her mother's story without question. He thought of Emilion's shocked face when he saw Auguste. He thought of the statue that still hadn't been found as though it had vanished into thin air. He thought of how lucky he was to have Damen in his life, and how unexpected that had been, and maybe one day he could believe that he'd been granted a happy ending. Maybe one day he could believe in fairy tales again too.

-

Auguste was preparing to ride out to his new lands when Laurent found him. The clothes with which he'd been provided by the servants lay on the desk, a single chest open beside them. He didn't own much. The shelves in his room were bare except for a few of Paschal's medicines and one slim book on the Akielon-Veretian war that Laurent knew was only three years old. He'd read it himself once as he'd plotted his revenge on Damianos.

Auguste himself had his back to the door as he struggled to fold a shirt. He looked the same as he did when he had ridden off to war and not a year older, as if the age gap between the two of them had shrunk. He must be the same age as Damen now, or did time still count if one had been dead for seven years?

Now he was wearing the clothes of a commoner, not those of a courtier or a crown prince, though Laurent had no doubt that as a titled Lord that would change as soon as Auguste got his lands settled and accounted for. In a few months there would be new lambs for his farmers, and new crops to plant for a new year and a new Lord. They were good lands. Anyone who was not a complete idiot would turn them into a thriving area.

Auguste jumped when he turned to see Laurent in his rooms. "Your Majesty! What can I do for you?" He looked strong and healthy, golden hair brushed and tied back with a ribbon, the same way he used to wear it.

Laurent held out what he had brought with him. "You may need this."

When Auguste shook out the cloak it was larger than any of Laurent's clothes, a good, warm cloak to keep a man warm in winter. It had been one of many items passed from Auguste to the next crown prince in line after he died.

"This was a gift from Father!" Auguste's eyes lit up. "You kept it all these years?"

"Most of the clothing that remained was altered to fit me. I never wore red so that one wasn't altered. It should still fit you more than it ever will me."

Auguste ran his fingers over the deep ruby cloak. "Thank you." When they faced each other there was not much difference in their heights now, less than half a foot.

Something like vertigo gripped Laurent. "Tell me again what you remember."

Their eyes met, blue as each other, and for a moment neither of them moved. Auguste's face was always so easy to read, questions and hope chasing each other across his expression.

Auguste asked carefully, "Laurent?"

Laurent inclined his head, granting permission at the name, and he saw Auguste relax.

"Two weeks ago I was riding alongside father, fighting a war. We'd lost so many people and the farmland across Delfeur - Delpha - was full of ruin and blood until there was nothing left to fight for anyway. So I made the decision to face the crown prince of Akielos in single combat to decide the war. He was good, as good as everyone said he was. Better than me."

Laurent breathed carefully and didn't interrupt.

Auguste added his new - old - cloak to his meagre belongings as he spoke, one heavily decorated, expensive piece large enough to cover everything else he owned. "I remember looking up a the sky and being cold - I've never been that cold before - and then you were there, yelling at me. I don't even remember what you said before your men dragged me inside the palace."

Laurent remembered pressing his knife to Auguste's neck. "It's not important," he said.

The familiar smile was back, but sadder than before. "Now, my father is long gone and buried, along with the rest of my family. Except for my little brother who has become a grown man, a king even, who has made peace with the men I was fighting two weeks ago." Auguste looked at once lost and full of grief.

Laurent hadn't thought about what Auguste might be feeling before. He wasn't sure he could imagine what that kind of experience must feel like to live and know you had lost so much time.

"We used to play killing Akielons, do you remember?" Auguste said.

"Yes. But all that has changed now."

"I can see that." He stood straighter, his princely posture appearing again. "When you were born I knew that the love you brought into other people's lives was going to change the world and I was right. Your love has changed everything."

Laurent flushed hot. "I hated Damianos for a long time, for taking my brother away from me, for leaving me alone. But he's a good man." He took hold of his own wrist so that his twitching fingers wouldn't give away how helpless he always felt when he thought about Damen as if his feelings were running away with him. It was only after he'd done it that Laurent realised he was holding onto his own cuff. "He's gentle and loyal and honourable. And he loves me."

"I don't know him," Auguste admitted, "but I do trust you. You've always been smarter than me and I think you're going to prove a better King of Vere than I would have been." Before Laurent could protest Auguste continued. "I'm still trying to catch up on everything that has happened since I was gone, but at least I get to watch you grow into your sovereignty now. I missed seeing you grow up, but you became a capable and good man, with loyal men around you. I couldn't be prouder and I know Father would be proud too."

The lump in his throat was something Laurent hadn't felt in many years, and when he spoke his voice was smaller than he had intended. "I miss my big brother."

Auguste's smile was still tinged with sadness. "I know, and I'll never be able to take that pain back, but I hope there's enough left here at least that we can build on. It won't be the same because you don't need me anymore but maybe we can work out something new?"

Laurent swallowed, determined to keep his control together. "I already have. I'd like you to become one of my advisers. Berenger will be working as my secretary, and there are still positions open at my new court if you want one."

"I'd be honoured to serve my King and my little brother." He said it with an awkward little bow in which he definitely wasn't practised.

Laurent stepped deliberately forward, and Auguste opened his arms.

No knife sank into his back, no blade pierced his belly, only familiar arms came around him and held him as any brother, and Laurent finally relaxed. It was both old and new, familiar and strange to be almost as tall as Auguste was now.

"I guess you got your wish," August said. "You got your empire, after all. Without slaughtering half the Akielon army."

"No, I'm marrying their King instead," Laurent admitted.

"Your strongman."

Laurent pushed him away, but Auguste was laughing.

"No, no, Laurent, I'm happy for you, really."

That laugh was more real than anything, a dream that had stepped into reality, and Laurent huffed as he straightened himself. "And I was going to ask you to take care of yourself. If you get yourself killed again, I won't be there to protect you."

Auguste beamed as bright and warm as the sun. "Don't worry about me, little brother. You have far more to worry about than your impulsive older brother. But I will be there when you want me. Just send word."

Something warm sat in Laurent's chest and it took him a minute to identify the feeling.

It was hope. Fragile and hesitant, but it was there.

"I will," he promised.



On to Epilogue.