homosexuals | [SPOIL OF WAR AU]

You must be careful, Master Hawkins. I don't know the customs well in your territory, but they might not all be quite the same here. But I suppose I could neither reject a dance from a Princess, nor could I reject one from a King.

But neither would stoop so low as to dance with me regardless. And I wasn't insinuating you are a tyrant - by virtue alone you can have me do whatever you wish within reason, even now and you are not titled. When you are King, I will do your bidding, but I hardly think you're tyrannical.

But if you choose to have me, when the time comes, then it stands to reason I would certainly have to allow you a dance.

[ he also shouldn't have written it down, but he'll redact all of this later, for their safety. ]

Ah. Yes, sorry. I am a quick study. I showed my hand too quickly. It was a lovely book and a welcome reprieve from politics and histories. It was -

[ there's a sputtering of ink, like he's just glanced up to re-read what it is that hawk has written now. he ties the words to the poem and sits for a long time, red-faced. the slopes of his words seem a little shaken, like his heart was beating too fast to hold the pen still. ]

I will always speak to you, Hawkins, rest assured.

[ a slip there - something informal. he doesn't correct it. and instead, in the pages, pressed and soft still - a cherry blossom, light and fragrant. and indeed there may be a bough, sprigs of the blooms decorating the foyer of hawk's rooms when he returns. ]

I stepped out to pluck one for you - I don't have time to enjoy the sun today, but I hope you do. I'll insist your training is cut short so you may spend some time in the gardens.

I'm afraid my tongue is broken in such a manner that I cannot contain my words. I suspect you'll grow tired of me before long.

I imagine dancing with a Counselor is not encouraged in either realm, but ours were more interested in getting onto the battlefield than actually advising. Should that be my second order of business? Seems a shame not to let you in on the fun.

Well, I'm flattered. I'd certainly never want anyone to do anything they didn't want to do under what are to be light and jovial circumstances. But maybe especially you.

If you welcome it, that's a different story altogether.

No need to apologize. It's an admirable skill, and I imagine King Smith both appreciates and has made use of it. I should apologize for having nothing else to offer. In fact - I think you should keep it. It may not be so exciting as a first read, but at least you can peruse it when you wish to take your mind off politics and history.

[hawk runs his finger over the ink, uncharacteristic of tim's excellent penmanship. did he stutter when he realized what hawk was referencing? did the pen become his tongue, unable to formulate rational thought for a moment the way hawk sometimes struggles to when he thinks of tim on his arm and dancing at his side like a lady in court?]

Good. I would dread the day you didn't, Timothy.

[the cherry blossom is a welcome surprise, and hawk crushes it to his nose - that one only, because if he closes his eyes he might imagine tim pushing up to pluck it with delicate hands, imagining the softness of his fingertips as he cradled it in his palm.]

It smells divine. But it seems unfair that I would enjoy such a treat without you when you've gone to all the trouble. Tell me what occupies you - how you may be relieved?

I doubt that very much. You have a whole library to get through with me. I'm enjoying every word immensely.

At our next meeting, I'll share with you a little further about the politics of Counselors and their Kings. There is so much to go over, it would be a better use of time than to write it all.

[ and in hawk's bedroom that night, he will find a very simple note. some words are better left behind locked doors - 1102. and next he comes to pry at tim's journals? they're tucked neatly in a drawer of his desk that has a small, gold padlock on it with turning dials of numbers. ]

I would welcome a dance with you, were you my King and asked of it. But even when you are King, men won't be able to do such things together. It's highly forbidden here, and punishable. Banishment, usually, depending on the gravity of how it is discovered.

But perhaps a dance between Kings and Counselors does not have to be a public one always.

I'll keep the book safe, of course. It's a beautiful gift. I wish there were more like it - maybe it's a terrible admission, but I rather liked it better than politics and histories. It's made it difficult to read anything in our libraries now.

And please, when we are speaking not as Counselor and his Regent-Student - call me Tim? I don't think I've heard much of anyone call me by that in years.

I am often held up in meetings with the King, his council, his men. No doubt you will be among them soon as well, and the times for stolen notes will be behind us. What is it you yearn to do that you cannot while I'm occupied? A walk in the cherry blossoms? That is easily satisfied. Our next lesson will be in the gardens, then.

But you flatter me. Most people find it boring - all the facts, the lessons, the politics, the organization of it all. I'll be here all the same when you are on the throne to help you remember it all.

I'd be much obliged.

[there is a certain thrill to the knowledge that tim probably delivered this letter by hand rather than entrust it to anyone in the castle - which means he was just outside his bedroom door. even moreso when he sees that there is a secret for them to share more than just the journal now - a place for them to speak more freely, even if it is still a risk to put pen to paper.]

You know, I've yet to learn the customary dances of Washington. In fact - I was rather hoping you might assist me with such. So long as you know both parts.

Seems an oversight there is nothing else in the libraries besides politics and histories. Are the arts not so respected here as they may be elsewhere in the land? Perhaps I might suggest it the next time I dine with the King.

Tim. You've asked, and now you shall have it. I like the sound of it on my tongue.

Those I would insist will never be behind us, if you don't mind. There will always be a need for stolen notes - stolen moments, stolen little clarifications. What is a Counselor if not a keeper of secrets? I only hope you'll spare the most room for ours.

It wasn't so much the walk as ensuring you were able to enjoy them as well. A lesson in the garden would more than satisfy both my desires, for I wished to see what you'd look like with a few of the blossoms tangled in your hair.

Good. I could ask for nothing more.

You're in luck. I know both parts - I've had to dance them for Princess Lucy as well as teach possible suitors and visitors. But I will have to be certain you're well prepared, yes.

The arts are respected here, of course. I just think the King before King Smith had less interest in such things. He was a bit of a tyrant, and didn't last long, but he abolished much. I think his majesty is rebuilding trust before stuffing his walls to the brim with books and trinkets.

... you've said my name out loud? I certainly didn't hear if you called me. I was busy making room for whatever secrets it is we must keep, my lord.

[ tim looks at the words for a long moment, runs fingers over the pressed indents where a pen tip rested once some hour or so ago. it gives him a thrill to think they have this little secret, even if it is a dangerous one on so many levels. ]

A lesson in the gardens then. That will be our next. I don't get to sit in them as often as I'd like these days, so it will be a welcome change.

[ and then... a bold change of pace: ]

Tell me, do your eyes look like the ocean in the sun? I'd imagine they do.

So long as you aren't opposed to playing delicate maiden in my arms, then it sounds like we've an important date to add to our schedule of lessons.

And what if an esteemed guest were to ask for them? To live under the shadow of a tyrant, especially within the walls of the palace seems a shame for all. King Smith should not worry himself about trinkets, but perhaps the future Prince Regent can.

I have. Not to you - not yet, but I've mentioned your name in passing to members of staff. "Counselor Timothy Laughlin is much more enthusiastic in his lessons." "Counselor Timothy Laughlin would wither if he saw such an attempt from us both." You are quite admired, which is hardly a secret.

But I suppose adding myself to that long list would need to be something of a secret. Most especially if we are to meet in the gardens together. We might even take lunch, and then it would feel almost like a courtship, do you agree?

[ah, tim does have a way with words. hawk smiles, eyes twinkling even if he or tim cannot see them do as he's just described.]

Hardly as appealing as the way yours resemble rich honey when they catch the light through high windows. Or maybe I should liken it to quartz - the hues reminding me of the temptation of rich chocolate depths that shift into light amber.

The first time I laid eyes on you in the baths...I was struck by your beauty.

You are foolish to think I have not already added it into the grand plan I have for your success here. Even if it means I must play the delicate maiden.

In the same vein, I suppose if you wish to ask on behalf of said delicate maid, I cannot stop you. King Smith admires you - he will listen most likely. It's not been my place to complain about books and art, of course, however fondly I'm regarded.

Lunch can be arranged, if you wish. I will do my utmost to have an apple for you, or one we may share?

[ ... a courtship? it certainly does feel like one. and suddenly he wishes these words weren't in writing, but instead murmured close, even whispered if it had to be. ]

You flatter me. My eyes are just brown, I'm afraid.

I'll admit I was struck when I saw you myself at first. Both when I arrived and, ah. Later. I should lie to you and tell you I felt nothing, but instead I will give you this, even though I shouldn't even dare.

I dreamt about your hands in my hair that night - when you put my hairpin back in. I've never been haunted so well in my life.

I think you'd make a very fine one. You certainly have the hair and the grace for it.

Wouldn't be a complaint, per se. Catching more flies with honey, isn't that how it's phrased across history? But I wouldn't be a particularly good ruler or husband if I couldn't even influence my would-be Father-in-Law, would I? Consider it practice, if it makes you feel better.

We will share everything.

Just brown, you say, as if they aren't more exquisite than even the largest of citrine in the Queen's old jewelry collection. No flattery here, I'm afraid.

I dream about your hair. How it might feel in my hands properly, or tickling underneath my nose in an embrace. It will be even more distracting after I have the opportunity to greet you for lunch, I'm certain.

The cinnamon - I smelled it on you. It's why I asked for it to be mixed into the oils.

I don't know about grace, and the hair is merely a court requirement. But thank you, all the same. For the compliment, and for your future pursuits. I have no doubt you will make a fine husband and King one day.

But sharing everything? I should order a larger lunch than usual, then if we're to share everything. I don't think I'm mind sharing, though.

I will even share with you a place in the garden that no one knows of. Then, if the wind were to blow my hair I suppose you would have to do your duty again and put it back in its place.

[ there's another pause - because the very thought of the scent being on hawk is one that is his own? heavens. ]

We'd only just met. I'll admit, however, in that moment when my hairpiece fell and we met eyes? I wanted to ask if you felt something - I can't put a name to it. It's wrong of me to say I feel it even when we write with one another.

Is it? Will it be expected of me as the King? King Smith does not wear his nearly so elaborate or long. But you - it suits you exquisitely.

Don't trouble yourself, I insist. We'll make due, and I suspect a great deal of my hunger will be fed by the sight of you on a sunny, summer day. By the chance to adjust your hair, to be alone with you in the privacy and peace of this place you speak of.

And the learning - of course, the strenuous lessons, the knowledge...etcetera.

I did. I still do. Why do you think I continue this? That I push and I tease and I do what I can to chase it?

He wears it as he pleases, yes. But Kings have more say in their fashions. It's an old tradition, but most in the King's closest counsel have let their hair grow even a little. It's one the Queen held onto, and as she took me under her wing I respect her wishes. I've grown to like it myself.

Yours suits you, though. I couldn't help but admire the little wave it has when it was wet.

I feel guilty writing these things, Hawkins. You are meant for my sweet Lucy's hand and yet for some reason I cannot scrub you from my thoughts. Are you a witch? An agreeable one you are, if so.

So we will lunch and there will be much learning. You may teach me things, too - about your home, your customs, the war. Perhaps even how your hair may feel beneath my fingers, or even your -

[ there's a scratch out of ink, though with a little careful looking? one might see lips, should I feed you one of the very grapes you enjoy so well ]

Forgive me. My day has been quiet, and a little lonely. I very much look forward to our lessons tomorrow, is all.

It must require great care. Extra time in the baths. Extra time - naked, as the day you were born. Looking like the male counterpart to Venus herself rising out from the water.

Ah yes, that. I try to smooth it down when I can. Perhaps I'll forget next time I wash.

Lucy will have my hand, my loyalty, my sword. But I'm nothing if not a man of my word: I never promised anything of my heart.

A warlock. If I were, I would have found a way to have you to myself.

[that was awfully forward. hawk pauses a long time before finishing, fingers again tracing the scratch as if he might piece together the indent of the tip might spell it out for him.]

As do I. I only hope you'll share with me what you hesitated to write. There are still some things better said in person, after all.

Safer, too.

Edited 2024-05-19 02:17 (UTC)

You have high fantasies for what I look like - an impressive imagination. I've left a vial of oil by your bath side. Next you wash your hair, put this in after. I should like to see your waves celebrated and cared for.

[ the vial is wrapped in something - a kerchief - a custom of the land to show tentative interest. the fabric smells of cinnamon and spice and is well worn. the pattern on it? the colors of a different country. ]

Be kind to her. I beg of you. Care for her in as much as you can. She is a good woman, a dear companion of mine. Only then will I consider lending my heart to anyone.

I'll share in due time, of course. But you're right - writing can be dangerous, even if I must tell you my office is nearly more sacred than the King's throne. Only you and I have they key to this.

I think it might be better to show you what I wrote, instead, at our lunch.

Ah - you've left me two gifts. You should warn me next time so I might repay the favor. The kerchief I can selfishly say I prefer - I've tucked it between my robes. Like carrying a piece of you close to my heart during the day.

[fuck. the period on that looks - dug in. like it sat for too long after hawk has realized what he's written.]

Of course I will. I have met her only once, and I can tell she has a strong will. She's a fine woman - she'll make an exceptional wife.

[which is the problem altogether, but he won't dare put that in writing.]

Our own private haven, then. This and your spot in the gardens, which I find myself awaiting with near bated breath.

How is a man to sleep with your scent wafting in my nostrils and your visage dancing in my dreams?

No need to repay the favor. I just want to be sure you're taken care of here. You're comfortable. My way of keeping some piece of you close to my heart as well.

[ and there's no telling the amount of times he ran his fingers over the indents of hawk's writing, imagining his fingers on his. ]

Our own private haven, yes.

It might not be wise, but I haven't been able to speak so freely with anyone like this before. That is a gift in and of itself. I thank you for it.

So I will apologize you can't sleep - I wish we could write one another like this when we are unable to sleep. I would listen to your restless dreamings if it would help soothe you.

Then rest easy knowing I'm more comfortable here than I ever was even back in my own home. Truly.

Everyone has their secrets, do they not? Some more dangerous than others, but to keep them locked inside is maybe the most dangerous of all. I'm honored to be your outlet - gift, as you say.

[how should he tell tim it's every night? especially the nights he's not to have a session with tim, instead focusing on his physical trainings with the guards and soldiers that are smith's pride and joy.]

You owe me no apologies, though I wish there was a solution to our problem. Do you think -

[it's a terrible suggestion. a reckless idea. there is clear indent where his pen rested yet again in thought.]

Do you think the garden would be as welcoming in the nighttime?

I'm glad to hear you're comfortable here in such a short time.

[ ah. did he inadvertently call hawk his gift? well, then. reading back, he certainly did. his face burns, and he's glad hawk can't see it, but there's an indent and a splotch of ink where he stutter stopped to look back. ]

The gardens are welcome always, and often overlooked at night as the guards' eyes are turned more toward the walls than the grounds. I've read there, under the moonlight before.

We could find time then. For lessons, studies, reading. Any manner of things can still be done by moonlight and candlelight, especially if responsibilities burns up our daylight.

It has little to do with the place. The people...on the other hand. Or should I say, person.

You know, it feels silly to be a man jealous of flowers and the moon itself. For them to have seen you in a state of undress, alone and restless when I'd gladly take their place. After midnight - before dawn, when we might have the cover of darkness then.

For lessons of a different nature. The kind that don't require books. Call it etiquette, if it's a better motivator.

We've not known each other long - you might reserve your judgement until you know that person better, mind you.

But I often go out and read at night when I cannot sleep. Something about the chill as the sun fully sets and it turns to night. Clears my busy mind. The gardens are an easy place to get lost in under the moonlight.

So etiquette lessons might be overdue. I wonder, my lord, if you know where to put your hands should anyone ask you to dance? Or how to hold a maid's hand when guiding them over the steps to the garden, or over the threshold of her rooms.

There are many customs you've yet to learn.

Consider it another one of my many skills you admired - I know how to read people in a short amount of time. I like you, Tim.

And tell me...when you can't sleep and you sit under this moonlight, do you let your hair loose to blow easy and free in the light breeze? Do you forget the customary, elaborate and unnecessary robes that otherwise would cover your person properly for the court?

I have a few ideas. But I should know - I should learn from the man who knows it all. I'd have it no other way.

So I will hold you to this, dancing lessons and escorts and - practice in the moonlight. For courtship, someday.

I suppose we will have to sit in the moonlight one day and you will see for yourself. I cannot share all my secrets, Hawk. But the proprieties of court aren't necessary when no one is nearby enough to see.

All the same - hold me to my word. Someday, of course. I will meet you in the gardens tomorrow afternoon.

[ sometimes, when tim works late, he flips through the book of their letters, touching the indents of hawk's words and imagining what those fingertips might feel against his skin. it's forbidden, really, that he allows himself to wonder this at night when he's laying awake. it's foolish to want to wander with his hair streaming loose and robes left behind to see if he might find him.

but he does none of this. instead, he arranges for their lessons in the gardens, and after meeting hawkins at the fountain and guiding him deep into the grounds where few go. it's in a circle of tall, beautifully colored flora that he's set up a spot for them - a blanket and some food, books and papers spread out. everything in full bloom, they're practically invisible from any foot path. ]

This is just one of many spots you may find some privacy, when you are busy and asked after often as King. I feel it's important for even a monarch to have places they may go to rest.

[ tim is sitting with his legs tucked to one side, a book in his lap on etiquette. he's worn lighter robes today with the weather, his hair scooped up into a messy chignon of wavy, loopy curls, getting it up off his neck while they sit in the shade of flowers. ]

You must keep this secret for me - I steal away here myself sometimes when I need to.

[this might be the first place within the castle that has felt like a true sanctuary - somewhere without the pressures of a new culture and watchful, prying eyes at every turn. it holds more solitude even than the safety of his own room behind closed doors, tranquil and fragrant and so removed from the opulence of the rest of the court that it almost reminds him of what home was once like before it had been ravaged by war. but most of all it's the ease and familiarity with which tim moves within the space - the near liquid pool of his less constricting robes, the way one thigh peeks through the sheer material as it's curled up against his body with a book resting against it, the curls of his hair flowing in pretty tendrils along the sides of his face. there is something ethereal about him here in sunlight, but equally alluring is the promise of moonlight that he knows is being offered to him under the guise of the lessons now.

will he come tonight, hawk wonders? or will tim find he's had his fill of hawk's wry commentary and sparkling blue eyes, even if it's not the history and the mention of a king he's giving his full attention, but rather the man himself for the beauty of every exceptional curve of his visage and the clandestine meeting he's been so strategically introduced to. maybe it's selfish to want more. certainly a risk, danger lurking about even if tim insists this place somehow escapes the soldier's patrols. hawk is not in the business of acting as if there are not eyes everywhere.]

I wouldn't dream of it. And - as a future King, I could hardly consider myself fair if I were to take away your only place of pure solitude. What kind of reward is that for a Counselor and a constituent most generous to share it in the first place?

[he leans in, conspiratorial after making a show of glancing about and lowering his voice. his gaze shifts too, briefly to tim's lips before it drags slowly back up to his eyes. have they always had the richness of honey in their center? he remembers them looking more like the delectable draw of amber in a glass - fine ale or something sweet.]

Your secret is safe with me. And this spot - it is ours alone, now.

[hawk leans in slightly, shifting so he slides in closer to tim.]

Anything you say here is between Hawkins Fuller and Timothy Laughlin. No titles, no judgment. What do you think?

[ hawk is stunning in the bright light of late afternoon, the sun warming his skin, making his eyes sparkle in a way he never sees inside. being outdoors suits him, he realizes, all strong muscles and sturdy build. he settles beside him and tim finds himself already startled by how comfortably the man leans into his space, heat rising up into the high points of his cheeks.

a background of flowers, greenery, bright sun and blue sky makes him look like something out of a painting. part of him wants to tell the court painter to paint him here among nature, sun warm and soft, like the heavens themselves smiling down on him. hawkins fuller will be a good, kind leader. a king that tim can only hope to serve. ]

As future King, all of this in the garden will be yours, so you may do with it as you see fit you know.

[ he smiles, the motion dimpling his cheeks a little, scrunching up his nose behind his spectacles. but there's no denying the way hawk's eyes track to his lips, the way he slides in closer. their letters have ignited something in him. he's had trysts with men before, hidden little things of passion but no affection. necessity, less true desire. but when he looks at hawkins fuller, he feels burning in his gut.

want.

he fidgets with the book in his lap, fingers flipping the corner of one page idly, thumb running over the smooth paper. ]

I'd like that, though. This place being - well, ours. Hawkins Fuller and Timothy Laughlin. We were blessed to have names that tie up the tongue. [ he huffs a little, a laugh, briefly tipping his head up, eyes fluttering closed to admire the sun. ]

It will be very difficult to focus on studies, which is what we should be doing. But it is lovely outside, and I'll admit perhaps when I shouldn't that the company may be lovelier.

[SPOIL OF WAR AU]

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