sebastian’s question washed over him like a pail of cold water, chasing away the veneer of naughtiness that enshrouded them from all else. for one short moment, it was all harlon could do to stare at him, his eyes wide and failing to understand. were their affections so fickle in nature that something like this could unravel them all? did sebastian really think him to be that craven? his lips parted as if to speak, to breathe life into his affront, but he quickly pressed them together again, thinking better of his impulses.
no, that wouldn't have been fair. or sane. harlon knew all too well what sebastian meant, even if he was trying his damnedest to trick himself otherwise. still, he had fought too hard for this — their partnership, and all which came after — to let it slip through his fingers at the first sign of trouble. he was a kraken; it was not in his nature to let things go, least of all not that which was most precious to him, his greatest golden treasure being one.
and so, harlon dropped his gaze to where sebastian held him, such a small act having anchored him in place amidst the turmoil. his hand twitched, as if hesitating, before coming to rest atop of sebastian’s. it was an overly familiar gesture, but not entirely out of place here; not for him, who fussed over everyone who was dear to him, and sometimes even those who were not. should a wandering eye lead to any questions, his ... eccentricities were an easy justification.
harlon shook his head and sank back into the sea that was sebastian’s gaze. “why, only if we are called upon at a most inopportune time. otherwise, i do not see why it should.” a half-truth, a half-lie; all dependent on how one looked at it — and he, as per usual, refused to. he owed his life to the iron islands and to his family, to those he would feast together with in the watery halls, but there were some parts of it — of himself — that he could not owe, not ever. they were too sacred, too incorrigible to be handed over in the name of duty. no, he would not do it; not even if the king himself decreed it.
knowing this, and that there was only one man who could cause him to change course, harlon gave his hand a tender squeeze, allowing him no such escape. “you've done naught that would force me to do such an ugly thing,” he started, voice steady and soft, but when he spoke next, it was in a tone which brooked no argument, “nor would you, for that matter. would you not agree?”
to the untrained eye , much of the world is taken as it is — in plain sight . a blissful life , kissed and touched only by colors and shapes , words not a version of varying truths . it is the kind of life he never got to know , will never know . he is the son of his father , a son of house reyne . his life is meant for so much more than blissful , it is molded to be great . he is meant to be great . but this inherited greatness comes at a great personal cost . took from him many things , slumber and sincerity only to name a few , and put other things entirely at the forefront . equipped with more than his own hands can carry . and so , sebastian sees it clear as day . the storm he brought bellowed within harlon , and its icy , bony fingers grips onto his beloved with terror . a stranger long abandoned , caught up and prepared to set fire to this safe space they created .
he searches for solace in harlon's eyes , brown orbs ever the most breathtaking he's laid his eyes on . desperation clung to him , as breath does to a dying man . he gazes upon harlon and finds more than clarity or familiarity , he sees in him certainty . the only truth he's ever known . sebastian used to tell himself that no one ever wore the same face in two different places , in court and in the confides of their chambers even more so . and yet every time he finds himself looking at harlon , he sees the exact same one , and he is entirely ... enamoured . he still swims in a sea of anguish , unable to soothe what he can only make out as impending loss , gritting its teeth . and only when he surrenders to the warmth of harlon's skin against his does the mind - numbing chaos dissipate . ❝ i don't ... want it to stop , harlon . ❞ his name is more than an utterance , for it spilled from his lips like a prayer . a sacred covenant they have shared only amongst themselves . for a moment , the shroud of pride and glory reveals beneath it a look that , as far as the court is concerned does not exist , only revealed itself to the lord of pyke . sheer relief , and a gentle smile , fleeting and elusive , soon transforms into a smirk . ❝ there are still many things to discuss about trade routes after all . ❞ brief as it may be , his body does not betray him , hand holding that of harlon's tightly , refusing ... unable to let go . as if his is no longer just one entity , but joint with the other .
