Because it's not Sunday or Wednesday but I want to post aha
I wanted to share two extracts from the same fic because I couldn't pick just one... This is from a fic I write for a fandom that is not Carry On (strange, I know) so basically this post is for my one friend who has also read Captive PrinceĀ (hi @jiksvokrat)
He attempted to say it. āAnthĆ©a?ā
The girl shook her head. āAntheia.ā
She smiled, and Nicaise felt a burst of warmth in his chest. Making his mouth form an Akielon word was not an easy feat. Especially that th in the middle of her name. His Veretian tongue simply was not made to produce such a sound. He wasnāt sure that he had said it correctly, but it had been enough for her.Ā
āAntheia,ā she said once more. Then, gesturing at him. āNikāā
It was with undeniable enjoyment that he listened to her struggle with the unfamiliar sounds too. She could not get the ai right, so his name was bastardised in her mouth. Still, he applauded her performance as if she had spoken in perfect Veretian when she said it the third time, in the least offensive way.
For a few more minutes, or maybe hours, Nicaise remained in the kitchen with Antheia, learning a few new Akielon words as he watched her work. Flour, dough, basket, rise. He left with a hesitantly repeated Veretian āGoodbyeā and a small, hot loaf of bread from the girl.
Much more important and pressing matters than a petulant child, and yet, as Laurent lay awake at night, his body tormented by the Akielon heat, his mind was tormented by Nicaise.
He had thought, naively, that knowing the boy was safe under his protection would bring him peace. He had failed to account for Nicaise's disagreeable disposition. Chaos drove him like money and sex drove most men. Laurent felt foolish not to have foreseen that he would cause trouble as soon as he arrived ā and what trouble! Bringing a man here, a stranger, and debasing himself to engaging in the same acts he was made to do as Uncleās catamite.Ā
It had been to get a rise out of Laurent, surely. Why else? His disappearance these past days must have had the very same purpose ā to anger Laurent, to drive him mad!
He rose from the bed without care to be discreet. At camp, Damenās sleep had been light, watchful; in his childhood home, he slept like the dead. Laurent was in awe of it, how his lover could feel so comfortable somewhere that he might sleep so profoundly. Nevermind that this was the very place where he was betrayed by his brother and put in chains. Too trusting, always.
