2.4k of fmf!! this is post-magical potion and pre-twins, although not by much. max takes rico to the mountains!
rico POV, mentions of mpreg (the magical potion kind), sappy domestic fluff, some kissing but nothing more
Rico grunts as he hauls himself over the ledge, sweating underneath his leathers, fur tickling his nose from the neck of his cloak. Max is waiting for him at the top, eyes curved into a smile, nose tucked under his own scarf, and any irritation that had been building as the icy rocks had dug into his palms immediately dissipates.
Max blinks, one of his odd lizard blinks that he does whenever it rains back home, or in this case— snows on the side of the mountain he's dragged Rico up to. A thin clear eyelid slides across his eyes, gaze never leaving Rico's as he spreads a hand out to gesture at the view.
"Look."
Rico gets to his feet, stepping closer to wrap an arm around Max and tuck him into his side. Max runs warmer than he does anyways, but he's wrapped up especially tight now, winreem scales across his chest and abdomen underneath his leathers, extra furs around his feet and fingers, and the scarf around his neck is a gift from Mick, soft and silvery to match his brother's own leathers.
From here, the setting sun casts a warm glow across the sky, interrupted only by the harsh jut of the mountains, dark blue and icy white sharp against the softer orange and purple of the horizon. Max has led him to an old settlement, crumbling stone foundations laying out where buildings used to stand.
When Rico looks down the mountain, he can see Max's home, stone spires rising out of the craggy rocks, amber lights flickering in the valley. It's beautiful, nestled safely in the shadows of the mountain range, and he feels Max lean into him.
He watches his breath puff into the air on front of him, visible even in the dying light.
"Why didn't anyone stay up here?"
Max lets out a soft laugh, nose still tucked into his scarf.
"The winreems come here to brood. They've been here much longer than us, it was only right that they have the first claim."
Rico nervously glances behind him, half expecting to see a piercing orange eye staring at him through the stones, or perhaps for one of the snowdrifts to rise and reveal a hulking creature intent on eating them both. Max catches his shift and laughs, nudging his elbow lightly into his side.
"Relax, Rico. They are obviously not here now."
Rico shakes off the unease and turns to stare back at the valley, questions dancing on his tongue.
"Why did you bring me here, Max?"
Max gives a soft hum, accompanied by a small shrug. He has one arm folded over his stomach, palm curling over his old wound from Saddik.
"It is tradition, from my mother's side."
He steps away from the ledge and further into the ruins of the settlement, the edge of his fur cloak brushing against the snow. Rico has known him long enough to register his tone as pensive— he's withholding something from him, tiptoeing the line of revealing it or keeping it to himself.
Back in the beginning, Rico might've pressed, uneasy at having secrets kept from him, but he's learned by now that Max doesn't withhold information for no reason. He follows behind him, pausing a few steps away when Max pauses.
"I could kill you here."
His voice is soft, puffing a soft cloud in front of him as he speaks, turning his head only slightly, barely meeting Rico's gaze with slitted pupils.
If it were anyone else, Rico's had would be on his sword by now, but it's Max, his Prince Consort, his wife. His hands stay firmly where they are, even as he feels his heart beat faster.
"Does your tradition demand that of you?"
He keeps his own voice soft in response, watching Max carefully. Max sighs, cloak brushing the snow as his shoulders sag.
"Did I ever tell you how the winreems choose a mate?"
Rico knows hardly anything about the terrifying creatures, save for the fact that they're part of Max's crest— maybe more, when he lays awake at night thinking about it.
"You've never said."
Surely if Max were taking him up here to kill him, someone would have said something. Then again, they're in Max's territory, surrounded by his own people. Any loyalty they have to Rico is held only through Max.
Max tilts his head, eyeing the ruins.
"When it comes nesting season, a winreem will choose a mate to help with eggs. That mate then provides for the season, be that food or protection."
So far, matching Rico's assumptions.
"When it comes time for the eggs to hatch, the brooding winreem judges the mate. If the mating was unacceptable, the brooding winreem kills and eats the mate for sustenance."
Rico's eyes widen, glancing again around the ruins, wondering how many snowbanks contain winreem bones around them. Max huffs a small laugh, turning fully towards him, pupils still slitted.
"Obviously, eating people is barbaric. No one does that anymore."
He steps closer, gaze locked with Rico's, unblinking.
"I love you, Rico. But if I suspect you cannot provide..."
He reaches up, adjusting the clasp of Rico's cloak, gloved fingers brushing against his throat.
"I will bring you here. And I will kill you."
It takes a moment for the implications to settle, but he feels his heart stop when they do, mouth parting soundlessly.
The arm across his stomach, the casual avoidance of too much drink at dinner, bringing Rico to an ancestral brooding site—
Rico had suspected, maybe even hoped, but he hadn't been willing to bring it up until Max was ready. His hands find Max's waist, pulling him closer so he can press a tender kiss to his forehead.
"If I ever fail you or our— our family,"
One of his palms slides to rest across his abdomen, hardly daring to believe.
"I will lead the way here myself."
Max leans forward, resting his warmth against Rico, and he pulls him into a hug, arms snaking around his back. The disbelief is turning to a wondrous joy, because they hadn't even been sure if it was possible.
"How long have you known?"
He runs a hand along Max's back, speaking the words into his hair before pressing another featherlight kiss to his temple. Max leans further into him, more than content to absorb some of his warmth now that his threat has been delivered.
"A few months. I wanted—"
He pauses, breaking his gaze for a moment. Rico understands even without the finished sentence, bringing his other hand to cradle Max's face.
"You wanted to be sure. I understand."
He looks across the ruins again, a small frown forming on his face, but his voice betrays him, a teasing lilt finding its way into his words.
"So this is my grave if I find myself unable to fulfill yours and the babes whims?"
Max's mouth twitches upwards as he steps back, lifting his chin slightly. His eyes are sparkling as he uses his mocking voice for nobles— only ever used behind closed doors with Rico, usually after a terribly long day in court.
"Twenty roast ducks at the table, Your Highness, or I shall feed you to the lizards."
Rico raises his eyebrows, unable to help a smile of his own.
"Twenty? For a Prince Consort as lovely as yourself, surely even thirty would be insulting. What if you were to sacrifice the offending noble lord?"
Max takes a dancing step back across the snow, a playful taunt, an invitation for Rico to take another step forward.
"Now Verhoeven, that almost sounds like you're plotting to dispose of Lord Horner,"
His words are chiding, but only play. Rico lifts his hands in mock surrender, innocently casting his gaze at the sky.
"Far be it from me to assign a Lord most likely to be responsible for such a blunder, my love."
Max sidesteps, and he and Rico begin a casual circle, boot prints crossing over the others in the snow.
"And how many roast ducks would His Royal Highness procure? I hear he has quite the appetite— one can only imagine the babe will be the same."
Rico laughs brightly, daring to take a quick step forward. Max is grinning, hands laced behind his back as he leans forward slightly.
"The King has an appetite? Do the court rumors make no mention of his wife? If the babe gets it from anyone, it would surely be His Grace."
He's seen Max tear through food with his own eyes, he knows he's just as bad as Rico himself.
Max's mouth drops open at the accusation, and he lunges at Rico a moment later, bowling him over into the snow. Rico is careful to grab him so that he lands flat on his back, Max on top of him— he has to be even more careful now with Max, and try and do it in ways Max won't get irritated with him for.
Max's thighs straddle the side of his waist as he pokes a finger into Rico's chest.
"Rest assured, King Verhoeven, if the court is discussing my appetite, there will be plenty of offerings to feed the winreems."
Rico feels his gaze soften as he stares at Max above him. He can't see anything different yet, but now that he knows— Max has always been beautiful, but here in his mountains, secluded and private in the ruins, he's radiant.
"You're beautiful."
Max's cheeks flush even as he tucks his chin into his scarf, narrowing his eyes.
"Flattery gets you nowhere."
Rico bites back a smirk.
"It seems to have gotten you on top of me; I would hesitate to call that nowhere."
Max tries to hide an embarrassed cough under his scarf, the red spreading across his face, one hand reaching down into the snow to stabilize himself.
"Me on top of you is how we got in this situation in the first place."
Rico's hands squeeze lightly at his thighs.
"Do you see me complaining, Your Grace? In fact, I— AH—!"
He breaks off with a shrill noise as Max shoves snow down his shirt, jerking upright as he tries to shake it out to the sound of Max breaking out into loud laughter, folded in half with his hands over his face. By the time Rico has stood and disposed of the snow to the best of his abilities, Max is still sitting in the snow giggling at him.
"That is quite enough out of you,"
He lifts Max by the arms and pulls him into a kiss, one hand at the small of his back to keep him in place, drawing it out until Max is making soft pants into his mouth. Only then does he pulls back, staring at his flushed cheeks and lips. Max blinks at him for a second, getting his thoughts back in order.
"That's playing dirty."
Rico raises a brow. He's half tempted to kiss Max again, maybe see if he can really drag it out this time.
"And shoving snow down my shirt isn't?"
Max lifts his chin.
"No, no it is not."
What a beautiful, stubborn, clever, and absolutely bullheaded man. Rico couldn't imagine having married anyone else.
"Right,"
He kisses him again, walks them back carefully until Max's back is hitting stone, pulling all the moves that earn him soft noises muffled into his mouth and gloved fingers pawing at his waist. When he can feel Max start to get demanding he pulls back slightly, pressing a soft peck to his lips and noticing with no small amount of smugness how his pupils are blown.
"Now that you've threatened me successfully, can we go back down where there are fires? And warmth? Maybe even a real bed?"
It's beginning to darken, and Rico doesn't want either of them climbing down the mountain without light, especially not when Max is—
He corrects himself. Max can navigate these mountains better than Rico in any situation, but it doesn't mean he can't be nervous for him.
Max frowns at him, bewildered.
"That's it?"
Rico keeps his smugness internal.
"We're outside, in a sacred space for your ancestors. Yes, that is it."
Max's eyes narrow. He gets spectacularly irritated whenever they start something they can't finish, and Rico only messes with him like this when he knows they have the time for it.
That, and he enjoys how long Max attempts to be spiteful about it before sleeping in bed with him all the same at night.
"I never said it was sacred. Just traditional."
It's more of a grumble than a real protest, but Rico's made his mind up already, and while Max may be built for the cold more than he is, he's certainly not going to test that by stripping either of them of any layers.
"I'll make it up to you when we get back home, my love."
Max glowers at him hard enough that he's more than a little worried about getting more snow in his clothes, but he eventually relents, sighing.
"And thirty roast ducks."
Rico chokes on a laugh as they start to walk back the direction they'd arrived.
"And thirty roast ducks. Any less and I shall personally see to it that Horner is fed to one of the cavern beasts."
Max huffs, casting him a sidelong glance.
"Perhaps we consider that anyways."
He only halfway sounds like he's joking. Rico makes a mental note to start coming up with excuses in case one of the noble lords of his kingdom goes mysteriously missing.
"Maximilian."
He can't see it, but he knows Max has rolled his eyes.
"I'm only joking, Rico. When I get rid of him, it will be much more subtle than that."
"That is not half as reassuring as you mean it to be."
Max turns to grin at him over his shoulder.
"Then it's halfway more reassuring than I intended at all."
There are rumors of a cousin of Horner's who may be scheming to take control of the house— he decides it might be wise to start looking into who takes control when Horner is gone.
He watches as Max swings over the edge of the cliff, climbing down a few handholds to drop onto the ledge below.
Even when he's plotting to remove a nobleman he's endearing— Rico is beyond saving by now, if there were anything to be saved from. He swings down after Max, thankful that the rest of the path is mostly snowy trekking, and less climbing.
"Max."
Max pauses, turning back to him questioningly.
"Are you alright?"
Rico nods, stepping forward to grab one of Max's hands in both of his own.
"I will not give you a reason to bring me back here."
Max's expression gentles, and he steps closer to press a brief kiss to his lips.
"I trust you won't."