Epilogue

IT HAD BEENa few weeks since the attack, but at times March still felt as though he were looking at a stranger's reflection in the mirror. The bruising on the side of his face was mostly faded, but in the right lighting there was still a yellowish cast along his cheek and temple. Dragging his finger lightly along the discoloration, he sighed. On top of that, he'd been plagued with dreams of arrows and eyeballs and blood through the night, and it showed in the purple shadows beneath his eyes. A lovely combination of disfigurements for the evening he was expected to stand up in front of a ballroom of aristocrats while Beritz announced his engagement to Neroki.

March's eyes darted to the movement in the mirror's reflection as his prince entered the room behind him. Neroki stared for a moment, then with a light shake of his head, came up behind the noble, wrapping arms around his slender waist.

"Stop obsessing. You look beautiful. No one in their right mind would think otherwise."

"From the neck down, perhaps," March conceded, smoothing his hands down the royal doublet he'd chosen for the event. The pure, snowy white complimented his dark hair and eyes, and the royal Aracovin crest embroidered into the chest pocket made him feel particularly regal. It wasn't trendy and it wouldn't push any envelopes, but he wouldn't want to give any of his future subjects the impression that he had any sort of head for fashion anyway.

Neroki, on the other hand, looked at home as always in his effortless sort of style. Though he wore black as usual, tonight his buckles gleamed with silver, as did the buttons on the coat that fit across his shoulders without so much as a single wrinkle, and the rings he wore on various fingers across both hands.

"From what I can see, there isn't much room for improvement from the neck up, either," Nero said, pressing a gentle kiss to the paling marks on the noble's pretty face. He wished the image of March with Terin's hands around his throat would fade from his brain as easily as the bruises were.

"Don't start," March warned, swatting his fiancé's hands away from the slim belt that encircled his waist. "Most of the guests have already arrived, so we should be heading over now."

"One of the benefits to being a royal is that you're entitled to arrive fashionably late to these things. You should learn that now, sweetheart."

"I don't think the fashionably late rule applies to your own engagement party. Next you'll want us to be late to the wedding."

"You have so much to learn," Nero clucked his tongue mockingly, fingers deftly loosening the buckle at March's waist so he could slide his fingers under the fitted shirt to the warm flesh beneath.

"But I just got dressed," March complained, though his struggles were clearly and blatantly only half-hearted as Neroki's mouth pressed to his neck.

"So it'll be that much easier the second time," Nero reasoned, turning the raven-haired male's body so they faced each other. "I'll make you a deal. Cooperate with me now, and I won't try to pull you into an abandoned staircase or an empty coat room and have my way with you for the duration of the entire party."

"As if I would ever let you have your way with me on a staircase."

"I don't know," the prince considered, lips curving at March's sharp intake of breath as he nuzzled the sensitive spot just below his ear. "I'm starting to figure out all of your triggers."

"Well, I…" Struggling to remember why he'd been protesting from the start, March let himself be pressed back against the counter. "If we can be quick…" Nero's teeth nipped at his throat, just over where his pulse was rampaging, once again destroying his train of thought.

"Quick," Nero acknowledged agreeably. "Absolutely. I c-" Firm, quick knocks on the door across the room had his hands curling into fists on March's hips and a growl escaping from his lips. "Somebody better be dying."

"Don't say that," March scolded, a bit breathlessly. He wiggled out of Nero's arms, barely managing to reattach the slim buckled leather around his waist before Neroki's bedroom door creaked open, Cedar's head poking in cautiously.

"Oh, good, you're in here." He looked harassed, breathing a sigh of relief at the sight of the couple. Before either of them could ask about the cause of the obvious stress, the door slammed open the rest of the way, revealing Myca as well. Lifting an official-looking black case in one of his hands, he pranced into the bedroom.

"Don't worry," the younger Cesari sibling crooned as he approached them. "I'm here to save you from the nightmare of the human condition." Plopping the heavy case onto their bed, he unzipped it to reveal various jars and tubes of cosmetics.

"You're going to put that stuff on March?" Nero asked, sounding amused.

"Nothing fun," Myca assured him, rifling through brushes. "Just covering up the bruising."

"Why don't you want anything fun?" Nero asked, grinning when March gave him a dry look.

"Myca's idea of fun would be to leave me looking like I work at a brothel or a circus."

"Relax," Myca sighed. "I won't mess with you on a night like this. Anyway, I'm trying to convince Mom and Motra to let me go to cosmetology school, so this is going to help me show them I'm taking it seriously."

"Cosmetology school?" March echoed, giving him an odd look. "You mean after you go to finishing school?"

Rolling his eyes toward the ceiling, Myca shook his head. "God, you sound just like them."

"Well, you have opportunities now that I didn't have. You can stay here and go to the finishing academy that Neroki went to," March pointed out wistfully. Part of him wanted to be bitter that he hadn't been able to do that, but it seemed in the long run it hadn't mattered all that much. He was engaged to the future leader of Ikronia, and his children would have all the privilege and advantages in the world.

"I don't care about any of that crap, I just want to start working," Myca said firmly, untwisting the cap on a small pot.

As they began to lightly bicker in the way that only siblings can, Nero nudged his elbow into Cedar's side, leading him toward the door.

"We're just going to step outside for a minute," the prince announced, closing the door to leave the two of them alone.

On the balcony across from the entrance to his room, Nero pushed a half-empty pack of cigarettes into Cedar's hand, who gratefully lit one. When he tried to pass it back to the prince, Nero shook his head.

"Can't. March wants me to quit. You can just keep the rest of those."

"It really weirds me out when you say stuff like that."

Chuckling, Nero gave a lazy stretch before leaning his forearms onto the marble railing. "Is it weird for me to do what's going to make my fiancé happy?"

"It's weird for you to care about making someone else happy."

"I love him."

"I can see that. I just need to get used to it."

"Nothing's really going to change," Nero assured him. "Just that he'll be around. You don't have a problem with him, right?"

"I don't," Cedar answered honestly. "It's just…" He inhaled deeply, letting his breath out slowly, before shaking his head. "Never mind."

"Just say it."

"It's just that after what happened with Noah, and then with Laurel and Malory… I think I just wanted everything to stay like it is. Just us, without any new people. But I know that's stupid, so…"

Surprised, Nero paused for a bit to consider. It was rare for Cedar to bring up Noah, his ex-fiancé who he'd caught with someone else only weeks before their wedding was meant to happen. It was especially jarring to hear him mention Malory, Laurel's aggressive, psychotic ex who they all tried their absolute best to never think about.

"I'm not saying March is like them or that it's going to end up like that," he clarified quickly, before Nero could respond. "I guess I just don't want things to change anymore."

"Some change is good," Nero said. Cedar tilted his head in acknowledgment but didn't say anything else. Comfortable in the silence between them, the prince waited for his companion to finish smoking before speaking again. "Myca is… interesting, isn't he?"

Much to his dismay, Cedar felt his face heat at the question. He despised showing embarrassment. "I don't know what you mean."

"Please," Nero snorted. "I saw your face when you came into my room. You couldn't pry him off fast enough."

"He told me my eyeliner is hot and asked what kind of guys I like."

"You think he's cute?"

"He's a kid," Cedar replied flatly, glaring in another direction to avoid Nero's line of sight. "You're sick."

Laughing, Nero shook his head. "I'm just messing with you. Come on, let's go see if they're done. Don't worry about Myca, he's harmless."

"Easy for you to say," Cedar muttered, but followed him nonetheless.

Back in the room, Nero marveled at the way March's bruising seemed to have disappeared. The dark smudges that had been peeking out from beneath his lower lashes were brightened, highlighting the beauty of his eyes.

"Very impressive, Myca," he remarked, tilting the noble's chin this way and that to look under different lighting. "Though you look perfect no matter what," Nero said, giving March's lips a quick little stroke with his thumb before pulling his hand away.

"I suppose I do look like I've had a full night's sleep," March admitted. As nerve-wracking as the idea of being assessed by so many high-ranking noble families was, at least he wouldn't have to worry about looking so uncharacteristically unkempt.

"Pay me back by telling our parents that they should let me skip finishing school," Myca suggested, packing a few brushes back into his little suitcase before zipping it closed.

Looking uncertain, March sighed. "I don't know…"

"Look, don't take this the wrong way," he started, heaving the luggage up to hug against his chest. "But I don't plan on marrying the first perv that has the balls to ask me. No offense," he added, glancing up to Nero, who snorted.

"None taken."

Groaning lightly at his younger brother's vulgar terminology, March turned toward Nero and Cedar. "What do the two of you think?"

Nero shrugged a shoulder, considering. "I know a lot of people who don't care about schooling. But to be fair," he added, "I don't know how the average family thinks about it. Maybe it would make things harder for you," he added, glancing to Myca.

"But if he really doesn't care about getting hooked up with somebody in a highborn family, then it doesn't exactly matter if he knows any of that stuff, does it?" Cedar reasoned. When Myca gratefully looked over to the tattooed brunette, giving him a small smile, Cedar found that he had to avert his gaze to be comfortable.

"Fine," March relented. "I'll think about it. But I can't make any promises."

"Yeah, yeah," Myca griped. "Just remember that you already, like, honored our family or whatever so take that out of the equation for me." Opening the door, he propped it open with his hip as he wiggled his fingers in a farewell gesture. "I'm heading back, so I'll see you in there."

It only took a few more minutes for the three of them to start making their way out across the castle to the ballroom where the party was being held as well.

"Is everything okay, Cedar?" March questioned. "I meant to ask when you came in."

"Oh, yeah, fine. Your brother needed someone to show him how to get to you, so… You look great, by the way." Shoving his hands in his pockets as he hastily changed the subject, Cedar eyed the future husband of his best friend. "Very regal."

Because Cedar's compliment echoed his intention, March felt a smile spread on his face. "That's nice of you to say."

As they walked the halls at a brisk pace, March took a deep breath, reminding himself that the brunette was Neroki's best friend, and that he should try to be comfortable around him. "Was Myca bothering you?" He guessed, sighing exasperatedly when Cedar cleared his throat, looking uncomfortable. "Sorry about that. He can be annoying, I know."

"Ah, no. It's not that. He's, uh…"

Nero snorted knowingly, trying to conceal a laugh before taking pity on Cedar. He'd always gotten flustered easily when it came to flirtations. He imagined the straight-forward bluntness of March's younger brother had agitated him in a way he likely wasn't used to. "Don't worry about it, sweetheart. Just focus on the speech you're going to make when my father announces you as my fiancé."

"Speech!?" March cried out, giving him a horrified look. "You never said anything about that!"

"I'm kidding." Hooking an arm comfortably around the noble's waist, he kissed him on the cheek. "You just have to stand there and look pretty. Until after the wedding, anyway."

Immediately and predictably distracted from the previous conversation by the thought, March gave a nod. "I know. I'll have it all figured out by then."

"You always do."

THE MASSIVE ROOMwas filled already when they arrived, with guests and music and glamour. Though March didn't recognize most of the attendees, he tried to remind himself that he was somewhat of a celebrity now, and that their admiration and envy was mostly normal. When Beritz made his announcement, he did his best to invoke an expression he hoped was befitting of a crown prince's betrothed. To his relief, most of the faces in the crowd seemed endeared to him, and without much judgment or displeasure.

It was traditional for the prince or princess to share a dance with their new affianced. March knew it very well, had already been warned by Neroki, and had been mentally preparing for days. It wasn't that he didn't know how to dance, or that he didn't want to dance with the prince, exactly. But he'd imagined the eyes of everyone in the room boring into him, and the thought was incredibly unpleasant.

But to his surprise, when he was led out to the center of the floor, it felt very much like when he'd been kissed for the first time. The shimmering lights and elegant notes from the band seemed very dim, and very quiet as Neroki gave him a small bow, then took his hand so they were palm to palm.

He shouldn't have been surprised that the prince was a rather graceful dancer. It seemed the man excelled in any activity that involved physical contact and could be utilized in the art of seduction. Still, he found himself transfixed by Neroki's gaze, unable to tear his eyes away while his feet felt as if they were floating over the polished floor.

It was over quickly, much sooner than March had prepared to suffer through. Struggling with the realization that he was slightly disappointed for it to be over, but relieved to be allowed to leave the spotlight, he couldn't help but smile when Neroki leaned close to him, murmuring in his ear.

"Don't worry. I'll dance with you again tonight, in our room."

Our room, March thought, wondering how his heart could beat so madly at such a simple phrase. It was absurd to feel shy, but he could feel himself flushing as the prince led him off the floor.

"I already know what kind of dancing you'll want to do tonight, and I doubt any of it would be like what we've just done."

Smirking, Nero tilted his head. "I could probably be convinced to humor you with a few dances of the clothed, vertical kind."

The prince stepped away to grab a pair of champagne-filled glasses for them, but by the time he returned, he found March surrounded by his family, and Beritz.

"You look lovely," Amalie told him, holding him close to her body, stroking a hand down his soft, dark locks. Blinking back tears, she tried not to think about how seldomly she would get to do so now that he'd be living at the castle.

"So do you," he answered honestly, then frowned when he heard her sniffle. "You know you can come see me whenever you want. And I'll come see you. You could take trips out sometimes, and stay for a weekend. Or a holiday," he added, guilty when she dabbed a cloth at her eyes, giving him a light smile through her tears.

"I know, honey. Of course we will. And when I retire… Well, we could even look into moving closer."

Roman stepped up, hugging both of them, before raising her gaze to Nero. Though her eyes still held a touch of the frost he'd gotten accustomed to, her voice was less distant than he remembered it.

"Thank you, Your Highness, for the bravery you showed in finding my son when he was taken. I'm eternally grateful to you for protecting him."

Recognizing a chink in the armor, the prince bowed his head a bit. "Just Nero, please. There's no need for gratitude. I love March. I'd do anything to protect him."

Softening a bit, she gave him a slight nod. "Nero, then."

Figuring that was the best he could hope for under the circumstances, he gave her a small smile. Backing off a bit to give March some time alone with his parents, he bumped into Beritz, who clapped him on the shoulder.

"Congratulations, boy."

"Thanks." Closing his eyes, Nero let himself be squeezed by his bear of a father. "I'm sure you're pretty pleased with yourself."

Leaning back to look into his son's eyes, Beritz gave him a smirk. "I'm just glad you're showing some sense for once in your spoiled life. I never knew it would give me such a thrill to see you like this."

"Since it's my engagement party, and I'm feeling charitable, I'll give you another one," Nero said, amused when Beritz' eyebrows raised. "You were right. I was wrong. You knew what I needed, and I didn't have a clue. So thank you, for everything."

"Enough with all that. You'll have me weeping into my whiskey in a minute."

Grinning, the prince contemplated leaving it at that, but eventually shook his head. "If I turn out to be half as good of a man as you, and half as good of a king, then I won't have anything to ever feel guilty about."

It wasn't often Beritz thought of the independent, outspoken woman he'd loved so fiercely, and had created Nero with. After all, he'd been without her so many times longer than he'd been with her. "Your mother would be so proud of you." And with that, the king wandered off to find a friend to toast with. Or a corner to quietly cry into.

Watching him lumber off, Nero took a deep breath, then turned in surprise when he felt one of the drinks he'd procured for himself and March being tugged out of his hand.

"Your motra is going to kill me if she sees you doing that, you know."

Myca tossed back the expensive drink, putting the empty flute back into Nero's hand. "I turned 16 last week. And anyway, they're too distracted doting over March to look over here."

The legal drinking age in Kesmos may have been 16, but in Ikronia it was 19. However, Nero decided he would have felt like a hypocrite mentioning it, considering when he'd started. "Sounds like you're used to it," he observed, taking a sip from his own.

"He's high maintenance. I'm not. It works out." Myca gave a shrug, unbothered by the arrangement. "Anyway, I'm going to take advantage of it while I can. Now that you're yanking March out of their lives, I'm all they have left to fuss over. You're kind of screwing me, you know?"

"You can always come here if you want a break, when you're off school for the winter. Or whenever."

"Really?"

Marveling at how adolescent he looked in that moment, Nero gave a casual nod. "I could teach you to ride dragons. We'd have fun."

"That would be cool," Myca said, hoping he didn't sound too excited. "As long as you don't think I'd get on your nerves or whatever."

"Nah."

They were quiet for a few moments, comfortable in the silence between them before Myca spoke again. "Your friend, Cedar, is really cute. Is he with anybody?"

Raising a brow, Nero couldn't help the grin that tugged up the corner of his mouth, as the youthful innocence that had radiated from the teenager's eyes evaporated. "Not that I know of. Happy belated birthday, by the way."

Flicking his impish eyes back up to Nero's, Myca's mischievous smile mirrored his. "Thanks."

WITH THE MOONhigh in the sky above them, and the nerves of the party long behind him, March leaned his head on Neroki's shoulder. Too nice of a night to pile into the cellar usually reserved for them, the six of them sat in a loose circle in the woods behind the castle. As usual, bottles of alcohol sat in their center, and a roll of smoldering loveleaf was being passed around. For himself, he'd become more comfortable in the presence of their indulgences, but March couldn't imagine willingly inhaling something that would alter his state of mind, even if only a little. He noticed that Laurel was also abstaining now, and thought that was a good sign for the blonde male.

"I still can't believe you're the first of us to actually settle down, Nero." Ingrid shook her head in disbelief. "Not that I can blame you or anything," she added, wiggling her eyebrows in March's direction. "Oh!" She realized belatedly, glancing guiltily in Cedar's direction. "I mean, except… I mean for real, you know? Sorry," she added, wrinkling her nose.

"Don't worry about it," Cedar waved it off, knowing Ingrid would slice her tongue in half before deliberately hurting his feelings. "Everybody already knows I'm jilted. Let's just pretend this is the first engagement of the group."

"Cheers," Ramor added, hoping to squash the speck of tension before it could take root, followed by the sound of clinking glasses. "Not feeling up to it, angel?" He asked, when March abstained from the toast.

"I've already had a few," the raven-haired male answered sheepishly. "Wouldn't want you to have to carry me back up to my room again. Well, Nero's room, now. Our room," he clarified.

"Not exactly a hardship," Ramor grinned, but gave a nod. "But I understand."

"Why exactly do you call him angel, again? I don't think I ever asked," Cedar piped up, tilting his head. March and Ramor glanced at each other in amusement, before March cleared his throat. He was fairly certain Laurel hadn't come clean about writing Ramor the note yet.

"Don't worry about it," March said. "It's a long story." Because he'd noticed that the blonde looked healthier, and calmer, than any of the times he'd seen him before, the pretty noble waited until everyone else started chatting amongst themselves before leaning in close to the sorcerer. "How are you feeling?"

"You're the one that got his head bludgeoned, not me."

Used now to the way Laurel butted up against any form of nicety, March only smiled. "Are you liking therapy?"

Shrugging a shoulder, the blonde gave a non-committal hum. "It's fine so far, I guess. It doesn't work overnight. Or that's what she keeps telling me, anyway."

"Any luck finding anything to help suppress the, um, accidents?" March asked. He, Neroki, and Ingrid had all been researching it, but so far they'd come up with nothing.

"Sort of," Laurel admitted. "We just found out today about a class of healer whose powers revolve around subduing other types of magic. There might be something there, but we'll have to look into it more."

"That's great," March replied enthusiastically. When Laurel gave him a rather dry look, he knew that the blonde's limit for polite conversation had been reached. He hoped he could, eventually, coax a more forgiving maximum limit out of the man, but for now he'd take what he could get.

After a bit more time had passed and everyone was comfortably socializing amongst themselves, March took a deep breath. There was an urge building up in him, but the thought of actually going through with it had his stomach in knots. Wishing he'd given in to another glass of champagne, he nervously cleared his throat.

"There's, um, something I want to say." Projecting his voice as much as he dared, March was both relieved and slightly horrified when everyone's eyes shifted to him. They all looked surprised, and he was certain it was because he'd never asked for their attention before. But if he was to be the husband of the crown prince, then he would need to get more comfortable with public speaking, among so many other things.

"I just wanted to say that I'm really grateful to all of you for… For welcoming me. I know that I'm probably not the kind of person you imagined Neroki ending up with, or that you'd be friends with, but I'm honored that you're all giving me a chance even if I'm not the best at this."

"Not the best at this," Laurel repeated wryly, making air quotes with his fingers as he repeated the phrase. "The only reason we didn't imagine Neroki with someone like you is because none of us could imagine him marrying anyone."

Tilting his head in acknowledgment of the statement, Cedar cleared his throat. "That being said, it's obvious he's crazy for you."

"The really shocking part is that you actually seem to like him as well," Ramor added.

"Basically, what we're trying to say is that you might be too good for this guy," Ingrid finished, jerking her chin toward Nero.

"Alright, alright," Nero groused, though he was grinning as he shook his head. "Don't make him change his mind."

Hugely relieved that Neroki's friends felt comfortable joking with him, March couldn't help but smile at their comments. But as the prince leaned in to him to give him a kiss on the cheek, he thought that there was absolutely nothing that could ever make him change his mind.

"YOU'RE SO PRETTYwhen you're taking my cock."

The words affecting him just as Nero had known they would, March let out a loud whimper. The prince's hips bucked into him with short, hard snaps of motion, passing over his prostate each time, so that he was a moaning, quivering mess.

"You want to come for me, don't you?"

Balanced on his knees with his hands braced on the iron headboard, March did his best to nod vigorously enough to show his answer.

"You know I want to hear you say it," Nero purred out, bringing his thrusts to a stop, insanely turned on by March's needy whine, and how the raven-haired male pushed back against him, begging to be filled again.

Squeezing his eyes closed, March shivered with desperation. He was so close. "I want to come for you."

"Good boy." Sliding his hands down from where he'd been gripping March's waist, Nero dug his fingers into the soft curves of the noble's perfect ass as he began pounding him again. "And I'm the only one that can make you feel like this, right?"

"Yes, yes," March panted out, knuckles paling as he clutched at the headboard. "I only want you."

"Your voice drives me wild. You sound so hot like this."

With only a few more thrusts, March's orgasm was like an electric current pulsing through him, tensing all of his muscles as he cried out. The intense sparks of pleasure drew on and on as Neroki's words echoed in his head. Before the sensations were even finished crashing over him, Nero was following behind him, letting out a satisfied moan as he came.

March sighed, exhausted, as the aftereffect of the strong climax wore off. Part of him was still embarrassed by voicing his needs out loud during sex, but Neroki was always so affectionate and full of praise after, he couldn't help but comply.

While his heart slowed to a normal pace, March twisted around, nuzzling into his prince's neck, where the pulse pounded a similar beat. Nero smiled, stroking a hand down the noble's soft hair, murmuring little endearments to him.

Even a fairly short time earlier, March would have wondered if Neroki felt as sated, as completely and thoroughly fulfilled as he did. He'd even gone so far as to ask once, only resulting in the prince staring at him as if he were speaking a different language entirely. But he no longer felt the pang of insecurity that he once had. Finding the strength, somehow, he managed to shift enough to tuck into his favored spot between Neroki's arm and chest.

"I saw you drinking champagne with Myca tonight, you know."

"Hey, seems like he can handle his liquor better than you," Nero responded teasingly, wincing lightly when March pinched him.

"He's too young to indulge in that sort of thing."

"Not everybody glides along the path of straight and narrow like you," Nero reminded him. "I didn't turn out so bad, right?" When March only hummed, he smirked, tilting the noble's face up to his for a deep, bone-melting kiss. "Obviously I have some good qualities, or you probably wouldn't let me do that to you."

Lips tingling, March drew absent circles on Neroki's chest with his fingertips as he pondered. "Still… I'm supposed to look out for him."

"You're right," Nero agreed. "But think of it like this. He's going to do what he wants anyway, right? It's better if we keep him around us so he doesn't get into any real trouble. I told him he could come stay over the winter, if he wants to. I hope you don't mind."

Every time he thought he could no longer be surprised by the depth of his feelings for the ardent prince, it seemed he was proven wrong. Turning his face into Neroki's throat, March squeezed him as tightly as he could. "Of course I don't mind."

Pleased, Nero gave him a light pat on the hip. "Anyway, if I can't keep one teenager out of trouble, I have no hope of becoming a good vatra."

"You'll be wonderful at it," March murmured, feeling only slightly foolish at the rush of sentimentality. "You're so considerate when you want to be. And thoughtful. And you make me feel so safe."

Cocking a brow, Nero lifted March's chin so he could look into his prismatic eyes, surprised to see them swimming. The sight humbled him, but he knew his fiancé well enough now to know that bringing it up would only embarrass the raven-haired male. "Go on."

With a laugh that was half sob, March buried his face again, shaking his head. "I just love you so much. Too much, I think."

"Just remember that the next time I inevitably screw something up. Remember how much I love you, too."

"I couldn't forget, Neroki. All I want is to be yours, and for you to be mine."

"You are. I am."

Suddenly bursting with energy, aching muscles long forgotten, March rose over him, dark hair sheened with pale moonlight from the window, to show his prince how completely and utterly true those words were.