Chapter Four

Remus caught an unfamiliar voice downstairs just as Sébastien lifted his head from the blanket. Milly must have let someone in.

“Nobody’s supposed to be here this early.” Remus withdrew his cock.

“Fuck them. I’m not going down right this second.” Sébastien pulled the drying sheet from under him and tossed it on the floor before he stretched out on his back.

Neither was Remus. Not when Sébastien was naked, and they were both enjoying the afterglow. Remus grasped his hips and dragged his tongue along Sébastien’s softening cock to catch a rivulet of cum that had dribbled down the side. Sébastien drew in a breath at the sensitivity.

Remus stretched out beside him and closed his eyes. Milly wasn’t calling for them, so it couldn’t be that important.

Sébastien moved to get something from his bedside table, and Remus caught the whiffy of fruity tobacco smoke before Sébastien straddled him with the cig tucked in one corner of his mouth.

“Are you going to be able to sit through petitions?”

Sébastien smirked at him with hair all mussed from Remus’s earlier grabbing. “My rear isn’t made of glass.”

“It’s pretty red.” Remus stroked his hip. “Your morning spanking seems to energize you.”

Sébastien took a drag from the cig and tapped it over the ashtray he’d set on the bed. “It was a fun way to start my day.”

“Maybe your ass is also toughening up a bit.”

Remus loved the real smile Sébastien gave him. “Does that mean you’ll give me the belt again?”

“If you want.”

“I mean, not right this second.”

Remus chuckled. “I don’t think you’d be able to sit at all after a second spanking.”

“Do you want a cig?”

“Nah. I’m surprised you’re smoking so early.”

“I read in a book that a cig tastes better after sex, so I figured I’d test it.” Sébastien took a drag and blew away the smoke with a thoughtful expression. “They weren’t wrong.”

“I’ll take your word for it.”

Sébastien finished his cig and finally headed into the privy room. Remus watched his perfect little ass disappear. Sébastien had nearly finished bathing by the time he dragged himself out of bed. The day had to start for real at some point.

When Remus finished his morning tasks and finally went downstairs, Sébastien had already gone down.

“Your Majesty.” Milly appeared in the dining room doorway with a frown. “Someone dropped off a crate, and I told them to set it out back by the door. I know you have petitioners coming soon, and I wasn’t sure if Sébastien wanted it left in the sitting room. It’s a bit big. Er, he’s quite furious now…not at me.”

She let him pass into the dining room. “Why? What’s in the crate?”

“I’m not sure. The cart driver said it was mementos, and he’d been told to take it here. He wasn’t sure what everything was. I’m guessing there might be old portraits from Arquous.”

“Fuck.”

Sébastien must have opened it and received a shock. Remus could imagine what mementos were inside. When he hurried into the kitchen, he heard a snap from outside. Through the open back door, he caught sight of Sébastie on a patch of dirt by the fence. Fire flickered around his right hand as he threw more on the already burning item he’d tossed down. Whisper watched from a safe distance with a befuddled expression.

The large crate had leather straps on the side to make it easier for someone to lift, and the lid was open. A dust cloth lay abandoned on the ground.

“Uh, Sébastien?”

He turned and clenched his fists as the fire in his hand went out, and the mangled portrait burned in the dirt. Sébastien must have stomped on the frame to break it. “It’s from Arquous.”

“Was that a portrait of Corentin?” Remus noticed a folded piece sticking out from between two wrapped items, and he plucked it out.

“It was the first thing I saw when I opened the crate. His fucking face smiling like he’d never had a single wrong thought in his mind.”

The cloth to cover it must have shifted during the trip or while being unloaded. Remus’s gut clenched as he scanned the note. Seeing Corentin’s face first thing in the morning would be beyond unsettling. When he approached Sébastien, the canvas of the painting was twisted and burning, but a bit of Sébastien’s white, silver-tinted hair was noticeable along with just enough of a face to be recognizable. It had been a portrait of Sébastien and Uncle.

“Like I’d want anything with his fucking face on it,” snarled Sébastien. “I was twelve in that one, and he had to keep his arm around me. Now I can guess what he was thinking about me the whole time. The servants at Arquous are fucking sick-” He kicked at a piece of the frame, and sparks skittered across the dirt.

The Regent had already been touching his nephew at that age in a way that wouldn’t seem sexual or harmful in a twelve-year-old’s innocent mind.

“I’m sorry. I don’t think they meant it like that-”

“I’m burning every single portrait with him in it-”

“Wait.” Remus gently pinched his coat sleeve and held up the letter. “It says they packed up what few things were left in the attic and sent it over because they figured you’d have nothing. All of the paintings in the Palace are gone now-”

“The last thing I want to do is wake up every morning and see his face. He’s dead, and even though I have nothing from the Palace, at least I don’t have to look at him. The whole damn Kingdom knows what he did, so those servants can't play dumb.”

“There are family portraits in there.”

“With him in it! I think you’d know that I don’t want anything with or from that piece of shit.”

“I’d certainly never expect you to look at that bastard’s face every day. I don’t think they sent this to give you a nasty surprise. The servants just packed up whatever had been left in the attic, and they sent it over so you can do whatever you want with it. They probably didn’t feel right about throwing out things that belong to you.”

Sébastien pulled his arm away to head for the crate. “I’m burning every single one with him.”

Remus followed him. “What if you could have him erased from the family portraits?” That made Sébastien pause. “A good artist could fix them so it’d be like he wasn’t there, and then, if you wanted, you could hang them up. I know you’re mad now, and you want to destroy those things, but you might be glad later to have portraits with everyone else. If seeing the rest is too difficult, you could put them away.”

Sébastien stared at the side of the crate as he seemed to consider Remus’s words.

“Wherever we go later, I want to put up a few of my parents, and you might want to see yours too instead of just mine.”

“Some won’t look that great with an empty spot,” said Sébastien.

“But you’ll have the rest of your family to look at. Even if you decide you don’t want them hanging, you could at least look at them later. Besides, an artist might be able to restretch the canvas on them and make it look a bit different if Corentin was on the end.”

“All right-maybe.”

“Do you want me to go through them and find any without him?” Remus asked as Whisper went to Sébastien to get his neck patted.

“No. I can do it myself. It’s okay, boy.” Whisper nosed at Sébastien's shoulder.

He was still snappy, but he didn’t seem to mind Remus’s presence when he reached into the crate. It was packed pretty tightly with the cloth-wrapped paintings, and rags had been stuffed in the corners to keep them from shifting. If paintings were stored anywhere, they were typically wrapped to prevent fading or scratches if they were moved.

When they’d moved from Arquous to Belle ?me, servants must have simply hung art roughly wherever it had gone before. Maxime had shown Remus several up in one of the Palace attic rooms, and he’d said they’d been in Sébastien’s rooms before he’d had them put away. Remus had thought the lack of anything on his room walls was a little odd. It made sense later.

“They didn’t take everything when you moved?” Remus asked as Sébastien pulled out rags to drop in a pile.

“No. Honestly, I think some of it was simply forgotten. We changed around a few portraits over the years and put older ones in the attic room. I guess no one remembered them when we left Arquous.”

Nothing sentimental of Sébastien’s had been rescued from the rubble of the Palace. He pulled out a large portrait of the family and unwrapped it. Sébastien barely looked two, and he was sitting on his Mother’s lap. The artist had done a good job since toddlers don’t like to sit still. Corentin was to one side.

“I can’t really remember now, but there might be one…the artist was a traveling one, and Father paid him…” Sébastien trailed off and flipped through the covered canvases as he felt the edges.

He suddenly pulled one out and revealed it. The edges of the frame were raised and scalloped. The dull bronze was rather ugly to Remus. Sébastien leaned that work against the crate and stepped back.

“I’d hang this one up. Maybe not right now…”

Corentin wasn’t in it.

“How old were you?” asked Remus. Sébastien had always looked younger than he was in the few he’d seen before.

“Eight. I know I was a bit small. Corentin went on a trip to see a friend somewhere. Elira knew what he did on that holiday. Anyway, the traveler offered to paint us, and Father agreed. I only vaguely remember sitting for this one over a few days, and Mother kept telling me not to fidget. My collar was itchy.”

Remus had seen better quality, but it was good enough. Everyone was lined up according to status on a long couch and dressed as expected for court. Sébastien was in bright green. Remus could imagine the artist saying they were done for the day and him sliding off the couch to run and play after being forced to sit still for so long.

“You were a cute kid.” Remus draped an arm around him to squeeze his shoulders.

“I’d like to see what you looked like as a child.”

“Like I ate a courtier’s kid.” Sébastien’s lip twitched at that comment. “Just kidding. I wasn’t that big. The real growth spurts didn’t come until I was around eleven and twelve. Father thought Quintus and I were about to eat us out of house and home.”

Sébastien leaned the painting near the door, and Milly dared to peek out. “Your Majesty-”

“Sébastien. You don’t have to call us that.”

“It takes getting used to. Sébastien, I’m not sure if you want me to make breakfast. The water for your tea is getting cold. The oats are cooking, but they need a little more time. If you're busy…”

“I’ll be fine with oats when I come in. I don’t feel like eggs or anything else. Make Remus whatever he wants.”

“Just oatmeal is fine.”

Sébastien checked everything in the box. One was of just him and his brothers when he was four. Another of him at seven and sitting on Uncle’s lap was almost thrown into the yard, and Whisper pulled his lips back like he was going to bite the edge.

“Wait!” Remus managed to get the small work from him. “This would be an easy one to erase him. Then it would just be you.”

The background was a simple, hazy grey so the focus was just them two. With the background continued on top of Corentin, it’d be Sébastien from the waist up.

“Fine.” Sébastien relented and removed the last two to prop them against the crate.

Margot couldn’t have been more than eighteen or nineteen, and she was sitting in a chair by a window, all prim and proper in silk. The artist had done well in capturing the light on her silver shawl plus the delicate silver necklace she’d been wearing. Her hair, almost exactly like Sébastien’s, except much longer, had been left loose. She had the same silver eyes that looked somewhere outside.

In the second, she was older, seated in a cushioned armchair, and holding a sleeping baby Sébastien swaddled in a blanket. A little tuft of white hair that matched hers stuck up from his head, and she was looking down at him like nothing mattered more.

“Your Mother was beautiful,” said Remus.

Sébastien’s eyes grew glassy. “I miss her.” His breathing hitched when Remus hugged him.

“Do you want to hang that one up today?”

Sébastien hesitated. Maybe it’d be too hard to look at her, younger and unaware of anything in the future. She’d likely imagined seeing Enzo take the throne one day, spoiling whatever grandchildren her sons gave her, and growing old with Jean. She’d been the unwitting shield between her youngest son and the snake quietly living in their home.

“I want them in the sitting room downstairs,” Sébastien said in a small voice.

“We’ll do it after breakfast, all right? I’ll go to the guardhouse and see if they got a hammer and a couple of nails.”

“Thanks, Remus.”

The only thing left was a small bag that clanked when Sébastien removed it. The inside was filled with miniatures. He didn’t know the woman who was on the ivory disk he first pulled out. The name on the back meant nothing to him either, and it wasn’t dated. A friend of Margot from her days as a teenager?

The rest were of the family. Miniatures can be done quite quickly, and some artists use typical portraits to recreate them. Sébastien let out a small laugh as he showed one to Remus.

“I can’t believe I forgot this. I think I was six or seven. An older girl at court did it as a surprise, and her Mother was mortified when she saw it. We laughed at it.”

All three of the brothers were lined up on a piece of glass from the chest up and pulling funny faces with their tongues sticking out. Sébastien had been painted with crossed eyes.

Remus chuckled. “You should keep that.”

A couple were of his parents newly married. A few were on disks of wood and likely done by courtiers practicing their art. The Royal Family is always a popular subject. A couple were quite poorly done. Sébastien found one on a piece of glass, immediately dropped it, and smashed it with his boot. Once he’d ground it to dust, he resumed looking through the bag. Remus guessed that one had been of Corentin.

A faded, twisted bracelet of pink yarn in two shades with beads at intervals was in there.

“A friendship bracelet?” Sébastien turned it over.

“Maybe. I'd imagine that was your Mother's.”

In a silk baggie, he found a necklace. Maybe Margot had stopped wearing it, and it had been put away by accident. He wasn’t sure. Either way, it was the same one from Margot's portrait. The Goddess Elira, small and tarnished, had been engraved on an oval of silver. On the back, the initials M.C. had been carved.

Sébastien peered at the tiny Elira with her skirts moving and her arms outstretched. “I’ll have this cleaned at the silversmith to wear.” He glanced up at Remus. “If we do decide to have a child from a consort later, and we have a little girl, I’ll give it to her so she’ll have something from her Grandmother.”

Remus smiled. “I think Margot would like that.”

***

Barely a week later, Remus sat in the office. Sébastien had gone out to see the new scent shop that had opened in the city. Maxime had said they had some nice bath oils, and they needed more anyway.

They’d decided to spend summer and winter in Belle ?me. Remus wanted to see a snowy winter.

“You might change your mind if you slip on ice and bust your arse,” Sébastien had told him.

Remus still wanted to experience it, and he had months to wait for that. Next year in spring, they’d head to Biatano, set up their home there over the summer, and during the next winter, they’d live in Norraco before returning to Soleil for the summer after that. In the years to come, they’d go back and forth with the seasons with time in Biatano unless they decided otherwise.

Soleil grew warm in summer, but it wasn’t as hot and humid as Norraco. Remus didn’t mind it, and it would spare Sébastien the humidity. In winter, they wouldn’t have to worry about snow in Norraco since that was rare. They might get a dusting at most.

The lord in Biatano said he was more than ready to leave so they could have his Castle there. His health wasn’t improving, and he wanted to retire with his son’s family in Soleil. Corentin had given him the position in Midland, and he’d only accepted it because it had seemed rude to say no.

Biatano wouldn’t need a lord if Remus and Sébastien were living there a few weeks or months out of the year. They could hire a Master Steward to take care of basic things when they weren’t around, and he’d collect the rents and taxes too. Those two things would also be lowered for a year to make the Middies happy in case they got their drawers in a knot over Sébastien co-ruling with Remus.

They likely wouldn’t since they’d have a Rowland man over them too, and the Regent couldn’t make laws to hold them back.

Lord Rochefort had replied and said he’d be happy to attend their wedding.

He’d finished a reply to the lord in Biatano when he heard the front door open, a voice that sounded like a little girl, and the Prince’s faint reply.

“Uh, Sébastien?”

“Give me a minute.”