wips part 2

[nerakrose]

for length reasons, the final wip is in this second post. wip posts part one.

Fake Dating Princes, 32k

The moment André stood up to make his announcement, Julien knew he did not want to be crown prince.



The painting on the wall opposite was terrible. Its only redeeming features were the colour palette and the artist's rendition of light, although Julien was hard pressed to give it a pass on that account alone. Might make for a good essay topic eventually.


"Julien? Hello?" André was waving his fork in front of Julien's face. "What's on your mind?"


"Nothing interesting." Julien put down his own fork. "I'm sorry. Were you saying something?"


"Yes - dad and I were just discussing moving up the engagement. I want to take Chloé along to the cabin in February," André said. "I don't want to wait anymore. What do you think?"


Julien stared at him. "You mean our trip?" He looked at their father, hoping to find anything in his face that would tell him that no, of course André didn't mean their annual traditional skiing trip, he meant to take her there for a weekend by themselves, or something, anything that didn't mean infringing on their family trip - but he didn't. Their father was nodding in assent.


"Yes." André smiled, his eyes twinkling with happiness. "She's already accepted my proposal, but I'll put on a nice proposal for her, and then we'll make it official afterwards."


"I -" Julien's mouth was dry. It was strange, how quickly one's world could change, as if André had tilted him upside down and was now dangling him by the ankles above an abyss, asking if he didn't enjoy the view?


Julien did not enjoy the view.


They'd talked about this; Julien was going to take over as crown prince after André's wedding. He thought he'd been okay with it, they'd set a timeline, and he was moderately prepared for assuming André's duties, which would start following the official engagement announcement. He was going to become crown prince in André's stead. He was going to let his brother marry the woman he loved, despite the fact it would cost him his claim to the throne, even though he really, really did not want to be crown prince.


He'd thought he had time to get used to the idea.


He'd thought they'd have one last trip to the cabin, just the three of them, before Chloé became a permanent member of their family... Acutely, Julien missed his mother, and a lump was forming in his throat.


"Julien?" André was giving him his concerned look.


"I was just," Julien cleared his throat, meeting André's eyes. What happened next he couldn't entirely account for, but later he'd suspect perhaps the nain rouge had gone into him, because the words that came out of his mouth were: "I was just thinking that I wanted to bring my boyfriend. You don't mind, do you? I was going to tell you later, but if you're bringing Chloé..."


Stunned silence.


"What boyfriend?" Julien's father broke the silence.


Julien, who'd almost forgotten his father was in the room, now looked between him and his older brother, the lump in his throat growing larger, traitorous tears pressing on. Panic rose within him. "I told you about him!" He said, trying to keep his voice under control. He blinked furiously, wanting to look André right in the eye, but it was difficult. "I told you! You - you could've listened!"


André, who looked like he couldn't decide if he was confused, surprised or worried, opened his mouth to speak, but before he got a word out, Julien had risen from the table. Tears were now definitely threatening to roll down Julien's cheeks, and his chest felt oddly constricted, like somebody had tightened barrel hoops around his chest.. He left, half his meal still untouched on his plate.


"Julien! Wait -"


As soon as the door to the dining room clicked shut behind Julien, he ran.


He shouldn't be feeling so upset, so hurt, but he couldn't help it; it wasn't supposed to be already, they were supposed to have one more trip before everything changed. He was supposed to be happy for his brother, but all he felt was hurt and betrayal.


He wasn't supposed to be crown prince yet.


Julien locked the door to his rooms; André would no doubt come to find him but Julien did not want to talk to him right now, if ever again. Or until the morning, anyway. He did not lock the secret passage that connected their rooms, however, trusting that André would get the message.


He allowed himself a couple of hiccuping sobs, then made his way to his bathroom and splashed cold water in his face. More tears mixed with the water, but eventually Julien patted his face dry and looked at himself in the mirror: twenty-two years old and crying because his older brother dared to want to follow his heart a little faster than planned. Because Julien didn't want to be crown prince, and eventually, king. Stupid. He glared at himself and threw the towel into the sink. Stupid, selfish, stupid… He dropped himself onto his fainting couch.


Only then did it occur to him he had a major problem: he did not, in fact, have a boyfriend.



André hadn't come to talk to him, so Julien had snuck down to the pool for a swim. Swimming was the one thing he could count on to clear his head; something about being in water that pleased the 16,5 per cent of him that were pure melusine. Chloé had some melusine heritage as well, but most of her 52 per cent of non-human blood was actually fée. Not that it mattered. The constitution was clear on this point: consent to the marriage to a less than human being will only be given if the ruler or the heir entering into the marriage renounces their claim to the throne for themselves and their descendants.


Much as André cared about the throne and his duties as crown prince and future king, he also loved Chloé. Julien didn't want to take that away from him.


That didn't mean he had to be happy about it, he thought, taking a deep breath and diving. He swam for the bottom, touched the whale painted on the bottom of the deep end, and then headed back up. Why did he have to be the only one anxious about the future?


Julien let himself float on his back, staring at the ceiling. His father and brother hadn't looked entirely happy about this surprise boyfriend Julien had sprung on them. He could milk that for what it was worth; let his family think he was really going to propose to someone he obviously hadn't been dating for very long. Let them sweat a bit. Especially André, for moving up the timeline. Julien could ruin their holiday right back at him.


It was petty, Julien knew, but he didn't care. A plan was forming.


First step: find somebody to pretend to be his boyfriend for the next three months.


Second step: somehow convince the guy to actually do it.


There weren't very many options, Julien quickly realised. Claude was never going to agree to pose as his boyfriend. Not only would nobody believe they were actually dating, and not just because they'd been friends for years or because Claude was not-so-secretly shagging the first year from their water polo team, but because Claude would never even dare to pursue Julien even if he wanted to. And Julien...well, Julien had different preferences in men.


Julien let himself sink underwater, holding his breath. No, Claude was his oldest friend and completely out of the question, although Julien was reasonably certain he would back his play...or maybe not, Claude had ideas about honour and morale. Best not to tell him about it at all.


He came back up for air. There was also Edgar, who might've been game, but Julien dismissed the thought quickly, that would never work either. There weren't many of his friends that would be ideal, Julien had to admit, not even Évariste who was as gay as they come. Évariste was a cousin, a grandchild of Julien's father's mother's brother, and also one of the many princes of neighbouring Ollenie, and they'd more or less grown up together. It wouldn't work. Julien simply didn't have a whole slew of friends to begin with, and acquaintances were few and far between.


It was all so stupid. Julien made for the far end of the pool, kicked hard against the edge and let himself propel outwards, then drift. He and André were both part melusine, through their mother. The heir to the throne could have non-human blood in dubious quantities, apparently, but the law forbid that the heir's intended would be less 50 per cent human! Julien took a deep breath. Now was not the time to work himself up into a rage about old specieist attitudes.


Jeanne would've loved to play the part, Julien thought, but she was a woman, and also the only female friend he had. He didn't want to date a woman, even if it was fake...and he didn't want to lie to the press, his people, or his friends, and claim to suddenly have become bisexual. And even if she did agree to crossdress for him, the ruse would be obvious. Damn it. This wasn't some old play where a nice jacket and a fake moustache could fool an entire kingdom, or even just his father and brother.


Just as Julien reached the other end of the pool, he realised that maybe there was something else he could do, something even better. He paused, resting against the edge. He didn't have many friends or acquaintances, no, but there was perhaps one person he could talk to, and if he agreed, maybe


Julien dragged himself out of the pool. Évariste had dragged him to a party the previous month, one of those loud and rowdy private parties in a classmate's country mansion that Évariste favoured and that Julien didn't, on account of there being too little security followed by too much gossip in the papers the morning after. When Julien had escaped into the kitchen under the pretence of fetching himself a drink of water, he'd run into Crown Prince Denis of Trier. Denis had chatted with him - not altogether unpleasantly - and given him his number. Julien had never called him back. He knew Denis superficially as they had met formally on a few occasions as well as they both went to Windhof University, but they didn't move in the same social circles. Denis hadn't approached Julien again after the party and neither had Julien, but he still had his number.


Denis was also a crown prince, and not only that, his father was ill so Denis was liable to become king within the near future. Marrying a foreign ruler was usually something that led to renouncement of succession rights, wasn't it? There'd been a case of that in Scandinavia recently.


His father might have a coronary, but this could work Julien drew in a breath. It could work. He fetched a towel and pressed it to his face. The press wouldn't need to know. If only André and their father knew, it would be enough. If Denis agreed, they'd keep the whole fake thing private and then break it off after the cabin trip, after Julien fake proposed to him and Denis fake accepted, after Julien's father and brother had sweated enough about the whole thing, and nobody would get their knickers in a twist over two princes from semi-rivalling nations cahooting.


Julien dried himself off quickly and then ran back up to his rooms.


The scrap of paper Crown Prince Denis - "Just Denis", as he'd presented himself - had given him was still in Julien's wallet. Blind luck that he hadn't thrown it away yet, he told himself, as he saved the number to his mobile phone and then hit the dial button. And waited. And changed his mind, because of course Denis wouldn't want to pose as his boyfriend, that was ridiculous, but before Julien could hang up, there was a click on the other end.


"Hello?"


Shitshitshit - "This is Julien," Julien said. "Is this Crown Prince Denis speaking?"


"Julien! I thought I'd told you to call me Denis," Denis said. "I was beginning to think you'd never call me."


"I wasn't going to."


"Oh?" Denis' voice changed. Was that disappointment?


"I have a business proposal for you," Julien said, not dwelling on Denis' voice. "If you're willing to pretend to be my boyfriend for the next three months, there's a trip to our cabin in the French Alps in it for you. Skiing. First week in February."


Pause. Then: "You're not joking, are you?"


"I'm afraid not."


"We-ell," Denis said, drawing it out. "I do happen to be single at the moment… But you don't have to bribe me to date you. I'll happily date you for free. And for real."


Julien's cheeks heated. "Pretending is fine! You don't - I don't - just pretend, please."


"Okay." Another pause. "What is this about?"


"It's a bit of a story. What I'm thinking will happen is this: You and I pretend to go out for the next three months. Then you come with me to the cabin, where I will fake propose to you, and you will fake accept. Then we come back home and, say, a week later, we break up."


"That's very elaborate," Denis said, after a pause. "What for?"


"Revenge. I want my dad and my brother to think I'm renouncing my claim to the throne by marrying a foreign ruler," Julien explained. "If you don't want to do it, that's fine, I'll find someone else -"


"I'll do it," Denis interrupted. "On one condition."


"What is it?"


"It stays under wraps. No press. I don't want to deal with the potential media fallout. I also don't want another hit to my reputation - dating somebody for three months, getting engaged to them, and then breaking it off a week later? That's going to look terrible on my record."


Julien sighed in relief. "Oh, sure. I didn't want it to be public either. This is strictly for my dad's and André's benefit. Do you have any other reservations?"


"Not at present. Can we meet and discuss this in detail?"


"Of course. Do you have lectures tomorrow? Meet me for lunch in the tower cafe?" Julien let himself lean against his dresser.


"I'm having lunch with my father tomorrow, it's a state thing, but I have a lecture in the morning. Meet you before my lecture?"


They worked out a time and place to meet and then Julien hung up.


Julien's fingers were shaking. He dropped the phone onto the desk. "Sacred fairies," he whispered, staring at the phone and the scrap of paper with Denis' number on it. The phone screen went blank.


Crown Prince Denis of Trier had just agreed to pretend to be his boyfriend. Julien's father was going to have a coronary.




"Please just talk to me," André pleaded, leaning across the divider between their seats that Julien had pulled down the moment he realised André was hijacking his ride. "I didn't know about your boyfriend and I'm sorry, Julien -"


"Don't you have that charity thing to go to?" Julien finally said, unable to keep ignoring him. "You're going to be late."


The car crossed the bridge and into Windhof. They'd be at the university in about four minutes, but Julien was certain that André's charity thing was in the other direction, in Vallée. He checked his watch. In about fifteen minutes, no less.


"They can't fine me for speeding," André said, and Julien gave him a look. "I called ahead and said I had an emergency," he admitted.


Julien snorted.


"Would you at least tell me who it is?"


André was looking so sincere and sorry that Julien relented. He could never stay mad at André for long, and to be fair, it wasn't André's fault that he didn't know about the fake boyfriend… but it was André's fault that their trip to the cabin was ruined, and Julien swallowed. "I told you," he said, quietly. "I met him at that party I went to last month. He gave me his number? You had comments about it."


The car pulled up in front of the main entrance to the university. Denis was already there, waiting. Julien's insides flipped. The car had tinted windows so Denis couldn't see him, but there was only one person attending Windhof that would arrive in a black car with tinted windows and the Vallée royal seal on the number plates. Denis pushed himself off the wall he was leaning on; he'd definitely noticed Julien's arrival.


André frowned, but then he followed Julien's line of sight until he found Denis. Understanding dawned. "Crown Prince Denis?" he asked, looking between Denis and Julien. "I thought you weren't going to call him back?"


Julien shrugged. "I changed my mind." He unbuckled his seatbelt and opened the door, ready to step out. "Break the news to dad gently, will you?" He didn't wait for André to answer, just stepped out and slammed the door shut, and then turned to face Denis.


"Hello," he said.


Denis grinned at him. "Hello," he said, taking Julien's hand and bringing it to his lips. The kiss was soft, light on his skin, but Julien's cheeks heated all the same.


He only barely resisted the urge to look back at the car. André was no doubt staring at him through the tinted windows. "Walk with me," Julien said, wanting to put as much distance as possible between himself and André. He took his hand back and started off, not waiting to see if Denis was following.


Julien heard the car drive off, and only when the sound had faded did he turn around. Gone.


"Who was in the car?" Denis asked.


"My brother." Julien sighed. "I promised you an explanation. I'll make it short: André moved up his engagement, which means I'll become crown prince earlier than planned. This pisses me off, so to get back at him, you are going to be my boyfriend for the next three months, come along on our trip to the cabin, where André will propose to Chloé all official-like, and I will fake-propose to you, you will fake-accept or fake-turn it down, I don't care. After the trip we 'break up'," Julien said, making finger quotes. "There'll also be skiing and it's a lovely cabin, so that's what you get out of it."


Denis was quiet. "Why the fake proposal?" he eventually asked.


"I figured it'd piss André off if I stole some of his thunder," Julien answered. The whole thing was turning his tongue into ash, but right in this moment he didn't care. He was still too angry at André. "You should probably fake-accept it, for maximum effect."


"All right. I can do that." Denis held out his hand. "Shake on it?"


"Is that necessary?" But Julien took his hand and shook it. There, it was done. They walked into the university together, shoulders brushing.


"Just one thing. How public should we be?" Denis asked when they'd reached the hall. Denis's lecture halls were in the political wing to the left, and Julien was continuing ahead up the grand staircase to the art studios below the roof. "For the sake of my father's fragile heart, you understand."


Julien let out a breath. Right, of course - it was well known that King Hubrecht wasn't well, and though Julien had been concerned about his own father's reaction, he hadn't been thinking about consequences across the border. Did he want to unwittingly cause the death of the king of Trier? They were supposed to be a kind of enemies, after all, even if these days it was mostly good-natured teasing across borders. Frenemies, he supposed. "Not public at all," he said, after a pause. "I wasn't planning on talking to the press, and I'd rather not it get out but," he gestured around the hall, "words have a tendency to travel. Our friends will have to know, I guess, but it's up to you what you tell your family. No press. Just...let's keep this on the down low for as long as possible, yeah?"


"Yes." Denis regarded him. He found Julien's hand again and squeezed it, gently. "Are you free for a fake date on Sunday?"


"Yes." Julien wanted to take his hand back. Denis's touch was making his hand burn, more than even the kiss had done. "Until then."


"I'll call you later with the details," Denis said. His thumb was rubbing the spot on Julien's hand that his lips had touched. "My lecture starts in five." He let Julien's hand go.


Julien turned and started up the stairs, in a hurry to get away. He didn't look back, but he was so preoccupied with the thought of whether Denis was still there or not, that he didn't notice Claude until he reached the first landing, nearly colliding with him.


"What was that about?" Claude asked, face pale. He glanced at the door to the political wing, which was just swinging shut. "Was that who I think it was?"


"It was he," Julien admitted.


Claude stared at him. "Why were you talking to him? Why was he holding your hand?"


"Ah," said Julien, adjusting the strap on his bag to avoid looking at Claude. "That is - he is - that is to say, we are dating. Going out. Doing the boyfriend thing. Of sorts."


"What?" Claude's voice was strained.


"Don't tell anyone?" Julien pulled him aside hastily, as two female students passed by. He was getting late for his studio hours, but royal titles existed to be exploited, so he couldn't bring himself to care. "We're not public. We don't want the press to know."


Claude just looked at him. "Crown Prince Denis," he said, as if he didn't quite believe his own eyes or ears. He shook his head. "I thought you weren't going to call him back."


"I changed my mind." Julien sighed. "Look, it's very new. We only just…" he trailed off. His heart was beating too fast for comfort - if Claude didn't buy the ruse, then nobody else would. "Don't tell anyone? We're still figuring out what the hell we're doing with each other, you know? I wasn't ready to tell anyone about us yet..."


Claude nodded and Julien's insides relaxed. "Yeah, yeah, I understand. Is it going to be official?"


"Ah…" Julien shrugged awkwardly. "I don't know? It's new," he repeated. And then, inexplicably, he flushed.


"You'd like it to be," Claude said.


Julien didn't answer. "I've got to go," he said instead, "my supervisor is waiting. I'll talk to you later?"


***



Claude wasn't the only one waiting for Julien at lunch. Edgar and Évariste were there, as was Claude's not-boyfriend, Olivier.


Dropping his messenger bag on the floor beside his chair, Julien repressed a sigh and took a seat. Soon after, the waitress took his order - a formality that was wholly unnecessary, in Julien's opinion, as the tower cafe only ever had one dish on the menu; today it was creamy salmon soup - and left Julien with ice water and his friends staring at him. Only Jeanne wasn't there, but that was to be expected; it was Thursday and Jeanne didn't have lectures.


"Well?" Edgar asked, eyebrow raised.


Julien closed his eyes briefly, then sought Claude's eye. Claude shook his head, which meant he hadn't told them anything, but it was clear he'd told them something.


"For the spirits' sake, Claude," Julien muttered.


Claude had the decency to look a little bit sorry. This only served to make their friends even more curious, their gazes bearing down on Julien heavily.


"All right, then. Not a word of this to anybody," Julien said first. "And especially not the press."


Now he definitely had everyone's attention.


"I'm going out with Denis. Crown prince Denis of Trier Denis," Julien said, in a low voice, fiddling with the hem of the table cloth. "We, ah - it's new. Ish…" he trailed off, shrugging, trying to play it casual. "But really, not a word to anyone!"


Silence.


"Why?" It was Évariste who'd spoken up. "I was under the impression that you weren't going to call him back."


"I changed my mind," Julien said, for what had to be the seventh time that day.


Évariste looked thoughtful, and Edgar was giving him wary looks. Claude was the only one who hadn't taken his eyes off Julien, much to Olivier's consternation.


"So…" Évariste folded his napkin. "Are you guys serious?"


"It's new!" Julien emphasised, starting to feel panicky. "I don't know! I wasn't going to tell you guys. Yet." The waitress brought his food just then, so Julien had an excuse to not look his friends in the eye. He couldn't keep it up for long though. "We have a date on Sunday," he said, reluctantly. "Our first real date. We, uh, have mostly spoken on the phone thus far…"


"A date, huh?" Olivier was the one to speak up now, side-eyeing Claude as he did so.


Julien decided a change of topic was in order.



Julien had managed to avoid his father and brother completely since their dinner, which had been easier than anticipated: He'd commandeered the help of the palace staff and made excuses relating to his coursework, as well as he'd taken advantage of the fact that this week and weekend both his father and brother were away at different times, his father on a formal state visit to Sweden and his brother visiting Chloé's parents.


He had told neither André nor his father that he had a date with Denis this weekend, which probably defeated the purpose of the entire fake relationship to begin with… Julien would tell them about it after the fact, he decided, maybe take a few cutesy photos to show them as proof.


Yeah, he'd do that.


When Denis pulled up outside the palace's service entrance in a unmarked car, nobody was there to witness it but the staff, who Julien had alerted in advance. Julien's bodyguard took the passenger seat, and Julien himself slid into the backseat, where Denis was waiting for him.


"Hello, there," Denis greeted him, wide smile on his face. He took Julien's hand again, and brought it to his lips. "I'm pleased to have your company."


"Pleasure's all mine," Julien said, remembering his manners even as he was distracted by Denis' overly friendly greeting. He withdrew his hand, placing it in his lap.


Denis wasn't taking him far, so conversation in the car was short; Julien hadn't finished talking about his Art History course by the time the car pulled up outside a winter fair. It was only the middle of November, but the fairs were already up and running, and would be until early January.


Their bodyguards keeping a respectful distance behind them, Julien and Denis headed into the fair.


"Why a winter fair?" Julien asked, as they paused to look at a stall selling handcrafted wooden toys. They were in Trier, and while he didn't exactly need to be officially invited into the country, it felt a little odd to be here without anyone's explicit knowledge. It felt as though he were trespassing, like that time Theux troops had gotten lost in the forest bordering Trier on a training exercise and had inadvertently crossed the border. If Julien remembered correctly, that faux pas had been corrected by a very generous gift from the Arch Regent to the King of Trier; twelve bottles of their finest icewine. If anybody raised concerns about Julien's clandestinely attending a winter fair in Trier, they could probably resolve the matter with alcoholic beverages. Vallée du Lis was renowned for their apple brandy, after all.


Come to think of it, maybe telling Denis to pick him up at the palace service entrance could've been a minor international incident in its own right… ah, who cared. Certainly not Julien. These were different times, it was probably all fine. If not: apple brandy.


"I thought you might enjoy it," Denis said, touching his elbow. "This one's my favourite. Here, look." He indicated a wooden toy carved in the likeness of a wolf, beautifully crafted and stained white. When Denis touched the toy, the wolf transformed into a man.


"Oh," Julien said, reaching out for the toy. It didn't change at his touch, but remained firmly a man. "How did you do that?"


Denis touched the toy again, and it transformed back into a wolf. "I've some werewolf blood in my line, a ways back," he explained, delighted, as he counted out coins for the toy. The seller wrapped it, put it in a bag and handed it to Denis, who handed it to Julien. "I have just enough blood for the magic in the toy to work."


Julien, slightly befuddled at having the toy thrust on him, looked at the remaining toys in the stall. He didn't immediately find what he was looking for, so turned to the seller. "Do you have any melusine toys?"


The seller directed him to various carvings beside a large pile of fée toys. The toys were women and men alike, with fish tails and without, and some looking like they were shrouded in mist. One of the carvings had red hair and her dress was gold. It might've been a coincidence, it might not have been, but she resembled his late mother and her favourite formal dress enough that Julien's throat constricted. He reached out to touch it, and as his fingertips connected with the toy, the carved woman's tail turned into legs, and she opened her arms as if waiting for an embrace.


"Oh," Julien said, for the second time. "That's…" He picked the figurine up and examined it closely. She had very fine features, not dissimilar to his mother's. He put it back.


"I'll have that one as well," Denis said, counting out coins again. This time he didn't give Julien the bag.


Julien didn't comment on the purchase, but moved on to the next stall.


"What's the full story?" Denis asked, when he'd caught up to him.


"What story?" Julien asked, glancing at the bag. He didn't want to talk about his mother.


"This thing." Denis gestured between them. "I get the impression there's more to it than just wanting to piss your brother off." He purchased them both mulled wine at the next stall, spiced with cinnamon and rum.


Julien quietly accepted the cup Denis handed him. "Would you believe me if I told you I just panicked?" He turned his cup of mulled wine in his hands, letting it warm his fingers. "André told me he was going to make his and Chloé's engagement official this coming February, instead of...next year. And I panicked, and the only thing I could think of at the time that could hurt him back was that I was taking my boyfriend along to the cabin as well, and...well."


Denis' eyes twinkled. "You don't actually have a boyfriend," he cleverly deducted. "This is where I come in, hm?"


"Yeah." Julien sighed, then took a sip of the wine. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean for you to get tangled up in my family politics."


"You didn't have to get me tangled up in it," Denis pointed out, but then he shrugged and sipped his own wine. "Why did you call me? Why not one of your friends?"


Julien took another sip of the wine, hoping the alcohol and heat would cover up the flush of embarrassment in his cheeks. "You gave me your number."


Denis laughed. "I see. You know," he leaned close, "I meant what I said. I gave you my number for a reason. I'm genuinely interested you, and in dating you. If you want to…" he trailed off, gesturing, "say, drop the farce…"


"And what, date you for real?" Julien asked. He hadn't lowered the cup yet. He didn't think he dared. It was better to hide behind it.


"If you want to," Denis said. "If you're not interested, that's fine. We can hang out as friends on these dates of yours until you've got what you want and this fake relationship thing ends. I'm just saying, in case you're interested, I'm game."


"Oh. I, ah, don't think I am. Interested." Julien took another sip. He was already feeling buzzed; this was some strong stuff. At this rate he'd be drunk before they made it halfway through the fair.


"Do I hear a yet in there?"


"You can hear whatever you want, I suppose," Julien answered. He drained his cup and gave Denis a smile. "Come on. I want to go on the ferris wheel."


"You don't have a tail, do you?" Denis asked once they were up top in the ferris wheel. He pretended to be looking really hard at Julien's legs, poking them with his finger.


"No." Julien laughed. "My mum didn't either, you know. I don't think grandmamma did either, but I wouldn't know for sure. I don't remember her very well."


"Scales, then? The ability to manipulate water?" Denis grinned. "Not that scales are a dealbreaker, by no means. I'm just wondering what I'd find in your pants. Hypothetically."


"Hypothetically." Julien shook his head, but he was smiling. "If I concentrate really hard I can make it misty, but it only works in the bathroom. After a shower." He looked sidelong at Denis, who was narrowing his eyes at him. "At least that's what André used to tell me, when we were little."


Denis laughed. "Not technically a lie, I believe."


"No." Julien pursed his lips. "But I am a good swimmer. I'm on the Windhof water polo team."


"I thought there were rules against unfair advantages?"


"There are, but my percentage is pretty small. It's negligible, really, in the grand scheme of things. "Julien shrugged. "I did pass the audition on my own merits, royal and melusine blood notwithstanding. I've been playing water polo since seventh grade. Oh, I actually have a game on Saturday! You should come watch us play."


"Is that an invitation to come ogle you half naked in a socially acceptable manner?" Denis' smile was just shy of a smirk.


Julien flushed. "I didn't mean it like that!" he protested, elbowing Denis - and pulling the punch last minute. It probably didn't do to injure the crown prince of another country. It might be interpreted as an act of war, or something. Not even apple brandy would be able to repair that. "Stop laughing at me!"


"Sorry," Denis said, still laughing. "Look, I'll invite you to all my football games, and we'll be square. I have it on good authority that I look amazing in shorts."


The withering look that Julien sent Denis in response to that had Denis almost keel over with laughter.


***



Two hours, two chocolate covered bananas and four cups of mulled wine later, Julien was stumbling out of Denis' unmarked car and in through the service entrance of the palace, flanked by his bodyguard, who was shooting him worried looks.


"Are you drunk?" André was standing just inside the entrance, evidently having been lying in wait. "Where have you been?"


"I'm not drunk, just buzzed," Julien answered, straightening up. He unwound his scarf. "Why? I'm twenty-two, I can drink. Have been drinking. Since eighteen."


"Where were you?"


"On a date," Julien replied cheerfully, handing the scarf to André, since he was standing right there, and then the little shopping bag. "With Denis!"


André dropped his face in his palm. "Couldn't you have told somebody before you left? I was worried something might've happened to you!"


"It was fine, I had Sam with me, right Sam?" Julien turned around, but his bodyguard had slipped off. "Oh. He was right there."


"It's not fine!" André was gesturing. "You can't just go off gallivanting with princes of other countries in secret!"


Julien gaped. "Oh, fuck you," he said, suddenly enraged. "It's all fine when you get to 'follow your heart', but when it's me it's suddenly not? I'll go on a date with my boyfriend if I damn well want to, and you don't get to have a say about it!" He tore his things out of André's hands and pushed past him, running into the palace and towards his rooms.


It was a shame the palace doors weren't made for slamming, Julien thought, as the door to his rooms clicked shut. Downside of living in centuries old palaces: the doors were too large and heavy to be slammed. He dropped the small bag on his bed. In addition to the wolf toy, it now also contained a little stuffed horse that Denis had won at a sharp shooting booth, and a box of chocolate covered strawberries, which Denis had rather heavily hinted he'd have loved to share with Julien in private - the memory burned at the forefront of Julien's mind, bringing heat out into his cheeks again.


Trying to ignore it, and the fact that he'd actually had a rather lovely evening, Julien unbuttoned his coat and unlaced his boots, dropping them off in the front room. He was tired, all of a sudden, the pleasant alcoholic buzz replacing giddiness with exhaustion. It'd been a long week, and the unexpected run in with André was the drop that spilled it all.


There was a soft knock on his door, and then André's voice. "Julien? Can I come in?"


Julien fell backwards onto his bed. "The door's open," he called out. He put an arm over his eyes. He should probably apologise to André, but he just didn't want to. He didn't want to talk to him at all, but what use was the fake relationship if he wasn't going to, well, use it?


The door clicked open and closed again, then the sound of André's steps drew closer. "Hey," he said. The bed dipped slightly as he sat on the edge of it.


"Hey," Julien answered. He didn't move his arm.


"I just wanted to say I'm sorry," André told him. "I don't suppose I've been handling this well."


"Maybe not."


"It just surprised me, I think, all this, and...listen, you're my baby brother. I worry about you."


"I know." Julien sighed, then sat up. "There's nothing to worry about."


"He's Denis," André said, as if that explained everything. "I don't want to be crude, but he has a reputation."


Julien looked up at him. André's forehead had that line in it that meant he disapproved of something. "You mean his official track record with past girlfriends as well as the unofficial track record with past boyfriends?"


"Yes, exactly that."


"I don't see what that's got to do with us," Julien said. "I'm not any of those people. And he's nice." He pulled his phone out of his pocket and opened the camera roll. He opened the most recent photo and showed it to André. "That's us, tonight."


They'd taken that photo on the ferris wheel, clutching fresh cups of mulled wine and grinning at the camera. Denis had his arm around Julien's shoulders, holding him close, while Julien took the photo. It'd taken a few tries to get a good photo, actually, Julien hadn't been willing to fake kissing ("There's nothing fake about kissing! Lips are touching either way!" he'd argued) and the first couple of photos had looked forced. This one was good. It looked real.


"You look like you're having fun," André commented after a while. "Ferris wheel? Where'd you go?"


"Winter fair in Trier, just across the border," Julien answered. "Nobody spotted us, I think. Not that I noticed, anyway… Not that I care that they noticed," he added, defiantly. As soon as he'd said it, it was like all fight had drained out of him. "No, that's a lie. I do care a little."


André regarded him. "I know what that feels like," he said. "Especially when it's...new."


Julien nodded. "Yeah." He put the phone away. "How's dad taking it?"


"As well as is to be expected," André answered. "You should probably talk to him. I don't think he's against it as such, he's just...worried about you." He smiled. "Invite Denis to dinner, show him what he's really like."


"They've met."


"Mh, but not informally. It's not the same." André winked. "State visits aren't the same as meeting your future son-in-law, you know."


"We're not getting married!" Julien almost choked, swatting at André. "We only just - I don't - stop laughing!"


"You're the one who said you wanted to take him to the cabin," André said, still laughing. "You don't have to propose to him if you don't want to, but you do realise that's what dad and I both thought was going to happen, don't you?"


"I know." Julien made a face. "It's not what I meant. I just...wanted him there. Because you're bringing Chloé, and...I didn't want to be alone." It wasn't a complete lie, but André didn't have to know that, did he? "And maybe I do want to propose to him," he added, belatedly, remembering just why he was putting on this big fake relationship production to begin with.


André didn't say anything to that, just gave his brother a thoughtful look. Eventually he got to his feet and made to leave.


Julien steeled himself, wanting to get this all over with now before André left and the opportunity with him. "Wait. Hey. Listen. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to...spring it, like this. And for shouting at you, earlier." I didn't mean to get involved with an enemy of the state, he wanted to say, but thought André probably wouldn't appreciate the joke. It was a lie anyway, and lying wasn't all that it was cracked up to be.


It didn't mean that he was going to end this fake relationship early. As far as Julien was concerned, André deserved to sweat a little more for a little longer. Denis was coming to the cabin, and Julien was going to fake propose to him.


Besides, if he ended it all already, it would be much harder to justify spending time with Denis. It had been a fun evening out, and Denis was...charming. When he smiled it was real. Julien had been on the receiving end of those smiles all evening, and he found he'd quite like to receive some more.


"I'm sorry too," André said. "I wish things could've been different."


"Yeah."


André paused in the door. "Goodnight, little brother."


Julien threw a pillow at him.


***



Monday morning the Royal Court of Vallée du Lis released a press statement regarding Crown Prince André's plans to invite his long-time girlfriend, Chloé Charbonneau, along on the annual trip to the family cabin in the French Alps.


By noon, all the tabloids, gossip rags and respectable publications alike were announcing the Crown Prince's intent to propose to his girlfriend, as per tradition. This was a shock as Chloé's melusine and fée heritage rendered her unsuitable to become queen - was Crown Prince André going to renounce his claim to the throne?


Not long after this, the same papers and online media were speculating about Prince Julien's suitability to the throne. Never had Vallée had an openly gay king before! Quotes from spokespersons from the National Queer Alliance and the Attorney General's office were procured, passersbys and tourists on Place du Palais-Sophie were polled, and debate programmes on TV brought up the topic.


Julien's nerves were, to put it bluntly, fried.


Journalists had no access to Windhof University, so he was safe from having to deal with them, but he couldn't help checking his newsfeed and social media accounts between lectures. Emotions were running high among his people. There was excitement over André's soon-to-be engagement and sorrow that he would no longer be crown prince, as well as there were those who expressed their satisfaction that Vallée wouldn't have a king who stooped to marrying half breeds. There were also those who were pushing for an amendment of the constitution to strike out any and all specieist clauses as they considered Chloé a worthy candidate for queen; her heritage should not matter in his respect, rather who she was as a whole, and Vallée, in general, loved Chloé. She and André made a beautiful couple and would make a beautiful king and queen.


As for Julien, there was a smattering of support of his own imminent change in status, but also some homophobic noise, as was to be expected. Some people couldn't decide what was worse, a half breed queen or a faggot king?


It was exhausting.


Julien made it to lunch, dropped into the empty chair next to Évariste and said: "Let's not talk about it."


Évariste, who was just spearing half a sugar glazed pear on his fork, paused. "What, that your brother is getting engaged or that you're becoming crown prince?"


With a load groan, Julien dropped his head to the table. "If I marry Denis I might not have to be crown prince," he muttered.


"What was that?" Claude dropped into the chair on the other side of Julien. "Did I hear what I thought I heard?"


Julien raised his head from the table to glare at him. "Did you use your werewolf hearing just now?"


Claude shrugged unconcernedly. "Depends. Did I hear you say the words 'marry Denis'?"


At that, Évariste nearly choked on the piece of pear he'd just bitten off. "What?"


"I -" Julien sighed, then thumped Évariste on the back tiredly. "I said that maybe I didn't have to be crown prince if I marry Denis."


Évariste and Claude shared a look.


"This is a very serious question: are you arranging your own marriage to escape a 'bad' situation?"


Julien stared at them. "Yes, that is exactly what I'm doing, thank you, that's brilliant. Did I tell you guys that I'm taking Denis to the cabin in February? I am, that is a thing that is happening. Me and Denis. At the cabin. As are André and Chloé. Do you think my father would let us hold a joint engagement party?" He picked up Évariste's wine glass and drained it.


Claude gestured at Évariste, who huffed but got up and went over to the waitress' station. Julien didn't care. He was now staring at the white table cloth and contemplating the merits of drowning himself (a difficult thing to do when one has melusine heritage, even if it was no more than 16,5 per cent) versus running away to the jungle and becoming a no-name savage for the rest of his living days.


"You're better than this," Claude said.


"Tough, because apparently this is what I am," Julien replied, gesturing at himself. "Vallée will just have to deal with the fact their next king is bent as a spoon and more neurotic than three kittens in a tree."


Évariste returned with a bottle of wine, two new wine glasses, a breadbasket, and a butter dish. "Why are three kittens in a tree neurotic?" he poured wine for all three of them, then put the breadbasket down in front of Julien.


"Because they're in a tree." Julien picked up his (previously Évariste's) glass of wine, and took a hearty sip.


"Look, friend," Évariste plopped back into his chair and resumed eating his pears, "I don't presume to understand what's going on inside that pretty blond head of yours seeing as I am something like 18th in line for the Ollenie throne so nobody actually cares that I'm queerer than my aunt's wedding dress. But look. I'm pretty sure that pretending to be in a relationship with the crown prince of Trier isn't going to make your brother change his mind."


Julien's eyes glazed over. Of course Évariste knew it wasn't real. If he'd figured it out, wouldn't that mean his father and brother had too? He drained his second glass of wine, then reached for the bottle. He filled the glass to the rim, then realised his mistake and leaned over to slurp the top of it off before it spilled.


"Have some carbs with that, please," Évariste said, nudging the breadbasket closer. When Julien ignored it, he shared an exasperated look with Claude, who just shrugged.


"I know what it looks like," Julien muttered, when he'd drained his third glass of wine. He was buzzed - far too buzzed for comfort, or propriety. Severed spirits! He had a lecture after lunch. He wouldn't be able to show his face there in this state. Windhof University may be pretty accommodating, but Julien was also sure that they would draw the line at drunk princes.


"Do you?" Claude cut in, before Évariste could say anything. "Because I'm not sure you've realised this, but nobody has ever taken anybody to that cabin if it's not to propose to them. If your brother is taking his girlfriend there to propose, the press will be watching you, and they will get wind of Denis being there as well, and - you weren't going to propose to him for real, were you?"


Julien pushed the wine glass away and picked up a roll from the bread basket. He took good care in buttering it. "Wrong! We are dating and in love," he said, as firmly as he could in his current state, clinging to the lie. "I'll propose to my boyfriend if I damn well want to and André can suck it." He bit into the roll with a loud crunch.


Évariste took Julien home after lunch, refusing to allow him to go to his lecture. Julien didn't fight him too hard on the issue.



When Julien came down to breakfast Tuesday morning, his father was there, at the head of the table, buttering a scone. Julien's heart sank into his stomach at the sight of him. Where was André anyway? For the first time in days Julien actually desperately needed his brother near, if only so he could act as a buffer of sorts between himself and his father.


"Morning," Julien said, taking his place at the breakfast table. He avoided his father's eyes. "I wasn't expecting you back until evening."


"Good morning," his father said.


Julien picked a hardboiled egg out of the egg basket and put it on his plate. He stared at it.


"Julien," his father said, putting down his scone. "I wanted to talk to you about Denis."


"Do I have to?" Julien wanted to sink below the table and stay there. "I don't know what there's to talk about."


"Julien," his father repeated. He reached across the table and put his hand on Julien's, squeezing it. Julien looked up. "I don't disapprove of your choices. I never have."


"Then why…"


"I just want to make sure that you know what you're getting into. Are you two really getting engaged?"


Julien shrugged. "It wasn't my plan, no," he answered, quietly. "We've not been dating long. I just…" He turned his hand up, so it was palm to palm with his father's. "I didn't think André was going to get officially engaged, already. I thought I had time. I thought…"


"You don't have to bring him if you don't want to. I'm in no rush to marry both my sons off." Valérian turned their hands so he could put his other hand on top of theirs, sandwiching Julien's hand in his own. "Unless this is what you really want?"


Julien didn't answer that directly. "You'd like him," he said. "He's...nice." It seemed so trite and trivial a word, but truth was, Julien didn't know how else to describe Denis. Aside from formal visits and meetings in the past, that half hour at the party last month, one phone call, one conversation and one evening together didn't really...amount to much. Was he really willing to take this far enough to take Denis to the cabin, knowing his father and brother were expecting Denis to become part of the family? "It occurred to me that..." Julien took a breath, finding his courage, then looked his father in the eye. "He's crown prince. If I marry him, I can't be crown prince, can I? When he becomes king. Right? I couldn't stay here, in that case, could I?"


"I don't know, son." his father squeezed his son's hand again. A flicker of something crossed his eyes that Julien had only rarely seen before, and last when his mother died. "I wasn't aware you were so desperate to not become crown prince that you'd try to marry...somebody like Denis. Why didn't you tell me?"


Julien's eyes were suddenly hot and stinging. He blinked furiously. "That's not the only reason!" He withdrew his hand, fiddling with the napkin instead. "I really like him."


"But you don't want to be crown prince."


"No." Julien's voice was so quiet he wasn't sure any sound had made it past his lips.


"Listen to me, Julien." his father folded his hands on the table. "I will never make you, or your brother, do anything you don't want to do. I married your mother for love. André is marrying for love. I hope you will do the same."


Julien nodded.


"For what it's worth, I don't think marrying Denis will prevent you from becoming crown prince," his father added, "but I'll have our people look into it."


"Yeah." Julien finally picked up the egg and started peeling it.


"Is this what this is about? This thing with Denis?" His father looked him in the eye.


Julien flushed. "No. We are actually dating for real," he said. "I'm sorry I've given the impression that I'm only using him for my own benefit."


"All right." His father returned to his scone.


"I think I was just jealous of André," Julien burst out. "And I didn't want to be alone. It wasn't fair."


Valérian chuckled. "And instead you're leaving your old man to fend for himself? And here I was hoping you and I were going to team up against the two of them."


"Oh...I...you could bring someone too?" Julien suggested, blushing again. "I don't mind. I don't think André would mind either…" He trailed off. "You know, if you wanted to start seeing someone."


"I don't think I'm quite ready for that." His father leaned back in his chair.


Julien glanced at his plate, then back at his dad. "I miss mum too," he said.


His father passed him the breadbasket. "Why don't you tell me about Denis?"


"He's…" Julien trailed off, selecting a scone from the basket. Then an idea struck him. "Are you busy on Saturday?"


"I could arrange not to be."


"He's coming to my game. You could come too. It's been a while since you've seen one of my games." Julien glanced at his father.


"It has been a while," he agreed. "I'll come."


***



Julien didn't see Denis again until the Wednesday after their date, and even then it was by pure chance.


"Oh! Hello," Julien breathed, and then promptly dropped his canvas to the floor when he saw who it was he'd collided with.


"Hello," Denis said, bending down to pick up the canvas. He put it into Julien's hands. "What a crazy happenstance, this."


Julien narrowed his eyes at him. "Did you lie in wait for me?"


"No, I just happened to come around this corner at the same time as you." Denis patted the wall, then grinned. "I may have been hoping to get a glimpse of you today. Lunch?"


"Lunch - oh." Julien looked between Denis' hopeful gaze and the hallway he'd been about to hurl himself through. "I'm kind of late for lunch with my friends," he eventually said, somewhat reluctantly. "You're welcome to join us? If you'd like?"


"Do your friends know about this arrangement of ours?"


"No." Julien's cheeks felt a little hot. "I didn't tell them. I mean, I told them we're dating, I didn't tell them about...the rest of it. Do you want to join us? They're good people."


"Mmh." Denis considered this. "Lion den?"


"No!" Julien startled. "They're good people, really. They're also all on the water polo team. Except for Évariste, who's not, but he's my cousin. And also best friend, so..."


"In that case," Denis said, offering his arm, "lead the way."


Julien resisted the urge to roll his eyes, but took Denis' arm anyway and led him down the hallway. The stairs to the tower cafe were at the end of it. "You know, it's not working."


"What isn't?"


"This." Julien gestured at all of him. "You. Being charming."


"You think I'm charming?" The delighted smile Denis was flashing at him almost made Julien melt a little in the knees.


"I wasn't paying you a compliment!" Julien let go of his arm and pushed him off, but Denis just bounced back. "I was just saying!"


"You say a lot of things," Denis pointed out as he followed Julien up the stairs. "You should keep saying things so I can continue to listen to you saying things."


"Now you're just being silly."


"Is silly working better than charming?"


"Not if it's part of whatever scheme you've got going where you try to make me fall for you," Julien said. "I refuse to fall for it."


"I'm not trying to trick you, you know."


Julien paused on the stars. "I know. I'm also not being completely serious. You're having fun, I'm having fun, so...we're both having fun?"


"And also starving," Denis said, and urged him to keep moving. "I am, however, heartened to learn that you are not completely resistant to my charms, such as they are."


"Oh, for the spirits' sake." Julien feigned tired sighing. They'd reached the top of the stairs, so he pushed the door open to the cafe. "Perhaps if you spent less time telling me how charming you are and more time actually being charming, I could be persuaded to think you are, actually, charming."


"That's great advice, thank you." Denis gave him a flirty smile. "I will certainly take it into consideration."


"Shove it." Julien paused at the largest table in the cafe, around which his friends were seated and currently staring at the two of them. Two spaces were vacant, Julien's own usual spot, and another, diagonally across from the table, where Olivier usually sat. "Denis, my friends. Friends, this is Denis."


"Pleased," Denis said and moved into Olivier's vacant seat as Julien claimed his own spot. He extended his hand to the person sitting to his right.


"The boyfriend," Claude said, shaking it. "Delighted. I'm Claude."


Denis shook hands with everyone around the table, in turn, Julien watching him. His friends seemed wary, but Denis was delight and charm wrapped in sunshine and casual clothing, and soon enough he was chatting away to Évariste about the merits of lacrosse over cricket.


Julien barely paid attention to his own conversation with Claude and Jeanne, or even his food, so intent was he on listening in on the conversation Denis was having with Évariste.


"So what you're telling me is there's no cucumber sandwiches in lacrosse." Évariste looked greatly put upon. "Next you'll be telling me there's no tea, either."


"I didn't take you for a tea guy," Denis responded.


"He isn't," Julien cut in. "He's a wine guy. Ask him how many times he's been escorted from cricket games because he smuggled wine into his tea cups."


"That was one time," Évariste protested. "And it was worth it, right up until I got kicked off the team."


"This is why we don't let Évariste on the water polo team," Julien explained.


Denis' eyes crinkled. "That the only reason?"


Évariste sputtered and Julien laughed. Everyone else around the table had paused to observe what was happening.


"That, and I couldn't let anyone on the team who's prettier than me." Julien grinned at Denis. "I reserve the right to the most beautiful person in the water at any given time."


"Prettier than you?" Denis' made a show of squinting at Évariste, before turning to Julien again. "No offense to your cousin - or anyone else around this table - but there's no one here more handsome than you." He'd dropped his voice to a low pitch and was looking straight into Julien's eyes as he spoke. There was no twinkle of amusement in his eye.


Julien promptly blushed deep red and the table erupted into loud whistles. "Stop," Julien whispered, trying, and failing, to hide in his hands.


This time, there was that twinkle in Denis' eyes as he looked at Julien.


He didn't want it to stop.


***



King Valérian of Vallée du Lis and Crown prince Denis of Trier were sure chumming it up during the game, and Julien wasn't the only one who'd noticed. Media presence wasn't usually strong during his games, but they'd gotten wind of the king's presence, and once they realised he was seated next to Denis - Julien had reserved them seats, so of course they were sitting together - more cameras had flocked to the hall.


Julien took a deep breath before he left the changing rooms and went to meet with his dad and his fake boyfriend. He hadn't bothered blow drying or styling his hair and he was smelling faintly of chlorine, but that was fine, he was in too much of a rush to see how they'd gotten on. "Dad, hi, Denis, hi," he said, and then before they could respond, "how'd you like the game?"


[bantery water polo jargon, denis and valérian gang up on julien, denis has twinkle in his eye and his dad is having a good time.]


As soon as the door closed, the car took off.


"Well," Valérian said, exhaling. "I quite like your young man."


"You do?" Julien looked up. "Oh."


"You needn't sound so surprised," his father said. "You were right. He is nice. He's pleasant company." His father smiled, his eyes softening. "And he seems to care for you a great deal."


"Oh." Julien's voice sounded tiny, even to himself. "Did you talk about me?"


"It was all we talked about."


"No you didn't!" Julien felt his cheeks flush with heat. "You didn't."


"No incriminating stories were shared," his father assured him. "At least none that weren't water polo related." He winked. "He could've easily looked those up on the internet himself, but I decided to save him the trouble."


"My spirits," Julien moaned into his hands. "My spirits are mortified. I can't possibly look him in the eye again after this. I shouldn't have let you two meet."


Valérian broke out into great guffawing laughter.


"Dad!" Julien scooted away from him - or tried to. He was hampered by his seatbelt in this endeavour. "You didn't tell him anything embarrassing at all, did you?" he accused.


"Of course not. I only just met the man." His father was still chuckling. "It's good to know I can still torment you like this. I'll save the good stories for the engagement party."


Julien's bag buzzed. "Urgh dad," he said, fishing around in the bag for his phone. "You are uninvited from the engagement party." He found his phone eventually, and saw that he'd received a text from Denis. He ignored the way his father's eyes bored into him.


you played a good game, Denis' text read. Before Julien could reply to the text, another one ticked in. btw you look great in swimming trunks ;)


I worked hard for that look, Julien texted back, smiling. I would've been offended had you not enjoyed the view ;)


It felt dangerous, flirting like this, but it was so - easy.


I would like to enjoy that view some more if you'll let me, Denis texted.


Julien flushed hard. I showed you mine, you show me yours, he typed, and then sent the text before he could change his mind.


is that a promise?


Nope


let me take you out to dinner next week


"I assume that's the boyfriend?" Valérian asked, pulling Julien out of the little flirty bubble he'd disappeared into. He was smiling, and abruptly Julien realised he'd been watching him.


"Oh, yeah," he answered, glancing at his phone. Denis was still waiting for a reply. "He wants to take me out for dinner."


"Well?"


Julien tried to still his heart. This whole thing was meant to be fake, just for show - just to throw André off. He couldn't get involved with Denis for real. "I'm busy this week," he said, slowly, tapping out the message. Best to put some distance between them before he screwed it all up.


"You could always arrange not to be," his father suggested, twinkle in his eye.


"I've coursework. And that bridge inauguration thing on Thursday."


"Mmh."


I've a game on sunday, Denis replied. come to my game and I'll take you to dinner after


I don't know if I can do that. Much as I'd like to witness you in shorts. Julien deleted the second sentence before sending the text, then quickly added: I've plans with my friends.


bring your friends


Maybe.


your friends can meet my friends


Maybe, Julien repeated. No promises.


***



Denis came out to the stands during halftime, sweaty and bouncy, to say hi to Julien (and his friends, who had jumped at the chance to tag along the moment Julien brought it up). They were seated with those of Denis' friends who weren't on the football team, which counted exactly two people: Andreas and Bram, the latter of which Évariste seemed to have taken a particular liking to.


"Enjoying the view?" Denis asked Julien, knowing grin on his face.


"Looked better from a distance," Julien replied, but he couldn't resist smiling. Denis' smiles were contagious, and when he looked like that… well, the view was good. "Shame about the losing."


"This is where I'd normally say 'we'll catch up to them', but shit yeah, we are totally losing." Denis laughed. "It's very humbling."


"Suppose the water polo team will have to single handedly defend Windhof's honour this season," Julien remarked. He put his arms on the edge of the seat in front of him, in order to lean a little closer to Denis. "We're up to it. But then again, we are mostly Vallée…" he trailed off, grinning.


Denis shook his head. "You keep telling yourself that." He looked over his shoulder briefly, then back to Julien. "I've got to run, coach wants words with us. I'll see you after the game. Dinner?"


"Maybe," said Julien, who'd never actually agreed to dinner, despite the many times Denis had texted him during the week to ask.


"Dinner," Denis said, as if Julien had said 'yes', and then turned and jogged off to the waiting coach. Julien sat back in his seat again.


***



Freshly showered Denis smelled amazing.


Not that Julien was going to admit that to anyone, least of all himself.


Denis had packed both their friend groups (which now also tallied Bastiaan, or Bas) off to the fast food restaurant closest to campus. Tailing the group was Denis' bodyguard, Julien's bodyguard and Évariste's bodyguard. Évariste's aunt was Queen of Ollenie, a kingdom smaller even than Vallée, bordering Vallée and Trier to the north, and Theaux in all other directions. [move to somewhere else, earlier in the fic]


Windhof, the city that was also a state, and where Windhof University was located, was to the north of Vallée. The football game had been a home game; Windhof University against a local Ollenie team. Julien hadn't paid attention to which one.


He was too busy paying attention to the way Denis' hair curled as it dried. Too busy, even, to pay attention to what Denis was saying; there was a lovely little curl that followed the shell of his left ear, and Julien couldn't take his eye off it.


Somebody showed a tray at him, and Julien only just managed to grab it before it spilled. When he looked up, it was to Évariste grinning at him, so Julien flipped him one. Once they were all laden with trays, they filed into one of the larger corner booths. Julien attempted to get a seat opposite Denis so he could try to maintain a somewhat safe distance between them, but he ended up squeezed against Denis' side near the edge of the booth, Évariste and Bram on his other side. In the short leg of the L were Olivier and Claude, and in the chairs opposite were Andreas, Jeanne and Bas. [CHECK THIS LATER. Is Edgar there? Does he still exist]


This was somehow worse than getting caught at gazing lovingly at Denis' ear. His entire side tingled from the contact, and he couldn't focus on the food or the conversation (Évariste was squeezed against Bram, and appeared to be in the process of unfolding all of his seductive charm on him; Bram was blushing).


Halfway through his burger, Julien was semi-following a discussion between Claude and Andreas; Andreas was from Theux, which still ran on a feudal-based system, and Claude was grilling him about the practical applications of this form of government.


"My father is only a prinz, that is, a, uh, count, I believe, in your country, which means he rules a county," Andreas was explaining. "It's technically an administrative position. He and his cabinet handle taxes, education, social services, infrastructure and all that stuff for the county. He answers to the Erprinz of the region, who answers to the Grand Duke, who answers to the Arch Regent. The Arch Regent is 'democratically elected'," here he did finger quotes with fries, "by the council of the Erprinzes, nine in total for nine regions. The Grand Duke is appointed by the Arch Regent, and is really a glorified secretary…"


Julien frowned slightly, and paused briefly to pick an overly large pickle out of his burger, and deposit it on a napkin. Vallée, along with several neighbouring kingdoms, had once been a vassal kingdom under what was now France, but had gained independency centuries ago. Vallée was also, unlike modern France, a constitutional monarchy with a democratically elected parliament and ministers, while France still practised absolute monarchy. (real france is a republic. hmm)


Theux and Trier were the only former vassal kingdoms that maintained an army and mandatory military service. Denis had done his two years of service before enrolling at Windhof.


"I didn't take you for someone interested in government structures," Denis said, nudging Julien.


"Hm? No, not really," Julien admitted. He polished off the last of his burger, and started in on the fries. "I'm just wondering if I should learn. Given that in due time I'll have to have much more to do with that sort of thing…" He grimaced. "You know that I'll have veto power, right?"


"I know." Denis smiled. He'd chosen to tackle his fries first, so hadn't made much headway on his burger. "I also know that the last time the King of Vallée used his veto power was seventy-five years ago. Don't worry too much about things you can't control, or predict. Focus on what's happening now, yeah? Like those fries."


"That's your advice? Focus on the fries?" Julien held up a fry in front of Denis' face.


Denis plucked it from Julien's fingers and put it in his mouth. "Tasty."


"I'm pretty sure I could classify theft of fries as resource stealing. I could start a war over this," Julien told him, as Denis stole another fry from Julien's plate. "Oi! Those are mine." He moved the tray away from Denis, though not out of reach as there simply wasn't the space to spare on the tiny formica tables.


"Point taken," Denis said, grinning, and returned to his burger. Julien watched him, eyes narrowed, but he didn't make another move towards the fries.


Julien polished the fries off slowly, dipping them in generous amounts of chili-mayo. When he ran out, he liberated Évariste's untouched chili-mayo from his tray. (Évariste would not start an Ollenie-Vallée war over theft of fries, Julien was sure.) As Julien was scraping out the last bits of mayo from the cup with his last fry, he felt Denis move beside him and before he realised what was happening, he felt the press of soft lips against the corner of his mouth.


"Wha -" he started, turning to face Denis to ask what the hell he was doing, but instead getting another kiss for his troubles and this time straight on the mouth.


"You had a bit of sauce, there," Denis said, by way of explanation, his eye twinkling.


Flustered, Julien was suddenly highly aware that the conversation around them had come to an awkward halt, and that they were being stared at. His cheeks reddened. "We're in public!" he hissed, more embarrassed than angry. And I never gave you permission to kiss me! he wanted to say, but he couldn't, with this audience, who believed they were an item, solidly in love and all that.


The twinkle in Denis' eye faded. "I'm sorry," he said. "Milkshake?" he offered, nodding towards the tills. It was a peace offering, Julien recognised.


"If you're paying," he said, allowing a small smile. "Chocolate and strawberry, please."


Denis frowned. "That's extra."


"I'm sure you can afford the 50p." Julien showed the last fry into his mouth. "Go on. You're a big boy, I'm sure your pocket money can cover it."


"I'm getting you the biggest milkshake they have on the menu," Denis threatened.


Julien couldn't keep his face straight anymore, and his grin was answered by a matching one on Denis' face. "I want one of the twirly straws," he added, as Denis was rising from his seat.


"Next thing I know you'll be asking for half my kingdom and I'll just hand it over, all pleased as you like," Denis said, shaking his head.


Julien watched him go, and okay, that was a very lovely sight - Denis had gone full on casual after the game, so he was in jeans (and a t-shirt, under his jacket)...but these weren't just jeans, these were skinny jeans. Unlike football shorts, these left nothing to the imagination.


"Nice," Évariste agreed and nearly startled Julien what did i mean to write here??


Denis came back three minutes later with two milkshakes (regular sized).


"What flavour did you get?" Julien asked, leaning over to peer at the tall glass. Denis' milkshake was pale yellow with whipped cream and chocolate shavings on top. Julien's own milkshake was the muddy pink-brown of a strawberry-chocolate milkshake, with whipped cream and chocolate and strawberry sauce drizzled on top. He also had a chocolate wafer stuck in his.


"Banana," Denis answered.


"They don't even offer banana as a flavour," Julien protested. "Honestly, what did you do?"


"I just asked." Denis grinned. "Very politely. Here, want a taste?"


Julien narrowed his eyes at Denis. "No comments related to sucking," he said, then leaned over to take a sip through Denis' straw (a plain white paper straw). "Nice. Bit sweet."


"Like you," Denis said.


Julien didn't even have time to react to that atrocious line as the rest of the table erupted into laughter, but no one was laughing louder than Bas.


"How much did that line cost you? 5p? Was that all you could afford?" Bas was drying his his eyes with the back of his hand. "Whew, that was excellent. Thank you for that."


"Oh, shove it," Denis told him. "He's been making fun of my pick up lines since we were twelve," he explained to Julien.


"I can see why." Julien raised an eyebrow at him. "That was terrible. One wonders how on earth you manage to get people to date you."


"Yes, how did you manage to get Julien to date you?" Bas piped up.


Denis grinned. "Ah, but I didn't, did I?" He turned to Julien, still grinning. He looked rather like a very self satisfied cat. No, dog - there wasn't anything cat-like about Denis, who - colouring notwithstanding - reminded Julien more of a golden retriever. "You were the one who called me and said 'wanna be boyfriends'. All I did was tick the box that said 'yes'."


"Oh for -" Julien flushed. "You were the one who gave me your number! And you were the one who asked me out on a date!"


"Which I wouldn't have done if you hadn't called me back," Denis pointed out, to his great satisfaction.


Julien didn't know whether to glare daggers at him or to blush, so he did both.


"Cheer up love, I'm making a point to my friends," Denis said, pointing his elbow at Bas, who was staring at the two of them. "Namely, that I did none of the seducing."


"I didn't do any of the seducing either," Julien muttered.


"You didn't have to." Denis tipped Julien's chin up. His eyes had softened and the mischief had all but disappeared. "It was enough that you called me back."


Oh.


Denis was serious about this - this attraction. Julien had known it all this time but he'd thought of it in an abstract sense, as something that wasn't quite real or something that he could pretend was only hypothetical. Looking into his eyes now, he could see plainly that Denis wasn't just interested, there was feeling there. And hope.


He should've stopped himself, really, before this thing went off the rails, but maybe - just maybe - Julien's own theoretical and totally non-existent attraction wasn't as abstract as he'd believed it to be. When Denis's eyes flickered downwards to Julien's lips and the eye contact broke, he really couldn't have stopped it anymore.


Julien leaned in to kiss Denis.


He was only vaguely aware of the whoops and whistles around him as his entire worldview shifted to focus on the person in front of him; the softness of his lips, the hand that had dropped from his chin to cup his jaw instead, the urgency with which he kissed back, and the warm feeling pooling low in his stomach.


Eventually Julien broke the kiss, pulling back. Denis' freckles were invisible against the flush on his cheeks and his eyes had turned a darker green.


He was beautiful.


Julien turned to his milkshake, which was starting to look melty, and picked the chocolate wafer out of it. "Want this?" he held it out to Denis, who took it from him.


"Not a fan?" Denis' voice was slightly off - a bit rough, a bit breathy.


"M-m," Julien answered, lips wrapped around the twirly straw in his milkshake. He hoped the cold would help combat the heat he felt in his own cheeks.


Shit. red devils take him. Or something else clever.


***



Once the milkshakes had been polished off and the teasing had ceased, a consensus was reached; they were going to the pub. Almost a consensus, anyway; Julien hadn't chipped in, instead opting to lean into Denis' side, quietly observing the conversation and trying not to reveal that he was freaking out.


Full on internal screaming and neurotic kittens panicking up in his head.


Julien needed to put some distance between him and Denis before this thing between them turned into a Thing, that he'd then have to deal with and have feelings about and - and protect. This was fake. It had to continue to be fake so he could take Denis to the cabin and put on a fake proposal show for André's benefit and then...quietly break it off afterwards and...continue to be friends.


Friends. Anything else was too terrifying.


As the others pulled their jackets on, Julien slipped past Denis and went over to speak with his bodyguard for the evening, Philippe - Sam was off duty that weekend - who'd been standing quietly and unobtrusively near the entrance of the restaurant with Denis' and Évariste's guards. "Call up the car, please? I'd like to go home."


Philippe nodded and Julien rejoined the others, barely registering Philippe speaking into his headset.


By the time their overly large group made it outside, Julien's car pulled up in front of the entrance. The royal seal on the hood forestalled any questions, but Denis stopped in his tracks when he saw it.


"Come over here, please," Julien told him in soft tones, extracting him from the group and towards relative privacy a couple of steps away. His palms were clammy. "I'm not coming to the pub."


"Why not?" Denis frowned. "I thought…"


"I know." Julien took in a deep breath, then continued: "I don't want to lie to you and make up an excuse, pretend I have some important business elsewhere. I shouldn't have done that. Kissed you like that, I mean. I...I'm sorry. That was a mistake on my part."


Denis face fell, and he took a step back.


A stone dropped into Julien's stomach. "I'm sorry," he said. "I don't want to lead you on, so I thought it best to clarify things straight away. I got caught up in the moment, and...I shouldn't have done that. I'm sorry."


"I - okay," Denis said, roughly, then turned to go.


Julien caught his elbow. "Wait. When will I see you again? Lunch next week sometime?"


"I'm busy next week," Denis told him, his tone harsher than expected.


It stung, and it shouldn't have, but it did. And Julien had no right to complain about it. "Oh. Okay, I, uhm -"


Denis sighed. "I'll see you at Princess Sofie's wedding, yeah?"


"Of course." Julien forced a smile. It wasn't a rejection, but the wedding was almost two weeks away. "I'll see you then."


He slid into the backseat of the car, thumping the backseat to let the driver know they could leave. He did not wait to watch Denis leave with their friends. Not speaking to Denis for two weeks was probably a good thing, all things considered.


Right?


***



Something about julien being upset at not seeing denis, realising his feelings are Real, realising he's fucked, also realising he needs to go for it. Oh and, denis not responding to his texts, julien trying to get ahead of his coursework because he's going to sweden for four days for a wedding, and the glimpses he gets of denis at university are the worst possible form of torture. Realising he needs to apologise and make things right. Add andré and/or friends asking if there's trouble in paradise/where is denis/what's going on.


Bring up the winter fair toy again seeing as it has gone completely unmentioned this far



The ceremony had been lovely, if a bit long. The dinner following the ceremony had been great, Julien had been seated with some distant cousins blah blah, and conversations had flowed smoothly. Now, however, he wanted to shower and maybe take a nap before the party; the princess and her now-husband-and-prince had invited their closest friends and cousins, including Julien, to a private party in the evening. Being of the young and modern sort, the party was themed and the dress code on Julien's invitation read like a gothic novel had rolled around in glitter.


It was quite possible it had.


Denis was also at the wedding, Julien knew; not only had both he and the Royal staff told him - albeit in two very different situations and for two very different purposes - but Julien had seen him. They hadn't been seated close together, but Denis hadn't been so far away that he didn't occasionally catch a stray word or the timbre of his voice.


They hadn't spoken since the dinner almost ten days prior. Julien had texted him a few times, but received only short replies, and he hadn't had any 'accidental' run-ins with Denis in the corridors of Windhof. It'd been eating away at him - whatever else they were supposed to be outwardly, he'd hoped they'd become friends.


If kissing Denis had been a mistake, it'd been an even bigger mistake to take it back afterwards. [move to previous chapter]


Now, as Julien ascended the stairs to the rooms that had been prepared for him at the palace, Julien spotted Denis waiting outside his door.


"Hello, there," Julien said, coming to a halt in front of Denis. They were alone; within the palace they did not need bodyguards, but soon enough other guests would be arriving, heading for their own rooms.


"This your room? I wasn't aware." Denis stepped away from the door, shrugging apologetically. Julien didn't miss the way his eyes twinkled with amusement; Denis absolutely was here on purpose.


Julien's heart fluttered ever so slightly.


"Are you coming to the party tonight?" he thought probably Denis had received an invitation, but one could never be sure. He hadn't brought it up in any of his brief texts over the past ten days.


"I am. I was hoping to see you there." Denis smiled and stepped closer, leaning in as if he were going to...what? There was something steely and determined in Denis' eyes that Julien hadn't seen before.


Being so close to Denis again after almost two weeks apart was doing funny things to Julien's insides. He'd missed him, he abruptly realised. How'd that saying go? Absence makes the heart grow fonder? Taking in Denis' scent and the serious look on his face as he leaned in, Julien found that he very much wanted Denis to get closer. He opened his mouth, not sure what he was going to say, but then closed it again. What could he say?


A sound from the staircase startled them, and Denis stepped away swiftly. "I'll see you at the party," he said, bowed slightly, and disappeared through the door opposite Julien's.


Disappointment flooded Julien's veins.


Julien briefly wondered if it was a coincidence that their rooms were not only on the same floor, but located opposite one another, but then dropped the thought. He needed a shower.


The sound from the stairwell resolved itself into a pair of voices, but they were soon shut out as Julien let himself into his own room.


He was going to see Denis at the party. He'd...talk to him then. Sofie had arranged for an entire nightclub to be at their disposal, in private and heavily guarded against intruders and paparazzi both. Julien rarely went out, not because of security concerns, but because inevitably there would be pictures in the papers the morning after, along with insinuations or commentary on his person, and it just wasn't worth it. Sofie, he knew, faced similar challenges - they all did. Getting to drink and let loose in privacy and the company of kin...Julien was looking forward to it very much.


There were, however, also butterflies in his stomach. Something had almost happened out in the hallway.


Julien undid the top row of buttons on his ceremonial uniform to get some air and went into the bathroom. He splashed cold water into his face, had a sip of water, and then ran his hand through his hair as he bent over the sink, trying to stomp out the butterflies.


He could no longer deny that he was attracted to Denis. Not only that - he liked him. He enjoyed his company, his humour, the way his mouth softened and his eyes twinkled when he looked at him. If he didn't watch out, he would fall - hard.


He was already falling.


They'd shared one kiss.


Julien nearly buckled under the desire of wanting more.


He straightened up, picking up a towel to dry his face. He needed a shower, and a nap, and to find some way to steel himself before seeing Denis again tonight, so that he wouldn't...what? Pounce on him? Julien dropped the towel and looked in the mirror.


Spirits, he was a mess. His hair was unruly, his cheeks flushed with heat and his lip red from worrying at it. The open row of buttons on his uniform just underscored the image; if he hadn't unbuttoned those buttons, he might've been able to pass himself off as someone who'd just run through some brisk wind and not someone who was having a minor lust-and-feelings based melt down in a guest suite in the royal palace of Sweden. Or someone who'd just had a handsy roll in the hay, metaphorically speaking.


Abruptly, Julien pushed away from the sink and walked back out of the bathroom and to the door leading to the hallway. Before his nerve could abandon him, he swung the door open, checked that the hallway was clear, and crossed to Denis' door.


He knocked.


Julien counted four crows on the roof - seconds - before he heard steps on the other side of the door, and then it opened to reveal Denis. He had shed his own ceremonial jacket already and was evidently in the process of loosening his cuffs, one flapped open while the other was half undone. "Hi," Julien said taking no pains to hide how appealing he thought the sight was, raking his eyes up and down Denis' body, and fastening for a second on the bit of skin visible above his collar, "can I come in?"


"Yes," Denis answered, reaching out for him as Julien stepped into his personal space; even before the door closed behind him, his mouth was on Denis' mouth and his hands tugging his shirt out of his trousers.


***



[add in julien's apology to denis about the rejection at the restaurant. Real talk needed!]


"Can I have a picture?" Denis slid his hand over Julien's hip, pulling him closer. The sheets rustled as Julien let himself be manhandled like that.


"Of me?" Julien put his mouth on Denis' neck. "You can cut one out of the paper, if you like."


"Of us." Denis turned Julien's face up, kissing the corner of his eye. "Like this." His nose. "Now." His mouth.


"Mh, maybe," Julien murmured. "If you keep kissing me like that. What do you want it for?"


Denis didn't answer quite yet, just pressed Julien into the mattress, mouthing down his neck and grinding his hips slowly against Julien's. It sent a little jolt up Julien's spine, and he sighed into Denis' hair, quite content with all this attention.


"For my lock screen," Denis said.


"Oh?" Julien opened his eyes, stilling his hands on Denis' body. Then, in an attempt to cover up his surprise, he asked: "what's currently on your lock screen, that you want to replace it?"


Denis slid off Julien, raising himself up on one elbow so he could look at him. "My dog," he answered, eyes twinkling.


"Harsh." Julien smiled. "Poor dog."


"He'll live." Denis, seemingly unable to keep his hands off Julien even if he was currently half pressed against this body, and, Julien noted, half-hard again, dropped his fingers to walk on Julien's chest. "What do you say? Want to adorn my lock screen? It's a sacred position. Comes with a lot of responsibility."


Julien watched Denis' face, searching for any kind of sign of deceit, but he found none. In all these weeks of flirting, Denis had seemed nothing but genuine and now was no exception. Julien found only Denis' fond smile, the twinkle in his eye, and a horrendous bed head that he'd helped put there. "I'll have to think about it," he said, smiling, "seeing as I don't know how I'll ever live up to the virtues of a golden retriever." He pulled Denis down for a kiss. "Thought you'd said us," he murmured.


"I did say that." Another kiss. "Is that a yes?"


"Fetch your phone before I change my mind."


Denis stole another kiss, then rolled over and slipped out of bed. He rooted about in his suitcase for a while, but found his phone soon enough and returned to bed.


"I want to see what I'm up against," Julien said, snuggling close and beckoning for the phone. "Show me."


"There's no contest," Denis told him, handing his phone over. The lock screen did indeed depict a golden retriever; he was rolling on his back on a grassy lawn, tongue lolling, looking like the happiest dog on the planet.


"So you say, but that is just adorable. Absolutely gorgeous," Julien replied, handing the phone back.


"So are you." Denis turned, kissing Julien on whatever surface of him happened to be closest, which in this case was his forehead.


"Matter of opinion," Julien commented, but he let the argument slip, instead pulling Denis down into a real kiss.


He didn't know how he was ever going to make it out of this bed again. Denis was intoxicating, had always been, and now that Julien and given into it, he didn't want to let go. Even if he still wanted a shower - even more so, now - and had a party to go to.


"All right," Denis said against his lips, "let's see." And then he pulled away and was looking at his phone, and it took Julien a moment to realise that Denis had already taken a photo - or several.


"Wait - you already -" Julien glanced at the phone. "Could've given me a warning."


"Nope. Which one, do you think?" Denis thumbed through the photos, tilting the screen so Julien could see.


All the photos were slightly off kilter and some were blurry, but they were… The butterflies returned to Julien's stomach. "They're all nice," he said. "Maybe that one? I like how you look in that one."


Denis paused, considering the photo. "All right, that one it is." A few taps on the screen and the photo was on the lock screen, Denis grinning happily.


"It's…" Julien struggled to find the words as he stared at Denis' phone, and the photograph of the two of them. It was off kilter, only a little blurry, but showed clearly the little tug of a smile at the corner of Denis' mouth as he kissed Julien, and Julien's fingers curled in Denis' hair.


The screen went black and Julien pressed the home button to bring the lock screen back. He couldn't help but stare at it, trying to figure out what the butterflies in his stomach were doing, what kind of emotion it was he was feeling.


"You okay?" Denis dropped the phone on the little table by the bed. "You have a strange look on your face."


"It just hit me. It's...real. Now. This thing between us."


"Real?" Denis' hand slid over to Julien's hip. "You didn't think I wanted that photo for the benefit of this 'fake relationship', did you? Or that this, what we just did, did you think that was fake?"


Julien didn't answer right away. There was a strange light in Denis' eyes, some kind of worry that hadn't been there before. With a jolt, he realised that Denis was insecure. Afraid, even, that...that what? That Julien would walk out after this and not look back? It was entirely justified, Julien realised, after what he'd done at the restaurant. "No. I think you and I both know that this stopped being fake a long time ago." He touched his thumb to Denis' lip. "If it ever was."


The warm smile that spread on Denis' lips tugged at Julien's heart.


No, this definitely wasn't fake.



Julien had managed to extricate himself from Denis' bed eventually, and after checking that the coast was clear, he'd scurried back into his own room, wearing only trousers (not done up), and carrying the rest of his clothing in a bundle in his arms. What he could find of his clothing, anyway; he was pretty sure there was a sock missing, and he hadn't been able to locate his underwear.


That was fine.


He was showered now and dressed, and was putting the finishing touches on his hair. What was originally intended to be a slicked back glittery vampiric look was now becoming artfully tousled bedhead, because Julien was definitely hoping to secure all of Denis' attention at the party, and he'd responded so nicely to his unruly hair earlier... The hair modelling wax he was using had glitter in it, the kind that added a lovely shimmer to his hair and enhanced the natural vibrancy of his golden locks. He was positively dazzling.


Satisfied with his hair, Julien moved on to the makeup; he'd purchased black kohl and red lipgloss for the occasion. The eyeliner took a bit of work to get right, but eventually he had successfully rimmed his eyes in black. The lipgloss was easier, and soon his lips were shimmering with red. Both the eyeliner and lipgloss had glitter in it, so Julien shimmered in the bathroom light from all angles.


It was pretty amazing.


Julien inspected his clothes - tight black dress trousers, black dress shirt tucked into the trousers, sleeves rolled up and the top two buttons undone. Perfect. Bedhead, dramatic eyes, red lips. Glitter. Grinning at himself in the mirror, Julien took a selfie and uploaded it to his instagram account. #ready2party #royalwedding #dresscodegothicnovelrolledinglitter


Within two minutes he'd gotten 139 likes.



Julien had missed two days of lectures and studio hours due to the royal wedding (who the hell had decided to have a wedding this close to the holidays? Princess Sofie, that was who), and exams were coming up. In addition to that, he had several public appearances to make as Prince, none of which he could bow out of: as ambassador to several charities, simply showing up at the parties wasn't enough - he was required to give speeches and participate in at least one dance at every event...and Julien always ended up staying longer, especially when children were involved. He'd dance with every child who asked him to, and those who were too shy to ask, and those who wouldn't or couldn't dance, he chatted with.


It was his favourite time of year, and he loved being out amongst his people and celebrating with them, but it was exhausting.


Denis sending him a steady stream of texts throughout the week wasn't making it any less stressful. He was as busy as Julien was - they barely even ran into each other at university, either, having dropped the long lunch breaks for quick bites of food between lectures, study sessions in the library and coursework - and the texts were both a cruel reminder of what he was missing as well as his only contact with Denis.


And yet Julien wouldn't have been without them.


He was taking photos with children in a mixed kindergarten; they'd had cookies and danced earlier, and they'd gotten to the part of the event where the programme ended, and Julien was free to go. Instead of leaving, he was surrounded by children aged four to six, who all wanted to take silly-face selfies with Prince Julien. He was just about to take a photo with a pair of twins who were more fée than human, and who'd left fée dust all over his clothes as they'd clambered over him, when a notification ticked in on the screen.


"You got a text message!" the girl shouted excitedly, pointing. "Is it from the king?" That last word was spoken with a breathless reverence that seemingly only excited children were capable of producing.


"Don't be silly, the king doesn't know how to send a text message," her brother told her. "He's too old."


Julien laughed. "It's not a text message from the king," he told them. "It's a snapchat from my boyfriend." He opened the app to have a quick look. The snap was an image of a table covered in homemade holiday greeting cards with a distinct childish touch to them, overlaid with the text I'm covered in glitter. Julien couldn't help smiling.


"Boyfriends are icky," the girl said then. "I'd rather a girlfriend.


"Girlfriends are nice," Julien told her. "Come on now, we didn't get the photo. Don't forget to make a silly face!"


The twins instantly retook their poses, depositing more fée dust on Julien's clothes. He positioned the camera, pulled a silly face, and took the photo before the kids lost their concentration.


"I want to see!" The twins tugged at Julien's arms, and he obediently pulled up the camera roll and the most recent photo.


"We look proper silly," he told them, and the twins giggled.


"Are you going to show it to your boyfriend?" the boy twin asked.


"Is your boyfriend also a prince?" the girl twin asked.


"Yes, he's a prince too," Julien answered, "and no - well - do you want me to show him?"


"Yes!"


"Okay." Julien let them watch over his shoulder as he opened the photo in snapchat and added text (I see your glitter and raise you fée dust), and then sent it. "There."


"Has he seen it yet?"


Julien cast a quick glance around the room. A good number of people had already left, but there seemed to still be children waiting for a chance to talk to him or take a silly photo. "He's busy at the moment, so it might be a while before he sees it," he told the twins. "Why don't you run along and find your parents and tell them all about it? It's somebody else's turn now."


The twins nodded solemnly, then raced each other over to the refreshments table, where (presumably) their parents were talking to a kindergarten teacher.


Julien turned to the next child who'd been hovering close, gave her a brilliant smile and asked if she wanted to make silly faces. The girl nodded shyly.


An hour later, as he was slumped tiredly into the backseat of the car and chugging down a bottle of water, Denis sent another text.


you look cute, it said.


I always look cute, Julien texted back. Especially when covered in fée dust. I think this stuff is permanent. It may never come off.


His phone was silent, so Julien closed his eyes for a moment. It wasn't terribly late in the day, but he had a painting to finish for his Renaissance course and an essay to hand in before Monday, and he'd already had a long day. Children were so noisy, when they got together in large numbers like this, and Julien thought maybe his ears were ringing a bit.


No, his ears weren't ringing. His phone was.


"Hello?" Julien answered without looking at the screen. He yawned.


"Hello," said Denis. "I hope I'm not calling at a bad time."


"Oh! Hi!" Julien was suddenly a lot more awake. "No, it's fine, I'm in the car. I'll be home in a bit." He hesitated for a second; this was the first time they'd really spoken since Sofie's wedding. Text messages and snaps didn't really count, Julien thought. "I'm glad you called."


"Yeah?" Denis' sounded warm. A little hoarse, maybe - had the glittery cards somehow involved a screaming match with the children? "I'm glad I called, then."


"Mmhh." Julien slid a little lower in the seat. "How's your week been?"


"Crazy." Denis let out a soft breath. "Lovely, too. I missed you."


"Yeah, I...missed you too."


There was a slight pause, and then a scratchy sound on the other end of the line.


"Hey, listen," Denis said. "It's my mum's birthday tomorrow. We're having a small family thing, nothing fancy, just us, some cake and some peace and quiet. Would you like to come?"


Now Julien's ears were definitely ringing. "Are you asking me to come meet your family?"


"I suppose I am." Denis wasn't laughing, or chuckling, he just sounded tired. Warm tired. "I know it's a bit sudden, given we've only technically been together for what, a week? But… they know. And I thought maybe it'd be nice. It's really good cake! My mum makes it herself, every year, it's a family recipe..."


"You told them?" Julien felt faint. When had he told them? This week? Today? Or had he told them before it became real?


"Should I not have?" Denis sounded worried. "I thought…"


"It's fine!" Julien said that maybe a bit too quickly. "I, ah - wait." He leaned forwards and tapped his bodyguard's shoulder. "Sam, do you have my schedule for tomorrow?"


Sam fished an itinerary out of his breast pocket and handed it over.


"Cheers," Julien said and leaned back in the seat to look it over. "When's the do?" he asked Denis.


"Are you coming?"


"I don't know yet. Depends on my schedule," Julien answered. "I would like to," he added, softer. Truth to be told, he didn't know when he would next get a chance to see Denis at all. He'd be going to Ollenie with his family right after exams to spend the holidays with their cousins, and his schedule was packed until then. If this was his only chance to see Denis until after the holidays, he wanted to take it.


"Right." Denis cleared his throat. "Three in the afternoon for cake. We've blocked out the day for the purpose, so anytime that is convenient for you would be convenient for me, but uh, the cake will be at three."


"Three." Julien looked at the schedule. In the morning he had a thing with the Melusine-Human Alliance, so that wouldn't do, after lunch he had studio hours at university, and at five he had a fundraiser dinner with the Learning Through Art Foundation. He was auctioning off a couple of his own paintings for the purpose and had arranged a personal donation under a pseudonym as well. Julien could probably cut studio hours short to make it to Trier for cake, but he wouldn't have time to change for the dinner, and he would have to find time elsewhere in his schedule to finish the coursework paintings. "Hmm. What's the dresscode?"


"No dresscode," Denis replied. "It's casual. You could show up in pyjamas for all I care."


Suppose he brought a change of clothes? He could leave it in the car and change en route, though he was loathe to do it. Or he could show up in dress finery and risk coming across as too formal or stuck up or any number of other things he didn't want to be Denis' family first impression of him. It didn't matter that they'd technically met before; there'd been a good number of formal functions over the years that had their families in the same room and shaking hands. This was different.


This meant that Denis expected this to last. Julien hadn't thought that far ahead, but it was slowly dawning on him that he'd not given Denis reason to think otherwise. Denis had met his father early on, and even though it was during the initial fake phase and it wasn't meant to mean anything, he had to admit that it'd been a pretty strong signal to send. No wonder that Denis hadn't turned down the charm one iota, he must've thought… Well, it didn't really matter now, did it? It'd become real. That was all that mattered now. It was real.


"Julien?" Denis sounded worried again.


"Sorry, I was thinking." Julien sighed. "I can squeeze you in, but I have a fundraiser at five. What should I do? Show up ridiculously overdressed for cake, or...I don't have time get back here and change."


"Change at mine," Denis said without hesitation. "Just bring your stuff and change at mine. It's fine. We understand, you know? Cilla already had a go at me for inviting you last minute. Said it was rude."


Julien smiled. "You really want me to come, do you?"


"Yeah. I do."


"I also really want to see you," Julien said, sighing a little. "All right. I'll try to make it at three."


The car slowed down before the gate to the inner courtyard as it opened, then went through. The first thing Julien wanted to do before he did anything else was have a shower.


***



Exactly five minutes to three, Julien's car was let inside the Kasteel van Thijs courtyard, where it pulled up beside the main entrance. Just as soon as the car came to a halt, the door opened and Denis stepped out.


Julien's heart leaped at the sight of him standing there. Even as some staff or other spilled out behind Denis to direct Julien's driver and bodyguard to somewhere to chill, Julien had eyes only for Denis, a huge smile spreading on his face.


It took him precisely half a second to get out of the car and then Denis was there, kissing him, and Julien thought that maybe this moment could be what cured hunger and brought world peace.


"Hi," Julien grinned, breathlessly, after a while.


"Hi," Denis answered, just as breathless. He stole another kiss, then stepped back and took Julien's hand. "Come inside and meet the others."


Julien just nodded, suddenly nervous. He linked their fingers together, perhaps gripping Denis' hand harder than he really needed to, and followed him inside.


"It'll be fine," Denis whispered. "They already like you."


"What did you tell them about me? When did you tell them?" Julien whispered back. Denis was leading him through straight hallways and large decorative rooms with even floors and tall ceilings; it was all very orderly and nice, a direct contrast to his own old palace, which looked like a child had taken different sized building blocks and thrown them together randomly. No floors were even, or even at a level with one another (Julien had stumbled over the slightly-too-high step to the dining room more times than he could count), the ceilings were of various heights, and the entire palace was a mess of different architectural styles, the result of a palace that had started out as a simple mansion, and then was extended and expanded through the ages as various monarchs saw fit. Kasteel van Thijs was new in comparison to Palais-Sophie, and it showed; like how medieval cities often rebuilt in straight lines after razing fires.


Denis paused in front of a large set of french doors with coloured glass inlaid. Julien was too nervous to pay attention to any patterns the colours made out. "Hey," he said. "All I've told them is this: I'm in love with you."


"Oh," Julien breathed, and then promptly was at a loss for words. In love? Those were strong words for strong feelings, and Julien hadn't expected them so soon. And Denis had told his family - it was very possible that Julien would actually faint in the next few minutes. His skull felt too tight. Denis' family would be looking at him like...like what? Like the person their precious son and brother was in love with. Spirits help me.


"It's true," Denis said, interrupting the derailing train of Julien's thoughts, and pulled him in for a soft kiss. "It's just through here. Are you ready?"


"Yeah." Julien cleared his throat, then drew in a deep breath. If nothing else, he could always trust his upbringing and impeccable manners to see him through the next hour or so. "Okay. Yes. I'm ready."


Denis pushed the doors open to reveal a small and comfortable sitting room: there were plush sofas and chairs covered in cushions and blankets, small tables currently laden with fruit, sweets and one monstrous and mouthwatering cake, and all of Denis' immediate family dotted around the room, dressed in sweaters and slippers. They'd all paused what they were doing, be it conversation, card games, or tea-drinking, to look at the two of them.


"He's here," Denis announced, and Julien grasped his hand again, squeezing it hard.


"Oh, how wonderful!" A tall woman, who Julien recognised as Queen Aleida, stood up from her chair and walked over to greet them. She kissed both of Julien's cheeks. "Welcome. I'm Aleida, Denis' mother. I'm so pleased you could make it! It's so lovely to finally meet you."


"The pleasure is all mine, Your Majesty. Ma'am," Julien heard himself say, taking Aleida's hand and kissing it, as was custom in Trier. Thank the spirits for all those horrible court classes he'd had to endure as a child. "And the happiest of birthdays to you."


"No need for such formality," she said, smiling. Julien noticed she had the faintest possible dimples in her cheeks. Denis hadn't inherited those, though it seemed he'd gotten his auburn waves from his mother. "Come, meet my daughters and husband."


One by one he was introduced to Denis' sisters: Angelien, the oldest, who was in the same year as Julien at Windhof though they didn't share any classes, the twins Cilla and Daniëlle, and finally Evelien, who was the youngest of the bunch at only ten. Last he shook hands with King Hubrecht, who had a twinkle in his eye not dissimilar to the one Julien found in Denis' eye. Making polite small talk was easy, but Julien's nerves were starting to get the better of him.


They were nice, that wasn't it, but they were all looking at him, probably assessing him - all but Evelien, who wasn't so much looking at him as she was frowning. That boded well.


"Mum, Julien's on a tight schedule," Denis said, now firmly taking hold of Julien's elbow and steering him towards the plush sofa Evelien and Cilla had been sitting on when they entered. "I promised him cake."


Aleida set about cutting the cake in slices so large they barely fit on the plates, and Angelien handed them out.


"Do you two want a slice to share?" Angelien asked, little smirk on her face.


Julien blushed. Denis had taken the corner of the sofa, and then pulled Julien so close that he was essentially nestled into the crook of his arm. It felt far too intimate for polite company, despite the familiarity and relaxed atmosphere in the room. He was saved from having to answer (and figuring out which would be the least impolite response), by Denis' breaking out into laughter.


"Absolutely not. Bring it here," he said. "And no funny tricks!"


Much to Julien's relief, Angelien only rolled her eyes at her brother and then brought over two plates. Soon after, Evelien claimed the other corner of the sofa, plate balanced on her knees.


"What's your favourite colour?" she asked.


This line of questioning Julien could handle just fine. "Blue." He carefully carved out a bite of cake with his spoon. The cake, he saw, was a five layered monster of spongey chocolate cake and what looked like three different kinds of mousse, one of them dark pink. "What's yours?" he returned, when Evelien didn't comment on his answer.


"Green. But not all of the greens, just this kind of green." She pulled on the hem of her sweater, which was a mottled moss green. "What kind of blue do you like?"


"I like all kinds of blue," Julien answered, now smiling. "But I like it best when it's the kind of blue the sky is just after the stars have come out, but before the sky turns black."


Evelien nodded thoughtfully. "That's acceptable," she declared, and started in on her own piece of cake, completely ignoring Julien.


Startled, he turned to Denis, who was licking his spoon and regarding the two of them with amusement. "Was that a test?" he asked. "More importantly, did I pass?"


"You passed!" shouted Cilla from a chair on the other side of the room.


Denis just winked. "I told you."


"Not about this," Julien argued, but without any heat. He leaned into Denis, savouring the feeling of getting to be so close to him, and finally tasted the cake on his plate.


It was lovely.


"Denis tells me you go to Windhof," Aleida said, politely - this was public knowledge, after all - and turned her chair towards the sofa. "What are you studying?"


"I'm double majoring in Art History and Fine Arts," Julien told her. "Or, at least I will be next semester, I've already put in my application to upgrade Fine Arts from a minor."


"That's an interesting choice." She nodded, then looked at him expectantly, clearly waiting for him to elaborate on his choices.


Julien considered his words. "I always liked history, in school," he started. "And arts. I chose to study Art History over History because Art History offers a perspective on history that's more subjective than History. I mean to say, historical facts are just that: facts. But Art History is about the history of art, and by proxy the history of man. How we choose to portray the world tells us things that history alone can't."


Aleida was twirling her spoon in her mouth, her gaze turned inwards. Then she pulled the spoon out. "I wouldn't say that history is entirely objective. Which facts are put down for posterity and which aren't are certainly entirely reliant on the subjective choices of history writers, wouldn't you say? Not to mention things like letters, newspaper articles and such, these will inevitably colour our perception of historical events."


"This is true." Julien tipped his head in acknowledgement. "What I mean is that History seems the dry way of looking at history, in my opinion - take for example the Treaty of Trier. There's nothing subjective about saying that 'in the year 1874 a treaty was signed that ensured peace between Trier and Vallée'. It's a fact, that is what happened. Your newspapers would've covered the event differently than ours, that's subjective. But art!" Julien gestured with his spoon. "The paintings depicting the signing of the treaty tell a story that not even the newspapers could tell. I trust that you are familiar with the Königsberg painting The Signing, completed in I believe 1876?"


"Of course. It is on display in this very castle."


"Excellent. Now, if you recall, that painting depicts the king of Vallée du Lis on the left, standing up and facing right, and wearing a red cloak hemmed with silver?" Julien waited for Aleida to nod, then continued. "On the right side of the table, you have the king of Trier, wearing a pale blue cloak hemmed with white fur, right, and surrounding these two men - mostly in the background - you have other important people, like the prime ministers of the time, lobbyists, war generals, et cetera, you know the drill. Now, have you ever noticed that the people on the left, all the Vallée folks, they are wearing slightly darker clothing than the people of Trier? They are also placed in shadow. In comparison, the Trier folks are wearing bright coloured clothing, and they appear to stand not in the shadow of their king, but in the light."


"I have noticed," Aleida said.


"Now, we know from the dry historical records that none of these people wore that clothing. The king of Vallée didn't show up to the signing in a red cloak, and the king of Trier didn't show up in a blue cloak. What could've been a neutral depiction of the signing, an objective record of the events as they happened, isn't. The painter, influenced by his own beliefs, his own political opinions, or those of the person who commissioned him to make the painting, has turned the signing of the treaty into a victory for Trier. A red cloak is a sign of defeat in Trier culture, is it not? And the pale blue and white of the king of Trier's cloak signifies the purity of his spirits and his generosity after a battle won, does it not?" Julien was slightly flustered, but not from embarrassment; it was rare he was allowed to talk about Art History at length.


Aleida was smiling. "I take your point. You don't seem particularly upset by this, shall we say, somewhat disparaging treatment of your ancestor?"


Julien blinked. "Why should I be? Trust me, we have paintings that have the whole thing flipped in our favour. It's exciting, is what I mean. Art is created by people, and as people we are unable to prevent our emotions and past experiences from colouring our perception of things, or from seeping into our creations - even when we mean them to be objective. Anyone can create a technically perfect painting, and probably even a neutral one, but it would be boring. It wouldn't be art."


"I take it technique isn't everything?" Aleida raised an eyebrow. Julien realised she was enjoying this discussion.


"No, of course not. Take for example this cake here. I'm sure that if you'd asked your chefs to make it, they would've turned up with a technically perfect cake. It would've been beautiful, of course, but boring. It wouldn't have been art. But that cake? That is a work of art. It's a little bit lopsided - I mean no offense, ma'am - which means it's not technically perfect, and that tells us that there's history behind it. You made a choice to make your own birthday cake, and already there the cake has turned into something else."


"So what you're saying is, because I presented my family with a lopsided homemade cake, it's suitable for a chapter in an art history text book because it's a subjective representation of my love for my family?"


"Precisely!" Julien punctuated the air with his spoon. "To try to get to the crude and the short of it: in my humble opinion, Art History is about people and history is about memorising dates." He dug his spoon into the cake on his plate. "They do, of course, work together. Without the plain historical knowledge of events depicted in art, we would have little context to interpret the art at all, and by extension understand the people who lived through them."


"This is all very interesting," Denis said to Julien, smiling fondly at him, "but I'm afraid I'll have to gag you, or my mum will simply kidnap you. Eat your cake, love."


Aleida's laughter rang out through the room, soon to be joined by her husband's lower rumble. Julien flushed and Denis' sisters giggled.


"I apologise," Julien said. "I, ah, tend to get carried away. This cake is exquisite, ma'am, absolutely wonderful."


"Mh, I find the lopsidedness especially tasty," Denis added, twinkle in his eye. His family erupted into laughter once more. Julien gave him a look of helpless betrayal, which only caused Denis' smile to turn more fond. He kissed Julien's temple.


***



Julien was in exams all day (whoever had decided to schedule exams on solstice should be fired, in Julien's opinion), which was why he didn't find out until the afternoon that the press had gotten wind of his and Denis' relationship, and then only because their PR guy had sent him a text message as a heads up.


Somebody had somehow gotten a picture of Julien's arrival at Kasteel van Thijs earlier in the week, including the warm welcome he received from Denis, despite the fact the castle courtyard had been closed to the public at the time. This picture, along with photographs of Valérian and Denis chatting at the water polo game the previous month, and grainy photographs of Denis, Julien and their friends stuffing their faces at the burger restaurant (there was no photo of the Kiss, which Julien hoped meant that nobody had seen it happening, or had perhaps been too slow to capture it on film), were everywhere, accompanied by "information" from what Julien was certain were fictional sources, if only because it was all inaccurate.


It didn't matter that the information wasn't accurate, the take-away was the same: Crown Prince Denis of Trier and Prince Julien of Vallée were in what seemed to be a romantic relationship.


There were no photos from Princess Sofie's private after-party in the papers, online or offline, for which Julien was eternally grateful. There had been photos taken; Sofie had put a couple of polaroid cameras into circulation during the evening, but she'd also taken care to keep them private. Julien had received his copies only yesterday. There'd been two revealing photos amongst the bunch; one of Julien and Denis on the dancefloor together, and one taken later in the evening, of the two of them in deep conversation. Julien's glittery lip gloss was smeared over both his and Denis' lips.


Julien had stuck the photos to his mirror.


Rather than alert his ride that he was ready, Julien went upstairs to the art studios, which he knew would be empty at this time, and called their PR guy.


"Hey, it's me," he said, when the line clicked, indicating that Patrice had answered the call. "I only just saw your text."


"Your highness. We've been declining comments at this time," Patrice said, getting straight to the point. "It might interest you to know that the Royal Court of Trier is doing the same."


"Thank you. I haven't had a chance to talk to Denis yet." Julien rubbed his face. "I suppose it had to come out eventually…" he sighed. It was lucky, maybe, that the press hadn't gotten wind of it earlier, but he'd hoped it wouldn't happen until after the holidays. "What's your professional advice?"


"That depends entirely on the nature of your relationship," Patrice answered delicately. "I would recommend that you make a joint announcement, however. We can call up their people and coordinate."


"Do you mean a press statement?" Julien made a face. "It seems rather…" Impersonal, he thought. Cold, dry. Not at all the impression he wanted to give his people… oh, spirits. "How are people taking it?"


"Current analysis shows positive response in Vallée."


"But?"


"Less positive in Trier," Patrice continued, sounding regretful. "It was only last year that the law was amended."


"Yeah." Julien paused. "Thank you, Patrice. I'm going to talk to Denis. Have you called a meeting already?"


"We are only waiting for you, Your Highness."


Julien ended the call, alerted his ride, and then called Denis as he made his way back downstairs and towards the entrance. Denis picked up on the second call.


"Hey," Julien said. "You're aware of the news?"


"Yes. How'd your exams go?"


"The news, Denis."


"I know. I don't care about the news. I care about you. How'd your exams go?"


Julien checked to see if his car was waiting. It was. "They went fine, I think. Won't know until I get my grades." Journalists weren't allowed access to Windhof University, but Julien looked around for them before he crossed over to the car, just in case. "How did yours go?"


"Really well. Are you still at Windhof?"


"Just leaving." The gravel churned as the car started down the driveway. Julien spotted cameras by the gate, and lowered himself in his seat despite the fact he knew they couldn't see him through the tinted windows. "Seriously, can we talk about the news for a second? I'm apparently coming home to a PR crisis meeting instead of supper."


Denis was silent on the other end for a bit. "Yeah, I was in the middle of one when you called. They want us to call a joint press conference."


"That's marginally better than a joint press statement," Julien grumbled. "Which is what our PR guy suggested. I don't really want to do that. Do you?"


"No." Pause. "I'd be coming out too."


"Oh. Right. You never did, did you? Officially."


"I never denied the rumours, because it's not a rumour if it's true," Denis said. "But I never confirmed it either. Never told anybody else but my family and close friends that I'm bisexual."


"Are you scared?"


"Terrified." Denis chuckled, but Julien could hear the strain in it. "How'd you do it?"


"By accident," Julien confessed. "I was giving an interview about something completely unrelated, and it just slipped out - I said something along the lines of 'yeah my boyfriend likes that game too', and then it was just...well. I was sixteen."


"I remember."


"I thought my world was going to end," Julien told him. "I got a lot of crap for it too, at the time."


"How'd it get better?" Denis was almost so quiet Julien couldn't hear him.


"I don't know." Julien paused, thinking. "I refused to let it get to me. I continued doing my thing - going to school, hanging out with my friends, and my boyfriend at the time, and going to water polo, and cutting ribbons, and shaking hands with foreign dignitaries, all that. And the press stopped caring, more or less. And now...well, it's been long enough that I think people are used to it. The press never asks me anymore what it's like to be a gay prince."


"Do you think…" Denis trailed off.


The car was almost at the palace. Julien looked out the window to see if anything looked off, but nothing looked out of the ordinary. Perhaps there was a slightly larger crowd than usual on the public courtyard, but it seemed fine.


"What do you want to do?" Julien asked. "Right now, what do you want?"


"I want to see you. I want to kiss you - I want to...know that this didn't change anything." Denis exhaled. "Please tell me this hasn't changed anything."


Had it? Julien hadn't exactly told Denis that he wasn't going to break up with him after the ski trip anymore. That was supposed to be a given, right? If they made it that far… it'd been little more than a month since they started fake dating, and now… Julien definitely wanted to continue to get to know Denis. He wanted to find out just how mad his heart was, how much more intoxicating Denis would be, how they would fit together in the long run...


If only they'd had the the peace and quiet to do it! [hmmm]


"It hasn't changed anything." Julien watched the crowd carefully as they drove through and to the inner courtyard. Two people were holding signs, he noticed, and for a short, terrifying moment he thought they were protest signs, but then the car swung round to the gate and Julien saw they were decorated with hearts. One of the signs read TRUE LOVE KNOWS NO BOUNDS. "Oh."


"What?" Denis sounded alarmed. "What is it?"


"Nothing, just," Julien craned his neck to look at the signs, until they disappeared from view, "some people with signs in the courtyard. With hearts on them."


"Oh."


"Hey, listen." Julien spoke softly. His heart was thumping in his chest. The car was parked right outside the door, but Julien hadn't moved yet. "I'm falling in love with you."


"Oh." The relief in Denis' voice was almost palpable.


"I know. Go back to your meeting. If I know Patrice at all, he's set up a conference call with your lot already. I'll speak to you again in a bit, okay? We'll figure out where to go from here."


"Yeah." Denis cleared his throat. "Yes. See you in a bit."


"See you." Julien ended the call and went inside.



[needs more angst re: the public knowing, and julien worrying about the fake proposal]



"Do you have any public appearances today?" Julien asked distractedly, rooting through his closet. What'd Denis said yesterday? He couldn't remember.


"No, not until tomorrow." Denis's voice was tinny, because it was currently coming from the loudspeakers of Julien's phone. The phone itself was propped up on his dressing table, aimed in the direction of the closet and the bed, on which Julien had an open suitcase. Denis' face filled the entire screen of the phone. "This may actually be the first time I'm truly nervous about showing my face in public."


Julien dug himself out the closet, arms full of t-shifts and soft flannel shirts. He dumped them in the suitcase, then went over and picked up the phone. "You'll be fine," he said.


Denis didn't look any less nervous. They'd agreed with their PR people to release a joint press statement after the holidays, to confirm their relationship, but Denis had given a brief interview on a popular talk show in Trier that same night. He'd skirted all questions relating to his love life, but he'd come out as bisexual to the public at large, and was still dealing with the aftermath. Tomorrow's event was the first public event since the talk show and Julien knew it'd nearly been cancelled due to the controversial chatter surrounding Denis.


"It's a kids thing, right?"


"Yeah," Denis said, the image on the screen getting shaky as he pinched the bridge of his nose. "I'm going to a home for troubled kids. Evelien's coming too, last minute change. So I won't be alone there at least." He smiled faintly. "There's no one else I'd rather have in my corner, to be honest. She strikes fear into the hearts of even the most battle-hardened men."


"Good." Julien put the phone down again, rewarding Denis with a view of his (clothed) belly. "The kids are unlikely to have heard the gossip, but also kids are pretty great about these things." He went back to the closet. "It'll be fine. You don't have to talk about it. Just be delightful and charming self and let Evelien scowl at anyone who wants to give you grief."


Denis was quiet for a while. Then: "I'm still not sure about that press statement."


"Me too. But… I think it's the best we can do for now," Julien said. "I'm not ready to tell the entire world yet. Are you?"


Silence. "No," Denis eventually said. Even his sigh was tinny.


This time Julien resurfaced from the closet with an armful of pyjamas.


"Just how long are you staying? A month?"


"Only ten days." Julien regarded his suitcase. "Why, do you think I'm packing too much?"


"I was wondering."


"I have about thirty cousins. And there's a lot of snow this year." Julien pulled out his sock drawer and upended it into the suitcase. "I've learned my lesson about not having enough clothes to spare."


Denis chuckled. "They not have laundry facilities in Ollenie?"


"Now that would just be rude." Julien turned towards the camera to grin at Denis. Then he pulled out his underwear drawer and upended that into the suitcase as well. "How are you celebrating?"


"Much the same as you, I think. Only we're staying here, and on the sixth day we don't have a tree."


"Oh? What do you then?"


"We go to the forest and receive our blessings there. Afterwards we usually have a fire and make pancakes and hot chocolate. You'd be surprised by how tasty fire-cooked food is."


"Huh." Julien paused in his steps, thinking. "Going to the forest makes a lot of sense, actually. Suppose the rest of us got lazy. Easier to bring the tree to you, and all that?"


"Probably." Denis was smiling on the little screen. "Maybe next year you can come along with us to the forest."


Julien froze. "Celebrate la semaine sacrée with you?"


"Only if you want." Denis cleared his throat. "I think I'd like it very much. I would've liked to see you on the third day, but…"


"Yeah." Julien sat on the edge of the bed, looking at his hands. Each day in la semaine sacrée had a specific ritual or tradition. The third day was jour des divinations as it was also the last day of the year. It was supposed to bring luck to divine the coming year with your lover - it wasn't exactly bad luck to not do it, but those who didn't often ended up parting ways within the year. The superstitious believed it was bad luck given by the spirits in retribution for the snub, but realists believed that a couple too uncomfortable with divining the year together probably weren't going to last anyway. "Do you believe it's bad luck for us?"


"I'm not sure. I've never divined with anyone else before, but I don't know that that's the reason my past relationships didn't work out," Denis answered. "I mean, it's just ice on a rock, you know? What effect is that supposed to have on anything?"


"Yeah. I suppose." Julien stood up, feeling restless all of a sudden. "But still, you know?"


"Yeah." Denis was quiet for a while. "Don't doubt the spirits, and all that."


There was a knock on Julien's door, and he panicked briefly - he hadn't finished packing yet - but then André's voice drifted through the wood. "We're leaving in half an hour!" Pause. "Julien?"


"I'm almost done!" Julien shouted back. He waited until André was definitely gone, then went over and picked up the phone, holding it so that his face filled the screen. "Hey, listen. I'm going pretty crazy. I've barely seen you since Sofie's wedding, you know? I miss you."


"I know." Denis' voice was rough. "I would've come over and climbed in through your window if it weren't for the fact that your palace is literally surrounded by a medieval moat on three sides. Or is that five sides? Also, I have no idea how to begin figuring out which window is yours."


Julien laughed, his heart skipping a beat. "Mine and André's rooms are in the old Knights' Hall. It's the white building with the small black windows and the black roof, second building to the left from the bell tower if you're looking from the senate square. The bell tower is the circular tower in red brick with the red shingled roof, by the way, the square white tower with the bell shaped blue roof is not actually the bell tower, it's a prison-dungeon-torture chamber combo. Or used to be, anyway, these days it's where the reception chambers are. You know, visiting presidents and monarchs and stuff, that's where we receive them. You've been there formally."


"...Right."


"I'll give you the full tour some time," Julien told him. "I'll make sure you don't get lost."


"Wouldn't want to get lost in the torture chambers, no," Denis said. He was smiling, but then his eyes turned serious. "Hey. When will I get to see you again?"


"I don't know." Julien sighed. "We'll be back here on the Monday after le semaine sacrée concludes… When Uni starts again? Honestly, I'd smuggle you into Ollenie and the palace in my art satchel if I thought you could fit in there."


Pause. "Is smuggling strictly necessary? I mean...it seems silly, when everyone actually knows."


"I suppose." Julien wandered over to the window.


"What about the masked ball on the fourth day?"


"What about it?"


"Save the third dance for me?"


Julien smiled. "Are you going to crash the queen's masked ball?"


"Maybe." Denis smiled back.


"What about your own ball?"


"If you save the third dance for me I can be back in time for the ninth dance, probably," Denis said. "La Grandville isn't that far. No-one will notice I'm gone."


"Is that a promise?"


"That's a promise."


***



"There is something seriously wrong with our lives," Évariste said. He was currently occupying the other half of the sofa that Julien had parked himself on, and that he'd picked because it was the furthest away from everyone else. What with thirty cousins, the palace was a bit crowded, a bit noisy, and full of well-meaning relatives.


Julien just wanted to text his boyfriend in peace. "How so?"


"You and me, effectively single, during the holidays."


"I'm not single. You, however…" Julien trailed off meaningfully.


"Ha ha. Your beau isn't here, so single you are."


If anybody could manage to sip wine glumly, it was Évariste.


"You don't even have a beau," Julien replied. "Or has Bram finally given in to your charms?"


Évariste gave his phone the stink-eye, as if it was solely responsible for his terrible love life. "He keeps evading me. It's driving me bonkers, you know? He's interested enough, but when push comes to shove he suddenly has somewhere to be or something and it's radio silence for hours, if not days."


"Mixed signals much, huh?"


"How many failed attempts do I have to get through before I find The One?" Évariste stared into his glass.


Julien thought maybe it was time to take that glass away. And the bottle. And the other bottle. "You have your whole life to find The One," he said.


"Says you, who's going to propose to someone you've only known for two months. If that's not true love, I don't know what it is."


"I never said I was going to propose -"


"Actually, I believe your exact words were 'I'll propose to my boyfriend if I damn well want to and André can suck it'," Évariste said, doing the finger quotes as well as managing to perfectly replicate Julien's particular drunk idiolect.


"I'm feeling very attacked right now," Julien told him, hand on his heart. "Are you attacking me? You're attacking me. Might as well declare war."


"Declare war on you, your honour, your spirits, and your entire bloody country," Évariste said. "I'll usurp the throne and become king of Vallée and then I'll just order Bram to marry me. He'll have to, as my underling."


"Isn't Bram from Trier?"


"Oh, bollocks. There goes my plan."


"Not much of a plan, is it?" Julien nudged him with his foot. He was wearing blue woollen socks with a pattern of grey fish on them, courtesy of Évariste's aunt, who happened to also be queen of Ollenie (the first reigning queen in five generations). Apparently, she liked to knit to destress.


Julien had already sent Denis a snapchat of the socks.


"Perhaps it's time to employ the time old play hard to get technique," Évariste mused. "No more asking for dates. Instead, I shall be perfectly aloof -"


"When has that ever worked for you?" Julien nudged him again. "Don't forget that Bram's just a rich kid. You're a prince. If you start getting all distant, that's only going to deter him more, not encourage him. He's going to think you've lost all interest in him."


Évariste frowned. "You think this is about status, then?"


"Could be." Julien shrugged. "You never know until you ask, do you? Have you actually talked to him about this, or have you just leered at him?"


"Oi! I do not leer."


Julien waited patiently for Évariste to get over himself.


"I haven't actually talked to him about it."


"Let that be your project this holiday, then." Julien tapped his phone. Denis had been silent for a while…probably busy doing family stuff. I'm playing relationship therapist, he texted. Given that ours started out fake, I'm really not sure I'm qualified for the job.


"What, like Bram is a papermaché art piece I need to do work on?" Évariste huffed. "I'd like to make it clear that I do actually like him, and am not just trying to get into his pants."


Julien regarded Évariste, who was all balled up - long limbs and all - on the other end of the sofa. "I know," he said. "Do we know which way he swings, though? He's not just coming across all mixed signals because he's reading something different into things?"


"He's bisexual." Évariste let out a long breath. "Maybe I should call him."


"Mmh, maybe you should."


Évariste was chewing on his lip and Julien waited patiently for him to speak again. "What if I'm scaring him off?"


"See, this is why I think you should talk to him. Put all the cards on the table." Julien's phone vibrated.


which of your thirty cousins is in marital distress?


Julien smiled. Évariste. He's trying to woo your buddy Bram.


"Oh, look at you being all cute," Évariste grumbled.


ahhhh yes i heard from bas that something was going on. tell évariste that he should take bram out for pizza and a movie


"Denis says you should take Bram out for a pizza and a movie," Julien dutifully supplied.


"You've told your boyfriend about my amorous troubles?!"


Évariste says thank you, Julien texted. (At least I'm fairly sure that's the sentiment of the glare he's currently sending my way.) "We talk about things," Julien told Évariste. "Like people in relationships do."


"But a pizza and a movie though?" Évariste looked lost - or baffled, perhaps. "He telling me the way to Bram's heart is through food and...public entertainment?"


"How would I know?" Julien shrugged. "Could be Bram is just a low-fuss guy? He seems like a chill dude, you know?"


"Hm." Évariste didn't look entirely convinced. "I suppose it doesn't hurt to try," he eventually said, and tapped away at his phone, presumably to text Bram.


I think Évariste is going for it. Want to bet on the outcome? Julien texted to Denis, who hadn't replied to his latest text. Bring him to the masked ball. I'll make sure Évariste's dance card has an empty slot. Y/N?


not a terrible idea


Julien glanced at Évariste, who was now wholly focused on his phone. Then: Maybe we should go out for a pizza and a movie.


extra cheese, Denis replied.


And Milanese salami on top.


i can get behind that. bet you a pizza that bram says yes


Deal, Julien texted. What are you up to right now?


am watching evelien trying to teach dad how to make friendship bracelets. Brief pause, then another text came through: she wants to make you one. name a colour that isn't blue


Julien pondered this for a moment. Assuming that she was going to make a two-colour bracelet with blue as one of the colours… Gold. If that's okay.


she says you're predictable and to pick another colour


Oh for… Pink, then. Or maybe white? I'm also fond of purple.


The next text from Denis was a simple thumbs up.




2 Julien & co are invited to Ollenie to spend the winter holidays there, and Julien and Évariste spend the holidays texting their respective beaus and complaining to each other


***



The third dance came to an end, and Julien escorted his dance partner back to her table. He snagged Évariste on his way to one of the many balconies overlooking the garden; the dance was always nice, but Évariste was liable to have stashed stronger alcohol than champagne and sparkling wine somewhere around.


"Already?" Évariste didn't look at all surprised, or sorry. "No, this one," he added, steering Julien towards a different set of doors. He ducked out, then whistled - the signal that Julien was safe to follow.


His attention was elsewhere, however. There was a slight commotion by the doors to the ballroom - it appeared that two guests were being denied entrance.


Despite the mask, Julien would have known him anywhere.


"Év," he said, pitching his voice just so. He couldn't stop staring. Was what he thought was happening really happening?


"What's the matter?" Évariste came back out, then followed Julien's line of sight. "Is that Bram?"


"And Denis," Julien added, unnecessarily.


"Are we going to rescue them?" Évariste studied the display. "I must say, Bram scrubs up fine."


"Suppose we do have to rescue them." Julien pursed his lips. As entertaining as it was to watch Denis try to smooth talk his way past the staff, Bram hovering behind him, his heart was doing some really strange acrobatics in his chest. "Let's go."


Évariste spared a glance towards the balcony, but then abandoned the secret booze stash in favour of finding out what his heart's intended was up to.


"Good evening," Julien said pleasantly as he reached the little spectacle. Not many eyes were on them, but just enough that soon everyone and in particular Évariste's aunt, were going to be embarrassed. "What seems to be the problem?"


Denis' eyes were glittering behind the mask, a glittery golden monstrosity vaguely resembling a goat. Was that mirth? Julien ignored him.


"These gentlemen do not have invites, sir," the taller off the guards replied.


"I see. Évariste, cousin dear?"


Évariste was grinning at Bram, who was doing funny things with his mouth. Trying to suppress a smile, perhaps.


Denis was not hiding his smile at all.


"No invites! How very scandalous!" Évariste exclaimed, feigning shock - and badly at that. "I will just have to invite them in, don't I?"


"Sir?" This was the taller guard again.


"Oh, not to worry." Évariste flapped his hand in the guards' direction. "Julien, cousin dear, I believe this golden faun is in want of a drink, or perhaps a dance."


Julien offered his arm and Denis did not hesitate in taking it. Out of the corner of his eye, Julien saw the two guards quickly confer with one another, then walk briskly off. He turned his attention towards Denis.


"Didn't you have your own masked ball to attend?"


"I may have pulled some strings, by which I mean I bribed my sisters, and probably nobody is going to notice I'm not there. I'll be back in time for the last dance."


"It's a three hour drive!"


"Two hours and about ten minutes, in Bram's Ferrari," Denis corrected. "Will you do me the honour of sharing this dance with me?"


The orchestra was just announcing the fifth dance. Julien hesitated. "Are you sure nobody knows you're here?"


"Nobody knows," Denis replied, leading Julien onto the floor. "I am also wearing a mask."


"I still recognised you." Julien adjusted his own mask; it'd begun slipping. "I don't think anybody else would've had the audacity to crash a royal ball."


"Is it still crashing if one is royal themselves?" Denis brought Julien's hand to his lips. "Dance with me, my sweet prince."


Julien melted. "Follow my lead," he said, gathering Denis close. "This is an Ollenie special."



Two days after the holidays ended and Julien was back at university, he had a date with Denis. Pizza and a movie - although Denis had changed it to the theatre. "It's a traditional play, and it's only on for a week," he'd said, and Julien had relented. It didn't matter much what they were doing, what mattered was the fact he hadn't seen Denis in almost two weeks.


Denis was scrutinising the menu.


"This place only has five different pizzas," Julien pointed out. "How hard can it be to choose?"


"I'm trying to work out the best pizza and wine combination," Denis said. Now he was frowning at the menu.


"That's what they have a sommelier for." Julien put his elbows on the table and leaned forwards. "I was thinking about something, by the way."


"Yeah?" Denis put the menu down.


"I don't want to do that press conference. You know the one. I don't want to go stand in front of cameras holding hands and smile and say whatever Patrice wants me to say." Julien made a face. "I want to...feel normal. You know? Normal people don't hold press conferences to tell people who they're dating. They change their facebook status."


"You don't have a facebook account."


"It's the principle of the thing." Julien huffed. "I don't care how, so long as it's not a bloody press conference."


Denis smiled. "Yeah, I agree with you there."


"Suppose we eloped?" Julien's brow furrowed. He tapped his own menu. "I don't mean literally, I mean...what if we went public ourselves, you know? No press conference. Like… My instagram account is public and I have full control of it - Patrice has no say in what I put on there - you have one too, don't you?" [move to previous chapter]


Julien full well knew that Denis had an instagram account as he was already following it.


"You're already following me on instagram," Denis said, grinning as Julien's cheeks flushed.


"Oh, you know what I mean. It's yours, is it?" Julien leaned back a little, glancing down at his menu.


"Mh, it's mine all right." Denis' eyes were twinkling. "Let's do it." He closed his menu. "Now."


"Now?" Julien looked up, already faltering. "I didn't mean now, I thought maybe later, or…"


"Why not now?" Denis was already fishing his phone out of his pocket. "Smile for the camera, love."


Julien was saved by the waiter, who'd appeared just then to see if they were ready to order. He closed his menu and ordered for both of them; a pizza to share (five different cheeses) and a sweet white wine to wash it down with.


When he turned to Denis again, it was to find Denis tapping at his phone. There was something satisfied about his smile that had Julien reaching for his own phone. Just as he picked it up, a notification came through that he'd been tagged.


Denis had taken a photo of Julien handing his menu to the waiter and captioned it dinner with the boyfriend ❤ julienclément.


It was a nice photo, really; Julien was smiling at the waiter (only just visible at the edge of the photo) and the ambient light made him look slightly more tanned than he really was. His hair was golden and a bit ruffled (he'd used some of that glittery hair modelling wax again), and the knitted sweater he was wearing made him look relaxed. More relaxed than he felt, at any rate.


This wasn't just real now, it was real and public.


Julien tapped the little heart, turning it from grey to red. Already a few other likes had ticked in, but no comments yet. He closed the app, not wanting to know just yet what kind of comments this update would get.


"No location tag?" he asked, trying for a light tone.


"Didn't want to risk it." There were tiny lines in Denis' brow. "Are you all right?"


"Yeah." Julien drew in a breath, then put his phone on the table, face down. "I'm good. Just got a bit nervous all of a sudden."


Denis exhaled, then ran a hand through his hair. Julien had seen him do it so often now that he reckoned it was the reason why Denis' hair - wavy as it was - was always effortlessly semi-quiffed.


"Come here," Julien said, leaning over the table again. If Denis had been wearing a tie, he'd probably have grabbed it to pull him closer; he'd seen people do that in movies, and it always struck him as something he'd like to try one day. But Denis wasn't wearing a tie, he was wearing a soft flannel shirt over a band t-shirt. It was as well that the theatre they were going to was a small indie theatre located in the basement of a nearby pub; The Royal Theatre of Vallée would've never let them step a foot over the threshold in this attire, regardless of who they actually were.


"What?" Denis blinked, then a smile spread on his lips as he took Julien's meaning. "Oh. I see." He leaned across the table, meeting Julien in the middle.


The kiss didn't last long. A flash went off somewhere close by and Julien pulled away with regret. Sam and Denis' bodyguard (Julien hadn't gotten his name) had closed ranks in the photographer's line of sight and were staring him down menacingly, but it was the maître d' who was manhandling the fellow out.


"So much for not tagging the location," Denis said.


"I reckon somebody else tipped him off and he was here already." Julien pulled Denis in to steal a quick kiss, then sat back.


Their waiter showed up with the wine, and shortly after that the pizza. Julien took a photo of Denis wrestling with a long string of cheese coming off a slice and posted it to instagram. (cheese is proving too much to handle for therealdenisoftrier. #verycharming #datenight.)


They got through the rest of their meal without incident, and no photographers or other interested parties were lying in wait for them outside the restaurant.


"That's always something," Denis commented, taking Julien's hand in his. "Are you ready to be wowed?"


"That depends." Julien grinned, his breath turning white in the air. "You've seen it already? You seem very confident about this play, given that it's being put up by amateurs in a basement."


"It's a friend of a friend thing. Bas' sister is in it, she's in theatre studies or something like that."


The pub was only just down the street and through a gated port, the cast iron gate currently open and chained to the wall. Their bodyguards' boots thumped heavily on the cobblestones behind them.


"Oh, so it's only a semi-amateur thing?" Julien asked, following Denis through to the little courtyard. There were lanterns outside the pub. "Looks like a lovely place for a pint."


"Fancy a pint? The play's not on for another half hour, I thought we'd get a drink and hang about. I was thinking of something more fancy than a pint, though." Denis winked. "You liked those pink drinks at Sofie's party."


"I like a good pint now and then!" Julien elbowed him gently. "In the right company and ambience and all that."


"Let me ask: do you also have a wine ambience to adhere to?"


"Of course. I seem to also have recently acquired the needs for a specific a mulled wine ambience, which is all your fault."


Denis paused at the door, frowning at Julien. "Are you telling me that was the first time you had mulled wine? When I took you out?"


"Well...sort of? We have a similar thing in Vallée, but it's made with apple cider instead of wine, and it's non-alcoholic," Julien explained. "Of course you can get spiked versions, but it's not the standard."


"Huh." Denis pushed the door open and ushered Julien in. "I've heard of it, but I've never tried it. Is it a winter fair thing?"


"Angling for another date?" Julien unwound his scarf, casting about for a nice place to sit. Most of the tables were taken. There were a number of empty chairs at the bar, though, and by the window there was a little sofa arrangement that could seat a smaller group, currently vacated. Julien headed towards it.


"If it'll get me another date, I'll take it. Whatever it is." Denis followed, shedding his coat as he went.


Julien kissed Denis' cheek, then took his coat and dumped it, along with his own, over the arm of the sofa. "You can have another date any time you want," he said. "My dad actually makes a really good apple cider. Are you free on Saturday? We could have a sleepover." He sat, monopolising the corner of the sofa that was nearest the window.


"A sleepover? What are we, twelve?" Denis' eyes twinkled. Julien hooked his fingers in the belt straps on his jeans and tugged, Denis plopped down on the sofa next to him. "I won't have to wear a chastity belt, do I? Or frumpy pyjamas?"


"No. My dad will put you in the guest room, of course." Julien flashed him a mischievous grin. "But I know all the secret passageways. There are about four different ways I could sneak into your room, or sneak you into mine."


Denis opened his mouth, no doubt to ask about the number of guest rooms and secret passageways, but the barmaid showed up just then, to take their order.


"A pint of White Fairy, please, if you've got it on tap," Julien said. She nodded in assent and scribbled it down. "Denis?"


"Mmh, I quite fancy something darker. Maybe Birch Brew? Do you have that?"


"I'm afraid we're out, but we have Black Fairy on tap and if you don't mind it on the sweeter side, we have a dark Maple Ale on tap as well."


"Let me try the Maple." Denis waited until the barmaid had left, then turned to Julien. "I would love nothing more than to sneak into your room through illicit secret passageways like some kind of harlot."


Julien snaked his arm around Denis' lower back, until his hand came to rest on his hip. He squeezed it. "Does that mean you're free on Saturday?"


"I am free on Saturday. But I have a game Sunday morning, so need to scram early." Denis leaned in to nuzzle his nose against Julien's ear, then pressed a soft kiss to the edge of his jaw. "Don't you have a game on Saturday?" He put some respectable distance back between them, but Julien didn't remove his hand.


"I do. Do you want to come?"


"Of course."


Their pints showed up, and Julien still didn't remove his hand even if he was starting to lose feeling in his arm, what with it trapped between Denis and the back of the sofa. Very few people were paying them much attention, despite the presence of their somewhat imposing bodyguards, and it was - nice. Being out like this, like normal people. It felt normal. Good.


Julien squeezed Denis' hip again, then took a sip of his pint. If he were fée he would be vibrating contentedly, but he wasn't so he settled for leaning into Denis and closing his eyes for a just a moment.


Something warm and wet hit his face, and then there was shouting and noise right in front of him. Denis had shot to his feet. Julien blinked, trying to get his bearings, and saw that both their bodyguards were hauling a man away; he was shouting obscenities at Julien, red in the face with anger. The bouncer was holding the door for them.


All of a sudden Julien realised what had happened and hot anger bloomed in his gut. This hadn't happened since he was sixteen. He'd thought it was over.


Julien didn't realise Denis had gone until he came back, napkin in hand and concern on his face.


"No," he said, holding up a hand to stop him. "Wait!" he called out to their bodyguards, who were halfway out the door. "I'd like to speak to him."


Sam stopped and said a few words to Denis' bodyguard (he really ought to get his name, Julien thought). The man had stopped shouting, but he was still spitting mad. Julien got to his feet, a little shakily, then went up to them, clenching his fists - if he didn't, he wasn't sure what he'd do - and paused in front of the man.


There was no reasoning with this one, Julien saw. His eyes were hard, his lip curled in disgust. There was never any reasoning with any of them.


Very slowly, Julien let go of the anger and drew calm into himself instead. "I hope," he said, carefully, "that one day you will know what happiness is, like I know it. I hope you will experience true love. I hope it transforms you into a better version of yourself, like it has me. Because this?" He gestured at the man. "This anger? Is worth nothing."


The man's face didn't change, but he made a lunge towards Julien. He didn't succeed; Sam pulled him bodily out the door.


Julien turned his back on them. Denis was right there, still holding the napkin, so Julien took it. He stared at it, so he wouldn't have to see that strange look on Denis' face that was doing funny things to Julien's insides, or the fact that everyone in the pub was looking at him. "Where's the restroom? I'd quite like to wash my face."


"This way," the barmaid said, voice shaking. "Your, uhm, highness."


"Thank you." Julien started off towards the door she'd pointed out, then paused briefly. "Please tell Sam where I went when he comes back," he said. He didn't wait for an answer, just hoped that she'd know who he meant, and went through the door.


The water was blissfully cold on his face.


Sam would've called the police by now, he mused. They'd have arrested the man and taken him into custody, probably word would've reached his father too. In a day or two, once the man had stewed under threat of being tried for treason, Julien would notify the police that the court did not intend to press charges. It would be spun to the press as an act of mercy and kindness or whatever bullshit Patrice would've come up with.


He bent low over the sink, staring at the water sloshing down the drain. What had just happened was starting to filter through to him.


The man hadn't been attacking Julien's queerness. He'd attacked Julien for tainting his prince - for ruining Denis, for enticing him, for… Julien sucked in a deep breath. What point did the difference make? Hate was hate.


"How did you do that?" Denis asked, once Julien had scrubbed his face clean and was drying off with paper towels.


Julien knew Denis had followed him into the restroom, but he hadn't wanted to acknowledge him yet, or anyone else for the matter.


"Do what?" he asked, throwing the used paper towels into the bin.


"You showed him compassion," Denis said, closing the distance between them. He took both Julien's hands in his.


His hands were still shaky. "That was a variation on a rehearsed speech I've given before," Julien said. His voice came out oddly mechanic. "This isn't the first time this has happened." He lifted his head, finally, and looked Denis in the eye. "I'm not...inherently good, or anything like that. It was just a speech."


"Does it matter?" Denis squeezed his hands, not breaking eye contact. There was an odd light in his eyes. "You still chose to show compassion over returning the hatred."


"I -" Julien drew in a shaky breath, then shook his head. "Sorry. I'm a bit - I wasn't prepared for that to happen."


"Don't be sorry. You did nothing wrong. Actually, in my eyes you did everything right." Denis got up on tiptoes and kissed his forehead. "Do you want to leave? I can take you home, if you want."


Julien shook his head. "No. I came here to see a play. I'm seeing that play." He took another deep breath, willing the anger and shock and hurt to dissipate completely, to be replaced with calm and confidence and that fluttery warmth that came whenever he thought of Denis, looked at him, touched him. That warmth he was feeling now, with Denis looking at him like that. "I'm not letting that ruin my evening. I won't allow it."


"Okay." Denis squeezed his hands again. "We'll see the play."


There was a knock on the door, and then the door to the restroom opened. "Uhm," the barmaid said, hovering awkwardly in the doorway. "Apologies for interrupting, uhm, your highnesses." She did an embarrassed little curtsey, face red. "I just spoke to ah, the manager about what, uhm, happened, on the, ahh, phone, and would like to apologise on behalf of -"


"This wasn't your fault," Julien interrupted her. "You don't have to apologise."


"Uhm, your drinks will of course be on the house," the barmaid continued, if possible even redder in the face. "You are always welcome here."


"Thank you for your kindness."


The barmaid curtseyed at both of them, then left, just as awkwardly as she'd come.


"I want to get back to my pint." Julien sighed, glancing at the door.


"It spilled," Denis told him, sounding all too cheerful about it. "Mine too, actually. The table got flipped over and all."


Julien stared at him. "What?" He hadn't noticed that at all. How shocked had he been? He pushed the door open to see - what else had he missed?


The table had been righted, and the floor was moist underneath it, though it wasn't flooded - somebody must've mopped up the drinks. Nothing else seemed out of order, and the barmaid was carrying two fresh pints over to the table.


That wasn’t what had stopped Julien in his tracks, however. The entire pub had gotten to their feet as Julien exited the restroom, and they were now applauding, smiles on every single face. "What…?"


"I imagine they're as proud of you as I am, love," Denis whispered in his ear, then kissed his cheek. His hand found Julien's and squeezed. "You've won over my people."


"Oh." Julien looked away from the small crowd - it wasn't a very large pub and it was a Monday evening, so there were maybe fifteen, twenty heads in total in here - but they were all smiling at him. They were all applauding. Julien's throat tightened.


"All right," Denis said, loudly, raising a hand. The applauding quieted down. Still smiling, he wove through the crowd back to the table with Julien. Only when they'd taken their seats again did the small crowd sit back down. All fifteen of them.


If this was how Trier at large was going to react to their relationship...


Julien blinked back tears and picked up his pint with both hands. He'd been more worried about this whole thing than he'd realised. The people's respect was everything. He took a large drag of his pint, willing the cool drink to calm his nerves.


"Are you alright? The offer still stands," Denis said softly, into Julien's ear. "We can still leave if you want."


"No." Julien looked at him and was nearly bowled over. There was worry in Denis' eyes, but also something fierce and dark and frightened, completely at odds with the soft curve of his mouth or the hand on his thigh. Julien's stomach bottomed out with the realisation that Denis wasn't just in love with him; his feelings went deeper, ran stronger. "It's alright, love," Julien said, his heart thundering in his chest.


***



Somebody tattled to the press while the play was on, or perhaps they already had while they made good work of their second pints, because the little courtyard outside the pub was packed.


"I'm very tempted to leave through the back exit," Julien told Denis as they emerged from the basement. Through the window and the glass paned door, several cameras and journalists were visible.


"We would prefer it if your highnesses left through the back exit," Denis' bodyguard said, in a tone that brokered no argument despite the polite phrasing. "Sam is waiting with the car."


"Don't suppose we could talk to them?" Denis asked. "Not at length," he added, hastily. "Let them have a photo, perhaps a quote?"


"Why?" Julien frowned. "Whatever for?"


"To show them we're not afraid?" Denis shrugged. "To show them that we're okay? To show them that...that…"


"Very convincing." Julien shook his head, but he was smiling. "Okay, yeah. These are your people, so...if you think it's safe," he added, to Denis' bodyguard. "I have no intention of getting lectured by Sam or my father tonight about what's safe… And I especially don't want a lecture from Patrice on good press behaviour."


"I can make it safe," Denis' bodyguard said, amusement flashing briefly across his face. "But in my humble opinion? Just give them a wave through the window and then get out of here."


Denis had already slid his hand into Julien's. "Actually, I have changed my mind. The faster we get to the car, the faster we can get to making out in the backseat like teenagers."


Denis' bodyguard made a noise, but when Julien looked at him, the man was his usual unflappable self. Denis grinned, then turned towards the windows, lifting their linked hands in the air. With his other hand he blew them a kiss.


Julien settled for giving them a wave.


The cameras blinded them for a brief moment, but Denis' bodyguard guided them towards the back of the pub, through the small kitchen and the stock room and out to the alley, where the car waited.




***



DOUBLE ENGAGEMENT FOR VALLÉE? It's official - Prince Julien & Crown Prince Denis are DATING! Crown Prince Denis to accompany Prince Julien to France? Prince Julien stands up to bullies! Read all about our hero, Prince Julien!


"This is ghastly," Julien said, frowning at the headlines. Jeanne had brought the pile of papers to the lunch table, oddly cheerful about the whole thing. On the Trier Herald front page a cellphone photo taken at the pub had been blown up; it was dark and grainy, but it showed clearly the look on Julien's face as he spoke to the man who'd spit on him.


"You look very dashing," Jeanne told him. "Knight in shining armour, and all that. Very fierce." She was grinning.


Julien didn't bother trying to protest. The papers had also reprinted their instagram posts - one of them had even framed the posts within large hearts - and it was hard to tell what had them more excited; the altercation at the pub or the unconventional confirmation of their relationship.


It was probably both.


Patrice, who always kept half an eye on Julien's instagram account, hadn't said anything to him this morning, only gestured helplessly. Julien had only shrugged and asked him to cancel the joint press statement, seeing as the cat was out of the bag and it wouldn't be needed anymore.


He wasn't as sorry as he probably should've been for making Patrice's job harder.


"I wasn't trying to be 'fierce'," Julien said, pushing the papers away. "I was just...reacting."


Jeanne ignored this, ooh-ing instead. "They did a voxpop! Listen: Gotta love a man who stands up for his fella, right? says Doug o'Donnell, travelling from Ireland. Oh, I don't know what to think about the crown prince being with a man, though I suppose he is a modern sort of prince. But he could've done worse than another prince! says Anaïs, florist. I think it's wonderful what he did, Prince Julien! I'm already looking forwards to the wedding! I -"


"Please stop," Julien said, rubbing his face. The wedding? Ten bloody fairies on a cake, there wasn't going to be a wedding, not now or ever, if Julien could help it. Not if this was how the press were going to react. "We're not getting married," he muttered.


Jeanne had gone unnaturally quiet. So quiet, in fact, that the only sounds in the tower cafe were muted noises from the kitchen and the waitress' bustling about behind the counter. "Are you...not going to propose to him, then?"


All the blood left Julien's face in a rush, bringing on a sudden onset of nausea. He looked up, swallowing, then opened his mouth - and closed it again. "I," he tried again, "of course I am. That's the idea of taking him to the cabin." Were his palms sweaty? They felt sweaty.


"Hm." Jeanne shook her head at him. "Getting cold feet?"


Julien took too long to answer, if the way Jeanne's eyes were widening was anything to go by. And then it was too late. "We're...moving too fast," he eventually said, reluctantly. Where was Évariste when you needed him? Julien was in dire need of wine. And a friend who wasn't looking at him like he'd just lost his puppy.


"I don't know what to say, Julien - oh." Jeanne's eyes flickered to the stairwell.


Before Julien could ask her what was up, whoever had entered the tower cafe had slid into the chair next to him and was leaning into his space, arm across the back of the chair -


"Denis?!" Julien sputtered. "I thought - didn't you have - what -"


"I did," Denis confirmed, grinning. He gave Jeanne the briefest of nods in greeting, then turned his smile and freckles and too twinkly eyes back on Julien. "But I thought I'd carve out a few minutes of my day for a kiss."


And just like that, all that blood returned to Julien's head and he flushed. "Just a kiss?"


"I thought two might be pushing it." Denis's grin was, if possible, even wider.


This close, Denis scent was overwhelming - heady, strong, as if he'd been running all day. It was quite possible he had been, what with the crazy schedule he had on Wednesdays this semester. "A kiss, then," Julien said.


Denis' smile was infectious, and with the full power of it bearing down on him, Julien couldn't help but let it wash over him and tug on that warm little feeling in his belly until it blossomed into something large and hot and dangerous, and then smile in return.


It'd only been yesterday that they'd been making out in the backseat of their escort like teenagers, and only yesterday that he'd dropped Denis off at his palace with a searing hot kiss, and only yesterday that he'd spent the entire ride home in silence, trying to comprehend what was happening to him, thinking I'm not ready for this, I'll never be ready for this, and it was only a few minutes ago he'd said aloud the words we're moving too fast, but now - breathing in Denis and kissing him like his life depended on it - it seemed like he'd forgotten all about any of it.


"I have to go," Denis said, finally. "I'll see you on Saturday." Another kiss, this one brief and sweet, and then Denis was gone.


"Well," Jeanne said, standing. "You two being all cute like that has instilled a dire need in me to find my girlfriend and smooch the devil out of her. See you later, Julien."


Julien nodded, not trusting himself to speak, and Jeanne left.


Three things had become terrifyingly clear to him: 1) Denis was more in love with him than Julien was in love with Denis. 2) Julien's feelings were running amok, hurtling themselves towards an abyss labelled "FIERCE AND UNDYING LOVE FOR DENIS", which was not at all terrifying, and 3) He couldn't possibly go through with the fake proposal.


At this juncture, Denis was liable to believe the fake dating scheme was null and void, so if Julien proposed to him at the cabin...would he accept? Would he believe it was real - would it break his heart when Julien called off the engagement afterwards? Would he lose him over it? Or would Denis actually follow their plans and decline?


Julien didn't know what would be worse. They'd not discussed their fake dating scheme since...well, since they'd crossed the border into Actual Dating Land. They probably should.


Or maybe not. Maybe he'd just bring Denis to the cabin and not propose to him, thus turning over centuries old traditions and possibly bringing on the ire of royalists and...and…


Nobody outside his family and small circle of friends knew he was bringing Denis to the cabin. He'd just make sure the press wouldn't find out, and then - it would be fine. Everything would be fine. There'd be no proposal, just skiing and Denis and good food and his family and stealthily sneaking into each other's rooms at night.


Yeah. It'd be fine.


***



Live tv incident



Julien goes off on live television:


It's all very romantic and heterosexual when andré sacrifices his life for love, isn't it? But when I follow my gay little heart it's a scandal and I'm shirking my duties - duties I wouldn't have had in the first place had andré not decided to marry someone 'unsuitable" - actually why stop there? Chloe is only unsuitable because the constitution says so! She would make an amazing queen. She's kind, humble and hardworking, and most important of all, she loves my brother and makes him happy. But here we are, and I'm expected to tell you why I'm upsetting the kingdom?


Journalist: something


Julien: might I remind you that I am not just ambassador for the melusine-human alliance, I am part melusine. I have melusine heritage. What kind of signal does it send to our people - my people - that some of them are considered second class citizens? So less than that a king isn't allowed to sully himself or the bloodline by marrying them? Perhaps I'm going to marry Denis because in Trier they don't have that kind of - pardon my choice in words - dehumanising laws. Or maybe it's because I fucking love him and I'd like the freedom to marry who ever I fucking want to despite whatever ramifications it might have on my "duties". If the requirement for the job is to adhere to speciest laws, then I QUIT.



***


It was not fine.


Dinner and sleepover scene here


André tells them chloé's pregnant and julien's world comes crashing down?? Having kids out of wedlock is no longer frowned upon, but they talk about moving the wedding up anyway, so their child would be legally recognised as andré's without additional paperwork and thuslike? (andré's kid would be first in line after julien, unless julien and denis adopt later in life or whatever they do)



1 Julien doesn't announce that he's bringing Denis so much as it accidentally slips out as he's leaving the theatre one evening "yes i'm bringing him, good night" - when???



***




***



Blah



3 julien has a minor breakdown as the press start speculating about engagement: 1) he hasn't told Denis about this tradition 2) he is not going to spring a proposal on somebody wholly unprepared for it, especially when a yes has such severe consequences as it does in denis' case (if he says yes at all, julien also freaks out about this) because 3) he has only known him for three months! But also, he promised he'd take Denis to the cabin and he doesn't want to go back on that promise, even if their bargain is essentially null and void seeing as their relationship is no longer fake - he talks to André. Maybe reveals to andré that they were fake dating but that it became real (andré probably suspected?)



When is your next free period? Julien texted Denis. I kinda want to talk about something. If you have the time.


today


Julien frowned at his phone. Could you be more specific?


fourth period. had library but can cancel. what is it?


Fourth period is perfect. Come to the studio? I'll be there. Do you know where it is?


roof ;) i'll find you


Satisfied and relieved, Julien put his phone away and headed into his lecture. It probably wasn't proper of him to rope Denis into this talk, but he was the only one he knew - aside from André, and André was for the time being still persona non grata in Julien's life - who could give him some insight on the matter. And perhaps some advice.


By the end of third period Julien was glancing at the clock on the wall every other minute, just waiting for Denis to show up. He was the only one in the studio today, but even if some of the others had been around, the studio was spacious enough that he'd have had privacy.


So distracted was he by the slow-moving time and the fast-drying paint he was working with that when Denis finally made his appearance, Julien almost didn't notice.


"Oh! Hi," he said, only slightly flustered. "Uh, take a seat - there's some paint free tabourets around here somewhere, I'm sure…"


Denis looked around. "Oh, don't worry about that," he said. "This is where you work?"


"Yeah." Julien glanced at his canvas, then at his palette. Might as well put it aside for now, he couldn't possibly concentrate on both the painting and on talking to Denis, but on the other hand...having a brush in hand and something else to look at might just make the whole thing easier to get through.


"What're you painting?" Denis had moved up behind Julien and was now peering over his shoulder.


"I'm practicing a specific technique. It's done with this fast-drying paint, so it requires you to work fast - see how those strokes go, there?" Julien gestured with his brush. "It gives the painting an interesting texture."


"Mmh." Denis went and sat on a stool by the opposite window, directly in the line of Julien's sight if he were to look up from the canvas. "What did you want to talk about? You never said."


Julien bit his lip, staring at the canvas. He hadn't quite gotten all the strokes right, and there was a particularly ugly patch just to the left of the centre where he'd had trouble with a curtain. "You've heard that I'll be Crown Prince?" he eventually asked.


"Rumours."


"They aren't rumours. As soon as André and Chloé are officially engaged the process will start, and when they marry...I'll be Crown Prince instead of André." Julien shook his head, then laughed. "I suppose that means he'll inherit the summer palace and not I. They'll have to live somewhere, don't they?" He stabbed the brush into a jar of murky water.


Denis watched him. Julien kept stabbing the brush at the bottom of the jar, forcing the dry paint out and murking up the water further.


"How do you do it?" Julien asked, abandoning the brush to its fate. He picked out a clean brush in its stead, but he didn't pick up paint with it (the paint on his palette was already drying out), only rubbed his thumb over the soft bristles. "How do you go about your daily life knowing that one day you'll have to be King and take on all the responsibilities that come with it, be head of state, somebody that your people will look up to and the face of your country to the rest of the world…"


"I've never known any different," Denis told him.


"I always wanted to just paint," Julien said, putting down the palette. He fetched another tabouret and went to sit with Denis. "I always wanted to just…"


"You can still do those things." Denis reached over to put a hand on Julien's knee, then squeezed. "Even kings and queens have hobbies."


"Yeah? What do you do when you're not being Crown Prince Denis?" Julien ran the soft bristles of his paint brush over Denis' knuckles.


"I'm not a very creative sort. I like to read. I should show you my personal library sometime." Denis didn't remove his hand. "I also like to play football. I don't intend to give that up. When I'm seventy and King, I'll still be playing football. Of course, by then it'll probably be in the senior league and I'll be hobbling about the field with a cane, but I'll still be playing."


Julien was quiet for a while. The entire studio was quiet, the soft brush silent against Denis' skin leaving the soft cadence of their breaths as the only sound. "I'll still be painting," he eventually said. "Maybe I'll come watch one of your games sometime. I imagine it must be an interesting sight, playing football with a cane."


"Was that a joke?" Denis squeezed Julien's knee.


"I suppose." Julien looked up, smiling faintly. "I just feel...unprepared. I didn't grow up knowing I'd be King, you know? I grew up knowing I'd have greater personal freedom to live my life the way I wanted, than André does." He snorted. "And then André of course had to mess that all up by falling in love with somebody who's only forty-eight per cent human. Now he's going to be the one who gets do whatever, and I...I have to take on his responsibilities. It's not fair."


"No." Denis paused. "I don't imagine André thinks it's fair either. None of us chose to be born into royalty. I don't blame him for wanting to make a different choice, to become someone else."


Julien sighed. "I don't either," he said. "I don't begrudge him his happiness. Chloé is wonderful, really, I like her a lot. They're good for each other, and...I want him to be happy."


"But?"


"I wish it didn't all come at my expense." Julien leaned forwards, resting his elbows on his knees and his face in his hands. Denis took his hand back. "I feel selfish and ungrateful for even thinking it. But I want to make my own choices too, you know?"


"Yeah. I know. It's how I feel," Denis told him. "I also want to make my own choices in life. And here's the thing: I can. There is nothing that prevents me from living my life the way I want to, understand? Being King doesn't change that."


"But -"


"It's a job. It's not who you are. It's a job you're born into, but it's not your defining characteristic," Denis explained. "It's a scary job that comes with scary responsibilities and some seriously screwed up working hours, but at the end of the day you still get to go home and kiss your spouse and have dinner and read your favourite book, just like everyone else."


Julien looked up. "I've never thought of it that way."


"Does it help?"


"A little," Julien admitted. "Am I taking it too seriously?"


Denis regarded him, then smiled. It was a soft, fond smile, one that Julien was becoming intimately familiar with. "No. I don't think this is a job that you can take too seriously. My dad told me it's very much like parenting. The people look up to him as a sort of father figure. If you think of it that way, then you are currently the little brother who everyone likes to dote on. When you become Crown Prince, you'll be the metaphorical big brother, who everyone trusts to grow up to one day become a father. The people will be proud when it happens. They already love you. They watched you grow up. They'll love the King you'll become, too. And if you show them that you take that responsibility seriously, you will have their trust, love and respect for the rest of your life."


"May the spirits help me," Julien whispered, feeling lightheaded. "That did not help."


"It's a lot of pressure," Denis admitted. "But only if that's what you focus on. Look, you're not being thrown into the deep end of the pool blindfolded and bound on hands and feet. You know how this stuff works, even if you haven't personally taken on any of the Crown Prince's duties yourself. They're not that different from a Prince's duties. You have work experience, to put it bluntly. There's no one more qualified to become a Crown Prince than a Prince."


Julien exhaled.


"Hey." Denis' voice was soft again. "Your father and brother will see you through this, won't they?"


"Yeah."


"Then you'll be fine."


"Could I -" Julien swallowed. "Could I call you if...if I want to talk about it?"


"Any time." Denis took Julien's hand and squeezed it. "That's a promise. Ten years from now and you need to chat? You can call me."


"Thank you."


"You okay?"


"Yeah." Julien drew in a deep breath. "Thank you."



1 Denis breaks his leg on the ski trip and Julien gets to avoid the whole do i propose or do i not propose thing, but he does go with him to the hospital.



2 after denis wakes up from surgery on his leg. (it gets a little awkward because with two bodyguards crammed into there as well…) and they have a little heart to heart? Julien admits he'd like to keep Denis around, but that he's not quite ready to take the relationship to the next level yet, and Denis says he'd also like to keep Julien around and they have all the time in the world, and they can sort out royal duties later, k, right now he'd like some more pain medication and for Julien to crawl in there with him and cuddle, please and also he'd have said yes, which scandalises julien, but denis is ofc not stupid and has done his own research and all, and he is 1579274% ready to give up the throne if it means he can keep julien


Denis: i would've said yes


Julien: scandalised


Julien: when i came to your mum's birthday, you said you'd told them you were in love with me. When did you tell them?


Denis: after our first date.


Julien: ...you were in love with me after one date???


Denis: you're an easy person to love, julien.



***



3 chloé and andré (and valérian) show up at the hospital (julien was probably napping with denis, or something), julien is all horrified their holiday is ruined but they reveal that they decided to skip the official proposal "it's probably bad luck to propose to someone when there's been an accident, it's an ill omen" whatever, and it's implied that next year they'll all go again, also denis gets a message that his mother is on her way to the hospital or something