The Londres Affair (Meillur Only)

[Russlande]

Under the same sky under which the future the marriage of the Princess and Prince of Éirea was falling apart and a trio of friends cane together to lay in the grass and plotted against monarchs, a third party was setting in motion their own plot.

Grand Duke Nukai sat behind the steering wheel of his Muscat Galatea driving south from the Russen Embassy. The beautiful and impressive imperial building loomed in the review mirror of the Gênoise sports car. The Russen Embassy had been designed by Nukai’s grandfather, the King-Emperor of the Celestial with the help of Russen architect Stas Melenkhov during the reconstruction of the city after the Merveilleux War. A massive building with bleached white stone and golden window frames gleamed against the doom and gloom of the rest of the city. The black, white and yellow imperial banner of the Russen Empire fluttered in the evening breeze. The Russen Embassy in Londres was a symbol of Anglo-Russen friendship, had had survived even the two of them going to war against one another in the 2050’s. I

Nukai watched as the view of the Russen Embassy disappeared behind the large maple trees that dotted the lawn that grew around the curve of the street away from the consulate compound. It was a palace in miniature and Ambassador Lyuda Ryndina had been delighted to hosted a party for the Princess and Prince of Éirea. Ambassador Ryndina, Nukai suspected even from his short visit to Great Hyruke’s expérience with the ambassador that it was her primary joy as a representative of the Russen Empire. Nukai thought that he might want to be an ambassador one day. Chatting with the Princess and Prince of Éirea had been delightful, but Nukai was not simply in Londres to attend a party or even to simply take a tour though the capital city as was marked on his official itinerary.

Nukai had observed the Princess and Prince of Éirea carefully. It had been easy to spot the cracks that had opened between them. Of course it had been easy for him because Princess Cece was as beautiful as he’d been told of where to look for the cracks. Russens and Hyrukians may be friends, but that didn’t mean that they didn’t spy on one another. And thanks to Cercle’s involvement with the security of Great Hyruke, many doors had been opened to the Russens. Their cybersoldiers were the best in the world, and with Queen Caroline’s own paranoia driving their ability to spy on them. The discovery of the cracks in the relationship between the future Queen and her husband had not particularly interested the Tsarina, Nukai’s grandmother, but then again it was not her who’d sent Nukai.

Nukai drove towards Sandersfield House, cruising along the carefully made avenues and boulevards. He glanced at himself in the mirror. The Grand Duke was young, not yet even twenty-one, though his grandmother has still given him his sports-car as a gift. Constellations of freckles from years under the sun were splashed across his cinnamon colored skin, his curly brown hair, sunbleached with blond highlights cut close to his head. He’d changed out of the Russen Naval uniform that he’d worn at Ambassador Ryndina’s party. Instead now he wore a casual outfit. A simple white cable knit swear and navy blue chinos covered his tall frame. He pressed his loafers against the gas gently as he drew closer to his destination.

A cold chill ran over Nukai’s skin. He pretended that it was just over the reverse manner on which the Hyrukian drove, but deep down he knew that wasn’t the case. He didn’t, deep down like what he was doing. But Nukai was to be the tool of others. He couldn’t exactly say that he didn’t want to complete his mission because he did not like it. Nukai was not one to fight against authority, and he was never one to break from a mission. The Grand Duke tighten his grip on the steering wheel, taking a deep breath, mimicking the long breaths that he’d been taught on the island of Vanikoro. Ninety seconds later he’d steeled his resolve. He looked out on the road and kept driving, ready to be the first piece to move on the international chessboard.

[Dutch-Empire]

Tears burned against Arthur’s cheeks as he walked down the street that lead out from Sandersfield Estate. This was ridiculous, his thoughts hissed at him. This was fucking ridiculous. What the actual fuck was he doing? Arthur let out a sharp short scream and punched a tree that belonged to the Undersecretary of Transportation. Or maybe it belonged to that movie actress everyone loved. Or maybe this was still technically part of Sandersfield. Arthur wasn’t entire sure where his property ended. No. Not his property. His wife’s property. Everything here was his wife’s. His lying, cheating wife. This was fucking ridiculous. Everything here belonged to her, he had nothing. He was a prince, the son of an empress, and yet he was made entirely dependent on Cece, and now all of that was ruined, even more so than before. He and Cece had been on the rocks, but now... Arthur didn’t know what he was going to do.

He wanted to do several dozen things. He wanted to find which asshole it was that Cece was having an affair with and snap his neck with his bare hands. He could do. He would do if he got the chance. Despite Cece saying it wasn’t Alicante, Arthur still suspected that it was. Arthur wanted to go out and find Cece and bring her back home. To try and get to the bottom of things like rational adults. Maybe he could win her back. Arthur wanted to say screw Cece and her whole damn country, pack up his things and go home. He didn’t love her, so why should he care what she does. And he’d have an an excuse to go home, his real home. Arthur wanted to go out an have an affair of his own. If Cece was running around being a harlot, he certainly wasn’t going to be the idiot cuckhold quietly waiting of her to come back and hope for a sliver of affection from her. She’d been the one to break the bounds of trust they’d establish. Arthur would no longer be expected to adhere to those same bounds. He wanted to go back to Sandersfield House and smash everything in the accursed place, screw his carefully crafted system. He wanted to smashed it to bits.

Instead of doing any one of those things, he was attempting some sort of weird combination. He’d ran after Cece, forgetting that he couldn’t get back into the Estate with his or Cece’s key. When Cece’s town car was clearly and truest gone, Arthur, left alone in the dark had broken down on he side of the street into sobs. Now he walked somewhat mindlessly down the sidewalk in the empty night. Arthur wiped a tear from his cheek. This was fucking ridiculous too. He was a prince. A war hero. He’d cut down hundreds of Aogaian soldiers in the jungle, he’d won battles, he’d brought armies and countries to their knees and he was here sobbing over being cheated on? It was embarrassing. It was degrading. Why had his life come to be so low? This realization of how far he’d fallen only brought on more tears, more mourning for the life of adventure and action that he could have had. He could have been the new face of he Dutch Empire. Instead he’d been regulated to a foreign consort, and even then he was made into a fool.

Arthur again wipes away the tears, holding himself in the dark. He needed to stop being ridiculous. He needed to pull himself up by the bootstraps and plan. He would not be taken down by Cece and her affair. No. He refused to be that man. He had been devoted and loyal if not loving, and he’d kept up his end of the deal. He would force Cece and her aunt to keep up their end. No matter what. He curled his fingers into fists and took a breath, it was short and haggard from crying, but it was something that he had done. He was a soldier. He was a symbol of Dutch victory. He was the goddamn Prince of Éirea. If Cece didn’t love him, fine. If she wanted to be a royal whore, fine. But she would suffer for it. He would make her suffer for it all. He would turn her own people against her. As much as she disliked him, Arthur had looked at the numbers. He was the dutiful, handsome husband and future Prince consort that the Hyrukians wanted. He was smarter than Cece, he was seen more than Caroline. He didn’t need to be the face of the Dutch. He could rule Great Hyruke. He was going to break Cece and scoop up the crown from her head for this.

[Russlande]

Nukai was turning down the street towards Sandersfield House, and as the headlights of his Muscat swung around the bend, they illuminated in a wash of electric blue something. No, not something, someone. Someone was walking down the side of the street in the dark. Nukai felt his jaw drop. His loafer eased off of the gas, slowing the Muscat. He cruised along the road, coasting. The person was, wait, no. Was he punching a tree? Nukai brought the car to a stop. Nukai let a blasphemous exclamation as he realized that the man was Prince Arthur. He let out another such exclamation when he saw the shine of tears rolling down the Prince of Éirea’s face. Nukai shifted the Muscat into park and opened the door.

The Grand Duke hadn’t expected to see the Prince of Éirea sobbing and stumbling through the night on the road up to Sandersfield House. He had expected him and Cece to have been at home. Intel had noted that Arthur and Cece rarely kept up with one another at home, so Nukai had been expecting to find them already settled down and notably, inside. Nukai felt a cold shiver of dread. They weren’t were they were supposed to be. That was a problem for the Grand Duke. Of course the one time that Nukai needed for them to be perfectly in place, they weren’t where they were meant to. Had he been to late? If Arthur was out here, where was Cece?

“Arthur?”

Nukai poured a sense of shock into his voice, which wasn’t particularly difficult since he was very much shocked. He wanted to come off as a concerned friend. He’d been taught from a very young age how to charm people. Has a young man on various different ships, despite his royal blood he’d been instructed on how to be agreeable and seem like just another friendly young man. It tended to disarm people. It helped that he’d already spent the evening wining and dining with the Prince all night already. He’d carefully watched Arthur’s mannerisms, which were crafted around a rough frame, at least by the Grand Duke’s calculations. Nukai had pretended not to know the continuous glances, glares that Arthur had shot his way. He cocked his head to the side as if he were confused, which again wasn’t entirely difficult.

“Arthur? Arthur is that you? What are you doing? Is everything okay?”

[Dutch-Empire]

Arthur jerked his head around, caught off guard by the sudden calling of his name. He squinted and shifted, stepping out of the lights of the sportscar. Arthur’s stomach fell. It was the Russen Grand Duke, Nukai. That was certainly not the person that Arthur wanted to catch witness his emotional breakdown. The Grand Duke was free and able to do as he wished, untethered to the responsibilities of a loveless marriage or the pressures of a domineering empress for a mother. A military man, one for whom the world was his oyster. Nukai is what Arthur had been, could have been. Okay. So perhaps Arthur was projecting a little onto the Grand Duke. Arthur quickly wiped at his face, an attempt to remove the last bits of evidence, swearing the hot salty tears. He straighten his back and looked at Grand Duke Nukai.

“Your Grace.”

Arthur’s usually steady and strong voice cracked. His throat felt like it was closing around his words. His heart felt like it was climbing up his chest, swinging from his rib cage. The Russen Grand Duke looked so good and put together compared to Arthur’s unfolding state. Arthur suddenly felt very old. He felt much older than he should have. As if in just two years he’d been aged twenty. Dramatic perhaps, and false certainly. But that made it feel no less true to Arthur. He wanted to jump back the year that separated him and Nukai in age to when he’d been so much more like the latter and his present-day self seemed so foreign. Arthur rand his fingers over his evening suit, as if by smoothing the lining of his waistcoat or a vain attempt to flatten the wrinkles in his shirt with the top three button undone would distracted from his disheveled state. He wasn’t sure exactly where his tie was. He’d thrown it one of the footmen when he’d screamed at them to leave him alone before his march out of the gate of the estate. He did know his blazer was tossed across the roundabout driveway into the fountain. His Oxfords were scuffed from kicking a bush.

“I am alright.”

Again Arthur’s voice cracked like a teen boy nervously telling a lie. Which was partly the case. He ran an anxious hand through his hair.

“I was just taking a, an evening stroll.”

The Prince of Éirea waved his hand around him as if it were entirely normal for the residents of the neighborhood to transverse the empty streets in the dark of the night and he was merely partaking in the local customs. It suddenly occurred to him that they were both a long away from the Russen Embassy. For Arthur that meant nothing. But for Nukai that raised some questions of Arthur’s own. He narrowed his eyes at the younger man, marched up to him and his car.

“Wait, what exactly are you doing here?”

[Russlande]

Nukai pretended to be taken back by the question. He’d expected some sort of inquiry into why exactly he was here. Luckily he came prepared. Temporary pseudoshock was quickly replaced with sheepishness by the Grand Duke as he mimicked Arthur’s actions, running his hand over his head. He even threw in a slight shifting on his feet as if here embarrassed.

“Well, I was kind of loss.”

Nukai shot Arthur a, hopefully, winning smile to mask his true intentions. He lowered his hands and crossed his arms on the top arch of the car’s open door and rested his chin atop them.

“I as actually trying to find your house. I think that you left something at the embassy and I wanted to drop it off for you.”

Nukai transformed his smile into a conspiratorial smirk.

“Though I kind of just wanted that as an excuse to ride around. Are you sure you are okay?”

The Grand Duke could clearly see that despite what Prince Arthur might actually say he was not alright. Tears were sweared in a thin coat across his cheeks and his voice kept wavering as if he were on the edge of a cliff. Hmm. He could work around this inconvenience. Mission was still ago. Nukai leaned forward slightly, as if he were confused by the Prince’s disheveled look. He looked like he’d fought a small forest sometime between leaving the embassy with his beautiful wife on his arm and being found sobbing on the side of the street. Nukai let the smirk fall away and again be swallowed up by a mask of deep concern.

“I’m really sorry, I don’t mean to intrude, but you really don’t seem fine. If you don’t mind me asking, is there anything I can do? Do you need someone to talk to? I’m a very good listener.”

[Dutch-Empire]

The thought of elaborating on his feelings wasn’t something that Arthur would have even entertained on any other day. He was not a feelings kind of person. He was s man of action. Not mindless chitchat. He preferred his conversations to be down and to the point. But. But, but, but. That was under ordinary circumstances. This was not ordinary circumstances. Maybe it was Arthur projecting his feelings of loss chances and buried dreams onto Nukai. Perhaps it was that he had to tell someone who could just listen, someone who wouldn’t order him about or dance around the conversation. Arthur suddenly felt the tears swelling like the rising waves of a storm surge, pressing harder and harder for release. The dam broke. More tears came. His weaken facade cracked and shattered.

Arthur put his head in his hands, for a moment unable to do anything else but let the sob out. It was not his proudest moment. He’d had no control over his emotions at this point. They were blazing and drowning. Racing and growing. It was all too much and Arthur at twenty-two did not have the emotional capacity or maturity that he’d thought he’d had to deal with this. He’d never wanted this, any of this and just as he had gotten settled into it, it was burning around him like a wildfire. As it raged around him, he couldn’t keep running. He couldn’t keep pretending everything was fine. And here was just the tightest creek of water that he could hid in from all the strain of it all. After a moment of that, Arthur was finally able to actually open his mouth. His words came out like volcanic ash, hot and furious, as if they may set the air between him and Nukai alight.

“It’s my wife. She- that, that bitch.”

It was a horrible thing to say, but it was true. Arthur was the victim here. Cece was The bad guy here and he wouldn’t keep trying to hold back his anger towards her. He repeated himself.

“That bitch, I just found out that she’s been cheating on me. On me.”

Arthur hissed, infuriated at the thought.

“She’s been going around behind my back and fucking some other guy, or guys, fuck, I don’t know. And now she’s finally come clean, only to fuck off somewhere. And now. Well now.”

Arthur broke off into a nervous laugh, or maybe an angry laugh, either way it was one that he couldn’t control.

“And now I can’t even get inside my fucking house.”

[Russlande]

More crying had not been what Nukai had expected from Arthur and it was slightly jarring. Nukai, raised on naval ships and by Russen captains and tutors was a stranger to anyone’s tears but his own, and even then they were but associates from long ago. Russens didn’t cry. They broke whatever made them upset and kept moving. The Russen Empire wasn’t exactly know for their connection with their sensitive side. But Nukai was admittedly only half Russen-well technically he was only a quarter Russen, but details. He could sympathize with Arthur’s crying fit. The non-Russen frigid parts of his emotional sensors in his brain called out to Arthur, wanting more than anything to stop the sobs that came one after another. If only to stop the wretched noise. But, luckily, the Prince of Éirea seemed to power through it. He had done so with a truly liberal use of the word ‘fuck’ and it’s variants, but Nukai knew that he would have made sailors proud. Russen sailors didn’t blush. Nukai doubted they had the capability.

Nukai however did listen to Arthur’s curse laden tale of what had happened to him and Cece in the time that they’d left the embassy now carefully. He had not been lying when he’d said that he was a good listener. He was a great listener. It was a trait he’d picked up traveling with his tutors and the captains of the various ships he lived on around the world. Unlike most of his countrymen, his tutor had liked to babble on, of course it was generally about his studies, but still. Nukai’s was great at taking note of the long winded speeches of others. Arthur’s wasn’t even long winded, but wracked with emotion and pain and anger. It certainly kept Nukai’s attention. And picked at his guilt. This was clearly a man pushed beyond his limits too fast and too such. He was little more than a child. Nukai reached forward and pulled Arthur’s hand away from his face.

“Hey, hey man, it’s alright.”

That would have been a lie even if Nukai was trying to be entirely genuine. This wasn’t exactly a broken window that could be replaced. The lives of several people hung in the balance. But Nukai wasn’t even going to try and solve that kind of level of a problem. Instead he focused in the problems that he could solve, and the steps that would be the closest to getting his goals.

“Listen. I know it is not much, but I think I can help with that last bit.”

Nukai pulled from his pocket a small bracelet. Arthur’s Cercle key. He held it up for Arthur to see, though carefully kept it out of his reach.

“One of the maids found this when they were clearing up the dining room. I remembered seeing that C-, uh, the Princess had one so I assumed it must be part of some set that must fallen out of your pocket. That’s why I was up here.”

A lie, laced with half-truths. It had fallen out of Arthur’s pocket, albeit with the help of Nukai’s fingers when the prince had been distracted speaking with Ambassador Ryndina.

[Dutch-Empire]

Arthur jumped as he felt Nukai taking hold of his hand. He wasn’t one for being touched. Especially not by strangers. He lowered his other hand and looked at Nukai. He’d never considered that the Grand Duke might try to comfort him, not that his little generic lie that everything was alright or would be alright was much of a comfort, but it was certainly a pleasant surprise coming from a Russen. Weren’t they supposed to be the ones who greeted one another with a punch to the face? Well, either way it was a relief that the Grand Duke showed some sympathy. Arthur also felt a bit embarrassed, well he already felt embarrassed, it was simply added to, when the Grand Duke pulled out his Cercle key to Sandersfield House. So he hadn’t left it at home, though that did mean that he’d been reckless enough to let it fall out of his pocket. It was only thanks to luck and Nukai’s own sense of returning it, as well as wanting to take a ride through the city in his shiny car did Arthur stand to get it back.

“Thank you so much you are a life saver-“

Arthur’s gratitude towards Grand Dule Nukai was short lived however. When he reached for the key though he found that it was just out his grasp. He glared at the Grand Duke. He observed him. He and Nukai were both tall, and built well, about evenly so he figured as he glanced up and down at him. He considered if he could take the Grand Duke down in a fight. Dutch boxing was refined and gentlemanly, though he supposed that the Russens were simply so much more violent that their boxing would find superior against his own. Arthur, his eyes narrowed and his jaw set, shot daggers at Nukai.

“What are you doing?”

[Russlande]

Nukai laughed. If looks could kill, he was positive that Arthur would be a serial killer. Brushing aside the death stare, he dangled the Cercle key bracelet and quick as a viper slipped it into his back pocket. He leaned again on the arch of the open Muscat door so that he lowered himself, making him look up at Arthur and forcing Arthur to look down at him. Nukai let his laughter fade and simply be replaced with a sly smile, as if he were hiding something, which admittedly he was. Nukai gave a nod to the Muscat.

“Come on. Let me give you a ride home.”

He said softly, his voice calm hoping that it would calm Arthur as well. The Prince of Éirea was a walking ticking time bomb and he wasn’t sure if tears or punches would come out of him next. He didn’t want either one. More sobs by draw attention and they’d already been standing outside here in the street for two long and punches would lead to an altercation. An altercation that Nukai was confident he would win, but that would hinder his mission. So he took the route of least resistance. He decided to make himself smaller, or at least seem to. Nukai let a laugh dance through his words, lowering his voice.

“Do you wanna ride?”

[Dutch-Empire]

Arthur took a half step back from Nukai, an eyebrow raised. He felt as if a thousand glass needles were stabbing across his skin. Alarm bells rang through his skull. Despite this however he couldn’t see a threat about the Grand Duke himself. Yes something primitive in him was on edge but he didn’t see an actual threat on the face of Nukai. There was a conspiratorial smirk, but it wasn’t scary, it wasn’t dangerous. It was playful. It was mysterious. Perhaps even the slightest bit inviting. Arthur didn’t particularly like it. But he didn’t particularly dislike it.

“What?”

Arthur’s voice didn’t crack this time. It was low and confused. It reflected his thoughts, already swimming in a sea of emotions. He should have just gone inside. But here he was. He closed his fingers as if he were gripping the Cercle key. He tilted his head as he regarded Nukai. This was ridiculous. He supposed that this being ridiculous was just another pebble to be added to the pile of things that had been tossed onto him.

[Russlande]

“I said...”

Nukai clicked his tongue at Arthur, letting his fingers dance like ballerinas across the stage of his arm. He found Arthur’s shift in tone promising, even if his words weren’t matching up with said tone. Nukai maintained his smirk, shooting it like a spotlight up at the Prince of Éirea. He took up the mask of a young man who really wanted to show off to a buddy. Yes, Nukai imagined, as if he could push aside his own ulterior motives and cast himself in the role of a character of his own creation. He was director and actor. And he had to set the scene to get the shot that he needed. Only he had to work around Arthur, a character and actor he had no artistic or directorial control over. A challenge, but Nukai was never one to surrender to a challenge. He would over come this one as he’d overcome those that had come before this.,

“Do you wanna ride?”

Nukai let a hint of honey pour into his question. Laying the hints of the trap. Creating the lure in the form of whatever it was that Arthur desired. That however had to be the trick. What was it that Arthur desired? What would distract him? The Cercle key perhaps, but a temporal and material object of want, one that Nukai suspected didn’t catch Arthur’s attention in anything other than the purely functional purpose it served. No. The Cercle key wouldn’t be what held Arthur long enough to fall into Nukai’s trap. There was something else. He searched for it quickly in their correspondence, not the fake dribble of what they’d discussed at the embassy but in the sob laden confession. Even more so Nukai let his mind wonder to what he would want, what he would let slide. They were not far in age, a few months at the most, and they came from similar backgrounds. Different people. But the playing field was laid with similarities.

“It’d be a nice break.”

Nukai repositioned himself, pushing off of the door and sprawling his body to lean against the Muscat. He figured he looked like a car advertisement. At least he’d hoped so. That was the image that he hoped that he had successfully crafted. He tilted his head at an angle so that he still had to look up at the Prince of Éirea. He figured that he knew what made the son of the Dutch Empress tick. Power. Freedom of self. Control of others. Real quick. It was clear once one paid attention to the patterns that Arthur left for people to find. Cece was the one who was having an affair, the one who’d left. Arthur was the one who broke. Arthur had been all smiles and had lead every conversation at the embassy. Systems, schedules and programs were the lifeline of this man. It was where he felt best. But he felt trapped by others. By the actions of his wife, her lover, by all but him.

So Nukai had to be the one to alter the alternative. Thinking of the glances Arthur had shot him all night, he played with the emotions of the prince. Nukai and his sportscar was an escape. Someone who would bend to Arthur’s direction and left him be free of the world that looked to chain him down, he need only need see that. A dazzling third option, if he just followed were the Grand Duke lead. That was the message that Nukai had to convey. The shot he had to nail on the first take. The scene was life, lights, camera, action!

“It would be fun. Don’t you think?”

[Dutch-Empire]

Heat rose in Arthur’s face. For a moment he felt as if the world had been put into a small box, packed up neatly and then tossed up into the air, flipping end over end of one another and then coming crashing back down, only to be then opened up and left for Arthur to pick his way through the remains. He stared at Nukai. The lens that he had viewed the Grand Duke had been switched. This was no longer the military man, the member of a foreign dynasty making a visit and ready to pose for cameras. This was sighing different. He was something different, someone different. Arthur thought of the story of Circe’s mirror. Circe’s mirror now stood before him, hid reflection in the form of the Grand Duke. Nukai was a better version of Arthur. Their similar features looked better on Nukai with his sunkissed freckles and his blonde highlights woven through his hair, compared to Arthur’s tear stained cheeks and limp curls. Nukai’s clothes were clean and casual, care free whilst Arthur’s looked like the very worse of messes. Nukai shines with playful happiness, a carefree attitude that he could do as he wished and who could stop him?

Thus it was perhaps some sense of vanity that drew Arthur towards Nukai. He relaxed his hand and reversed his earlier retreat. He felt it probably ill advised, he and Nukai weren’t exactly friends, but nor were they strangers. What harm could one ride do? He wanted to have fun. He wanted for just a moment to go out and be reckless. And here Nukai was offering exactly that. Still, Arthur’s head had alarms bells ringing, though they’d been left a small echo by Nukai’s words. Arthur hesitated and he suddenly felt once again a teenager, scared of giving in to peer pressure from the cool kids.

“I-I don’t know. I think I should just walk.”

[Russlande]

“Aww,”

Nukai pouted his lips at Arthur, crossing his arms. He took an exaggerated breath as if he were a puppy that had just been kicked and had only wanted to be petted. Arthur was more stubborn than he had anticipated.

“Come on Artie,”

Nukai carefully picked the Prince’s nickname, rolling it over his tongue, letting his Russen accent twist the name like a cat’s purr. He set himself on the Muscat as if he were on display. He looked up and down at Arthur and then locked their eyes together.

“One little ride. Artie, can’t you be coerced? Come on, don’t say no. It’ll be just one,”

Nukai held up a single finger as if to punctuate his point.

“fun ride. Don’t you wanna have a little fun? Don’t you wanna ride?”

[Dutch-Empire]

Arthur couldn’t tell if he was being teased or if Nukai somehow knew his thoughts. The heat rolled over his skin like a fire storm. He half expected steam to curl off off of his body. Arthur tried to swallow around his heart that had lodged itself in his throat. It thumped against his esophagus like the beat of a war drum, pumping blood that boiled through his veins that crisscrossed his body. It turned the highway of vessels into a series of fast lanes for the wildfire of his emotions, sending the flames of his feelings lapping over his every follicle of being. It was a terrifying and yet thrilling experience. A dance of danger, though he didn’t even know what the danger was. And yet he wanted to throw himself at it, even if it was just one little joy ride. He wanted to give into the pressure that Nukai placed in him, the buttons he pushed in him.

“Okay.”

The word came out of Arthur’s mouth before he even had time to fully processed. But as soon as he did, instead of regret or any other feeling that might have made him want to take back the statement, the confirmation of his silliness to take part in this, whatever this was, his body buzzed with approval. Little shakes like earthquakes forming at the very seams of Arthur, his own tectonic plates grinding against one another, took place at once. They shattered the last of Arthur’s resolve to hold back or to say no. He wanted this. He wasn’t going to let etiquette and responsibilities hold him back. He wanted to shut off his brain for just a moment and he was going to. He rolled his shoulders, looking back into Nukai’s brown eyes. They were so different than Cece’s blue irises. Brown were incorrectly called plain. Everyone always spoke so fondly of blue eyes, and here Arthur was surrounded by the damned things. But Arthur saw that brown eyes could be just as beautiful as blue eyes , and at the moment, far more so.

“Yeah. Alright. Fuck it. I don’t have anyone waiting for me at home. Let’s do it. Let’s go. Let’s ride.”

Arthur let out a humph and marched around the front of the Muscat and threw open the passenger side of the sportscar, and before he could change his mind, jumped in, slamming the door close behind him.

[Russlande]

Nukai looked to the heavens and closed his fist around empty air, pumping his fist. His acting skill were sharper than he’d thought. Of course Arthur was Ann emotionally vulnerable mama’s boy with the social maturity of a child, but Nukai decided that it must have been his own acting skills that had tipped the scales. He pumped his fist and let out a whispered ‘yes’ to himself. Not wanted to let his excitement over take him too much, he relaxed his body and spun around smiling as he jumped into the driver seat, closing the door behind him. He looked at Arthur with a large grin, aiming for the same sunshine grin that his aunt Ava always wore.

“Awesome. Trust me, you are going to love this.”

The Grand Duke revved thé engine so that it gave a a mechanical feline roar. Without another word, Nukai shifted gears and pulled off. The Muscat jerked forward and under Nukai’s guiding hand, spun in a half donut and head back down the street, the way from which he’d come. Nukai took advantage of the emptiness of the wide avenues of Southwestern Londres to break the speed limit several times over. Nukai sped down the street, taking advantage of the preplanned nature of Londres’s layout to gain as much speed as he could. Reaching up, he pressed a button and the roof retracted. It let out a small Pop! Free form its moorings it folded in on itself, letting the artificial breeze whip into the car the the waves of the sea bracing around the windshield. With the Muscat fully converted, Nukai let out a playful whoop and sped on.

[Dutch-Empire]

Arthur couldn’t help but return the smile as they were launched forward. The buzzing in Arthur’s skin returned. When was the last time that he’d had the chance to do something like this? It was reckless. Ill-advised. Arthur loved it. There was something about feeling the vibrations of the Muscat made him feel as if he were in his element. As the world of Londres was reduced to a series of blurred streaks, stars of purple and gold and blue that rocketed through the dark only to disappear and be replaced by another, Arthur felt better than he ever had in Great Hyruke. Perhaps it was the danger of the ride. The illegality of it. The fact that he wasn’t supposed to be doing this. Adrenaline entered his system and he thought of seating in racing transports as they barreled through the Aogaian jungle.

Arthur was an anomaly in his view of war. He’d not suffered a disorder of stress after leaving it. He’d felt a longing for it. He’d loved the thrill of causing so much destruction on such a scale. There was something about holding the life of others on the balance of a bullet that sent a chill through his body, that turned him own. This was a pale comparison. Yet this was the closest he’d had to such a thrill in so long his starved body roared to consume it. As the convertible’s roof folded in on itself and disappeared, Arthur leaned back. He closed his eyes and let himself float in the moment. The breeze played in his hair like a air nymph, tousling the curls haphazard. He left himself drift. The hum of the air and roar of the wind enveloped him. Then fell away. Replaced with the thumping of his heart, excited and alive. More alive than he’d ever felt with Cece. Nukai’s whoop broke the spell.

Arthur’s eyes flicked open. He looked over at Nukai, seeing the brillant smile, that golden gleam that he seemed to have about him, the way the lights streaked behind him in a dramatic background. It was as if Nukai, this version of Arthur had created, was the only thing that was real in this moment. Arthur looked forward and pillowed his face in his fist. His voice came out stern and calm, but with military precision.

“Take me home.”

[Russlande]

Nukai looked over his shoulder in a double take at Arthur. What had happened? Just a moment ago he’d had Arthur shouting fuck let’s rid, now he’d turned cold and stern. Had he seen through the charade? Had he not hooked Arthur as well as he thought? Nukai’s furrowed his eyebrows as he looked from the street back to Arthur, slowing from break neck speed to just breaking the law speed.

“What?”

It came out a bit more offended than Nukai had meant it. He tried again, letting a small laugh out.

“What? Why?”

[Dutch-Empire]

Lions and roses were the symbol of the House of Wessex that governed the Dutch Empire. The Golden Rose, the favored symbol of Arthur’s mother was meant to be beautiful and dazzling, its petals imperious and regal. It’s however was laden with golden thorns. That left the flower unassailable. To be gazed and gawked at from afar with awe and reverence.

Arthur however in this moment was no Golden Rose. He was a lion. He was wild and vicious. He was a cat on the prowl and had was ready to sneak his fangs and his claws into the prey that he laid his eyes on. And that prey in this moment was Nukai, himself, the self he saw in Nukai. It was a a strange sort of narcissism, to see one self in another and want to devour it. Like a snake that swallowed its own tale. But Arthur cared little for the warning signs that might have signaled that he had a disorder or some sort of complex. The claws that formed from his impassioned thoughts, singleminded in their direction, in their goal, tore through any such protests of psychological future repercussions. Arthur’s eyes were as hard as titanium as they locked on to Nukai, the Grand Duke transformed into a gazelle for the lion that lurked in Arthur’s seat. The Prince of Éirea leaned forward across the chasm between the seats.

“I said take me home.”

The words came out low and as heated as the engine of the car, even as it slowed. The wheels rolling over the smooth asphalt sent vibrations up through the carefully crafted Gênoise piece of machinery and luxury, metal and leather that gave way to the Prince’s body as he moved towards the Grand Duke. Arthur let his hand slide down to Nukai’s lap, his fingers braced against the fabric of his chinos, searching for the warmth of the Russen’s skin that was hidden beneath it. His hand drifted further down, palming the Grand Duke. Arthur chose his words carefully, having leaned so close to the he whispered into Nukai’s ear.

“Take me home, so you can fuck me.”

Not even Arthur had fully expected those words to leave his lips, but the moment they did, Arthur knew that they were true. Arthur was not one to question his sexuality. He was not like his brothers. He knew he preferred women. But to this preference, Nukai served as an exception. Handsome and reminding Arthur so much of himself, a physical attraction could not be totally unexpected, if not obvious, but to Arthur there was a mental one. Not because Nukai was a particularly great conversationalist. He was however very stimulating. That desire to step fully into that mirror that the ancient sorceress placed before him tugged at him and lead him. This was reckless and out of order. It broke every rule Arthur had seen built around him. He loved it, Arthur wanted this. He would have it.

[Russlande]

Nukai nearly crashed the car. He struggled to wrestle back control of the Muscat. They swerved for several dozen feet before he evened them out. Narrowly missing crashing into a postbox, he tried to focus. A difficult thing when Arthur was touching him. Touching, touching him. His brain hadn’t been able to keep up with what was happening as well as driving. Now as he drove, his thoughts significantly more focused on other things besides the road ahead despite their near crash, he tried to speak. His voice came out an octave higher than normal before he brought it back down.

“What- I mean. What? Are you serious?”

The look in Arthur’s eyes told him he was indeed serious. Perhaps Nukai had been as great in his skills of emotional seduction as he’d thought. Perhaps even better. Seduction was the tool preferred by his maternal grandmother. Nukai had never truly considered doing so, he had not intended to invoke these impassioned flames that consumed Arthur. But he had. Nukai took a deep breath, trying to forced blood back up his body and to his head. Arthur did not make that task particularly easy. Nonetheless he struggled, but was determined to persevere. He shot Arthur that megawatt smile of conspiratorial knowing. Arthur was very serious. There was a bit of it that was scary. A wildness that did not care to hide in the curtain behind his irises, instead ripping through them and making intent known. Had Nukai been another man he might have become coward at the threat of being devoured by this prince. But Nukai was not any other man. He could handle Arthur. It was a question if Arthur could handle Nukai. The Grand Duke already knew the answer to that. He couldn’t.

“Alright then.”

Nukai purred submissively as he bent to Arthur’s direction. He shifted gears and for the second time and turned the car, heading once again back to Sandersfield House. Perfect. He shifted, took another deep breath, and pressed his foot against the gas, speeding back to the princely estate.

“You’re the boss.”

[Dutch-Empire]

Arthur’s skin buzzed like the ominous sound of a swarm of wasps. He felt a strange mix of giddiness and desire. He wanted to destroy Sandersfield House. Damn the place. It was not truly his despite all the best of his attempts to make it so. He was master of Sandersfield, but only so that he may be distracted from the grander prize of the entire kingdom. Sandersfield was a corner that he had been sent to, to be a quiet good little boy whilst the women tended to business. It didn’t belong to Arthur. It belonged to Cece and he wanted nothing more than to screw her over. What better way than screwing Nukai in that blasted home? He imagined the rage, the shock and betrayal on Cece’s face at the discovery. It was cruel. But it was an aphrodisiac for Arthur. He tried to contain himself as not make Nukai crash, but even that goal of self preservation was muted by lust. Arthur’s hand slithered up and to Nukai’s hip, sliding across it till he found his back pocket and pulled the Cercle key out. Arthur didn’t slip it onto his wrist, but activated it as they approached Sandersfield House. He cleared them through the automatic system and directed Nukai were to park.

Arthur looked back at Nukai and in heavy gusty breathers states his intentions very clearly.

“You. Me. Now.”

Impatience thumped through Arthur and he was opening the door of the wheels of the Muscat could even stop rolling. His feet hit the ground and he was marched towards the house as if he had been given orders to straight from General Hautjie. His heart was pounding, the drum of wars daring to strike the lining of his chest. He liked being given control. He loved being called the boss. He was in control as he should be.

[Russlande]

“Whoa, Wait-wait up.”

Nukai said as Arthur was jumping out of the car. Nukai parked the car. Arthur was already marching towards the house. Nukai looked around and didn’t see any of the servants that were bound to have worked at the estate. It was late. It was just him and Arthur for the moment. Nukai reaches into one of the glove compartments and pulled out a small purple container of lip balm, the name Oréale printed on it in looping black letters. The substance was a pale ivory colored on the top of his finger as he lined his lips. It turned invisible save a slight gleam, the smell of strawberries coming off of it. Nukai glanced at himself in the rear view mirror. Grabbing a more, uh, practical thing, Nukai jumped out of the Muscat, closing the door Arthur had left open and ran after him to the steps. Nukai touched Arthur’s arm as he fellowed him inside. He let out a playful laugh.

“Wait for me.”

[Dutch-Empire]

Arthur spun around as he felt Nukai touch him. It was like lightening struck him. He looked at Nukai, grasping his arm as he opened the door behind him.

“No.”

Arthur was firm, in more ways than one, as he pulled in Nukai, backing into the entrance hall of Sandersfield House. His brain struggled to complete all the tasks it wanted. His body however took over, marching backwards through the house towards its destination as Arthur gazed at Nukai, took him in with his eyes, devoured him with his fingers and thoughts.

“I am done waiting. I am never waiting ever again. I am taking what I want goddamnit.”

A maddening smile curled up Arthur’s lips. He led Nukai up the steps, a brilliant feat on the part of the Prince of Éirea, all things considered. His feelings were toggling back and forth between delight and anger, determination and lust. One of them finally one out. Which one was hard to tell. Thankfully Sandersfield was not terribly difficult to navigate. Despite its size and surely being much larger than anything the average Hyrukian lived in, it was small, modest even, for a palace. It’s lay out was simple, and Arthur knew his way better than anyone. Arthur lowered his voice as they passed the nursery, where his son, also named Arthur was no doubt asleep in his crib with his nanny at his side.

“I want you. I want you now. God, your hot, why do you even wear a shirt?”

Finally Arthur and Nukai arrived at the master bedroom. The room he and Cece shared. Or rather were supposed to share. Sometimes they could stand one another to enough to sleep in the same bed, but on most nights they separated, adjourning to different chambers, generally to this one and the bedroom on the other side of the nursery. Naturally Arthur doubted that they would ever share this room, this bed ever again. Not after Cece’s admission about her love affair. Certainly not after Arthur christened it with his own love affair.

“Fuck this country.”

Arthur words were more for himself, even as he spoke to Nukai. He started undoing Nukai’s belt and trousers as spoke.

“Fuck their Queen.”

Each syllable entered the world with a husky breath. Arthur moved to himself. He undid the buttons of his waistcoat, tossing it aside.

“Fuck Cece and her damn manwhore.”

In his hurry, Arthur ripped several of the buttons free from his dress shirt, pulling it halfway down his arms. He led Nukai over to the bed. It was ornate, with all the trappings of a bed fit for a princess and her consort.

“Fuck this damn house.”

Arthur jabbed a finger at Nukai’s chest, as if to say You. And certainly this time, the Prince of Éirea was talking to the Russen Grand Duke. He pushed himself back from Nukai with his finger, a laugh escaping his lips as he fell backwards into the bed. He brace himself on his elbows, looking up at Nukai with a sultry smile.

“Fuck me.”

[Russlande]

Nukai looked down at Arthur. A storm crackled in his chest. Various thoughts screamed at him, but he ignored, them. He was a predator playing pray. The lure in the trap. And Arthur was running right into it. The Prince of Éirea was once again more than he had anticipated, but that didn’t stop Nukai. He locked eyes with the man who would become prince Consort of this country, king if he had his way, who had caused nations to fall in Eacusia, who’d destroy anything and everything in his path, and if he wasn’t careful, himself. In this moment Nukai felt his heart truly connect with Arthur’s. Nukai pulled his sweater off, revealing the well defunded muscles that tears of growing up in the midst of Russen Navy had give him. A nautical compass rose bloomed over his left pectoral muscle. A symbol of the many miles that he’d traveled around the world.

Kicking off his loafers, Nukai climbed onto the bed after Arthur and paused. He straddled Arthur’s lap, and bent over the Prince of Éirea, a hand brushing his side. Their skin was hot were it met. The Grand Duke let his finger tips trace the curves of Arthur’s abdomen and sides, gliding over the knot of muscle on his back. Nukai vent over Arthur and brought his whispered words, sweet as honey to the same hot and heavy panting pattern that Arthur did. The sound of want, of running towards the edge of a cliff and ready to jump, the consequences be damned. He thought of what Arthur had told him and whispered.

“As you command.”

[Dutch-Empire]

Arthur smiled, ripping his eyes away from Nukai’s bare torso to look into those beautiful brown eyes. Like the earth opening up, ready to swallow him while. And Arthur wanted nothing more than to plunge deep into that fissure and be lost. Arthur had never seen such beauty before. He imagined he could see his own eyes in Nukai’s. They were the same. They were connected. The world grew quiet and soft and Arthur reached up, cupping Nukai’s face with his hand. It was as if a cord had been struck. A cord between their hearts.

“As I command.”

Arthur pushed himself up and kissed Nukai. Softly at first, and then with a swift gradation of intensity that made him cling to him like he were only solid thing in staying still and brillant in the sky of a glittering, spinning swaying world of light streaks and false stars. He ran his fingers up his neck and touched the soft sun-bleached locks of Nukai’s short curls, pressing their lips together like a seal, wanting to close every gap. His veins throbbed and lightening crackled through his limps. Arthur never wanted to pull away from the kiss, so he didn’t, only deepening it. And he felt his heart catch fire.

[Russlande]

❀❀❀❀❀❀

Several hours later, Nukai lay staring up into the ornate ceiling of the bedroom chamber of the Princess and Prince of Éirea’s home. It was still dark outside, though it was now the early hours of the morning. He lay naked next to Arthur, their arms and legs still entangled with one another. Nukai was still catching his breath, though Arthur had drifted to sleep. The air was still hot and heavy and smelled of their scents intertwined. They’d spent hours intimately. For a sad moment Nukai considered that he was the only person in the world to know Arthur as he did. Physically or Emotionally. Nukai could understand Arthur in a way that was instinctive. He doubted Cece hand any such instinct. He doubted that she had been caressed by Arthur as he had or had returned that affection. It was a profound sadness that Nukai felt for Arthur and the life that he’d lived up till now. To be locked in a glided cage with was a cruel thing. Nukai was happy to have set him free, even if it was only for one night, for several hours. Nukai touched Arthur’s face, a small smile in the prince’s face as he slept, his breathing deep and slow. Good. Nukai then prepared his escape.

Nukai detangled his limos from Arthur and took a careful step out from beneath the sheets. Stark naked and bare as he was, he had no time to consider his personal modest as he almost fell flat on his face. Arthur had been vigorous in his passion and had nearly worn Nukai as much as he’d worn Arthur out. Not wanting to wake Arthur, or worse, attract the attention of a maid or someone of that ilk, only to find him on the floor, he steeled his steps and made true his footing.

Nukai’s underwear was not too far from the bed. He was thankful as he slipped it back own. He’d feared that Arthur had torn them to shreds in his eagerness. The rest of his clothes were not too far away, thrown off into various parts of the room. He found his swear draped over a vanity. As Nukai pulled it back on, he noticed a welt on his neck. No. Not a welt. A love-bite. A series of them forming an A shape on the lower part of his next. A, for Arthur. Nukai resisted a groan. He glanced to the window. It was earlier than he had originally thought. The sun was rising over the city.

Nukai had already cleaned up after them, making careful to destroy all evidence of this scandalous affair. Nukai enjoyed little notability, and he had no desire to be attached to an amorous liaison with a married man. His own parents had caused enough scandal for their and his own and even his children’s lifetimes. And he definitely didn’t want any connection traced from him to Arthur. His grandmother would murder him. Like, actually murder him. She wasn’t exactly the one to draw the line at drawing familial blood. Making sure that he had gathered all his things, Nukai slipped on his shoes and stepped out of the bedroom and closed the door behind him with his sleeve. His finger prints, he would not leave. By the Grace of god, or perhaps by the grace of it being so early in the morning, Nukai was able to retrace his steps through Sandersfield House without running into anyone. He heart the movings around of the nanny in baby Arthur’s nursery and as he descended the stairs the kitchen staff, but no one crossed his path. He stepped outside and hurried to his car.

With the safety of the Muscat, Nukai looked into the rear view mirror and pulled out a handkerchief and wiped his lips carefully and methodically, scraping off the last vestiges of his lip balm. From the glove compartment he pulled out a flask and down a gulp of its contents. A shiver ran down his spine and he nearly gagged. Screwing the top back into place, Nukai started the car and drove through the gates of Sandersfield Estate. His heart slightly heavy for leaving like this. But it was better this way. It was the only way. Nukai put pedal to the metal. He needed to hurry. He needed to be at the embassy in time to see the games begin.