"Don’t say that," Alec breathed and David realized he'd spoken out loud.
"I would though," he said and looked down at the men below them. They might have families; children, parents, someone who looked at them and felt the way he did when he looked at Alec.
He didn't care.
"There would be more," Alec said. "Even if you--we'd never make it out of the city. The King knows who you are and when he wants something or someone he gets it. And when he meets you--sees you--you'll be safe. Safer than you've ever been. He has power."
"I don't want that. I want--" He tugged Alec close.
Alec closed his eyes. "Come back to bed," he said softly, brokenly. "It's not morning. Not yet."
When the sun finally did rise Alec was arched up over him, pushing deep inside him while one hand stroked David's cock, smiling when David twitched, gasped and then said his name.
"You're so beautiful," Alec said, and his voice was barely a whisper, "the most beautiful person I've ever known." And looking into his eyes David saw Alec wasn't talking about what he saw when he looked at him, about what he was seeing now. Alec was talking what was inside him, about his heart.
Alec saw him, saw all of him.
"I--" he said and felt words well up, words he'd only heard about in stories. Words he'd never heard directed at him, never said. Alec kissed him, stroked him harder, faster, pushed until all David could manage was a quick broken cry, his heart's song.
They rode to the palace in silence, seated inside a magnificent carriage. The three men that had been waiting outside were with them, one on either side of David, the third glowering at Alec.
"Didn't expect to see you again," he'd said when he saw him, and spit into the street. Alec had merely shrugged and said, "Still as pleasant as ever, I see," in a sharp voice, but David saw his shoulders tense. He saw the way he was sitting in the carriage, his fists tight knots resting on his legs, his feet tapping restlessly over and over, an impatient helpless rhythm. He saw Alec's eyes dart toward the carriage door, then to him. He saw a moment, saw Alec's gaze veer toward recklessness, toward hope.
Then the palace came into view. When that happened Alec stilled and that's when David knew that once they were inside only one of them would be leaving. He looked out the window, saw stone and towers and tall walls. He saw a place of many rooms and wondered which one would hold him.
Inside the palace looked nothing like the outside. It was made of clear rock, of crystal, all long tall clear hallways and rooms where the walls and floors and even the ceilings shone, sparkled and reflected light back and forth, making rainbows everywhere.
It looked like it was made of ice, and David felt trapped as soon as he walked inside.
They were taken down an endless series of glowing hallways and left waiting outside an enormous crystal door. David looked at it and thought of the window, of the three men waiting outside for them, of what he'd wanted to do. He was very afraid of what he'd see when the door opened.
Alec's hand brushed against his. "Gems," he whispered. "From the mines. That's what this place is made of. It's not--" He squeezed David's fingers. "Touch a wall."
David did. It was rough and warm under his touch, and the little rainbows sprinkled across his fingers. He wiggled his fingers a little, watched the colors dance. It looked pretty.
After a moment Alec let go of his other hand.
They were admitted in to see the King then, the enormous door pushed open and a long lustrous carpet woven of fabric so fine it shimmered like sunlight marking the path they were supposed to walk, a ring of silent armed figures guarding the perimeters of the room and watching every step they took.
The King was eating breakfast. David saw a gilded tray laden with bowls of porridge and a pot of tea. Next to the tea sat a cup and saucer, the edge of both dangling over the tray. The cup and saucer were made so finely, so delicately, that the roses painted on them looked almost real.
David had seen a saucer like it before. He looked at Alec. Alec looked back at him steadily.
"Well," the King said, standing up, and David finally looked at him. He was beautiful--tall and lean, with blond hair cropped short and bright sparkling eyes--and David realized who the statue in the fountain in the square was of, saw that it had failed to capture the King's energy, his glow.
In a grand room with shining crystal walls and a carpet that gleamed like the sun he stood out brighter than everything. He made David's brother and sister's shine seem like candlelight, like nothing. He was looking at him and he was smiling, a beautiful pleased smile. "You are--well, I don't think I've ever seen anyone so lovely. What's your name?"
"David."
"David. Surely that can't be your entire--oh," the King said, surprise in his voice, and now he was looking at Alec, his smile gone crooked, pained. "I--you--that is, I'd been told you were gone but--you--you're here."
"Surprise for me too," Alec said. His voice sounded like the King's smile.
"I thought--I was told you'd said you weren't coming back."
"I hadn't planned on it."
The King nodded, looked at David, the smile on his face trembling, and then back at Alec again.
"Are you still living in that awful little room?"
Alec nodded.
"I can't believe I ever visited there. But then," and the King's voice softened, dipped into memory and David watched, fascinated and jealous, "it's where you were."
"Michael--" Alec said, and his voice was quiet, full of memory too. David heard the collective intake of breath of all those silent figures on the edge of the room at the use of the King's name and how Alec had said it. Simply, and like he'd said it before. Like it had once been familiar to him.
"I had to--" Michael said and his voice was soft, pleading. He looked as if he'd forgotten everyone except Alec was there. "It couldn't go on. You knew that."
"I did," Alec said and his voice was steady now, calm. "It's the way of the world."
"Always right to the point. I remember when you--" Michael broke off and for a moment his smile faded and David saw regret in his eyes. When he spoke again his voice was different, commanding, and David knew he'd remembered where he was, who he was. "You know why you were summoned here?"
"Yes."
"Is it true?"
Alec shrugged. Michael made a face at him, a wry twisting of his features, and for a moment Alec smiled. But he still didn't say a word.
"Is it?" Michael said again, voice sharper, as if surprised by Alec's silence. He looked hurt, lost, and David couldn't look at him anymore. It wasn't--he hadn't expected this. All he could think about was the saucer and the look on Alec's face when he saw it, Gladys telling him that no miners were ever taught to read but that Alec could, the way Alec had looked at him that first night when he'd come back and David was still there. He looked at Alec.
Alec was looking at him. There was no expression at all on his face but his eyes--his eyes were furious, sad. Frightened. He realized that even though Alec had always said he'd known this moment or one like it would come that somehow he'd still been surprised by it, that he wasn't prepared. That he was hurting.
"It's true," David said quietly and Alec's eyes flashed pain and sorrow and something else, something that made David's own eyes sting.
"The lost prince," Michael breathed. The lost look had faded from his face and he was looking directly at him, motioned for him to come forward with one hand. He had long, beautiful fingers.
"Come here."
David looked at Alec but Alec wasn't looking at him anymore, was staring straight ahead, gazing at the crystal walls.
Up close Michael was even more beautiful, with eyes that looked at him as if he was the only person in the room and a smile that was warm, kind. "You really are lovely," he said, and his voice was husky, gentle. He put a hand on his shoulder. His hand was warm and large, stroked up over the collar of his shirt and onto his skin. "Is it true?" he said softly. "What they say about you?"
David nodded jerkily, let everything that was inside him push forth and waited for Michael's hand to fall away. He could feel Michael's hand growing cooler, waited for Michael to look at him like everyone did.
"Oh," Michael said, voice gone surprised but soft, and his hand stroked across David's skin again. The part of himself that David had felt roar to life with Henry stirred, prickled his skin and made him lean into Michael's touch. Painted pictures that made sound vibrate in his throat.
"You'll stay here," Michael said, leaning in to whisper in his ear and when he pulled away his eyes were bright and curious, a slow heat flickering through his gaze.
"I--" David said, surprised and dismayed by how strange everything was, by what he'd learned, what he felt, and looked around for Alec. He wasn't there.
He looked back at Michael.
"He's gone," Michael said quietly and there was kindness in his eyes now, understanding. "It's his way."
"I--gone?" He'd known it was coming but to have it happen like this, to have him not even see it
-- "I have to say goodbye," he said. "Please."
Michael tilted his head to one side a little, looking at David as if he were a puzzle he needed to understand. "I've never been one for farewells," he said softly. "But you--" His smile grew broader, softer. "I guess you are. Go on, then. Say goodbye. Someone will help you find your way back when you're done."
***
She was waiting for him in the hallway. He walked past her like she wasn't there.
"Alec," she said and then he stopped, turned to face her. He looked like he always had, the same dark dust all over his hands, the same thin smile, the same sharp eyes that looked right at you and saw exactly who you truly were. She'd always been able to see what had drawn Michael to him.
"Judith."
"It was necessary. He couldn't stay with you. He's--"
"I know."
"This wasn't done--" she paused, not sure what to say. "This wasn't done to hurt you. I didn't think--I didn't think you'd ever come back here, least of all with someone like--"
"I know," he said again. "Believe me, I never planned on it." He paused for a moment. "I know you love M--the King. I know you want him to be happy. Just…"
"What?" she said, unable to help herself. He'd never asked for anything, not even when she'd been waiting for him when he returned from the mines one evening, when she told him the King would be unable to see him again, that he'd been reminded of who he was, what his duties were.
He had just stared at her and then said, "Tell Michael," slowly, carefully, letting the name detonate between them, "that I understand."
"Promise me you'll be careful with him, Judith. David doesn't--he doesn't understand how things are. He needs…." His voice cracked. "Just promise me."
"You--" she said, shocked by the look in his eyes. When she'd told him about Michael she'd seen that he'd known what was coming and had guarded his heart well because of it. With Michael he'd been hurt. Hurt but able to move on. But now…now she saw he'd tried to do the same and that he'd failed. He'd given his heart, given everything. He'd fallen in love. She hadn't thought he was so stupid.
"Promise me," he said again quietly, brokenly, and she nodded. He turned and walked away.
"I'm sorry," she said after he was gone and she was, a little. Her words echoed back at her through the crystal hallway, unheard. She folded her hands together and walked back down the hall, toward the King.
***
He couldn't find Alec. David ran down one hallway and then another, endless twists of gleaming rock. Then he saw him, impossibly far away, and called his name.
Alec didn't stop. David called his name again, louder, and ran faster, breath rushing out of him, the walls echoing the sound of his breathing, of Alec's name, back to him over and over again.
Alec stopped.
"I just--" David said when he reached him. "You have to say goodbye."
Alec started to say something sharp, cruel--David saw it in his eyes--but then he looked away from him, as if he couldn't bear to see what was in his face. "You'll be fine here," he said. "You'll be happy."
"I won't."
"David--"
"I'm not the Ki--I'm not Michael." His own voice tightened saying that name, at the thought of hearing Alec say it so easily.
"No," Alec said, and now he was looking at him. "You're not."
"I want to stay with you. I--I love you." He'd never said it before and knew, as soon as he did, that he wouldn’t say it again. It didn't matter. It wouldn't change what was happening. It wouldn't change anything.
"No," Alec said softly. "You don't love me. You ran away and straight to me. That's not love.
You don't--you don't know what it is."
David nodded, biting his lip. He couldn't feel it. He bit harder and still felt nothing. He could see the walls around them clouding, crystallizing with cold. He didn't feel that either.
"Don't," Alec said, and touched his face, traced a thumb across his mouth. "I'm not worth it."
"You--" David said and there was something scratching at his throat, clawing up behind his eyes.
He stared at Alec, saw the way his hands were resting shaking by his sides, a dark smear across the glittering black dust that covered his thumb. He could feel bits of the dust stinging into his mouth now, into his heart. "I won't forget you."
"Of course you will," Alec said gently.
And then he walked away.
***
Michael courted him. That's what he'd called it anyway, afterwards, and David thought it was a good word. It sounded nice, slow and gentle and exactly like Michael coming to see him in the rooms he'd had him put in, a gleaming suite with enormous windows that looked out onto gardens sculpted to look like oceans and forests and hollows where nothing but flowers bloomed.
There was even one made into a desert, piled high with brown sand and covered with blue yellow glass shaped to look like sun and sky.
"You can go see them anytime you'd like," Michael said that first day, only hours after David had been led down one hallway after another to a maze of rooms he was told to call his own, the image of Alec walking away still strong in his mind. "And I'd--I'd love to show them to you." He sounded shy and sure and perfect and David hated him so much it scared him. The chair he was sitting on cracked and splintered but didn't fall apart. It just hung there, frozen and broken. He waited for Michael to say something, to do something--he'd seen what was in his eyes earlier--