Part 3

Lance leaned against the cell door and shut his eyes for a long time. 'What were you doing?' he berated himself. 'Staring like that...though he was staring, too, so maybe that part wasn't so bad. But lingering over the Prince's bonds, that was bad.' He'd almost reached out to massage his hands for a moment. 'What's wrong with me?' Lance wondered. 'The Prince is a prisoner, not a suitor! Have I lost the ability to react to people in any other way?' He shook his head at himself and headed for the laundry to pick up spare sheets and a shit.

The laundry maid who filled his request gave him an odd look and it occurred to Lance that he didn't know how quiet Chris wanted to keep the Prince's presence. Better safe than sorry, Lance figured, and smiled mysteriously instead of offering an explanation. She was likely to attribute it to one of the suitors. It was only as he lingered outside the kitchen that it occurred to Lance that he'd need help to carry the sheets, shirt, the Prince's dinner and his own, since he'd missed the general meal call while hiding from the suitors. Sighing, he caught the eye of a young woman he knew he could trust.

"I need two dinner trays, help to carry them and your promise that you won't say a word to anyone about where we take them," he responded, his tone quiet and serious. Her eyes widened, but she just nodded and went to get the trays.

To her credit, the cook didn't say a word when they passed the sitting rooms, or when they passed the bedrooms, or when they ventured outside and across the north-northwest courtyard. She looked horribly curious when they passed the first guard and climbed the stairs, but still bit back her questions. Lance had her set down the trays on the last landing. "Thank you, Mary," he said, and kissed her on the cheek. "I hope I'll be able to explain this to you someday. Remember your promise."

Lance awkwardly tucked the laundry under one arm, picked up the dinner tray and tapped briefly on the cell door before unlocking it and stepping inside. Inside the Prince seemed to be sitting in the exact same position as before, save that he'd draped his hands over his thighs. Perhaps he hadn't moved. Lance set the laundry at one end of the sleeping ledge and the tray at the other. Turning, he ducked out the door.

"Wait!" Lance turned back at the cry, surprised. The Prince was standing, as if to follow. He looked sheepish and shrugged before going on. "Stay for awhile? I'm going to be here for weeks. If I only have myself for company all that time I'll go insane."

It was the slight smile that did him in. Lance couldn't help smiling back. "All right. Just give me a moment." He left the cell, locking it behind himself, and picked up his dinner tray. Returning, he unlocked the door, stepped inside, locked it behind himself and handed the key to the guard through the barred window. The Prince gave the second tray a surprised glance. "I was hiding when the dinner bell went," Lance explained.

"I see," the Prince said, though he didn't, really. "We haven't been properly introduced," he went on, with a self-mocking smile. Who made introductions in a situation like this? "I'm Prince Joshua Chasez of Iiawah. Everyone calls me JC."

So this was the elder son, Lance though, and felt obscurely relieved. Rumor had it the younger was something of a womanizer. "Prince Lance Bass," he responded. "Don't ask about my brother and my different names. It's a long story."

JC shrugged as he picked up a fork. "I have time if you do," he said, and gestured with the utensil for Lance to go on before starting in on his dinner. Lance smiled and started in on the tale in between bites of dinner.

Lance took the tower stairs two at a time and paused for a moment outside the cell door to catch his breath. He slipped inside and tucked the key into the inside pocket of his trousers. "I know I'm later than usual," he told JC apologetically. "I just couldn't seem to get away from the suitors today."

"Okay," JC said earnestly, sitting up from where he'd been lying on the sleeping ledge, "my curiosity is killing me. Who are these suitors? You talk about them all the time."

Lance sighed and ran his fingers through his hair before explaining. "You know about the prophecy?" JC, not surprisingly, nodded. It was a pretty basic fact to know about the kingdom next door. "Well, Chris didn't put much stock in it when we were growing up. Despite father's matchmaking attempts during his last years Chris never fell in Love. When father died, then mother, the Royal Advisors were desperate to find someone for Chris. He ignored them, married for convenience. The state of things in the realm was been going downhill ever since.

"About two, three years ago Chris finally admitted he'd been wrong. But it was too late. He's married and has small children. The prophecy is very specific about whose love will fulfill it - "Father, mother, brother, son/Daughter, sister, any one." Father and mother are gone, Chris' children are still toddlers and we have no other siblings, which basically means I'm the last hope for the Kingdom." He was quiet for long moment, not looking at JC. "It's bad enough when you're 16 and have convinced yourself you'll never find the love you long for. Having an entire kingdom breathing down your neck, watching, waiting..." he shrugged and leaned into the comforting arm JC put around his shoulders. "The suitors are the men and women who've come to the palace to court me."

"Lance!" JC called, and stopped him with a hand on his elbow. "Wait, give me a moment." Lance turned, posture stiff, and waited. "It's not that men don't court men in Iiawah. They do. But it's not accepted. They aren't treated very well." Lance took a backwards step and JC, seeing that he was only digging himself in deeper, spilled his explanation in a series of half-thoughts and broken sentences he could only hope Lance understood. "It hasn't been easy for me. I've never...well, except for Justin. He knows. And I could never...my affairs weren't...they could never mean anything. All these women, and I never wanted who I was supposed to, but I had to pretend, and my father would *kill* me is he knew." JC ran out of breath then and could only plead silently for Lance to understand.

"Oh, Jace," Lance murmured, and the next thing he knew Lance was in his arms, holding him. JC could only wrap his arms about Lance and hold him back. JC leaned against Lance and reveled in the simple pleasure of contact. It was strange to touch, like this, free of the nervousness, the guilt that usually plagued him. Even in the few affairs he'd had they were both painfully aware of what they were doing. Now he gave himself up to Lance and forgot everything but the man in his arms. After a moment he let his forehead rest on Lance's shoulder and just breathed. JC didn't want to let go. He just wanted to stay there, enjoying Lance's warmth and his scent. He wanted to turn his head and kiss the pale column of throat, to taste Lance's skin.

Lance shrugged but answered. "The prophecy doesn't specify the gender of the royal's beloved. The people were a little surprised when the prophecy held true even though the King's beloved was a man, but it proved beyond a doubt that that kind of love was just as valid as that between a man and a woman. Now...I guess we take it for granted."

JC sighed and sat on the sleeping ledge. "I envy you. My father has become convinced that I need to find a wife and settle down. He," JC hesitated, "he warned me that if I didn't choose one for myself by the end of the year, he would choose one for me."

JC laughed bitterly. "I don't know. Go along with it, I suppose. What else can I do? I keep finding myself hoping he refuses to pay the ransom." 'I don't want to leave you', he added silently.

The page caught up to Lance on his way to the north-northwest tower. "His majesty wants to speak with you," the page informed him. "Now." Lance sighed and hoped JC would understand his absence this afternoon. Turning away from the tower he made his way back through the halls of the palace to Chris' office. The King was waiting for him. Lance seated himself and waited.

"I have received complaints," Chris began, "from the suitors that you aren't spending enough time with them." He cut off Lance's protest with a raised hand. "I set a page to keep an eye on you. He reports that you are spending less than half your usual time with them." Lance remained silent. There was nothing he could say - it was true. "When I gave you responsibility for Prince Chasez," he went on, "I did not intend for it to have such a pronounced impact on your duty to the prophecy. Fortunately, there is a simple solution to this problem. As of tomorrow morning, you are relieved of your duties to the prisoner."

Lance slowly rose and retreated to his room. He sat on the edge of his bed for a long time. Without his responsibility to JC he had no excuse for his visits. The guards would doubtlessly be instructed that he was not to drop by anymore. They probably already had been. Lance couldn't seem to get past that thought, not even to wonder why he was so devastated. He passed the rest of the day in a daze.

It was as he was sharing a dinner with one of the suitors that new thoughts began to penetrate the fog he was wandering around in. He sat there, stirring his soup and ignoring his companion's stream of chatter, and started making a list of the things he would miss about JC.

'His eyes. His voice. The way he listens to me as much as he talks to me. The way he started out nervous to touch me, then throws himself into it. His silly fictions about the suitors. His...oh God. I'm in love with him.'

'I'm in love with him and as of tomorrow morning I'll have no reason to see him.' Suddenly he needed to see JC right that second, to be with him. "I'm sorry," he said to his dinner companion. "I have to go. I've just realized I forgot to do something very important." He was gone, half running through the halls, before she could utter a word.

The guard at the bottom of the stairs tried to stop him. "He's my responsibility until morning," Lance said, firmly, and pushed onward. The second guard gave way to the same statement. It took Lance a little longer to convince him to guard from one landing down, but eventually he went. Only after he was gone did Lance tap and enter the cell.

"Lance?" JC sat up. "What's wrong?" When Lance failed to answer, suddenly tongue-tied, JC stood and took hold of him by the elbows. "Lance. Talk to me," he said intensely, holding Lance's gaze.

Pulled him close and pressed against him and held him and kissed him. Lance slipped his arms around JC's waist and kissed him back. JC's lips were soft, his caresses definite despite the hesitancy he often displayed. After a long moment, they pulled just far enough apart to speak. "I love you, too," JC whispered against his lips.


	Inner Reflection \| home back to A Tale of Two Princes Part 3 Lance leaned against the cell door and shut his eyes for a long time. 'What were you doing?' he berated himself. 'Staring like that...though he was staring, too, so maybe that part wasn't so bad. But lingering over the Prince's bonds, that was bad.' He'd almost reached out to massage his hands for a moment. 'What's wrong with me?' Lance wondered. 'The Prince is a prisoner, not a suitor! Have I lost the ability to react to people in any other way?' He shook his head at himself and headed for the laundry to pick up spare sheets and a shit. The laundry maid who filled his request gave him an odd look and it occurred to Lance that he didn't know how quiet Chris wanted to keep the Prince's presence. Better safe than sorry, Lance figured, and smiled mysteriously instead of offering an explanation. She was likely to attribute it to one of the suitors. It was only as he lingered outside the kitchen that it occurred to Lance that he'd need help to carry the sheets, shirt, the Prince's dinner and his own, since he'd missed the general meal call while hiding from the suitors. Sighing, he caught the eye of a young woman he knew he could trust. "How can I help you, highness?" she asked, wiping the flour off her hands with the edge of her skirt. "I need two dinner trays, help to carry them and your promise that you won't say a word to anyone about where we take them," he responded, his tone quiet and serious. Her eyes widened, but she just nodded and went to get the trays. To her credit, the cook didn't say a word when they passed the sitting rooms, or when they passed the bedrooms, or when they ventured outside and across the north-northwest courtyard. She looked horribly curious when they passed the first guard and climbed the stairs, but still bit back her questions. Lance had her set down the trays on the last landing. "Thank you, Mary," he said, and kissed her on the cheek. "I hope I'll be able to explain this to you someday. Remember your promise." "Of course, highness," Mary curtsied and disappeared down the stairs. Lance awkwardly tucked the laundry under one arm, picked up the dinner tray and tapped briefly on the cell door before unlocking it and stepping inside. Inside the Prince seemed to be sitting in the exact same position as before, save that he'd draped his hands over his thighs. Perhaps he hadn't moved. Lance set the laundry at one end of the sleeping ledge and the tray at the other. Turning, he ducked out the door. "Wait!" Lance turned back at the cry, surprised. The Prince was standing, as if to follow. He looked sheepish and shrugged before going on. "Stay for awhile? I'm going to be here for weeks. If I only have myself for company all that time I'll go insane." It was the slight smile that did him in. Lance couldn't help smiling back. "All right. Just give me a moment." He left the cell, locking it behind himself, and picked up his dinner tray. Returning, he unlocked the door, stepped inside, locked it behind himself and handed the key to the guard through the barred window. The Prince gave the second tray a surprised glance. "I was hiding when the dinner bell went," Lance explained. "I see," the Prince said, though he didn't, really. "We haven't been properly introduced," he went on, with a self-mocking smile. Who made introductions in a situation like this? "I'm Prince Joshua Chasez of Iiawah. Everyone calls me JC." So this was the elder son, Lance though, and felt obscurely relieved. Rumor had it the younger was something of a womanizer. "Prince Lance Bass," he responded. "Don't ask about my brother and my different names. It's a long story." JC shrugged as he picked up a fork. "I have time if you do," he said, and gestured with the utensil for Lance to go on before starting in on his dinner. Lance smiled and started in on the tale in between bites of dinner. *** (two weeks later) Lance took the tower stairs two at a time and paused for a moment outside the cell door to catch his breath. He slipped inside and tucked the key into the inside pocket of his trousers. "I know I'm later than usual," he told JC apologetically. "I just couldn't seem to get away from the suitors today." "Okay," JC said earnestly, sitting up from where he'd been lying on the sleeping ledge, "my curiosity is killing me. Who are these suitors? You talk about them all the time." "Do I?" "Like they're a swarm of bees who are constantly harassing you," JC said dryly. Lance winced. "That's not good." He sighed. "I'm supposed to fall in Love with one of them." He sat heavily on the sleeping ledge next to JC. "Supposed to?" JC leaned forward with open curiosity. Lance sighed and ran his fingers through his hair before explaining. "You know about the prophecy?" JC, not surprisingly, nodded. It was a pretty basic fact to know about the kingdom next door. "Well, Chris didn't put much stock in it when we were growing up. Despite father's matchmaking attempts during his last years Chris never fell in Love. When father died, then mother, the Royal Advisors were desperate to find someone for Chris. He ignored them, married for convenience. The state of things in the realm was been going downhill ever since. "About two, three years ago Chris finally admitted he'd been wrong. But it was too late. He's married and has small children. The prophecy is very specific about whose love will fulfill it - "Father, mother, brother, son/Daughter, sister, any one." Father and mother are gone, Chris' children are still toddlers and we have no other siblings, which basically means I'm the last hope for the Kingdom." He was quiet for long moment, not looking at JC. "It's bad enough when you're 16 and have convinced yourself you'll never find the love you long for. Having an entire kingdom breathing down your neck, watching, waiting..." he shrugged and leaned into the comforting arm JC put around his shoulders. "The suitors are the men and women who've come to the palace to court me." "Men?" JC exclaimed, startled. Men came courting the Prince of Tropria? "Yeah," Lance confirmed, pulling away when he saw JC's shocked expression. "Is something wrong?" "Men don't court men in Iiawah," JC answered thoughtlessly. "Well," Lance's tone was stiff, "I hope I haven't offended you." He stood and all but ran to the cell door. "Lance!" JC called, and stopped him with a hand on his elbow. "Wait, give me a moment." Lance turned, posture stiff, and waited. "It's not that men don't court men in Iiawah. They do. But it's not accepted. They aren't treated very well." Lance took a backwards step and JC, seeing that he was only digging himself in deeper, spilled his explanation in a series of half-thoughts and broken sentences he could only hope Lance understood. "It hasn't been easy for me. I've never...well, except for Justin. He knows. And I could never...my affairs weren't...they could never mean anything. All these women, and I never wanted who I was supposed to, but I had to pretend, and my father would kill me is he knew." JC ran out of breath then and could only plead silently for Lance to understand. "Oh, Jace," Lance murmured, and the next thing he knew Lance was in his arms, holding him. JC could only wrap his arms about Lance and hold him back. JC leaned against Lance and reveled in the simple pleasure of contact. It was strange to touch, like this, free of the nervousness, the guilt that usually plagued him. Even in the few affairs he'd had they were both painfully aware of what they were doing. Now he gave himself up to Lance and forgot everything but the man in his arms. After a moment he let his forehead rest on Lance's shoulder and just breathed. JC didn't want to let go. He just wanted to stay there, enjoying Lance's warmth and his scent. He wanted to turn his head and kiss the pale column of throat, to taste Lance's skin. At that thought, JC reluctantly stepped back from Lance. "Thank you," he said quietly. "My pleasure," Lance responded. Then, realizing the context, flushed but did not take back the words. "How is it," JC began tentatively, "that...things are different in Tropria than in Iiawah?" Lance shrugged but answered. "The prophecy doesn't specify the gender of the royal's beloved. The people were a little surprised when the prophecy held true even though the King's beloved was a man, but it proved beyond a doubt that that kind of love was just as valid as that between a man and a woman. Now...I guess we take it for granted." JC sighed and sat on the sleeping ledge. "I envy you. My father has become convinced that I need to find a wife and settle down. He," JC hesitated, "he warned me that if I didn't choose one for myself by the end of the year, he would choose one for me." "Can he do that?" Lance asked in quiet horror. "Yes. His offer to let me choose is actually relatively unusual." "What are you going to do?" JC laughed bitterly. "I don't know. Go along with it, I suppose. What else can I do? I keep finding myself hoping he refuses to pay the ransom." 'I don't want to leave you', he added silently. *** (1 week later) The page caught up to Lance on his way to the north-northwest tower. "His majesty wants to speak with you," the page informed him. "Now." Lance sighed and hoped JC would understand his absence this afternoon. Turning away from the tower he made his way back through the halls of the palace to Chris' office. The King was waiting for him. Lance seated himself and waited. "I have received complaints," Chris began, "from the suitors that you aren't spending enough time with them." He cut off Lance's protest with a raised hand. "I set a page to keep an eye on you. He reports that you are spending less than half your usual time with them." Lance remained silent. There was nothing he could say - it was true. "When I gave you responsibility for Prince Chasez," he went on, "I did not intend for it to have such a pronounced impact on your duty to the prophecy. Fortunately, there is a simple solution to this problem. As of tomorrow morning, you are relieved of your duties to the prisoner." "But -" was all Lance could get out before Chris cut him off with a sharp glance. "My mind is made up. Now go." Lance slowly rose and retreated to his room. He sat on the edge of his bed for a long time. Without his responsibility to JC he had no excuse for his visits. The guards would doubtlessly be instructed that he was not to drop by anymore. They probably already had been. Lance couldn't seem to get past that thought, not even to wonder why he was so devastated. He passed the rest of the day in a daze. It was as he was sharing a dinner with one of the suitors that new thoughts began to penetrate the fog he was wandering around in. He sat there, stirring his soup and ignoring his companion's stream of chatter, and started making a list of the things he would miss about JC. 'His eyes. His voice. The way he listens to me as much as he talks to me. The way he started out nervous to touch me, then throws himself into it. His silly fictions about the suitors. His...oh God. I'm in love with him.' Lance dropped the spoon into the soup. 'I'm in love with him and as of tomorrow morning I'll have no reason to see him.' Suddenly he needed to see JC right that second, to be with him. "I'm sorry," he said to his dinner companion. "I have to go. I've just realized I forgot to do something very important." He was gone, half running through the halls, before she could utter a word. The guard at the bottom of the stairs tried to stop him. "He's my responsibility until morning," Lance said, firmly, and pushed onward. The second guard gave way to the same statement. It took Lance a little longer to convince him to guard from one landing down, but eventually he went. Only after he was gone did Lance tap and enter the cell. "Lance?" JC sat up. "What's wrong?" When Lance failed to answer, suddenly tongue-tied, JC stood and took hold of him by the elbows. "Lance. Talk to me," he said intensely, holding Lance's gaze. Lance took a deep breath. "I'm in love with you." He held the breath he'd taken, abruptly unsure of JC's reaction. JC kissed him. Pulled him close and pressed against him and held him and kissed him. Lance slipped his arms around JC's waist and kissed him back. JC's lips were soft, his caresses definite despite the hesitancy he often displayed. After a long moment, they pulled just far enough apart to speak. "I love you, too," JC whispered against his lips. "I need to be with you tonight." "I need you every night," JC responded. That was all that really needed to be said.