[Getting to hold his husband’s hand is only one of the pleasures that walking to their destination provides Liem. He surrenders his free hand readily, returning Cardan’s smile with a small, quick grin of his own before he leads them both away from the house, taking them through sprawling gardens he rarely has occasion to traverse, at least at this time of year. Though many of the plants are sleeping for the winter, tucked beneath their soft, snowy blanket, glossy evergreens make curious shapes around the couple as they wend their way towards the far side of the gardens, trading cleared walkways for the soft crunch of untouched snow underfoot as they reach the far edge; there, a low, gently sloping rise obscures the sweep of broad, frozen river snaking out from the edge of the wood.]
We should have done this long before now. I keep forgetting that I must acquaint you with proper winters.
[His observation is wistful, even as they tromp their way through the snowy landscape. He has found far less time than he’d like to indulge his desires for his husband—particularly of his own accord, which brings a brief frown to his face. It does not sit right with him that Cardan should so often be the one responsible for insisting they steal some time for themselves. The thought that his husband might think him content to leave Cardan to his own devices unless he demands Liem’s attention makes his chest tighten a little for the first time in days.
He glances over at his spouse, his expression a little wry.]
Also, I do not often have the opportunity to introduce you to things you will enjoy.
[ It is beautiful. For all of his acquaintance with Elfhame's lushness, he has grown an appreciation for the stark landscapes of winter. Even blanketed with soft snowy shapes, there is something unforgiving about black trees against the white, about the bare starry sky between the naked branches. It makes him homesick for a thing he cannot quite name.
Liem's comment only deepens the feeling. His husband is right: they should have gone out more. Perhaps Cardan should have pushed more for it. But he had been tired, and so consumed with other matters--
Well, there is no use ruing something that's past. He cuts the thought off, decisively, and elects to raise an eyebrow at Liem instead. ]
You seem confident.
[ He's probably right. Cardan doesn't know whether he'd enjoy skating on its own, but it's rare for Liem to show him things he likes, and that in itself is bound to be a pleasure. For all that they spend almost every waking hour together, he yet feels like there are parts of his husband's life he knows precious little about. ]
Did you learn this before or after you learned to climb trees?
Why shouldn’t he be? His husband will enjoy the snow and the forest and the chance to be away from the house, if nothing else. And he will enjoy having Liem’s undivided attention, which is rare enough during their nights. But mostly, Liem thinks he will enjoy it because it seems like the sort of thing his husband would have liked, if he had hailed from a land with winter ice.
Cardan’s hand feels pleasingly solid in his as they walk along the slope, boots whispering through the powdery snow layered over the landscape. The change of scenery seems immediately to have brightened his mood; when he steals another glance at his husband, the warm contentment curling up inside him is visible in his regard.]
You know, I'm not certain.
[He contemplates this question for a moment, trying to remember if there was a certain age he’d learned— well, either activity, really. All he can say for certain is that it must have been before his mother’s death, because he’s sure he recalls skating with her at least once.]
When I was small, certainly. But perhaps it was before; certainly I would have skated more often then I ever climbed trees, especially when I was much younger.
[ Thinking of Liem as a young child always makes him feel a little strange. That little boy in the paintings -- he seems both like a stranger and yet not much changed from the serious man who accompanies Cardan down the slope. Except, of course, that Liem isn't being particularly serious now.
Cardan grins. ]
I climbed trees often, as a child.
[ The grin widens, unrepentant. ]
...mostly so I could drag other children out of them.
[ He doesn't like reminiscing about his childhood -- when he was more feral foundling than boy, treated by all as an unruly pet. But the terror he visited upon other children, at least, he'd always found warranted: a good number had been larger and older than him, and far too impertinent towards a prince. He had only taught them a valuable lesson in politics. ]
But I cannot say I have ever skated. [ He glances over at the river, keeping his tone unconcerned. ] How do you know the ice won't break?
[Liem answers Cardan’s unrepentant grin with an amused smile of his own. Unlike his husband, he has never had an opportunity to see any childhood paintings of his spouse—but he is familiar enough with the kind of scrappy mischief he describes, even if he himself was rarely the perpetrator of such wildness. The thought of a small Cardan menacing other children from their tree perches like a mean, black-haired pine marten is more endearing than it should be.]
I would not have known what to do with you when I was small.
[He says this dryly, and without embarrassment. It is plainly obvious to him, after all, not least of all because he barely knows what to do with Cardan now.
The broad, flat stretch of frozen-over river beckons as they near it, clear blue ice dusted with powdery snow. A short distance away is a gazebo that makes for a pleasant reading spot in the warm months; presently, the snow-free interior makes for a convenient place to put on their skates, so he turns them towards it.]
At this time of year, the ice should be too thick. Especially given how cold it was for the first couple of weeks after we returned.
[No wonder Cardan had been ailing with his anemia. Supposedly it was quite cold while they were away, as well, but obviously there was still plenty of winter’s bitter chill left to welcome them back.]
[ Should be seems like insufficient guarantee to him -- especially since from where he's standing, he cannot tell how thick the ice might actually be. He steals a frown at the frozen river, not that it matters. Liem seems confident, and besides -- Cardan isn't going to deny either of them this pleasure, given how rarely his husband shows him things he enjoys doing. The ice could be visibly cracking, and he'd still valiantly follow Liem's lead onto it for the chance to see more of those rare smiles.
And anyway, there are better topics of conversation. His gaze slides back to Liem, one brow arched. ]
I would have eaten you alive when you were small.
[ Even if Liem was supernaturally durable, and older -- what chance would he have stood against the sheer weight Cardan's fury? He may not have had tutors in writing or history, but he'd certainly received ample lessons on getting his way. ]
No one knew what to do with me. I was quite liberal with my teeth, and wholly unfettered by decorum.
[Blissfully unaware of his husband’s distrust for the frozen river, Liem treks through the snow with a light heart and a warm hand, tucked as it is into Cardan’s own. It should probably be telling that the chance to simply walk hand-in-hand with his husband and then teach him to skate is already making him almost deliriously happy—perhaps he spends slightly too much of his nights absorbed in his work, and not enough of them doing things he enjoys—but he is not thinking about any of that right now. He is thinking about Cardan running rampant as a child, bullying and biting everyone who crossed him.
Liem’s lips twitch, and he slides a sidelong glance at his spouse.]
And this is different from how you are now?
[Has his husband not already eaten him alive on multiple occasions since their wedding? Does he not still possess a marked fondness for biting, and seem to view decorum as largely optional? This has certainly been Liem’s impression, and one that has held strong over the last half a year.
The gazebo looms prettily ahead, and he brings them into it, shrugging the bag from his shoulder so he can set it down on the lightly snow-dusted wood. He kneels, already pulling the bag open.]
Sit, your Highness, and I will attend to your boots.
[ He laughs, unabashed at Liem's accusation. Well, he's not wrong -- Cardan is all those things, still, except: ]
I have not bitten anyone else, have I?
[ His teeth flash at Liem, mock-threatening. ]
Yet.
[ Nor has he plans to; everyone except Gusairne is liable to enjoy it too much, and Cardan would rather stuff his mouth with ash than put it on the surly seneschal's skin.
Anyway, now is not the time to think about the world's most accomplished thief of joy. Liem offers to handle his boots, and so Cardan will smile dazzlingly down at him as he folds himself onto a bench covered with snow as light as icing sugar. He proffers his boot to Liem with characteristically royal arrogance. ]
What a pleasure. I see you like this too rarely.
[ Usually it's Cardan, after all, who is doing the kneeling. ]
[From the bag, Liem withdraws two pairs of skates: not actual footwear, per se, but steel blades with clasps and fastenings meant to allow them to grip the bottoms of appropriately sized boots. The ones meant for Cardan are notably a bit longer than his own, so there’s no danger of confusion.
Despite his husband’s menace and arrogance, the grasp with which Liem takes the proffered foot is tender. Dusting loose snow from the leather, he reaches for the first skate as he aims a quiet, almost secretive smile up at his spouse.]
Well, it wouldn’t do for me to spend all my time on my knees.
[His gaze returns to his task, though his attention is manifestly still on Cardan, even as he works to affix the skate firmly to his boot. Playfulness still flirts with his expression, even if his hands remain deliberate. Like the dusting of fresh snow, his tone is dry and light.]
[ Cardan has to admit he has never considered just how bizarre it is to strap blades to one's feet in an effort to traverse ice -- up until this moment, when backing out is no longer an option. He imagines the person who invented this dubious sport must have been perversely drunk.
But it still doesn't matter, when Liem's face alights with rare mischief. Cardan should be far past the point of butterflies -- let alone ones prompted by such banal things as Liem's careful grip on his ankle. He cannot even blame the little piece of his husband inside of him for that one; for all that Liem has plenty of endearing traits, "blushing virgin" has never been one of them.
Liem's question makes him huff out a plume of warm air, and then sink back dramatically against the gazebo railing. ]
Alas, I fear your caution is belated, [ he informs Liem, mournfully, though his black gaze is evaluating. The idea of Liem on his knees all the time is oddly intoxicating for its clear impossibility; he turns it over in his thoughts, unable to dismiss the image. If it speeds his pulse, well, Liem should be used to that by now. ]
Besides, you have wed a prince. Being spoiled rotten is but part of my care and feeding.
[Liem, who has long since ceased to find anything strange about the concept of ice skating, continues contentedly with the task of turning his husband’s boots into skates. This is the first time he has ever had cause to strap skates onto someone else’s feet rather than his own, and the opportunity to do so for Cardan is unexpectedly pleasurable. Despite his own teasing, he can’t help but agree that he spends too little time attending his husband this way—but then, he is ever greedy to get his hands on Cardan, no matter how much he might attempt to distract himself from this preoccupation. It is just that distracting himself has started to seem rather less important of late.
Particularly considering the ever-intriguing effect his touch so often seems to have on Cardan’s pulse.]
Is it? I hope I haven’t been neglectful…
[As he murmurs this, half-thoughtful, his gloved hand slides up Cardan’s ankle and along the underside of his calf, wandering with idle interest up his leg as he meets his husband’s black, considering gaze. Surely it won’t do for him to fall short in his spousal duties….?
But he only sets the leg down gently and retrieves his other boot, so he might affix the skate to that one as well. Deliberate, still, even if Cardan’s pulse is still thudding enticingly in his ears.]
[ It is cruel of Liem to manage to make this endeavour sensual even when it's cold outside. Cruel, because his touch on Cardan's bare skin is liable to be uncomfortably chill, and Cardan's got a skate strapped to one of his boots besides -- which makes for an unstable foundation upon which to start getting frisky. Cruel, too, that Cardan wishes to--
Actually, he will. Why shouldn't he? His gloved fingers find Liem's jaw, curl around his chin -- to hold him there when Cardan leans down to steal a kiss. If his husband is going to be sly with him, then the least he could do is pay Cardan's toll.
He stays there, for a moment, his mouth curling in a smug little grin. ]
[Liem could not honestly claim to be surprised by the curl of gloved fingers around his jaw, or the hungry kiss his husband steals as payment for his teasing. He cannot be anything but pleased about it either, supremely satisfied with both the kiss and the charming, smug look his spouse wears as he lingers there, bent over Liem with his fingers gripping his chin. As always, the expression looks unfairly good on him, and distractingly appealing.
Fortunately, Liem sees no reason not to lean up and kiss him again, so he can trace the sultry curve of that lower lip with his tongue.]
Personally, I find you delectable.
[Does this mean he hasn’t been doing his due diligence in caring for his husband? He thinks perhaps it does, and though he doubts that any amount of spoiling will succeed in changing his mind, he is not averse to applying himself more thoroughly to this task.
Even though he is still intent on dragging Cardan out onto the ice, and even though his hands are still busy fitting the skate to his husband’s other boot.]
[ Cardan's hand slides into Liem's hair as his husband kisses him again, cradling the back of his head. Even chilly as it is, the swipe of Liem's tongue provokes in him a soft shiver entirely unrelated to cold.
Liem's question is one he probably should have an answer to, given both his aptitude for excesses and his royal heritage, and yet-- what can he tell his husband? That he wants him to quit departing for the office each afternoon before Cardan is even awake? That he would prefer it if Liem worked less hard for his own -- and Cardan's -- safety? For so much of his life, Cardan has gotten everything he'd asked for, except the things he had truly wanted. His marriage is no different, and he cannot even blame anyone but himself for the problem.
Even wanting those things is unaccountably greedy.
Thankfully, what he lacks in temperance, he more than makes up for in shamelessness. ]
I want your attention, [ is what he tells Liem, his gaze half-lidded on his husband's face. He hasn't let go of him yet, though he will pull back a little to sit up. There is something a little imperious in his face. ]
Incessantly. Unfailingly.
Perhaps I want to be your favourite.
[ That's not even an outrageous demand, considering Liem has voiced much the same. ]
[Ah… When Cardan says things like this, Liem thinks perhaps he is neglecting him after all. He cannot remember a day they have been married when his husband hasn’t been eager to insert himself into Liem’s work, his leisure, his space. Cardan has not done a terribly good job of disabusing Liem of the notion that he might be rather lonely, and he is keenly aware that he remains the only person in Ironside whom his husband knows particularly well.
But that is why they are out here now, taking a break from work on Cardan’s request, so he might pay his husband the attention he desires. Liem tips his head as he returns his husband’s regard, leaning into the touch of the gloved hand in his hair.]
How fortunate for you, then, that you already are.
[Cardan had implied that there could be no other he preferred as much as Liem, but the reverse is unambiguously true; of all the handsome, wicked, alluring aristocrats he must contend with at every lavish event, only his imperious royal husband is so skilled at coaxing smiles from him, even when he has no intention of parting with them.
He parts with one now, as he gives the fastenings of Cardan’s skate one last tug and then picks himself up to sit on the bench next to his spouse.]
You already have my attention, too, you know. You linger in my thoughts, like a lover’s scent clinging to a pillow after their departure.
[Not that either of them are taking lovers anymore, but perhaps Cardan enjoys this phenomenon in the evenings when he wakes… and Liem is not there.]
[ Liem's easy acquiescence is pleasant, but not in itself conclusive -- after all, it would only be polite of him to tell Cardan the thing he wants to hear. The smile, though-- that is worth Cardan's doubts. And when Liem folds himself into place beside him, Cardan will slide an arm around his shoulders and lean in to brush warm breath over his ear. ]
Oh? And what are those thoughts like, Liem?
[ It's a beguiling turn of phrase, really -- because Liem is right, of course. Because every so often Cardan does indeed roll over and bury his face in the pillows, breathing in. In the week or so when Liem decided to stop fucking him, he'd sometimes take himself in hand right then, just to take the sharpest edge off of his longing.
He breathes Liem in now, with the scent of winter on his hair and skin, and feels the warm prickle of that same longing settle at the nape of his neck. His mouth doesn't quite touch Liem's skin, even as he watches him work on his own skates, his dexterity apparently unimpeded by the chill. ]
I would hate to be a distraction to you...
[ He waits here, as long as he possibly can, his breath held for a heartbeat, and another-- ]
[The arm about Liem’s shoulders and the warm presence at his side are welcome companions to the cool kiss of winter’s breeze on his cheeks. He leans ever so slightly into the contact, pleased by his husband’s nearness even as he dutifully keeps the sharp steel skates he’s fitting on away from Cardan’s person.
His husband is, he thinks, probably hoping for salacious flirtation. Certainly that is where the hot breath brushing his ear brings Liem’s thoughts, even in this snowy gazebo, bundled up in winterwear. And when Cardan is with him in his office, it is often the same: his husband has a talent for making Liem wish he was putting his hands all over him instead of looking over schedules and tallying budgets. But he thinks Cardan knows this already.]
When we are at parties, and you are occupied with others, I am often thinking of how I would like to steal you away. Of how I would like you to occupy yourself with me instead.
[As he had, just the once, on the night of the assassination attempt.]
But in the afternoons, before you join me for the night… I am most often wishing I was still abed with you.
As am I, [ murmurs Cardan, a little pointedly. After all, he is the one who stays in bed; every so often, Liem could probably do the same, fulfilling their mutual wishes. Besides, unlike Cardan's newly recovered self, his husband could still use more sleep. ]
But then what would become of your precious calisthenics?
[ He knows vaguely, by now, what Liem's evening routine consists of, though he has never seen him attend to it in person. Sometimes he wonders what Liem looks like when he's exercising -- if he is as punishingly precise about his athletics as he is about his dancing. It's difficult to imagine it; he has never seen Liem fight save for one time, and he would rather blot that night out of his memory altogether.
Briefly, he does press his mouth to the delicate shell of Liem's ear before pulling back to eye him. Part of him is curious about how they're supposed to make their way down to the actual ice with blades strapped to their boots, but-- Liem seems sure of what he's doing, so he doesn't ask. ]
...we could start pretending to quarrel, then leave the party early. The blood orgies are hardly riveting, anyway.
[ After a dozen or so times, it's all the same, isn't it? He can't even say he finds it particularly disturbing anymore. ]
[Liem is forced to acknowledge every single day that the prospect of stealing another hour in bed with his husband is far more appealing than doing drills or sparring with the house weaponsmaster. If he had not already built this habit over years of dedicated repetition, he’s sure the lure of his husband’s warm, sleepy form wrapped around him would make a shambles of his orderly routine.
But if both of them scorned swordplay to indulge in softer, sweeter pleasures, who then would keep them both safe?]
What would we quarrel about, husband?
[He sounds curious more than anything, as he straightens from his boots to look slyly at his spouse. Cardan is right, of course; there is nothing exciting about attending a blood orgy when he is not intending to partake, especially when the two of them continue to avoid displaying too much affection in public. Gossip and voyeurism are only interesting for so long.
He will not bother to do up the bag before slinging it again over one shoulder, given that they will need to deposit their skate guards into it once they reach the river regardless. For now he gets back to his feet and turns to hold his hands out to his husband—something that seems to give him no more trouble than usual despite the balancing act it now involves.]
Should I be playing the villain? Getting jealous of the way you choose to spend your time?
[ Cardan eyes Liem rising with a dubious eyebrow -- but his husband seems to be perfectly unimpeded. Still, he will take Liem's hands without hesitation. He doesn't assume he'll need the help; he's, at the very least, confident that anything Liem will do with his feet will be easy for him. But it is lovely to hold Liem's hands, and lovely to be fussed over. As ever, he cannot help but be charmed when Liem plays the role of the dashing suitor on their outings.
Standing feels odd. He glances down at his feet, thoughtfully, flexing his toes as he shifts his weight. He doesn't feel as unsteady as he'd expected; then again, they are not on the ice yet. ]
I do enjoy your villainous side, [ he will admit, glancing back up to his husband's face. One gloved hand releases Liem's to slide down his flank, curling over his waist. Cardan steps closer to him, experimentally, feeling out his boots-turned-skates. ]
Though I enjoy it more when you turn it elsewhere. I don't make for a credible victim, besides.
[ It's the smugness and snark. Hardly anyone in their right mind would feel sorry for Cardan, which is, all in all, just how he likes it. ]
[Despite Liem’s eagerness to reach the river, he doesn’t hurry at all to pull away from his husband’s wandering touch. The hand that Cardan releases finds its way to his jaw, gloved fingertips gently skimming his cheek as Liem regards him with fond interest.
Despite the skates’ unfamiliarity, they don’t seem to faze Cardan at all. It only makes him more curious to see his husband on the ice; he hopes, when they get there, he might get to see another one of Cardan’s more delighted smiles.]
Then we will need to quarrel about something else, [he muses lightly. His leather-clad thumb traces an idle path over Cardan’s lower lip.] It wouldn’t do for our argument to seem contrived.
[But he has no wish to quarrel with his husband now. If anything, he would rather snuggle in for an impromptu cuddle—and because he lacks any little voice warning him that a chilly gazebo might not be his husband’s preferred place for such a thing, he indulges, stepping into Cardan’s space to fit himself close and trail his nose playfully along the line of his jaw.]
[ Liem is cold -- but it's not like that's news to Cardan. He is well-accustomed to the transit of cool hands and lips over his skin. It has become challenging at times, especially once the grey damp and blistering chill of winter had taken hold -- and, of course, after his apparent illness had taken his ability to keep himself warm.
But he is not ill now, and he's been bundled in furs and heavy sweaters besides. If he holds back a shiver when Liem tucks himself against him, it's overridden by the thrill of having him close. A nonsensical feeling: do they not spend every day and a good portion of each night pressed up against each other? Perhaps it's just the romance of the snowy, clear night.
Perhaps it's that Cardan is a besotted fool.
Either way, he only takes the opportunity to wrap his arm more snugly around Liem, tipping his chin up to offer up the warm skin over his pulse point. It's a bit of a bluff -- Liem is very cold -- but he's not entirely sure which one of them he's challenging.
He'd rather be tempting than be comfortable, at any rate. ]
You could accuse me of being too handsome and skilled in the arts of love, [ he suggests. ]
Or of cheating at cards -- although, on second thought, that would give away that I've been cheating at cards.
[Liem’s soft chuckle gusts cool, wintery air against the exposed skin of Cardan’s neck, even as he hooks his fingers into his husband’s furry lapel, clutching him close so he’ll remain right where Liem desires. His husband comes up with such novel things to quarrel about; he cannot imagine being sour about having an especially handsome, skilled lover.]
Only an ungrateful oaf would complain about the former. The latter is at least believable to those who know I don’t care to be cheated.
[Except lately, at least when Cardan does it, it seems mischievous and roguish instead of dishonest and irritating. This, however, is something his acquaintances at their various parties do not need to know, and would have no reason to expect.
But although his mischievous spouse likely deserves a cold nose pressed against his neck, Liem only brushes his lips lightly against his pulse, there and gone again, before leaning back to look up at him.]
But we have no shortage of time to consider the puzzle. Come—the river awaits us.
[ The hold on his collar is certainly suspicious -- he braces himself for the attack he himself invited, and then... only shivers, lightly, at the transit of soft lips over his skin. As with every time Liem has ever touched his throat, he wants more; it is forever frustrating that he cannot have it.
Still, it seems like he has been spared one frozen trial only to face another. Well, so be it: there is no reason to be concerned about a little bit of fun, even if it is over slippery ice atop a deep river. Even if the thought fills him with a strange bit of unease.
He doesn't really want to pull away, except: how is he supposed to deny Liem anything when he seems so uncommonly enthused about it? Still, Cardan will steal another kiss before he straightens out. ]
How often do you do this? [ he asks, even as he steps away -- frowning again at the strange feeling, as if walking on stilts. His shoulders are squared in the way one might expect from a man going into battle. His hand remains clasped in Liem's, however, stubbornly reluctant to let him go.
He doesn't think Liem has had much time to skate since Cardan has arrived in Ironside. And, given how often he has to be the one to coax his spouse into taking a break, he cannot imagine Liem taking said time with any regularity. ]
[As frequently seems to be the case when he is with Cardan, Liem denies himself one small pleasure, keeping the brush of his mouth light over his husband’s neck, and is promptly rewarded with another indulgence to take its place. His husband’s lack of patience is a boon when what it means is warm, impatient kisses stolen in between other activities. Liem keeps his hold on Cardan’s collar for another moment, indulging a pleased, possessive feeling about the devastatingly handsome man in his clutches, before finally stepping back so they can continue on their way to the river.
But he obviously continues to hold onto Cardan’s hand.]
Not recently, of course—but every so often, when I’ve the time to get out of the house.
[His tread down the gentle slope to the river is a little slower than before, at least in part to avoid hurrying his spouse, but he nonetheless seems eager to reach the ice, his eyes pulled to the river’s pale, beckoning surface. It has been almost a year since he had the chance to go skating, and far too long since he had occasion to do so with company.]
It’s a lovely way to travel into the forest, if you’re going on foot. And novel, as well.
[When else does he get to see the forest from on the river, instead of alongside it?]
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no subject
We should have done this long before now. I keep forgetting that I must acquaint you with proper winters.
[His observation is wistful, even as they tromp their way through the snowy landscape. He has found far less time than he’d like to indulge his desires for his husband—particularly of his own accord, which brings a brief frown to his face. It does not sit right with him that Cardan should so often be the one responsible for insisting they steal some time for themselves. The thought that his husband might think him content to leave Cardan to his own devices unless he demands Liem’s attention makes his chest tighten a little for the first time in days.
He glances over at his spouse, his expression a little wry.]
Also, I do not often have the opportunity to introduce you to things you will enjoy.
no subject
Liem's comment only deepens the feeling. His husband is right: they should have gone out more. Perhaps Cardan should have pushed more for it. But he had been tired, and so consumed with other matters--
Well, there is no use ruing something that's past. He cuts the thought off, decisively, and elects to raise an eyebrow at Liem instead. ]
You seem confident.
[ He's probably right. Cardan doesn't know whether he'd enjoy skating on its own, but it's rare for Liem to show him things he likes, and that in itself is bound to be a pleasure. For all that they spend almost every waking hour together, he yet feels like there are parts of his husband's life he knows precious little about. ]
Did you learn this before or after you learned to climb trees?
no subject
Why shouldn’t he be? His husband will enjoy the snow and the forest and the chance to be away from the house, if nothing else. And he will enjoy having Liem’s undivided attention, which is rare enough during their nights. But mostly, Liem thinks he will enjoy it because it seems like the sort of thing his husband would have liked, if he had hailed from a land with winter ice.
Cardan’s hand feels pleasingly solid in his as they walk along the slope, boots whispering through the powdery snow layered over the landscape. The change of scenery seems immediately to have brightened his mood; when he steals another glance at his husband, the warm contentment curling up inside him is visible in his regard.]
You know, I'm not certain.
[He contemplates this question for a moment, trying to remember if there was a certain age he’d learned— well, either activity, really. All he can say for certain is that it must have been before his mother’s death, because he’s sure he recalls skating with her at least once.]
When I was small, certainly. But perhaps it was before; certainly I would have skated more often then I ever climbed trees, especially when I was much younger.
no subject
Cardan grins. ]
I climbed trees often, as a child.
[ The grin widens, unrepentant. ]
...mostly so I could drag other children out of them.
[ He doesn't like reminiscing about his childhood -- when he was more feral foundling than boy, treated by all as an unruly pet. But the terror he visited upon other children, at least, he'd always found warranted: a good number had been larger and older than him, and far too impertinent towards a prince. He had only taught them a valuable lesson in politics. ]
But I cannot say I have ever skated. [ He glances over at the river, keeping his tone unconcerned. ] How do you know the ice won't break?
no subject
I would not have known what to do with you when I was small.
[He says this dryly, and without embarrassment. It is plainly obvious to him, after all, not least of all because he barely knows what to do with Cardan now.
The broad, flat stretch of frozen-over river beckons as they near it, clear blue ice dusted with powdery snow. A short distance away is a gazebo that makes for a pleasant reading spot in the warm months; presently, the snow-free interior makes for a convenient place to put on their skates, so he turns them towards it.]
At this time of year, the ice should be too thick. Especially given how cold it was for the first couple of weeks after we returned.
[No wonder Cardan had been ailing with his anemia. Supposedly it was quite cold while they were away, as well, but obviously there was still plenty of winter’s bitter chill left to welcome them back.]
no subject
And anyway, there are better topics of conversation. His gaze slides back to Liem, one brow arched. ]
I would have eaten you alive when you were small.
[ Even if Liem was supernaturally durable, and older -- what chance would he have stood against the sheer weight Cardan's fury? He may not have had tutors in writing or history, but he'd certainly received ample lessons on getting his way. ]
No one knew what to do with me. I was quite liberal with my teeth, and wholly unfettered by decorum.
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Liem’s lips twitch, and he slides a sidelong glance at his spouse.]
And this is different from how you are now?
[Has his husband not already eaten him alive on multiple occasions since their wedding? Does he not still possess a marked fondness for biting, and seem to view decorum as largely optional? This has certainly been Liem’s impression, and one that has held strong over the last half a year.
The gazebo looms prettily ahead, and he brings them into it, shrugging the bag from his shoulder so he can set it down on the lightly snow-dusted wood. He kneels, already pulling the bag open.]
Sit, your Highness, and I will attend to your boots.
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I have not bitten anyone else, have I?
[ His teeth flash at Liem, mock-threatening. ]
Yet.
[ Nor has he plans to; everyone except Gusairne is liable to enjoy it too much, and Cardan would rather stuff his mouth with ash than put it on the surly seneschal's skin.
Anyway, now is not the time to think about the world's most accomplished thief of joy. Liem offers to handle his boots, and so Cardan will smile dazzlingly down at him as he folds himself onto a bench covered with snow as light as icing sugar. He proffers his boot to Liem with characteristically royal arrogance. ]
What a pleasure. I see you like this too rarely.
[ Usually it's Cardan, after all, who is doing the kneeling. ]
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Despite his husband’s menace and arrogance, the grasp with which Liem takes the proffered foot is tender. Dusting loose snow from the leather, he reaches for the first skate as he aims a quiet, almost secretive smile up at his spouse.]
Well, it wouldn’t do for me to spend all my time on my knees.
[His gaze returns to his task, though his attention is manifestly still on Cardan, even as he works to affix the skate firmly to his boot. Playfulness still flirts with his expression, even if his hands remain deliberate. Like the dusting of fresh snow, his tone is dry and light.]
What if you became spoiled?
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But it still doesn't matter, when Liem's face alights with rare mischief. Cardan should be far past the point of butterflies -- let alone ones prompted by such banal things as Liem's careful grip on his ankle. He cannot even blame the little piece of his husband inside of him for that one; for all that Liem has plenty of endearing traits, "blushing virgin" has never been one of them.
Liem's question makes him huff out a plume of warm air, and then sink back dramatically against the gazebo railing. ]
Alas, I fear your caution is belated, [ he informs Liem, mournfully, though his black gaze is evaluating. The idea of Liem on his knees all the time is oddly intoxicating for its clear impossibility; he turns it over in his thoughts, unable to dismiss the image. If it speeds his pulse, well, Liem should be used to that by now. ]
Besides, you have wed a prince. Being spoiled rotten is but part of my care and feeding.
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Particularly considering the ever-intriguing effect his touch so often seems to have on Cardan’s pulse.]
Is it? I hope I haven’t been neglectful…
[As he murmurs this, half-thoughtful, his gloved hand slides up Cardan’s ankle and along the underside of his calf, wandering with idle interest up his leg as he meets his husband’s black, considering gaze. Surely it won’t do for him to fall short in his spousal duties….?
But he only sets the leg down gently and retrieves his other boot, so he might affix the skate to that one as well. Deliberate, still, even if Cardan’s pulse is still thudding enticingly in his ears.]
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Actually, he will. Why shouldn't he? His gloved fingers find Liem's jaw, curl around his chin -- to hold him there when Cardan leans down to steal a kiss. If his husband is going to be sly with him, then the least he could do is pay Cardan's toll.
He stays there, for a moment, his mouth curling in a smug little grin. ]
I don't know, Liem.
How rotten would you say I am?
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Fortunately, Liem sees no reason not to lean up and kiss him again, so he can trace the sultry curve of that lower lip with his tongue.]
Personally, I find you delectable.
[Does this mean he hasn’t been doing his due diligence in caring for his husband? He thinks perhaps it does, and though he doubts that any amount of spoiling will succeed in changing his mind, he is not averse to applying himself more thoroughly to this task.
Even though he is still intent on dragging Cardan out onto the ice, and even though his hands are still busy fitting the skate to his husband’s other boot.]
How do you prefer to be spoiled, husband?
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Liem's question is one he probably should have an answer to, given both his aptitude for excesses and his royal heritage, and yet-- what can he tell his husband? That he wants him to quit departing for the office each afternoon before Cardan is even awake? That he would prefer it if Liem worked less hard for his own -- and Cardan's -- safety? For so much of his life, Cardan has gotten everything he'd asked for, except the things he had truly wanted. His marriage is no different, and he cannot even blame anyone but himself for the problem.
Even wanting those things is unaccountably greedy.
Thankfully, what he lacks in temperance, he more than makes up for in shamelessness. ]
I want your attention, [ is what he tells Liem, his gaze half-lidded on his husband's face. He hasn't let go of him yet, though he will pull back a little to sit up. There is something a little imperious in his face. ]
Incessantly. Unfailingly.
Perhaps I want to be your favourite.
[ That's not even an outrageous demand, considering Liem has voiced much the same. ]
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But that is why they are out here now, taking a break from work on Cardan’s request, so he might pay his husband the attention he desires. Liem tips his head as he returns his husband’s regard, leaning into the touch of the gloved hand in his hair.]
How fortunate for you, then, that you already are.
[Cardan had implied that there could be no other he preferred as much as Liem, but the reverse is unambiguously true; of all the handsome, wicked, alluring aristocrats he must contend with at every lavish event, only his imperious royal husband is so skilled at coaxing smiles from him, even when he has no intention of parting with them.
He parts with one now, as he gives the fastenings of Cardan’s skate one last tug and then picks himself up to sit on the bench next to his spouse.]
You already have my attention, too, you know. You linger in my thoughts, like a lover’s scent clinging to a pillow after their departure.
[Not that either of them are taking lovers anymore, but perhaps Cardan enjoys this phenomenon in the evenings when he wakes… and Liem is not there.]
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Oh? And what are those thoughts like, Liem?
[ It's a beguiling turn of phrase, really -- because Liem is right, of course. Because every so often Cardan does indeed roll over and bury his face in the pillows, breathing in. In the week or so when Liem decided to stop fucking him, he'd sometimes take himself in hand right then, just to take the sharpest edge off of his longing.
He breathes Liem in now, with the scent of winter on his hair and skin, and feels the warm prickle of that same longing settle at the nape of his neck. His mouth doesn't quite touch Liem's skin, even as he watches him work on his own skates, his dexterity apparently unimpeded by the chill. ]
I would hate to be a distraction to you...
[ He waits here, as long as he possibly can, his breath held for a heartbeat, and another-- ]
...unknowingly.
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His husband is, he thinks, probably hoping for salacious flirtation. Certainly that is where the hot breath brushing his ear brings Liem’s thoughts, even in this snowy gazebo, bundled up in winterwear. And when Cardan is with him in his office, it is often the same: his husband has a talent for making Liem wish he was putting his hands all over him instead of looking over schedules and tallying budgets. But he thinks Cardan knows this already.]
When we are at parties, and you are occupied with others, I am often thinking of how I would like to steal you away. Of how I would like you to occupy yourself with me instead.
[As he had, just the once, on the night of the assassination attempt.]
But in the afternoons, before you join me for the night… I am most often wishing I was still abed with you.
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But then what would become of your precious calisthenics?
[ He knows vaguely, by now, what Liem's evening routine consists of, though he has never seen him attend to it in person. Sometimes he wonders what Liem looks like when he's exercising -- if he is as punishingly precise about his athletics as he is about his dancing. It's difficult to imagine it; he has never seen Liem fight save for one time, and he would rather blot that night out of his memory altogether.
Briefly, he does press his mouth to the delicate shell of Liem's ear before pulling back to eye him. Part of him is curious about how they're supposed to make their way down to the actual ice with blades strapped to their boots, but-- Liem seems sure of what he's doing, so he doesn't ask. ]
...we could start pretending to quarrel, then leave the party early. The blood orgies are hardly riveting, anyway.
[ After a dozen or so times, it's all the same, isn't it? He can't even say he finds it particularly disturbing anymore. ]
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But if both of them scorned swordplay to indulge in softer, sweeter pleasures, who then would keep them both safe?]
What would we quarrel about, husband?
[He sounds curious more than anything, as he straightens from his boots to look slyly at his spouse. Cardan is right, of course; there is nothing exciting about attending a blood orgy when he is not intending to partake, especially when the two of them continue to avoid displaying too much affection in public. Gossip and voyeurism are only interesting for so long.
He will not bother to do up the bag before slinging it again over one shoulder, given that they will need to deposit their skate guards into it once they reach the river regardless. For now he gets back to his feet and turns to hold his hands out to his husband—something that seems to give him no more trouble than usual despite the balancing act it now involves.]
Should I be playing the villain? Getting jealous of the way you choose to spend your time?
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Standing feels odd. He glances down at his feet, thoughtfully, flexing his toes as he shifts his weight. He doesn't feel as unsteady as he'd expected; then again, they are not on the ice yet. ]
I do enjoy your villainous side, [ he will admit, glancing back up to his husband's face. One gloved hand releases Liem's to slide down his flank, curling over his waist. Cardan steps closer to him, experimentally, feeling out his boots-turned-skates. ]
Though I enjoy it more when you turn it elsewhere. I don't make for a credible victim, besides.
[ It's the smugness and snark. Hardly anyone in their right mind would feel sorry for Cardan, which is, all in all, just how he likes it. ]
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Despite the skates’ unfamiliarity, they don’t seem to faze Cardan at all. It only makes him more curious to see his husband on the ice; he hopes, when they get there, he might get to see another one of Cardan’s more delighted smiles.]
Then we will need to quarrel about something else, [he muses lightly. His leather-clad thumb traces an idle path over Cardan’s lower lip.] It wouldn’t do for our argument to seem contrived.
[But he has no wish to quarrel with his husband now. If anything, he would rather snuggle in for an impromptu cuddle—and because he lacks any little voice warning him that a chilly gazebo might not be his husband’s preferred place for such a thing, he indulges, stepping into Cardan’s space to fit himself close and trail his nose playfully along the line of his jaw.]
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But he is not ill now, and he's been bundled in furs and heavy sweaters besides. If he holds back a shiver when Liem tucks himself against him, it's overridden by the thrill of having him close. A nonsensical feeling: do they not spend every day and a good portion of each night pressed up against each other? Perhaps it's just the romance of the snowy, clear night.
Perhaps it's that Cardan is a besotted fool.
Either way, he only takes the opportunity to wrap his arm more snugly around Liem, tipping his chin up to offer up the warm skin over his pulse point. It's a bit of a bluff -- Liem is very cold -- but he's not entirely sure which one of them he's challenging.
He'd rather be tempting than be comfortable, at any rate. ]
You could accuse me of being too handsome and skilled in the arts of love, [ he suggests. ]
Or of cheating at cards -- although, on second thought, that would give away that I've been cheating at cards.
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Only an ungrateful oaf would complain about the former. The latter is at least believable to those who know I don’t care to be cheated.
[Except lately, at least when Cardan does it, it seems mischievous and roguish instead of dishonest and irritating. This, however, is something his acquaintances at their various parties do not need to know, and would have no reason to expect.
But although his mischievous spouse likely deserves a cold nose pressed against his neck, Liem only brushes his lips lightly against his pulse, there and gone again, before leaning back to look up at him.]
But we have no shortage of time to consider the puzzle. Come—the river awaits us.
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Still, it seems like he has been spared one frozen trial only to face another. Well, so be it: there is no reason to be concerned about a little bit of fun, even if it is over slippery ice atop a deep river. Even if the thought fills him with a strange bit of unease.
He doesn't really want to pull away, except: how is he supposed to deny Liem anything when he seems so uncommonly enthused about it? Still, Cardan will steal another kiss before he straightens out. ]
How often do you do this? [ he asks, even as he steps away -- frowning again at the strange feeling, as if walking on stilts. His shoulders are squared in the way one might expect from a man going into battle. His hand remains clasped in Liem's, however, stubbornly reluctant to let him go.
He doesn't think Liem has had much time to skate since Cardan has arrived in Ironside. And, given how often he has to be the one to coax his spouse into taking a break, he cannot imagine Liem taking said time with any regularity. ]
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But he obviously continues to hold onto Cardan’s hand.]
Not recently, of course—but every so often, when I’ve the time to get out of the house.
[His tread down the gentle slope to the river is a little slower than before, at least in part to avoid hurrying his spouse, but he nonetheless seems eager to reach the ice, his eyes pulled to the river’s pale, beckoning surface. It has been almost a year since he had the chance to go skating, and far too long since he had occasion to do so with company.]
It’s a lovely way to travel into the forest, if you’re going on foot. And novel, as well.
[When else does he get to see the forest from on the river, instead of alongside it?]
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