LOREN
Engrossed as Loren was in the pages, he didn’t notice the other man’s entrance. Indeed, the summoner only looked up at Remi’s voice. The librarian braced himself for the pang of heartache that confronted him every time he thought about the alchemist, saw the other man, heard Remi’s voice, but strangely enough, it was muted, as if the old wound had started healing over. The Launceleyn would puzzle over that fact later; for now, he’d just be happy that he’d actually judged his emotions correctly for once, and that this visit wouldn’t be total agony. ”I’m not a duke anymore, so that kind of sets up back on the whole starting over front, doesn’t it?” Even Loren was surprised at how easily that came out, although there was the barest hints of tartness and annoyance, rather than teasing, in his tone.However, an idea occurred to the former duke, and he decided to pay the other man back for his mocking in a way that Loren just knew Remi would find terrible. ”You, on the other hand, are married to a king.” The Launceleyn’s voice wavered just a bit on the word married, but he covered it up by standing in a fluid motion and then bowing, deeper (if not more gracefully) than the alchemist had. ”So I should be the one thanking you for deigning to grace me with your presence, your highness.” Hopefully that should put a swift end to this nonsense about titles. And when it came to a battle of manners, Loren would win.
After all, once upon a time, imperfect manners would've gotten him tortured.
It was odd, how easily they fell into familiar habits, and yet how different it all actually was. Loren still found the other man attractive—maybe even more so, the way Remi had filled out yet still retained the qualities that had made him beautiful to begin with—but it was a dull and muted flame, not the burning passion it had once been. The Launceleyn had been clinging to the memory of the alchemist, not the real thing. The Launceleyn studied the other man almost curiously, taking in what had failed to register during their first meeting. The time apart, and the other reunions Loren had forced himself through, had given him a tiny bit of perspective and cleared his head just enough that he could admit that maybe, just maybe, he'd been more in love with the idea of Remi than the actual living, breathing man standing before him. Not that the librarian hadn't loved the man once, but neither of them were those people anymore. Trying to force them back to that shape would just hurt.
And Loren was tired of hurting, and of being sad. He'd done that for his whole life, after all, and more so this past year. But a few smiles had somehow inevitably crept in to his sad exterior and interior and he'd discovered, perhaps for the first time—and at least in a long time—that sometimes it was actually easier to be, if not happy, at least content.
A beggar's book
outworths
a noble's blood
