Gritting his teeth, Arthur reined his horse in sharply and rode to the rescue of the lone survivor of their ill-fated battle party. He called out a warning to the rogue, who managed to scramble up behind him as the charger thundered by, knocking injured goblins out of the way.
The other man held on to both his rescuer and the Crown of Ebon Nights, recently plucked from the bloody head of the naga queen they just defeated, and barely managed to get out a breathless thanks.
"I wasn't trying to save you, thief," Arthur snapped back over his shoulder, feeling his face turn red. "I just need that crown for the bounty."
"Ever the knight in shining armor." The tone was gently mocking and grating as well.
But Arthur had no energy left to argue, just enough to guide his horse towards the city where a fabulous reward supposedly awaited. It better be worth it, he thought grimly as they galloped out of the haunted forest.
After they had traveled for some distance, the rogue leaned forward, so that their cheeks almost brushed and his long hair tickled the side of Arthur's face.
"Arthur, we need to stop."
"What? Why?" They were almost to the city, and he couldn't wait?
"Because I'm about to fall off and take you down with me." The too-bright eyes staring back at him were serious, and this close, Arthur could see just how deathly pale he looked.
"Why didn't you-?" Arthur cursed under his breath as he tried to maneuver his gallant steed off the road and into a clearing with one hand, the other hand occupied with holding tightly onto the arm with the crown in its grasp, just to make sure they didn't lose their prize as well.
It was a bit awkward, but they managed to dismount without either one falling over too much. As the rogue sat down against a tree, Arthur knelt beside him, making a soft noise of concern as he inspected the wound.
"Ye gods… you could have told me you were injured sooner than this."
"Ah… I didn't feel it until now."
Arthur barely refrained from rolling his eyes. While the wound slashing across the abdomen looked fairly shallow, it had been bleeding profusely during the harrowing escape. Luckily, the monsters around here did not carry poisoned weapons, and healing this was not beyond his paladin's training.
"Take off your shirt," he commanded, "and I'll see what I can do."
"My name is Francis, you recall? I believe you were the one who hired me for this quest," the rogue said petulantly as he took off his cloak and tunic, careful to not aggravate the injury any further. "It would not violate your precious honor to treat me as a human being once in a while."
Arthur glared at him, equally irritated by the fact that Francis never addressed him with the proper "ser", but he said nothing as he retrieved the standard issue medicine pack from a saddlebag.
"Here, drink this… Francis."
Francis took the vial with a trembling hand and sipped the liquid with caution, then promptly passed out, luckily falling onto his uninjured side.
"Finally…" Arthur muttered, as he opened the pack and pulled out a needle and thread.
When Francis woke, the sun had set and the cool night air smelled refreshingly free of monster corpses. He sat up and found himself dressed once more, the wound cleaned, stitched and bandaged neatly.
"I thought you were going to use your white magic," he complained, somewhat disappointed at this unromantic result. "You just knocked me out with a potion and then did something barbaric to my beautiful self. How could you, and claiming to be a holy knight?"
"Would you prefer me to let you bleed to death instead?" Arthur scoffed, trying to not sound as hurt as he really felt. He would not admit that he actually did use one minor spell on the rogue, the one to keep infection at bay - it was hardly worth mentioning, especially now that Francis opened his ungrateful mouth.
Looking around the makeshift camp, Francis could not help but notice that Arthur had pried the crown out of his fingers while he was unconscious and hidden it somewhere in the saddlebags. That bastard, hardly as noble as he claimed to be. But it would be easy to steal the treasure back once they reached the city, and he knew of a few black markets that would pay just as handsomely as a king for such a relic.
"I hope you weren't entertaining any ideas of stabbing me in my sleep and running away with the crown, Francis," Arthur's voice interrupted sternly. "The Order of the White Rose has a way of finding these things out, and I know they have very effective methods of extracting confession before you beg them to kill you out of mercy."
"Ah, I suppose I wouldn't make it far in my condition, anyway," Francis answered, tossing his hair. Very well, if the little ruffian wanted to be like that, then he should be prepared to suffer until they received their reward.
Finally, after attending to his horse and setting up the necessary wards and charms around the clearing, Arthur set his cloak and blanket down a little distance away from where Francis was sitting. The rogue smiled to himself as the other man tried to make a night on the hard earth more comfortable, looking just like a page boy in his plain undershirt and leggings. Without his armor and horse and sword, he seemed so small, and it was hard to believe that he owed his life to such a newly blessed young paladin.
Arthur noticed Francis watching him intently, and he frowned in disapproval.
"Get to sleep, we have a long day tomorrow."
"I just woke up, I can't go back to sleep now."
"Oh… right… Well, don't try anything funny, I might forget the paladin's code and strike you in self-defense."
Francis smiled again, dazzling as ever even in the dark. "Sleep well, my knight."
Blushing, Arthur turned away, pulling his cloak up and trying to still his treacherously racing heart.
The next morning, he woke up feeling a little sore but well-rested. He looked up to see Francis stirring something in a pot that smelled incredibly delicious.
"Good morning~!" Francis was not wearing a shirt, and the curly ends of his hair shone wetly in the sun – he must have just bathed. Arthur was pleased to see the bandages still white and pristine, it seemed that the rogue healed quickly.
"What are you making?" he asked, to distract himself from staring at Francis too long.
"Fish soup."
"How did-? Do you catch fish with your bare hands?" He knew he didn't have any fishing equipment, and he had no idea he had a pot either, but then again, Francis might have taken it from the soldiers in their party (may their souls rejoice forever in Valhalla.)
"Full of questions today, aren't we?" Francis grinned at him and then gestured towards where the river presumably lay. "You should go wash up, and we can eat and then get our reward."
Well, Arthur supposed he did smell a little pungent after yesterday's battle, so it would not hurt to clean up before calling on the members of the court.
Arthur thoroughly regretted that decision sometime later, as he stood shivering in the river, with Francis sitting on an outcropping section of the riverbank, smirking at him.
"Give me my clothes back, Francis. Please." He did not want to expose himself, but he had no idea where that blasted thief hid his clothes. The most embarrassing impasse ever.
The thief in question trailed a finger into the water, chuckling.
"Come here, my knight. I will make a bargain with you."
"What?" Arthur exploded, almost stomping his foot before he remembered that he was standing waist deep in a river with slippery mud. There was nothing to bargain about! "Just give me my clothes, you!"
Francis looked away stubbornly, and Arthur realized he had to give in or else die of pneumonia. He waded over to where Francis was sitting, the water still deep enough to preserve some modesty.
"All right… what do you want?" he grumbled, restraining himself from punching that smirk right off his pretty face. Francis looked like he was enjoying the sight before him way too much.
"Hmm… I think you owe me an apology for treating me so terribly when you needed me to steal the crown of the naga queen."
"I am sorry. I behaved most ignobly to you." Arthur hoped that was all, but then he found himself pulled in closer so that he was face to face with Francis.
"I am not convinced of your sincerity, Arthur. Give me a kiss and I will reconsider."
Bright red with humiliation, Arthur leaned forward and gave him a quick peck on the cheek, but Francis only laughed.
"That would hardly get you your boots back, my knight! Try again."
Arthur closed his eyes, but before he could muster up the courage for a proper kiss, Francis had already returned it. Unprepared, Arthur felt a surge of white-hot pleasure running throughout his body and he whimpered at the heady sensation of a strange mouth against his, almost thankful for Francis' hands at his shoulders keeping him upright.
When they pulled apart, Arthur gasping for air and trembling all over, Francis murmured thoughtfully, "I guess that was tolerable."
"T-tolerable?"
But Francis had already gotten up to retrieve his clothes.
They argued over breakfast, Arthur's temper already unraveled from the incident at the river and Francis feeling somewhat affronted that Arthur was affronted. Then they argued over who was going to ride the very patient charger, Francis insisting that he could walk while Arthur refused to let him besmirch his honor any further.
The royal treasurer, a young nobleman by the name of Lord Basch, rolled his eyes at the still bickering duo before him - a young White Rose paladin somehow partnering with one of the most notorious thieves in the land. It was a miracle only three of the king's foot soldiers died on the quest and not, say, any innocent bystanders. Seeing this type of conflict before, the treasurer divided the gold and jewels in half and handed each a bag.
"Settle it amongst yourselves later, no more fighting here. This is most unbecoming."
He thought he could escape without being noticed, but the paladin seemed to have read his intentions and Francis was dragged back into their current base of operations (tonight, a room at the Frothing Otter inn.)
"You left your half of the treasure behind! What kind of thief are you?"
"I don't need it…" Francis replied nonchalantly, leaning back against the door.
"You don't need gold?" Arthur stared at him as if he had gone stark raving mad. "Then… well, I don't care, you're taking this, whether you need it or not!" He pushed the bag into Francis' hands stubbornly, but the rogue did not take it.
"I already got what I wanted, Arthur. You take my half and donate it to some orphanage, do whatever you want."
Green eyes looked up into his, confused and hurt and still a little angry. "But this is my payment for your services… I don't want to owe you."
"You have already paid me back in full, even if it was not in gold."
Francis brought his hand under the other's chin and then kissed him once more, sweet and chaste. "Farewell, my knight," he whispered.
But before he could open the door to leave in a dramatic fashion, a heavy bag of gold coins dropped onto his foot and he yelped in pain. Arthur took advantage of this and grabbed him by the hair, kissing him back fiercely.
"Don't leave me, Francis. You… you've cast a spell on me." Even though the knight was blushing again, his gaze was direct and unashamed. "And I am yours," he murmured, sounding a little incredulous at the words coming out of his mouth.
Ever so gently, Francis wrapped his arms around Arthur's shoulders, and they stood like that in silence, feeling the other's heart beating strong and sure.
No, Francis had cast no spell upon him, nothing more extraordinary than the act of simply falling in love. But he thought it was extraordinary enough.
"Is this truly all right, Arthur?" Francis asked quietly, sounding amused at their current situation. A thief and infamous scoundrel, lying in bed with a holy knight of the noblest order – even he would have never imagined this. (Well, perhaps he imagined it once or twice before, but that was mostly after he had drunk too much wine and usually by then his dreams included anyone and everyone, so it wasn't actually very unusual.)
Arthur looked up at him, heavy brows drawn together in consternation. "Of course it's all right! If by that, you mean… no, the order… does not have any vows against… this," he finished lamely, embarrassed but eager to continue.
"If you are sure…"
"I am definitely sure. I want to be with you, Francis, and no one else," Arthur whispered, desire evident in his tone.
Unable to resist, Francis kissed that delightful mouth yet again, for he thought he could never kiss it enough. He had always had unusually good luck, since it went with the profession, but to taste Arthur's innocent lips and tongue, to be the first to take him, he believed it was the greatest stroke of fortune yet.
"Do you know how beautiful you are?" Arthur murmured, as he ran his fingers through the other's sun-kissed hair, marveling at this new and wonderful feeling that made his chest ache in a pleasing way. "I have never seen anyone as beautiful as you, Francis."
"I know it," Francis replied with another brilliant smile. It did not escape his observant eyes, the paladin's quickly smothered star-struck look when he first arrived at the inn to take the job. "But you are beautiful as well, Arthur, my very own angel." And he truly was, slim but well-muscled, with pale skin and golden hair and eyes a most mesmerizing shade of green, like those of a holy seraphim come to earth.
Arthur laughed at that, shaking his head in disbelief at the rogue's audacity. "That may work on a serving wench, but not on me. Kiss me again?" he pleaded, so invitingly.
"Of course, love." Francis followed the kiss on the lips with one on the throat, then more trailing down Arthur's chest, his hands tracing over faint scars across the ribs and down lean thighs. Underneath him, Arthur made soft noises of pleasure, wriggling helplessly as Francis flicked his tongue across a nipple with the lightest of touches.
"Ahhh… Francis… please…"
"Yes?" he murmured, now affectionately nibbling at a tender area on the hipbone.
"H-hurry up, you bastard. Or I'll strangle you, I will."
Even with that warning, Francis grinned and took his time preparing anyway, so that Arthur was almost ready to punch him in the stomach and re-open the wound. Or he would, if he could focus on something other than the clever fingers slowly stroking between his legs, sending wave after wave of ecstasy through his lower body. His mind shut down from the pleasure, Arthur was not able to even form the words to express his impatience and could only groan in overwhelming relief when he finally felt Francis enter him. Of course, Arthur was much too proud to admit the slightest hint of shock or pain at the strange sensation, and so he wrapped a leg around the other's waist, nodding encouragingly. For his knight's bravery, Francis leaned forward to reward him with another passionate kiss.
Alas, Francis would later regard it as the most painful act of deflowering he could ever remember because in the end, Arthur had to recite a healing spell for damage control, babbling his apologies, and then they both started crying (for different reasons), and things got extremely awkward.
After the two unlikely lovers calmed down from the accident and stopped crying, they returned to bed and curled up next to each other, sleepy and shy, yet very much content.
"You have stolen my heart, did you know that?"
"Would you like it back, love?"
"No, my heart belongs to you now."
"I will keep it safe, then, for mine belongs to you."
[Author's Note: I had been planning to write more in this AU, just never got around to it. I wrote this 2 years ago, so not my best work, but I enjoyed writing it. I hope you enjoyed reading!]