Damon placed a fitted black mask over his eyes and stared at himself in the mirror. He wore a dark flat hat decorated with a cunning red feather. He wore short doublets over hose. His jacket was red and wide cut with slits in the sleeves. He took the mask off and gave it to Jeremy.
"Elizabethan clothing doesn't suit my tastes," he said dryly, cocking his head to one side.
Jeremy stood beside him and fitted his jester's hat atop his head with a scowl.
"I don't know how you talked me into this," he muttered sadly.
"You talked yourself into it," Damon said with a smirk.
It was mere hours away from the ball and Damon was putting the finishing touches on his costume.
"Well it was this or a fairy. The decision was a tough one, but as you can see, I am sticking with the jester," Jeremy elbowed Damon.
"And what a lovely jester you are," Damon drawled.
They laughed together before lapsing into silence.
"I'm sorry," Jeremy said suddenly, softly.
Damon turned his face to Jeremy before looking at his reflection and readjusting his hat.
"For what?"
"Doubting you."
Damon shrugged.
"You don't have to apologize."
"I know I don't. But I want to."
"Then I accept your apology."
"Thanks."
Damon moved from the mirror and sat in his high back chair. Silence fills the room once more.
Prince Matthew was a man that was used to getting anything and everything that he wanted. That was the advantage of being royalty and he welcomed it with relish.
The last few months abroad had been dismal and relatively uneventful for him. Matthew fulfilled his diplomatic duties under pressure from his cabinet but he was clearly unhappy about it. It had been six months since he had been to Sofia. It had been six months since he had seen his sons, his friends and his lovers. Also, it had been six months since he had seen his wife. The last time Matthew saw Elena, she was very pregnant and on bed rest. She was swollen and with a belly ripe as fruit. In fact, he missed the birth of his daughter, Eudoxia. He had never even seen this child and had only received the royal announcement stating her birth. He was curious to look at her for many reasons. Born into royalty, he was voted into the position of Prince Regent in 1887 by the Grand National Assembly. Though his accession was met w/ trepidation and outrage, Matthew's reign had proved rather prosperous. In an effort to placate the cabinet by securing his dynasty, he married Elena in 1893. It was an obvious marriage of convenience to everyone but Elena.
She was a young, naïve, beautiful slip of a thing, he recalled. And for a brief time, he enjoyed the attention that she bestowed on him. But as it usually was with women, his mild affection wavered until there was nothing left but indifference. The fact that he succeeded in securing his heirs early on in their union pleased Matthew to no end. He considered his marriage a success. His boys were his legacy. His daughter? Perhaps, she would be the bargaining chip along the way towards reconciliation with a feuding country. He stood in his bedroom, dressing for his homecoming ball.
"Your Highness."
Matthew turned and stared down at Lord Tyler Lockwood as he knelt in reverence to royalty. His lips melted into a wry smile. Matthew nodded once and Tyler rose to his feet.
"Lord Lockwood," Matthew said coolly. "Tell me, how has my court fared in my absence? I trust you have kept a keen eye as I had hoped."
"As I deduced in my letters, we have much to discuss," Tyler said seriously.
Matthew took in the tone of Tyler's voice as he checked his costume in the mirror. His hair was shorn and the color of buckwheat on a sunny afternoon. He wore golden chest plate over a leather tunic. His boots were dark and reached to his knees. He was the picture of a blue-eyed Roman soldier. What a silly theme his wife had conjured. A Midsummer Night's Dream. But he knew she had gone through great lengths to please him and so he felt obligated by the eyes of the court to indulge her.
"In due time," he said calmly.
Lockwood nodded obediently.
"Of course, Your Highness."
Matthew turned suddenly and grabbed Tyler by his neck and pressed him roughly against the wall.
"In the mean time," Matthew said harshly, "get on your knees."
He crushed his mouth against Tyler's parted lips. His tongue wasted no time in delving inside, his mouth fusing against his with blatant familiarity. His hand slid up from Tyler's neck and grabbed a fist full of his hair. Matthew tore his mouth away, leaving Tyler gasping for air.
"Did you miss me," Matthew taunted.
His hips pressed forward into Tyler's pelvis, his hardness straining against the leather tunic.
"Yes," Tyler hissed.
"Good."
He pressed Tyler down on his knees with obvious dominance. Tyler's hands slid up Matthew's thighs and found him without undergarments. Tyler's breath caught in his throat as he grabbed Matthew, throbbing, into his hand. His other hand lifted the tunic and he bent his head forward. He flicked his tongue playfully over the tip Matthew's erection.
"Welcome home," Tyler purred.
Matthew pressed his hips forward and buried himself into Tyler's welcoming mouth. His fingers curled into the dark mass of Tyler's hair. His head fell back and he moaned low.
Welcome home, indeed.