A/N/: Okay. So. I totally meant to do this on my last chapter, but I was so excited to get it up for the lovely Diby that I forgot. All of my fanfiction titles are really similar. Incandescence, Iridescent, Luminescent. Why, you may ask? They are adjectives to describe Erart's magnificent hair. Cause, why not?

Okay, so I do have to put a warning at the beginning of this chapter, because it needs it.

WARNING: This chapter contains content that may be highly sensitive to some viewers, that being the topic of suicide. Please read with discretion. I do NOT describe anything of that nature in detail. If you wish to skip this chapter because of the sensitive content, please PM me, and I will gladly summarize the chapter for you.

WARNING: This is your sexual content warning, as well. This chapter has much more graphic content than the last. This content is described in detail. You will probably see this warning often.

And without further ado, chapter two.

Erart

A laugh echoed through the halls of the Fordren palace. It was rich and deep and happy and full of the promise of devotion. Littler laughs, light and elevated and crystalline ones, followed the first. The laughter belonged to Prince Erart Avington and his dearest friend and fellow knight, Derin, whose fingers were intertwined as they made their way down the elegant halls.

"We mustn't be late, Derin," Erart said through his fading laughter. "Father will not be pleased with us at all."

Derin sent Erart a jokingly serious glare. "We wouldn't be running late in the first place had you not stopped ten times to- you know-"

Erart sent Derin a devilish grin before suddenly pressing him against the nearest wall, pinning his hands on either side of his head. The prince pressed his hips against Derin's and seized his lips into a kiss. Just as Derin had claimed, Erart had done this several times already, each kiss getting more intense than the last. This one was the longest thus far as well as the most heated, most lustful. It left Erart craving more than what he was able to have in these public halls.

"You mean that?" Erart asked as he drew back from Derin, heavy breaths escaping him. His eyelids fluttered as he looked down at his partner, who stood just a little shorter than him.

Against the wall, Derin looked flustered but unashamedly blissful. "Yes, that. You should probably stop doing that, otherwise, we will be late."

But the knight could not stop the grin from forming on his gentle features.

"Can I have an 'I owe you'for later?" Erart asked.

Derin rolled his eyes and said, "Yes, of course, love,"

But it was an 'I owe you' that would never come.

The pair only managed a few more chaste kisses before the arrived at the door to King Adleherd's study. Erart sent Derin a loving look before confidently knocking on the door. Today was the day. After a long year of courting privately, Erart and Derin had finally decided to ask King Adleherd to bless a marriage between the two of them. It had taken a lot of courage on both of their parts, but Erart felt that they were ready.

His father's voice sounded from within his study, calling for them to enter. King Adleherd glanced at the pair of them as they entered the room before turning to look out the window.

"Erart, Derin. You've returned. Welcome home," he said.

"Thank you, Father," Erart said, swallowing. Derin stood beside him. Their hands were close enough to brush, but their fingers were not intertwined. "I've got news for you."

There was a short pause. His father seemed intrigued by this. "I'm curious what new you have brought me after you adventures abroad, my son," his father said. "I have news for you as well."

Erart quirked a brow. "What news do you have, Father?"

"Please sit, both of you. I believe this information will benefit you both," he said with a casual wave of his hand.

Erart and Derin sat on one of the lounge sofas near King Adleherd's desk. He didn't bother looking in their direction to confirm that they were seated before he began delivering his news.

"While you both were away, the High Priest had a premonition from God. It was quite a gracious premonition, in my opinion. One that will help the people of Forrod to gain economic standing in this world once more."

"What did God say to him, Father?" Erart asked, his brows raised in surprise.

God didn't talk to the High Priest very often. It was a rare and momentous occasion when they were graced with his word. The last time God had spoken to them was two years ago when Erart was twenty-one. He told His people that he did not want them to go to war with Dorthore because it would cause unnecessary bloodshed. Erart remembered it very clearly. He and his brother were so close to invading their neighboring country on behalf of God when he had spoken through his prophet, the High Priest, and told them not to. What could he have said this time that was so gracious?

"It is actually in relation to Dorthore once again," his father said, and then after a pause, "His will is that we attempt to convert the atheists of the neighboring kingdoms towards His religion, Sildren."

A broad smile spread across Erart's fair complexion and he seized Derin's hand in joy. "Father, that's amazing! I will gladly volunteer to convert those sinners toward God and Sildren. Send me anywhere you need me to go."

"I'm glad you have volunteered, my son. This makes things far easier. I never expect anything less from you when it comes to your duty, Erart."

"Of course, Father."

"You see, news spread far and wide after God's premonition. We, of course, had to tell our allies, and soon the atheists caught wind. Dorthore actually reached out to us whilst you were away, my son, and requested to trade with us. King Harold and I managed to come to an agreement."

"Is that where you'd like me to go first, Father? I'll gladly go as a missionary to Dorthore! Derin can even go with me."

Erart looked at Derin with a broad smile on his face, and the smile on Derin's face was just as wide. The prospect was so exciting. They could travel the world and spread God's word. Erart was never going to be the king of Forrod so this was the best way he could see serving his God and his country.

A heavy sigh escaped his father's lips. "I don't think Derin will be going with you to Dorthore, Erart."

Derin and Erart rose simultaneously in surprise, their hands clasped even tighter now. Panic filled Erart's heart. Why would his father want Derin to stay in Forrod? Did he believe that Derin would prove distracting? Did

"Father, about that. There was something I needed to tell you as well," Erart said desperately.

"Erart, I have a feeling I know what you're going to say, so I'm not going to even ask you to say it."

"But Father you're not making any sense!" Erart yelled. He was getting tense. His breath was coming faster. It felt as if a drum had begun to relentlessly beat in his chest.

"King Harold and I came to the agreement of having a matrimonial alliance, Erart." His father wouldn't look at him. He had risen from his chair behind his desk and now was staring out the large picture window in his office. His back was turned to Erart.

"A matrimonial a-alliance?" Erart stammered softly. His voice was low, quiet, and filled with surprise. He desperately asked, "Did Princess of Dorthore agree to marry Cardin?"

"No, Erart. Don't waste my time with those silly suggestions."

"Then what?"

"I offered your hand to the king of Dorthore, and he very humbly accepted. You will be officially betrothed when you travel to Dorthore."

Erart was at a loss for words. The world seemed to slow around him. His grasp slackened on Derin's hand, whose face he couldn't bring himself to look at. His father had offered his hand in marriage to the king of Dorthore. He hadn't even asked Erart if he'd accept. He just assumed. He offered Erart away, and now he was to marry a sinful atheist? Erart couldn't accept that.

He opened his lips in protest. "But Father, I can't. Derin and I, we-"

His father cut him off. "Do you mean to tell me you wish to put your own selfish interests before that of Forrod? Were you not the one who just told me to send you where I need you to go?" his father asked in an accusatory tone. "This is where I need you to go, Erart. Dorthore is where you are needed in a position where you can exact the change that is needed. That is your duty."

Erart stiffened. His duty, yes. It was his duty to serve his country and his people and his God. But this decision was so cruel. His vision was becoming blurry, and it was difficult for him to see clearly. He blinked back tears, the salty water catching on his eyelashes. Why did his duty have to be so painful? Why when he was about to announce some of the happiest news of his life? The chance had been stolen away from him before he could act on it. Why had God given them such a gift in spreading his word and then cursed him, His willing messenger, with such a fate?

"Yes, Father. I understand," Erart choked out through a constricted, tightened chest. He had to force out the next words despite how painful they were. "I'll do as you ask. I'll marry the king of Dorthore."

As the words left Erart's mouth, he felt Derin's hand slacken in his grasp and disappear altogether. He couldn't bring himself to stop Derin from fleeing the room, from fleeing the fate Erart's duty had just brought upon him. The door slammed shut behind Derin, leaving Erart and his father in awkward silence.

"I'm sorry this is the way it has to be, but I'm glad you didn't fight me on it. It would have made it more painful for the two of you."

"How could this be more painful? I just let him leave..." Erart said quietly before biting back a strangled sob. This was the worst pain Erart had ever felt. His heart was shattering and the pieces were so sharp that he didn't dare try to pick them up. "What am I doing standing here? I can't do this... I need to go after him."

"If you walk out that door after him, Erart, you're walking out on the future of Forrod," his father suddenly challenged, whipping around to face his son. "Don't you think it will be more painful if you go after him and try to explain? Do you want to remind him of this? Don't waste his time and yours. What's done is done. Move on."

King Adleherd quickly swept from the room, breezing past his son without even sparing him a glance. As soon as the door slammed shut for the second and final time, Erart let his emotions out like a torrent of rushing waves. A sense of complete hopelessness washed over him. There was nothing he could do. He couldn't mend this situation. No amount of prayer would give him the magical fairytale ending he wanted. Erart crumpled down to his knees as more tears spilled over his lids. He felt so numb and helpless and completely and utterly crushed. There he sat in a puddle of his own tears and the shattered remains of his broken heart.

Derin hung himself three days later. Erart heard the news from his mother's lips as she hurled insults and curses his way. He couldn't blame her. Not exactly. Not at the cost of her only son. They wouldn't let him come to the funeral, not even to give his condolences or pay his respect. They hated him now, and he hated himself, too. He should have gone after him, but instead, he let him go. He never got his 'I owe you'.

It was warm and sunny the morning that Erart was due to leave on a ship bound for Dorthore, but Erart couldn't feel the sun on his skin. Everything to him was cold and bleak. As he stood in the center of the graveyard, a gentle breeze blew around him, ruffling his silver hair, sending more chills down his spine. His vision was bleary and blurred. Everything around him was hazy. His eyes were swollen and red. He wasn't crying, though. He didn't think he could manage another tear even if he tried. The wells behind his eyes had dried up. It was painful to be here, the place he'd been avoiding for the last two months. New grass had grown there and so had some wildflowers, but they did nothing to ease the weight from Erart's heart. He wanted to throw things and break things and curse the world. He stood before the stone monument that marked Derin's final resting place, but it was standing here that made reality set it. The weight of the world came crashing down on him, forcing all of the breath from his lungs. Derin was dead. He had killed himself. Rather than watch the love of his life hand himself over to another, he took the easier way out. But that decision was not easy. It took a lot of resolve, resolve that Erart couldn't bring himself to have in these past two miserable months. Derin was gone. He was dead. He had left the Earth. He was never coming back to Forrod.

And neither was Erart.

He had come to the decision last night that Derin, despite the low place he had been in when he had taken his own life, would not want Erart to feel pain. He wouldn't want this decision to be hard for Erart. He would want him to move on with his life. Moving on would be hard. It would be the hardest thing that Erart would ever prepare himself to do, but he would do it. Derin had left an everlasting hole in Erart's heart, but he would slowly patch it.

The prince reached inside of his pocket and pulled out a small flower he had stowed there on his way to the graveyard. He set in front of Derin's headstone before turning on his heel and walking to the ship that would whisk him away from the place that would indefinitely leave a sour taste in his mouth.

Erart collapsed onto his new bed, only briefly marvelling at how soft the sheets were after two long weeks aboard a ship whose hammocks were not favorable at all. He had arrived in Dorthore that morning, and thus far, he was pleased with what he had seen. Some of the most recent stories he had heard about

Erart had been standing in the center of the throne room, chatting with the King's advisor, Eins, and his own guard that had accompanied him to Dorthore when the King was announced. Erart's bright blue eyes shifted in the direction of a door that was situated right behind the throne. The man who stepped out was indeed quite handsome. He was tall, probably just as tall as Erart stood. His dark hair framed his angular face in a pleasant sort of way. His bright eyes were fixated on Erart.

So, this is my husband to be, Erart thought to himself. Not bad. Not bad at all.

It was silly to base his first impression of the king on his looks, but the way one presented themself spoke legions of their character. If King Harold could look his finest just to meet his betrothed, they Erart could be satisfied until he got to know him more.

He and Harold had spent the rest of the afternoon together, and by the time it was over, Erart was thoroughly exhausted. A bed had never felt so comfortable to him, not after spending two weeks in a hammock on the ocean. He was eternally grateful for linen sheets and a cup of tea by his bed.

He tucked himself under the blankets and took the steaming cup into his hands. For his first day in Dorthore, it went well. At first, he didn't know what to expect. He'd heard stories about this place since he was a child. He's always heard such horrible things about the late King Howard and his two legitimate children, Harold and Catherine. He was even ashamed to admit that he had worried that the childhood fairytales he'd heard about Dorthore would be correct - that the people would be blood-sucking devils that hailed Satan, but upon meeting Harold this morning, Erart had realized that that was the silliest thing he could have imagined. Harold was far from that. He didn't even believe in Satan. Erart had begun to wonder what other misleading information he had been fed over the course of his life. From their conversations that day, Harold was a very likable sort of man. He was smart and had a sense of humor despite it being dry. Erart had even said some pretty bold things to see how far he could push his betrothed's temper, but Harold did not crack. He didn't rebuke Erart or tell him off for saying such rude things to him, a king no less. Harold seemed willing to make this arrangement work, which was relieving to Erart. He couldn't imagine living the rest of his life here as some miserable wretch who couldn't even sleep in the same room as his husband. From the feeling in his gut, he could trust Harold.

His advisor was also a really likable and dutiful guy. Erart had talked to him for quite some time before King Harold arrived. He had been nervous and on edge when he had first arrived. He didn't know what he was to expect coming to a new place and meeting his betrothed for the first time. Eins has made that first hour of being in Dorthore so much more bearable. He had made some comments about the King's constant procrastination. He made a few jokes about how Erart should hope he's not late for his own wedding. It really set Erart's heart at ease. He could grow to like Eins a lot, especially as he got to know him more.

The kitchen staff had also proven how wonderful they were. Erart had sat at the dining table sort of at a loss earlier that evening. This was to be his first meal outside of any of the comforts that Forrod could provide. On the ship, they had had a lot of wholesome meals such as stews that his mother had loved while he was growing up. They had given him wine from Forrod as well as sweets. He was unsure of what Dorthore could offer. But upon sharing a meal with Harold, Erart found that he'd be highly satisfied with the food here. The meal was bursting with flavor, and it seemed that that was just the way Harold preferred to eat.

"Do they always cook like this?" he had asked Harold as they sat across from one another.

"More or less," Harold replied. "Although, the cook is really showing off. He doesn't usually make cakes like he has tonight. It's mostly press and smaller treats."

It would suffice to say that the cake was by far Erart's favorite part of the meal.

First impressions meant a lot to Erart, and thus far, Dorthore and it's monarchy had left a good one. After one long, eventful day, Erart was able to fall asleep easily, knowing that he was in safe hands here in Dorthore. The weeks before this, the ones where he had finally mustered up the courage to visit Derin's final resting place were the hardest. Now that he was no longer in Forrod where it had all transpired, her might be able to cope. Here he had the chance to move on and patch the gaping hole in his heart. He could start something new where no one knew of his pain, and Erart was looking forward to it.

Harold

A hot and heavy breath flowed from Harold's mouth as he came, his spine arched up above the linen sheets of his bed. Eins' lips were wrapped around his length, his fingers stroking his sensitive member. His whole body was shaking with sensory overload. His heart was thrumming in his chest. His eyes were fluttering in the ecstasy of it all. God, he had needed this. His head was in such a strange place, and Eins always seemed to make him forget for at least a little while.

He released another heavy breath, and all of the built up tension in his shoulders melted into oblivion. Eins always knew how to make him unwind, how to make his body crave more of what he shouldn't have. His expert hands catered to his every sexual desire and need. He made Harold feel like one of those gods he didn't believe in when they spent time under his sheets together. Harold took in another deep breath before sitting up and pulling Eins to him by his wrists. The skin of the chests met, and he kissed the bespectacled man heatedly, a salty taste transferring from Eins' lips to his own. They were there for what seemed like eternity, suspended in a timewarp of hands roaming bare skin and lips desperately seeking for more until Harold pulled Eins' glasses away from his eyes.

Harold then whispered against his lips, "Lay on your stomach."

Eins whispered back, "Of course, your highness."

While the other laid out on his stomach, Harold arose from his bed and rummaged through his side table until he found a small bottle of oil. He palmed a bit of it before rubbing it against his length, coating its entirety. He then turned back to Eins, who had done as Harold had commanded. His chest was pressed against the bed, his ass risen high in the air. Oh, how Harold admired his ass... Harold wiped the excess oil off on a towel he had abandoned on the bed from his evening bath and joined Eins on the bed. He ran his hands along Eins' sides, watching as his friend and lover's breath shuddered in pleasure. Yes, this was exactly what he wanted. He wanted Eins to shudder in the feelings that he was creating. He leaned over Eins until his lips were near his ear.

"Tell me what you want from me," he breathed, his breath a tickle against Eins' ear.

"I want you to fuck me," Eins replied in a voice barely above a whisper.

Harold drew away from Eins' ear and pressed his tip against Eins' entrance like he had done many times before. He slowly added pressure until he slid in. A gasp escaped Eins' lips as Harold gently began to rock his hips, the skin of his pelvis grazing that of Eins' ass. Harold enjoyed the pressure around his member, but this was more about Eins than him. One of his hands reached down in front of Eins, stroking his length generously while the other weaved its way into his thick, long hair, pulling his head back gently towards him. As Harold's motions got quicker, Eins' breathing got heavier, harder, faster until he came. He was a sticky, hot mess against Harold's fingers, but he didn't mind. This was how it was. This was how he liked it. He'd rather be catered to first and then repay the favor. They pulled apart and cleaned up slowly before laying back down under Harold's cover.

He pulled Eins to his chest, his back against him, and wrapped his arms around him in a tight embrace. He needed this. He needed him to be close to him. Eins was everything that kept Harold sane. He was the only reason he was able to go through everything he was going through with this alliance and his impending wedding. The only reason he was still standing right now was Eins. He was a voice of reason in every walk of life. He couldn't afford to lose his guidance and his comfort.

He didn't know how much longer they had left.

The rhythmic rise and fall of Eins' chest told him he was asleep. And while Eins could find that relaxation, Harold was still awake. He stared at the canopy above his bed, his eyebrows furrowed. While he and Eins were at the height of their intimacy, Prince Erart was the furthest thing from his mind, but now as he laid here awake with only his thoughts, Prince Erart was his only focus.

He was a strange man, that was the best way to describe it. He had said some very blunt things to Harold at the beginning of their meeting, but after that, he was kind and attentive and inquisitive. He wanted to know everything that he could about Dorthore. He wanted to know everything he could about Harold, his husband to be and companion for life. And Harold couldn't help but answer his questions. Erart was easy to talk to. He was innocent and deep down, Harold could tell he was very kind. All Erart seemed to want to do after his initial rudeness was please Harold and make him like him.

Deep down, Harold had hoped the prince would be an awful human being. He hoped he would be despicable and irritating and the last person Harold would ever want to be around because he so desperately wanted to be with Eins. But now, in the early hours of the night with Eins wrapped in his arms, Harold had a courtroom inside of his head where he was acting as judge and accused and defendant and witness...

The judge told him he was so very wrong for doing this. He was officially engaged. His wedding was but a month away, and here he was, sleeping around with his advisor and best friend in secret. The accused inside of him told him to follow the philosophical path and do what made him happy. The defendant listed every philosophical reason why the accused wasn't in the wrong, why he shouldn't bother with what the judge said. And the witness told him this was wrong and that Erart deserved better for having to give up his entire life to come to Dorthore to marry someone like Harold. This was all so messed up, and Harold couldn't help but worry about it all, to wonder what would transpire in the coming weeks.

His thoughts wandered in between these dark areas throughout the rest of the night. But there was a funny thing about sleep that he had pondered many times since he began studying philosophy. Despite the mind being so preoccupied, it could easily fall asleep. One never knew when it would happen. Sleep would simply be upon them. That was how Harold experienced it yet again that night. One moment, Harold was wide awake, worrying about what was to come, and the next, he was waking in the dim morning light, the bed around him cold and empty. Just as he always did, Eins slipped from his bed before the castle could wake. And just as always, he didn't bother to kiss Harold goodbye.

A/N/: So, I think that it is sufficient to say that this chapter was incredibly heavy on the heart. I do want everyone to know that I'm not taking the topic of suicide very lightly, and that I am transcribing a lot of my own emotions into Erart right now. I've experienced the loss of my best friend due to suicide, just as many others have, and despite four and half years having past, I think this is a very good creative outlet for me to cope as well as others. I do want everyone to know that the effect of Derin's suicide will more than likely resurface in the coming chapters as Erart's emotions progress and other events in the story unfold. If the chapters are heavy with it, I will post warnings. I do not plan to post them if it is mentioned once in passing. This is my official warning for the rest of the story in regard to that. It will be in the story description, if I can fit it.

Please continue reading. I really do value the votes and the comments and the reads.

Give my friend the amazing Diby_Doodle a read. Her and her stickers are the main reason I'm writing this. (Totally bargained an entire, full-length fanfiction over stickers cause why the hell not. Well worth it. She's a good friend to me).