The Dream and the Waking

"So, when's the wedding?"

What wedding? Aurora almost asks before she remembers…

The wedding to unite two kingdoms.

The wedding that drove a wedge between her and Maleficent.

The wedding Ingrith used to trap and murder her friends.

The wedding that led to a massacre of the Dark Fae and Ulstead's queen charged with high treason.

Hers and Phillip's wedding.

No one has mentioned it since the disaster - at least, not to Aurora. Everyone is biting their tongues, not wanting to remember the horror and tragedy of that day.

So, it is a shock when, months into the negotiations, Borra - of all folk - brings it up. No doubt an attempt at small talk now they have found themselves alone during a visit to her palace.

"Phillip and I… we haven't spoken of it… there is… so much else… it's not the right time…"

This is true. And it is not.

Aurora and Phillip have both been caught up in the whirlwind which followed what is referred to as the First Day of Peace or, more bleakly, the Crimson Massacre (someone suggested the Red Wedding but that was unanimously shot down). Between peace talks, repairs, the investigation into Ingrith's plot, and their responsibilities to their respective kingdoms, they have barely spoken.

Something she is only now realising.

When the dust settled, Aurora had been so overcome with emotion (betrayal, fury, devastation, relief, love) she was willing to do anything - anything - to rectify the wrongs caused by her mistakes. All it would have taken was a word, the right look, and she would have married Phillip then and there and called it a happy ending.

But life is not a storybook you can close on a satisfying conclusion. Her people needed a ruler, not a bride, and there were greater wounds to attend to than her pride.

Truthfully, she knows Phillip will make time for her if she asks, but thinking about the wedding makes her stomach churn, her body simultaneously too hot and freezing, reminded of her friends suffering, all because she was blinded by a sympathetic smile.

She wanted so badly to be accepted by the royal family - never knowing her real parents. Even though she has her godmother, she still selfishly wished to fill that hole with Queen Ingrith and King John. The perfect pawn for Ingrith's plot.

Aurora has never felt such vicious anger as she does when she thinks of the Queen and how easily she manipulated her, using her to hurt Maleficent and lure the Moor Folk into a trap. She is so ashamed of how she treated her godmother, doesn't understand how the fae could forgive so easily.

Sometimes when she looks at Phillip she wants to scream. How could he have let this happen? How could he not see what his own mother was planning?

It is not fair, she knows, and is another reason to avoid him, afraid of what might slip out.

Borra is watching her. How much does he perceive? She cannot hide her thoughts and feelings the way Phillip can - a trick he learned from his mother.

"You and the Prince have... helped us a great deal. More than I expected from humans."

She bristles. "The Moors are my home too."

She isn't just another human. She is the Queen of the Moors.

("I feel like I'm not Queen of the Moors anymore. I feel like a different person.")

Borra cocks his head. "Until you move to Ulstead. After the wedding."

Stone walls loom around her, a frilled collar itches her throat, painted smiles ooze false niceties, she is imobile in pinching shoes and a voluminous dress, too tight, too stuffy, can't breathe, can't breath-

There is the unmistakable flapping of wings. She is already facing the window when Diaval swoops inside, transforming from a bird to a man.

"Diaval, you're back!" She rushes to embrace him.

He has only been gone five days, on a mission across Ulstead, spying on the various noble houses to ensure no one is planning a coup d'état. Queen Ingrith has her sympathisers. Not everyone is happy about Ulstead's alliance with the Moors.

Aurora understands the wisdom of such precautions but resents Phillip for enlisting Diaval. He has his own spies to command. However, since she started sending Diaval in her stead, he and Phillip have become good friends. It should please her to see her dearest friend and her fiancé getting along. Instead her skin prickles, a scratching in her chest.

"Your radiance," Diaval kisses her hand and her heart jumps.

"I missed you."

He grins, opening his mouth when his eyes catch on something over her shoulder. "Hello Borra, I didn't realise you were here."

She whips round, recalling the fae's presence like a dunk in the river.

"Diaval," he greets, regarding the pair.

Aurora steps away from the raven.

"The Queen and I were discussing the alliance."

"Ah," Diaval's gaze darts between them. "Sorry, didn't mean to interrupt."

"I have to go anyway." He nods to Aurora, not a bow but she recognises the significance of that small show of respect from the warrior. "Thank you for your time."

"You are always welcome, Borra."

He must hear the truth in her words because his face softens a fraction and he nods again before taking his leave.

Diaval turns, full of concern. "Everything alright?"

She sighs, flopping into the floral loveseat. "Yes, just tired. But why am I complaining? You've been on a mission these last few days."

"A queen's work is never done." He settles beside her. "As for us birds, well… it's called skylarking for a reason."

"I wish I was a bird." She slumps against his shoulder. "Then I could fly away with you instead of being stuck here."

"You love the Moors."

"I do." She fiddles with the petals of her gown. "But I love it less when you're not here."

He sucks in a breath, shoulder shuddering, and wraps an arm around her. "I missed you too."

She closes her eyes, pushing back thoughts of Phillip, their wedding, and Borra's shrewd gaze, and focuses on the familiar rhythm of the raven's heartbeat.

Nothing seems as bad when she is in Diaval's arms.

~x~

"Has something happened with the Prince?"

Aurora does not glance at her godmother as she continues her routine circuit of the Moors. "What do you mean? Phillip is fine - oh, hello there!"

"Hello, Queen Aurora!" the fae chorus, returning her wave.

"And when did you last speak?" Maleficent persists.

"We speak all the time."

"Face-to-face?"

Aurora purses her lips.

"You're treating poor Diaval like a pigeon."

"We've been busy, is all."

Maleficent hums.

Aurora keeps her smile in place as she greets the rest of the Moor Folk, inquiring after their families and wellbeing, checking if there are any issues to address, and attempting to drag the discussion out for as long as possible.

Maleficent is a silent shadow, her frosty demeanour causing the folk to cut their conversations short and dart back to their homes.

"You're being rude."

"Any ruder than you ignoring your fiancé?"

"I'm not ignoring Phillip," Aurora huffs, wishing she didn't feel like a child as she stomps away from her godmother.

Of course, Maleficent follows, graceful in her movements even as she matches Aurora's quickened pace.

"Oh? So it's a coincidence you haven't spoken in a month?"

"I told you, we're both too busy. It's not easy ruling a kingdom."

"There was a time I couldn't pry you from the Prince, try as I might."

Aurora rounds on her. "So now Phillip has your approval?"

"The Prince has proven himself an honourable sort. He stood by you when his mother did not, when his kingdom did not. I can respect him for that. And if you both truly love each other… well then you have my blessing."

Once those words were all she wanted, now they make her stomach churn.

"True love…" Aurora mutters. "How do you know… if it's… if it's true love?"

"Beastie…"

"I mean… soulmarks are meant to be proof of true love and Phillip and I are already wrong by that count."

Maleficent sighs. "Sit with me."

They settle in the emerald glade.

"I'm not the best fae to speak on… on matters of the heart…"

"But you're my mother?"

Maleficent smiles. "Yes… which is why I will endeavour to help how I can…"

She weighs her next words, a long pause filled by the song of the Moors.

"I expect you've guessed I have a soulmark."

"I wondered…"

"On my back. I never gave it thought before…"

"Was… was it… my fa- King- King Stefan… I mean…?"

They don't talk of her father. She knows the memory of the King upsets her godmother. But if it were anyone… Stefan once called Maleficent his true love… before he sawed off her wings. Did he gaze upon his sleeping lover's soulmark as he brutalised her body?

Bile rises in her throat.

Maleficent's hand settles on hers. "It was not the King."

"Then… then who?"

"I never knew them."

"Oh."

Maleficent is quiet, eyes sweeping across Aurora's face, searching for something.

"But… the Ki- Stefan… he… he took pleasure in… in informing me… during our… our final confrontation… th-that… Le-... the Queen… your mother… bore my soulmark…"

Aurora's mouth swings open. "Whaaattt?!"

"He could have been lying but I don't think he was. He… he hated it."

"My… my mother?"

"Queen Leila," Maleficent says gently, as if the name is fragile and priceless.

Tears prick at Aurora's eyes. "I wish I'd known her."

"I do too," Maleficent murmurs and Aurora isn't sure if she means Aurora or herself. "But I have been blessed with knowing you, my Beastie. And I've no doubt Queen Leila would have loved you very much."

Aurora is full-on crying now and she throws her arms around the fae, dribbling tears all over her gown. "You are my mother and I love you so much!"

"Beastie…" Maleficent's voice wobbles and she passes a hand through her daughter's hair. "I didn't tell you this to make you sad but because a soulmark is no guarantee of love… and love is no guarantee of happiness."

("Love doesn't always end well.")

Aurora pulls back enough so she is facing her godmother. "But what does that mean for Phillip and I?"

Maleficent gives her a long considering look and Aurora tries not to fidget.

"Let me ask you this… do you want to marry Phillip?"

"I love him."

Maleficent tilts her head. "And do you want to become the Queen of Ulstead?"

She sees Ingrith, glistening in her battle gown, lips curled into a sneer and eyes full of hate.

She shudders. "No."

Maleficent is quiet and in the silence her answer echoes.

No. No. No.

"Wait… I d-didn't… I didn't mean… I love Phillip."

"Phillip is the sole heir to the throne, he will be King of Ulstead one day, and if you marry him, you will be his queen."

She recoils, dropping her head into her palms. "Ugghhh, why is this so difficult?"

"Did you expect love to be easy?"

"It used to be… before…"

Before they became engaged, before she realised what it meant to be Phillip's queen.

She wraps her arms around her chest. "I don't think I can marry Phillip."

Maleficent places a hand on her shoulder. "You don't have to."

"But… but…"

"Much has happened since he proposed… much has changed. You are allowed to change your mind."

"But Phillip…! It will break his heart!"

"I think it would break his heart more to see you miserable married to him. If you tell him now, you will spare him later pain."

She sobs. "I have made such a mess of things. I keep hurting people! What is wrong with me?"

"Nothing is wrong with you, Beastie. You try so hard to please everyone, even at the expense of yourself."

"I've made so many mistakes!"

"So have we all. It is how you learn."

"But I hurt you and endangered the Moor Folk and now Phillip and I aren't even… won't even… what was it all for?"

Maleficent strokes her hair, voice soothing. "For peace, dearest one. You have achieved what no one else could… peace between the Moors and the humans."

"But for how long? Without a marriage… will it all fall apart?"

"Marriage is not the only way to achieve peace nor is it any guarantee. King John's marriage to Ingrith did not keep him safe."

Aurora gulps down air, her throat raw and scratchy.

Maleficent wipes away her tears. "You have already accomplished so much. More than I once believed possible. It is thanks to yours and Phillip's persistence that we have this peace but you have built it to out-last the two of you. It will not crumple because your heart changed. And unless I have seriously misjudged the Prince - in which case, I'd like to see him try - he will not seek retribution."

"No, Phillip is… Phillip is kind."

"Then you needn't be afraid to face him."

Aurora bows her head. "I wish it didn't hurt so much."

Maleficent wraps her arms around her daughter. "I know, Beastie. I know."

~x~

When Aurora requests to see him after a month of absence Phillip feels a weight lift from his shoulders, only to dangle over his head like an axe about to fall.

She sits him down and explains, with teary eyes, why she cannot marry him, though he is the best man she knows and is lucky to have been loved by him. It is truly a heartfelt speech, each line delicately delivered as if she can dull their sharp edges.

He doesn't mean to laugh.

Aurora looks aghast, probably fearing him mad - which shouldn't be as funny as it is and yet, he can't help himself, clutching his stomach as laughter wracks his body. Her appalled expression only makes it worse.

"I-I'm s-s-sorry… hehe... I'm s-sorry… it's just… ha! ...just… th-this is… hehe... is… the first time someone… has- ha! -hasn't wanted to ma- marry me… hehe... b-because… because of the crown."

He takes a deep breath, choking down any lingering giggles.

Aurora stares. "Oh."

He straightens, smoothing his hair. "Sorry, I didn't… I didn't mean to laugh, it just… it just happened."

"You don't need to apologise."

"I think I do… I think I could have prepared you better for the shock of Ulstead."

"What your mother did wasn't your fault."

But he isn't blameless either. Isn't that the reason she avoids him? Why she is breaking their engagement?

Now the laughter has subsided, his chest aches.

"I wasn't referring to my mother's attempted coup. I meant the reality of royal life… it was hard on you."

She worries her lower lip. "You tried to make me feel comfortable."

"But I should have warned you, should have done more… I liked it too much in the Moors, pretending I wasn't a prince, pretending things could be simple."

Maybe that is what he truly fell in love with, a fantasy - the once upon a dream.

"I liked it too," she says, softly.

"Maybe we were wrong, maybe we should have stayed friends."

Instead of buying into the faerie tale where the Prince marries the Princess and they live happily ever after.

"I do love you, Phillip."

The knife twists in his heart.

"And I love you, Aurora. I never lied about that." He glances at his hand, unclenching his fist and admiring the crescent marks dug into his palm. "But in our case, it seems love is not enough."

"I'm sorry."

Don't be sorry.

He offers her a weak smile. "We wanted peace at any cost. We didn't realise that cost would be us."

"This won't impact the alliance… will it?"

He fights a tremor, unable to prevent his eyes falling shut for just a second…

"Not unless you have a sudden desire to expand the Moors."

"Of course not!"

"Then no," he drawls, mouth thin. "Ulstead's peace holds with the Moors, though I think we should give each other some space."

She is quick to agree and Phillip bites back an ungenerous comment on her recent behaviour.

"Well then…"

They stare at each other, awkwardly.

"I shall take my leave of you, Queen Aurora."

He performs a curt bow, heading for the door, despite this being his castle and she the guest.

"Phillip, wait!"

He stiffens, heart in his throat.

"H-here… this… this is yours…"

She holds out a hand, it is shaking so badly it takes him a moment to identify the object nestled in her palm - her engagement ring.

His heart fractures, hand trembling as he reaches out and closes her fingers around the ring.

"Keep it."

She stares up at him, blue eyes stealing his breath once more.

He tries for a smile and tastes blood. "As a memento and a promise of peace."

Aurora's sunlight smile is cast in cloud but gratitude gleams in her eyes. "Thank you, Phillip."

"Farewell, Aurora." He bows again, this time keeping his eyes locked on hers. The corner of his lip twitches. "Until we meet again."

This time when he walks away she does not call out and he heads to his private quarters, bolting the door behind him.

He needs a drink.

~x~

"I'm leaving."

Aurora startles, almost dropping the engagement ring. She doesn't know what to do with it since Phillip refused to take it back. It glints, tauntingly. She has tried shoving it away but it calls to her… like the spinning wheel once did… a curse she cannot escape.

Then again, it has only been two days. Perhaps this pain will fade, as her godmother assured her it would. Maybe then she won't feel so wretched.

"You're… you're what?"

"I'm leaving," Diaval repeats.

She doesn't understand. "Leaving? But… but why?"

"To continue my spywork. There is still a threat."

"But I… I haven't asked you to?"

His smile doesn't reach his eyes. "It needs to be done."

Does it? Aurora shifts in her seat. "When are you leaving?"

"Now."

Her heart feels as cold as stone as it sinks through her chest.

"Now? But… so soon?"

He nods. Her fingers clench.

"When will you be back?"

"I don't know."

She tries to mask her disappointment. "Ohh… not long, I hope?"

He doesn't say anything. She has never known him to be so… so tight-lipped. Diaval is one of the few folk she can rely on to express his true feelings - no false compliments, no white lies, no hidden agendas. Like her, his heart is on his sleeve.

There is never any pretence between them. Or, there never used to be.

She wants to scream. Instead she says, softly, "I'll miss you. Please be safe."

Something flickers across his face, too quick for her to understand.

He takes her hand and kisses it. "My Queen."

She sucks in a breath, a thousand words clogging in her throat.

He lingers over her hand, dark eyes an abyss she tumbles into, lungs burning, but she dare not break the spell.

Diaval drops her hand like hot coal. "Goodbye, Aurora."

He is gone in a poof of feathers before she finishes his name.

She stares after him out the window. The engagement ring forgotten.

~x~

The Prince is drunk.

He is lounged in his chair, doublet discarded, gold locks free of their confines. His rumpled chemise dips low, revealing tantalising skin, a tell-tale flush creeps past his collarbone and Borra tries not to imagine how far it goes.

"Boorrr-ra," the Prince's tongue caresses each syllable, wine-stained lips splitting into a smile.

He swallows. It is not the warrior's first time visiting the Prince in his private quarters, with their budding companionship, but it is the first time he has seen him so… unravelled...

"Phillip," he tries to say like it's a string of letters and not everything.

Those oasis eyes glow in the candlelight, lacking their usual focus. Eleven days have passed since Queen Aurora ended their engagement.

Borra hates her a little - a shameful, jealous hate that eats him from the inside because Aurora is lovely yet she cast Phillip's heart aside like it wasn't everything. Like he isn't everything.

Sometimes, he doesn't know who he hates more - Aurora, for being loved by Phillip and rejecting him anyway, or himself, for falling for the human prince and betraying Greer's memory…

(Himself. Always himself).

All he knows is he is filled with hate and Phillip deserves better than this for a soulmate.

And yet. Phillip's sleeves are rolled-up to his elbows, soulmark shamelessly on display. If Borra wants he can reach out and run his fingers along the intricate mark. If Borra wants…

(Oh, how he wants.)

But he won't. Not like this. Not when the Prince is grieving a love lost.

Then why come? taunts a voice in his head.

Every moment spent with Phillip is a risk. If he wants to protect him, the warrior should keep away.

But…

"You asked for me."

Fear and hope muddies together.

"I did." Phillip's smile makes the candles seem dim. "And here you are."

He clambers from his chair, lithe body usually so graceful, now clumsy and uncoordinated.

Borra braces, half expecting an attack. "Why did you? Ask for me?"

"I don't know."

He stumbles and Borra catches his shoulder. Instead of righting himself, the Prince leans further into the fae's touch, face softening as he looks at him like no one has in a long, long time.

"All I know is... I wanted to see you."

And then he kisses him.

Borra had not been in the Moors long before Conall shoved a tankard of amber liquid into his hand.

"Ambrosia. Careful, it's powerful stuff."

The desert fae scoffed and then nearly keeled over at what felt like liquid sun scorching through his throat and into his veins until he was certain if you cut him open he would bleed gold.

Conall clapped him on the back, grinning. "Good?"

Divine.

Phillip is better than any ambrosia, his kiss awakens a thirst the desert fae doesn't think will ever be sated. Yet he tries, opening his mouth with a groan to drink the Prince in…

Phillip moans, a delicious, heady sound, his tongue hot against the fae's and-

Borra shoves him back, ice in his blood. "You're drunk."

"You're beautiful," Phillip sighs, chasing his lips

Borra's stomach flips and goes tight. "Definitely drunk."

"Impossible. Tipsy at most. Prince's don't get drunk."

"I can smell the alcohol on you." Moments ago he could taste it.

Phillip pouts. "You're saying I smell."

"I- uh- "

The Prince lunges for another kiss, only to be foiled by the warrior's iron grip.

"Darling…"

"Not when you're drunk."

"So when I'm sober?"

Borra growls. No way is he arguing with a master negotiator. Even a drunk one. Especially a drunk one.

"I'm leaving."

He pushes the Prince with enough gentle force to have him stumbling backwards and turns to go.

"W-wait! Don't- DON'T LEAVE!" Hands seize his arm. "P-please… please… don't leave me... I'm sorry… please… n-not you too…"

Borra's heart cracks. "Prince… Phillip… I have to leave."

Phillip bows his head, bottom lip trembling.

"I have to leave but I'll come back." Borra cups his cheek. "Phillip… I'll come back."

The Prince stares at him, so much more subdued than a moment ago.

"I'm drunk."

Borra's lips tug into a smile. "Yes, you are."

Phillip grimaces, nuzzling the fae's palm. "Impossible."

Yes, you are.

Borra helps the not-drunk-just-tipsy prince to his bed.

"Boorrrr-ra…" he yawns, slur becoming more pronounced as sleep takes hold. "Givvve me a gooodnightsss kkss, pleeaasssee."

Borra's left eye twitches. "Go to sleep."

"Not until you kissss meee."

How is he soul-bonded to this stubborn, stupid, gorgeous brat?

Lacking the energy to protest, he leans in to peck his forehead. He should have anticipated the drunk idiot darting upwards to capture his lips for the second time that night.

Borra's head spins wondering if he can get drunk from a kiss.

Phillip smiles, infuriatingly smug.

He narrows his eyes and hopes his blush isn't visible in the dark. "Right. You've had your kiss. Now sleep."

"Goodnight, Your Grumpiness."

Borra rolls his eyes, heart drumming like it is trying to convey a message.

From beyond, he hears Greer laughing at him. It sounds like forgiveness.

~x~

Phillip wakes and wishes he could fall back asleep, already regretting overindulging the night before as the throbbing in his skull becomes more pronounced and he recalls the many meetings and responsibilities he has to attend.

A flash of heat across his lips, the spark of a memory, rough hands and gentle touch, smoke shifting to reveal flame...

Phillip lurches upright.

He kissed Borra last night. Twice.

He grapples with the memories, head screeching its protest, but he has to know…

Borra pushing him away. Borra leaving.

…how badly has he screwed things up?

He rubs a hand over his face groaning. As far as jeopardising the peace goes, getting drunk and tonguing a foreign ambassador has to be one of the stupidest. Not exactly unheard of, but not something he has ever done.

Until last night.

He thought he had control of these feelings... apparently, all it took was a little wine to loosen his lips. Now he may have lost a friend as well as caused a major diplomatic incident.

Arghh. Borra must think him the biggest idiot. He should give up his crown and become the Palace Fool.

Caught-up in despair, he doesn't notice the change until he does and then all other thoughts judder to a halt.

He rubs at his arm. No change.

His soulmark, once black, now glitters gold.

~x~

"Aurora has been so melancholy lately."

"Thistlewit! Of course she's melancholy! Her engagement to Phillip is over!"

"I know, Knotgrass! I was just remarking on it."

"Well you shouldn't. It's rude!"

"Is it?"

"Yes! Think how humiliating it would be for Aurora if she knew everyone was talking about her!"

Aurora pretends not to hear their bickering and carries on her way, plastering on a smile as she attempts the usual pleasantries with the Moor Folk. She can see from their faces her efforts are unsuccessful. Everyone can tell she is miserable.

They think it is because of Phillip, but that ache is like a pebble in her shoe - every so often it grates, uncomfortable but never unbearable.

This feels as if someone has thrown a cloak of cobweb over her and she can't claw free. Her senses are smothered - the grass is more grey than green, the flowers are faded, the berries bland, and the forest song is disharmonious with her own heartbeat.

She keeps searching the skies for a familiar shape but there is only cloud and the palest blue. There has been no news from Diaval since he left almost a month ago.

He has never disappeared this long and yet when the first week became the second and her hair was a frenzy as she raved to Maleficent about possible dangers, her godmother assured her she would detect it through her magic if the raven were dead or dying.

"But he could be injured! Or captured!"

"Beastie…" Maleficent petted her cheek. "While I would never tell him so, Diaval is a smart bird. He will be fine and you need to sleep."

Aurora scoffed. "Didn't you meet him in a trap?"

"Aurora, you must trust Diaval to take care of himself."

"But he's never been away this long! Why did he even leave?"

"To protect you, dearest. Always to protect you."

If Diaval wants to protect her so bad he should be guarding her side. It worked for the first twenty-one years.

She nods to the tree guards as she crosses the border and makes the trek to the cottage she grew up in. It was ramshackle to begin with and now the wildlife have made it their own, overrun with ivy and weeds.

She sits on the hill where Diaval and her used to play, the peasant and the pretty bird. How simple things once were.

She can see the outline of Oriens - the kingdom she gave up, the family she never knew. She has a new family, one she chose for herself. Maleficent is her mother and Diaval is…

Not her father. Yuck!

Not really a brother either.

Diaval is… Diaval.

She scrunches her nose, wondering why it is so hard to fit a label. Diaval is her childhood friend, her protector, he makes her laugh more than anyone and listens to every rambling thought and feeling. He is someone she can sit with in comfortable silence… someone she trusts to support her if she needs to lean back…

He is with whom she feels most herself, more her home than any place. He is her true north, her lifelong companion…

Raven's have a word for that, don't they? Diaval told her once… life mate.

Her hand slips and she over-balances, rolling down the hill like she used to as a child - except her dresses weren't so elaborate then. She lands in a heap of petticoats, spitting grass and hair from her mouth, the sky spinning above her.

Heat pools in dirtied cheeks and her heart beats like a bird in flight.

Oh.

~x~

"You're not drunk."

Borra's voice is far too chipper after the day Phillip has had. It doesn't stop his pulse from leaping.

"I was never drunk."

He rolls up the scroll he has been staring at for… for however long he has been staring at it. There is a crick in his neck and his left foot has gone numb.

He leans against the desk, conscious of Borra tracking his every movement. As a royal, Phillip is surrounded by opulence, yet all the treasures of the world seem drab and tacky compared to the warrior's amber eyes.

"What do you remember?"

This is his chance. If he pretends he doesn't remember kissing the fae, maybe they can still be friends.

But he would be lying and he doesn't want to lie, not to Borra.

"I remember making a fool of myself." He rakes a hand through his hair, unable to meet the other's gaze. "I remember… I… I forced myself on you… I'm sorry."

"You're sorry?"

He looks up, but is unable to read the other's expression. "Yes…? I'm sorry… I… I took advantage of you."

"You took advantage of me?" Borra scoffs, eyes luminescent in the fading sunlight. "Phillip… Prince… you were drunk. Mourning your broken engagement. If anything, I took advantage of you."

Phillip blinks slow. "Nooo… I kissed you."

"I liked it."

His stomach folds in on itself, a flicker of heat crawling up his neck. "What?"

Borra snarls, voice rough. "I liked it, Prince. It was all I could do not to have you then and there."

Phillip takes a moment to process this. "So… so why didn't you?"

Borra's eyes bulge. "Why…? I… You were drunk!"

"How noble," Phillip drawls, the corner of his lips tilting up. "I'm not drunk now."

"Don't joke."

"I'm serious." He prowls forward. "You liked it. I liked it. We should do it again."

"You- you're in love with Aurora!"

"I do love Aurora… but I've realised that is not the same thing."

Borra scrunches his brow. Phillip wants to smooth out all the creases, but he won't touch him. Not until he asks.

"And why wouldn't I want a handsome, clever, sarcastic, and frustratingly noble fae?"

When the warrior remains quiet, doubt squirms in, and Phillip steps back, clutching the desk behind him.

"Sorry… I thought… you said…"

And then Borra kisses him.

His hand tangles in Phillip's hair, the other caressing his throat. Borra's mouth is hot and brutal, Phillip feels as if he is being devoured - nothing like the chaste kisses shared with Aurora and everything he craves.

The noise Borra makes when Phillip tugs at his hair goes straight to his groin and he wraps his legs around the fae, pulling him closer until there is no space between them…

...and closer still.

Later, much later, he will wonder how he could have been such an idiot not to question why Borra never took off his arm wrap when he removed everything else.