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The crowd surrounding Tanner is stifling. He hates going to these parties. Galas and dances aren’t his style. He would much prefer a quiet evening in reading. Maybe a walk through the gardens. If he could just find someone actually interesting to speak to instead of the simpering low level nobility that tries to latch on, he might manage to have an interesting conversation.

But the Spring Fete is an important event. Making an appearance is important. He’s been Margrave for less than a year. Avoiding major events would start rumors of him being a recluse or worse. He doesn’t want another lecture on being sociable from his mother. So he does his best to make polite conversation.

He asks about families, siblings or cousins or children from the lists he’s made over the years. Following up on the small details that he gleaned back at the Winter festival and wrote in his book of notes. Occasionally there’s someone who actually has something captivating to talk about. He doesn’t let himself get distracted. Too much time with one person looks like playing favorites. Tanner’s entire goal at social events like these is to make just enough of an impression that he maintains his own reputation without causing rumors.

Not that he was concerned about that at the Winter Festival. The week long celebration at the capital, ending with the solstice, was full of fond memories. Feasts and good wine. Even better company. Tanner spent most of his evenings in the library or by one of the grand fireplaces. With Baron Morino. Eric.

Without the more structured formality required at most events, they fell into easy companionship.

Most of the nobility remained in their own provinces for the winter, happy to celebrate at home. The harsh winter made travel difficult anyway. Tanner journeyed to the capital at the insistence of his mother. Eric was there accompanying Lord Ahgren. When the Duke and his wife absconded on the second day of the festival, Tanner found Eric alone on the training grounds.

“Lord Aghren doesn’t need you to put his pants on for him today?” Tanner teased. Eric looked up, stopping in the middle of his sword form. The Baron’s expression was tense.

“The Duchess has insisted the Duke spend more time seeing to family matters,” Eric replied. Political. Polite. Measured.

“So they’ve gone to their winter cabin to fuck,” Tanner observed. “It wouldn’t be the first time.” That earned a small smile from Eric. Tanner stepped forward, around the edge of the training ground to the covered area beside the dirt arena. Even with the harsh chill of winter, he could see Eric was flushed and sweating.

“Was there something you needed, Margrave?”

“You looked like you might be in want of company,” Tanner offered. After their first meeting, he was intrigued by the man. Their territories weren’t far apart. He simply hadn’t found a good enough excuse to visit since running into Eric on the road last month.

“Care for a spar?” Eric asked. Tanner couldn’t look away from how Eric casually adjusted his sword. He returned to a relaxed posture, moving the blade in a fluid motion without ever pointing it at Tanner.

“I’ve left my sword in my room,” Tanner said. “Maybe another time. I’ve got some reading to catch up on, if you don’t mind an audience?” Eric tilted his head, finally noticing the travel desk Tanner carried out to the training yard. He was at least accustomed to the cold winters and could work in the chill.

“I’m about to be finished,” Eric replied. “Perhaps you might consider catching up on your work with me in the library?”

In the end, they spent most of the day in the library. Tanner didn’t really have to work. His steward would have everything well in hand while he was away. He had to sneak this work into his bag to even make it out the front door without it being confiscated. The steward still sometimes acted like he worked for Tanner’s mother and not Tanner. Luckily he was able to bring something. Spending time with his mother was always a delight. But she had other responsibilities and he needed something to keep him occupied.

“Can you explain to me why Duchy Ahgren doesn’t pay the seasonal grain tax?” Eric had his own pile of papers to get through. He put down a pair of documents in frustration. “I’ve been trying to calculate how much I owe but Ludwig’s records from last year don’t include it.”

“What?” Tanner leaned over, looking at the papers Eric left on the table. Eric pointed to the space on one where there should have been a line item for the grain tax. Tanner was more than familiar with it. “That can’t be right.” Eric looked relieved.

“So I’m not crazy.” He picked up the paper again. “I know he wouldn’t be intentionally withholding from the Crown. I’ll ask him about it when I next see him.” Tanner nodded.

“I can help in the meantime,” Tanner offered. “My mother had me working on tax documents once I stopped spilling ink everywhere while writing.” Eric scooted his chair to the side, making space. Tanner moved his own chair so they would be right beside each other.

After that, they spent the rest of the week in each other’s company. Taking coffee or finding space in the library to read or work. Tanner’s mother even invited Eric to join the Royal Family for a private meal. It was a relief having Eric there. Tanner could never deny his mother anything. The children from the King’s first marriage were much younger and the last few meals he had joined had felt stilted at best. Eric had enough charm and stories of his knighthood to keep the table entertained.

They parted after the solstice. Ludwig returned to pick Eric up on his way home and Tanner would be needed at the border soon enough. It was foolish of Tanner to spend so much time publicly with Eric. Rumors were already circulating the castle. He knew better than to give the gossips anything to work with.

A week later, Eric arrived unannounced at the Eastern Keep, travel worn and distressed. Tanner ushered him inside and into his private study. It was good to see Eric again so soon. But the circumstances left him concerned.

“Ludwig says they haven’t paid the grain tax in six decades,” Eric finally revealed once Tanner closed the door. “He didn’t even know what it was. When he asked his mother about it, she just said that his grandfather secured an exception.” From his travel bag, Eric produced a series of letters. One opened from Ludwig, addressed to Eric. A sealed letter, presumably the same thing but addressed to Tanner. And a letter on brittle paper with the Seal of the Crown stamped on the bottom. A promise from a long dead king exempting Duchy Ahgren from the grain tax and a few other fealty requirements.

Eric was quiet while Tanner read all the letters. The one addressed to him was nearly identical to Eric’s. Only a line or two changed. But one line in both letters caught his eye.

“Duke Ahgren implies that other territories were granted similar exemptions,” Tanner finally said.

“The tax code is being re-ratified this summer,” Eric said. “It will be another five years before the rest of the nobility will agree to major changes. Unless we want infighting, we need to get this fixed before then.” Infighting would be putting it likely.

“Will we have Ludwig’s backing?”

“I have his word,” Eric nodded. “He wants to help but his questions have already ruffled a few feathers. I think we’re going to have to do this on our own.”

That was months ago. Their joint project in repairing the tax code and ensuring the nobility was contributing fairly to the kingdom kept them both busy.

One of the Lords that Tanner and Eric have been investigating corners Tanner amid a group. He’s old. Not old enough to have been granted the initial exception. Probably old enough that he knew about it. The conversation is tedious. Mostly complaints about local squabbles or new nobility.

“Ah, but you’ve been dabbling with the new bloods,” the man directs the accusation to Tanner. His tone is derisive.

“Have I?” Tanner feigns ignorance.

“Word has it you and that upstart little Baron are thick as thieves,” the man continues. “You might want to watch yourself. He’s known to be a bit oafish.” Years of training prevent Tanner from bristiling. He would tell the man off for insulting Eric but then he would just prove the man’s point.

“I really don’t know what you’re talking about,” Tanner denies. “Lord Morino and I are acquaintances, nothing more.” If anyone knew how much time they’ve been spending together, prying eyes might uncover their plans. If they’re going to fix the tax code, they have to prevent any of the more unruly nobility from interfering or stirring up trouble.

There’s a sound over his shoulder. Tanner turns to see Eric at the edge of the crowd, scowling.

“I won’t have it,” Eric seethes. Tanner hasn’t ever seen Eric this angry. They taunt and tease, sure. Playful jabs towards each other with no bite. Sometimes Eric blusters or feigns frustration. What he sees now is pure fury. Tanner isn’t unfamiliar with Eric’s vicious nature. He’s seen the other noble put a fair number of opponents down.

Having that rage pointed towards him is a different story.

“I am sick and tired of your behavior.” Eric pushes through the crowd until Tanner has to step back. The shorter man’s eyes are wild and wide. Tanner’s hand instinctively goes to his sword. Eric is a force to be reckoned with. If he wants to tear Tanner apart, he can. The defensive gesture only fuels the flames in Eric.

“Fine. Let’s settle this your way.” The crowd grows quiet as Eric tugs his glove off. Dread sinks in Tanner’s gut. Something terrible is about to happen. The white fabric hits the floor at Tanner’s feet. “Name your second.”

“Eric,” Tanner whispers. The man before him nearly snarls.

“Name your second, Margrave.” The emphasis on his title makes Tanner flinch. The crowd around them begins to stir. If Tanner doesn’t name a second, if he tries to reject the challenge here, he’ll publicly shame Eric. Technically he could. Eric is several ranks lower than Tanner in the nobility. The last time a baron successfully challenged a margrave was over twenty years ago. Tanner has brushed off plenty of foolish little usurpers before.

Eric is different. Tanner doesn’t want him shamed like that. It wouldn’t just be a blow to his reputation. His business and personal prospects would take a hit. Eric is too brilliant and has too much potential for Tanner to try and ruin him like that. So he needs a second. His eyes scan the room, trying to determine if there’s anyone nearby he trusts to handle the negotiations.

“Fir,” Tanner replies. Eric nods once, then turns on his heel.

“Have him speak with Lord Ahgren.” Eric says nothing else, leaving Tanner to pick up his glove and do damage control. He doesn’t know what he’s done to cause such a visceral reaction from his friend.

~~

The next day, Tanner is in his office when Fir arrives. The other man wasn’t pleased when Tanner chose him as a second. First because he doesn’t duel himself. And second because he continues to insist that Tanner might be at fault.

“I haven’t done anything wrong.”

“Tanner, he challenged you to a duel at the spring fete. I have a list of complaints from Ludwig right here. Would you at least look at it?” Fir holds out a folded letter, his face worried. Tanner takes the paper. It’s written in Eric’s hand. Not a letter from one second to another. A personal list of grievances. The longer he looks, the more he doesn’t understand.

“This is all a misunderstanding,” Tanner murmurs, going to his desk and pulling out a blank piece of paper. “I’ll clear this up, and you can take this to Ahgren. Stupid dueling etiquette means I can’t actually speak to Eric.” If they could just talk, Tanner is sure he could clear this up. He remembers their last spar on the dueling grounds at Morino Manor.

The tip of Eric’s blade pressed against his neck, unmoving and threatening. Tanner’s own sword resting above Eric’s heart, ready to plunge in.

A tie. Eric’s satisfied smile glowing with pride. Tanner’s heaving breath and knowledge that he’ll never have to worry with Eric at his back.

“You’re getting better,” Tanner says, lowering his own rapier. “Might actually beat me one day.” Eric’s own blade hovers near his neck for an extra moment. There’s a flash of something on Eric’s face, but he pulls away, sheathing his own blade.

Maybe that flash was the warning Tanner should have seen coming. He didn’t ask about it because he didn’t think it meant anything. He’s never been the best at understanding the small signals people try to send without actually explaining themselves.

So he should explain himself now. Tanner readies his writing tools and sets Eric’s letter to the side so he can reference it in his response. He’s about to start when Fir coughs. Tanner looks up and sighs.

“I’ll have this ready for you to take back in the morning. Thank you again for handling this.” Fir’s frown deepens.

“You can just apologize,” Fir offers.

”I can’t,” Tanner replies, already starting his response. “See you in the morning.” Fir doesn’t respond but Tanner does hear his groan of annoyance as he departs. Fir doesn’t get it. He’s not in an impossible situation. Tanner won’t disrespect Eric. And he can’t apologize without threatening the legitimacy of his claim as Margrave. Any weakness he shows is a crack at the foundation of the kingdom.

When his mother married the King, Tanner knew his life was going to get complicated. He was always preparing to take over the Eastern Borderlands. His mother was an excellent Margravine, seeking peace and compromise with their neighbors despite the history of skirmishes and disputes she inherited.

Everything Tanner learned, he learned from his mother. How to act like a Lord and say the right words to the right people. How to dance and eat in polite company. How to wield a sword, ride a horse, care for the people of their territory. And how to make the difficult decisions in the worst scenarios. She taught Tanner how to strike to kill, when the time called for it.

His mother taught him kindness and pragmatism in equal measure. Her marriage to the King was a love match. Tanner’s father is gone and the King was widowed three years ago. As much as Tanner didn’t want to take the title of Margrave quite so soon, the joy on his mother’s face when she spent time with the King was undeniable. He would never deny her the time to be happy after everything she’s done for him.

So he can’t apologize. Not without weakening the throne. Eric knows that. They’ve spent enough quiet nights working through the tax issue together, complaining about their own struggles, that he must. Hours spent poring over old records and outdated laws, heads bowed together while they tried to figure out what went wrong with the kingdom's tax code and how they can fix it for everyone.

Looking over Eric’s list again, he wonders if maybe it’s not dissimilar to that challenge. They identified a series of spoken agreements vaguely mentioned in some letters. Nothing codified but continued as a tradition through generations. It’s why some of the counties aren’t paying anything to the Crown. Which would have been fine, if not for the fact that those territories subsumed others over the years until a good quarter of the nobility were growing fat and happy with their wealth while other parts of the kingdom struggled to maintain roads or feed their people.

Tanner won’t ever forget the first time he saw Eric. The Baron was shirtless in the middle of a street, helping to level a road that functioned as a main thoroughfare through this territory. Eric was the type of person who cared and wasn’t afraid to get his hands dirty. He didn’t even inherit his title. He was awarded peerage as a reward for exceptional service to the Crown.

Maybe he’s been operating under an assumed understanding and Eric hasn’t?

~~

”The duel is in a week,” Fir says when he returns. Tanner groans.

“Did he have a reply to my letter?” Tanner asks. Fir winces.

“No. But Ludwig mentioned that he burned it.” Fir pulls out another piece of paper. This one is obviously written by Fir. He starts listing out the conditions and stipulations of the duel. “Sunrise in a week's time. Swords, per your request. Thankfully Ludwig talked Eric down to first blood.”

“Talked him down? Did he want to duel to the death?”

“Just to satisfaction,” Fir says with a grimace. “He’s really angry, Tanner.”

“Well, he wouldn’t have challenged me otherwise.” Tanner looks over to the empty chair in his office. The one he had brought up from one of the sitting rooms because Eric liked it so much. “Where are we meeting?”

“Royal training grounds,” Fir continues. “Public announcement of the duel the day before.”

“He can’t be serious. Does he think dueling in the capital will stop me?” Everything Eric is doing feels so out of character. Tanner remembers a level headed and kind man, not whatever madman has replaced Eric.

“No,” Fir shakes his head. “I think he wants to make sure this doesn’t get swept under the rug.” Tanner looks over the letter he’s currently working on. It can wait. All of this can wait. He stands, grabbing his dueling saber from the stand on the wall and nods towards the door.

“Looks like I need to get some practice in. Would you mind joining me?” Fir sighs again.

“If I say no you’re just going to beat the new recruits senseless. Let’s go.”

~~

The journey to the capital is a two day affair without hard riding. Tanner and Fir leave three days early. He won’t be called a coward for not showing up. The afternoon they arrive in the capital, Fir leaves Tanner to himself at the castle with instructions to stay in his guest room for the night. Tanner nearly obeys the instruction, but he forgot to pack any ink and needs to do something to keep himself busy. He steals out of the room and towards the library. There are plenty of spare writing supplies there that he can borrow.

His mother catches him rifling through one of the spare cupboards. She’s dressed more casually, with just the circlet that indicates her rank instead of her full regalia.

”Tanner, why are you dueling Eric tomorrow morning?” His mother has her arms crossed. Tanner had hoped he wouldn’t run into her while he was here.

“He challenged me,” Tanner explains. His mother steps closer. Tanner offers the customary bow to the Queen. She reaches out and pulls him into a hug rather than the traditional gesture of acknowledgment,

“We’re in public, Mother,” Tanner replies, a little exasperated. She’s the one who drilled courtesy and custom into him as a child. But he still hugs her back.

“And I’m the Queen. If I can’t hug my son in my own home, then what’s the point.” She releases Tanner and her smile fades. “So tell me again why you accepted a duel against one of your closest friends. You two were inseparable at the winter festival.”

“There’s been a misunderstanding,” Tanner starts. Then he winces. He needs to at least be honest with his mother. “I may have acted out of line.”

“That doesn’t sound like you,” his mother says softly.

“I’ve hurt him,” Tanner admits. “You know how I can be when I get… friendly.” Now his mother purses her lips.

“Has he insulted you?” Her tone is more stern now. The same tone she takes when negotiating against an invader.

“No.” Tanner shakes his head. “He’s done nothing wrong. I’m the one who hasn’t been treating him fairly in public. I thought I was letting him establish himself in the nobility. Make a name and reputation for himself. But some of what I’ve said publicly hasn’t been very favorable.” Tanner thinks of the last portion on Eric’s list of grievances.

The Margrave has repeatedly and in public claimed to be mere acquaintances with me, downplaying my role in the recent border quarrel and our long term partnership. Without a doubt, the Margrave is more concerned with his own reputation and being seen as a singular savant, never giving recognition to those who are integral to his success.

“Sweetie, you can just apologize.” Tanner gives his mother a look.

“We can’t get the tax reform through if I look weak,” he explains. “I’m the one bringing the proposal to the council. I’ll be dismissed out of hand if I don’t go through with the duel. You know this.” His mother lets out a sigh. “And if we don’t get this resolved soon, then people are going to die when the rainy season starts.”

“You’re a good man, Tanner.” His mother cups his cheek. “I’m so proud of who you’ve become. Don’t forget that you matter too.”

~~

The sun hasn’t risen yet. Tanner is fully dressed, waiting in his chambers for Fir. He sent one final message. He hopes Eric understands what he means. If they’re going through with this duel, he doesn’t want Eric to think he’s mad. The worst part of this whole situation is that he can’t bring himself to be angry.

There’s a knock at the door. Tanner calls out. Fir steps in, his own dueling saber at his hip. He watches the other man shake his head. No final agreement to put aside the duel. So they’re going to do this.

Fir leads Tanner through a winding path in the castle. He and Ludwig must have coordinated their routes to prevent the parties from meeting before the dueling grounds. Ludwig, or possibly even Eric, chose one of the training fields as the meeting place. It’s public. Not neutral grounds. Not with Tanner’s mother being Queen. But better than dueling in either of their territories. Tanner wishes they were back at Morino Manor. Things were easier there.

Instead, he follows Fir out one of the side doors of the castle. They’ll have to walk through the main garden to get to the training field. Fir stops when they’re between so large bushes.

“You know I think this is stupid,” Fir says.

“I do,” Tanner agrees.

“And I know you won’t apologize.”

“Correct again.” Tanner doesn’t know what Fir is trying to say.

“I read your response, before I gave it to Ludwig,” Fir finally says. Tanner expected as much. “You aren’t wrong, about most of this. But you are wrong about why Eric is angry.”

“He was perfectly clear why he’s angry,” Tanner counters.

“Eric didn’t list everything,” Fir finally says. “He listed the public grievances.” Tanner frowns. The list was something that would be perfectly acceptable if read out in public. “None of the personal ones.”

“There aren’t any. Not that he’s told me.” Tanner feels something sinking in his gut.

“Perhaps he expected you to read between the lines.” Fir sighs. “Tanner, have you considered that you might not have been clear with your intentions?”

“My intentions?” Tanner scoffs. Fir just levels a glare at him. The benefit of being friends with Fir is that he’s honest. He’s never been afraid to push back against Tanner.

“How many weeks have you spent at Morino Manor since the start of the year?”

”Only a few,” Tanner says. Then he starts doing the math. He returned with Eric to the manor after he brought news of the tax issue. It was an easy way to meet with Ludwig without drawing suspicion. Duty called him home to deal with an issue at the border. Eric followed a day later, under the ruse of assisting with the border. Better yet, he was an asset. Eric is likable. He might be a noble now, but for the last few years, he’d just been a knight errant. His experience with combat and people all across the land make him an invaluable ally.

Afterwards, they fell into an easy back and forth. Eric would return to his territory to work on an infrastructure project. Tanner would arrive in a few days, with supplies or some resource needed for the project, under the guise of trade. Then it would be Tanner’s turn to depart, to the capital or the Eastern Fortress, with Eric trailing just a few days in tow.

In the last five months, Tanner has spent more days in Eric’s company than alone. They’ve been constants with each other. He never questioned it. They have a tax code to rewrite. But how many times had they spent their days together without working on the tax project?

Early morning spars. Games of strategy in the library. Sometimes Eric would drag Tanner to a nearby town to show off some artisan or craftsman whose work he particularly liked. Tanner brought Eric to the small roadside inn that he regularly takes an extra three hour detour on his way home. Because they make Tanner’s favorite dessert and he wanted to share it with Eric.

“I’ve been a fool,” Tanner breathes. Fir lays a gentle hand on his shoulder, but gives him a knowing look. Fir won’t let him live this down. “I have to fix this.”

~~

The sun peeks over the horizon. Just a sliver of light. Tanner doesn’t care about the crowd. His entire focus is on Eric. The Baron is dressed in a similar fashion, simple breeches and shirt. Dueling sword at his hip. To his right, Ludwig whispers in his ear. Eric doesn’t even look like he’s listening. He’s just staring at Tanner.

“Margrave,” Eric calls. “I will accept an apology now. This doesn’t have to go any further.” Tanner hates how hard Eric’s eyes are. He didn’t expect it to hurt for Eric to look at him like that.

“I will not apologize.” Tanner chooses his words carefully. Eric’s face twists, “‘If you would like to take back your challenge, I am glad to put this behind us. You are a man of honor and I hold no grudge against you.” He wants to believe that the change in Eric’s expression means something. Tanner wishes they could just talk. Eric looks away and whispers something to Ludwig.

“The duel will begin on a count of ten,” Ludwig calls out. More to the crowd than to Tanner. Last night, he and Fir spent an hour going over the final details of the duel. Tanner takes his blade from his side just as Eric does the same.

Both Fir and Ludwig step forward meeting in the middle of the two combatants. Tanner follows three steps behind Fir, maintaining the appropriate distance. When their seconds meet, there are a few more whispered words. Both nod and step in separate directions, leaving Eric and Tanner alone in the middle of the field.

Fir counts to ten.

At three, Tanner adjusts his grip on his sword.

At six, Eric moves his feet, changing to a stance Tanner is intimately familiar with.

At eight, Tanner closes his eyes and breathes.

At nine, he opens his eyes. Eric is perfectly still.

The dull thud of Eric’s sword making contact with Tanner’s own happens so quickly after Fir says ten that Tanner nearly doesn’t have time to block. Eric steps away just as fast, not giving Tanner a moment to try and get a hit in.

Eric’s next movement is slower. Tanner is more accustomed to that speed from Eric. He’s still thrown off. Months of sparring against each other hasn’t prepared Tanner for the full force of Eric’s power. He thinks he should maybe be upset that Eric held back so much. Tanner was never bested in their practice bouts.

Could it be possible that Eric was always this much better than him? There’s no time for him to dwell on that. Eric continues his advance, never giving Tanner a moment to rest. Being on the defensive isn’t how Tanner prefers to fight. It’s too easy to slip up. No chance to use his extra reach as an advantage. He takes a few extra squick steps back, waiting for Eric to follow and finally returns a blow in full force.

Unsurprisingly, Eric blocks and dodges easily. Tanner tries to feint a few times, but Eric always sees right through him. The trick never worked on Eric before. He doesn’t know why he thought it might now.

A couple of times, they end up with blades locked at the cross guards. Tanner didn’t realize how much he misses being in Eric’s space. But Eric is supposed to feel like safety, not like danger. The feelings right now are all wrong.

In just a few minutes, they both grow tired. Trading this many blows is exhausting. Tanner can feel his sword arm starting to give way the next time Eric deflects a hit.

This whole time, Tanner has been stupid. All the time he and Eric spent together was more than mere friendship. At least for Tanner. He didn’t think Eric felt the same. If he thinks about the list of grievances that Eric wrote, a few of the items take on a new tone if he considers the possibility.

The note about being partners hurts the most. Every time Tanner distanced himself publicly from Eric, he thought he was protecting his friend. Protecting their mutual endeavor. Instead he was pouring salt onto a wounded heart. Tanner is a fool. His mother is right. She always is.

He needs to end this duel with both of their reputations intact. More than that, he can’t bear the thought of hurting Eric again. Tanner doesn’t even know if he even could defeat Eric at this point.

Eric’s next thrust should be easy to dodge. Tanner steps into the lunge instead of away. He drops his sword when Eric’s eyes go wide in shock as he slices a long gash along Tanner’s left side. Tanner keeps moving forward, using his now free hand to grab at Eric’s neck. Before Ludwig or Fir can announce the winner, Tanner leans forward and kisses Eric.

Another sword drops to the ground. Tanner can’t hear anything. His side hurts but Eric is grasping at his shoulders, keeping them both close. It’s a good thing because Tanner feels his knees start to tremble. Not because of the wound in his side. Eric kisses back with a fervor and intensity Tanner has come to expect from the other man.

“Tanner,” Eric breathes out his name as they part. “What the hell?” Tanner does his best to not wince at the pain in his side. Instead he forces himself to smile and maintain a courtly demeanor.

“You were right,” he replies. “I should have started courting you officially at the end of the Winter Festival. It would have saved you plenty of frustration.” Eric shakes his head.

”You couldn’t have said anything before I sliced you open?” Eric looks down and blanches.

”I only just figured it out,” Tanner admits. Then he leans forward, letting his lips ghost over Eric’s. “My apologies for taking so long to realize, Baron.”

“I won the duel,” Eric replies softly. “I don’t need an apology from you any more.” Then Eric kisses him, a slow gentle thing. Tanner feels like he might fall into Eric. The kiss makes his head spin. He wants to keep going but there are voices around then. Eric pulls away and Tanner remembers that they have an audience. When he tries to step back, his knees buckle.

Firm hands from behind hold Tanner up. It’s Fir. Eric looks terrified. Tanner finally looks down. His entire side and leg are covered in blood. That would explain why his head is spinning.

“Told you that you’d beat me eventually,” Tanner jokes. He tries to smile and reassure Eric, but the edges of his vision start to blur. The sun is fully risen. There’s not enough light for Tanner to see anything. He slips into darkness with Eric as the last thing he sees.

~~

The sound of his mother’s voice pulls Tanner out of slumber. His whole body feels heavy and he can’t quite get his eyes open yet. So he tries to focus on the words he can hear.

“You aren’t at fault for this,” his mother says. “I tried to talk him out of this last night and he still decided that a sword fight was the best way to resolve the problem.” The small huff she makes is a sure sign that Tanner is in for a talk on statesmanship whenever he’s out of this bed.

“I’m the reason he’s unconscious.” A second voice. Eric. “If I had just tried to talk to him about everything then-” Eric pauses for a moment. It stretches out. But the Queen is the most patient person Tanner knows. She waits. “I let my anger overrule my better judgment.”

“You were both in tricky positions. I thought I taught my son to talk first instead of resorting to violence. I think he might have kept going out of a sense of duty.” There’s another moment of silence. Tanner wishes he could move but he’s so tired. “Keep an eye on him for me. I’m needed elsewhere and I want to make sure no one tries to kill my son while he can’t protect himself.”

“Are you sure? I’m the reason he can’t.”

“There’s no one else I would rather have watching over him right now.” Footsteps fade. The only sounds in the room are his own breathing and the soft rustling of Eric fidgeting.

Finally, after what nearly feels to be an age, Tanner manages to open his eyes. Eric is sitting in a nearby chair, looking between Tanner and the door periodically. He would say something but his throat feels bone dry.

“Tanner!” Eric stands immediately, rushing to his side. “You’re awake.” One of Eric’s hands rests gently on Tanner’s left hand. It’s warm. ”I thought I might have killed you.” Eric’s words are strained.

“Still have to court you,” Tanner croaks out. Eric laughs. “Mother is going to lecture me on kissing you publicly before announcing my intentions.” The warm grip on his hand tightens.

“We’re a little unconventional, you and I.” Eric replies.

“I like that,” Tanner admits. Even speaking right now feels exhausting. He does his best to hold Eric’s hand, bringing it up to his lips. He allows himself to linger after placing a chaste kiss on Eric’s knuckles.

“Baron Morino, allow me to make my intentions clear.” Eric nods without speaking. “It is my goal not only to work with you to overhaul the tax code that is crippling our kingdom, but to ensure you are a respected member of the nobility in your own right. You deserve to be known for your own accolades. Not as someone who rides on coattails.” Tanner’s throat is dry. He leans down and places another small kiss on Eric’s knuckles again.

“If you can forgive my foolish behavior, I would be honored to accompany you at the June tournament as a suitor.”

“I’ll be competing in the melee,” Eric says. Even in the low light of the room, Tanner can see his face flush. “Shall I win for you?” Warmth blooms in Tanner’s chest.

“I expect nothing less,” he replies. “After your stunning performance today, I can’t have people thinking anyone but the best defeated me in single combat.” The smile that grows on Eric’s face is one Tanner will never tire of.

“You have a very funny way of flirting,” Eric observes. He doesn’t look upset. Nothing like the anger or frustration Tanner has recently received.

“Is it a problem?” Tanner doesn’t want to push Eric away ever again.

“I’ve had some realizations of my own,” Eric admits. “I should have spoken with you. Tried to understand what game you were playing.” Tanner tries to argue but Eric keeps going. “You’re always playing a game, Tanner. I spent too long thinking you were using me as a pawn. Nothing more than an asset. It was only this morning it occurred to me that you viewed me as a player instead. An equal.”

“Does that mean I can accompany you?” He needs to be sure. Eric leans over and gently kisses Tanner’s own knuckles this time.

“Margrave, if you don’t, I will challenge you to another duel on the tournament grounds in front of the King.”

“No need for that,” Tanner assures. “I’m quite satisfied with the result of our own bout.” With effort, he pushes himself up to sit on the bed. Eric frets as he does but doesn’t stop Tanner. Once he’s sitting, Tanner leans fully into Eric. Sitting up this soon was perhaps not the best idea. Eric’s arms are sturdy.

“Before your mother returns, could I steal another one of those inappropriate kisses?" Eric speaks the way Tanner remembers. From those quiet nights and busy days together. The soft delight of pleasant company and a closely held secret. Tanner tilts his head up to meet Eric's gaze.

"As many as you'd like." Eric kisses him and Tanner forgets the world.

~~

By all accounts, Tanner shouldn’t be in the royal box. He has no claim to the throne. He doesn’t want it. But his mother insisted he join her for the tournament. The King—his step father, he has to keep reminding himself—is friendly and inviting. The crown prince is a moody teenager seated to his father’s right. The two younger princesses are standing at the edge of the box, chattering excitedly about the events. Tanner still feels a bit out of place, but that’s the least of his concerns for the day.

The melee just concluded. Eric stands alone as the victor in the field. Tanner let out his own thrilled cheer when the final combatant fell. The Lady of Ceremonies presents Eric with the victor's laurels and a handful of delicate roses. He looks brilliant in the sun, armor gleaming and crowned in green.

Eric approaches the royal box, goes to a knee, and raises after the king addresses him. The two princesses squeal with delight as Eric takes a few steps forwards. From the flowers, he picks out two light pink roses, handing one to each of the princesses in turn. Tanner can’t hear what Eric says, but both of them squeal again. The youngest, Melodie, nods seriously at whatever Eric says next. Then she rushes over to Tanner.

“He wants to speak with you,” Melodie says conspiratorially. As if she isn’t saying it out loud for everyone to hear. Tanner smiles at the little Princess.

He meets Eric at the edge of the box. The elevated platform means Eric’s face meets his shins. Tanner considers his options for a moment and kneels down.

“Margrave, I have a token for you,” Eric announces. It’s much louder than whatever he said to the girls. Tanner leans forward, expecting Eric to hand him one of the roses. Instead, Eric removes the laurels from his own head and places them upon Tanner’s.

“All of my victories are your victories, Margrave,” Eric says. Tanner can hear the murmur of whispers, starting with the girls just to the side but moving like a ghost around the tournament grounds. In mere moments, everyone here knows Eric’s intentions. If they somehow hadn’t already heard about the results of their duel.

“As are mine,” Tanner replies. “I will gladly wear your token with pride.” Eric beams up at him and plucks another rose from the bouquet and lifts it for Tanner to take. This one is dark red. The message is clear. Tanner cups the blossom in his hand, bringing it up to his face to smell the sweet scent.

“I’ll see you at the feast,” Eric says. He’s glowing. Tanner is smitten.

Returning to his seat, his mother looks at him with pride. Tanner tries to fight back the blush he knows is growing on his face. He isn’t embarrassed by what Eric did. Moreso that his mother knows Tanner’s own feelings and she looks terribly self-satisfied. Tanner takes his seat and Eric shoots him one last smile, bowing to Tanner and then to the King before departing the field.

Everyone in the box is looking at Tanner. The King is holding his mother’s hand and looking on fondly. The Prince is feigning disinterest very poorly. The girls rush over to Tanner, giggling the whole way.

“Do you love him?” Melodie asks. Her older sister tries to shush her.

“I do,” he says with a small smile. “Don’t go telling him that, though. I need to be the first person he hears it from.” Both girls nod seriously. Tanner allows himself a moment to look down at the rose. Red like the blood Eric drew from him during their duel. Delicate like a friendship. Beautiful like the man who gave it to him. Tanner adds the flower to his lapel and makes his exit, bowing to all the right people and giving his mother a quick kiss on the cheek as he departs.

He has a Baron to woo.