Keir frowned as he eyed his father's letter, which lay opened on the small desk at the corner of his chambers. Though the letter had arrive almost two weeks ago, Keir still struggled to find it within himself to reply. After numerous crunched balls of parchment littered the floor of his chambers, much to the distress of the maids, Keir almost gave up trying to write a reply that didn't sound insincere, though his insincerity was indeed incredibly sincere. Keir had given up on writing something heartfelt, and instead settled on being as formal and business-like as possible, the words coming much easier to him that syrupy words of forgiveness.

His father would have to find solace in the fact that Keir made the effort to reply at all.

His father's letter had been by no means soppy, though Keir could hear his father's underlying desperation to reconnect with him through the ink. Keir almost laughed at how alike they were, unable to express how they felt, resulting in awkward letters that didn't garner much eye-watering. Still, the two were making the effort to communicate, even if they only spoke about politics and mundane affairs. 

Keir's heredity was a constant theme in his father's letters, a topic that still made Keir squirm in discomfort. After seven years of accepting that he would never succeed his father's throne despite being his only son, suddenly having a crown shoved onto his head didn't make him sleep easily at night. Keir wasn't sure that he, the man he is now, wanted to wear that mantle, no matter how much glory and wealth came attached. 

Somewhere deep inside him, Keir knew that part of his reluctance to accept his birthright was because of his romantic preferences. He had seen countless marriages based on prestige and rank play out in courts in both the north and the south, and despite the vast land that separated them, they all sang the same bitter tune. These marriages always ended in cold beds, with husbands sneaking out to embed themselves in the bodies of other women, and wives spreading their skirts for the passions of younger, handsome men who were showered with gold and material wealth. 

Keir was well aware that he couldn't marry another man, if he even found one he wanted to share that bond with. As a King, he would be duty bound to produce an heir fit for the throne, and to do so he would have to marry some poor noblewoman and be forced to endure passionless sex in the hopes of impregnating her. Once that job had been fulfilled, and the royal lineage was preserved, he would likely never return to that bed, at least not with a woman. It would be a sour arrangement for both parties involved, and Keir was repulsed even thinking about living a life that bleak.

There were three things that Keir had found to be positive in his exile; his escape from his step-mother, the destruction of the burden that came with the crown, and his close friendship with Guin, that never would have developed to such an extent had he not lived with her for the last seven years of his life. He had lost his home, his father and his sister, but he had found other things that he never took for granted. And now, his father had seemingly taken one of those things away from him again.

Melting the stick of blue wax in the flame and pressing a large blob across the edge of his folded letter, Keir stamped it with his seal, and passed it to the courier that waited outside his chambers. For the third time, Keir had wrote to his father vaguely expressing his feelings about inheriting the throne, and he felt that he would soon receive the same reply from his father, neither openly rejecting nor embracing Keir's stance, the two of them locked in a cautious standstill. 

Rubbing his tired eyes, Keir stretched his long limbs as there were two heavy knocks on his door. 

"You may enter," Keir called, getting up from his chair as the door opened, revealing Lucas's clean-shaven face, which smiled at him. "Lucas?"

"Rose told me that you were busy writing a letter to your father, and considering that was four hours ago and the courier left only just now, I thought that you may be hungry," Lucas laughed, stepping inside Keir's room to reveal a tray of sliced fresh fruits and warm pastries, plus a pitcher of sweet-smelling wine which dangled dangerously from Lucas's curled fingers. Carefully stepping around the balls of parchment that were scattered across the floor, much to Keir's chagrin, Lucas placed the food and drink on a table, gesturing for Keir to come share the snacks with him. 

Of all the people in the castle, Keir felt that Lucas was the closest to being able to understand his trepidation about receiving his father's throne, though Lucas's situation was a little less rocky that Keir's own, considering he was marrying a well-regarded woman and wasn't worried about having to organise homosexual trysts away from his wife's bed. 

"Your father's still pressing you about the inheritance?" Lucas asked, pouring the two of them cups of wine, Keir gratefully downing one quickly. Lucas laughed as he refilled Keir's goblet, the other prince collapsing into the chair opposite him with fatigue.

"We're still stuck at the same place as last time," Keir groaned, passing Lucas his father's letter. Lucas quickly skimmed it, nodding his head every now and then, before passing it back to Keir, who threw it onto the table carelessly. 

"I can see that he means well," Lucas replied, Keir frowning, though he agreed with Lucas's words. "Is it the duty that you're worried about?"

"That's part of it," Keir replied, leaning his chin on the palm of his hand as he nibbled on some grapes. "You know about my exile, so you probably understand that it's a little hard to adjust from being the son that everyone tried to bury and becoming the next King of the nation."

Lucas nodded, already hearing details about Keir's past from Rose, though he hadn't been able to ask the prince himself about them. Rose only knew some of the details, though as a child she had pestered her father tearfully about why she couldn't see her brother, her father only giving her curt replies that all basically told her to not concern herself with the likes of him. Lucas's chest tightened as his fiancé grew close to tears every time she told him about those difficult times, and he could only imagine how hard it was on Keir himself, having been thrust out of his family so coldly. When he asked Rose about the reason for her brother's banishment, Rose could only shake her head. 

"Father never told me, not even after all this time," Rose said sadly, Lucas frowning. 

"He never told you about why he exiled his own son? Your brother?" Lucas asked, in utter disbelief. 

"No matter how much I asked, I always got the same answer. 'You are not to concern yourself with that, my dearest child,'" Rose said, deepening her voice to imitate her father's tone. Returning to her normal voice, Rose had sighed again. "After a few years of trying to find out, I gave up, though with Keir's recent absolution I am sure it had something to do with my step-mother. She probably used her dark magic to force my father to cast Keir out, though I don't know why. We shall probably never know what her cursed mind could have been planning, though I'm glad that her magic seems to have left my father, as Keir has now returned to us."

Lucas hadn't pried any further into the topic, as these were dangerous waters that were probably best left untouched. But as he grew closer to Keir, despite his better judgement, he found himself hungry to find out more about the prince's past. To learn more about the man he desired so terribly. 

Now, whether it be due to some sense of stability with their relationship or just the sweet lull of the drink, Lucas felt like he could probe deeper, to pull out whatever darkness Keir was confining within himself, a darkness that his own father couldn't bring himself to tell his own daughter.

"Your exile..." Lucas started, his eyes meeting Keir's in a silent question of permission. When Keir didn't stop him, Lucas continued, regarding his choice of words carefully. "If you are comfortable... if you need to talk to someone, I would be happy if you told me why you were sent to the north as a child. Of course, you will have my complete confidence, if you do wish to tell me. I will help shoulder your past, and I will not mention a thing to Rose." Lucas started to sweat as Keir remained silent, his face not betraying anything that he was thinking. Lucas began to quickly regret asking the other prince to disclose these heavy things to him, apparently over-estimating the closeness of their bond. 

'It's probably only me who feels so close to him, though my closeness is impure,'  Lucas thought, panicking slightly. 'If he draws away from me now... I don't think I could-'

"You don't have to look so worried, Lucas," Keir said, his voice soft as he gave the blonde man a small, sad smile. "We're almost family, after all." The word stung, but Lucas didn't let it show on his face. "It's the dark secret of my family, though only my father and I know. I... don't want Rose to know, it could break her." Keir's voice dropped to a whisper, as one of the candles in the room flickered out. Lucas didn't interrupt as Keir paused, trying to find the words he had never spoken to anyone. "I just want her to stay innocent." 

Lucas knew, then, about how much Keir truly loved his sister, his fiancé. Lucas felt like he was betraying Keir by wanting him, by lying to his most precious sister, and if he knew about Lucas's feelings he would probably scorn him forever. Lucas didn't know if he could handle that.

"I won't tell her anything," Lucas said, the serious look on his face making Keir give him a grateful smile.

"I know. I trust you," Keir replied, taking a long drink of his wine, hoping it will help loosen his tongue which seemed to struggle to speak. "I guess it's easier to start at the beginning."