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[ The roads to the Edge of the World are terrifying in their own right. The paths are narrow and winding, nearly nauseating for those who are prone to illness in motion - the trip to get Kyr down south, carrying Idris' child, was a long one, with extended pauses in inns along the way to allow him to stop and rest. ]

Are you ready?

[ His head turns, all coy little dimpled grin and narrowed eyes, scheming and impish. Their cart, luxurious and warm, is pulled by a team of wooly oxen, plowing forward on small hooves into territory they know well, and Kyr stands without as much as a wobble, bracing himself on his father's walking stick - habit, with its sculpted handle, normally used to pluck himself through ice and snow and rock. ]

We're almost there.

[ His hair is braided in fine strands, woven in an expectation of royalty, and his narrow shoulders are draped in wool and hide and furs. He reaches for a trunk, flipping the latch. ] I have a gift for you. [ Kyr draws out a set for Idris - they match his own, in color and texture, wolves' furs across the shoulders and long woolen cape, silver clasps. ] They'll keep you warm. And this...

[ He draws out a second walking stick, with its sharp point - his own's handle is carved into the head of a doe. Idris' is a stag. ] Was also made for you.

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[ Is he ready?

Ready to step foot in an infamously mysterious place, where outsiders just don't go? And present himself as a competent match for their ruler, who he'd accidentally bred, without turning blue or speaking through chattering teeth? Ready to make himself look like an entire idiot, since at this rate he'll be buried under at least twenty skins at all times? No. No, he is not ready. ]

Of course. [ His smile is tense, almost like a grimace, but relief washes over his face as soon as he's presented with the heavy cloak. It's a beautiful piece, though one he hardly gets to properly appreciate before he's wrapping himself in it and clasping it in place. The gentle weight of it around his shoulders presses a satisfied sigh out of him, because that's one more layer of protection between him and the cold that he knows is lurking outside their toasty cart. Waiting for him specifically. Maliciously.

Kyr presenting him with his own walking stick seems to surprise him. He'd assumed Kyr's was just a quirky accessory. ] No one has ever given me a stick before. [ He grins, reaching out to touch the carving. ] A stag? [ To match, he assumes? How damn adorable. ]

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[ Strange, isn't it? Kyr, so small and delicate and light, without a care in the world for the cold as if it doesn't seep into your goddamn bones and chill you from the soul outward and keep you icy forever. The walking stick is hewn from iron, shaft twisted into a subtle helix, with clawed feet. ]

Mm-hmm, a stick for you. [ He holds up his own, bumping the doe's head against the stag. ] Mine was passed down from my father. The doe was to represent my mother. Now, [ Kyr grins, mischief crawling into every little inch of his expression, the horrible creature. ] It's me. But they're commonplace here. They'll help you navigate the ice. [ He pauses and purses his lips, thoughtful, raising his brows as he regards Idris with sudden skepticism. ] Probably.

Relax. [ He closes the gap between them and takes Idris' face in his hands, leaning up to kiss the bridge of his nose. ] I won't let you freeze, I promise. We can stoke the fire in our quarters as high as you'd like. The whole castle, how about that. Damn them all, they can complain about it all they want, I don't care.

[ Look - some rules were just more considerate than others. It was a spectrum. ]

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[ He sees that skeptical look. Idris tuts, only partially offended at the lack of confidence.

Which, to be fair, is absolutely warranted. While he's lived through winter and snow at home, it has never been anything like this. He's never experienced ice in the same way that Kyr has, and he's sure to wipe out at some point. He can only hope it's not in front of anyone important.

The dainty kiss left on his face warms him as well as his new furs. He uses the walking stick to box Kyr in, laying it across the small of his back and holding either end of it in his hands. A most devious trap. ] Our quarters. That'll be nice. [ It isn't proper, is it? They haven't been officially wed here, but Idris won't object. He'd rather have the little imp by his side.

He's almost annoyed at how attached he's become to Kyr's presence... ]

All right, what other advice do you have for me? Aside from don't fall.

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Mm-mm, it will be. [ Proper? Eh. They're a wild people in a wild land that share beds for warmth. Official weddings don't matter so much here. Not really. There's a pack down south, a group, that pile together like wolves and no one much minds.

He laughs as he's pulled closer, draping his arms over Idris' shoulders to wind his fingers into the fur and lace them together, hanging lazily off him. ] It's okay if you fall, just don't break anything - either yourself or anything important. Everyone can be gruff and sort of... mm, chilly? Don't take it personally. Please let me know if you're cold. There are always more furs, more hides, and more wool - always, always. My throne is basically a nest for a reason. They might not seem excited to meet you - they're naturally suspicious and naturally uneasy about me brokering a treaty so suddenly, and I think they already doubt my monarchy, so... be gentle and make friends?

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[ It would make sense, if he stopped to think about it. Why stay separate when a pair (or more?) could bed together for warmth? And why place a heavy emphasis on stylish weddings when the weather and terrain would make travel and set-up difficult? A more relaxed atmosphere will be a nice change. Braiye is more traditional and showy, so they're both sure to get their fill of grand ceremonies regardless.

Idris listens and nods, poorly hiding a smile. He's entertained by Kyr's determination to protect him from the cold, which is fair enough. That'll be their biggest obstacle. Idris can handle the people... Probably... ] I should be able to manage. I made friends with you, didn't I? [ That might be a bad example? ]

Well- I won't be using the same strategy here, obviously. [ Mouth. Shut it. ]

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[ Kyr blinks those big, wide eyes at him and then bursts into laughter, loud and boyish and joyful - mother's mercy, he's always so joyful with Idris, who's become his better half in such a short time. ]

No, no. While polyamory is a common occurrence here, I don't know that I'm especially willing to share. [ Probably not. He's a fiery, jealous little monster of a boy. But maybe... well, not worth considering now. ] But you're wonderful, and I adore you, and... well, all right, I wasn't exactly elected by the people because they loved me. The lottery threw a thirteen year old onto the throne. But, chances are, they'll see you as a way to steady me and give this place a more even hand.

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[ It's absurd how his chest thrums from each affectionate look and bark of laughter he manages to steal from Kyr, but there it is again. He can't resist touching him- first his face, where Idris traces his fingers over a smile-rounded cheek, then he uses the hand to smooth down the furs around Kyr's neck and shoulders.

The motion stalls, just for a half-second, after Kyr speaks. Multiple mates is something that happens at times, sure, he's heard of it... But for it to be common and easily accepted, well. That's. A concept.

An interesting one that he stubbornly refuses to let himself think about further, because they're only just finding their footing as a pair, he can't mess this up. ]

I'll be fair, as I promised. [ He smiles reassuringly... And, of course, proceeds to tease further. ] Am I going to meet any suitors that you've been courting here? [ Because even though Kyr had said he doesn't like to share, that doesn't rule out Idris having to share. It's a joke, really, since nothing of the sort has been hinted at so far. But it's always fun to give him grief. ] Or any vicious advisors I should be ready for?

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[ Kyr is so startled he barks a bright, joyful laugh. ] Please, do you think anyone in this entire kingdom likes me enough to court me? Unless they're after the throne, absolutely not.

You, on the other hand, [ he runs his palms down Idris chest and then back up to cup his face and pull him in for a kiss, ] are going to be beloved, by both the people and my advisor, so prepare for that. You'll have suitors of your own left right and center to contend with, hmm?

[ He might share, with the right person or people, in the right context. Maybe. Kyr is prone to insecurity and jealousy, so it would have to be perfect... ]

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[ There could be someone awful and masochistic enough to pursue Kyr... Then again, isn't that what Idris has done? Accidentally, mostly... But he's done it all the same. Apparently he's the awful, masochistic one.

The adorable little kisses are worth it though, aren't they? He smiles, leaning forward to chase after the too-brief contact. Kyr escapes, and Idris protests with a huff. ] Mm. I can't, I'm shy. [ Fucking hardly.

He'd rather go back to contending with Kyr instead of the rest of the kingdom, though there evidently won't be time. A loud voice calls from outside, and the gait of the oxen seems to change. He looks up at Kyr, eyebrows raised in question. ]

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Oh, my God. Don't even try that, not a damn soul in the kingdom will believe you. [ He leans up and into the kiss as Idris chases after him, laughing, bubbly and joyful. He's excites, is the truth. He wants to show him off. ] And neither will I.

[ The pace changes as they slow their approach, and Kyr pulls back to look him over once more, beaming with some kind of silly pride. ] Mother's mercy, you are incredible, aren't you? Just be yourself. Hm? No trying too hard. This is a land of ferals that somebody put boots on.

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Don't try too hard, you say, right before telling me you're all a bunch of wildlings. That makes sense. [ He's grinning as he says it, obviously teasing... In all seriousness, though, if someone here goes truly feral and bites him, he will shit.

And probably bite them back.

And then a whole new war will start, probably. The War of a Thousand Teeth.

Idris is, in fact, an idiot, but at least he's an attractive idiot. He looks presentable, ready, but as soon as it's time for them to leave the cart, an icy breeze swipes across his exposed face and tousles his hair like it's out to bully him specifically. His eyes squint up from the burn of the cold, and already, whispered curses are spilling out of his mouth. ]

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[ Look.

Kyr doesn't mean to laugh. He doesn't, honest and truly! But Idris looks so personally offended by the wind and the cold and he's cursing and Kyr bursts into this bubbling, tumbling laughter, loudly enough to spark looks from the flanks of guards. He leans up to try to fix the mussed hair, but it... doesn't work especially well, which makes him giggle all over again. ]

You look ridiculous. I love you.

[ He's still grinning as he takes Idris' arm in one hand and the head of his doe in the other, using her tip to find footing on ice and cobble. There's no struggle, of course. He knows how to do this because he's been doing it since as long as he was little enough to walk at all, but he moves slowly.

A man the size of, roughly, a whole entire fucking mountain moves to flank Idris' other side without being asked to, his shoulders draped in two pelts to account for his size, and though it's to keep him from stumbling, to provide a tree-sized arm to hang onto, someone matches (normal-sizeD) on Kyr's end to make sure it's subtle. Quiet. The rest of them fall into formation behind and in front of them as Kyr turns and waves brightly to a flock that's gathered to gawk at this new person. ]

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[ Idris' scoff rolls out of him as a puff of frosty white air, yet he also bends, tips his head down to allow Kyr a better reach even if the effort is futile. ]

Good for you. I can't love someone who's so hateful to me.

[ Idris is also a big fat liar. The bright smile on his face exposes his dishonesty- Kyr's giggle is a pleasant little bell of a noise. He doesn't much mind looking ridiculous, if this is what he's rewarded with.

The mountainous guards have arrived, though, which must be their cue. Time to be serious, regal, all the kingly nonsense. He's used to that at least. All is going swimmingly, until one of his boots squeaks on a patch of ice and gives him a slide.

Just a little one... Idris uses his new stick (Kyr will certainly adore his own cleverness- but Idris is grateful for his foresight) as a brake and quickly jerks himself upright again, his death-grip around Kyr's arm loosening. ] It's fine. We're fine. [ ...And of course there's a whole pack of people looking at them. He stares right back, raising his voice to address them. ] Everything is fine, thank you.

[ What in the fuck. ]

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[ Look (again.)

The fact that the ONLY guard who's the size of the palace itself is on Idris' side, because he's taller than Kyr and larger and more likely to fall, and that it's decent enough a plan to have a giant to catch him if he does, means nothing. It definitely also doesn't mean anything that he extends his arm, calm as anything, so that - if Idris were to, oh, for example, keep sliding, he'd have something to catch him that is basically rock solid.

The guard on Kyr's side puffs a soft laugh, and then pipes up - ] We've seen worse. [ His English is rough and his voice is ragged, gruff and low and smokey, but he sounds reassuring as much as he can. ] Mind the stairs. [ The big one still doesn't talk. ]

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[ It for sure doesn't mean anything. Not at all. Just a funny coincidence.

In some fashion, he knows there are stairs there. He can see them, but what that means for him doesn't click until their existence is acknowledged aloud.

There are stairs.

There are *stairs*.

He stares at them apprehensively as the group nears, whispering: ] Fuck. [ All right. He can do stairs, he does them all the time at home... But he still tenses, squeezing his elbow around Kyr's before dropping his hand and lacing their fingers together as well. Kyr won't do much for him as far as physical support goes, but he helps with the mental aspect of it.

The behemoth next to him, he supposes, is there for the human-wall part of the equation.

Idris should be keeping his attention on the stairs, but his eyes keep straying- glancing stealthily (or not so much) at the massive guard flanking him. He actually, honest to god finds himself wondering if human beings can grow that large- there had to be some sort of mythological creature involved in the creation of this person. And the fact that he's a protector for pixie-sized Kyrnar? Bewildering. Absolutely fucking mind-boggling. How has he not been accidentally stepped on?

He looks between the guard and Kyr a few times, comparing them- and poorly stifles a snort of laughter at the unreasonable difference. ]

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[ Knowing, intellectually, that there are stairs, and then having to climb those stairs like Everest is another story altogether.

Now, granted, they've been kept reasonably clean of snow, and they've been coated with fine grit to provide some grip. These things are all true. But also true is the fact that they are still rocky stairs in an icy climate, and that there's only so much to be done to fight back against the Mother herself, so whatever.

The mountain reaches out to place his arm, instead, behind Idris - better to fall forward than backwards, it's not an uncommon source of accidental death around these parts. Kyr raises an eyebrow and chuffs with laughter again, his little wild giggle, and the guard turns his head askance to look down. ] What, goofy, [ Kyr would nudge at him, but they're climbing stairs (one step at a time; for once, the pint-sized tyrant is actually gentle and careful and mindful) and he would be poorly received by both kingdoms if he happened to send his lover down them, so he doesn't. ]

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[ Well, at least he's not overthinking their trip up the stairs. That's probably helping more than hurting.

He grins all crooked and mischievous at Kyr, murmuring quietly to him. ] You're so small. [ This isn't news to Idris. Kyr is still the same size that he's always been (at least for as long as Idris has known him), and there has always been a contrast between the two of them.

But this is different. Even Idris feels dwarfed by the guard, whose hands he is pretty sure are as large as a bear's paw. At least. ] Why do you need a colossus?!

[ Is he sure he doesn't want to throw Idris down the stairs? ]

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[ They reach the landing without any tremendous incident, which is good, because the timing lines up so that Kyr starts laughing again once they're on a) stable ground and b) the doors are opening to let them inside the castle itself, a huge, stony beast of a thing that's heated by fire and there are, God bless, carpets rolled out across the floors. Kyr is still cackling. ]

His name is Svanur. He was my father's other partner, and they trusted him not to let me fall out of any trees or down any cliffs. It was natural for him to take this post after he passed.

[ Svanur himself has stepped aside with the other, regular-sized guard, hands folded behind their backs like soldiers might. Kyr still seems to think this is the funniest thing in the world, and leans up to kiss Idris again. He thrives here, at home, in the frost. Horrible little creature that he is, it makes sense. ]

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[ Idris is briefly impressed by the fact that he's made it inside without bruising anything, but then he's swept up in Kyr's contagious laughter.

The explanation is sufficient, apparently, because he smiles. ] Ah... Fitting. [ The name is what he means specifically. Svanur certainly sounds like a hulking bear name, so that makes sense to him.

Or maybe he's simply unable to make any further comments or ask any more questions because his mouth is occupied with Kyr. He chuckles in to the kiss, settling his (sadly human-sized) hands at Kyr's hips. He holds him there, keeps him locked in the kiss so he can lure extra affection out of him like the greedy brute that he is.

He'll allow them both to breathe in a moment... When he pulls away, he finally takes a glance around the unfamiliar castle. And abruptly lets go of Kyr, walking away from him with excited (relieved?) steps. ] Carpets!

[ Poor Kyr. Abandoned for rugs. ]

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[ Kyr cackles again, bright, as Idris pulls away and gleefully traipses off along the carpet without fear of falling and leans into the doorframe, arms folded over his chest, fond and soft. He doesn't seem to mind being abandoned. ]

It's as much your home as it is mine, so... [ He waves a hand as if to gesture him to go on ahead, then tails after him toward an enormous foyer. There are branching staircases that spiral up to either side in grand swoops, leading off this way and that, and up a second set of (carpeted!) stairs lies the throne room, its walls lined with trophies of great hunts... and of great battles, stolen banners from conquered cities.

Kyr's throne is a nest, meticulously cast and worked silver and cushion draped with hides and furs and weaves, the kind of thing that... actually, he'd last left it already carrying Idris' child, so it makes sense that he'd nest, doesn't it? But there's a second, right next to it, for Idris. This one is not piled with blankets. But it could be. ]

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[ The foyer offers a lot to look at, too much to really take in with one single pass, but Idris does his best. He's quiet, admiring and evaluating the differences between both of their homes. Despite the bitter cold outside, here it's lively and warm. Or maybe that's his mind manipulating him- he knows this is where Kyr has ran about from toddler to teenager, and perhaps that's why he's instantly fond of the place. ]

It feels nice. [ Comfortable, like he could easily fit here in a nest-throne right alongside Kyr.

He pauses a few steps up one of the wild staircases, turning to look back. ] Here. [ A hand reaches out, waiting to hold Kyr's. ] Stay with me. If I get lost, you might never find me again. [ And certainly no one wants their halls haunted by a lonely cranky Idris. ]

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[ Kyr is laughing, even as he takes Idris' hand and laces their fingers, tailing along after him at a brisk trot.

Behind them, Svanur steps forward, bear that he is, his axe thumping against his armored thigh. When he speaks, despite size and strength and general presence, he's quiet when he speaks, a low rumble like distant thunder, but he's impossible to understand and it isn't even a common tongue.

Kyr holds up his hand, but it's gentle, like one might soothe a horse, rather than the entitled "hush" of royalty. ] No, no. We're all right. I trust him, mm? [ He gazes up at Idris, all aglow and in awe of him all at once.

Svanur nods, once, and steps back against the wall. Kyr grins. ]

Now. Shall we?

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[ At first, Idris doesn't register what he's hearing as speech- not until Kyr responds in his consoling sort of way. It takes another moment for him to realize Svanur is concerned about him, as if he's the threat here.

And, well. That's alarming. It's not every day that Idris is viewed as suspicious by someone who could crush him like parchment.

His eyes widen briefly, hand squeezing on to Kyr's, until Kyr assures Svanur that all is well. He allows them both to remain there for a few extra seconds, just to make sure that Svanur can see his bear cub is fine and all is well, before continuing to lead Kyr up the stairs.

Once Idris is relatively sure they're out of earshot, he whispers: ] He takes his job very seriously.

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[ Kyr smiles, easy, leaning into Idris as they walk a long hall built from sea-smoothed stone, iron sconces lining the walls. ]

In fairness to him, he's seen both my parents - so his best friend in my mother and his lover, he was my father's - killed, and several failed assassinations on me, plus there was an attempted coup at some point when I was quite young. The crown didn't even fit on my head yet so they'd put it atop the throne.

[ He shrugs fondly, ambling lazily along, their fingers laced and his other hand tucked just beneath the gentle swell of child to cradle them. ] He'll adore you once he relaxes.

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[ Idris subtly trails them both closer and closer to one of the walls, until he can reach his unoccupied hand out to drag his fingers along the cool stone while they walk.

Upon reflection, Svanur's protective nature is fitting. In a sense, he's the only family Kyr has left... He's been with him through diapers and too-big crowns and all. And after seeing so much death and then attempted murder on a child, Idris supposes he'd hold the same sort of worry.

He'd thought he'd gotten off easy... No in-laws to win over and impress, but apparently not. He's got a Svanur to win over instead.

Idris chews at the inside of his cheek, thinking. ] Do you think he's ready to chase another baby around? [ A whole nother round of tiny-Kyr... After a beat, though, he asks another question- more serious than the last. ] Was he upset? [ Over, well... the news. ]

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[ Kyr laughs again, tossing his head back and his braided hair with it. ] He wasn't -- well, that's not true. He was, but sort of an internal personal sort of upset, does that make any sense?

[ He seems to realize here that this requires background. ]

My parents weren't mated, they're both alphas. So Svanur was my dad's mate but he never got... you know, the whole family thing? He's excited. Worried about me, of course. Obviously. But I think he's ready to keep pace with a tiny monster, too. Looking forward to it.

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[ He never knows what to expect with Kyr. Hadn't even realized two alphas could produce healthy children, nevermind a very lively and very fertile omega. It's likely due to upper-class superstition and all, but it's things like this- sneaky little peeks in to his past, his present, and his preferences- that really stoke Idris' curiosity.

Svanur is an additional intriguing figure, one that Idris will surely end up "stealthily" watching, but for now his mind hones in on something else. ] Where do you stay? [ His fingers squeeze Kyr's, giving their joined hands a light-hearted little tug, before asking- ] Can I see? [ Permission is of course necessary. He knows some omegas are protective over their space, and he for sure would rather not catch the wrath of a nesting one. Tiny as that wrath may be... ]

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[ The familial dynamic is a confusing one - one of pack more than singular bonds. It had been an arranged marriage, as things often were, and Kyr's mother had been much like himself: whip-smart, sharp-tongued, opinionated. His father's looks, but his mother's personality. ] You mean where are we staying, [ he corrects it with a cheeky little tsk, grinning at Idris as he tugs him down the hall at a brisk trot.

Well. So much for protective over his space.

It's, of course, sprawling quarters, once they reach it - stone lit bright with natural light and oil lamps, a heartily stoked fireplace to keep them warm, bed laid over with furs upon furs. He's a bit of a magpie, but not for jewels - he seems to collect interesting rocks, a stick that he thought looked like a camel from a far-off land (it does not, but he's committed.) Funny little clasps and things he'd found in the snow as a child. Trinkets, items, gifts he's been given over the years from peoples and diplomats. ]

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I was hoping you'd decided you liked me enough to let me in. [ He laughs as he hurries along behind Kyr. He doesn't have to try quite as hard due to his own longer legs, but he's a good sport about it.

The room itself most definitely reads as Kyr. It's warm and heavy with his scent, making Idris immediately as fond of the place as he is of Kyr himself. There may not be heaps of jewels decorating the room, but the way the fire and lamp light play off the shinier stones and trinkets, it works just as well. He grins, walking slowly, browsing along Kyr's collection of things. ]

Oh, all I have to do to keep you happy is bring you rocks?

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[ Kyr grins at him, finding a spot to plop down on the edge of the bed. ] It's not all rocks. I'll have you know there's at least one brooch over there that still has silt between the gem and the backing because I could never get it out. It gives it character, no?

[ Yes. But also, no, and why is royalty collecting garbage, anyway? ]

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[ That's the secret. Give Kyr rocks, get sticks in return. He understands the exchange process now. ]

Correction, then. Rocks and dirt. I can find plenty of that, you'll never fall out of love with me. [ That stupid grin. At least Kyr doesn't have to look at it, because Idris turns and browses, searching for the brooch being gossiped about. And when he finds it, or what he thinks may be it, he huffs a soft laugh.

His mate is a scavenger. What in the world.

He returns to Kyr, leaning down close to whisper like he's sharing some grand secret. ] I don't know if anyone has told you this yet, but royals are supposed to collect pretentious jewelry and dead animals. [ Idris may tease, but he finds this... charming? And inspiring. He already has ideas of things that Kyr may like, and though he's in no hurry to leave, he'll be excited when they return south and he can present Kyr with odd little gifts. ]

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[ Rocks, sticks, trinkets. Like a little bird, collecting things that he thinks are nice. It's a product of so much time by himself as a child, tottering over river and cliff and boulder, wading through icy rivers even before Svanur was there to wander after him and make sure he didn't fall into them and drown.

Kyr laughs and steals a too-long, too-hungry kiss and then flops back onto the bed, and when he sprawls on his back, arms stretched above his head to stretch like a cat after their lengthy ride, the gentle hill of his belly makes itself known. An unfortunate result of size, mostly - as small and thin as he was, their little one sat low and forward, and it probably makes him look further along than he is. But he doesn't mind. ]

I'm not a very good royal, am I? I didn't even want this job! [ But he's grinning, still, eyes closed as he tips his head back. ] Should've been a rock collector.

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Then why are you marrying another royal?! [ He's going to be pulling double duty!

Well, not really. Idris has already vowed to take care of the dirty work- he simply likes to aggravate.

With the frail, familiar body stretched and splayed out before him, of course Idris can't resist bracing himself over it. He dips down to nestle a kiss in to the hollow of Kyr's throat, then strays south. He bumps and nuzzles his way down Kyr's torso, his hands leisurely wandering and kneading along at the same pace. ] I could make a law for you. Every citizen will have to treat you like a little dragon and offer you shiny stones. If you don't like the gift, then you may eat them. [ Good god. ]

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Because, [ Kyr grins up at him, stretching underneath him, sighing a keening little noise into the touch; his toes curl into his boots, his back arches, and he shifts furs and wools out of the way of Idris' warmth. ] I happened to fall head over heels with one and I don't think I had much choice in the matter, my darling. You're just that incredible.

[ Sappy little goblin, sometimes. As cold and sharp-tongued as he'd been, he seemed to have been... tamed, somewhat. Still a menace, but controlled. ] Bring me a pretty rock or out of my throne room, is that it? I suppose I could designate a wing of the castle for them...

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[ Kyr seems restless with all of the material between them both. Of course Idris will help! He peels layers and layers of clothing open, to the side, up- never fully removing any, but absolutely shoving it out of the way of his hands and mouth.

He breathes a laugh against Kyr's no longer flat stomach. ] You might as well. There are rooms in mine that I never open, damned if I know what's in them anymore. Why not fill them with dragon hoard.

[ Idris grips Kyr behind both knees and pulls him across the bed to where he wants him- where his legs dangle off the side and his ass rests right over the edge. Naturally, Idris ends up kneeling on the floor directly in front of him, bumping his head against one of the skinny thighs affectionately. ] How rude would it be if we were to temporarily disappear? Rest in here for a while. [ Rest. Ha. ]

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Probably quite rude, [ Kyr says it languidly, wrapping his legs around Idris, ] but you say that as if anyone expects anything else from me.

[ So he doesn't care, is what he means. He glances out the window near his head to gauge the time, able to do so by sun and wave and tide alone, and then he rumbles a quiet little laugh. ] We have time before the ships come in, and before dinner. I'm just saying.

From:

Thank you for training others to have miserable expectations. [ It works in their favor! He gets to have Kyr all to himself for a while. He marvels for a moment at the sight of Kyr laid out with his head tipped back, examining the sea that he reminds Idris so much of.

Once it's confirmed that they have time, Idris smiles and, still on his knees before Kyr, begins to make quick work of every stitch of clothing covering him from the waist down. ] Good. The entire last half of this trip has been unbearable, you know why? [ Regardless of the answer, he's going to tell him anyway... ] I've been dying to get my mouth on you, and I've never been able. [ Whether due to the size of the cart, or not enough privacy, or the both of them simply being exhausted and tangling together in a rented bed for a few hours of heavy sleep.

The injustice. Nearly downright abuse, in his opinion. ]

From:

[ Kyr still has his eyes closed when the horn sounds outside, his hair mussed terribly and his clothes thrown... wherever. That wasn't important. Obviously. ]

We're late, [ he sounds terrifically unconcerned about this as he rolls over to fold his arms on Idris' chest, placing his chin atop them and staring at him with wild, snowy eyes, a glitter of mischief and satisfaction. ] Not that much, though.

From:

[ The universe loves to deny Idris, just to watch him squirm.

The sound of the horn has him lifting his head quickly, squinting towards the window with a look of confusion... And then the word late makes him deflate. ] Already?! [ But they just... He didn't even get to...

He groans grumpily. He still wants to say Fuck It All and ignore the horn- if they're late then they're fucking late, who's going to argue with them? But he's been too well-trained. A bit of tardiness is forgivable, but there's not nearly enough time for Idris to do all he wants.

What is that look in Kyr's eyes? It's too playful. His own frown and stormy stare would likely cause worry for anyone else, but Kyr has surely been around him enough to know he's safe from Idris' moodswings and sulking. ] You aren't cute, you aren't funny, and you'd better not be enjoying this. [ In other words: he is cute and funny and yes, Idris knows he likely is enjoying this. ]

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January 2022

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