Work Text:
Luke was pulling his tie undone, hot around his neck, fumbling in his flurry of frustration. He walked around the Great Hall, walked until he passed the crowd spilling out of the Hall, until the strings were just a faint buzzing, and towering pine trees cornered him near the perimeter of the Hall. He hated dances. It was Amatis who always urged him to go, talk to people, maybe dance with girls. He did none of the sort.
His pace slowed after turning the first corner, following the marble walls. There was a slight chill in the air now that he was out of the hot congestion of dancers. The path was dimly lit, the moonlight shining through the leaves.
He stopped when he saw a hunched figure sitting on the trim of the building, unfolding at Luke’s presence. The moonlight caught his silver hair, bathed the angles of his cheekbones in a pale glow. Valentine grinned, “Escaping so soon?”
Luke sat next to him. Valentine had also departed with his coat, vest and tie. His white shirt was translucent and open at his chest, faintly ghosting his musculature and the black runes sprawling like vines around his body.
“Out of everyone at the dance you’re the last one I thought I’d find out here,” said Luke.
Valentine shrugged, absent, “I wanted some quiet.”
“My sincerest apology,” Luke grinned, but Valentine looked at him.
“Don’t be. I was thinking about how I wanted you here. Being around so many people. It reminds you what are just distractions,” he said, “And what is important.”
Luke felt warm despite the chill. He leaned back, his head against the cool marble, the stars behind his eyelids. “I like when it’s just us.” He muttered.
Valentine hummed low in his throat.
The entire night Luke had watched Valentine dancing. Of course, Jocelyn had been the first in his arms. Then a few more had asked for a dance, and he was nothing if not chivalrous. Eventually, he lost track of him, and a lingering feeling made Luke feel ill during the dance. He hadn’t been asked by any of the girls, so naturally, he left altogether.
Luke grinned, “Got tired of the swarm of ladies?”
Valentine chuckled, deflecting, “They’re all very sweet. And you?”
“Oh you know how they are. Can’t get off me. Charming, poor, Lucian Graymark.” Luke chuckled to himself, “Amatis is going to be so disappointed when I tell her I didn’t dance with anyone.”
Luke met Valentines gaze again. There was a mischievous light in his eyes, a white grin on his lips. It was an expression he wore less and less, as the Circle became a more serious endeavor.
Valentine stood in one graceful movement. A hand behind his back, and one extended to Luke. “Then dance with me.”
Luke felt his cheeks get hot, he sputtered, “There’s no music,”
“Please, Lucian, I’m a gentleman, it would be terribly inconsiderate of you to force me to drag you into my arms,”
Luke stood up, taking his hand. Valentine’s grin was electric, Luke’s hand tingled where their skin brushed. He guided Luke into his arms, and they began to sway.
Valentine hummed slowly, a distant melody that echoed the whisper of a quartet far inside the building. The clouds shifted, glowing upon them, making halos of their figures, for one beautiful moment.
It was easy to follow Valentine’s rhythm. The dance was effortless. They were parabatai, after all. One whole split into two bodies. An uptempo song began, one that demanded long waltzing and fast steps. Luke found himself smiling too widely, laughing, reminding himself to loosen his grip and keep an appropriate distance.
Valentine spun him, and Luke was laughing, preparing his feet to land and bound to the next step, seeing as neither men had heels, so there was no need to shorten their long strides in compensation. But Valentine stopped him. His gaze was on Luke. There was something in his eyes that Luke had seldom seen before. He didn’t know how to name it.
Valentine shook his head slightly. “Lucian…” the name was soft and admonishing. That was what was in his eyes. “You are… everything to me,”
Luke felt how hot his face was. He tried to keep his tone light, and stuttered under the intensity of his presence. “You don’t even know what that means,”
No, there was no possibility that Valentine thought higher if Luke than he did him. Valentine had hung the moon, as far as he was concerned.
Valentine was so close in this embrace he’d stopped them in. His fair hair fell around his face, swaying in the breeze. He could see the discretion in the light of his eyes, how rich and brown they were up close, the angle of his cheekbone, the curve of his lip.
Luke fell into his arms, his chin atop Valentine's shoulder. They swayed with the breeze. Luke held him as tightly as possible. Aware that they were so close now, and mourning when they would have to part, and there’d be another long, long time when they would be worlds apart, only together in thought.
Valentine spoke softly, “I’ll always be here. No one comes before you, my Lucian. My parabatai.”
The thought of Jocelyn came to mind, her flaming hair, and arms crossed behind Valentine’s neck. Always in his arms.
Luke lowered his head into the crook of Valentine’s collar, breathing in the scent of pine and leather and cologne, and something entirely Valentine. They swayed, and Luke only held him tighter. A knot had built up in his throat. One that made him unable to speak back, a foreboding, rotten feeling like it would be an unkept promise, and maybe that chasm between them would build too greatly before they could meet again alone, enveloped in each other's embrace. So he did not speak, unable to voice it.
Valentine spoke into the air, confident, unyielding, “Always.”
And Luke almost believed him.