Opportunistic Omnivore: Scavenging the Remains of the Divine || OxO || Closed || 18+

"Really?" Sláine hadn't paid much attention. "I've never been to a Fae celebration, but I hear that they can go all out sometimes. Caoimhe and I have been talking of going to one sometime. In disguise, of course." There was no telling how the Fae would feel about two witch princes crashing their party. They might not care, but they might also be rather upset at them.

Now that he had a topic on his mind, the prince was awake and focused on Eurion. The blush had all of his attention, but he pretended that it didn't for both of their sakes. This… this meant nothing. The assassin had simply needed comfort the night before, and that extended into the morning when the both of them realized just how much they craved the warmth of another. Nothing more, nothing less. Sláine shouldn't be finding anything endearing about Eurion, or focusing on how the man's skin was so soft and warm beneath his touch, or how he could feel the man's breath on his chest through his shirt. He shouldn't be dreading the moment Caoimhe announced his wakefulness, which would trigger the need to separate and act like the complete strangers that they were. But they didn't feel like such strangers. Sláine had the overwhelming urge to protect the assassin from his patrons, to somehow sever the deal they had to get the Gods to leave him the fuck alone. He shouldn't be reacting so strongly to Eurion, but he was, and he couldn't help it.

Eclipse. Does he have an interest in the night sky? The prince sought out everything he knew about the topic, to provide something to talk about that wasn't solely reliant on Eurion. "Our people here have festivals too, but our traditions lie more around legends and storytelling than feasts and new beginnings. Lots of constellations and stars are centered around powerful people, like a remembrance of them. There's one constellation, the Great Hound. An ancient vampire mercenary that did many terrible things, until he was killed in battle, and he became the first hellhound. Servant of Death himself, called Cain for the nature of his sins." Sláine grinned a little, and dropped his voice to a conspiring whisper. "His daughter calls him Papa, and he's utterly devoted to his husbands. It's the cutest shit."

Ridiculous was the right word for it. When the twins had met the surly vampire, Kade had been wholely attentive of the small High Witch and spoke fondly of their Fae husband. It was a brief meeting, filled with Azriel huffing and puffing about how the witch had supposedly fucked his boyfriend. Sláine hadn't known what to do, as he had never seen his cousin so fired up over something, but Finn had only been amused by the situation, albeit a little defensive over the accusations. However the stories painted the vampire, Kade hadn't done anything to be a threat. Still, Sláine didn't want to cross the man.

As Eurion talked, the prince listened intently with a small smile dancing on his lips. An absurd thought popped into mind, and it jumped from his tongue without hesitation regardless of the implications it might have. "When is the eclipse? We should go to one of the festivals." It would be a break from the Gods for the assassin, and a connection to his Fae roots. But it would also be a source of fun for the witches, and an experience that likely none of them have had before. The twins loved nothing more than a good party to drink and dance at, and Aideen's only experiences with festivals and parties were the ones that Caoimhe attended.

He pictured Eurion at one such festival. Would he be dressed up for the occasion, or lurking in the shadows to avoid detection? Would he be coaxed to stay at the prince's side? Or maybe Sláine would want to stand back and watch him let loose on his own, comfortable with his people. Curiosity got the best of the prince, and so many scenarios passed through his mind; which meant that the idea of attending the festivals only solidified into his mind. Fuck the Gods. It would be nothing more than a pit stop, really. A small break, or even an excuse to find information hidden in the nooks of Fae lands. Excuses could be found anywhere if one looked hard enough—the twins were well versed in excuses for their shenanigans.

They'd of course have to mask themselves, and Aideen too. Twist their magic to make them look Fae to fit in. But the prince didn't mind it as much when the thought of fun came into play. And Eurion. Eurion having fun. Eurion not afraid, even if for a few hours at a time.

When he felt Eurion moving his head, Sláine lifted his own to make it easier to look at one another. He didn't like the eyes he was being given this time. They weren't filled with a seeming drunkenness of comfort, but tinged in fear and worry. The prince wanted to erase that look, just as he had erased the one from last night, but this time the origin had to be pinned onto him for bringing up something that would reasonably worry the assassin. He could see every thought crossing the man's mind, even if he didn't voice the entirety of them. What he did say was enough, though, and Sláine addressed them one at a time—the second one was easy enough. "Aideen can be made patient. She's as guilty of being a scoundrel as you are, and can be as patient as you if she needs to be." It's how she caught you, he didn't add, but the silent addition sparkled in his eyes. Humor might not be the best choice at the moment.

And as for the first worry, the prince shifted, sliding the hand on Eurion's face down until he caught the assassin's chin in his grasp and tilted his face up so he couldn't hide away. Of course, he refused to acknowledge how his thumb bumped against Eurion's bottom lip. "They chose you," he murmured. "They chose you for a reason. They send messages to you for a reason. You have done what they ask for. If they cut you down after all you've done for them for something as stupid as a slight delay, then that makes them cowards." Provoking the Gods? Perhaps not a good idea, but in his lifetime, he came to realize that challenging someone with an accusation such as cowardice tended to work in your favor, at least once. "Such powerful beings being so afraid of their sword defecting for a festival? Sounds like cowardice to me. If you were so easily replaceable, they'd have many more in the world fulfilling their dirty work."

The prince scanned Eurion's expression for a few seconds, tawny eyes full of galaxies that seemed to rumble with a silent storm. No matter his feelings on the Gods, though, his voice was soft and gentle as he spoke again. "But we don't have to go, if you don't want to." He'd never mention it to his brother or Aideen. They'd never have to know of this conversation. He'd respect Eurion's choice in the matter without hesitation or question.

It wasn't hard to see that Eurion wanted to argue. His expression practically screamed it, and the prince had the mind to consider letting go and letting the topic die right there. He knew it was a risk to detour without real reason besides some time to relax. And he also knew that Eurion, ultimately, was the only one to truly know the extent of the Gods' wrath. Sláine could be wrong, and they wouldn't take the bait to his declaration of their cowardice. They might strike the assassin down the moment the group stepped a single foot off course, angry that they were being made to wait, and the prince might not be able to protect him in time.

Ask the Middle, his thoughts whispered, ask the drōg to bless him. Sláine batted those thoughts away.

He didn't think that Eurion would say yes, but he saw the moment the assassin was worn down by the slightest shift in expression. How the man looked him up and down and submitted to the prince's hold, and the bubbling eagerness starting to shine through. Sláine grinned as if he won some sort of prize. "One night it is." One night of revel before they set off properly to uncover the schemes of the Gods and the purpose Aideen must have connected to them. One night of drinking and food and Fae delights. His joy cracked for a split second, though, as his eyes left Eurion's.

Sláine felt the shift before it appeared. He moved to block the assassin just as an object flew through the wall, similarly to how the chicken had appeared in the dead of the night, and let go of his face to swat at it before it hit either one of them. It was a pillow, seen as it bounced harmlessly to the floor after the prince's counter. "I'm going to fucking kill him," Sláine muttered, just as laughter identical to his voice filtered through the walls. Relaxing back down to the mattress, he looked back to Eurion with a heavy sigh, the arm still around the assassin's waist holding him firmly in place. "Should've let you go through him."

Sláine made a noise of disgust at the thought of getting up. He always hated the process of mentally saying goodbye to his bed, his comfort zone, and resigning himself to inns and the earthen floor. But this time, he hated what it meant. Leaving Eurion, the quiet and cuddly Fae terrified of the Gods, and once again facing his assassin. The prince wouldn't be able to just grab onto the man whenever it seemed like Eurion needed it, or fold him into his arms in the dead of night. He wouldn't be able to have the privilege of being looked at the way the assassin had done so earlier. It was shitty, but such was life. Connections never lasted long in the grand scheme of things, no matter how much you wanted things to stay the same.

Still. One last indulgence. Maybe he would be able to get Eurion's mind off of the Gods for even just a short while.

The prince had a spark of mischief in his eyes right before he moved again—except this time, it was to roll on top of Eurion. He held himself up off of the man, of course, but his grin was back with a flash of his canines. "Bit of free advice: brace yourself now while you can. We're a bit of a handful." Probably why his cousin didn't care that they were leaving. A bit of quiet within the palace would do the king some good, especially with how the nobles weren't happy with him being the ruler rather than one of the twins. Sláine knew he was tolerable enough right now, if a bit excited for the festival and putting it on to distract Eurion, but he was self-aware enough to know that he got worse in the presence of his brother. And Aideen would make it her mission to piss off the assassin at least once a day.

Oh. Sláine was delighted. Had he been given the time, he was going to get off so that they could start getting dressed and ready to leave. Eurion's statement about them being insufferable just made the prince snicker, unable to defend himself and unwilling to defend the other two. He knew it, just as everyone else did. There was no denying how easy it was to recognize how insufferable the twins could be. Adding Aideen to the mix had only amped up the antics even more, thought Caoimhe tended to be a frequent target of his guard and was more occupied by fending her off than his usual terrorizing.

But then hands on his chest distracted him, and he was flipped with ease. Eurion stared down at him, saying something—but he was smiling. Sláine blinked up at the assassin as he tried to peel his gaze off of the man's lips. His own smile was broken up by him biting the corner of his lip, as if he could somehow suppress it that way. "Oh really?" he challenged, finally able to look up and meet Eurion's eyes. His arms lazily rested above his head, wrists crossed, as he let the assassin keep him trapped beneath him. "What makes you say that? I'm innocent."

Maybe… maybe he could steal this Eurion away for himself. Maybe he could wrangle it into some way that he could have the assassin to himself, and they could go back to this. The comfort. The seeming familiarity between them. The assassin that would curl up into his chest. Maybe he could keep bringing it back, even if he knew it would ultimately kill him to part ways afterwards. Eurion wouldn't want to keep up contact once the whole thing was over, and they didn't need each other anymore. But Sláine was never one to coddle himself, and maybe that was a bad thing, because he set himself up for pain. He'd take it, though, just to steal away moments like this.

"An ass?" Sláine was having far too much fun for it being the morning. The prince arched his body as if meaning to buck the assassin off of him, but didn't, just dramatically huffed and dropped back to the mattress. He couldn't even muster up a false look of offense, his grin bullying itself into place and refusing to budge. "You wound me; I've been nothing but a gentleman."

He liked this. He liked Eurion laughing and smiling as he teased the prince, straddling him as if uncaring of the position they were in. Weren't they supposed to be getting up to start getting ready to leave? He'd forgotten already, and quite frankly didn't care to remember. The last time Sláine had felt this comfortable and happy with a person, it had been ages ago, and it was a fleeting moment of his life. One little thing destroyed it; gone, like dust in the wind. The prince wanted Eurion to stay just a little longer, to be a slightly larger impact in his life, but he knew that was wishful thinking. They had such different lives that it was hard to see them ever overlapping long enough to matter.

But for now, he'd enjoy it. He'd tease and comfort and give the assassin the joy of a festival while he could, and enjoy it to the fullest.

And maybe the looks he was giving made things difficult for them both, but he was a man that tended to want nothing, until something came along. He couldn't help himself. The prince had no idea what exactly he wanted with the assassin, but he did know he liked this, and that's what he wanted to keep. Selfish. He was beyond selfish for it. Eurion was his own person, with his own wants, and didn't have the obligation to cater to Sláine's wants. The prince really had no right to be doing anything that would complicate things or put pressure onto the man. Fuck, had he been doing that all along?

The prince had never really liked titles, a big reason why Aideen hardly used them with the twins unless it was to be snarky. But his eyes scrunched up in amusement when Eurion did it. Your Highness. He had called him such the night before, when telling him his name. Maybe it was the fact that the assassin tossed it out there carelessly, heedless of the weight behind such a title. He certainly didn't hold that same respect at the moment, comfortably seated on Sláine's lap and holding him down. And the prince shouldn't have enjoyed it as much as he was.

Among those within the palace, it was no secret that the royal family was rather forgiving with people considered to be "scum" or lower class, undeserving of the time of the royals and high society. One of the many complaints the noble families had about Azriel, how he "allowed" the tomfoolery to persist. But they hadn't touched on assassins, that was for sure. They were old news, just yet another thing to deal with and move on from, but they weren't people that they regularly took to bed. Even Sláine making him the tea, giving him the prince's bed, all the forms of comfort he provided that ultimately led to this moment would be frowned upon. But he didn't care. The prince was someone that believed in the stories of perfect matches. Perfect friends, perfect lovers, perfect family—not necessarily blood related. The kinds of connections that just clicked. Eurion had shown up to kill him, but was now smiling and laughing and calling him an ass. There had to be something to be said of that.

The prince tossed his head back in mock offense, horns digging into his arms and the pillow, and chin jutted defiantly. His ever-lasting grin didn't help him, but he chose to ignore it in favor of his little tantrum. "Is that a challenge? You dare question my title as a gentleman?" he asked, and as his eyes danced with mirth, he did nothing to fight against the hold Eurion had on him. A prince, submitting to an assassin that had him pinned down. Ridiculous, but very real. "I can be good." Can be, keywords. The laughter dancing across his expression said otherwise, even if it brightened the golden freckles sparkled across his skin.

Sláine scoffed, rolling his eyes at Eurion and his words. "After all I've given you? A bed fit for royalty to sleep in, my precious tea, a nice place to sit—I could have you tried for treason for this slander." Gods, Eurion looked stunning with pink-warm cheeks and a smile softening his features. Happy. The assassin looked happy, or at least amused enough to be close to it, and it made Sláine's heart soar. The sight alone had his chest aflutter and conflicting feelings taking up a war, but the most prominent was how infectious and addictive Eurion's joy was. The prince would happily overdose on it if it meant keeping the man that way.

They can wait a little longer. Sláine didn't know when he'd be able to have Eurion all to himself again, and a growing part of him demanded he side of the assassin to himself. Anytime they stopped in inns, he'd selflessly volunteer to share a room with Eurion, and perhaps sneak in some time after dark, when his brother and Aideen settled down to sleep. It wouldn't be the same, he knew, but it was something, and he was eager. Perhaps eager wasn't the right word, though. He didn't want to leave this particular moment, but he was looking forward to whisking the assassin away in secret corners and behind doors. Just for a little, so that he could have something for himself.

His fingers from where he had trapped his hands beneath his own horns, as if showing that he was innocent and behaving. "What would you have me do?" Then the prince decided against behaving and freed his wrists in order to settle his hands on Eurion's knees; as if having the assassin literally in his lap and leaning on his chest wasn't contact enough. "If I'm not gentlemanly enough for you, what shall I do to prove myself? Your wish is my command."

"No harm done," the prince assured, positively enraptured with a laughing Eurion at this point. "I'm still here, aren't I? Now you're stuck finding out why we should be killed. But spreading lies just ruins my precious reputation, and I've worked so hard to build it into what it is." He bore his canines in a playful little snarl, snapping his teeth for an extra flourish. "Can't have anyone finding out I'm a scoundrel."

All things considered, the prince honestly hadn't meant to fluster Eurion with his move. It had been a natural movement for him, a shift in his position to be more comfortable, and he preferred he be holding something rather than having his limbs lying limp. But it took no time to have red blooming over the assassin's cheeks, darkening by each second the man didn't speak. He'd gone quiet, and Sláine had seen the Fae get lost in his thoughts often enough to recognize the shift. He regretted it immediately, as it took the unfiltered mirth away from his expression with only scraps left behind—still better than before, but not as brilliant as it just was—and he nearly pulled away to keep the touch between them on the assassin's terms. But then he felt the hands on his chest sliding down, and he froze for a moment. Waiting. Giving Eurion the space to do what he wanted without being influenced or pressured. Soon enough, hands settled on top of his. His skin warmed from the touch.

Sláine cocked his head and eyed the blushing assassin, who was now oddly subdued with his response. "Have I done something?" he asked, checking in with Eurion. Lines could be toed to a point. He didn't want to cross any. Eurion might have responded physically, but that didn't mean anything if his mind was elsewhere.

Sláine didn't want to admit how relieved he was that he hadn't crossed any boundaries unknowingly. Anyone he'd talk to would say he was mad for worrying about the boundaries of an assassin, given their situation. Even Eurion teased him for not caring about being a target of his. But it was hard to think about that when he had the warmth of another hovering over him, or the hands on his squeezing in reassurance, or the weight of someone comfortably on top of him as if made to be there. And that right there set him off on a silent reel of images, many involving Eurion deciding he was the best option for a place to sit while they stopped.

The prince had to look up and away from the assassin. Indecent. He was so incredibly indecent. He flipped his hands, then tangled their fingers together the best they could with their position and squeezed back, but had to remove Eurion from his vision before he got any more ideas. Because, yes, okay, the assassin sent to kill him was gorgeous in the tall, dark, and rough way. But he was also cute, and blushing, and staying planted right where he was despite the deal they had backed him into. Sláine wasn't sorry about the deal, because it meant he had gotten this chance that he wouldn't have had if Eurion ended up on the other end of a sword, but he knew it probably had a sour taste to Eurion. The fact that he was still sitting there said something.

He couldn't resist smiling as Eurion continued, though. "Okay, fine, we're equally stuck with each other." Sláine counted to three, then looked to the assassin again, and his smile twisted upwards even more without his permission. "That just means you've agreed to putting up with this royal ass, as you've so kindly called me, for the foreseeable future. You'll regret it soon enough; I'm a rather pampered and needy prince, of course. I require attention at all times."

"Hmm, I have my ways," Sláine hummed, winking up at the assassin with his signature look of mischief. He was sure enough in whatever this was that he'd only have to give Eurion the puppy eyes, or even something as simple as a touch to his hand, to get the assassin's attention. Besides, if his brother and Aideen were annoying enough, Eurion would more than likely default to the prince he was comfortable with, even if it was just a simple act of moving to be side-by-side.

He idly played with Eurion's hands, tracing the lines of his palms and curling their fingers together, as he thought to himself. In the silence, he heard a muffled thump against a wall and his brother's voice shouting, "You dead?" Sláine rolled his eyes and called out his currently still alive state of being, which his twin seemed to take well enough and didn't respond again. Unfortunately, though, it got the prince thinking about their current task and what they needed to do. It pained him to separate from Eurion when it felt like they had no time together. They quite literally had all night, then all morning, to themselves. He shouldn't be so disappointed that their time had to be put on pause. Eurion looked so comfortable perched on the prince's lap that he felt bad even considering making him move. But reality always called them back to face her, and as much as he wanted to deny their responsibilities, they had to come back to the ground.

With a dramatic sigh, Sláine tapped a pinky against Eurion's thigh without breaking his hold on the man's hands. "I think that's our cue," he said, though it was more of a whine than anything. His hands snaked further around Eurion's to hold his wrists. "Got at least a day's travel ahead of us. Hopefully we find an inn along the way." His eyes were mournful as they looked up at Eurion, but the grip he had on him was resistant. The prince didn't want to, and this was as close to a tantrum as Eurion had gotten to witness.

Hearing his name falling from the lips of his assassin shouldn't have made his chest feel like it was caving in from the rapid thumping of his heart. Sláine bit his lip as his smile threatened to bloom into a ridiculously pleased grin, but his reaction still sparkled in his eyes. "I'm holding you to that," he murmured, then let Eurion's hands slip through his grasp so the assassin could get up without being subjected to a pouty royal. The statement had felt like a promise, and he so desperately wished that it would hold true and fulfilled. He already missed having Eurion in his space; the air around him felt almost empty.

The prince took the newfound freedom to stretch out his body, now that he didn't have a man bigger than him pinning him down. Any minor aches or stiff joints sorted themselves out, with a few grunts of satisfaction from Sláine. But he couldn't keep himself away from Eurion for long. His gaze fell onto the man, and it snagged on the clothes the assassin had donned for the night. They were close enough in size that, despite the height and build difference, everything evened out to make his clothes fit nicely on the Fae.

"You're free to raid my wardrobe for anything you might want to borrow for the trip. Or even keep, I don't care." Amusement leaked into his tone no matter how innocent he tried to make himself out to be. "Because I'm that much of a gentleman." If those two hellions questioned him, he'd say it was because he wanted to keep their guide properly clothed with fresh garments. It wasn't as if he couldn't have new ones made if he was really hard-pressed for the ones Eurion might take, if any at all.

Was it bad that Sláine wanted to trace those tattoos and lines of muscle? Probably. The prince rolled over onto his stomach and hugged a pillow to his chest so he could bury the bottom half of his face in it. He had all eyes on the shifting lines of ink, and all ears for the assassin's laugh. "Ooo, profanity in the presence of the crown and threat of violence. You're really tallying up those offenses."

But as much as he wanted to watch and admire the strength of the man that had just been in his bed, and however much he joked about being a gentleman, Sláine wasn't about to subject Eurion to lack of privacy while changing. With a small huff of contempt, the prince rolled back over and off of the bed, keeping his back to the assassin to be polite and not creepy. The clothes he pulled out and tossed to the side for later were well-worn but sturdy travel clothes. Fitted brown leather trousers and black knee-high boots with thick soles, with a billowy light tan button-up shirt. Next to get tossed was a thick belt that would cover most of his stomach, the shirt meant to be cinched underneath. A decorative sheet of tan fabric hung from the middle of the belt and would fall between his legs down to his knees, black embroidery thick along the edges. And lastly, he snagged a coat that matched the black and tan theme, but this time it was all black with tan embroidery and decorative swirls at the cuffs. They all joined the pile on the bed so that he could grab them while he got undressed.

As Sláine got to work undressing as well, shrugging off his shirt to replace it with the button-up, he hummed in acknowledgement of Eurion's words. "Of course." He rolled up his sleeves and fastened them to his elbows, then glanced back over to his assassin. "I had already assumed that would be our first stop; wouldn't want to deprive you of your things. Ah—If Aideen doesn't give you back what she stole before we make it to the markets, best be quick before she finds a seller willing to pay. She's sneaky like that."

Eurion's soft challenge caught the prince's attention. No, just not caught—stolen. Sláine paused in the middle of dressing when a litany of ideas bombarded his mind. None of them he'd do, of course, mostly because of time. Biting his lip, face warming some, the prince quickly turned away and finished getting dressed. The coat was left on the bed for later. "Maybe. We'll see."

The belt around his waist wasn't all decoration and looks. Sláine hooked his swords through the belt loops of his trousers like normal, but then he opened a locked chest with a key that appeared in his palm, and inside was a collection of smaller weapons meant for hiding. He grabbed a matching set of obsidian throwing knives, which blended in with his black waist belt as he went through the process of sliding them into hidden sheathes. The edges were sharp enough that the prince, used to handling weapons, was careful with them as he handled each one. The last one he pulled out didn't get put away, but rather got the blade wrapped in its own little leather cover and set off to the side. Sláine closed the chest, locked it, and magicked the key away once more before standing and heading over to Eurion, protected knife in hand.

Up close to the assassin, Sláine was suddenly overly aware of the height difference. It wasn't much, but Eurion was tall enough that the prince had to look up. He ignored whatever feelings were fluttering about his chest, and the fact that his face stubbornly held onto the heat in his cheeks and across his nose, and held out the knife with a soft smile. "Consider it done," he assured. "That's unfortunately the hazards you run into when hiring thieves off the streets. Technically, the knights took her in before we got her, but she's still got sticky fingers and an eye for value. I'll make sure you get your things back, though."