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Laslow is nowhere to be found.
For a moment Xander panics, irrationally afraid that Laslow has been spirited away to another world, back to his home world, despite the fact that Laslow has assured him that he doesn't know what he's going to do and when he does make his decision, Xander will be the first to know.
The moment passes and the panic fades, joining the dull ache in his chest that pangs every time he remembers Laslow saying, "If, after the war, I were to go somewhere..."
But Xander is a man of action, and he pushes the thoughts away while he goes searching for his retainer.
Somewhere far away...
He’s not in his room or in the kitchens, attempting to flirt with the maids. He’s not in the spot at the edge of the gardens that he things Xander does not know about where he goes to dance when he is stressed or troubled.
If you never saw me again...
He is not with Odin, who he finds in Niles’ quarters, looking unusually on edge. Concerned, Xander tries to inquire if he is also looking for Laslow and is met with a response that is both uncharacteristically plain spoken and unacceptably terse given that he’s speaking to the soon-to-be-King of Nohr. Niles is not known for being someone who de-escalates situations, but he pulls Odin away before he can do any irredeemable damage.
Would you be angry?
Xander even goes down to the local tavern to ask the incredibly starstruck bartender if they’ve seen his infamous retainer clumsily flirting with local women recently. He receives an offer of a free drink and the distinct sense that he’s being hit on, but no more information on the Laslow front.
Would you be able to forgive me for abandoning you?
Eventually, Xander finds him in the last place he expected: the practice grounds. Laslow rarely practices swordplay or axeplay, which is a problem because that is not the way a royal retainer should act, but not a huge problem because Laslow is inexplicably skillful despite never practicing, and his loafing has never endangered Xander’s life or his own. Besides, Xander has had discussions with him several times about this behavior and they never seem to stick.
It is funny the way that little things, like scolding Laslow about his lackluster training regimen, pop into his head at the strangest of times.
...Yes. I would.
“Laslow,” Xander says, as he approaches, and Laslow pauses from decimating a practice dummy with vigor he would have expected more from Peri.
“Milord.” Laslow replies, uncharacteristically lackluster.
“Is something troubling you?” Xander asks, although he already knows the answer.
He pauses, then forges on, reluctant to broach the subject himself, “Perhaps your...situation with your home world?”
“It’s just,” Laslow laughs bitterly. “A no-win situation, and it’s my own damn fault for thinking this would somehow work out.”
“Laslow,” Xander says, gentle. “It’s not your fault.”
“But it is.” Laslow insists. “It’s selfish of me. I should go back, I promised I would go back. If I stay, it would break my mothers heart. But if I go…”
“You would break mine.” Xander finishes, quietly.
Laslow looks up to meet his eyes, shocked.
“I’m sorry.” Xander says. “That was out of line. I had resolved not to say anything so as not to bias your decision, but I failed. I suppose I am a bit selfish too.”
“I was going to say that leaving would break my own heart. Milord, are you saying that you wish for me to stay?”
“If I did, would it keep you here?” Xander looks almost ashamed.
“Perhaps.” Laslow breathes, afraid to say yes.
“Then I must not say it. Even if it pains me, if you must return, I do not want to be the tie that binds you to a world that is not your own.”
“Milord,” Laslow says, eyes wide, hands shaking. “You already are.”
Xander closes his eyes, in guilt or in resignation.
“I told you before that I do not require you to be at my side, only that you continue to draw breathe, be it in this world or any other.” Xander opens his eyes, catches Laslow’s gaze and holds it tightly. “I stand by that statement. If you must return home to your world, I will not oppose it, and I will wish you the happiest of lives wherever you may be.”
“But if I can be so bold as to speak frankly,” he continues. “Although I do not require your presence by my side, I have come to realize that I desire it, now and always.”
“Laslow,” Xander steps forward, gently grasps Laslow’s hands. “I do not wish to keep you from your home, but I want you to know that you always have a place by my side. That is, if you so desire.”
Laslow stands in silence for several moments, lost in thought but not releasing Xander’s hand. Xander becomes nervous, is just about to pull away, berating himself for his inappropriate behavior, when Laslow squeezes his hand.
“Perhaps it is my turn to speak too boldly.” Laslow says, firm grip belying his nervousness. “Milord, I fear that this may make you angry, but you cannot possibly keep me from my home, for over the past years, you have become my home.”
Xander hears the words before he understands them, and Laslow tenses up just before Xander processes what he has heard and pulls Laslow into his arms.
“Rather than being angry,” Xander says into Laslow’s hair, suddenly realizing that he can feel Laslow’s heartbeat in his own chest. “I am honored.”
“Laslow, are you crying?” Xander asks, minutes or hours later; he is not sure exactly how long they have been there, but even though Laslow is not leaving he cannot bear to let him go in case he changes his mind.
“No,” Laslow says, blinking away what he claims are not tears. “I just have something in my eye”
“We haven’t moved for ages, what could you have gotten in your eye?” More specifically, Laslow has been standing in Xander’s arms for who knows how long, feeling as is Xander was the only thing holding him together.
“Tears.” Laslow, never a good liar, finally admits.