Chapter Text
Pairings: Samiel/Jason (hints of Samiel/Pallas/Jason)
Notes: A quick little ficlet, dealing with the Great Kidnap Plan. No major warnings beyond AU!Samiel and Jay (and thank you to Sukka, for making me think about the Samiel/Pallas/Jay dynamic).
It has been three days since the Agapios put his plan into action.
Most of those three days, Pallas has spent pacing in a cell. Beneath him, he can feel the hum of the ship’s engine; it’s a sensation he still can’t get used to. He’s spent most of his life with his feet planted firmly on the ground, only travelling when he needed to, and never for this length of time.
“You do get used to it,” the Agapios says, when Pallas tells him.
He’s sitting on the only bunk in the room, one leg propped up as he watches Pallas going slowly insane. His presence, Pallas can admit, is a comfort.
It is also a worry.
Right now, Pallas knows, Most Exalted is on his way to them. That’s the whole purpose of this exercise. What he is less sure of, is how forgiving his King will be, when Pallas has had to let his husband be kidnapped.
Samiel Callios has killed for less.
“Stop worrying,” the Agapios says, as though he can read Pallas’ mind. When Pallas glances at him, startled, he gives a little shrug. “I can hear your thoughts spiralling from here.”
“How do we know this will work?” Pallas blurts out, then winces. He hadn’t meant to be so indiscreet. “I mean – ”
The Agapios slides off the bunk, crossing the room in two easy strides. He gets a hand on Pallas’s shoulder and gives him a little shake. “Calm down,” he says. “Deep breaths. This is hardly the first time I’ve been held by a hostile force.”
“Well it’s the first time I’ve had to guard you when you have!” Pallas snaps, then immediately regrets it.
The Agapios’ lips twitch once, as though he is suppressing a smile. “You’re doing very well.” The grip on Pallas’s shoulder tightens reassuringly.
From this close, they are almost eye to eye. Pallas is a little surprised to realise he may even be slightly shorter than Jason Lane. He blinks, then blinks again. The Agapios’ eyes are calm; thoughtful. It’s like staring into the mist on the foothills outside Maa-Tarek.
For a moment Pallas’s heart thumps once, painfully, in his chest.
“Agapios, I – ”
The ship lurches suddenly, an alarm screeching to life in the corridor outside their cell. It is ear-shattering, wailing above the sound of running feet and sharp, concerned voices.
Pallas staggers, and only the Agapios’ grip keeps him upright. “What’s going on?”
“I believe,” the Agapios says dryly, “my husband has just arrived.”
*
After, Pallas only remembers their escape in fragments.
He remembers running; remembers too the shouts of startled Drakkia as they encountered the small group of Lenians who had boarded their ship. He thinks he saw Lysander Kyrios, snarling and furious, holding off four soldiers.
There was Most Exalted, blade in hand, carving through Drakkia like they were an afterthought; a nuisance.
Someone put a salzon in Pallas’s hand, and he remembers wanting to do some damage. Three days of frustration and worry boiling under his skin, and he refused to hold back.
The Agapios was the opposite of most of the chaos - calm and precise. Someone had given him a pistol, and he had been picking off Drakkia with disturbing ease. Pallas remembers the way he’d looked – flame-haired and sturdy; a pillar they had rallied around.
After, there are only a few Drakkia left, Kyrios among them. They are being rounded up under the watchful eye of Severne Kleos.
Pallas watches the whole thing, propped up in one corner. Now the adrenaline is wearing off, the stress is catching up with him and he’s starting to tire.
“You’re alright,” Most Exalted is saying. He has his Agapios by the nape of the neck, their foreheads pressed together as he breathes deeply. “You’re really – ”
“I’m perfectly fine,” the Agapios says. “It went exactly as planned. Better, in fact. They were more interested in – ” He’s cut off by a kiss, hard and desperate.
For a heartbeat, Pallas can’t help but watch the way Most Exalted pulls his Agapios closer; the way the Agapios buries strong fingers in his King’s hair, fiercely reassuring. They are dangerous; beautiful.
The scene is intimately shocking, even after so long exposed to the pair of them. It makes Pallas’s mouth a little dry; makes his heart beat faster.
He turns his head away.
“Besides,” he hears the Agapios say. “I had Pallas with me.”
And no. No. Pallas does not want to draw the attention of his King right now. He’s too tired to answer questions; too strung out to want to deal with that kind of intensity.
He closes his eyes, and hopes he escapes notice.
Footsteps approaching tell him he’s not going to be so lucky. He heaves a quiet sigh and waits for the inevitable axe to fall.
“Severne Pallas,” Most Exalted says softly.
When Pallas opens his eyes, Most Exalted is standing in front of him. He’s close enough that if Pallas reached out a hand, he could press his palm to his King’s chest; could feel his heart beat through his tunic.
Samiel Callios is terrifying and beautiful, and honestly Pallas wishes he would go away right now.
“Most Exalted,” he says instead, drawing himself up and trying to look at least partially confident. He’s lost his visor somewhere, and as Most Exalted studies his face, he longs for it with an intensity that he doesn’t think he’s ever felt before.
“You were imprisoned with Jason.” Most Exalted is watching him. His expression is thoughtful; the faintest of frowns drawing a line between his eyes.
This is it, Pallas thinks. This is the moment he condemns me for not doing enough. He lowers his gaze, ducking his head so he doesn’t have to see the disappointment on his King’s face.
The cool touch of fingers under his chin makes him flinch, surprised. Pressure makes him tilt his head back up, until he is eye to eye with Most Exalted.
For a moment, something flickers in his King’s expression – there and gone so fast, Pallas isn’t sure what he’s seen.
“Thank you,” Most Exalted says. “I knew we could trust you.” He presses his lips, warm and dry, to the corner of Pallas’s mouth.
It is –
It –
It’s unheard of, Pallas thinks dizzily. It is absolutely unheard of for the royal couple to show favour in any way, let alone this. It marks him, in the eyes of his fellow Severne, as a higher rank; the King’s most intimate bodyguard.
He doesn’t deserve this. He doesn’t –
Bewildered, he meets the Agapios’ gaze over Most Exalted’s shoulder.
Lane does not look surprised. He does not look disturbed, or annoyed, or any other emotion Pallas may have been expecting. Rather, there is outright approval on his face as he watches the pair of them.
Pallas sees him approach, and barely flinches when Most Exalted steps back. “I don’t – ” he begins, bewildered.
The Agapios touches his cheek briefly; a gentle brush of the thumb that catches on the line of Pallas’s jaw. “Severne Aristeos,” he says quietly. “You have our gratitude.”
The King leans into his beloved, lips pressed close to his ear. He mutters something that Pallas doesn’t quite catch. The Agapios’ mouth twitches in amusement; his eyes lighting up as he listens to his husband.
“Perhaps another time,” he says, loud enough for Pallas to hear. He takes the King’s arm. “At the moment we have work to do.”
“Don’t we always?” the King complains, as he lets himself be steered away. “There’s always something more with you, mio ades.”
“Well,” the Agapios says, amused. “You know what they say.” He shoots a wink over his shoulder at Pallas. “No rest for the wicked.”
They walk off bickering comfortably, leaving Pallas standing there with his heart pounding, his mouth hanging open.
He’s ended up with royal favour. Public royal favour. He doesn’t know how this has happened. He’s not –
He doesn’t –
“Oh gods,” he says softly to no one in particular. “What have I let myself in for?”