Work Text:
Berenger was sitting at his desk, frowning. He rubbed at his forehead, wincing slightly.
“What’s wrong with your head?” Ancel asked, just about managing to bite down on any comments about the fact that Berenger’s head was actually rather excellent. The first couple of times he had been uncertain but enthusiastic. Now, he was certain and enthusiastic, and that was even better. But Berenger’s sexual prowess wasn’t the point right now - the point was that Berenger seemed to be in pain.
“It’ll pass,” Berenger muttered, frowning worse and wincing again.
“If you’ve got a headache, you shouldn’t be reading,” Ancel pointed out. Berenger had told him that before, when he’d been trying to squint down at pages to please Berenger even though he’d been exhausted.
“I need to reply to this message today,” Berenger muttered. He could be infuriatingly stubborn at times, wanting to be a good Councillor even when he had his own needs and wishes.
Ancel huffed, and stepped out into the corridor, sending Emilia to fetch some mint tea for Berenger, because he liked that when he was tired. He rubbed at Berenger’s shoulders, taking the opportunity to assess the writing on the page. It wasn’t the clearest he had seen, but it was clear enough for his purposes. Which was unsurprising, given the seal on it, a starburst in a ring of laurel leaves.
“I can read it to you.”
Berenger nodded. “If you could.”
Ancel didn’t make a comment about the fact Berenger’s head must have been hurting a lot if he was willing to let Ancel near his letters - the last thing he wanted was to put Berenger off accepting his help when he clearly needed it. He sat down on Berenger’s lap, and let the lord wrap an arm around him, holding him steadily.
He frowned to himself, carefully picking out the words. Thankfully, this time at least the words were all in Veretian - while he had started learning the Akielon alphabet, it was tiring and he wanted to do this right. The letter was simple enough - information about new farming tariffs, a plan to redistribute tax to regions which had been neglected, and progress on some basic schools for the children who ran through Vere without care or shelter. The tax redistribution might harm Varenne slightly, but the previous year’s harvest had been good, and Berenger was mostly busy smiling at the information about the schooling programme. He had pioneered the plan within his own region, and had been arguing for the last two years that it needed to be spread across the nations.
Berenger smiled at him, sleepily, and pressed a kiss to his throat. “Thank you, Ancel.”
Ancel smiled, and sipped some of the tea Emilia had brought, and let Berenger write his reply. When that was done, he took the parchment, waving it in the air to dry the ink. “I’ll send it. You head to bed.”
Berenger paused. “I-”
“You’re in pain,” Ancel reasoned. “We have Vannes visiting tomorrow, so I need you at your best. Go and rest, I’ll join you once I’ve sent the messenger off.”
“Thank you,” Berenger said, his voice worshipful, and Ancel went to sort the letter, sealing it with his copy of Berenger’s signet ring. He went back via the kitchen, ordering chicken soup and fresh bread to be brought up alongside some pastries for himself. Then he went to change into silks - he’d been in riding clothes earlier.
He went to Berenger’s bedroom, and found the Lord was already dozing, sprawled asleep in his bed. Ancel rolled his eyes, but lay down beside him, kissing his cheek. Still asleep, Berenger raised a hand, and wrapped it around Ancel’s waist, and Ancel smiled to himself.
Berenger woke a short while later, when the servants brought the food, murmuring thanks. Ancel sat beside him, and fed him, and Berenger smiled at him tiredly.
“You take good care of me.”
“I’m-” Ancel hesitated. He liked helping. And he could make a joke about it being his job, only - only everyone knew that wasn’t the case. Berenger was generous with his money, and he’d got more than enough saved from the past five years to buy out his contract and live comfortably. That was what he should do. What most pets would do - maybe he could even set up a brothel. He certainly wasn’t as youthfully beautiful as a lot of the pets were. He was aware people looked at him, and wondered when he would reach the end of his use. Berenger seemed to be the only one not wondering that. “I’m old,” he said, which wasn’t something that should be spoken out loud.
“I’m older,” Berenger said with an easy smile. Ancel opened his mouth to argue that it was different for a lord, only Berenger was looking at him, and his chest felt warm, and he didn’t feel afraid. It had been a long time since he had been afraid.
“Aren’t you embarrassed to have a decrepit ancient pet?” Ancel murmured, half in play. “People will think there is something wrong with your desires.”
“You are what I desire,” Berenger said softly, leaning in to take another mouthful of food. “I don’t mind people talking. They can talk about the fact I love you.”
Ancel never knew why those words had such an effect on him - he’d been fine with clients saying such things in the past, but every time Berenger said it, it made him feel warm. The first few times, it had been terrifying, not because he doubted it but because he didn’t. It wasn’t terrifying now. It felt safe to hear. “I love you too. If you want some ancient thing…”
“You’re beautiful, Ancel,” Berenger said, and that frown was back, and his voice was sincere.
“I won’t always be.” It was hard to say it, but Ancel had no illusions about such things.
Berenger smiled, and reached out, and kissed him softly. “You will be to me.” He yawned. “I might… rest a little longer. Vannes is sure to bring a whole heap of problems to my door tomorrow, and I want to get some sleep.”
“Get some sleep,” Ancel said softly, lying down beside him. “I’m here. And if you’re still ill tomorrow, I’ll handle her.”
“I know,” Berenger said softly, pressing a kiss to his cheek, and one to his lips. “I know.”