He Loves Me, He Loves Me Not

Title: He Loves Me, He Loves Me Not (Part 1)
Author: Sabishisa (sabishisa@live.com)
Rating: PG-13 (this piece), NC17 (overall)
Summary: When Taylor gets words that the Prince may be in love, it’s not long before the entire castle knows about it. The Prince must struggle to keep his secret (and his emotions) to himself.... no matter how much Kyle makes his heart race.
Warnings: (apply to this part only) yaoi, angst, slight amount of unresolved sexual tension, to be continued
Disclaimer: Suikoden V and all its characters belong to Konami. I make exactly 0$ writing fanfics about it.
Etc: This is the first fanfics I’ve written in a loooong time... so hopefully it won’t suck. Comments and critique are loved, welcomed, and encouraged~

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Yashuna village was always beautiful, but at night it was even more so. Simply passing by, the Prince could feel the warmth of the steam as it rolled up from the natural hot springs. Lately, everyone at the castle had been chastising him for working too much and insisting that he needed a break. It was on Marina's recommendation that he was here. She'd said the hot springs would provide him all the rest and healing he would need without having to take a long break. He'd hoped that spending a night here would satisfy those with concerns.

Inside the Inn, the Prince sighed contentedly as he lowered himself into the water slowly. Maybe there was something to legend of healing waters because the steaming water seemed to melt his tensions away and he could feel himself relaxing within minutes. After a short time, he leaned back against the edge of the tub and draped his arms over the side resting his head back on a folded towel. His mind drifted over the week’s events before fading away to a welcomed peaceful quiet. It had been quite some time since he'd felt so at ease.

The soft scraping of the sliding door cut across his daydreaming like a banshee’s screech. Lifting his head just long enough to catch sight of the blonde hair and familiar face, the Prince relaxed once more against the side of the bath and closed his eyes. "I had Lyon stay at the castle," he explained, figuring that was the only reason Kyle would be here instead of at the castle attempting woo the various women there. No matter how many times he proved himself in battle, everyone seemed to insist that he needed constant protection.

"And why would His Highness do a thing like that," Kyle asked. There was just enough sarcasm in his voice to make the Prince peek an eye open. Kyle pretended not to notice, of course.

The water made a soft sound when the Prince shrugged, his pale shoulders just barely breaking the surface. He knew very well why he'd insisted she remain at the castle but he really didn't feel like sharing those reasons with a man like Kyle. Lyon, along with just about everyone else, had been smothering him. More than the rest, the Prince felt he needed time to himself. That was surely something Kyle would not understand.

The blonde knight chuckled lightly and, much to the Prince's surprise, began to shrug casually out of his bathrobe. "I suppose even a Prince needs man-time," he said, his voice light-hearted and playful. He turned and hung the robe on one of the provided hooks. "The Prince doesn't mind if I join him, does he," Kyle asked, though it was quite obvious that he intended to join no matter what the Prince's answer was.

And because no answer was required, Freyjadour didn't give one. Instead, he took full advantage of the opportunity to run his eyes down Kyle's toned and firm backside. When Kyle turned once more to make his way into the bath, the young man didn't feel any shame in continuing his study of the knight’s body. His manhood was flaccid and hung thick between his legs. Topping it was a curly patch of blonde curls, darker than the rest of the hair that decorated his body. A thin trail of the same dusky blonde led up to his navel. The blonde man's stomach and chest were as firm and muscular as always. The Prince frowned at the sight of a newly forming scar that marred the almost flawless skin.

Used to reading the quiet Prince's expressions, Kyle explained that it was nothing, merely a cut from a Godwin Solider during their last battle.

Freyjadour sat up a little straighter as the blonde man lowered himself into the hot water. Kyle hissed softly, slowly sliding lower and lower. Once he was sitting, he groaned softly and the Prince could see his shoulders droop, the tension visibly draining out him. Kyle’s head was dropped back a bit and his blonde hair floated around him in the water. It certainly made for a handsome view.

The Prince had bathed countless times with Kyle growing up. It was only in the last few years that the he began to become aware of just how attracted to Kyle he really was. Naturally, he'd never told him, mostly because he was all too aware of Kyle's sexual preferences. Over the years, his attraction had grown into a steady crush, and lately, Freyjadour had tried to avoid bathing with the man. In all honesty, he’d begun to avoid Kyle all together, hoping that his crush would fade. He’d thought it was successful, but that simple entrance into the bath had been more than enough to bring it back full-force.

Swallowing the sigh that threatened to give his thoughts away, the Prince stood. What he'd seen tonight would be quite enough to fill the blackness behind his closed eyes. Staying any longer was only torture. And beyond that, Kyle was far too good at reading him. Only Lyon was better and, this close, he didn’t want to take any unnecessary chances.

"You don't have to run off 'cause of me, Your Highness," Kyle said, moving to stand as well. "You need the rest. I can wait until you are finished if you truly wish to be alone."

With a slight shake of his head, the Prince placed his hand on Kyle's shoulder, the light gesture enough to keep Kyle from rising. "It is fine, Kyle. Enjoy your bath."

Certain that would be all he’d need to explain to Kyle, the Prince moved to leave once more and gasped softly when he felt a strong, rough hand wrap firmly around his wrist, effectively holding him in place. He looked down in astonishment, barely able to believe that it was Kyle holding him in such a way.

"Then what is it, Prince," Kyle asked, the playfulness gone from his voice. It was rare to hear Kyle serious and even more so that he made any sort of commanding gesture with the silver-haired boy. Still holding onto the Prince's wrist, Kyle stood. "Why are you so distant from me? I understand that you are growing up but you avoid me every second you can. You don't even bother to come up with excuses anymore, Prince. Have I offended you?"

The Prince dropped his eyes, fearing that Kyle would some how read the real answer there. "Kyle, you are speaking nonsense," he said, trying to make his voice as strong as he could. "I have no more avoided you than any of the other Knights."

"That's a lie," Kyle said vehemently, then quickly added ‘Your Highness’ as if to make it respectful. “You do not take me traveling with you unless you absolutely have to. If I happen to enter the room you are in, you leave it. You won't even look at me when we speak." Kyle took a half step forward, putting their bodies close enough that the Prince was all but forced to look up at him. "Freyjadour... Prince... If I have offended you and you want nothing more to do with me, fine. I will accept that. But at least give me the dignity of knowing what I have done and allow me to continue my services as a Queen's Knight."

"That's just it, isn't it," the Prince snapped, twisting his wrist free of Kyle's grasp. He was suddenly angry and having Kyle stand so close to him naked and wet was clouding his mind. If he could be angry, he could ignore the other feelings rushing around in his stomach. "Perhaps if I were a Queen, you would be more inclined towards me. Do not grab me again, Kyle or you may find yourself Knight of nothing at all."

Taking advantage of Kyle's stunned silence, the Prince stormed out of the bath, splashing water in his haste, and pulled his own robe down from the hook. Angry tears blurred his vision as he pulled it on. He heard the water lapping much more gently around in the tub as Kyle exited the bath but paid it no mind until two hands grabbed his shoulders, turned him around and pushed him roughly against the wall. He gasped and glared up angrily into the Knight's blue eyes, his mouth open to some other angry something he didn’t truly mean.

"Is that what you think," Kyle demanded, cutting off the Prince's indignant protest. "You honestly think that I would only want to protect you if you were a Queen? Prince, I've watched over you since you were a boy! You and your family have been my utmost concern since I became Knight and that's not about to change."

The more Kyle talked, the more Freyjadour wished he'd just shut up. He felt a tear slip down his cheek and it made him ashamed. He didn't want Kyle, of all people, to see him cry. When Kyle reached up and brushed the tear away with his thumb, it suddenly wasn't just about his frustration anymore. A swell of emotions overcame the young Prince... lingering sadness at the loss of his family, the loneliness he felt with his sister and homeland so far away from him, a mental and physical exhaustion from leading this campaign against the Godwin's... And with Kyle so close, feeling both strong and soft in front of him, the Prince finally broke down and cried.

He wasn't sure if Kyle understood the reasons behind it, but the Knight didn’t hesitate one second in offering him the comfort he needed. Warm, still damp arms wrapped gently around the Prince's shoulders and Kyle said nothing as he held him close. They did not move as the Prince cried or even when he calmed and once more fell silent. He gave Freyjadour no reason to feel ashamed for his sudden emotional release, though it didn’t stop an embarrassed blush from spreading over the Prince’s cheeks as he pulled free of Kyle’s embrace.

“Forgive me, Kyle,” he said, his eyes downcast. After clearing his throat softly, he forced himself to look up, meeting the Knight’s concerned gaze with as much of a blank expression as he could muster. “I promise I will not loose control of myself like that again.” He paused long enough to swallow, the lump in his throat made up of everything he truly wanted to say. What was left would get him out of this room and away from Kyle quickly. “You will not speak of anything that has happened here and I will keep the matter of your disrespect quiet in return. When I have need of you, I will call your name. As a Knight, that is all you need to know.”

He could see the confusion and hurt in Kyle’s eyes and had no choice but to look away from it. Pulling his robe tighter around himself, the Prince turned from him and left the room. He dressed quickly and made a hasty retreat to the outside of the village where he activated his mirror and returned to the castle. He mumbled in response to cheerful greetings as he made his way up to his room. Lyon caught sight of him as he slipped through the door but made no move to follow him. This was one of those times he was glad she knew him so well.

His bed welcomed him and he sunk down into the folds of his blankets with a careless grace passed down from his mother. Slim arms wrapped around his pillow and Freyjadour hugged it to his chest rather than rest his head on it, pulling as much comfort as he could from its softness. He closed his eyes, screwed them shut tightly in an effort not to think of Kyle... He willed himself to think of anything else.

Don’t think of how nice it felt to be able to just let go once in a while... or how that niceness was made even better by the way the Knight’s arms felt so warm and protective. Kyle’s embrace was firm and strong, but soft and receptive at the same time. From those few moments, Freyjadour knew that anytime he needed to breakdown, he would be able to rely on those arms.

And that knowledge only made the Prince feel worse about everything because he knew that no matter how nice it felt, he could never feel it again. The Prince and a Queen’s Knight... the scandal would tear apart what was left of the royal family’s good name within days. Kyle would very likely loose his knighthood, not to mention the rather shaky respect he’d earned. Due to Kyle’s reputation, he’d likely be the one blamed. He’d be blamed and cast out for corrupting the young Prince.

All of this, of course, assumed that Kyle would even consider looking at Freyjadour romantically, something the Prince was all but certain would never happen. He knew, deep down, that Kyle’s comfort had been offered in nothing more than friendship and everything else he’d felt was fueled by his own imagination.

The Prince’s own heavy sigh broke the silence of his room. He released his pillow and moved it back up to the head of the bed before sitting up. He wouldn’t let himself dwell on it. He couldn’t. For the sake of everyone else, he had to be Prince first and foremost.

His room suddenly felt stuffy and confining. His realizations crowded in on him, weighing down the very air. The Prince stood and padded over to his window. Pushing it open, he rested his elbows on the sill and leaned out into the night’s cool air. He inhaled deeply and let it out slowly, releasing everything he’d been feeling with it. A scent other than the water around them caught his attention and he turned his eyes to the small table beside his bed.

Someone, most likely Lyon, had filled the vase there with flowers. They were of a mixed variety and the Prince could only identify a few of them. Their smell was heady and sweet, with just a slight undertone of the soil they were growing from. The Prince reached over and plucked one of the flowers he did recognize, a simple white daisy.

Holding it in his hands, he leaned back out into the night, his eyes scanning over the horizon aimlessly. He’d seen his sister and Lyon both plucking the petals from flowers reciting “he loves me” and “he loves me not” in turn with each petal. It had seemed like a cute and silly game to him, but not one he’d ever thought of taking part in. With a glance down to the flower in his own hands, Freyjadour shrugged. “Why not,” he said softly to himself and began to tug off the petals one by one, repeating the alternating phrases.

He paid more attention to the way the petals fluttered down from his window, caught the air and drifted away than the number of petals left or what phrase he was on. It wasn’t until he reached for another petal and didn’t find one that he realized he’d stopped on “he loves me”. The Prince could feel his cheeks flush slightly and he dropped the flowers remains as well. Unlike the petals, it plummeted straight down. The irony made him smile. Feeling good despite it all, Freyjadour moved out of the window and pulled it closed once more.

He’d taken no more than a few steps away from the window when a light knock came from his door. The Prince bid the knocker to enter and the door cracked just enough for Lyon to slip her head and shoulders through.

“Prince, I just wanted to check on you before I retired to bed,” she said softly, her alert eyes going straight to his face, searching for any signs of distress.

The Prince’s only reply was a warm smile and a nod.

Seeing that the smile was genuine and feeling better about the Prince’s mood, Lyon bowed as much as she could in the door way. “Then I bid you good night, Prince,” she said and slipped back out of the door, pulling it closed behind her.

Feeling better about everything that had occurred that day, the Prince changed into his bedclothes and returned to his bed, thankful that sleep claimed him quickly.

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To be continued...