Finneas was grateful not to wake up to a note slipped beneath his door. There was no order to keep away, no instruction stating that the prince needed his space. Still, as he passed through the doorway that joined their rooms, a sinking feeling made itself at home in his stomach. Maron sat at his desk, already awake and dressed, not turning his head when Finneas’s door clicked shut behind him.

“Good morning, Your Highness,” Finneas said. He looked nervously around the room. It was ridiculous, of course. This was the same thing he’d done each morning for the past six years. Nothing was different. At least, it shouldn’t be. He moved through the room with the same ease as he always did. Nothing was different.

“Morning.” Maron’s voice was as tired as ever– he had never been one to wake up easily. He said nothing else, simply rising and adjusting his crutches to fit well against his arms before moving toward the door to the sitting room. He passed through when Finneas opened it, finding the small table just beyond already set with a small tower of pastries and two steaming mugs.

Finneas took his place across from him, waiting for the man to pluck the first of the pastries before taking one for himself. It wasn’t that Maron was usually chatty early in the morning, but the silence felt heavy. “Your Highness,” he began, though he wasn’t certain where he was going with the words.

“My apologies. I’m tired today,” he said quietly. If the dark circles beneath the man’s eyes were any indication, it wasn’t just an empty excuse for the awkward air between them.

“Are you sleeping alright? If you’re having pain, I can make time to discuss a medication change–”

“No. No doctors.” Maron’s voice cut him off preemptively, and the man frowned. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to interrupt,” he said, letting out a soft sigh. “Please don’t go through all that trouble. I’ve just had trouble sleeping with… everything.”

If the silence before had been uncomfortable, the one that stretched between them now was excruciating. Finneas sat, staring at his hands, nails digging into his wrist as he kept himself from saying the wrong thing.

“I’m sorry. This isn’t your fault,” Maron said, shaking his head. “You’ve done nothing wrong. My issues are mine to work through.”

Finneas remained quiet for a moment. It did feel as if he had done something wrong. Things had never been this strange between the two of them. Even during the times when he had expected things to take odd turns, he had never felt such an overbearing weight in his lungs when he took trembling breaths. “Please don’t apologize.”

Maron’s eyes shut and he shook his head. “I need to, and I’d like to.”

As much as Finneas wanted to tell him that it wasn’t necessary, that there was no reason to apologize, it did make him feel better to hear it. As much pressure as Finneas was under not to make a mistake, Maron was facing just the same, with the added stress of seeing the thing he feared most coming forth from someone meant to protect him. Anything he did to deal with it, whether it was pushing Finneas away or avoiding contact with him entirely, Finneas understood. But to know that Maron still cared made it easier. “I appreciate it,” he said. Then, softer, he asked, “Do you regret taking them off?”

Maron stared at him, his lips parted with a puzzled look in his eyes. “I want you to be happy. I won’t regret anything that would make that easier.” He paused. “You are happy, right?”

Finneas pressed his lips together. He was. It was just the pressure that came with all of this that made him nervous, and the thought of Maron being afraid that worried him. And, if he was truly being honest, the fear of hurting him. It was all overwhelming to the point of making the air around him difficult to breathe. Still. It had been so long since he had felt whole. “Mostly,” he said.

Maron nodded. “I suppose that’s good. I want–”

His words were cut short by a knock at the door and a frown on his face. He moved to stand, reaching for his crutches, and Finneas waved for him to remain seated. “Rest,” he said, standing. If Maron was going to lose sleep over the stress of this, then at the very least, Finneas could have him rest now. He shouldn’t do more than he had to while tired.

When Finneas opened the door, he was greeted with a pair of blue eyes that went from bright to icy the moment they landed on him. He nodded. “Lord Altrusia, His Highness is still having breakfast.”

“No matter, I shall be quick,” the man said, pushing past without a second’s hesitation.

Finneas moved quickly, standing at Maron’s side before Altrusia had the time to cross the room. He didn’t say anything, but it was better to be close to him if Altrusia was going to be brash and forward enough to burst so unceremoniously into the prince’s quarters.

“Lord Altrusia, I apologize if we had an appointment. I don’t recall setting plans for breakfast in my room,” Maron said, remaining seated. His voice was as calm and cordial as anyone could have asked from royalty, but his posture was stiff and unwelcoming.

“My Prince, my humblest apologies for intruding upon your personal space,” he said. He bowed, a hand clutched over his heart. “I fear I have offended you.” When he raised his head, he fell to his knees. Finneas watched with as steady a face as he could manage, but Maron raised a brow. “I truly did not expect your rejection so quickly, and after speaking with your father, I ask that you reconsider.”

It was strange to hear such desperation fall from those lips, and Finneas supposed it was alright if he allowed himself to enjoy it just a little. After all, the man had been such an arduous presence within the palace walls that if he fell to his knees to grovel when everyone in the room knew it was futile, it wasn’t as though taking some pleasure in that was a terrible thing.

“My sincerest apologies if I have wronged you.” Altrusia looked up to meet Maron’s eyes, and then turned them to Finneas. “And my apologies to your servant as well. I know you keep him close to your heart, and I may have been less kind than I should have been.”

Oh. When the attention turned to Finneas, it was very suddenly a much less fun experience. He clenched his jaw, looking at the man in silence. There was nothing he could really say to that. What was he meant to say? Just yesterday in the training ground it would have taken hell itself freezing over to even get a mildly polite acknowledgement from the man, let alone an apology.

That piercing blue gaze held something crazed now, frantic and pleading as the man knelt before them. Maron turned to Finneas, and though Finneas couldn’t bring himself to so much as shift his lips into a frown, his eyes must have betrayed him and allowed his confusion to be understood.

“Lord Altrusia, please stand,” Maron said, raising his hand as he spoke. “I am grateful for your apologies to both of us, and I accept mine.” He paused, folding his hands in his lap. “I do not owe you an explanation for my rejection, but it was certainly in part due to your behavior.” He took his mug in his hands, bringing it to his lips.

“You’ll give me another chance, then? Please, allow me to be on my best behavior and show you all that I can be.” He held his hands together as if in prayer, locking his eyes onto Maron’s. “Your father said that you are having tea this afternoon. Please, let me join you.”

Maron placed his mug on the table and gave a weak nod. “Alright. You will join me for tea, and we will go from there. For now, please allow me to rest for a while.”

Altrusia nodded viciously, beaming. The smile did not reach his eyes. Instead, there was some other, strange discontent that Finneas couldn’t decipher. He scrambled to his feet, bowed once more. “Thank you, Your Highness. You will not regret this. Thank you.” With nothing else, he turned to exit the room, nearly sprinting out of it.

With the door falling shut behind him, Finneas spoke. “Odd.”

Maron nodded. “Would you get a painkiller for me, please?”