Samson had dined with the royal family countless times before. Once Elias had taken a liking to him, Samson had been at his side like a lost puppy, trailing behind him obediently whenever Elias had a free second. Her Majesty hadn’t been too offended by it back then. It was annoying to have some child following her son around, but he didn’t cause trouble and, blessedly, kept quiet. Besides, His Majesty had always wanted Elias to have a friend to play with. It wasn’t good for a boy to grow up alone, he had said.

But the past was the past. That had been Henry. When Samson entered the dining room, it came as no surprise when a pair of black eyes landed on him and squinted with disgust. It was one thing for him to appear at a meeting she had personally arranged. It was another for him to arrive unannounced at her weekly dinner with her son. “Elias, we’ve discussed this. I don’t allow dogs at the table.”

Samson should have been upset.

“Funny. You’ve allowed Martin plenty of times.” Elias didn’t slow his stride as he approached the table. His expression was neutral, and he walked as if he were completely at ease. When he reached his chair, he paused, and Samson didn’t hesitate to pull it back for him. It had been years, but he fell into his role with ease. This was where he was meant to be. This was what he was made for.

Elias gestured toward the seat at his right, and Samson took it, folding his hands in his lap and only looking toward Elias. So long as he could follow Elias’s lead, he would be fine. He would keep quiet, he would be polite, and Her Majesty would deal with it or she wouldn’t.

“I have to say, I’m surprised you’ve invited him here, considering all he did.” The question was a trap. Not for Elias, but for Samson. If there was any sign that Samson had requested to be invited back, that it had not been entirely Elias’s desire, it would mean a breach of contract.

“He is working on a few research projects for me. I summoned him back to report. And I’ve decided to keep him close through the wedding. I don’t expect you to provide everything for me as I leave, Your Majesty.” His tone was even, but hearing him call his mother by her title made Samson’s stomach churn. It hadn’t been like this before. Back then, even if the Queen had been a foreboding figure, she had been softer with her son. Elias had never looked this uncomfortable in her presence, so stiff.

“Mm, I suppose the protection won’t be a bad thing. However, I encourage you to remember that he is a pirate. Do not be surprised if the princess does not meet him with open arms.” She crossed her arms before her, frowning. Samson became acutely aware of the deep lines around her mouth. They hadn’t been there before, either. Had she been so unpleasant and displeased that it was now chiseled into her skin?

Elias didn’t respond. Instead, he turned his head, finding a servant bringing in a pitcher of water, pouring it into glasses for each of them. Samson was given a harsh look, but he paid it no mind. That was none of his concern. So long as Elias was still by his side, it didn’t matter if Samson felt out of place. He was where he needed to be.

The servant returned quickly with a bottle of wine, and Elias made a face as a full glass was set before him. “No need,” he said, shaking his head. It was placed before him anyway, and then one before Samson.

“One drink won’t kill you,” Her Majesty murmured, shaking her head. “Besides, aren’t you celebrating? A friend’s arrival, or something of the sort.” Her own glass was already in her hand. “Besides, we can’t afford for you to be wasteful when it’s already been poured for you.”

Elias’s furrowed brow didn’t ease, and Samson did the only thing that he needed to do. He took the glass from him, draining it in a few swallows. It was bitter and strong, the sort of wine that wasn’t meant to be drunk quickly, lest it get the better of its drinker. The looks on both of his dinner mates' faces said that this was not a polite thing to do, but he didn’t say a word, simply setting the glass back in its place. If they saw him as improper, so be it. He was a pirate. It wasn’t as if adhering to social politeness was going to change that.

“I suppose it’s of no worry now?” Elias said, letting out a soft sigh and shaking his head. He didn’t look upset, but the look in his eyes was still complicated. It wasn’t as though he was angry. But Samson couldn’t figure out what else he might have been when he looked at him with black irises swimming with undefined emotion. 

Samson sat, doing his best to look like nothing but a piece of the scenery. There was something he was missing, he was certain, but he didn’t ask now. It wasn’t the right time. Perhaps, depending on what this was, it was entirely out of like for him to ask at all. He just kept quiet, listening to the uncomfortable silence as servants brought out small plates of appetizers.

Samson had shared countless meals with his own mother. Even when Elias had pulled him into the fold of the royal family, he still spent as much time as possible with her. When he was small, he had always run around their room, laughing and playing through the entirety of the meal. Their quarters were nothing special, just a shared room with a miniscule kitchenette and a fireplace that always crackled with warmth. It had been enough. When he was older, it had been less dramatic, but he had still sat and listened when his mother told him about her day, the stresses of being someone so high ranking within the lowest of work. And, regardless of whether the day had been good or bad or somewhere in the middle, they’d always found something to laugh about. She had been the one person he could speak to without any fear.

This scene before him was something else entirely. This was not a son and his mother, joyfully sharing a small piece of an otherwise busy day. This was a meeting between a queen and her heir, with an unwanted guest intruding on an already rather stressful event. The opulence of the room felt as though it only served to make it colder and harder, devoid of anything that could have made it theirs. 

Despite the quality of the food, fit for royalty, Samson found himself unsatisfied. It wasn’t just the surroundings and the overly fine meal. This was exactly the sort of thing Karim would prepare when he arrived to share a dinner. No, the problem here was the people. Even at their most tense and untrusting, Karim would find a way to bring charm to the situation, teasing and enjoying whoever he found himself in the company of. These two, however, couldn’t have been further than that. There was no warmth between them, no intent to have a nice time. There was only cold glaring and slow eating.

“Your meeting with Verand, how did it go?” Elias asked.

“It went as meetings with Verand always go, Elias. It is none of your concern. You need not worry yourself.” She waved him off, taking a bit of the small piece of food in front of her. It was concerning that the communication was so blatantly empty when they were only this far into the meal. If she could shut him down while eating a crostini, then the entree must be worse.

Plates were taken away and a new course set before them. The room was silent, save for the sound of the fire crackling behind them. It was impossible for Samson to feel at home like this. When the king had been alive, before he’d left to fight against Xiang, it had been better. Even after his passing, it had been as though the shared grief brought the pair together in a morbid way. They may not have had Elias’s father to bring joy to the room, but they had each other, and that had been enough.

Elias hadn’t been the closest to his mother when Samson left. It wasn’t as if he was her pride and joy. That honor was bestowed upon Kremal itself. She and her husband had raised it from the ruin the previous generation had left it in, and in comparison to raising one child, she had seemed to find that accomplishment much more exciting. There had always been some distance.

But it had never been so frigid.

Samson found those dark eyes on him as the meal came to close, and finally raised his hands, setting his fork down gently beside his plate. “Is everything alright, Your Highness?” He kept his hands low enough that it would be difficult for Her Majesty to see exactly what he’d said. He wasn’t entirely sure why he felt the need to hide something so innocuous.

“I’m fine,” Elias said, sighing again. He moved his hands, keeping them just as low. “I would like to leave quickly. Decline dessert. Finish your wine.”

Samson nodded. The glare from across the table’s length was not unnoticed, but he paid it little mind. It wasn’t as though acknowledging the way the queen looked at him would change anything. She would still give him bitter glances and remain cold. Nothing he did would change that. So he may as well continue with whatever would benefit Elias most. He sipped his wine, drinking it more slowly than the first glass. It still wouldn’t be enough to impact him much, but it was a delicate blend, and he could imagine all too clearly Karim’s voice in his mind, telling him he needed to savor something so beautiful.

“Who’s saved room for dessert?”

Elias shook his head. “Unfortunately not. Captain?”

Samson repeated the gesture. “Thank you for the meal, Your Majesty. It was lovely.” He moved his hand, reaching for his glass. Karim would forgive him if he swallowed the rest a bit harshly.

When Elias stood, it felt sudden. There was no announcement of his departure, no goodbye or acknowledgement that he was leaving the room. He only rose, and Samson followed behind him. The hallways were as cold and unwelcoming as ever, but even there, the atmosphere changed enough that Samson felt as though he could breathe again. It was lighter here, if still a bit unpleasant. Finding Elias’s room was a relief.

Martin, blessedly, did not seem to be present. Elias collapsed onto his bed, groaning. “She always does this,” he murmured, tossing an arm over his face, burying himself in it. For a moment, Samson almost expected him to scream. He used to do that sometimes– get frustrated and then just shout as loud as he could. But he just lay there. “I tell her I won’t drink, and the second we have a guest, she tries to get me to.”

He sat up, still leaning his weight on his arms as he propped himself up. For a moment, Elias just stared at Samson, and Samson’s heart pounded in his chest. It was difficult to decide how to stand, what to do, how to carry himself. Under Elias’s direct gaze, it was almost impossible.

“I drank too much after…” He shook his head. “I embarrassed myself enough times back then. I refuse to let it happen again, but she keeps trying.” He didn’t frown, but his jaw clenched when he spoke. A moment of quiet passed, and he took a breath, everything softening. “Thank you for doing what you did. I don’t remember the last time I felt like someone was on my side like that.”

Samson’s heart sunk in his chest, and he knelt beside the bed, lowering himself. “I am sorry that you have been so alone.”

Elias shook his head. “It isn’t your fault. It’s not as if you could have been here to change it,” he said with a dry laugh.

He could have. He could have done so much more than he did. If Samson had realized how much would change when he left, he would have found a way. The contract didn’t matter. If Elias was in such a poor state that he would resort to drinking too much, if he was truly so alone, Samsn should have been there. He should have found a way.

It was good that Elias closed his eyes. It was good that he wasn’t listening, because Samson nearly raised his hands to speak to him. He nearly said everything. But he couldn’t. They were so close to this secret no longer having consequences. If he just made it through this wedding, then he would be able to say everything. To apologize.

Maybe. In a perfect world, if Samson were a perfect man, he would tell Elias the first second they were alone after the wedding. If he was an honest man who could face the devastation and the anger and the hatred, he would do that. But for as much as Samson ached to be that strong– Elias deserved that honesty– there was still some terrible piece of him that wanted to be cruel. He wanted to put aside everything, ignore it all, and just be Samson. The pirate that Elias had met, who he enjoyed being around. Who had never betrayed him.

“I’m sure they’ve had a room prepared for you by now, one of the guest rooms across the hall. But… You could stay here, you know.” Elias opened his eyes and they landed heavily upon Samson, searching for a response in his expression. He was testing the waters.

“Would that be appropriate, Your Highness? Someone like me…” It wasn’t right for Samson to pretend he was a man of high enough caliber to stay there. He was, at the end of the day, nothing more than a servant’s child and a pirate. He was not worthy of standing in Elias’s light.

“If your prince requests it, then it is appropriate. You can decline, you know. This isn’t an order. Just an offer.” He paused, trying to find the right words. “I’m not asking you to do anything you wouldn’t like to do. It’s just… it’s been a long time since someone stayed with me.” There was a pang in his voice that Samson didn’t expect. Elias wanted him to stay.

Most likely, he was still comparing him to his friend from before. Maybe Samson would have been insulted by the idea that he was being expected to fill the role of someone that, to Elias at least, he was not. But that sadness in the way he spoke, the knowledge that he had been the one to cause it, he couldn’t deny him.

“I’ll stay as long as you wish.”