Royal Indiscretion, chapter 44 (Patreon)

Yves studied the small room. Chrome benches padded with red plastic stood in lines perpendicular to a large window that overlooked the planes as they pulled away from the airport. Against one wall stood a glass fronted refrigerator that had tiny bottles of water and soda and a selection of sweets that resembled cardboard was on the adjacent counter. Yves tightened his grip on his one small bag. “So what do we do now?”

“We wait.” Doug started across the room.

Yves followed. “We wait for what?”

“For the airplane to be ready.” Doug chose a padded bench in the corner of the room. Near the window, two people sat on the floor next to a plug-in and a small family grouping had claimed the bench on the opposite side of the room.

“Why did they ask us to get here so early if we were then going to have to wait?”

Doug’s pursed his lips and then said in a dramatic voice, “That is an excellent question.”

“And what would be the excellent answer?” Yves sat next to Doug and set his bag at his feet.

“I have no idea. But if there’s a problem at security and you miss the plane, they do not reimburse you.”

Security had been a bit of a nightmare. Apparently Yves's passport was unique, but since the only passports Yves had ever seen belonged to his family members, he had not realized that. It had taken three agents and their supervisor to decide that Yves legitimately carried a royal passport as opposed to being some sort of moron who decided to forge the least practical form of personal identification known to man. Had it not been for Doug's steadying hand on his arm, Yves would have made a few sarcastic comments about their relative intelligence. Or lack thereof. “We had trouble at security, and apparently we are still so early that we have to wait.”

“Everyone has to wait. It's a rule when it comes to airports.”

“I dislike this rule.” Doug had the audacity to smirk at him. “But since I don't want to miss our flight, I'm going to play by their rules, including showing up early to so that we can sit in here and wait.”

Doug’s smirk grew wider. “Face it, it could be worse.”

Yves turned toward him. “And how is that?”

“This is the first class lounge. We could be flying coach.”

Yves knew that coach had fewer amenities, but he would not mourn the loss of sweets that looked so unappetizing that no one had touched them. “What's the difference?”

“In coach, you have three times as many seats in the same amount of space.” Doug gestured toward the room.

“But doesn't that leave everyone terribly crowded?” Certainly the walking areas were stuffed with mobs of people, but Yves could not imagine waiting areas with such congestion. 

“Oh yes. And on the airplane, people who fly coach have this much space in their seat.” Doug held out his hands and they were close enough together that Yves wasn't sure a person could fit in the space and still have room to breathe.

“Now I know you are teasing me.”

“When we get on the plane, I'll let you take a quick sneak peek at coach, and then you tell me if I'm kidding.” Doug raised his eyebrows, but his expression appeared knowing and serious.

“You’re not teasing?”

“Not even a little. We’re in first class so we’ll have room to spread out some, but it's still not going to be like a private plane. You can't just get up and wander the aisle, or you can, but people will start staring at you like you're a freak and eventually the stewardess will ask you to take your seat.”

Yves leaned back on the bench and ran a hand over his face. He felt like he had been dropped on a new planet and told to figure out how to deal with the natives. Only Yves suspected he was the alien in this scenario. “Do you remember when you told me that you were oddly anticipating being able to listen to another human being complain?”

Doug grinned. “Yeah?”

“We are very shortly going to be able to test that hypothesis.”

Doug laughed. Yves shook his head and looked out at the airplanes again. This is a new world, and he didn't know any of the rules. He had thought that because he spoke the same language is Doug that he would understand Doug’s world, but he didn't. “If I make a fool of myself, you have to tell me.”

“What are you talking about?”

Yves gestured at the room. “All of this. It's all so different. It's not just that I'm changing countries, but I am literally changing the universe I live in. Royals don't have to deal with any of this.”

“I figured that out already. Your shock is a tiny bit amusing.” Doug held up a finger and thumb an inch apart.

“I’m glad I can provide entertainment during this period of boredom, but I am more concerned about being offensive. I'm not used to this world that apparently everyone else lives in. And I'm terrified I'm going to embarrass you or embarrass myself because I don't know the rules of it.” Yves had suffered enough embarrassment for a lifetime already, and he didn't want to start a whole new life by reinforcing the idea that he was incompetent. He had lived that reality long enough, and it was time for him to define himself another way.

Doug caught his hand and squeezed it. He was so tactile, and Yves found that he needed that point of contact to hang onto. “First, you would never embarrass me. You are ethical and strong and stubborn.” From his tone, Doug admired that last trait, which was a refreshing change. Doug continued. “And you are beautiful and so far out of my class that I can't even believe I managed to get you to look at me.”

“Don't say that,” Yves snapped. “You are an Adonis among men, and as I understand it, in America, American football is as good as royalty.”

For a time, Doug just smiled at him. It was a soft expression, full of wonder. “And that right there is your best quality,” he eventually said. “You have so much empathy, and given how much shit life has thrown at your head, your ability to still be a good person and to sympathize with others makes you the sexiest man on earth.”

Yves had not expected that. The compliment made him uncomfortable in ways he couldn’t describe. It was like an itch, but one on sunburnt skin that one didn’t dare scratch. “So you want me for my sympathy. Not my body?” Yves joked.

“I like your body, too.” Doug added a lewd look.

Leaning closer, Yves said, “Good because I had hoped we could enjoy carnal pleasures on a fairly regular basis.” 

“Oh, we definitely will.” Doug had a wicked grin, but after a second, his eyes shifted. 

Yves followed the line of Doug's gaze and found the father was watching them with a frown. “Have I transgressed some mores?” Yves asked.

Doug shrugged. “It depends on who you ask. Some people don't like public displays of affection. They call them PDAs. Some people just don’t like it when it's two men.” Doug’s expression turned hard as he stared at the father, and after a minute or so, the other man broke away, focusing on his family again. Then Doug looked at Yves and smiled.

“That's rather discriminatory.” But also what Yves had expected. Yves understood that his title and his father’s wealth had protected him from the worst of humanity. People were usually too busy trying to get something out of Yves to insult him.

“Human beings are,” Doug agreed with a shrug.

“Then I shall avoid PDAs so that I do not draw attention to us.” Yves tried to withdraw his hand.

Doug tightened his hold. “I don't give a shit what other people think. I am not embarrassed to love you or to let the whole world know you love me back. In fact, I'm rather proud of that.” Doug looked back in the direction of the family. “So the rest of the world can suck eggs. I am quite happily going to sit here and hold my boyfriend's hand.”

Yves smiled so broadly that his cheeks ached. “I am tempted to call you sappy. Did I use that word correctly?” 

“You did, and I would object to the characterization of my manliness,” Doug flexed his arms, “only it's kind of true.” He shrugged.

“So what do we do now?”

With a sigh, Doug leaned back. “We sit here and play with our phones until such time as they make an announcement that our plane is boarding.”

“How long will that take?”

“If they’re on time, it's going to be one or two hours.”

Yves groaned. “Your phrasing suggests that they may not be on time.”

“Oh yeah,” Doug said in a rather ominous tone. Sometimes you wait for hours, and sometimes for days.”

Yves closed his eyes. He had a number of games on the new phone Doug had purchased for him, but the idea of that much inaction was horrifying. Either Doug had an unkind sense of humor or Yves was going to find this adjustment more difficult than he had anticipated. Well, he had survived worse, so if this new world included a lot of boredom, he would adjust. Besides, he needed to review his Arabic. He pulled his phone out and put on earbuds before starting the Arabic news. 

He settled in for a long wait and an intense period of depression as he listened to a news anchor explain all the horrors of the world. He was midway through a minor genocide when his phone rang, interrupting the news report. Half expecting that this would be a wrong number as someone attempted to reach the previous owner of this particular number, Yves answered.

A tentative woman said, “Yves?”

He frowned. The voice was familiar. “Yes. To whom am I speaking?”

“This is Queen Fenella.”

Yves sat bolt upright in his chair. “Your Majesty.” He stopped, not sure what else to say. Getting a phone call from Queen Fenella was unprecedented.  Yves only realized he was speaking too loudly when the others in the room turned to look at him. Yves stood and Doug gave him a questioning look. With a slight shrug, Yves moved to the window, leaving his back to the others. Doug quickly moved to stand just behind him, Doug's bulk blocking Yves from view. “Is the king all right?” Yves asked, his stomach knotting.

“King Alfonse is speaking with Parliament right now. I offered to call you because you should hear this from family.” She stopped.

The knot in Yves’s stomach grew. “What happened?” It was rude to demand answers of the queen, but Yves did not have the patience to wait for her to formulate her thoughts.

“Your father has died.”

Yves's knees went weak and he would've fallen to the floor only Doug caught him with an arm around the waist. He plucked the phone from Yves's hand. “Who is this? What did you say to him?” He practically growled the words. Yves caught his breath and took the phone back. Surprisingly, Doug surrendered it easily. 

“I apologize, your majesty,” Yves said. “You startled me and I lost my balance. Doug was concerned.” He looked over his shoulder, and Doug still looked concerned. He tightened his arms around Yves.

“I am glad that you found someone who will take care of your needs,” Queen Fenella said. “I regret telling you this over the phone, but it appears he killed himself.”

Yves couldn’t breathe. “I talked to him yesterday.” Yves was painfully aware of what they had spoken of. He had threatened his father. They had threatened him. And now he was dead. A wave of guilt rose.

Before Yves could say anything else, Queen Fenella spoke in a far more urgent tone. “Do not worry about that. Whatever happened between yourself and your father, your father's choices are his own. He chose to leave this world. He chose it. I am not greatly surprised given that I know what kind of man your father was. It might not be acceptable to speak ill of the dead, but I am willing to break with tradition to say this: You are a better man than your father. Albert is a better man than your father. And now, Albert will be a better king than your father would have been.” Her words washed over him, taking away some of the guilt, but not all of it. Far from all of it.

“How?” he asked.

“The details don't matter.” She made a small, derisive noise. “You shouldn't even care about them. Your uncle has gone to make a public speech to Parliament. He is telling the country about his illness and about the need to prepare for Albert to be king. You need to know that the press will likely be far more interested in your circumstances for the near future.”

“But I… I should come back.” Albert would want to have the grand ceremonies and close ranks around the family.

“No,” Queen Fenella said, and that one word derailed Yves’s thoughts. He couldn’t imagine a world where he didn’t return to the castle. Her voice was softer when she spoke again. “I understand from Hagan that you have a job and a life waiting for you. You should move forward. We will be here when you are ready to visit, but it's time for you to have a life.” She hesitated. “It's past time for you to have a life. With Albert taking the throne, I believe it's important that he understand the family history. He has to know how power can corrupt a person from the inside, how it weakens them.”

“Your Majesty?” Yves’s brain was not able to process any additional information. Subtext was beyond his mental ability at this point.

“You owe me nothing, and you owe this family less. Go and be happy. And perhaps… perhaps you would like to send me some pictures of your new life. I would very much like to think that the inaction of good people has not caused permanent harm.”

“It hasn't.” Yves hated the idea that the queen would blame herself. Duke Gerard was the only one to blame, and he was the one person who never would have taken responsibility. And now he was gone. Yves felt numb. Even Doug’s arms around him were distant echoes.  

When he had started using drugs, it had been a way to thumb his nose at his father's authority. It had been a way to identify himself as something other than a royal. He'd been a rebel, a bad boy, someone who took Lord Sava as a friend and later as a lover even though socially, he was much lower in status. 

Eventually, drugs had become as necessary as air, but that's not how it had started. But now, now Yves could see how his actions had actually hurt people who had never wanted anything other than the best for him, and that inspired guilt. Queen Fenella was in an impossible position, watching the man she loved die by inches while her royal titles and duties prevented her from screaming out her frustration. Yves would not add one ounce more to the burdens she already carried.

“I have a man I care about, on that cares about me.” Yves looked over his shoulder, and worry had etched deep lines on Doug’s face. “I’m starting a new life, and anything that led me to this point is worth it for what I have a chance at now.”

“I am glad,” Queen Fenella said. “The king has always thought highly of you, and he respects your beau. Please come back and visit us, but right now I need to call Albert. He and Mary should hear this before the press finds out.”

“Of course. Thank you for calling me.” Polite words came out automatically. Yves wished he could say something more meaningful, but he didn’t have the words. After thanking her for the call, he disconnected and then stood staring at his phone.

His father was dead. His father had killed himself after realizing the lengths that Doug and Yves would go to. Yves turned and looked at Doug. From the expression on Doug’s face, he wanted to know what the call had been about, but Yves could not speak.