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Danya watched with sharp eyes Graydon's unguarded state as he answered the door. The Deinian ran a hand over his face. He looked exhausted. Danya had disturbed him.
Danya took in Graydon's tired expression and his heart skipped a beat. My friend.
But was he still his friend?
The change in Graydon's appearance alone had Danya reeling; what to say of Dein's long-held (mutual) hostility to his people? Would Graydon welcome him or cast him out?
Danya's eyes traveled lower, taking in more of Graydon's presence. He noted that his shirt was open and he saw socked feet.
Well, now. He wasn't the gangly boy he once knew. He had filled out considerably if that lean torso was any indication. Graydon's features were familiar, but Danya found himself standing across from a brand new man. It was surreal.
And then Graydon saw him, saw him and the way his eyes changed seemed to belie what he thought of Danya's unexpected appearance. Danya watched Graydon drop into a bow that seemed so wrong that Danya found himself hurriedly returning it. He felt so self-conscious. Graydon stepped back from the door and Danya sheepishly followed the servant's confident, if unassuming, stride in.
The Heir of Dein was doing this strange bobbing thing as if he was unsure of where he should be and what he should be doing. Poised and strong though he stood, Graydon appeared vulnerable. Danya supposed he hadn't been fair in this surprise appearance and the smallest voice in the back of his mind acknowledged just how easy it would be to sabotage and kill him.
Danya immediately felt sick to his stomach at the intrusive, unwanted thought. He had no intention of taking Dein that way. Immediate disgust with himself saw a tick of a frown grow on his face.
Danya nodded at the departing servant as he passed on his way out the door. The polite manners that Graydon showed the servant were not lost on him.
He would be a benevolent king.
When the first thing that came out of Graydon's mouth was the risk of scandal, Danya froze and the pensive look on his face may have revealed just how little he had considered that possibility. All he had been aware of was his single need to confront the man alone. Perhaps he hadn't thought this through?
Of course he hadn't. And he hated how much he knew the uncertainty was probably showing on his face. He was literally showing a political enemy his throat; so quickly Danya had unconsciously reverted to their childhood dynamics.
He couldn't let that continue, though. Danya feigned disregard.
"I couldn't wait."
It was a simple statement. And then a tag on: "What's one more enemy, then?"
And an attempt at rationalization for his brash actions. "I would think what looked to be a very public poisoning of our closest enemy this afternoon an even more justified cause for concern. I'm simply being vigilant."
Did that sound half-cocked? Danya was certain that sounded half-cocked. And maybe a little strange. Why on earth was he bringing up poisoning around his childhood best friend? Graydon must think him strange. Perhaps, even an enemy. A threat. Danya hoped that Graydon wouldn't pay his idiotic comment any mind but of course he would because this was Graydon.
Oh, dear grief. It was just now sinking in that he was under the eyes of a hawk.
He really hadn't thought this through.
Danya turned away and moved towards one of the chairs near the hearth to sit down. He was perhaps disregarding any social protocol he should have been following. It wasn't a political statement--he was just so tired. Today had already been tiring with the commencement ceremony, but with the least expected reunion he could dream up, too? Danya just needed some closure for today. He wasn't really thinking properly at the moment.
But, luckily, some semblance of self-preservation flashed in his mind and he remembered he was in the presence of a King. Or, at least, a future one--personal history be damned. So Danya paused in sitting down, bowed in apology instead, and remained standing.
Just in time to catch the smile on Graydon's face.
Danya froze for the tenth time that night. Wasn't Graydon upset with him?
Although he felt his chest warm and the overwhelming need to embrace the auburn-haired man set his fingers a-twiching, he couldn't move. He wasn't at all sure what to do.
His mind flashed back to when Graydon had first kissed him. He had felt the same way then.
'It's been quite some time, hasn't it? Goodness, how you've changed,' Graydon commented.
It was so unreal. They were together again. Danya tried to get his mouth working.
"Yes, it has. Ten years, at least. A lot has changed. You have, too... Your Majesty," Danya apinned, not unironically. Danya looked meaningfully at Graydon now, even though the man's eyes still saw through him in their eery way. "How are you? Really? I..."
How could Graydon even manage to smile? Danya felt as if there wasn't enough air in the room. He was beginning to become increasingly light-headed. He tried to continue on. He wanted to tell Graydon how much he had missed him but he felt that it was somehow inappropriate given their current situation.
He could still speak how he felt--just... maybe about something else.
"You never told me you were a prince," Danya made an attempt at humor but it just came out sounding bitter. "I should have known--only a prince would be brave enough not to run when he came across a wild boy in the forest." The dark-haired man thought back to their first meeting in the Deep. He had been so afraid and unsure while Graydon had been calm and sensical.
'Just more qualities of a king,' Danya thought to himself. Qualities that he feared he himself did not possess.
Danya gripped the back of the seat that stood in front of the fireplace. He worried the wood trim with blunt nails, a nervous tick.
His eyes found the floor. And then they found the wall, the brilliant tapestries hung from it. Anywhere but where he needed to look.
"What on earth have you been up to all these years?" Danya sort of chuckled, sort of whined. He finally found the courage to say what he really wanted to once he met the grays of the other man's eyes again:
"I didn't think I would ever seen you again. I have missed you, Gra--" Danya caught himself.
He could no longer call him that.
He changed the subject.
"I hope you don't mind if I sit, Your Majesty. Today has been particularly trying." Danya licked his lips and pulled at his high collar. He realized that sitting would mean he was staying; Graydon may not want that.