[ graves would die for him in a heartbeat; he would be buried as a traitor for his sake -- but credence is as gentle-hearted as he is clever, and he knows he won't be able to do it. it's why graves loves him, why he's so fiercely protective over his young prince, the young man that he loves beyond jus tabout anything else.
he can feel him trembling, the intake of breath as he grasps him, and graves allows him this, reveling in the small bit of affection that he's been given. he supports him wordlessly, guiding him into the tub and he looks down at the swirl of pink, the blood that flows. at least it's not a deep crimson, but he knows how much it hurts. ]
It will stop hurting soon. [ he says quietly, kneeling by his tub with another clean towel. he dips it into the water, before he gently cleans his face, rinsing it again to let the water flow down his shoulders. ]
You'll sleep sweetly tonight, my prince. I'll keep you company until daybreak.
[ credence knows that graves would die for him, would be branded a traitor just to help him, but he won't ever do that to him. he loves him too much, wants him by his side always. it's the smallest selfishness but it's all he'll grant himself - keeping the man that he cares most for alive and safe. he wants that even more than the crown, which is certainly saying something.
at first he trembles slightly but graves' soothing touch helps him to calm and relax and he leans into it, eyes lidding almost shut. ] Thank you, but it must be uncomfortable to do. I don't want to put you out in that way. [ but he also can't invite him to share the bed with him - unheard of and inappropriate even if it would help him sleep even more.
eventually he's steady enough to assist in washing himself and he's looking down and away when he speaks again. ] I am thinking of doing something very rash. A hunting trip into the mountains.
[ credence doesn't hunt. however, a man lives in the mountains. a sorcerer that can kill without leaving a trace as to how or why. credence lifts his head slightly to look at graves, solemn and quiet. ] Will you go with me?
[ graves asks. he knows what's in there, how so many people actively work not to go in there unless absolutely necessary. he knows the rumors that swirl around the place, the whispers of magic and pain and wishes fulfilled. graves looks back at him in surprise, wary -- what is credence thinking, what does he want to do there?
his charge is solemn and quiet, serious and unwavering, and he wonders if he knows what he's asking, because the price they will have to pay is high, but perhaps it's warranted; how long can credence suffer under this woman, taking her abuse day after day? one day, she will kill him, and graves will not let that happen.
his fingers come to gently cup his chin, thumb brushing over credence's lower lip briefly, tentatively. ] Yes, of course. [ just the two of them. ] Your mother will be busy tomorrow, she will not notice you gone.
[ past time, really. credence does not know what cost will be dragged from them but he won't let it be pulled from graves. this is his fight and his servant will not bear more suffering than necessary - no, he needs him along as a guide, as help if he can't return home on his own. he knows graves well enough to know that he may try to take on the cost himself and he would try to go without him if he could but there's just no way and he trusts no one else.
he smiles and it's tired - but then graves is right there touching his chin, his lip, and he sucks in a breath that's just barely shaking. his hand, damp from the bath, comes up to grasp at graves' shoulder lightly, head bowed forward. ] Tomorrow cannot come soon enough.
[ graves has a vague idea of what credence intends to do, even if he doesn't have specifics -- there are times when even credence's thoughts are shaded from him, and now, too; even if the intent is clear. credence intends to do something about his mother for the sake of his kingdom, and graves would follow him wherever he goes, would pay any price for his prince's sake. ]
I will follow you to the ends of the earth. [ he murmurs, washing him, gentle and kind -- he is a fierce warrior, merciless and efficient, but in moments like these he is what credence needs him to be. he leans forward to let credence rest on him, a hand coming to gently curve over the back of his neck in comfort. ] It'll come when it comes. I would rather have some time left with you.
Hopefully we will not have to go that far. [ his voice is soft and his eyes are closed as he leans into the comforting touch, knees drawn up almost to his chest. he knows that graves would do anything for him and credence loves him for it. loves him too much, likely, but there's little to be done for that.
still, he manages a faint smile. ] You will have all my free time, Percival Graves. Every moment of it.
[ he tips his head again and in the process his lips just barely graze graves' jaw - whether it's on purpose or not is unclear, but the gesture is there and he makes no move to take it back. ] It must be uncomfortable to sit up all night.
[ his beloved prince makes a promise that graves will hold him to, but not now -- not when he's trying to care for himself. he pauses when he feels it, those lips brushing along his jaw; and he wonders if it's by accident or on purpose, even when his pulse leaps and he's never been more aware of his proximity.
he's reaching for a towel to wash him off, and boldly presses his forehead to his, taking a breath as he wonders if it's possible for his prince to feel as he does -- if it matters. the most important thing here is credence and his crown; he will do whatever it takes to restore him to the throne.
he takes a breath. ] It doesn't matter. I'm used to worse.
[ they're so close. they're so close and he loves him and graves has pressed their foreheads together and credence thinks he may die tomorrow to save his country and his breath catches. he doesn't mean to; it's instinctive and accidental but it's there.
he tips his head and their noses brush but there's nothing else - his movement is a little stilted, almost like he's frightened of what's happening. maybe he is, but he wants it nonetheless.
his eyes don't open. ] I don't want you to be uncomfortable.
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he can feel him trembling, the intake of breath as he grasps him, and graves allows him this, reveling in the small bit of affection that he's been given. he supports him wordlessly, guiding him into the tub and he looks down at the swirl of pink, the blood that flows. at least it's not a deep crimson, but he knows how much it hurts. ]
It will stop hurting soon. [ he says quietly, kneeling by his tub with another clean towel. he dips it into the water, before he gently cleans his face, rinsing it again to let the water flow down his shoulders. ]
You'll sleep sweetly tonight, my prince. I'll keep you company until daybreak.
no subject
at first he trembles slightly but graves' soothing touch helps him to calm and relax and he leans into it, eyes lidding almost shut. ] Thank you, but it must be uncomfortable to do. I don't want to put you out in that way. [ but he also can't invite him to share the bed with him - unheard of and inappropriate even if it would help him sleep even more.
eventually he's steady enough to assist in washing himself and he's looking down and away when he speaks again. ] I am thinking of doing something very rash. A hunting trip into the mountains.
[ credence doesn't hunt. however, a man lives in the mountains. a sorcerer that can kill without leaving a trace as to how or why. credence lifts his head slightly to look at graves, solemn and quiet. ] Will you go with me?
no subject
[ graves asks. he knows what's in there, how so many people actively work not to go in there unless absolutely necessary. he knows the rumors that swirl around the place, the whispers of magic and pain and wishes fulfilled. graves looks back at him in surprise, wary -- what is credence thinking, what does he want to do there?
his charge is solemn and quiet, serious and unwavering, and he wonders if he knows what he's asking, because the price they will have to pay is high, but perhaps it's warranted; how long can credence suffer under this woman, taking her abuse day after day? one day, she will kill him, and graves will not let that happen.
his fingers come to gently cup his chin, thumb brushing over credence's lower lip briefly, tentatively. ] Yes, of course. [ just the two of them. ] Your mother will be busy tomorrow, she will not notice you gone.
no subject
[ past time, really. credence does not know what cost will be dragged from them but he won't let it be pulled from graves. this is his fight and his servant will not bear more suffering than necessary - no, he needs him along as a guide, as help if he can't return home on his own. he knows graves well enough to know that he may try to take on the cost himself and he would try to go without him if he could but there's just no way and he trusts no one else.
he smiles and it's tired - but then graves is right there touching his chin, his lip, and he sucks in a breath that's just barely shaking. his hand, damp from the bath, comes up to grasp at graves' shoulder lightly, head bowed forward. ] Tomorrow cannot come soon enough.
no subject
I will follow you to the ends of the earth. [ he murmurs, washing him, gentle and kind -- he is a fierce warrior, merciless and efficient, but in moments like these he is what credence needs him to be. he leans forward to let credence rest on him, a hand coming to gently curve over the back of his neck in comfort. ] It'll come when it comes. I would rather have some time left with you.
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still, he manages a faint smile. ] You will have all my free time, Percival Graves. Every moment of it.
[ he tips his head again and in the process his lips just barely graze graves' jaw - whether it's on purpose or not is unclear, but the gesture is there and he makes no move to take it back. ] It must be uncomfortable to sit up all night.
no subject
he's reaching for a towel to wash him off, and boldly presses his forehead to his, taking a breath as he wonders if it's possible for his prince to feel as he does -- if it matters. the most important thing here is credence and his crown; he will do whatever it takes to restore him to the throne.
he takes a breath. ] It doesn't matter. I'm used to worse.
no subject
he tips his head and their noses brush but there's nothing else - his movement is a little stilted, almost like he's frightened of what's happening. maybe he is, but he wants it nonetheless.
his eyes don't open. ] I don't want you to be uncomfortable.