(no subject)
Part One
Dear Sam,
I wanted to let you know that I'm fine and my mother is fine. A relative in the capital is injured and needs to be cared for, so we're going to be staying there for the time being.
I'm going to be busy helping out, so I won't have a lot of time, but I'll try to write when I can. If you'd like to write me, you can direct your letters to the inn.
I'd really like it if you wrote.
Anyway, like I said, I'm pretty busy. My mother's calling me now to get going, or I'd say more. I'll write again soon.
Jensen
*
"Oh, Jensen, there you are," says his mother when he comes out of his room.
"Hello, Jensen," says Misha, sitting across from her, with a wave, casual as anything.
Jensen stares. "Misha? What the hell--"
"Misha's mother, Helena, is your father's most trusted adviser," says his mother with a calm smile. "Misha kindly agreed to keep an eye on you."
"Keep an eye on me," Jensen repeats, groaning. "Since when?"
"Since I met you," says Misha cheerfully. "I wasn't your roommate by accident."
"So, what, you went to Mycroft to spy on me?"
"Of course not," says Misha. "I went to Mycroft for the same reason all nobles go there--to make valuable connections and become exposed to the world outside of their own court. But I was happy to shift my focus from my studies to keeping an eye on you."
"You still studied."
"Not much. I spent a lot of time spying on you. You were very interesting."
"And now you're just leaving?"
Misha shrugs. "I never cared that much about graduating. I've learned all I need to. Besides," he adds, with a little smirk, "my country needs me."
"This is why you were always so pissed when I wasn't making friends with influential people," says Jensen, shooting him a betrayed glare.
"Princess Danneel likes you," says Misha. "That's more than I expected, honestly."
"Your faith in me is stunning."
"Jensen," says Misha. "I have a matter of months to transform you from seamstress's son into prince. Believe me when I say it is going to take a miracle."
*
Dear Jensen,
It's so good to hear from you. I was pretty worried when you just disappeared, and then Misha--I thought maybe something awful was happening in Genovia and we hadn't heard about it yet. I'm really glad to hear you're okay, and I hope your relative feels better soon.
I wish I had interesting things to tell you from here, but everything's been pretty dull and ordinary. Next time, I'll either have a lot of things to report on, or I'll make some up. I won't tell you which, of course, so keep in mind that every exciting piece of news could be a total lie.
I don't know if you're planning to come back here when your relative recovers. I'm not sure if I want you to tell me or not. If you are coming back, I'll be impatient, and if you're not, I'll be inconsolable. And not knowing I'll just wonder all the time.
I'm going to stop before I become any more pathetic. Good health to you and all your relations.
S
*
"When I'm king, I'm decreeing that everyone only needs one fork, one spoon, and one knife," Jensen grumbles.
He'd scoffed when Misha had been so melodramatic about his chances of learning how to be a prince, but after a week of lessons, Jensen is rapidly realizing that there's a lot more to it than acting better than other people. While Mycroft had been much more rigid than his last school, it also hadn't been anything like real high society.
"Of course not," Misha had said. "It's an academy, not a dinner party."
Now, Misha looks like he desperately wants to assassinate Jensen with a fork, either out of anger or to save Genovia from him. Jensen couldn't blame him for either. "It's not that complicated," says Misha.
"It's more complicated than it needs to be. It's not like the salad is going to not get eaten if I use a dinner fork."
"It's very simple," says Misha. "You start outside and go in."
"I can do it," says Jensen. He thinks he might be pouting. "I'm just against it on principle."
"Look, Jensen. You're a prince," says Misha. "People have certain expectations of a prince. "You're handsome, definitely. You look the part. But you aren't going to give anyone any confidence in you if you don't--"
"Use five forks correctly?" asks Jensen dubiously.
"Fine," Misha grants. "Maybe your citizens won't know if you can't tell a soup spoon from a dessert spoon. But the nobles will, and the nobility from other countries."
"Danneel doesn't care."
Misha squeezes a knife in a worryingly strong grasp. "Jensen. It is taking everything in my power to not stab you in the hand right now."
"Sorry," says Jensen sheepishly. "It's just--this is a lot to take in, Misha. I'm a king, and I'm supposed to act king-like, and I barely got through Mycroft without everyone thinking I was a hick."
"We'll get through," says Misha. "Just be advised I might stab you in a non-fatal part of your body at some point in the proceedings."
"I wouldn't blame you," says Jensen. "Dessert fork?" he tries, holding one up.
"Salad fork. But they're both small, so--you're close."
Jensen groans.
*
Jensen meets his father for the first time a week after he arrives in the capital, once his doctors say he's well enough to have visitors. Jensen wonders what part of a back injury makes visitors a hazard, but he's privately glad to have had time to prepare himself. He still can't quite connect it in his head--his father is alive, his father is the king.
The meeting itself is very secret--only Misha and their mothers are there, and his father is still in bedridden. Jensen thinks, if it was him, he'd be feeling restless. Maybe it's hereditary.
"Jensen," he says warmly, smiling. "You have no idea how good it is to see you, my boy."
It's strange, because this is the king. Jensen has seen portraits of him, can almost recognize him, but it's his father. His father, who's never met him before.
"Hello, your majesty."
The king's smile falters a little. "You can call me father."
Jensen swallows. "Father."
"Come over so I can see you. I've heard so much about you from your mother, but--" he laughs, looking down while he does it. Jensen laughs the same way, and it makes his stomach lurch. "I'm sorry I could never be a father to you. I wanted to be."
Jensen approaches slowly. He's not so old--of course, he shouldn't be, he's the same age as Jensen's mother, but he looks much more tired than his mother ever has. "I understand," he says, making his mind up about it as he goes. "You were trying to do what's best for me."
"Yes," he says softly. He looks like he might be crying. "You'll have to come often," he says, recovering his voice. "I can tell you about being the king. And you can tell me about yourself."
Jensen nods. "I'll come as often as Misha lets me go."
"He needs a lot of work, your majesty," says Misha.
His father smiles. His eyes are the same color as Jensen's. "I think he's perfect."
*
Dear Sam,
You're a horrible liar, I can't imagine you'll be any better on paper than you are in person. Remember when you tried to convince me you were hitting the right note in that song and everyone else was off? I wasn't convinced.
I got to see my father today. He lives in the city, so I saw him rarely as a child. It was--strange. I knew he never chose to be away from me, but I didn't realize how hard it was on him to not see me. I'm not sure what I think you're going to get out of this. I don't have a lot of exciting things to report on--it's all sick relatives, and I won't bore you with the details of his care. He should make a full recovery.
As for what happens when he's better, I don't have good news for you. My mother wants me to remain in the capital. I wish you were here, and I'd tell you everything, but there are things I can't put in letters. But even if I stay here--I'd like to see you again.
My mother is calling for me. I'll write again as soon as I can.
Jensen
*
"Is that another letter for Sam?" his mother asks, smiling as Jensen gives the envelope to the innkeeper.
"What?" he asks, flushing. "What do you mean?"
She shakes her head. "Jensen, it was obvious from the first time you mentioned him in your letters home. You're in love with him."
Jensen sighs. He doesn't understand how it is that everyone in the world knows exactly how he feels about Sam. He didn't think he was so obvious. "I didn't think it would be a big deal," he says finally. "Who cares if two minor noblemen marry each other? We were both so far down I figured--"
"And now you're going to be king," she says, squeezing his hand. "I know."
"I can't even tell him."
"Well, you know," his mother says thoughtfully, "I can imagine that the royal court has had its fill of kings not being married. And Misha assures me he's a very nice young man."
"He is," says Jensen. He licks his lip. "He's--yes."
His mother laughs. "And I've heard he's quite enamored of you, too."
"I really hope so."
"Then cheer up," she says, with a smile. "I think the court would rather you married a serf than stayed single forever."
"He's not a serf," Jensen protests.
"Exactly," says his mother fondly. "So you have nothing to worry about at all."
*
Dear Jensen,
Sam is moping like you wouldn't believe. I'm sure he's trying to put up a strong front in his letters, but he misses you terribly. In case you were wondering.
I hope your relative is recovering well. Please put Sam out of his misery as soon as you can.
Love,
Danneel
*
"Name the cabinet members."
"Lord Singer, Lord Manners, Lord Beaver, Lady Ferris, Lady Ostroff, Lady Collins," says Jensen.
"Points off for listing my mother last," says Misha. "But other than that, good job."
"I'm getting better," says Jensen. He groans. "When am I supposed to be ready for the public again?"
"As soon as possible. No reason to keep you a secret, especially if there's a plot against him. No one will want to kill him if he's got a legitimate heir."
"They'll want to kill me instead?"
Misha regards him seriously. "No, I imagine it would make them singularly unpopular. You're an attractive, good-natured young man. Your father clearly adores you. The story of his and your mother's thwarted love will have everyone on their side, and make them predisposed to love you. You'll be exactly what they want in a prince. If you die, no one will think it was natural, and no one will like the next ruler."
"That's not reassuring."
"It's not my job to be reassuring," says Misha mildly. "It's my job to tell you the truth."
"And the truth is, people might try to kill me."
"Yes."
"Thanks, Misha."
"Any time."
*
Dear Jensen,
I've pretty much run out of lies to tell you about how exciting my life at Mycroft is. The truth of the matter is that I miss you terribly, and I'm excited for the summer just so I won't remember how much better all my classes were when you were in them. Instead I'm sure I'll think of how much I wish you were everywhere when I'm home. I don't know why I'm admitting this to you, because, let me tell you, it's incredibly embarrassing. Although it isn't as if you don't know you're my best friend (I hope).
My mother must have noticed my general tone of inconsolability, because she told me I should ask you to come visit us this summer. Of course, I wanted to ask you already, but I feel more legitimate once my mother has told me I should. I know you're busy with your family, and I wouldn't dream of asking you to leave them. But should you have any time, let me know.
I'd love to see you.
S
*
Jensen has been visiting his father for an hour every day. Misha thinks he's being trained, but they mostly just talk. Jensen is a little embarrassed by how pleased his father is to see him every day; it makes him feel strange to be loved so much, to think about how sad his father must have been to have missed his childhood. He feels guilty for not yet being able to think of his as a father, although it gets easier every day.
His other lessons get easier as well. As it turns out, he's naturally diplomatic, and Misha applauds his willingness to be firm as well as compromise. Jensen thought everyone mastered that, eventually, but apparently not. Having to mediate between Chris and the Dohring boy from down the street apparently has its regal advantages.
He still feels out-of-place in the castle. Misha tells him once he's actually living there, it will be better, but Jensen can't imagine that. It's still too big for him to comprehend.
So, of course, that's when, just when he's found his bearings, Misha says, "We need to talk. Come on."
"Talk about what?"
"Come on," says Misha, and drags him up to his own mother's room.
"Oh, you brought him," says his mother. Misha's mother is there as well, which means it must be serious. "Good."
"What is it?"
"Your castle visits are finally starting to attract notice."
"Finally?" asks Jensen. "It's only been a few months. And I thought we didn't want me noticed."
"Not right away," Misha's mother hedges. "But we have to--there are appearances to be considered, Jensen."
"Meaning?"
"Meaning, we want to announce that you are the prince."
Jensen stares at her. "I thought we weren't doing that until I was ready."
"You are ready," says Misha.
"Why is that your call and not mine?" asks Jensen, glaring at him.
"Because I'm smarter than you," he says matter-of-factly. "We want to do the coronation in the early summer," he continues, "and it's important that your people get to know you before that."
"It is?"
"How would you feel to have a prince you'd never heard of?" asks Misha.
"I had a king I'd never seen," Jensen points out. "It's not a huge deal to me."
"If you lived here in the city, it would be," says his mother. "The coronation is going to be in three weeks."
"Three weeks?" he almost shouts.
"It's the same day as your father's coronation as king," says Misha's mother. "It will symbolically link you and help the people accept you as his successor."
Jensen rubs his forehead. "So, what, we're announcing me--"
"In about two hours," says Misha's mother. "Your father is getting ready. You need to put on something nicer--we'll move your things to the castle while you meet the court."
"But--"
"Misha will help you," says his mother sweetly. "We'll be waiting downstairs."
"I thought princes were supposed to be in charge of things," mutters Jensen, as Misha drags him to his room.
"Common mistake," says Misha. "You're just here to look pretty and do what we tell you."
"At least I'm pretty, then," Jensen mutters. "Can I get a quick letter to Sam off before we leave?"
"You want to write to your boyfriend more than you want to be prince?"
"I want to tell him," says Jensen. "And invite him to the coronation. Three weeks is cutting it close."
Misha sighs. "You're going to be the first king in history to marry a nobody from Tyre."
"I'm going to be the first king in history to have to prove he's not a bastard or a fraud too," says Jensen. "I'm just going to be breaking ground left and right."
*
Dear Sam,
I don't know if this letter will reach you before you hear on your own, but I hope it will. I wanted to tell you the truth as soon as I found it out, but I wasn't allowed to tell anyone, and a letter isn't a very secure place to say anything secret.
So, this is my formal announcement to you--I'm the Prince of Genovia. My coronation is in in three weeks, and I doubt I'll have much time to visit you, but I want you to come to the coronation.
I miss you too.
Jensen
*
"So, are you ready?" asks his father cheerfully.
"Define ready."
"Well, you're dressed, you're awake, and I assume you're capable of smiling. That's a good start."
"How many people you're introducing me to today are going to want to kill me?" he asks.
"No one is going to kill you."
"I'm just curious."
"Lady Ostroff, Lord Lehne, and Lord Cassidy are currently both forerunners for the position. Lord Cassidy will probably try to get you to marry his daughter to take the throne in that way. Lady Aycox and Lord Spence have less of a claim to the throne, but are most adamant about their credentials."
"So, only four."
"You'll have bodyguards," says his father. "And the support of all those in the court who still like me," he adds. "Which is a not inconsiderable number. For the most part, the court would prefer I had an heir. And here you are, and you're perfect."
Jensen flushes. "I'm inexperienced and uncouth."
"Those things can be changed. The things that can't be changed, the things that must be part of you--those, you have."
"Plus, you're very attractive, and any number of young women in the court will be horrified you're already spoken for," says Misha. "Good morning, your majesty," he adds to the king.
"Good morning, young Lord Collins. You're spoken for?" he asks Jensen.
"Not--" he glares at Misha. "I have--there's someone," he says finally. "We haven't made any kind of agreement."
"But he's gone on him," says Misha helpfully. "So even if they haven't set a date, Jensen is unavailable."
"You'll have to tell me about him later," says Jensen's father. "I want to know everything."
"I hate you," Jensen tells Misha.
"You're the one who insisted on not getting dressed until you'd written to him. So you could invite him to your coronation."
"As amusing as it is to watch my son squirm," says his father, "it's time to present Jensen to the court."
"You could make me squirm a little longer," says Jensen. Apparently being grilled about Sam is much more appealing than being introduced to a room full of potential assassins. It's good to know.
"Oh, you'll be fine," says Misha, and Jensen begins his illustrious career as a prince by being shoved into his own throne room.
*
It's surprising to Jensen just how different his father is when he's King. As soon as they enter the throne room, full of the most important members of the court, he's instantly regal. He stands taller, looks more commanding, and the gentle smile Jensen has seen so often is gone.
Jensen tries to do the same, to look important and as if he belongs, and not as if it's incomprehensible to him that he's in the throne room. And also as if he hadn't been forced in there against his will.
He stands in front of the chair to the left of the throne and tries to ignore the murmurs and stares he receives as his father takes his place.
"Your attention please," says the king, and everyone quiets at once. "Be seated," he says, and Jensen sits with everyone else. "There have been rumors recently," he says, "of my meeting with a stranger in my private chambers. I know you're all very concerned about this, and I apologize for not having informed you all of the truth earlier." He smiles. "The truth is that this is my son and heir, Prince Jensen Ackles."
The murmuring begins again, loud and surprised, and Jensen wants to shrink away and die. But he doesn't show it. He smiles serenely and sits tall.
"Attention, please," says the king again. "I know this is a shock for everyone. The prince's mother and I were childhood friends, married in secret. We decided it was in the best interest of our son that he be raised outside of the capital until such time as he was ready to assume the duties of his station."
"Sir, if I may ask," starts one of the Ladies--Ostroff, Jensen thinks, "why did you not see fit to inform the cabinet of this sooner?"
"You may ask, but my decision is my own," says the king. "Know that I acted in the best interest of my family, and of Genovia."
"How do we know this boy is truly your son?" asks a Lord Jensen doesn't know.
"I would hope my word would be sufficient proof for you, Lord Lehne," says his father mildly. "And I believe there is something of a family resemblance." He signals to Misha's mother, who brings out some pieces of paper. "However, Lady Collins was a witness to the marriage, as well as the birth of the child, and she has both the certificate of marriage and my son's birth certificate."
"Everything should be in order," says Lady Collins sweetly.
"The coronation will take place in three weeks, on the anniversary of my own coronation," his father says. "Jensen will be living in the palace and learning his duties. Until then, I trust everyone will be happy to help him out." He smiles. "And he'll be at dinner tonight, so you'll all have an opportunity to get to know him."
Jensen manages to leave the throne room in a dignified manner, ask Misha where his new rooms are, and waits until he's in the privacy of his own bedroom before he lets himself freak out.
*
"I'm Katie Cassidy," says the blonde girl sitting next to him at the dinner table. "My father wants me to marry you."
"I'm, uh," says Jensen. He bites his lip. "Spoken for?" he tries. It comes out like a question, which makes sense, when he remembers he and Sam had one kiss, and have never made any kind of agreement about getting married.
"Oh good," she says, sitting back. "No offense, but I don't want to marry someone just to be queen. I can be plenty powerful as a Lady." She regards him. "You know if Lord Collins is available? He's way more my type."
"I think so," says Jensen, take off-guard. "He hasn't mentioned anyone."
"Good," says Katie. "So, you're the prince."
"I am."
"But they didn't want you to live here?"
"I didn't even know," says Jensen. "I only found out a few months ago."
"Seriously?"
"Seriously."
"That's gotta be weird," says Katie, having dropped all pretense of politeness and respect. Jensen appreciates this greatly.
Jensen laughs. "Really, really weird."
"Well, you seem okay to me. You're not going to raise taxes or start murdering peasants or anything, right?"
"No, not planning on it."
She smiles. "Then you've got my support."
Jensen wishes everyone was as easy about things. As the night continues, he gets interrogated on all sides--his history, his education, his love life, everything. By the end of the meal, his head is spinning, and he has no idea if he did well at all. He's not even sure he knows what well is.
His mother, who came into the court much more quietly as the king's long-lost love, comes over after and kisses the top of his head and tells him that they're proud of him.
And, somehow, Jensen thinks that maybe, just maybe, they're right to be.
*
Dear Jensen,
I'm looking forward to your coronation. Did you tell Sam?
Love,
Danneel
*
Jensen has two bodyguards and one food taster. They're all brothers, and Jensen wonders how anyone manages to actually have a food taster.
"What do you mean?" asks Kevin.
"I mean, every time we go to a meal, you might die. I don't want you to die."
"Aww!" says Kevin, brightening. "That's sweet. But I like being a food taster."
"Don't get him started," says Nick, one of the bodyguards.
"Why?" asks Jensen, ignoring him.
"Your food is amazing," says Kevin. "Seriously! I get to eat so much awesome stuff. Like that pork last night? So good!"
"But you might die," says Jensen, slowly, so Kevin will understand.
"Yeah, but I haven't yet," says Kevin proudly.
"I warned you," says Nick.
Jensen finds the entire thing incredibly creepy, to be honest, and when he escapes from the three of them, he goes and finds Misha.
"Do I have to have a food taster?"
"You were the one who was scared of being killed," Misha points out.
"Yeah, but--" Jensen sighs. "I don't want anyone to die."
Misha regards him for a long minute. "That's a very noble and stupid sentiment," he says. "You're the prince, and any of us would happily die for you in a second."
"You would?" asks Jensen, taken aback. "I mean, you?"
"You're the prince," Misha repeats. "You would have died for the king, wouldn't you? Before you ever came here?"
Jensen thinks about it, honestly. He never met the king, knew nothing of him, but he was the king. He had always done right, as far as Jensen knew. "Oh," he says softly.
"That's you now," says Misha. He shrugs. "Also, Kevin is crazy. Don't forget that part. It helps."
Jensen can't help laughing. "I'll try not to."
*
The next three weeks are so busy, Jensen can barely think about the fact that Sam hasn't gotten in touch with him again. He tells himself Sam could still be coming--he gets Joe and Nick to go to every inn in the capital with strict instructions to contact him if anyone by the name of Winchester checks in, but the night before the coronation there's still no word from him at all.
"He could be running late," Misha points out. "Maybe he'll arrive in a few days."
"Maybe he doesn't want to be a prince and he never wants to see me again."
Misha glares at him. "Because that's logical."
"I'm getting crowned tomorrow, now that it's become clear to the court that I'm interested in men, every single man in the city wants to marry me, and I don't know the first thing about court politics. I think I'm allowed to freak out a little."
"Fine," says Misha. "But I reserve my right to tell you you're an idiot."
"I've noticed."
"It's these kinds of honest opinions that have made my family such invaluable resources to the throne."
Jensen laughs. "Thanks, Misha."
"Any time. And Jensen?"
"Yes?"
"You're going to do fine."
"Thanks," Jensen says again, and Misha leaves.
He still doesn't really get much sleep.
*
The coronation itself is very simple. Jensen simply has to promise to uphold the traditions and ideals of Genovia, to serve his country and his people faithfully, and to be a good person, pretty much. He's nervous, and there are so many people, it's actually a little staggering. He sees Danneel in the crowd as he goes up to the stage, which makes him feel better, and she gives him an encouraging smile. Chris and Riley, who arrived a few days ago, are blatantly staring at her, and that makes him feel better too. He does have friends.
Even if Sam isn't among them today.
He repeats Lord Singer without thinking too much, certain that if he does put any of his brain power into it, he'll lose his calm and make an idiot of himself. He doesn't want to start off his reign by messing up the Genovian pledge of allegiance.
As soon as Lord Singer has put the coronet--not, as Misha calls it, the royal tiara--on Jensen, and the applause dies down, he's allowed to leave the stage.
"That is a very pretty tiara," says Joe.
"Can I try it on?" asks Kevin.
"Can you leave me alone for a few minutes?" asks Jensen. He thinks if he has to deal with Kevin and Joe for an extended period of time, he will actually poison his own food tonight.
"Alone?" asks Nick. "Now?"
"Consider it my first royal order," says Jensen. "I need some air and some alone time. Go find Misha and let him know I'll be on the balcony overlooking the royal gardens."
"Balcony," says Nick.
"Over the gardens," says Joe. "Got it."
They scamper off, and Jensen takes his time going up the stairs. He loves the royal gardens, the peace and quiet and stillness of them, and he leans against the stone railing and takes deep breathes of fresh air.
Everyone's inside, and he knows Misha will be out to make him come back and be social, schmooze, and make himself generally available to be a prince.
But for now, he needs a minute to himself.
"I should have known," he hears behind him, and as he turns he scarcely believes it, because that sounds just like--
Sam gives him a shy smile.
"Hi," he says. "I--"
Jensen knows he should be calm and regal, princely, but all he manages to do is launch himself into Sam's arms and kiss him.
Sam laughs against his lips and kisses him back, light, happy kisses, and Jensen thinks it's maybe bad that he feels so much gladder about this, about Sam, than he does about being Prince of Genovia.
Sam pulls him closer and the kisses switch subtly, become longer, deeper, and Jensen realizes somewhat belatedly that they're really going at it when he feels Sam's back hit the palace wall.
Sam must realize it too, because he pulls back and stares at Jensen. "I was going to talk to you first," he says breathlessly.
"Did you just get here?" he asks. "I had every inn in the city on alert to tell me if any Winchesters checked in, and there was--"
"Padalecki," says Sam.
Jensen blinks. "What?"
"What I--that secret of mine," says Sam, laughing sadly. "I'm not--my name's Jared. Padalecki." He manages a weak smile and holds up one finger. "First in line."
Jensen stares. He's sure his mouth is agape and he looks ridiculous, but he can't help it. "What?"
"I know," says Sam--Jared. "I, um." He laughs. "I was going to tell you. I kept wanting to but Chad--he's kind of my bodyguard, I guess--he said I shouldn't until I talked to my dad, and I was ready to ignore him and tell you anyway, but then you left, and it's not like I could put it in a letter, so--"
"I kissed a prince?" asks Jensen. His brain is stuck.
"The prince would really like you to do it again," says Jared, with a shy smile.
"But you're a prince," says Jensen, like Jared doesn't realize this.
Jared hesitantly puts his hand to Jensen's head and taps the coronet. "Look who's talking."
Jensen swallows.
"I was going to abdicate," Jared continues, more softly now. "If I had to, I mean. You have no idea how relieved my parents were when they got the news that you were a prince. Not like the cabinet can object to me marrying royalty."
"Why?"
"Why what?"
"Did you lie in the first place?"
"I didn't want to be--a prince. I mean, I did, but I didn't want to be treated like one. I wanted people to like or hate me for myself. You know how Mycroft is." He bites his lip. "And I figured out in about ten minutes that you'd do that anyway, but--it was risky, and my parents would have killed me, and I really, really wanted--"
"You want a tour of the palace?" Jensen asks, cutting him off.
Jared looks surprised, but recovers quickly. "Yeah."
Jensen takes his hand, can't help smiling when Jared squeezes it. It's a lot to take in, but it makes sense, in retrospect. Sam--Jared--was always holding back a little, distant and unsure, and now, of course, he understands exactly what Danneel was saying in the conversation he overheard.
He's surprised by how completely he believes Jared. Of course, he has his own royal tiara in his hair, and his tunic, now that Jensen looks at it, is blue and silver, the royal colors of Lycindia, and even has the coat of arms on the left breast, over Jared's heart. And he trusts Sam, always has. Sam being Jared--of course he's going to trust that too.
Besides, he's dealt with some unbelievable things lately.
"This is the king's private hall," says Jensen.
"Very impressive." He clucks his tongue. "By the way, I was wondering--did you know you were the prince before?"
"No," says Jensen. "No idea."
"I didn't think so. That must've been--weird."
"Beyond weird." He laughs. "Did I tell you I was worried you weren't coming to my coronation because you were pissed at me for lying to you?"
Jared laughs too. "You didn't. You're right, I was pretty pissed." He grins at Jensen. "How could you?"
And just like that, Jensen's sure. Jared is Sam, or Sam is Jared, or whichever, but they're the same person, and the person Jensen is still in love with.
"This," he says, "is the royal private staircase."
"Royal and private?"
"It goes to the royal family's private rooms." He bites his lip. "Want to see?"
"Yes," says Jared instantly.
Jensen tugs his hand again and they go up the stairs fast.
"The king and queen's rooms are upstairs," says Jensen, when they get to the second floor landing. "This is for the royal children."
"Your rooms," says Jared.
"Yeah," says Jensen. "Through here."
The halls aren't even that familiar to him yet, they're too new, but he manages to get them to his room, and as soon as the door is closed, Jared is kissing him again, hard and frantic, and Jensen is kissing him back, can't get enough.
"In case I didn't mention," Jared says, between kisses, "I'm really in love with you."
"Me too," says Jensen. His fingers find the buttons of Jared's tunic and start working them open. "I figured we probably wouldn't be unchaperoned again until we were married, so--"
"And that'll probably take forever," Jared agrees. He shrugs his tunic off and starts on Jensen's. "My country arguing with your country, treaties and--"
"Mm hmm," says Jensen. "I have a bed."
"I bet it's really big. Comfortable. Princes have the nicest stuff."
Jensen drags Jared down on top of him on the bed, running his hands over the bare skin of his back. "You would know," he says.
Jared hesitates, his hand right above Jensen's waist. When he swallows, Jensen can see his throat bob. He wants to lick it. "Can I?" he asks, his voice lower than usual.
"Yeah," says Jensen, stretching up to kiss him again. "Please, Jared--"
Jared groans. "You have--" he laughs. "You called me Sam last time, and I couldn't--I wanted to hear you call me Jared so much."
"Jared," he says, instantly. "Jared, Jared, Jared--"
Jared pushes Jensen's trousers down and then his underthings and wraps his hand around Jensen's dick. It's the first time in his life someone else's hand has been on him, and he gasps at the contact. Jared smirks and starts working his hand hard and steady, and Jensen whimpers and thrusts into it.
"Missed you so much," Jared says into his ear, moving down to kiss his neck. "Woke up and you were gone and--" he laughs. "I thought you didn't want me. Thought you decided it was a mistake and--"
"Moron," says Jensen, catching Jared's lips again, and getting Jared's trousers open so he can touch him too. Jared's dick feels different than his, which isn't surprising, and Jared groans at the contact, which makes it a lot better.
They kiss desperately as they start jerking each other in earnest, more panting into each others' mouths than anything else. Jensen comes first, and once he has, Jared wraps his hand around Jensen's, helping him finish off.
Jared flops onto the bed next to Jensen and just breathes for a long minute.
"So, that should hold us over til we're married," Jensen finally says, when he's regained his functions.
Jared laughs, low and warm, and kisses him again. Jensen's turning, wanting to get closer again, have Jared, but before he can, there's a knock on the door.
"Prince Jensen," says Misha. "Your bodyguards informed me you were showing a tall young man the palace and might be in mortal peril, so I assume either Lord Winchester showed up after all or you're dead."
"Hi, Misha," Jared calls, burying his face in Jensen's neck. "He's not dead."
"Your parents are asking after you, Prince Jensen. And various others, of course. You have five minutes and then I'm coming in to get you."
"Make it ten unless you want to get an eyeful," says Jared.
"I missed you too, Lord Winchester," says Misha.
Jensen pulls his clothes back on and brushes off, trying to make it less obvious that he's just dragged Jared upstairs and had his way with him. Jared does the same, and they look each other over once, share one more kiss, and open the door.
"Prince Jensen," says Misha. "Lord Winchester, good to see you again."
Jared beams. "It's Jared, actually."
Misha blinks, nonplussed. "What?"
"Jared Padalecki," says Jensen, replacing his coronet on his head. "Prince of Lycindia."
Misha blinks again and then turns his attention to Jensen. "You are not seriously telling me that you managed to find another disguised prince to fall in love with, without either of you knowing you were royalty."
"I knew I was royalty," says Jared.
"You have the luck of the devil," Misha pronounces.
"Shut up," says Jensen. He takes Jared's hand again, smiles when Jared squeezes back.
"You would," Misha says, "somehow, charm the disguised prince of Lycindia. I should have seen it coming! I'm disappointed in myself. When's the wedding?"
"As soon as they let us," says Jared happily. "I imagine my cabinet will have a fit about how I want to move to Genovia."
"You do?" asks Jensen.
"You can't move to Lycindia," says Jared, as if it's the simplest thing in the world. "So I better move here."
"What about Lycindia?"
"Meggie's going to be an awesome queen," says Jared. "I'm not worried."
"I thought you said you weren't going to abdicate."
"I'm not," Jared hedges. "I'll still be prince. But there's a second in line for me, and there isn't for you. Kind of a no-brainer."
"Jared," says Jensen.
"They'll be happy. Think of the influence I'll have on the Genovian court." He squeezes Jensen's hand. "Trust me, this is exactly what I want to do."
"You two are disgustingly perfect," says Misha. "I'm depressed."
"Ask Katie to dance with you when the dancing starts," says Jensen. "She'll say yes."
"Katie Cassidy?"
"Yes."
"Hm," says Misha. "I see." He clucks his tongue. "I'll think about forgiving you. Prince Jensen, I'd suggest seeing your parents first. Princess Danneel was also rather anxious to find you."
As it turns out, as soon as they go back into the great hall, Danneel finds them before they can do anything else.
"I see you've met Jared," she says, smirking and looking them up and down.
"Hey, Danneel," says Jared, kissing her on the cheek. "How are you?"
"Well," she says. "Everything's all right for the two of you?"
"So far, so good," says Jensen.
"Good. For the record, I'm not willing to be your surrogate for heirs. So don't even think about asking."
"Prince Jensen, with all due respect to Princess Danneel, if you don't talk to your parents soon, they're going to have me drawn and quartered," Misha comments. "And I have grown rather attached to some of my entrails."
"We'll talk to you later, Danneel," says Jensen.
"Congratulations, by the way," says Danneel. She smiles. "For everything."
"Thanks," says Jensen.
*
"You must be Sam," says Jensen's mother, he assumes because he's radiating 'I'm in love with this guy' so loudly that everyone can sense it.
His father looks surprised. "Aren't you--"
"I'm Jared," he says. "Padalecki. But, um--I was using another name at school." He beams. "Low profile."
His mother's eyes widen. "You're the prince?"
"I wanted to tell him, but things got a little complicated," says Jared. "But--in case you didn't know, I'm in love with your son."
"He wasn't completely sure," says his mother.
"Mother!" says Jensen, turning bright red.
"I wasn't either," says Jared. "I mean, that you were--I knew I was--" he sighs and blushes. "We're both bad at this."
"You'll have to introduce us to your parents," says Jensen's father. "I've met them before, of course, but I think the circumstances are going to be a little different from now on," he adds.
Jared beams. "Yeah. I hope so."
Epilogue
Dear Sam,
I wanted to let you know that I'm fine and my mother is fine. A relative in the capital is injured and needs to be cared for, so we're going to be staying there for the time being.
I'm going to be busy helping out, so I won't have a lot of time, but I'll try to write when I can. If you'd like to write me, you can direct your letters to the inn.
I'd really like it if you wrote.
Anyway, like I said, I'm pretty busy. My mother's calling me now to get going, or I'd say more. I'll write again soon.
Jensen
*
"Oh, Jensen, there you are," says his mother when he comes out of his room.
"Hello, Jensen," says Misha, sitting across from her, with a wave, casual as anything.
Jensen stares. "Misha? What the hell--"
"Misha's mother, Helena, is your father's most trusted adviser," says his mother with a calm smile. "Misha kindly agreed to keep an eye on you."
"Keep an eye on me," Jensen repeats, groaning. "Since when?"
"Since I met you," says Misha cheerfully. "I wasn't your roommate by accident."
"So, what, you went to Mycroft to spy on me?"
"Of course not," says Misha. "I went to Mycroft for the same reason all nobles go there--to make valuable connections and become exposed to the world outside of their own court. But I was happy to shift my focus from my studies to keeping an eye on you."
"You still studied."
"Not much. I spent a lot of time spying on you. You were very interesting."
"And now you're just leaving?"
Misha shrugs. "I never cared that much about graduating. I've learned all I need to. Besides," he adds, with a little smirk, "my country needs me."
"This is why you were always so pissed when I wasn't making friends with influential people," says Jensen, shooting him a betrayed glare.
"Princess Danneel likes you," says Misha. "That's more than I expected, honestly."
"Your faith in me is stunning."
"Jensen," says Misha. "I have a matter of months to transform you from seamstress's son into prince. Believe me when I say it is going to take a miracle."
*
Dear Jensen,
It's so good to hear from you. I was pretty worried when you just disappeared, and then Misha--I thought maybe something awful was happening in Genovia and we hadn't heard about it yet. I'm really glad to hear you're okay, and I hope your relative feels better soon.
I wish I had interesting things to tell you from here, but everything's been pretty dull and ordinary. Next time, I'll either have a lot of things to report on, or I'll make some up. I won't tell you which, of course, so keep in mind that every exciting piece of news could be a total lie.
I don't know if you're planning to come back here when your relative recovers. I'm not sure if I want you to tell me or not. If you are coming back, I'll be impatient, and if you're not, I'll be inconsolable. And not knowing I'll just wonder all the time.
I'm going to stop before I become any more pathetic. Good health to you and all your relations.
S
*
"When I'm king, I'm decreeing that everyone only needs one fork, one spoon, and one knife," Jensen grumbles.
He'd scoffed when Misha had been so melodramatic about his chances of learning how to be a prince, but after a week of lessons, Jensen is rapidly realizing that there's a lot more to it than acting better than other people. While Mycroft had been much more rigid than his last school, it also hadn't been anything like real high society.
"Of course not," Misha had said. "It's an academy, not a dinner party."
Now, Misha looks like he desperately wants to assassinate Jensen with a fork, either out of anger or to save Genovia from him. Jensen couldn't blame him for either. "It's not that complicated," says Misha.
"It's more complicated than it needs to be. It's not like the salad is going to not get eaten if I use a dinner fork."
"It's very simple," says Misha. "You start outside and go in."
"I can do it," says Jensen. He thinks he might be pouting. "I'm just against it on principle."
"Look, Jensen. You're a prince," says Misha. "People have certain expectations of a prince. "You're handsome, definitely. You look the part. But you aren't going to give anyone any confidence in you if you don't--"
"Use five forks correctly?" asks Jensen dubiously.
"Fine," Misha grants. "Maybe your citizens won't know if you can't tell a soup spoon from a dessert spoon. But the nobles will, and the nobility from other countries."
"Danneel doesn't care."
Misha squeezes a knife in a worryingly strong grasp. "Jensen. It is taking everything in my power to not stab you in the hand right now."
"Sorry," says Jensen sheepishly. "It's just--this is a lot to take in, Misha. I'm a king, and I'm supposed to act king-like, and I barely got through Mycroft without everyone thinking I was a hick."
"We'll get through," says Misha. "Just be advised I might stab you in a non-fatal part of your body at some point in the proceedings."
"I wouldn't blame you," says Jensen. "Dessert fork?" he tries, holding one up.
"Salad fork. But they're both small, so--you're close."
Jensen groans.
*
Jensen meets his father for the first time a week after he arrives in the capital, once his doctors say he's well enough to have visitors. Jensen wonders what part of a back injury makes visitors a hazard, but he's privately glad to have had time to prepare himself. He still can't quite connect it in his head--his father is alive, his father is the king.
The meeting itself is very secret--only Misha and their mothers are there, and his father is still in bedridden. Jensen thinks, if it was him, he'd be feeling restless. Maybe it's hereditary.
"Jensen," he says warmly, smiling. "You have no idea how good it is to see you, my boy."
It's strange, because this is the king. Jensen has seen portraits of him, can almost recognize him, but it's his father. His father, who's never met him before.
"Hello, your majesty."
The king's smile falters a little. "You can call me father."
Jensen swallows. "Father."
"Come over so I can see you. I've heard so much about you from your mother, but--" he laughs, looking down while he does it. Jensen laughs the same way, and it makes his stomach lurch. "I'm sorry I could never be a father to you. I wanted to be."
Jensen approaches slowly. He's not so old--of course, he shouldn't be, he's the same age as Jensen's mother, but he looks much more tired than his mother ever has. "I understand," he says, making his mind up about it as he goes. "You were trying to do what's best for me."
"Yes," he says softly. He looks like he might be crying. "You'll have to come often," he says, recovering his voice. "I can tell you about being the king. And you can tell me about yourself."
Jensen nods. "I'll come as often as Misha lets me go."
"He needs a lot of work, your majesty," says Misha.
His father smiles. His eyes are the same color as Jensen's. "I think he's perfect."
*
Dear Sam,
You're a horrible liar, I can't imagine you'll be any better on paper than you are in person. Remember when you tried to convince me you were hitting the right note in that song and everyone else was off? I wasn't convinced.
I got to see my father today. He lives in the city, so I saw him rarely as a child. It was--strange. I knew he never chose to be away from me, but I didn't realize how hard it was on him to not see me. I'm not sure what I think you're going to get out of this. I don't have a lot of exciting things to report on--it's all sick relatives, and I won't bore you with the details of his care. He should make a full recovery.
As for what happens when he's better, I don't have good news for you. My mother wants me to remain in the capital. I wish you were here, and I'd tell you everything, but there are things I can't put in letters. But even if I stay here--I'd like to see you again.
My mother is calling for me. I'll write again as soon as I can.
Jensen
*
"Is that another letter for Sam?" his mother asks, smiling as Jensen gives the envelope to the innkeeper.
"What?" he asks, flushing. "What do you mean?"
She shakes her head. "Jensen, it was obvious from the first time you mentioned him in your letters home. You're in love with him."
Jensen sighs. He doesn't understand how it is that everyone in the world knows exactly how he feels about Sam. He didn't think he was so obvious. "I didn't think it would be a big deal," he says finally. "Who cares if two minor noblemen marry each other? We were both so far down I figured--"
"And now you're going to be king," she says, squeezing his hand. "I know."
"I can't even tell him."
"Well, you know," his mother says thoughtfully, "I can imagine that the royal court has had its fill of kings not being married. And Misha assures me he's a very nice young man."
"He is," says Jensen. He licks his lip. "He's--yes."
His mother laughs. "And I've heard he's quite enamored of you, too."
"I really hope so."
"Then cheer up," she says, with a smile. "I think the court would rather you married a serf than stayed single forever."
"He's not a serf," Jensen protests.
"Exactly," says his mother fondly. "So you have nothing to worry about at all."
*
Dear Jensen,
Sam is moping like you wouldn't believe. I'm sure he's trying to put up a strong front in his letters, but he misses you terribly. In case you were wondering.
I hope your relative is recovering well. Please put Sam out of his misery as soon as you can.
Love,
Danneel
*
"Name the cabinet members."
"Lord Singer, Lord Manners, Lord Beaver, Lady Ferris, Lady Ostroff, Lady Collins," says Jensen.
"Points off for listing my mother last," says Misha. "But other than that, good job."
"I'm getting better," says Jensen. He groans. "When am I supposed to be ready for the public again?"
"As soon as possible. No reason to keep you a secret, especially if there's a plot against him. No one will want to kill him if he's got a legitimate heir."
"They'll want to kill me instead?"
Misha regards him seriously. "No, I imagine it would make them singularly unpopular. You're an attractive, good-natured young man. Your father clearly adores you. The story of his and your mother's thwarted love will have everyone on their side, and make them predisposed to love you. You'll be exactly what they want in a prince. If you die, no one will think it was natural, and no one will like the next ruler."
"That's not reassuring."
"It's not my job to be reassuring," says Misha mildly. "It's my job to tell you the truth."
"And the truth is, people might try to kill me."
"Yes."
"Thanks, Misha."
"Any time."
*
Dear Jensen,
I've pretty much run out of lies to tell you about how exciting my life at Mycroft is. The truth of the matter is that I miss you terribly, and I'm excited for the summer just so I won't remember how much better all my classes were when you were in them. Instead I'm sure I'll think of how much I wish you were everywhere when I'm home. I don't know why I'm admitting this to you, because, let me tell you, it's incredibly embarrassing. Although it isn't as if you don't know you're my best friend (I hope).
My mother must have noticed my general tone of inconsolability, because she told me I should ask you to come visit us this summer. Of course, I wanted to ask you already, but I feel more legitimate once my mother has told me I should. I know you're busy with your family, and I wouldn't dream of asking you to leave them. But should you have any time, let me know.
I'd love to see you.
S
*
Jensen has been visiting his father for an hour every day. Misha thinks he's being trained, but they mostly just talk. Jensen is a little embarrassed by how pleased his father is to see him every day; it makes him feel strange to be loved so much, to think about how sad his father must have been to have missed his childhood. He feels guilty for not yet being able to think of his as a father, although it gets easier every day.
His other lessons get easier as well. As it turns out, he's naturally diplomatic, and Misha applauds his willingness to be firm as well as compromise. Jensen thought everyone mastered that, eventually, but apparently not. Having to mediate between Chris and the Dohring boy from down the street apparently has its regal advantages.
He still feels out-of-place in the castle. Misha tells him once he's actually living there, it will be better, but Jensen can't imagine that. It's still too big for him to comprehend.
So, of course, that's when, just when he's found his bearings, Misha says, "We need to talk. Come on."
"Talk about what?"
"Come on," says Misha, and drags him up to his own mother's room.
"Oh, you brought him," says his mother. Misha's mother is there as well, which means it must be serious. "Good."
"What is it?"
"Your castle visits are finally starting to attract notice."
"Finally?" asks Jensen. "It's only been a few months. And I thought we didn't want me noticed."
"Not right away," Misha's mother hedges. "But we have to--there are appearances to be considered, Jensen."
"Meaning?"
"Meaning, we want to announce that you are the prince."
Jensen stares at her. "I thought we weren't doing that until I was ready."
"You are ready," says Misha.
"Why is that your call and not mine?" asks Jensen, glaring at him.
"Because I'm smarter than you," he says matter-of-factly. "We want to do the coronation in the early summer," he continues, "and it's important that your people get to know you before that."
"It is?"
"How would you feel to have a prince you'd never heard of?" asks Misha.
"I had a king I'd never seen," Jensen points out. "It's not a huge deal to me."
"If you lived here in the city, it would be," says his mother. "The coronation is going to be in three weeks."
"Three weeks?" he almost shouts.
"It's the same day as your father's coronation as king," says Misha's mother. "It will symbolically link you and help the people accept you as his successor."
Jensen rubs his forehead. "So, what, we're announcing me--"
"In about two hours," says Misha's mother. "Your father is getting ready. You need to put on something nicer--we'll move your things to the castle while you meet the court."
"But--"
"Misha will help you," says his mother sweetly. "We'll be waiting downstairs."
"I thought princes were supposed to be in charge of things," mutters Jensen, as Misha drags him to his room.
"Common mistake," says Misha. "You're just here to look pretty and do what we tell you."
"At least I'm pretty, then," Jensen mutters. "Can I get a quick letter to Sam off before we leave?"
"You want to write to your boyfriend more than you want to be prince?"
"I want to tell him," says Jensen. "And invite him to the coronation. Three weeks is cutting it close."
Misha sighs. "You're going to be the first king in history to marry a nobody from Tyre."
"I'm going to be the first king in history to have to prove he's not a bastard or a fraud too," says Jensen. "I'm just going to be breaking ground left and right."
*
Dear Sam,
I don't know if this letter will reach you before you hear on your own, but I hope it will. I wanted to tell you the truth as soon as I found it out, but I wasn't allowed to tell anyone, and a letter isn't a very secure place to say anything secret.
So, this is my formal announcement to you--I'm the Prince of Genovia. My coronation is in in three weeks, and I doubt I'll have much time to visit you, but I want you to come to the coronation.
I miss you too.
Jensen
*
"So, are you ready?" asks his father cheerfully.
"Define ready."
"Well, you're dressed, you're awake, and I assume you're capable of smiling. That's a good start."
"How many people you're introducing me to today are going to want to kill me?" he asks.
"No one is going to kill you."
"I'm just curious."
"Lady Ostroff, Lord Lehne, and Lord Cassidy are currently both forerunners for the position. Lord Cassidy will probably try to get you to marry his daughter to take the throne in that way. Lady Aycox and Lord Spence have less of a claim to the throne, but are most adamant about their credentials."
"So, only four."
"You'll have bodyguards," says his father. "And the support of all those in the court who still like me," he adds. "Which is a not inconsiderable number. For the most part, the court would prefer I had an heir. And here you are, and you're perfect."
Jensen flushes. "I'm inexperienced and uncouth."
"Those things can be changed. The things that can't be changed, the things that must be part of you--those, you have."
"Plus, you're very attractive, and any number of young women in the court will be horrified you're already spoken for," says Misha. "Good morning, your majesty," he adds to the king.
"Good morning, young Lord Collins. You're spoken for?" he asks Jensen.
"Not--" he glares at Misha. "I have--there's someone," he says finally. "We haven't made any kind of agreement."
"But he's gone on him," says Misha helpfully. "So even if they haven't set a date, Jensen is unavailable."
"You'll have to tell me about him later," says Jensen's father. "I want to know everything."
"I hate you," Jensen tells Misha.
"You're the one who insisted on not getting dressed until you'd written to him. So you could invite him to your coronation."
"As amusing as it is to watch my son squirm," says his father, "it's time to present Jensen to the court."
"You could make me squirm a little longer," says Jensen. Apparently being grilled about Sam is much more appealing than being introduced to a room full of potential assassins. It's good to know.
"Oh, you'll be fine," says Misha, and Jensen begins his illustrious career as a prince by being shoved into his own throne room.
*
It's surprising to Jensen just how different his father is when he's King. As soon as they enter the throne room, full of the most important members of the court, he's instantly regal. He stands taller, looks more commanding, and the gentle smile Jensen has seen so often is gone.
Jensen tries to do the same, to look important and as if he belongs, and not as if it's incomprehensible to him that he's in the throne room. And also as if he hadn't been forced in there against his will.
He stands in front of the chair to the left of the throne and tries to ignore the murmurs and stares he receives as his father takes his place.
"Your attention please," says the king, and everyone quiets at once. "Be seated," he says, and Jensen sits with everyone else. "There have been rumors recently," he says, "of my meeting with a stranger in my private chambers. I know you're all very concerned about this, and I apologize for not having informed you all of the truth earlier." He smiles. "The truth is that this is my son and heir, Prince Jensen Ackles."
The murmuring begins again, loud and surprised, and Jensen wants to shrink away and die. But he doesn't show it. He smiles serenely and sits tall.
"Attention, please," says the king again. "I know this is a shock for everyone. The prince's mother and I were childhood friends, married in secret. We decided it was in the best interest of our son that he be raised outside of the capital until such time as he was ready to assume the duties of his station."
"Sir, if I may ask," starts one of the Ladies--Ostroff, Jensen thinks, "why did you not see fit to inform the cabinet of this sooner?"
"You may ask, but my decision is my own," says the king. "Know that I acted in the best interest of my family, and of Genovia."
"How do we know this boy is truly your son?" asks a Lord Jensen doesn't know.
"I would hope my word would be sufficient proof for you, Lord Lehne," says his father mildly. "And I believe there is something of a family resemblance." He signals to Misha's mother, who brings out some pieces of paper. "However, Lady Collins was a witness to the marriage, as well as the birth of the child, and she has both the certificate of marriage and my son's birth certificate."
"Everything should be in order," says Lady Collins sweetly.
"The coronation will take place in three weeks, on the anniversary of my own coronation," his father says. "Jensen will be living in the palace and learning his duties. Until then, I trust everyone will be happy to help him out." He smiles. "And he'll be at dinner tonight, so you'll all have an opportunity to get to know him."
Jensen manages to leave the throne room in a dignified manner, ask Misha where his new rooms are, and waits until he's in the privacy of his own bedroom before he lets himself freak out.
*
"I'm Katie Cassidy," says the blonde girl sitting next to him at the dinner table. "My father wants me to marry you."
"I'm, uh," says Jensen. He bites his lip. "Spoken for?" he tries. It comes out like a question, which makes sense, when he remembers he and Sam had one kiss, and have never made any kind of agreement about getting married.
"Oh good," she says, sitting back. "No offense, but I don't want to marry someone just to be queen. I can be plenty powerful as a Lady." She regards him. "You know if Lord Collins is available? He's way more my type."
"I think so," says Jensen, take off-guard. "He hasn't mentioned anyone."
"Good," says Katie. "So, you're the prince."
"I am."
"But they didn't want you to live here?"
"I didn't even know," says Jensen. "I only found out a few months ago."
"Seriously?"
"Seriously."
"That's gotta be weird," says Katie, having dropped all pretense of politeness and respect. Jensen appreciates this greatly.
Jensen laughs. "Really, really weird."
"Well, you seem okay to me. You're not going to raise taxes or start murdering peasants or anything, right?"
"No, not planning on it."
She smiles. "Then you've got my support."
Jensen wishes everyone was as easy about things. As the night continues, he gets interrogated on all sides--his history, his education, his love life, everything. By the end of the meal, his head is spinning, and he has no idea if he did well at all. He's not even sure he knows what well is.
His mother, who came into the court much more quietly as the king's long-lost love, comes over after and kisses the top of his head and tells him that they're proud of him.
And, somehow, Jensen thinks that maybe, just maybe, they're right to be.
*
Dear Jensen,
I'm looking forward to your coronation. Did you tell Sam?
Love,
Danneel
*
Jensen has two bodyguards and one food taster. They're all brothers, and Jensen wonders how anyone manages to actually have a food taster.
"What do you mean?" asks Kevin.
"I mean, every time we go to a meal, you might die. I don't want you to die."
"Aww!" says Kevin, brightening. "That's sweet. But I like being a food taster."
"Don't get him started," says Nick, one of the bodyguards.
"Why?" asks Jensen, ignoring him.
"Your food is amazing," says Kevin. "Seriously! I get to eat so much awesome stuff. Like that pork last night? So good!"
"But you might die," says Jensen, slowly, so Kevin will understand.
"Yeah, but I haven't yet," says Kevin proudly.
"I warned you," says Nick.
Jensen finds the entire thing incredibly creepy, to be honest, and when he escapes from the three of them, he goes and finds Misha.
"Do I have to have a food taster?"
"You were the one who was scared of being killed," Misha points out.
"Yeah, but--" Jensen sighs. "I don't want anyone to die."
Misha regards him for a long minute. "That's a very noble and stupid sentiment," he says. "You're the prince, and any of us would happily die for you in a second."
"You would?" asks Jensen, taken aback. "I mean, you?"
"You're the prince," Misha repeats. "You would have died for the king, wouldn't you? Before you ever came here?"
Jensen thinks about it, honestly. He never met the king, knew nothing of him, but he was the king. He had always done right, as far as Jensen knew. "Oh," he says softly.
"That's you now," says Misha. He shrugs. "Also, Kevin is crazy. Don't forget that part. It helps."
Jensen can't help laughing. "I'll try not to."
*
The next three weeks are so busy, Jensen can barely think about the fact that Sam hasn't gotten in touch with him again. He tells himself Sam could still be coming--he gets Joe and Nick to go to every inn in the capital with strict instructions to contact him if anyone by the name of Winchester checks in, but the night before the coronation there's still no word from him at all.
"He could be running late," Misha points out. "Maybe he'll arrive in a few days."
"Maybe he doesn't want to be a prince and he never wants to see me again."
Misha glares at him. "Because that's logical."
"I'm getting crowned tomorrow, now that it's become clear to the court that I'm interested in men, every single man in the city wants to marry me, and I don't know the first thing about court politics. I think I'm allowed to freak out a little."
"Fine," says Misha. "But I reserve my right to tell you you're an idiot."
"I've noticed."
"It's these kinds of honest opinions that have made my family such invaluable resources to the throne."
Jensen laughs. "Thanks, Misha."
"Any time. And Jensen?"
"Yes?"
"You're going to do fine."
"Thanks," Jensen says again, and Misha leaves.
He still doesn't really get much sleep.
*
The coronation itself is very simple. Jensen simply has to promise to uphold the traditions and ideals of Genovia, to serve his country and his people faithfully, and to be a good person, pretty much. He's nervous, and there are so many people, it's actually a little staggering. He sees Danneel in the crowd as he goes up to the stage, which makes him feel better, and she gives him an encouraging smile. Chris and Riley, who arrived a few days ago, are blatantly staring at her, and that makes him feel better too. He does have friends.
Even if Sam isn't among them today.
He repeats Lord Singer without thinking too much, certain that if he does put any of his brain power into it, he'll lose his calm and make an idiot of himself. He doesn't want to start off his reign by messing up the Genovian pledge of allegiance.
As soon as Lord Singer has put the coronet--not, as Misha calls it, the royal tiara--on Jensen, and the applause dies down, he's allowed to leave the stage.
"That is a very pretty tiara," says Joe.
"Can I try it on?" asks Kevin.
"Can you leave me alone for a few minutes?" asks Jensen. He thinks if he has to deal with Kevin and Joe for an extended period of time, he will actually poison his own food tonight.
"Alone?" asks Nick. "Now?"
"Consider it my first royal order," says Jensen. "I need some air and some alone time. Go find Misha and let him know I'll be on the balcony overlooking the royal gardens."
"Balcony," says Nick.
"Over the gardens," says Joe. "Got it."
They scamper off, and Jensen takes his time going up the stairs. He loves the royal gardens, the peace and quiet and stillness of them, and he leans against the stone railing and takes deep breathes of fresh air.
Everyone's inside, and he knows Misha will be out to make him come back and be social, schmooze, and make himself generally available to be a prince.
But for now, he needs a minute to himself.
"I should have known," he hears behind him, and as he turns he scarcely believes it, because that sounds just like--
Sam gives him a shy smile.
"Hi," he says. "I--"
Jensen knows he should be calm and regal, princely, but all he manages to do is launch himself into Sam's arms and kiss him.
Sam laughs against his lips and kisses him back, light, happy kisses, and Jensen thinks it's maybe bad that he feels so much gladder about this, about Sam, than he does about being Prince of Genovia.
Sam pulls him closer and the kisses switch subtly, become longer, deeper, and Jensen realizes somewhat belatedly that they're really going at it when he feels Sam's back hit the palace wall.
Sam must realize it too, because he pulls back and stares at Jensen. "I was going to talk to you first," he says breathlessly.
"Did you just get here?" he asks. "I had every inn in the city on alert to tell me if any Winchesters checked in, and there was--"
"Padalecki," says Sam.
Jensen blinks. "What?"
"What I--that secret of mine," says Sam, laughing sadly. "I'm not--my name's Jared. Padalecki." He manages a weak smile and holds up one finger. "First in line."
Jensen stares. He's sure his mouth is agape and he looks ridiculous, but he can't help it. "What?"
"I know," says Sam--Jared. "I, um." He laughs. "I was going to tell you. I kept wanting to but Chad--he's kind of my bodyguard, I guess--he said I shouldn't until I talked to my dad, and I was ready to ignore him and tell you anyway, but then you left, and it's not like I could put it in a letter, so--"
"I kissed a prince?" asks Jensen. His brain is stuck.
"The prince would really like you to do it again," says Jared, with a shy smile.
"But you're a prince," says Jensen, like Jared doesn't realize this.
Jared hesitantly puts his hand to Jensen's head and taps the coronet. "Look who's talking."
Jensen swallows.
"I was going to abdicate," Jared continues, more softly now. "If I had to, I mean. You have no idea how relieved my parents were when they got the news that you were a prince. Not like the cabinet can object to me marrying royalty."
"Why?"
"Why what?"
"Did you lie in the first place?"
"I didn't want to be--a prince. I mean, I did, but I didn't want to be treated like one. I wanted people to like or hate me for myself. You know how Mycroft is." He bites his lip. "And I figured out in about ten minutes that you'd do that anyway, but--it was risky, and my parents would have killed me, and I really, really wanted--"
"You want a tour of the palace?" Jensen asks, cutting him off.
Jared looks surprised, but recovers quickly. "Yeah."
Jensen takes his hand, can't help smiling when Jared squeezes it. It's a lot to take in, but it makes sense, in retrospect. Sam--Jared--was always holding back a little, distant and unsure, and now, of course, he understands exactly what Danneel was saying in the conversation he overheard.
He's surprised by how completely he believes Jared. Of course, he has his own royal tiara in his hair, and his tunic, now that Jensen looks at it, is blue and silver, the royal colors of Lycindia, and even has the coat of arms on the left breast, over Jared's heart. And he trusts Sam, always has. Sam being Jared--of course he's going to trust that too.
Besides, he's dealt with some unbelievable things lately.
"This is the king's private hall," says Jensen.
"Very impressive." He clucks his tongue. "By the way, I was wondering--did you know you were the prince before?"
"No," says Jensen. "No idea."
"I didn't think so. That must've been--weird."
"Beyond weird." He laughs. "Did I tell you I was worried you weren't coming to my coronation because you were pissed at me for lying to you?"
Jared laughs too. "You didn't. You're right, I was pretty pissed." He grins at Jensen. "How could you?"
And just like that, Jensen's sure. Jared is Sam, or Sam is Jared, or whichever, but they're the same person, and the person Jensen is still in love with.
"This," he says, "is the royal private staircase."
"Royal and private?"
"It goes to the royal family's private rooms." He bites his lip. "Want to see?"
"Yes," says Jared instantly.
Jensen tugs his hand again and they go up the stairs fast.
"The king and queen's rooms are upstairs," says Jensen, when they get to the second floor landing. "This is for the royal children."
"Your rooms," says Jared.
"Yeah," says Jensen. "Through here."
The halls aren't even that familiar to him yet, they're too new, but he manages to get them to his room, and as soon as the door is closed, Jared is kissing him again, hard and frantic, and Jensen is kissing him back, can't get enough.
"In case I didn't mention," Jared says, between kisses, "I'm really in love with you."
"Me too," says Jensen. His fingers find the buttons of Jared's tunic and start working them open. "I figured we probably wouldn't be unchaperoned again until we were married, so--"
"And that'll probably take forever," Jared agrees. He shrugs his tunic off and starts on Jensen's. "My country arguing with your country, treaties and--"
"Mm hmm," says Jensen. "I have a bed."
"I bet it's really big. Comfortable. Princes have the nicest stuff."
Jensen drags Jared down on top of him on the bed, running his hands over the bare skin of his back. "You would know," he says.
Jared hesitates, his hand right above Jensen's waist. When he swallows, Jensen can see his throat bob. He wants to lick it. "Can I?" he asks, his voice lower than usual.
"Yeah," says Jensen, stretching up to kiss him again. "Please, Jared--"
Jared groans. "You have--" he laughs. "You called me Sam last time, and I couldn't--I wanted to hear you call me Jared so much."
"Jared," he says, instantly. "Jared, Jared, Jared--"
Jared pushes Jensen's trousers down and then his underthings and wraps his hand around Jensen's dick. It's the first time in his life someone else's hand has been on him, and he gasps at the contact. Jared smirks and starts working his hand hard and steady, and Jensen whimpers and thrusts into it.
"Missed you so much," Jared says into his ear, moving down to kiss his neck. "Woke up and you were gone and--" he laughs. "I thought you didn't want me. Thought you decided it was a mistake and--"
"Moron," says Jensen, catching Jared's lips again, and getting Jared's trousers open so he can touch him too. Jared's dick feels different than his, which isn't surprising, and Jared groans at the contact, which makes it a lot better.
They kiss desperately as they start jerking each other in earnest, more panting into each others' mouths than anything else. Jensen comes first, and once he has, Jared wraps his hand around Jensen's, helping him finish off.
Jared flops onto the bed next to Jensen and just breathes for a long minute.
"So, that should hold us over til we're married," Jensen finally says, when he's regained his functions.
Jared laughs, low and warm, and kisses him again. Jensen's turning, wanting to get closer again, have Jared, but before he can, there's a knock on the door.
"Prince Jensen," says Misha. "Your bodyguards informed me you were showing a tall young man the palace and might be in mortal peril, so I assume either Lord Winchester showed up after all or you're dead."
"Hi, Misha," Jared calls, burying his face in Jensen's neck. "He's not dead."
"Your parents are asking after you, Prince Jensen. And various others, of course. You have five minutes and then I'm coming in to get you."
"Make it ten unless you want to get an eyeful," says Jared.
"I missed you too, Lord Winchester," says Misha.
Jensen pulls his clothes back on and brushes off, trying to make it less obvious that he's just dragged Jared upstairs and had his way with him. Jared does the same, and they look each other over once, share one more kiss, and open the door.
"Prince Jensen," says Misha. "Lord Winchester, good to see you again."
Jared beams. "It's Jared, actually."
Misha blinks, nonplussed. "What?"
"Jared Padalecki," says Jensen, replacing his coronet on his head. "Prince of Lycindia."
Misha blinks again and then turns his attention to Jensen. "You are not seriously telling me that you managed to find another disguised prince to fall in love with, without either of you knowing you were royalty."
"I knew I was royalty," says Jared.
"You have the luck of the devil," Misha pronounces.
"Shut up," says Jensen. He takes Jared's hand again, smiles when Jared squeezes back.
"You would," Misha says, "somehow, charm the disguised prince of Lycindia. I should have seen it coming! I'm disappointed in myself. When's the wedding?"
"As soon as they let us," says Jared happily. "I imagine my cabinet will have a fit about how I want to move to Genovia."
"You do?" asks Jensen.
"You can't move to Lycindia," says Jared, as if it's the simplest thing in the world. "So I better move here."
"What about Lycindia?"
"Meggie's going to be an awesome queen," says Jared. "I'm not worried."
"I thought you said you weren't going to abdicate."
"I'm not," Jared hedges. "I'll still be prince. But there's a second in line for me, and there isn't for you. Kind of a no-brainer."
"Jared," says Jensen.
"They'll be happy. Think of the influence I'll have on the Genovian court." He squeezes Jensen's hand. "Trust me, this is exactly what I want to do."
"You two are disgustingly perfect," says Misha. "I'm depressed."
"Ask Katie to dance with you when the dancing starts," says Jensen. "She'll say yes."
"Katie Cassidy?"
"Yes."
"Hm," says Misha. "I see." He clucks his tongue. "I'll think about forgiving you. Prince Jensen, I'd suggest seeing your parents first. Princess Danneel was also rather anxious to find you."
As it turns out, as soon as they go back into the great hall, Danneel finds them before they can do anything else.
"I see you've met Jared," she says, smirking and looking them up and down.
"Hey, Danneel," says Jared, kissing her on the cheek. "How are you?"
"Well," she says. "Everything's all right for the two of you?"
"So far, so good," says Jensen.
"Good. For the record, I'm not willing to be your surrogate for heirs. So don't even think about asking."
"Prince Jensen, with all due respect to Princess Danneel, if you don't talk to your parents soon, they're going to have me drawn and quartered," Misha comments. "And I have grown rather attached to some of my entrails."
"We'll talk to you later, Danneel," says Jensen.
"Congratulations, by the way," says Danneel. She smiles. "For everything."
"Thanks," says Jensen.
*
"You must be Sam," says Jensen's mother, he assumes because he's radiating 'I'm in love with this guy' so loudly that everyone can sense it.
His father looks surprised. "Aren't you--"
"I'm Jared," he says. "Padalecki. But, um--I was using another name at school." He beams. "Low profile."
His mother's eyes widen. "You're the prince?"
"I wanted to tell him, but things got a little complicated," says Jared. "But--in case you didn't know, I'm in love with your son."
"He wasn't completely sure," says his mother.
"Mother!" says Jensen, turning bright red.
"I wasn't either," says Jared. "I mean, that you were--I knew I was--" he sighs and blushes. "We're both bad at this."
"You'll have to introduce us to your parents," says Jensen's father. "I've met them before, of course, but I think the circumstances are going to be a little different from now on," he adds.
Jared beams. "Yeah. I hope so."
Epilogue