Fics like Oracle at Delfeur

Laurent wakes screaming. He’s dying. He must be. It’s the only explanation he has for the utter agony, confusion and terror that he feels. His brain is splitting itself open, bits of it strewn across space and time. He’s twenty one, in Arles, finally crowned. He’s fourteen, at Chastillon, on his knees for his uncle. He’s twenty, in Ios, watching a blade sink into Damen’s side. He’s sixteen, all alone, dreaming of revenge. Last night Laurent had thrust his arm at Damen, “attend me,” he had commanded, as if Damen weren’t a king in his own right. Last night, Uncle had sat on his bed, played chess with him. “I will always have time for you,” he had reassured Laurent, “even though Auguste has outgrown you.” Laurent leans to the side and vomits, violently. His fingers shake as he pushes his hair back, slowly, the room spins into focus. His hair is shorter than he remembers, Damen likes it long. His hair is exactly the same, cut by his nursemaid once a month. He is thirteen, at Marlas, and he knows everything.

Fics like Oracle at Delfeur

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