DO AN ENJOLTAIRE AS MERTHUR AU. GO.
I FORGOT I HAD THIS ASK HOW COULD I IT’S SO GOOD
(Okay let me first say AUs in which any of les amis are royalty weird me out since, yknow, monarchy, so let’s assume Enjolras happened to be born the crown prince of Camelot and absolutely hates it and is determined to dissolve the whole notion of a kingdom when he’s supposed to ascend to the throne or something like that)
We all know how the story goes: everyone hates the current king for his ban on magic throughout Camelot. Enter Grantaire, a powerful (though he doesn’t realize it) wizard new to the kingdom who hates the king for the exact same reason, and his son by extension.
A vengeful witch tries to kill Enjolras. Grantaire saves his life, though he doesn’t understand why at the time. The king makes Grantaire Enjolras’ manservant as a ‘reward’.
They can’t stand each other at first. Grantaire’s never been that well-off, and he’s uncomfortable in a ridiculously lavish place like the castle. He throws snark at Enjolras every time he’s forced to dress him or pull his bath water or whatever. Enjolras, for his part, hates Grantaire’s attitude and snaps back every time he prods, saying things like ‘the size of my bed/stable/army is beyond my control’.
The Great Dragon tells him it’s his destiny to protect Enjolras and stay by his side. ‘Two sides of the same coin’, the Dragon calls them. Grantaire wants to serve Enjolras even less, after that.
Then he starts to notice things. The sparseness of Enjolras’ chambers compared to the other rooms in the castle. Enjolras paying the merchants for far more than their goods cost, then distributing it to the children of the town. His camaraderie with many of Camelot’s knights, yet his disdain towards the ones who talk down on the poor. Arguments that happen between Enjolras and his father behind closed doors while Grantaire stands outside (”No one person should be allowed to decide who lives or dies!” “It’s the way we’ve lived for centuries.” “Then the way we live must be changed. When I become king…”).
Grantaire sees a glimmer of hope through Enjolras. Maybe, just maybe, he’s someone who could change Camelot for the better.
Grantaire stops complaining about having to prepare Enjolras’ breakfast or polish his armour, even after Enjolras says he doesn’t have to. Grantaire tells himself he’s only doing it because it takes no effort with his magic.
If it were up to Enjolras, he wouldn’t have a manservant, but he can’t bring himself to tell Grantaire to leave. He doesn’t understand why–Grantaire is loud, insufferable, pessimistic, and often shows up late in the morning reeking of the town’s tavern.
But sometimes Enjolras catches a glimmer in Grantaire’s eyes. When he’s reading, or caring for Enjolras’ horse, or when he’s laughing with the knights on the training grounds. The grass seems to stand up taller where Grantaire walks through it. Enjolras knows that’s a ridiculous notion.
One day, Camelot is swept up in a mysterious drought that left it with barely any water and food (hint: it was magic). Enjolras steals the food that the king has been hoarding away in the castle stores and distributes it to the people.
It’s the same day Grantaire realizes he now has two secrets to keep: that he’s a sorcerer, and that he loves Enjolras.
Another day, a great beast which seems impervious to Enjolras and his knights’ attacks (hint: it was magical) knocks Enjolras unconscious on his back. When he comes to, it’s only to see an armourless, weaponless Grantaire standing alone in front of the slain beast. Grantaire’s eyes are golden when he turns around and fixes them on Enjolras.
It’s strange. He could swear on the life of every citizen in Camelot that Grantaire’s eyes are a deep brown.
“Do you permit it?” Grantaire keeps asking Enjolras. He asks when he wants to leave the castle, or assist one of the knights, or borrow a book. Enjolras tells him he doesn’t need to ask for permission to do anything. Grantaire is his own person, after all. Not that Enjolras could refuse him anyway. Still, Grantaire keeps asking.
“Do you permit it?” he asks, with a roll of his eyes, when Enjolras asks where he’s going. He’s only going back to his own chambers. Enjolras reddens.
“Do you permit it?” he asks, shyly, holding a tunic that Enjolras has gifted him for his birthday (which Enjolras went through a lot of trouble to discover).
“Do you permit it?” he asks, with thinly veiled panic behind his eyes as he holds a letter from his mother with shaking hands. He needs to return to his hometown for a while. Enjolras never wants to see that look on him again.
“Do you permit it?” he asks one day, when he stands beside Enjolras as a dozen archers aim their arrows at him. Enjolras takes his hand and smiles. He wishes they had more time together.
They aren’t shot. As if propelled by an invisible force, all the archers are knocked off their feet and their bows broken. Grantaire holds his free hand towards them. His eyes are golden. It’s all the confession Enjolras needs.
“Do you permit it?” he asks, wanting permission to leave Enjolras’ service. They avoided each other for a week after the incident. Grantaire’s use of magic broke Camelot’s highest law, which Enjolras hates. He doesn’t understand why Grantaire wants to leave. The thought makes his heart clench.
Enjolras permits it, on the condition that Grantaire stay by his side. It’s not an order, but a plea. No one should be forced to live in the servitude of another, after all, least of all someone like Grantaire.
Grantaire wants the reason for his condition. Enjolras gives it to him in a rush of breath. Grantaire’s eyes go wide.
“Do you permit it?” Grantaire asks, laying a tentative hand on Enjolras’ cheek.
“Yes,” Enjolras says. Grantaire’s eyes close. Maybe they’re golden. Somehow, when Grantaire’s lips touch his, he can’t bring himself to care.
Grantaire never asks for permission again.