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Eira was glaring at him. He had never looked this angry in his entire life, at least as far as Lance could remember. He felt a sharp pang of guilt in his chest, the taste of metal, and a weight in his stomach. He felt ill, and his face contorted from a smile to a grimace. Through his anger, Eira smirked. and stepped towards Lance.
"I thought I told you to never approach me again, Lothaire." Eira spat, his voice almost as cold as him, the air around the pale man was nearly freezing, causing lance to tense up. His grimace of guilt turned into what was nearly a frown of shame. He was almost scared of him. He was so much stronger than when he saw him last, a little taller, so much more handsome…
Fuck. He was still in love with him wasn't he?
"I, uh, I didn't- I... fuck," Lance stuttered, trying to escape the icy daggers of eye contact from Eira staring him down. He took a step back and coughed.
"I didn't expect to see you here... Especially this late." He murmurs, an unusual air of anxiety about him.
God, he was still so beautiful.
But he had never been so cold.
Lance thought joining the Jury would fix him. That he could lose himself in the senseless violence and simply forget everything else. Paint every place Eira had touched him in blood and battle scars until he couldn't feel the memories anymore.
But no amount of fighting, no amount of horrific self-indulgence could erase the mark Eira had left on his heart.
"To be honest, I didn't think I'd be seeing you either, Lothaire. Not after the last time." Eira snaps, the air around them dropping several degrees. Lance shivers.
Last time. Last time officially was on the battlefield as Lance swung his sword with blinding accuracy at the Heartless wizard, only to have it lodged in a wall of ice as Lance's own heart seemed to sink.
The last time for Lance had been so many years ago. When Eira had glared at him coldly from a stiff uniform as the Prince announced the new Captain of the Royal Guard... Lance had never felt lower. Never felt more like the man had put a boot to his back and ground him into the dirt.
"I'm sorry, I never could have tho-"
"Sorry? SORRY!? Do you think SORRY can fix this?? You nearly killed my best friend? You nearly killed the man that helped me accept something so fundamental to myself that I would have frozen to death had I not? You nearly killed Fl-" Eira's jaw snaps shut and he seethes, taking a hissing breath through his teeth.
"...You can keep yelling at me later. We're in the middle of a bar, and people are staring."
"Let them stare, Lothaire," Eira says quietly, and the words stabbed into Lance's chest like frozen blades.
Fuck it. There was no going back in this.
"You're saying all this like you're fucking innocent," Lance growled, voice dropping lower as he leaned in close. His skin stung with the cold around Eira. They were so close. Only a few inches. So close.
"I am innocent," Eira bit back, fractals of ice crawling their way up the sides of the glass in his hand. His whiskey had nearly frozen over, his hand cold enough to do the literal impossible.
"Oh, of course you fucking are." Lance was laughing now, he was fucking laughing and tears were beginning to streak down his face and his grip on his own glass was almost tight enough to shatter it. "So fucking innocent, perfect Eira Hale, captain of the guard, Prince Arthyr's special fucking plaything."
"Excuse me?"
"You really think he ever fucking liked you? He pitied you, Hale. He saw that you were a scared little kid, freezing yourself to death in the streets, and he felt bad for you. He gave you a job so he could pat himself on the back for being a charitable guy. His little pet witch, ready to listen to his every command. Subservient to a fault, and the moment you get a sense of free will, you use it to fuck over the only person who ever cared about you before that prince came along."
Eira's eyes finally fell, breaking the searing glare he'd managed to keep up since the beginning.
"You almost killed Flint," Eira whispered, letting himself finish his sentiment from before, any remote remorse for the way he'd treated Lance dissipating in an instant. "You almost killed the love of my life, Lothaire."
"Sucks that I didn't succeed. Maybe then you'd know what it's like for me."
There was a moment of tense silence, one of the first since they'd arrived.
"...You don't actually love me, Lothaire. Stop lying to yourself."
"You have to be fucking kidding me! You can't be serious, are you that goddamn self-absorbed? You think that was all just a fling? When I held your hand and brushed the hair out of your eyes and helped adjust your cape before you ran off to keep lying to your friends? You thought that was all just me wanting to sleep with you? I knew you were dense, but god, I didn't think it was that fucking bad."
Lance's cup shattered in his grasp, shards of glass digging into his palm.
After standing from his seat, Lance lifted his injured hand and tightly grabbed Eira's shoulder, pushing the shards into his skin and causing Eira to wince. He leaned in close, noses nearly touching, golden eyes trained sharply onto blue.
"Before I go... felt it's only fair for you to know. Your precious fucking prince? His kingdom's establishing a formal alliance with The Jury," Lance whispered, wise enough to make sure no one else in the bar heard the confidential information. "I'll make sure to say hi to Arthyr for you. I bet we'll get along great, huh? I'll send my warmest regards."