"I'm just no good at this," Ephraim sighed as he closed the book. "It's too thick, the words are too small. I just can't do this on my own, Lyon."

"Ephraim." Lyon shook his head, flipping the tome open to the marked page again. "I know you're smarter than this and your vision is perfect. If you can aim a javelin at a target from six feet away, you can read these words."

"I get bored, though, that's the trouble." Ephraim shrugged. "Come on, let's put this stuff away and go outside. It's too nice a day to spend cooped up in a musty old library!"

"Ephraim, it's raining," Lyon reminded him.

"Rain can be nice!" And Lyon sighed. The one flaw he could find in his otherwise perfect lover was a major one, and if he didn't try harder to correct it he'd be struggling by the time he took Renais's throne.

"Father MacGregor's been displeased with you for some time now. He thinks you're not working hard enough," Lyon said. "Wouldn't it be nice to prove him wrong?"

"No, not really." Ephraim shrugged. "Look, I didn't press you when you didn't do so well with the lance!"

"Because fighting isn't the most important part of being a king," the prince said. "Knowing his country's history is. Knowing numbers and taxes, things like that. A king may be lauded for his combat skills, but it's your intellect that will keep you on the throne."

"Easy for you to say," Ephraim grumbled. "You're the smartest person I know and the nicest. If it turns out I'm wrong and that's the most important thing for a ruler, you'll be better than me in every way!" Lyon blushed.

"Ephraim...I-I'm not that...that is, I-" And then he saw Ephraim grin. "You're trying to fluster me on purpose so I'll forget about studying!"

"Maybe." Ephraim snaked an arm around his waist, leaning in to brush his lips against his ear. No, don't do this, don't let him, his mind protested, but his body was already giving in as those lips moved down to his collar, the other boy's hands running down his chest. Why did Ephraim have to make him feel so good?

"W-we really need to study," he protested, but the last word came out as a half-moan and he knew he was done for. "Ephraim..."

"Let's take a break," Ephraim murmured, capturing Lyon's lips with his own. They tumbled to the floor, tangled in each other's arms, and the book lay open on the table, forgotten.

Perhaps studying is overrated, Lyon thought. It was his last coherent thought before he heard their clothes hit the floor, and the cool air against his bare skin.