This article will contain spoilers for the entire Captive Prince series.
I’ve never been the kind of child that took her favourite toys apart to see how they worked, nor am I the kind of reader that usually dissects a beloved story to see why it is hitting the right spots. However, when I found myself reaching yet again for the Captive Prince trilogy as a self-soothing mechanism, for maybe a tenth? Eleventh? Reread, I realized I might have a problem. And what better way to address it than making it everybody’s problem as well?
The story of a prince, betrayed, enslaved, and secretly smuggled into the nation whose crown prince he killed a few years back, then given as a possession to said crown prince’s younger brother, does not exactly sound like a comfort read. There are so many disturbing things in these books. If you’re reading this, you’re probably aware of the long list of trigger warnings that come with the series. I want to focus on what the books do particularly well, which is maintaining the perfect enemies to lovers plot from start to finish.
Enemies to lovers is a complex trope. It’s very difficult to get right. How did CS Pacat manage it? My belief, and it’s going to sound extremely obvious, is that both the enemies and lovers aspects of the story work very well. Yes, duh, I know, I know. But when you think about it, if you pick a book that has been promoted as an enemies to lovers story and you end up disappointed, chances are it’s because you’re either wondering why the characters were considered “enemies” in the first place, or how they ended up as “lovers”.
Let’s start with the “enemies” aspect first. In the first book, The Captive Prince, the enmity between Laurent and Damen is at its peak. It’s not banter, it’s not bickering, it’s not stealing their stapler or a parking spot (look, I will forever be on team “contemporary romcom can’t do enemies to lovers”). They properly hate each other. It’s visceral and violent. Laurent assaults Damen by proxy. He has him whipped. Damen did kill Auguste, and while we’re not supposed to know until Kings Rising that Laurent knew perfectly well who Damen was from the instant he laid eyes on him, it is a truth between them. Damen betrays him to the Regent, unwittingly putting his trust in someone who has hurt Laurent in ways he could never imagine.
Beyond these truths, there’s an almost… Pride and Prejudice vibe to it all. Laurent and Damen both have these preconceived ideas about each other, and it makes perfect sense when you first read the books, but on a reread (or a 10th but who’s counting) you start wondering how these two intelligent men could have let their hatred blind them so. And it’s even more the case on Damen’s side, because we see the story unfold from his point of view.
Damen sees Laurent as a spoiled princeling, pampered and cruel. Which makes sense when you’re Damen, routinely treated with vicious words and even more vicious actions. But if he had stopped to think, there are so many things that don’t add up. The loyalty of the Prince’s Guard. Laurent’s austerity (Damen sees him drunk once, and it was because the poor boy wanted to brace himself before meeting the guy who killed his beloved brother, and decided that he was a debauched party animal). Damen was actually the only Akielon slave mistreated in the palace by Laurent. The Prince’s guards were shocked to see his state after the flogging, which means he doesn’t routinely resort to violence.
Of course, without these misconceptions, it wouldn’t have made for such a compelling read. Prince’s Gambit is where the “italic oh” moments properly start for both characters, even if we only see them explicitely from Damen’s point of view.
I think the genius of CS Pacat is taking her characters outside of Arles and, more importantly, outside of the palace. The dynamic shift in book 2 was so complete that it felt, to me, like a different series. Not only did Damen become a military strategy advisor, which transformed the power balance, but Laurent could also show off his talents outside the vipers’ nest (his ability to manipulate courtiers translates to a form of subtle and irrestistible leadership when it comes to military campaigns). And look, we talk a lot about Damen’s blond fetish, but I feel like we don’t talk about his competence kink enough. Laurent earns Damen’s respect, by beating Govart in a duel, by leading an unruly army, by securing allies; martial talents that Damen can understand and put value on.
Prince’s Gambit is a pivotal book in the series because we get a succession of such moments, where trust is established and preconceived notions abandoned. It’s perfectly illustrated with the infiltration in Nesson-Eloy, arguably (and by that I mean argue with the wall) the best part in the entire series. Their allyship feels natural, they make a good team. And ironically enough since he is in disguise, we get to see who Laurent really is. Talented, highly competent, teasing, fond of games and long shots (and not insensitive to a hot guy’s show of brute force like, say, removing an entire grilled window from the wall) (there’s nothing funnier in the whole wide universe than Laurent bluescreening hard at this. Nothing).
So, enemies to reluctant allies to less reluctant allies to partners in crime to…something like friendship (“friends? is that what we are?”). Now, the romance.
The “lovers” part is so solid and makes sense primarily because in any other context, Laurent and Damen would have worked well as a couple. It’s something that’s mentioned multiple times in the book. There’s a reason why there are so many fics set in an alternate universe where Auguste is alive. If there wasn’t this huge betrayal between them, they’d have fallen for each other sooner. Laurent is Damen’s type, after all.
(…)If there had been no animosity between their countries, Laurent journeying to Akielos as part of an embassy, Damen’s attention superficially caught by the blond hair. (…) he was honest enough with himself to admit that if he had encountered Laurent in that mode, all golden lashes and needling remarks, he might well have found himself in some danger. (Prince’s Gambit, Chapter 15)
There’s also a lot to be said about how CS Pacat plays with the tension throughout the series. There are scenes where you are certain something is going to happen between the two, and then it doesn’t. Masterful work on the UST there. Every CaPri fan thinks with a sigh about Chapter Nineteen but book 2 is a feast of frustrated physicality, of looks and yearning. Delicious and sensual.
He remembered the feel of Laurent’s hair, his skin, and fought the urge to press against Laurent’s lips with the pads of his fingers(…). Another piece of bread. Laurent’s lips brushed against his fingertips (…). The touch resembled the first brush of lips in the kind of sensual kiss that begins as a series of smaller kisses, and then, slowly, deepens. Damen felt his breathing change. (Chapter 6)
He saw that Laurent was looking at him. Not watching him, as he did sometimes, but looking at him, as a man might look at a carving that has caught his attention. (Chapter 13)
(…)’I felt yesterday how badly you wanted to hit someone’ Damen found he’s moved without realizing it, his fingers lifting to touch the bruised edge of Laurent’s jaw. He said, ‘The man who did this to you’. (Chapter 14)
And when the tension finally breaks, it’s sweet. It feels like a choice fully owned by CS Pacat to contrast the intensity of their hatred with the heartbreaking sweetness of their love-making. We’re talking about one of the most famous enemies to lovers books in the genre and it has 0, exactly zero, hatefucking. They put down their weapons; they don’t use sex as a way to hurt or manipulate each other. It’s a submission, a disarming, for both of them.
If Prince’s Gambit is the book of physical intimacy, Kings Rising has the romantic declarations. They never say “I love you”, mind. They say things like “You know why” (Chapter 15), “I think if I gave you my heart, you would treat it tenderly” (Chapter 12). They don’t say “marry me”, they say “am I such a poorer prospect than a Patran princess, or a daughter of the Empire” (Chapter 12), “It was one kingdom, once” (Chapter 19). CS Pacat doesn’t feel the need to hammer the point home. It’s delicate yet effective. No pet names either. We do get “sweetheart” (derogatory) (but never “sweetheart” (affectionate)) (I admire CS Pacat’s restraint there, it would have been too easy, but really, a derogatory sweetheart without an affectionate sweetheart feels like opening a parenthesis that you don’t close, an “idiot” (affectionate), and it’s more than enough. Subtle touches that manage to convey a wealth of feelings, and how far these two characters have come.
Romantic fantasy is currently a very popular subgenre, and enemies to lovers is one of its staple tropes. The magic of Captive Prince is how in control CS Pacat is of his characters, their growth, and their undeniable chemistry, of how organic the evolution of their relationship feels.
I will forever be chasing the high of my very first read of the series.
