Alexios

  Fucking hells, Arun’s hair feels so damn soft against my chest.

  The desire to run my hands through it and press a million kisses all over his body runs through my body.

  He’s still sleeping against my chest as my arm rests around him without a single thought. I know I’m holding him closer than I probably should, but I can’t help it.

  So… you’ve finally taken him. Was it as sweet and romantic as you imagined it would be?

  My eyes remain fixed on the gentle pulsing of dying embers in the hearth, but my grip on him tightens ever so slightly.

  Every touch you gave is you binding yourself to him. You gave him power over you. Do you understand that?

  I’m not in the mood to latch on to her bait.

  You think you claimed him, but I see it. He claimed you. One day, he won’t be in your bed anymore and you will feel empty. Do you know what will happen then? You’ll come to me instead. You always come back to me.

  I glance down at Arun, watching the rise and fall of his breathing, and tell myself that I won’t let her be right.

  She sounds rather jealous anyway.

  To piss her off a tad more, I don’t let go of Arun for the rest of the night.

  Hours later, I wake from my trance to see the morning light coming through the curtains. I watch Arun for a few moments longer before leaving a slow kiss to the tip of one of his horns.

  He wakes gently, eyes blinking open slowly, and I can’t help but kiss the tip of his other horn. His tail swishes just barely under the blanket.

  “Good morning, beautiful.”

  He lets out a soft groan before shifting under the covers to face me better.

  “I was thinking,” I continue. “I’d like to take you to a bookshop today and let you pick out whatever you want. If you feel comfortable with that, of course.”

  His eyes open fully at that.

  “You… I can pick out whatever I want?”

  “Absolutely,” I answer without a drop of hesitation. “If you’d rather not, that’s fine too. I’d understand completely, but I’d like to see what all you’d choose.”

  I let him take his time with the decision. He’s worth the wait.

  Finally, I see him smile shyly.

  “Maybe.”

  “I’ll take that,” I say as I brush my thumb along the back of his hand under the blanket. “Think on it more, okay? We can see how you feel after breakfast.”

  Those beautiful amber eyes of his are sparkling now and I’m hoping he might say yes after all.

  By the time we get up and make it downstairs to the dining room, the servants have already set the table. The steam from the fresh bread curls upward in delicate little ribbons as the sunlight beams across the room.

  To my surprise… he slides into the chair right next to me. Usually, he would just take the seat across from me. I assume it was to be polite and keep the air between us more formal, but I guess that isn’t the case today.

  I love it.

  I try to keep my expression somewhat neutral, softly biting my lip to hide the smile that threatens to show on my face. Just that simple choice of his has made something inside me loosen up, almost like hearing a click of a lock that’s been opened.

  We eat breakfast in a comfortable silence and his arm brushes against mine every so often as we reach for something at the same time. Neither of us pull away.

  When we do finally speak to one another, it feels comfortable and natural. He makes a small comment about the local honey being better than last week’s so of course, I seize the opportunity to keep the exchange going by responding and adding to it.

  When his cup of tea is empty, I pour more for him without him even asking. He thanks me and the usual shyness in his voice doesn’t seem to be there anymore.

  When our plates are empty and the servants take them away, I turn to him.

  “Have you decided about the bookshop yet?”

  “I do really want to go,” he admits. “But I might need to be here in case a servant gets injured.”

  Before I can even answer, one of the younger servants passes by with a tray and pauses.

  “Maybe I could take over for the day?” she asks. “I’ve been learning a little here and there. I know enough to keep things running while you’re away. You work hard for us here, it’s the least I could do.”

  Arun looks genuinely surprised.

  “You think so?”

  She nods brightly.

  “I watch you work sometimes, sir. You explain a lot more than you think you do.”

  “Then… I’ll trust you for the day. Thank you. That’s… incredibly kind.”

  “That settles it then?” I ask.

  He looks back at me with that adorably shy smile that I’ve come to love so much. I see he’s feeling rather playful today.

  “Looks like it.”

  Before I can think too long about it, I lean forward and kiss his cheek. It’s soft but doesn’t fail to make him blush deeply as if I’ve just gotten on my knees for him instead.

  --

  It’s just past mid-afternoon when Arun and I arrive to Thistlemere by carriage. Thankfully, the streets not too crowded yet.

  Once the carriage slows and we depart, I follow his eyes to the bookshop just ahead. It’s a tall and narrow building with beautifully wide windows and the panes seem slightly fogged up from the warmth radiating inside. Just from looking through the glass, we both see shelves of books stacked nearly to the ceiling and the flicker of candles from within.

  He allows me to hold his hand as we walk inside and I thank the gods for it.

  The shopkeeper looks up from behind the counter and greets us with a polite smile before returning to the book in front of him.

  “This is your day,” I whisper quietly to Arun. “We can spend as long as you’d like in here, okay?”

  He looks down one of the aisles and I see him smile brightly before he moves forward to explore.

  I follow him through the aisles, keeping a bit of distance to give him room to breathe. I see him run his fingers over a few of the spines as he walks by, but he hasn’t pulled one single book from the shelves.

  He’s being cautious… even here.

  It’s almost like he’s measuring every choice like it might cost him something more than my money.

  I keep watching him as he stops to flip through a small book, lightly skimming the page before gently putting it back.

  You’d spoil him rotten if he let you, wouldn’t you?

  “Arun, you don’t need to be careful here. You can pick as many as you want.”

  He looks up at me, briefly meeting my eyes before looking down at the ground.

  “I don’t need many.”

  “That wasn’t what I said,” I answer. “If you want them, I’ll make sure you get them.”

  I can tell he’s trying to decide whether to test the truth of my words. He turns back to the shelves and keeping walking.

  I let him continue. Truthfully, I’m content to follow and wait. I’m already grateful that he agreed to be here with me.

  He lingers at the history section and pulls a slim leather-bound book from the shelf. I notice the unconscious back and forth sway of his tail that lets me know it’s the surest sign that he likes something.

  “Would you like that one?” I ask.

  He nods politely.

  “And… maybe this,” he adds, taking another book from the shelf. It looks to be a collection of research on various medicinal plants. His tail gives another small swish.

  As I move closer to Arun, I hear rustling behind me. Something shifts behind the next aisle and shortly after, a young man steps into view. Human, maybe? He’s a tall, dark-haired young man in a decent coat with a leather bookbag hanging from one shoulder. He’s holding a map but not looking at it. He looks over at Arun and then me as he smiles.

  “Good afternoon,” he says politely, but there’s a strange pause after he speaks. I don’t think he expected to be spoken to at all. “Seems like lovely day to get lost among old books.”

  “Indeed,” I reply. His eyes drift toward Arun again and I watch him a bit closer than I mean to. His posture is slightly too stiff.

  “Found anything interesting?” the young man asks.

  Arun swallows, likely just shy from a stranger speaking to him.

  “Yes… sir,” he says quietly as he holds the books tightly to his chest.

  “Good,” he says quickly. “Good. Always nice to see… other young people reading.”

  There’s an awkward pause again before the young man steps back, offering a small smile before retreating toward the front of the shop. His hand tightens around the rolled map.

  I watch him go until he disappears around the corner.

  “It’s alright,” I whisper to Arun. “He was just being friendly.”

  Arun nods, but he still looks a bit anxious. His tail has gone completelystill.

  Before he makes it counter, I slip past him and pull a few more titles from a nearby stack. One is a poetry book in a delightful deep green binding and the other is a book filled with historical text on regions I’ve heard him ask about before.

  He gasps softly when I hand them over.

  “I didn’t pick those.”

  “You didn’t,” I agree. “But… I think you’ll like them.”

  His small fingers brush over the covers and although I see him hesitate, I see his tail give that slow and gentle sway again.

  “Just let me get them for you,” I say softly. “Please?”

  We finally reach the counter and I pay without comment. As the coins clink into the shopkeeper’s hand, I glance quickly over at the door. There’s no sign of the young man.

  As we leave the shop and walk back to the carriage, I take the bag of books from Arun long enough to open the door and place them carefully inside. When I close the carriage door and look back over at him, he’s watching the hustle and bustle of the streets. I don’t think he’s quite ready for the day to end.

  “Would you be interested in going to the museum? It’s just a short walk from here.”

  He looks at me and I see eyes light up with curiosity.

  “Really…?”

  “If you’re not in a rush to get back, it could be worth your time. Artifacts, paintings… just a few of your favorite things.”

  His tail sways as he weighs the offer.

  “I… could be convinced,” he answers, smiling gently.

  “Well, let’s not waste the chance, hmm?”

  I reach for his hand to lead him over to the side street and he takes it.

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  To my surprise, the museum isn’t as crowded as I expected it to be. The marbled-floor halls echo as we step through the exhibits. We take our time as we move past display cases full of ancient coins and delicate pottery.

  We turn the corner into a quieter part of the museum and the walls are lined with elegantly crafted paintings. Our eyes drift over portraits, landscapes and even a few battlefields.

  One large canvas stops him.

  The painting depicts two men seated close together, their hands almost touching. One is leaning over slightly as he speaks to the other. The other man listens and his eyes are fixed on the first like nothing else in the world even exists. The painting is rich in color. Deep golds, browns and reds add an incredible amount of dimension to this piece.

  I see why it halted Arun now.

  He steps closer and I join him. I take a moment to admire the way the painter caught that current between these two men.

  Ah. You see yourself in them, don’t you? Do you imagine this is what you and your… little healer… look like to others?

  Arun tilts his head as he continues to study the details. It’s almost like he’s resisting the urge to reach out and feel the texture of the painting itself.

  “It’s… tender.”

  “Yes,” I whisper. “It sure is.”

  Arun looks over at me before he looks back at the canvas.

  “It feels like we’ve interrupted something private,” he says. “If that makes sense.”

  His tail swishes slowly behind him a few time and I wonder if it’s the painting that he’s responding to or maybe something else entirely.

  The rest of the museum fades away until it’s just us and the painting.

  I wonder what he’s thinking right now.

  Eventually, we move on from the painting and the next gallery is full of armor, old maps and a few panels of illustrations.

  I notice Arun slow below I stop with him. He’s focusing intently on one of the displays and when I step closer, I see why. Etched on a few illustrations are diagrams of the Underdark’s caves. Beside them, there’s a few portraits of drow. Their faces are sharp and proud as they wear clothing heavy with intricate stitching.

  Arun doesn’t just… skim the text. He leans in and reads it line by line. I see his expression shift between curiosity and something more serious.

  “Alexios… why did you come to the surface? Why didn’t you stay in the Underdark?”

  “You’ve read enough to know it’s pretty rare?”

  “Yes,” he answers. “I’ve met travelers from all over, but you’re the first drow I’ve seen above ground. At least, I think.”

  I look over the illustrations again before answering.

  “It’s a very… violent place. The politics are bullshit and so are the traditions in my opinion. Think of it as a blade in one way or another. When you’re there, you learn quickly that you’re either the asshole holding it or the throat pressed to it.”

  “And… you didn’t want to be either of those.”

  “Not if I had another choice.”

  The displays no longer seem like the most interesting thing in front of him anymore.

  “Do you miss it at all?”

  I don’t even have to think about the answer.

  “No.”

  There’s no hesitation in my tone. Out of everything the Underdark gave me…

  It took more in return.

  There’s nothing there for me to go back to or for.

  I let the answer drift between us for a few seconds before eventually motioning for us to move to the next gallery.

  “Come on, my love. I think you’ll enjoy this next one.”

  As we walk in, the air changes. It’s much cooler and drier here, allowing us to leave behind the heavier thoughts from the drow history displays.

  Glass cases line the walls and some even fill the center of the room. A massive skeleton of a sea creature hangs from the ceiling. Its jaw is open wide enough to swallow a grown man whole.

  Arun leans his head back to get a better look at it as his tail gives the slightest little sway before he stops himself from getting too excited.

  “I think that one is just a replication,” I tell him jokingly. “Would you like me to find you a real one?”

  He snorts.

  “And where exactly would we put that, Alexios?”

  “I’m sure we could make space in the garden. What do you think?”

  We both let out a quiet laugh and I lean down to leave a kiss on one of his horns. We pass a case filled with beetles and their shells catch the light like beautifully polished gems. Arun stops to look.

  “Do you like them?” I ask.

  “They’re… beautiful actually,” he admits. “In their own way.”

  As we continue walking, we spot a glass tank filled with preserved sea creatures. One of them has far too many eyes for my liking.

  “That is absolutely horrifying,” Arun says as he points to it.

  “But you can’t look away, can you?”

  He lets out a quiet laugh as he leans in closer to latch onto my arm. That little action makes me decide right then that this moment with him is worth more than any artifact in the museum.

  We make it to the end of the museum where one final display holds a painted mural full of fantastic beasts. Arun stops in front of a section that shows a horse with wings but also antlers that are dripping in silver.

  “Do you think this creature actually exists somewhere?” he asks.

  “Do you want it to?”

  “Well… maybe. I like when impossible things seem… possible.”

  “Then it exists,” I say.

  I hear him laugh again before shaking his head and moving on, but the gentle shifting of his tail as he walks tells me that I think he liked the answer more than he wants me to believe.

  It’s late afternoon as we step outside of the museum. The streets are much busier now and I think Arun might be having to adjust to it again after the quiet of the museum. He looks up and down the busy side street to decide which way to go now.

  “It wouldn’t be a trip to the city without me taking you to a bakery for something sweet,” I mention. “The one on the next street over is amazing. I used to go there when I needed to bribe someone into forgiving me for any possible fuck ups I made during meetings.”

  That earns me the sweetest little laugh.

  “So what exactly are you bribing me for today?”

  “Nothing,” I answer. “Unless I need you to forgive me for something I haven’t done just yet.”

  He rolls his eyes, but I can still see him smiling.

  “You really are something, Alexios.”

  “You love it. Besides, I know you’ll say yes.”

  He does. Of course, he does.

  He immediately follows me towards the creamy smell of vanilla and warm pastries drifting from the shop.

  The counters are filled with rows of glazed pastries, fruit tarts and a few chocolate truffles. I tell him to pick out whatever he wants and I can see by his expression that he’s trying to figure out if I mean it. Slowly, he picks one… and then another.

  And then a third.

  I don’t make any comment about it or even the subtle tail swishes he makes with each selection. I pay for his three choices, plus a few more that I hope he’ll enjoy once he tries them.

  We leave with the box of treats and make our way over to a small garden partially hidden between two old buildings. The noises from the main street die down to more of a whisper here. I guide him to a bench resting in the shade.

  He opens the box and lays the pastries out carefully between us. Sunlight filters through the trees and lands in his hair and brushes across his high cheekbones. In that single moment, I completely forget about the pastries.

  The light turns him into something rather… otherworldly? Every detail of his face is sharp and luminous, and I can’t help but think that he looks like a holy figure that’s been painted on a cathedral wall.

  He’s absolutely radiant.

  He catches me staring, but I don’t look away. He smiles warmly and breaks a piece of one of the pastries in half and offers it to me. I take it without a single word before biting into it.

  The sugar on my tongue is nothing compared to the ache pulling me towards him.

  He is not a god, Alexios. Stop looking at him like you’re a worshipper at an altar.

  I keep my face still, pretending she isn’t here as I continue to chew slowly.

  You think his sweetness is harmless, but I have seen it before. You will give him more until you’ve given him the part of yourself that belongs to me.

  Arun’s tears a piece of his pastry apart with careful fingers.

  “Is something wrong?” he asks gently.

  “No,” I lie as I take another bite of the pastry. “Nothing at all, my love.”

  He wipes the sugar from his fingers and watches the leaves blow overhead.

  “Earlier… in the museum,” he begins. “I didn’t ask the rest of what I wanted to.”

  “What would you like to ask?”

  I see his eyes move hesitantly to my hair.

  “The black streaks in your hair,” he says shyly. “That’s kind of… rare for a drow, isn’t it?”

  I go still for a moment. I know it’s an innocent question, but it lands a bit sharper than he even knows. I reach up to smooth one of the darker strands back behind my ear to buy me some time before I answer.

  Do not reveal me, Alexios.

  “It’s… somewhat natural,” I say after a brief pause. “I don’t color it this way if that’s what you’re thinking.”

  “Natural?” he repeats.

  I nod and force myself to smile.

  “Some of us are just… different, I guess.”

  He is quiet for a while, looking away at the trees again before looking back towards me.

  “Is it true what they say about male drow in the Underdark?”

  I don’t look away from him.

  “Some of it,” I answer. “Some stories are exaggerated by outsiders or historians but… yes. We are kept under stricter control and our use depends on the needs of the house.”

  “And you?”

  “I had to learn quickly how to survive. I learned when to be useful and how to be dangerous.”

  Arun doesn’t look away from me, but I can see pain in his features.

  “Were you ever treated that way yourself?”

  I’m silent for a while and my eyes drop to the half-eaten pastry in my hand. I don’t think there’s any way to soften my answer without lying.

  “Yes. Power is traded in more than just… blood and gold. Sometimes it was my body. If the matron of a house wanted to make an alliance with another, I was a tool to make it happen. A means to an end, I guess you could say.”

  I let the words come out dry and flat. I’m not asking for his pity here.

  I see Arun’s hands curl slightly on his knees.

  “That’s…”

  “That’s how it is, Arun,” I cut in. “It’s politics wearing a false mask of intimacy. I learned very quickly that refusing that role can cost you far more than your pride. I witnessed it happen to…”

  I inhale sharply and shake my head, refusing to finish that damn sentence. I wonder if he realizes how rare it is for me to speak this plainly.

  The tension lingers in his shoulders and I see that his tail has gone completely still. To shift the conversation somewhere else, I decide to ask about him instead.

  “What about you? What was your upbringing like?”

  I watch his amber eyes drift past me like he’s searching for something far away.

  “I… don’t remember much. At least not how most people probably do. The early years are blurry. My parents were devout followers of Ilmater. So was I. We didn’t really have much, but they taught me to value what I could give instead of what I could keep. Helping others never felt like a duty.”

  His eyes lower his trembling hands as he continues.

  “I always loved reading and painting. I learned about anything I could get my hands on. I even wanted to join a monastery once, but my heart leaned more towards restoration magic. Healing came easily to me.”

  There’s a pause and I see his tail curl inward. He’s nervous. I think about stopping him before he says too much, but he keeps speaking.

  “Then one night… everything changed. It was quick and quiet. By the time I fully woke up, I was already bound.”

  “Arun,” I whisper, trying to catch him before he says more than he’s ready for.

  “I was touted around Faer?n,” he cuts in. “Dragged from one brothel to another, shown like an object before being sold like one. The crueler the role they wanted me to play, the higher the bid. I stopped praying for a long time. I didn’t understand what kind of god would let a faithful follower suffer like that.”

  This memory is painful and I can see the sheer strain of it in his expression. I look away quickly so he can’t see the tears threatening to run down my face.

  How could anyone want to break him like that? How much pure suffering did it take to carve such… tenderness in him? Why is he still so damn gentle?

  I realize then just how alike we really are. We’ve both been shaped by cruelty and ripped apart by hands that took far too fucking much, but somewhere along the way… our paths split. He found healing in gentleness and mercy towards others while I turned to violence and control.

  I… didn’t know there was another path.

  “Things changed though,” he finally says. “I was in a brothel just outside of Chethel when a man bought me and took me to what would be my home for about… two or three years.”

  His tone seems a bit gentler around the edges now.

  “Your former master, right?”

  He nods slowly.

  “He helped me read again when my mind could barely focus and inspired me to paint when I thought I’d never hold a brush again. I lived with other boys too, but I mostly spent my time with him. I think he wanted me to have a life that wasn’t just… survival. I figured maybe Ilmater was finally blessing me and alleviating my suffering so I started praying again.”

  “You loved this master very much, didn’t you?” I ask.

  Arun looks up at me and is silent for a while. Maybe weighing how much truth to give me here?

  “Yes,” he finally answers. “But his love for me was somewhat… conditional.”

  I tilt my head and move a strand of hair back behind one of his horns.

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean… it was clear that he did care about me. He gave me more than I’d ever had at the time, but looking back on everything now, I think his affection was always tied to something. It wasn’t cruelty like I knew in the brothels, but it certainly wasn’t real freedom.

  I sit with his words for a long time as we listen to the quiet sounds of the streets beyond the small garden.

  “Thank you for telling me,” I say quietly. “I won’t push for more, but I want you to know that if you ever need to talk about anything, I’m here. Always.”

  I stand from where I’m sitting on the bench and move to kneel in front of him, gently taking his hands in mine as I look up at him.

  “Be with me,” I tell him. “I want to belong to you. I want to give you everything you need and want. No matter what it takes from me.”

  He leans back and meets my eyes with a look of pure surprise. His soft lips part like he wants to speak, but no words come out. I think he’s still trying to find them.

  You want to belong to him? Watch your words, Alexios. This doesn’t just sound like generosity.

  I gladly ignore her words and tighten my hands on Arun’s in hopes that it will keep her out.

  “Are you saying that because you really want that or because you feel pity for me?” he asks quietly. His eyes are filled with tears so I reach up and wipe a stray one that’s falling down his face.

  It’s not an accusatory question. I understand exactly where it comes from.

  He’s scared.

  “I mean it,” I answer. “Guilt doesn’t make me think the things I do when I see you in the sunlight or how I feel when I see you want something when I know I can give it to you.”

  The initial wave of shock has lessen from his expression and thankfully, he doesn’t look away.

  “I don’t need everything, Alexios.”

  “Let me give it to you anyway,” I answer, far too quickly than I should.

  “Why?” he asks. “Why would you even want me after all that I just told you?”

  “Because I’m…”

  I catch myself mid-breath.

  Because I’m madly in love with you, Arun.

  I know it’s true. More than anything I’ve ever known. He’s had me wrapped around his fingers since I saw him in that damn library in Baldur’s Gate.

  Oh… so close. Go on, Alexios. Say it. Let me hear you so I can taste it when you break this poor boy’s heart.

  The unfinished sentence hangs intensely up in their air and Arun tilts his head, looking down at me with curiosity in his expression. I force the sentence into something much safer.

  “Because it’s what I want,” I finish.

  I think he knows whatever I didn’t say mattered more than what eventually came out of my mouth, but he leans back onto the bench anyway and continues to let me hold his hands without a single question.

  --

  The walk back to the carriage is incredibly quiet. It’s not awkward, but just… heavy. I open the door for him and he steps in without a word. The small box of pastries rests in his lap and he briefly looks over at the book bag from earlier in the day. I sit beside him as the driver moves the reins and the city begins to roll past us in a blur of beautiful evening light.

  Arun leans further into his side of the carriage and I watch as the fading sunlight moves along his profile. Those same almost-words press again at the edges of my lips.

  I love you.

  I love you so fucking much.

  I grip my knee instead and sigh softly. He doesn’t seem to mind the peace and quiet. Every so often, I feel his tail brush my leg before curling back again.

  You want to say it so badly, don’t you? Poor Alexios.

  I force my eyes to move to the window instead of Arun, but his shoulder is pressed so closely against mine that I can’t pull my thoughts away from him.

  When the manor comes into view, I realize I haven’t spoken a single word to him the entire ride, but somehow it feels like we’ve been in the middle of a conversation the entire time.

  I let myself sit with all his admissions from earlier as the carriage turns onto the gravel drive leading up to manor. Conditional is such a simple word, but it tastes unbelievably bitter.

  A love that sounds like it depends on obedience and being useful? Unfortunately, I know that kind more than I’d like to. I’ve endured it and even dealt it when I needed to, but when I look at him?

  I know what I want to give him isn’t that.

  The carriage finally slows and I’m still watching him when the diver comes around to open the door for us. Arun knows I’m looking at him, but he doesn’t ask what I’m thinking right now.

  The gentle smell of flowers from the surrounding gardens drifts through the evening breeze as we step inside the house. I find myself imagining what it might feel like for him to never doubt where he stands with me. I want him to know with confidence that the care I have for him could never be tied to what he can offer me.

  I don’t want anything from him except for the privilege of loving him.

  Arun excuses himself to his healing room for a few hours and I retreat to my study where a book lies open in front of me, but I haven’t even turned the page in half an hour or so.

  Is conditional love what you are just so eager to save him from?

  I sigh heavily, exhausted not only from the day but from her bullshit too.

  You cannot even lie to yourself anymore about your feelings for the little tiefling, but you will see, Alexios. The love you want to give him never lasts. When he leaves you, you will remember where you belong. You are not made for this kind of gentle love. You are made for violence and you know it.

  I close the book with a loud snap in a shitty attempt to shake the echo of her voice in my mind.

  I fill my mind with the beautiful image of Arun in the city’s garden. The sunlight bathing him in its golden light and turning him into something divine is not a thought that I’m willing to separate with tonight.