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nathanialroyaleTitle: Admitting fault and Carrying on. Part 1 of 2.
Rating: (Blanketed warning of NC-17)
Beta:ebonrune
Content Notes: I have not written so much in sequence in a long time.This is split into two parts because of length. This part is 3173 words. The second part is triple that. I am very happy with these pieces. Ayo is yes in Royalian. This takes place many years after the novels, so there is an overview of events at the beginning.
Warnings: Mentions of Past Sexual, Physical and Physcological Abuse, mentions of past addictions to drugs and alcohol.
Plot: Twenty one years have passed since The Scourge War, and the hero, young King Nathanial, has died long before his time. Nathanial's son, Crown Prince Joscelin recently took the throne waiting in trust for him. The enemy of the war, Drefan Robert Royale, a man that nearly destroyed the world was forgiven by the altruistic Nathanial for his crimes. But even still Drefan has yet to forgive himself or those who pushed him to the brink of madness and beyond. It is past time that this broken man finds peace.
--
Events and Changes.
Joscelin Quele Ante succeeded the throne of Camar’a at twenty one years of age, year 2018 Astrium, beginning the Age the Stars. His first action as King shook the political quiet of the Kingdom that had been at peace for over twenty years. King Joscelin boldly addressed those that stood that day in the throne room with a message of political freedom and tolerance. He was convinced that the peace the world had been blessed with came at the cost of thousands who were oppressed by the Camar’ian government. The southern kingdom of Royale, the kingdom of the God of Darkness, had been ravaged by The Scourge War twenty one years ago that had nearly destroyed their entire world. Royale suffered needlessly because Camar’a feared the Kingdom that the Lich Drefan Robert Royale had been reared in, had been the prince of. For one man’s actions, an entire kingdom was held to blame and Joscelin refused to allow this to continue.
Samuel Taedras, an unknown man in the north lands entered the throne room that day, his silver curling hair to his elbows, dressed impeccably in a vibrant blue satin dress coat over a purple velvet vest with a white cravat and white linen gloves. On his back he had deep magenta wings proclaiming loudly without words his Celestial heritage and they fluffed as he made his way through the crowd, his presence majestic and noble. Hand on his rapier at his hip, he gave a flourishing bow to King Joscelin and the Camar’ian King looked from him to the nobles. This man would be the next King of Royale; the kingdom allowed its independence as long as a peace treaty was signed before witnesses and with oaths proclaimed before the Fifteen deities.
There was outrage; there was disquiet, ignorance and distrust of the man who would become Royale’s next King. But it was done then and there; the peace treaty read and signed by both King’s swearing an oath upon the Fifteen that peace would reign between the two kingdoms as long as both King’s lived to uphold it. King Samuel stayed only briefly though it was mainly in the presence of King Joscelin and Lord Riq’ua, the King’s Advisor. After a week the newly made King returned to his homeland in the south to begin the changes that needed to be put into practice there.
In response to this act, after two years passed to year 2020, the province of Naighn sent representatives to the King asking that they be allowed to be once again their own Kingdom as they were five hundred years ago. They agreed to vassalage with no resistance and it was decided and passed that Naighn, the home of the Daranigh people would once again be its own Kingdom enveloping as well the eastern province of Gadoighn. Following this event a year later in 2021, the province of Islay which had been rebelling violently against its foreign occupation for over five hundred years as well brokered for such status. At last Royale, Naighn and Islay would be ruled by their own and able to retract centuries of laws and prohibitions of their cultural heritages that Camar’a had attempted and nearly succeeded in destroying.
In the South land of Royale following Royale’s independence in 2018, Prince Drefan Robert Royale had no wish to keep his title, refusing to take the throne of Royale for his past crimes. Samuel, who was an astute business man and a wealthy merchant however still asked for Drefan’s assistance as the other had the political upbringing that Samuel did not. Drefan conceded to becoming Earl of the Eastern provinces, effectively cutting the Kingdom into two; he in the east, and Sevuk, the necromancer who had fought during the Scourge War alongside the Boy King Nathanial, the parent of now King Joscelin to win him back his throne, the west. The three men had an understanding of each other from background and lineage, and they worked in sync.
Weeks passed after Royale’s freedom was given before King Samuel grasped Drefan’s beaten hands, and dark purple eyes stared into Drefan’s midnight blues. Having stopped the other in a west hall, a less active route this time of day where they could speak privately, Samuel clasped the hands that had become gnarled with time even though the body should not have aged. He implored his confidant and friend, “There is an important decision I ask you to make Drefan. I ask you to think deeply upon your answer, take the time you need to contemplate. It is time to let go. To move on, and choose to live.”
Drefan puffed out a breath, shaking his head, knowing immediately what the older but yet oddly younger looking male asked of him, “You ask me to take back my soul, Samuel?”
“Ayo, I ask you to take back emotion and memory, to embrace the pain that will follow the restoration of what is so vital, take back what is rightfully your own.”
The sound of footsteps approached, worn leather boots padded the stone as Sevuk stepped from the east. Stopping a few feet from them, Sevuk’s bare arms crossed his ghostly white bare chest that was marked with swirling intricate henna, the same as on his back, his only good eye of orange studying the other Earl and at length he spoke up.
“You will not be alone.”
Samuel looked from Sevuk to Drefan, “You will have both of us at your back if that is your choice. Or simply take Sevuk, it does not matter. But claim what is your own and curse in the face of consequence. You have lived through horrors; you will survive the restoring of your soul, Drefan.”
The lich shrugged, acting as though the decision meant nothing to him and was of little consequence, “Fine.” Drefan looked past Samuel’s magenta wings to Sevuk, “You're coming with me. Let’s see how the King handles a day on his own without us to help him,” a small grin, always one to downplay the importance of something that troubled him.
Sevuk’s hollow laughter filled the hall, “Very well then. We leave you to your plans, Your Majesty,” Sevuk bowed, arms crossed, deeply. The gorged and stitched right side of his lips pulled when he grinned causing the expression to be gruesome.
Drefan and Sevuk headed off down a south hall out into the city to the teleportation circles that could take them to the Holy city Illander, capitol of Camar’a to the north. King Samuel was left to curse them and return to his study to continue the day’s worth of paperwork alone.
--
It was time to let go.
Riq’ua.
It was an unexpected sight, The Betrayer walking the halls of the Holy City of Illander. Most if not all the nobles of Camar’a had assumed that Drefan was long dead. It was twenty one years after the Scourge War when Drefan had disappeared and was never heard from again. The looks he received walking beside Sevuk at one time perhaps would have had him grinning in sadism. Giving in to their fears and ignorance, truly giving them a reason to fear and loathe him. But that time had passed long ago and Drefan was tired, he had aged even when he should not have. Without his soul within his body he was undead, he should not have aged, but with the loss of not only his sanity but his God’s, who was housed within his flesh, his body showed the strain of time. He had regained enough of his mind to stop the destruction he had wrought on the world, and although he felt guilt he would show no shame. Drefan would not allow himself weakness in the eyes of those who saw his people as blaspheming murderers. He was here to take back what was his, to confront the man who had had an unknowing hand in destroying him, sending him down that dark road to his breaking. He stepped proudly and with purpose, long strides down the halls, back straight and head held high. Riq’ua would hear them coming.
The task at hand brought back lingering doubts, but he pushed them aside. Drefan would retrieve his Th’ies, the spark that he would put back within his shell; the soul. Entering the castle library, Sevuk at his back, the lich approached the Elven Lord that so many years prior had shattered his heart and was another catalyst to his insanity. There was a commotion of sound from those at the tables and bookcases as more realized who the intruders both were. Some bowed, some stared, and others buried themselves back in their readings and work so they could avoid eye contact. Lord Riq’ua Riviria who had been seated, walled in by piles of books, looked rightfully surprised to see Drefan. Riq’ua, Royal advisor, High Lord of the Elven Council and the eldest Elf alive stood from his chair, leaning his hands on the table. Drefan passed by scholars and mages both as though they did not exist, his eyes set upon his goal, meeting Riq’ua’s gaze and not backing down. Forcing the other to stare into the midnight blues of the man he had destroyed.
Look into my eyes and know me for who I once was and what I have become. See your part to play in my fall. The weakness and the blind faith I once had pertaining to you, how foolish the young and hopeful are when they first feel a lick of love.
Aquamarine shifted as if the ocean lapped at the shores within the Blade Dancer’s eyes as Riq’ua was forced by honour and pride to face what he had done and words that were long in coming stuck within a parched throat.
"I owe you a great deal of apologies for the past, for how ignorant I was, my refusal to believe what was so painfully obvious. Drefan you told me things that...were so hard for you to say and I blatantly refused to believe them. I understand my words mean nothing in the face of my past actions... "
The mask fell and the swallow was audible, hands clasping before the Advisor in the silver robes. There was much to say, and so much to make right, but Riq’ua knew that that time was long past. Even so, he would say his piece and here was another time he would lay his head upon the block. If Drefan saw fit to beat him, kill him, he would take the punishment, the justice that the once shattered prince deserved. Just like that day, twenty six years ago when the Lord had been answered as to why his love had been so weary, scared and secretive. The day he had betrayed the youth in not believing by saying, ‘You lie,’ and refusing to stand up and fight for someone abused and defiled.
"You must hate me, and understandingly so for the pain I caused you. You trusted me to understand and to believe you but I crushed our love to dust proving your father right that no one would help you escape the torment of his abuse. And honestly...at the time I couldn’t believe it, I wouldn’t believe it because those things... They did not happen; the very idea of abusing one’s offspring was unfathomable. But I was blind not to see the truth; I turned my eyes away and acted in deepest dishonour. The scars told your tale, your eyes told the truth. I...I’m sorry,” his words faltered once again and he moved around the table toward the two men. Sevuk remained silent but vigilant by Drefan’s side and Riq’ua without care for what anyone in the library would see or later say dropped to one knee before The Bitter Prince.
“I believed you...I just...couldn’t..." Riq’ua shook his head and the words that his pride shirked from finally tasted air, his past fallacy and weakness urging him to say aloud his failure, “I wasn’t strong enough to protect you.” The contact of eyes fell away as Riq’ua bowed his head to the lich, and there was a stirring, whispering and commotion as the eldest Elf and most respected Lord and warrior in the holy lands of light bowed his head in shame to The Betrayer.
Drefan was silent, staring down at the head of long silver hair; without his soul many emotions were dampened and he had begun to lose his memory. The soul was the resting place of the past, and Drefan strained to recall the evening he had given his soul to Riq’ua, the night months later when he had been betrayed. But all he could recall was the shallow ring within his heart like a bell of love and hate, sorrow and dying faith; Far off emotions of that time but little more.
With no sound from Drefan, Riq’ua unfurled to his feet from his place of humility. The Elven Lord’s eyes found the lich’s and again they stared into each other’s depths. Both exposed to each other in vulnerability; both thinking about that day which for one was half a life away and for the other, ageless and eternal felt like seconds ago.
“I can say no more, the words will not come and they hardly matter. I understand why you came and I shall return what is yours to keep. I do not ask of you anything. Thank you for hearing me out Drefan, and I pray to the Fifteen that returning your soul will allow you a fresh start, a new beginning.”
Riq’ua slipped off the throng about his neck of leather that held the black diamond, the most precious thing he had ever had, cupping it in his hands.
Drefan’s heavily scarred hand was held out and Riq’ua laid the diamond in it, the beaten fingers curling to grasp the gem tight enough to pierce skin. Drefan nodded, his eyes not as dark as they had been when they first met the other man’s eyes and there was a laugh, tarnished by time and bitterness but a laugh none the less.
“You did love me.”
Riq’ua did not attempt to hide the pain of Drefan’s doubt from being read in his eyes; instead the warrior stepped onto this battlefield, allowing Drefan to see inside more fully. Showing the range of emotions that the Master Blade Dancer felt in Drefan’s presence in the vibrancy of his eyes; the respect, admiration, love and affection, and deeper still the failure and guilt at his inability to protect the other from his own fracturing. There was only silence on both ends for a time before Riq’ua inclined his head to emphasize, ‘Yes, Gods yes.’
Riq’ua’s lips teased a watery smile, “You say it as though I ever stopped.”
Drefan swallowed thickly, his eyes falling closed, and he brought the hand back to his side, still clenching around the gem that held his soul. It has been too long, perhaps Riq’ua had not changed but Drefan had, and he did not know if he could ever reclaim what he once was. It was time to stop looking to the past for answers; all it did was leave him wanting.
Shaking his head Drefan re-opened his eyes, “...Are you holding it together after what happened to Rapheal?”
Riq’ua’s brow rose at the faint concern, “I am. It has been two years now since the heart attack and my love’s death. Rapheal would wish me to live on in joy,” and the Lord crossed his arms before his chest. “As would a young Thom wish that for yourself.”
Drefan snorted, but his lips cracked a grin at the mention of his long dead but beloved younger brother, “You have it right, Riq’ua.” With a huff, the lich shook his head, regaining his balance and with it his dry humour that made words and efforts appear far less important and meaningful to him. Taking a step back, “Fare you well My Lord.” The soft sarcasm was not laced with disrespect, but with that old humour that Riq’ua remembered fondly. And following the words was the bow; deep.
Riq’ua’s eyes blinked twice, his surprise apparent before he stared and replied, “Fare you well...Your Highness.” The words came out even, a trick of the tongue and a training of the body, calm and outwardly collected as inwardly Riq’ua again felt as he had twenty six years ago.
I was and continue to be a foolish elfling even after seeing ten thousand winters;
But only it seems when it comes to you, I love you Drefan.
I always have, and I always will.
Love you.
Drefan gave one last shake of his head to the advisor and exhaled again, a huff of air, before grasping Riq’ua’s shoulder with his hand. No more words were said, but Drefan at last turned his back to the warrior, Sevuk’s eyebrow rising. Drefan shrugged his indifference to the emotional and tense situation and the fellow Necromancer rolled his one good orange eye, knowing his friend’s penchant for treating everything like it didn’t matter. But Sevuk turned as well and they both exited the library. If the retreat was at all hasty, Riq’ua did not begrudge the man as he himself turned away to his studies, losing himself in the duties that kept him level. The High Advisor knew he would be the center of rumours and the gossip mill for months at the very least, but when had that ever mattered to him? They could say what they willed, King Joscelin already knew about his past relationship with the then Prince Drefan, so it did not matter to the only person whom Riq’ua cared for the opinion of to begin with.Let the common and nobles talk, they always do.
They both were not their pasts, but their pasts were them. Memories, grief and pain. They both would have to move on, but a long abandoned crevasse was filled. Letting go, they could now look forward, not behind and that was all they asked for.
Just a little peace.
-> Part 2
Rating: (Blanketed warning of NC-17)
Beta:
ebonrune Content Notes: I have not written so much in sequence in a long time.This is split into two parts because of length. This part is 3173 words. The second part is triple that. I am very happy with these pieces. Ayo is yes in Royalian. This takes place many years after the novels, so there is an overview of events at the beginning.
Warnings: Mentions of Past Sexual, Physical and Physcological Abuse, mentions of past addictions to drugs and alcohol.
Plot: Twenty one years have passed since The Scourge War, and the hero, young King Nathanial, has died long before his time. Nathanial's son, Crown Prince Joscelin recently took the throne waiting in trust for him. The enemy of the war, Drefan Robert Royale, a man that nearly destroyed the world was forgiven by the altruistic Nathanial for his crimes. But even still Drefan has yet to forgive himself or those who pushed him to the brink of madness and beyond. It is past time that this broken man finds peace.
--
Events and Changes.
Joscelin Quele Ante succeeded the throne of Camar’a at twenty one years of age, year 2018 Astrium, beginning the Age the Stars. His first action as King shook the political quiet of the Kingdom that had been at peace for over twenty years. King Joscelin boldly addressed those that stood that day in the throne room with a message of political freedom and tolerance. He was convinced that the peace the world had been blessed with came at the cost of thousands who were oppressed by the Camar’ian government. The southern kingdom of Royale, the kingdom of the God of Darkness, had been ravaged by The Scourge War twenty one years ago that had nearly destroyed their entire world. Royale suffered needlessly because Camar’a feared the Kingdom that the Lich Drefan Robert Royale had been reared in, had been the prince of. For one man’s actions, an entire kingdom was held to blame and Joscelin refused to allow this to continue.
Samuel Taedras, an unknown man in the north lands entered the throne room that day, his silver curling hair to his elbows, dressed impeccably in a vibrant blue satin dress coat over a purple velvet vest with a white cravat and white linen gloves. On his back he had deep magenta wings proclaiming loudly without words his Celestial heritage and they fluffed as he made his way through the crowd, his presence majestic and noble. Hand on his rapier at his hip, he gave a flourishing bow to King Joscelin and the Camar’ian King looked from him to the nobles. This man would be the next King of Royale; the kingdom allowed its independence as long as a peace treaty was signed before witnesses and with oaths proclaimed before the Fifteen deities.
There was outrage; there was disquiet, ignorance and distrust of the man who would become Royale’s next King. But it was done then and there; the peace treaty read and signed by both King’s swearing an oath upon the Fifteen that peace would reign between the two kingdoms as long as both King’s lived to uphold it. King Samuel stayed only briefly though it was mainly in the presence of King Joscelin and Lord Riq’ua, the King’s Advisor. After a week the newly made King returned to his homeland in the south to begin the changes that needed to be put into practice there.
In response to this act, after two years passed to year 2020, the province of Naighn sent representatives to the King asking that they be allowed to be once again their own Kingdom as they were five hundred years ago. They agreed to vassalage with no resistance and it was decided and passed that Naighn, the home of the Daranigh people would once again be its own Kingdom enveloping as well the eastern province of Gadoighn. Following this event a year later in 2021, the province of Islay which had been rebelling violently against its foreign occupation for over five hundred years as well brokered for such status. At last Royale, Naighn and Islay would be ruled by their own and able to retract centuries of laws and prohibitions of their cultural heritages that Camar’a had attempted and nearly succeeded in destroying.
In the South land of Royale following Royale’s independence in 2018, Prince Drefan Robert Royale had no wish to keep his title, refusing to take the throne of Royale for his past crimes. Samuel, who was an astute business man and a wealthy merchant however still asked for Drefan’s assistance as the other had the political upbringing that Samuel did not. Drefan conceded to becoming Earl of the Eastern provinces, effectively cutting the Kingdom into two; he in the east, and Sevuk, the necromancer who had fought during the Scourge War alongside the Boy King Nathanial, the parent of now King Joscelin to win him back his throne, the west. The three men had an understanding of each other from background and lineage, and they worked in sync.
Weeks passed after Royale’s freedom was given before King Samuel grasped Drefan’s beaten hands, and dark purple eyes stared into Drefan’s midnight blues. Having stopped the other in a west hall, a less active route this time of day where they could speak privately, Samuel clasped the hands that had become gnarled with time even though the body should not have aged. He implored his confidant and friend, “There is an important decision I ask you to make Drefan. I ask you to think deeply upon your answer, take the time you need to contemplate. It is time to let go. To move on, and choose to live.”
Drefan puffed out a breath, shaking his head, knowing immediately what the older but yet oddly younger looking male asked of him, “You ask me to take back my soul, Samuel?”
“Ayo, I ask you to take back emotion and memory, to embrace the pain that will follow the restoration of what is so vital, take back what is rightfully your own.”
The sound of footsteps approached, worn leather boots padded the stone as Sevuk stepped from the east. Stopping a few feet from them, Sevuk’s bare arms crossed his ghostly white bare chest that was marked with swirling intricate henna, the same as on his back, his only good eye of orange studying the other Earl and at length he spoke up.
“You will not be alone.”
Samuel looked from Sevuk to Drefan, “You will have both of us at your back if that is your choice. Or simply take Sevuk, it does not matter. But claim what is your own and curse in the face of consequence. You have lived through horrors; you will survive the restoring of your soul, Drefan.”
The lich shrugged, acting as though the decision meant nothing to him and was of little consequence, “Fine.” Drefan looked past Samuel’s magenta wings to Sevuk, “You're coming with me. Let’s see how the King handles a day on his own without us to help him,” a small grin, always one to downplay the importance of something that troubled him.
Sevuk’s hollow laughter filled the hall, “Very well then. We leave you to your plans, Your Majesty,” Sevuk bowed, arms crossed, deeply. The gorged and stitched right side of his lips pulled when he grinned causing the expression to be gruesome.
Drefan and Sevuk headed off down a south hall out into the city to the teleportation circles that could take them to the Holy city Illander, capitol of Camar’a to the north. King Samuel was left to curse them and return to his study to continue the day’s worth of paperwork alone.
--
It was time to let go.
Riq’ua.
It was an unexpected sight, The Betrayer walking the halls of the Holy City of Illander. Most if not all the nobles of Camar’a had assumed that Drefan was long dead. It was twenty one years after the Scourge War when Drefan had disappeared and was never heard from again. The looks he received walking beside Sevuk at one time perhaps would have had him grinning in sadism. Giving in to their fears and ignorance, truly giving them a reason to fear and loathe him. But that time had passed long ago and Drefan was tired, he had aged even when he should not have. Without his soul within his body he was undead, he should not have aged, but with the loss of not only his sanity but his God’s, who was housed within his flesh, his body showed the strain of time. He had regained enough of his mind to stop the destruction he had wrought on the world, and although he felt guilt he would show no shame. Drefan would not allow himself weakness in the eyes of those who saw his people as blaspheming murderers. He was here to take back what was his, to confront the man who had had an unknowing hand in destroying him, sending him down that dark road to his breaking. He stepped proudly and with purpose, long strides down the halls, back straight and head held high. Riq’ua would hear them coming.
The task at hand brought back lingering doubts, but he pushed them aside. Drefan would retrieve his Th’ies, the spark that he would put back within his shell; the soul. Entering the castle library, Sevuk at his back, the lich approached the Elven Lord that so many years prior had shattered his heart and was another catalyst to his insanity. There was a commotion of sound from those at the tables and bookcases as more realized who the intruders both were. Some bowed, some stared, and others buried themselves back in their readings and work so they could avoid eye contact. Lord Riq’ua Riviria who had been seated, walled in by piles of books, looked rightfully surprised to see Drefan. Riq’ua, Royal advisor, High Lord of the Elven Council and the eldest Elf alive stood from his chair, leaning his hands on the table. Drefan passed by scholars and mages both as though they did not exist, his eyes set upon his goal, meeting Riq’ua’s gaze and not backing down. Forcing the other to stare into the midnight blues of the man he had destroyed.
Look into my eyes and know me for who I once was and what I have become. See your part to play in my fall. The weakness and the blind faith I once had pertaining to you, how foolish the young and hopeful are when they first feel a lick of love.
Aquamarine shifted as if the ocean lapped at the shores within the Blade Dancer’s eyes as Riq’ua was forced by honour and pride to face what he had done and words that were long in coming stuck within a parched throat.
"I owe you a great deal of apologies for the past, for how ignorant I was, my refusal to believe what was so painfully obvious. Drefan you told me things that...were so hard for you to say and I blatantly refused to believe them. I understand my words mean nothing in the face of my past actions... "
The mask fell and the swallow was audible, hands clasping before the Advisor in the silver robes. There was much to say, and so much to make right, but Riq’ua knew that that time was long past. Even so, he would say his piece and here was another time he would lay his head upon the block. If Drefan saw fit to beat him, kill him, he would take the punishment, the justice that the once shattered prince deserved. Just like that day, twenty six years ago when the Lord had been answered as to why his love had been so weary, scared and secretive. The day he had betrayed the youth in not believing by saying, ‘You lie,’ and refusing to stand up and fight for someone abused and defiled.
"You must hate me, and understandingly so for the pain I caused you. You trusted me to understand and to believe you but I crushed our love to dust proving your father right that no one would help you escape the torment of his abuse. And honestly...at the time I couldn’t believe it, I wouldn’t believe it because those things... They did not happen; the very idea of abusing one’s offspring was unfathomable. But I was blind not to see the truth; I turned my eyes away and acted in deepest dishonour. The scars told your tale, your eyes told the truth. I...I’m sorry,” his words faltered once again and he moved around the table toward the two men. Sevuk remained silent but vigilant by Drefan’s side and Riq’ua without care for what anyone in the library would see or later say dropped to one knee before The Bitter Prince.
“I believed you...I just...couldn’t..." Riq’ua shook his head and the words that his pride shirked from finally tasted air, his past fallacy and weakness urging him to say aloud his failure, “I wasn’t strong enough to protect you.” The contact of eyes fell away as Riq’ua bowed his head to the lich, and there was a stirring, whispering and commotion as the eldest Elf and most respected Lord and warrior in the holy lands of light bowed his head in shame to The Betrayer.
Drefan was silent, staring down at the head of long silver hair; without his soul many emotions were dampened and he had begun to lose his memory. The soul was the resting place of the past, and Drefan strained to recall the evening he had given his soul to Riq’ua, the night months later when he had been betrayed. But all he could recall was the shallow ring within his heart like a bell of love and hate, sorrow and dying faith; Far off emotions of that time but little more.
With no sound from Drefan, Riq’ua unfurled to his feet from his place of humility. The Elven Lord’s eyes found the lich’s and again they stared into each other’s depths. Both exposed to each other in vulnerability; both thinking about that day which for one was half a life away and for the other, ageless and eternal felt like seconds ago.
“I can say no more, the words will not come and they hardly matter. I understand why you came and I shall return what is yours to keep. I do not ask of you anything. Thank you for hearing me out Drefan, and I pray to the Fifteen that returning your soul will allow you a fresh start, a new beginning.”
Riq’ua slipped off the throng about his neck of leather that held the black diamond, the most precious thing he had ever had, cupping it in his hands.
Drefan’s heavily scarred hand was held out and Riq’ua laid the diamond in it, the beaten fingers curling to grasp the gem tight enough to pierce skin. Drefan nodded, his eyes not as dark as they had been when they first met the other man’s eyes and there was a laugh, tarnished by time and bitterness but a laugh none the less.
“You did love me.”
Riq’ua did not attempt to hide the pain of Drefan’s doubt from being read in his eyes; instead the warrior stepped onto this battlefield, allowing Drefan to see inside more fully. Showing the range of emotions that the Master Blade Dancer felt in Drefan’s presence in the vibrancy of his eyes; the respect, admiration, love and affection, and deeper still the failure and guilt at his inability to protect the other from his own fracturing. There was only silence on both ends for a time before Riq’ua inclined his head to emphasize, ‘Yes, Gods yes.’
Riq’ua’s lips teased a watery smile, “You say it as though I ever stopped.”
Drefan swallowed thickly, his eyes falling closed, and he brought the hand back to his side, still clenching around the gem that held his soul. It has been too long, perhaps Riq’ua had not changed but Drefan had, and he did not know if he could ever reclaim what he once was. It was time to stop looking to the past for answers; all it did was leave him wanting.
Shaking his head Drefan re-opened his eyes, “...Are you holding it together after what happened to Rapheal?”
Riq’ua’s brow rose at the faint concern, “I am. It has been two years now since the heart attack and my love’s death. Rapheal would wish me to live on in joy,” and the Lord crossed his arms before his chest. “As would a young Thom wish that for yourself.”
Drefan snorted, but his lips cracked a grin at the mention of his long dead but beloved younger brother, “You have it right, Riq’ua.” With a huff, the lich shook his head, regaining his balance and with it his dry humour that made words and efforts appear far less important and meaningful to him. Taking a step back, “Fare you well My Lord.” The soft sarcasm was not laced with disrespect, but with that old humour that Riq’ua remembered fondly. And following the words was the bow; deep.
Riq’ua’s eyes blinked twice, his surprise apparent before he stared and replied, “Fare you well...Your Highness.” The words came out even, a trick of the tongue and a training of the body, calm and outwardly collected as inwardly Riq’ua again felt as he had twenty six years ago.
I was and continue to be a foolish elfling even after seeing ten thousand winters;
But only it seems when it comes to you, I love you Drefan.
I always have, and I always will.
Love you.
Drefan gave one last shake of his head to the advisor and exhaled again, a huff of air, before grasping Riq’ua’s shoulder with his hand. No more words were said, but Drefan at last turned his back to the warrior, Sevuk’s eyebrow rising. Drefan shrugged his indifference to the emotional and tense situation and the fellow Necromancer rolled his one good orange eye, knowing his friend’s penchant for treating everything like it didn’t matter. But Sevuk turned as well and they both exited the library. If the retreat was at all hasty, Riq’ua did not begrudge the man as he himself turned away to his studies, losing himself in the duties that kept him level. The High Advisor knew he would be the center of rumours and the gossip mill for months at the very least, but when had that ever mattered to him? They could say what they willed, King Joscelin already knew about his past relationship with the then Prince Drefan, so it did not matter to the only person whom Riq’ua cared for the opinion of to begin with.Let the common and nobles talk, they always do.
They both were not their pasts, but their pasts were them. Memories, grief and pain. They both would have to move on, but a long abandoned crevasse was filled. Letting go, they could now look forward, not behind and that was all they asked for.
Just a little peace.
-> Part 2