![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
nathanialroyaleTitle: Admitting fault and Carrying on. Part 2/2.
Rating: (Blanketed warning of NC-17)
Beta:ebonrune
Content Notes:This is split into two parts because of length. This part is 8,465 words. I am very happy with these pieces. Ayo is yes in Royalian. First Het sex scene. I left Amaya's name in the western style with last name being after the first for simplicity, I realize it would be switched.
Warnings: Mentions of unrequited incest, Yaoi, Yuri and Het. Mentions of Past Sexual, Physical and Physcological Abuse, mentions of past addictions to drugs and alcohol, Sex scene.
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.
--
A return of what was lost.
Drefan decided that when he did the ritual to free his soul from the black diamond and take it back within his body that he would do so alone. He had no wish for Sevuk or Samuel to see him, as the initial outpour of emotions and memories would be overwhelming. A reclaiming of everything he had lost; the good, the bad, the pain and the joy, memory and emotion. He had not had many individuals he would call friends in his forty seven years and with the return of his soul he worried of losing them to weakness. Drefan consequently kept to himself for a few days. King Samuel was a persistent if not stubborn individual however who would not let him be on his own for too long.
Drefan had gained back the living vitality of his body, undoing the horrid aging that the Abyss had caused, finding that he was once again twenty one when he had been forty seven. His previous strength returned to him of when he had trained his body hard in different fighting disciplines to defend himself and his brother. His body and his mind remembered what it meant to be youthful. But sleep evaded him, there was no rest to be found, plagued by nightmares of a past he was remembering now in fullest detail. Drefan once again felt the hate and resentment slice into his heart at every word and touch of the abuse he had suffered for so long. Drefan understood anew why he had walked that dark road, why he had begged his deity to give him more power to protect himself and his sibling and how the abuse and shame cracked and fractured him until the chipping pieces began to fall.
Unable to take the nightmares any longer, on the third night after he had regained his mortality, Drefan whose fortitude was not at its best going without sleep for the first time in over twenty years and feeling the effects on a living body, needed a solution. The clerics together made a deep sleeping draught, something that would put him into a rest he would not rise from for days. It was the best option for now, as he knew his body required the time to come out of the shock of de-aging and suddenly being mortal once again. Then he could deal with the emotional and psychological changes when his body was not going to give out beneath him. Unknown to him while he slept in the royal castle of Tuima Royale, arms hugging his pillow to him as he rested on his stomach Samuel ran clawed fingers through his golden blond hair. The new King of Royale had settled to sit on the side of the bed watching Drefan sleep deeply and finally restfully. Samuel had kinship ties to the other man, his father Taedras was one of the Fallen Arch Angels of Judgement, originally an Arch Angel of Reinn Anon, God of Winds, Light and Angels. But Taedras, who was then known as a different name fell from grace persuaded by Nanqa, God of Darkness and became the Arch Angel of Annihilation. Taedras had been the fore-father of the Royale bloodline, so that made Drefan a very distant relative as Samuel was of Taedras as well.
Drefan did not realize the comfort, as the King had been gone by the time he woke from his slumbers. The initial week passed quickly as Drefan began to experience life as a young man again, but with the long stretch of experience and memories of years to come. After the wave of the initial outpouring, he settled in easier to once again having his soul back and dug into his duties as Earl. He had the laughter and camaraderie of Samuel and Sevuk. True friends, something he had not had since his adolescence. But he found it was not enough, now returned was an ache he had not relished returning; Loneliness.
--
It’s time to move on.
Introductions.
Amaya.
Arms tucked in and ducking, fists flew, and straw stuffing spilled out the sides of the dummy down onto the ground. Stepping back, he spun, striking out with his leg and he blew bangs from his eyes with a puff of breath. The hairs on the back of his neck had risen and his posture had stiffened. There had been someone watching Drefan for nearly ten minutes now, leaning against the wooden fence that surrounded the training area in the castle grounds. His back had been to this stranger, and as he had not been the only one training beneath grey clouds that promised rain. He had hoped if he ignored the attention they would leave, but clearly this wouldn’t be the case. Turning to the stranger at the fence, Drefan pushed golden blonde bangs back with a sweaty hand and a brow rose when he took in the sight of who was watching him.
The woman had clearly been traveling, the tan linen wrap robes that were trimmed sage with bellowing sleeves had dirt and mud in different places. There was a patch of dirt on her cheek, her skin tanned golden by the sun as though she had once been pale but had spent over a year under the harsh rays. Her hair was thick, bone straight black held up in place by small intricately decorated sticks, so some was built up and the rest pooled down along her back. Hands were folded over each other before her as she leaned lightly against the wood railings of the fence. Ears pointed through the mass of black, eyes of jade on Drefan as he turned to acknowledge her presence. She appeared fine boned like most Elves, form hidden by the traditional Hangfu, and although she did not have the aura of Shadow that the Myr’ael, Shadow Elves always had permeating the air about them, he at first took her for a Myr.
Arms crossing his sweat soaked chest Drefan at last addressed her, “And what can I do for an Elven Lady?”
Amaya shook her head, leaning a little more on the fence, “A Lady no more. I gave up my title and all that was attached to my family name centuries ago.”
Drefan’s brow stayed up from initially seeing her, she had been nobility and given everything up? Odd... “...Well then, Madame?”
“You’re much younger than what I expected, if you do not mind me saying so.”
“Younger? So you do know who I am then?” There was an edge to the words, defensive, as he always had to be when speaking to those who had only heard of him but never met him. There were too many rumours and slander, tales of The Scourge War and his past betrayals.
“You were Prince Drefan Robert Royale. I think you’re an Earl now, am I right?”
“Ayo, you're right. What interest do you have in me, stranger?”
“Oh, I apologise.” She straightened from her comfortable position and she bowed at the shoulders, her hands still folded neatly before her, “Amaya Lu.”
Amaya’s head tilted once she had straightened and Drefan had bowed at the waist, arms folded in the Royalian style of bowing. Her accent was lyrical like all those who spoke Sere’th, the Elvish tongue, but there was something else to her voice, a foreign flavour Drefan had never heard before. And the Earl was a well traveled man, it bothered him he could not place her accent, but he listened as she spoke more. “I have found what I have heard of you intriguing; it is true you have recently taken back your soul from lichdom?”
Drefan tensed further and somewhat impatient, feeling increasingly like some animal on display he mutters, “Ayo.”
Picking up skirts of the robes the woman slipped herself over the wooden fence with ease, showing the well worn leather boots beneath. Pushing her black hair away from her green eyes, the woman did not seem to mind the mud the rain had made of the training area.
“I’m making you uncomfortable... Do you know what I am?”
Drefan’s brows furrowed as he looked her up and down twice more, she reminds me of how you were, Nathanial; an aura around her of peace that calms the restless and resentful, and it makes me nervous. Change is in the air and it smells of cinnamon and amber.
“Perhaps I do.”
Amaya’s lips dipped, the smallest smile, not grandiose by any measure but Drefan could tell for the effort that it was honest.
“Alistiel, the Arch Angel of Solace comes to us if we are chosen, some train for countless years only to be turned away. But others with no training at all are spoken to. In my peoples language we are called Divine Courtesans, though in this tongue I have heard us be referred to as Sacred Prostitutes.”
Sacred Prostitutes; who allowed their bodies to be a temple for others. Those who are followers of Naik’Lea, Lady of Suffering, blessed by the Arch Angel Alistiel, Angel of Solace. The blessed vessel of flesh used in prayer, offering a way to bring divinity to the common. A misunderstood life, but deeply appreciated by those who had crossed paths with them before. Giving a way to end the suffering and pain of any and all who asked so they can be whole, if only for one night. Healer of minds, menders of hearts. Living a life of poverty and travel, these men and women did not often say no to any who asked, selfless and devout.
Drefan’s dry humour prevailed, and he sounded amused, even allowing a little grin to show, “A worshipper of Naik’lea searches me out because I am intriguing?” Drefan took a step toward her, as he knew she was only telling half the truth. The amusement a precursor to violence if she did not explain herself, for there was no humour in his midnight blue eyes.
Amaya gave a bow once again, her hands clasping each other, straight to the ground, “In truth I was told to come here, to find you by The Lady Naik’lea. Is it not time you were allowed some healing? Forgiveness was given by others long ago, but you are still wounded, scarred from the battles you fought for yourself, and for those you loved. They rest now, or are at the very least getting the healing they require. So why not you? Do you not deserve peace too?”
“Peace? You cannot know who I am if that is what you assumed. You cannot know what I have done,” eyes darkened toward black and Drefan grit his teeth toward the blue sky, I feel guilt but no shame, a mantra.
“Well then, tell me. Tell me why I should hate you.”
Black as night eyes flashed back to the woman who was taller than he at 6’0 to his 5’10 as she took her steps through the mud. Drefan stood his ground as she stepped up to him, allowing only the decency of a few inches between them both. Jade eyes filled with vibrant light would not leave his black, neither showing any discomfort at the closeness, unwilling to give advantage or show weakness. Amaya stared into the depths of his eyes and she shook her head, not backing down, “Explain to me why I should take what the ignorant tell me as the truth. I have met no one of Cama’ra yet on my travel, and your people, as well as I can understand Royalian, love you. So what then, what then is for me to hate?”
Drefan was taken aback by the bite of her voice, the driven nature of this woman who had an intensity unlike any women he had ever known besides the desert Elven Queen, Nilec Quele. And it was then that he saw it, there was something behind those jade eyes, hidden from the masses but clear as day to those who knew how to look. Beyond the beauty and perfection of the outer flesh, inside; this woman was seething, broken, and worn out.
And at once she reminds me of how you were, Nathanial, in your serenity, but also myself in the jaded nature of her eyes, and Nilec in her pride and regal bearing. And I can even see chips of my brother Thom in those green irises, the strength of perseverance and hope.
“You want to know?”
Amaya nodded resolutely, her eyes never leaving his own and it pushed the blond man, who swore under his breath and shifted fingers restlessly through his hair. Was he going to open up to this woman? Trust her without anything else to go on besides the far off pain in her eyes and the strength of her words? But had he not trusted Lawrence on less, the only friend he had ever had when he was an adolescent? With his soul returned he knew he needed companionship, friendship again, and Sevuk and Samuel were good friends, but there were things they could not hope to understand. But a Sacred Prostitute of Naik’lea could, even for one evening heal his mind, fitting all the fallen and discarded pieces back inside, allowing him to be whole for just enough time to sort through all the mess. He owed it too much to people to not try. He owed it to Thom who would wish him to move on, and to Nathanial, who had after everything Drefan had done to him had forgiven him for all his transgressions.
Hands fisted as Drefan thought on how to answer, on taking a chance, but he noticed that she was silent, her green eyes not leaving his face. Patiently waiting for his reply, she was a woman of silent strength, patient but intense when she needed to be. He could see himself respecting her and because of that he would open himself up to her, “Tonight; you ask a servant where my room is at dusk and come to me there.”
A golden glow enveloped her skin, the hue adding lustre at Amaya’s joy. “I will be there.”
Inclining her head respectfully, she turned her back to him, “Good training My Lord.” And she slipped herself back over the fence; the glow permeated the air around her as she left the male standing in the mud. Drefan had only known two women in his life, the woman who had given birth to him, Queen Elizabeth Royale, a woman too cowed to fight, a woman who had stood up for him once in his youth and never again. And Queen Nilec Quele, a woman driven by destiny, a terrifying and beautiful woman who had more balls than many men, but was unbalanced for the sacrifice. It had been years since he had interactions with either and this left Drefan confused and not prepared to handle any female, let alone one such as Amaya, who one moment with the fury of the sun would not back down from a fight and the next stood silently, patiently waiting for an answer. She was mix of the two women he had known and so much more.
The young man snickered and shook his head, arms uncrossing to put hands on his hips. Drefan’s lips cracked another grin and he started to laugh; men had a difficult enough time normally with women and here he was without almost any experience at all. This was bound to be interesting, and awkward as hell.
---
It’s time to move on.
Heart break and Heart ache.
Amaya.
Amaya traveled light and did not take with her the last of her silks, so she had set to in her room, scrubbing the Hangfu that had been covered in the evidence of her year journey. She had not expected as she knelt on the stone floor of her room in the tan linen under dress for there to be a knock at her door. She answered it, shielding herself with the wood and standing there was a young woman who shifted nervously and held in her hands a dress. It was grey linen with light blue lace edging on the strap, bosom and bottom. Clearly this dress had been made by hand and coin saved frugally to afford the little bit of lace. The young Royalian woman smiled to Amaya and in faltering common explained that word had spread that Drefan, who the people still referred to as prince, was spending time with her this evening. For the occasion she could borrow the dress and Amaya immediately at this bowed deeply, her hands clasped before her in humility and gratitude. The Sacred Prostitute brought the dress to her bosom as though it was made from the finest silks of her homeland and smiled, attempting her own faltering thank you in Royalian. In simple common Amaya promised the dress would be well taken care of and returned on the ‘morrow.
With her hair held up by the sticks that were actually small thin knives for her protection and the borrowed dress, she in bare feet walked the stone halls, thankful for the summer warmth. She found her way slowly with helping directions from a guard to Drefan’s door. The reply to the knock was mumbled but Amaya heard it well enough through the door and she cracked the door open and slipped into the room through the opening. The room was unlit except for the sinking sun, drapes translucent white and shifting with the breeze behind a small table and chairs. Drefan sat on the queen size bed, spread legs over the side, and elbows on his knees. He was wearing brown trousers and leather boots but no top and at first he did not acknowledge her presence. Amaya softly, silently moved around him to take a seat at that little table as Drefan stippled his forehead with his fingers.
“Where do I even begin?”
Amaya’s hands lay on her lap, “Wherever is easiest.”
“Heh, alright.”
Drefan looked to her, taking the time to appreciate what he could see. The dress did not show very much cleavage, but it gave allusion to such and the lace edges ruffled at her shoulders, leaving her arms bare. The linen ended below her knees, showing more of the golden skin tanned long by the sun and her toes curled in against the stone. Was it that she was Naik’Lea’s? An Elf? Drefan did not know why he could appreciate her beauty, the shape of her form where he had not cared enough to do so before with other women. He had thought he could only appreciate aspects of the male body, but perhaps that was not so, for he found her alluring and beautiful, her head lying to the side as he took her appearance in. But at last he shook his head, back to the business at hand and allowed her to look into his eyes, showing her the wall, built up in expectation of her leaving disgusted, or worse, pitying him. It had happened before, and it was experience that made him be ready for the same negative reactions as he began to tell his life story for her.
“My childhood is repetitive; I’ll spare you the details. Just let it be said my ‘father’ Robert Royale was sick son of a bitch. I was ashamed and scared of what was happening to me, what I couldn’t stop, so I didn’t breathe a word to anyone. When my younger brother Thom Anstrev Royale was born, I swore to Nanqa I’d protect him from that bastard. I was the second son, as by Royalian tradition the first child is given back to Lord Nanqa, but even though I was by rights then first son, I was not heir. I was not docile enough, not so easily pushed around and intimidated so then, Thom was made heir instead. The God of Darkness made me more powerful to protect my younger sibling who I should have resented, but I never could bring myself to do so and I managed to for a few years protect him. Then Nathanial Peter Quele Royale was born and I was the one to go up to Illander, to Camar’a the land of holy light that had been trying to exterminate my people’s kingdom for nearly two thousand years like some kind of cockroaches. I made the peace agreement; I signed the papers and did the diplomacy that Robert could care less about. Thom and Nathan were married then, arranged marriage at Nathanial’s birth, heir to heir. I continued to be the diplomat, keeping my trap shut and taking the slander and crap the nobles of Camar’a flung at me. Peace I said, like a mantra, it’s for my people’s peace.”
Amaya nodded, leaning forward a bit in her chair as Drefan continued.
“My mother Elizabeth Royale was a mouse and she knew what was happening, but I heard her only fight for me once. Just that once when I was little, I recall the crash of dishes which I think she was flinging at him. Calling him out on how sick he was, I didn’t hear my father’s voice in reply but after only a few minutes of that there was a cracking sound... Like a head meeting stone and silence...”
Amaya shivered and her eyes hardened but again she nodded, hands gripping each other harder.
“I made a friend in Lawrence, a commoner who fought beside me in a bar brawl I ended up getting myself involved in my adolescence. He was beside me through the beginnings of my addiction to alcohol, and then opium. But I lost contact with him because of the opium which led me into Dire Cry, the far north desert wastes. I originally intended to find Drakor, my ancestor, the last Demi-Lich, who I was convinced if I found the soul of, would assist me against my father. But I lost sight of my goals, my focus was gone, I spiralled hard into addiction, trying to rid myself of the pain and the memories. I forgot my purpose, which was protecting Thom who was in my place where Robert could abuse him instead. Those five years were horrid ones, and it took me six weeks of recovery to get away from the addictions and get myself back to my feet. Nathanial was dying, born weak and getting more ill with the years when I was gone and I was told to come home by messenger when all hope was lost. Nathanial was seven when the clerics and wizards gave up on saving him and everybody was more concerned with who would be heir rather than the fact the boy was dying. Nathan had been brought up in a cabin in the Vaen Thyl, neutral forest land. Paranoia of his sickness and frail body were excuses for holing him up in that little shit hole with no one but Thom, me and our parents when they came to see us. I hated Nathanial at first, he had my brother’s love, which was something I had yearned for and seemed to have to fight for with my every breath. He was loved and coddled where I was treated like a leper as though my heritage and the blood in my veins was my choice.”
Drefan shook his head, taking time to gather his thoughts, silence stretching between the two, and fingers slid through his gold hair anxiously. His midnight blues could not keep contact with her jade greens and before he continued he looked off and away.
“I had decided that if Thom and Nathanial had to be married then Nathan would not remain a puppet, ignorant like the people of Cam’ara always have been. Even if he was to die before taking the throne perhaps something good would come of his knowledge. Hell, who knew? Maybe he could teach his bigoted father about my people. Lawrence got married and I never saw him again, the only one to know my secrets. He’s most likely dead now, dying during The Scourge War like more than a third of my Kingdom. I started courting Lord Riq’ua Riviria and trusted him enough to give him my soul for safe keeping, becoming a lich. It was my last ditch attempt at having enough power to deal with my father, but I realized that I could not fight him straight on; I would have to find a craftier way. A few months later I told Riq’ua the truth of everything and he couldn’t believe me...Calling me a liar. I beat him near to death in my rage and betrayal and asked Nanqa for more power, pleading with him to protect his bloodline of which Thom and I are part of. Robert hurt Thom one last time and finally I had had enough. I loosened the pins in the wheel on the carriage they were taking on a voyage into the mountains, and there was no word of their demise. ”
Amaya managed to sit still where she had sat, hands white from the pressure of grasping each other, not saying a word, but her eyes would not leave him. She did not expect him to look her in the eyes, she knew within was a turbulence of emotion, but she gave her rigid attention to all his words no matter how they were effecting her.
“Peter and Linda seized control of Royale; if I had attempted to take control myself I knew there would have been war. They started to re-educate Thom, telling him that what he had known had been a lie, that Nanqa was a terrible dark deity, not the benevolent one we knew. They taught him sin and shame. Nathanial and I got closer in those years, closer than we ever wanted. Both branded monsters for what we were born as, masochists. My jealousy and resentment grew, anger turning into more hate, and I through magical means gave Thom’s friend a deadly illness. And it is that sickness, the one I made that Thom died of. All light left Thom’s eyes at sixteen, his death essentially done by my hands taking my sanity and my heart with him. I fell into the abyss, shattering to pieces with the loss of that last person I had to hold onto, my hopes and my dreams, my purpose for living gone because of me. I was mad, losing myself to the abyss, to purple clouds and broken glass and Nanqa was in my head too, so I suppose a God in the form of a mortal is just as susceptible as a mortal to madness. I caused The Scourge War; we destroyed a civilization, nearly wiped out more than half the world...” I will allow myself to feel guilt, but never will I feel shame. I’m not the one to blame.
Amaya finally surged to her feet and she with long strides was at his side and sat on the bed. Her hand reached out and she grabbed one of his, grasping it instead of her own. Drefan, who had looked back at the sudden change of seating, stared at her and only the sound of the drapes moving could be heard. The sun was nearly gone now and without its natural light there was darkness cloaking the bedchamber.
“What happens when one is ill cannot be blamed on them, your mind was lost and your heart in agony. Who are these to shun you and call you monster for what you never had a choice in?”
Drefan shook his head at her, “Ignorant sheep Amaya, people who are so blinded by the light they will never question what they are told.”
Amaya sighed and earnestly she began, “Barely into my adolescence Alistiel came to me, she told me what the Lady of Suffering wished of me. It was hard, leaving my family, I was the daughter of a noble, and I know now I was spoiled and had everything I could have wanted in things. But I was missing something, there was a place inside of myself empty, and leaving everything behind to become a Divine Courtesan that space inside was slowly filled. It never truly became easy living in self poverty, but my days and nights were filled with grace. I had friends, confidants among the other Courtesans in Tian Di’izu, my home.”
“My people are ancient, knowing of times only thought to be legend in these lands, but we remember, we are taught of the past. Made to be regal, filled with nobility of the Elder race and our favour with He’ar Namin, the Spirit of knowledge, nobility and judgement. It has made us stand tall upon pedestals, and as there are no other sentient beings in the south, there is nothing to shake us from our superior attitudes. I had much to learn when I left the valley.”
Amaya gave a sad smile, her hands clasped in her lap, paler as the blood could not flow easily with her so tense, “...I was not alone when I began the journey here. There was another with me, another Courtesan who was my lover. We had met while training and we were told how beautiful we were together. But the destiny that unfolded for me was a difficult one, and selflessly and lovingly she walked with me. Through the mountains and into the sands of the desert that the people had once traversed through to our valley home, but any who have left, entering it have never returned. Wither they have made it to these lands or died we never knew, and now we, just two young women tried and she pushed herself too hard.
Through the desert she hid from me her hunger pains and weariness until dehydration became clear to me. But between the heat, the lack of food because she put it aside for me and too little water... Mi-Cha died in my arms, and for a time I blamed myself.”
“She made that choice, it was not your fault,” Drefan murmured.
“Perhaps, but again, who can make choices when they are smothered by smoke and the lies of the Abyss?”
Drefan grasped Amaya’s hand back, “This isn’t living, it’s merely existing. I took back my soul but a corpse I still may remain.”
“If you are a corpse, then how can you feel hurt? Or know of pain?”
"I remember the hurt for what it was at the time-that's not a new feeling; it's remembering the hurt of old and perpetuating it. You seem to know what it is to feel, what it is to be whole... teach me. Teach me at least how to cope; I don't know how and it’s pulling me apart."
"How can I...teach you Drefan? You've already written yourself off as worthless. How can someone teach when the other isn't willing to learn?"
Amaya gave a sad soft laugh, her green eyes sparkling with unshed tears," It is not what I wish to teach you. Coping is..." she shook her head, black strands falling before her eyes.
"It's hardly living either."
Drefan closed his eyes, shaking his head, anger and sadness coming through the words, “Then I’m done with hoping, tired of trying just to have it thrown back at me. You should just go, Amaya.” There was weariness to the air, the words worn and the man closed back up inside.
Amaya let out a huff and she shifted on the bed, Drefan’s eyes remaining closed as she unfurled and knelt by Drefan’s side on the bed. Silence had settled between them except for the sounds of her movements.
"'I’m sorry," was the only murmur that escaped a sardonic smile.
"Don't," Amaya whispered that one word imbued with passion, with longing and earnest tender affections. An arm wrapped around his shoulders, a familiar hold of someone dear, though long ago and someone else entirely. The other hand lost itself in his blond shoulder length hair, "It is my choice to hear you, to remain here Drefan. You needn't be sorry."
For anything. Though they both knew that would mean nothing, as it did not come from someone they needed that forgiveness of.
"We both have been sorry for too long."
The guilt was eating them alive, and forgetting how guilty they both really were was impossible, and even more so, to forget was to dishonour the memory of those they had failed. Yet the wounds remained open, the present and future rubbing the past raw and leaving it to blister. They had to yank open the closet door and stare in the eye the demons of failure and self decay. To begin the end of the days gone by and use the strength of the other to heal, otherwise both would fail and be left just as hollow as they had been before this had begun.
"The guilt will never leave, the 'what ifs' will never end if we look to the past and not the future,” Amaya held him close, whispering to his ear with her head against his, feeling the hair against her cheek. There was a truth to every move that Amaya made, no shadow, no hidden meanings or layered words. Actions were more readable, more easily interpreted and better for both. In that moment, the rest of the world was gone and there was simply the woman left, cupping his cheeks and a pair of lips against his own. Drefan couldn’t remember the last time anyone had touched him for such a span of time, let alone like this. The best he had for touch was a brush past in training, or a blow, maybe a holding of his hands that he would shrug off as though it meant nothing, but this was far from that. There was a hand in his hair stroking it like the strands were pure gold and precious when he could hardly call any part of himself near that word. Not after everything he had done.
“I am here for you, for how long I do not know, but I am here for you.” Words breathless against his lips, a thumb caressing his sun drenched skin.
Drefan swallowed and took in a deep breath; it had been so long since he had someone he could depend on. Someone that was not out to take advantage, someone that believed! The rush was a high that made him feel as though he could soar, the knowledge that he could speak upon matters he had been unable to discuss in detail with anyone. The breath rattled through him as though he was empty inside, and his hands grasped her cheeks. Pulling her lips to his to again taste the freedom promised by words unafraid.
“Peace seems so damn impossible.”
Amaya’s eyes shone with wetness, but she nodded as she drew back a little to look into his eyes, “Alone it often is. I told you to tell me, and you told me why you are hated and you told me why you lost your mind. And I can see the scars and grief that has been left upon your heart by the suffering of your past. Now let go, show me your rage and your tears. Allow out what you have kept locked within for the safety of a mind still fragile.”
Drefan’s hands slid down her cheeks and to her shoulders and uncertainty entered the illuminated night sky of his eyes. Amaya smiled, the lips tired but still turned up for him, weary but ever so strong.
“I’ll be alright,” the words left her lips and her smile blossomed, the concern in his eyes earning him another kiss, this one deeper still. Her hands clutching his shoulders, pushing him to her, wanting him to know that she could handle what he would speak.
Oh she knew now, understood why Naik’lea had her traverse the desert and through the Vaen Thyl into unknown lands. Leaving her people and culture behind to never be seen again; this man needed healing, he deserved to rest and be at peace. So here she was, a vessel for her Lady’s will and she would help this soul battered and abused find his place in the world.
Drefan pulled away from the kiss and there was fire inside his eyes, “It was the fact that he should have loved me no matter what, been a good god damn father, but he never was. Now he is only just an illusion, a dream of something invisible, impossible that I had railed against for so long...”
Taking in breaths after the kiss Amaya nodded in understanding of where he was taking this conversation, “It’s worn you out. You never knew a father and you were never known by one. You must see this; realize all of the time, energy and hatred wasted upon what did not deserve to even be acknowledged.”
“Do you expect me to forgive him? Just turn my back like a fucking martyr?”
“No. What does not deserve your love does not deserve your rage. You do not have to love what never loved you. Do not love what was named your father, or your mother. And with no love there does not need to be resentment and fear.”
“...So then what am I supposed to feel? What am I supposed to do now? This baggage is heavy Amaya, it feels as though I’ve slung a body over my shoulder and have been carrying its weight for years...”
“And whose body is it that wears you down?” Amaya’s eyes beseeched his own to see the truth.
“...My own. Like I’m long dead and have just been carrying on seeing nothing or no one, just flagging under all this shit. Gods bedamned, I’m tired of carrying all this weight.”
“Then there is no more pining for what could never have been, no more seeking your own destruction. You can imagine and create the demise of those you hate or you can wish for the betterment of man. Both will happen, negative emotions are all in equal to the positive, and these create energies deep within. But it takes twice the time and effort to destroy that it does to create. The continued bitterness locked within corrodes and keeps the wounds open and bleeding. You are the only one who can make the choice to live now, or die in the past.”
Drefan was silent, furrowed brows and hands clenched on her shoulders, showing his attention and wish for understanding.
“Drefan, forgiveness for some is impossible, and often it must be earned. And here it cannot be. Lay the bones to rest so your baggage is less. The living need to go on living and the dead need to be allowed their rest. No one; especially not they who have been the cause of all this strife, are allowed to make you feel anything but which you wish to feel. Take control of the hatred and anger, for without love there is no rage. With no sadness there is no forgiveness. The opposite of love is not hate; and it is the worst fate. Indifference.”
There was intrigue in his eyes, and Amaya knew he liked what he was hearing.
“Do not live as though you shall die tomorrow, but live as though you can make every minute last an eternity. Merely existing is not living, and looking back at a darkened past with guilt and shame is giving into fear. Fear has helped you achieve beyond what you ever could have dreamed of. But fear has also been a master over you, a double edged sword, cutting you to the bone. It has left you broken and bleeding, it has seen you rise from falls that no other man could say they survived. Fear is masking itself as ego; the abundance or lack thereof.”
Drefan let out a huffing breath and a brow cocked, attempting to hide how close she had come, how much her words rang true. That she could see so easily within, understand him after such a short time was liberating, and terrifying. “So what can be done with fear?”
“You admitted long ago you were powerless, but when you tried to take back that power, to fight and stand on that field is when it all crashed down around you. Addiction, resentment, bitterness and hatred; insanity and recovery which led to you here and now again having to realize that you are powerless to what others do. To see a different ending, you must accept life on life’s terms, and you must deal with your own demons. Terrible things happen and it hurts, but you can change your own life. Pain is a gift, an opportunity to wake and see that you can make things better. You will continue to live in sorrow of who you could have been if you do not grab a hold of who you are. Would you go back to alcohol? To opium?”
“No.” The answer was immediate and his eyes flashed so close to hers, “I’m not willing to go that route again, doing something so harming to numb and kill the pain. It doesn’t work; it just creates even more suffering.”
“And fear. Fear of abandonment, fear of addiction, fear of the loss of your addiction. Nothing is ever easy, and hurting happens when you grow, and once again you are growing, Drefan. What you think is what you live. If your thoughts are dragged into sadness and heartache, anger and bitterness for too long you will become what you envision. This happened, and it cannot happen again. So when you know something is going to hurt you must take that hurt with its growth.”
Amaya’s hands reached up again and she cupped his face, “Drefan, do not believe what others tell you, believe in yourself,” earnest care, a wish for his betterment that Drefan had not heard before. Who had been there to give a damn? Lawrence, Thom and Nathanial, but Nathanial pitied him and for that he hated the younger masochist. But this woman had no pity in her eyes, open to his searching, only filled with honesty. Drefan moved, sliding an arm around her as she laughed and the blond male ended up on his back on his bed, Amaya laying over him. Her hands pressed against his chest as she stared down at him, her eyes wide and surprised at the sudden change in position. Drefan gave her a small smile, a real honest to gods smile. The Courtesan ran her thumb over his lips, savouring the sight that she knew without being told was a rarity.
“You believe in me?” Drefan murmured, his voice a little ragged. Asking the question as he tried to hide her effect on him, the way her words so filled with faith and hope spoke to him.
“I do. I very dearly do, Drefan.”
Happiness shone down at him from those green eyes, and the golden glow returned to illuminate her skin from her inner joy. Drefan brought his fingers up into her hair, pulling out the sticks that held it up and with gravity the thick black tresses fell over her back. She leaned to him so he did not have to sit up at an odd angle from where he lay to kiss her. Lips opened and tongues swirled in dance, two pairs of eyes closing. Hands continued down over cheeks to jaw, and thumbs over throat. Drefan drew down the fabric and there was no indication that she would have him quit his actions. Pulling away for breath, she let the dress slip down over her breasts against his bare chest.
“You do not have to hide them from me,” Amaya sat up and the dress pooled around her hips as she straddled him. On her stomach were the mark of claws, and her side had a cut from a blade. Her bones could be seen through her golden skin a little too easily from the months of travel and little sustenance. She was not, it seemed, as perfect on the outside as he had assumed, and that made her more real to him. Amaya had seen battle; she had seen her own fair share of hardship and pain. Drefan took in a deep breath and he mumbled under his breath in demonic the words to undo the spell that hid all of his own scars. The old rope burns around his neck, the knife marks on his chest and stomach that continued down into pants. His wrists that had the same rope burns as his throat and Amaya took up one of his hands in hers, green eyes staring into his blue as she kissed slowly around, following the marking about his wrist. And when one was done she did the same to the other before leaning to kiss and begin to bathe the harsh mark around his neck with her tongue.
“There is no shame in survival.”
Amaya came up again to look deeply at him and his fingers curled into her hair and pulled her down, a bit roughly but she gave no protest, kissing her hard, almost violently. But she returned the heat inch for inch and he moaned against her, clearly not expecting her reaction. Desperation, a mess of passion and raw nerves, I don't want this to end. It appeared that Drefan had accepted his rather sudden attentive interests in this woman and was going to see the night through. Trusting and opening up to her, and seeing she had done the same in her eyes.
Drefan allowed Amaya to pull back and they both sucked in breaths, his words coming between the need to get oxygen into his lungs, “This...is the first...time I have done this since I was eighteen.” For a moment Drefan laughed, and it was not with a tone of bitterness, it was amused laughter at himself. He was forty seven years old and he had not sex since he was eighteen, and never had he done so with a woman. He had worried earlier about awkwardness, not compared to this, by Nanqa!
“That’s alright,” Amaya shrugged, her head tilting, “I can teach you, or you can learn as you go. Drefan, I have been a Divine Courtesan for over a hundred years now, you do not have to feel any embarrassment.” She shifts against him to make herself more comfortable, “Truthfully, it makes this seem all the more special.” A small smile down to him and Drefan humphs, but reluctantly nods his agreement.
Amaya laughed at his shrugging off of her words and she leaned down to him, pressing nose to nose. “What is it with men and always playing down the seriousness of their emotions? Is that something taught by other men or is that something innately male?”
“Why are you asking me that?”
“Because you’re male!” Amaya came back her eyes glittering vibrant with her amusement and joy, which left Drefan to humph again. Following that up was a rolling of his eyes. Now he had seen another side of the Courtesan, her laughter and her joys.
Amaya leaned down to feather brush his lips, “I will have to leave, to move on. I wish to explore more of the northern lands. But you know I am here for you as long as I can be, and I will come back to Royale, making it part of my pilgrimage.”
“You’re sworn to Naik’Lea and Naik’Lea alone then?”
“Why? Do you suddenly wish to spend eternity with me?” Amaya still looked amused, teasing him gently, “I can take a partner, but that partner must understand I am Naik’lea’s vessel, she sends me where I am needed.”
“Like she sent you to me?”
“Exactly.”
Drefan nodded and his hands slid up her arms, then to her cheeks so he could bring her down to kiss once again, this one less heated, but just as deep, slow and languid. Nanqa please, I want nothing more than this. I was a monster, obsessed with vengeance and justice and had my life shattered for it. Can I have one thing, one love that won’t fade or die?
“I can wait,” Drefan expels breath against her lips, “For nights like this. I’m patient, I will wait.”
Amaya’s eyes grew wet once again, her fingers caressing his cheek, “I still do not and cannot understand how you are hated.”
“Maybe you’re a bit blind too,” Drefan shrugged against the blankets and the girl's smile was teasing, “Well then; I do not mind this particular blindness.”
Pressing her forehead to his, “Then if you will wait, I will come back. I will write letters to you, and tell you where I am headed so I can receive your letters back. I would enjoy knowing I have someone to talk to on the road, even if it is at such a distance. Long journeys get lonely even with the companionship of the night.”
“Then we’ll write,” Drefan ran callused hands over her back, down and then following the same path up her spine, causing her to give a little shiver. She parted her lips as they kissed, and her hands slid over his chest, mimicking him. They would not attempt to forget the pain, the hurt or the guilt, but move on from it. Allowing it to remain in the past where it belonged, savouring the freedom of now where they could find life again. Happiness was a fleeting thing, fickle and easily lost, but there was no chance of keeping it if you did not throw your whole heart in.
Rating: (Blanketed warning of NC-17)
Beta:
ebonrune Content Notes:This is split into two parts because of length. This part is 8,465 words. I am very happy with these pieces. Ayo is yes in Royalian. First Het sex scene. I left Amaya's name in the western style with last name being after the first for simplicity, I realize it would be switched.
Warnings: Mentions of unrequited incest, Yaoi, Yuri and Het. Mentions of Past Sexual, Physical and Physcological Abuse, mentions of past addictions to drugs and alcohol, Sex scene.
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.
--
A return of what was lost.
Drefan decided that when he did the ritual to free his soul from the black diamond and take it back within his body that he would do so alone. He had no wish for Sevuk or Samuel to see him, as the initial outpour of emotions and memories would be overwhelming. A reclaiming of everything he had lost; the good, the bad, the pain and the joy, memory and emotion. He had not had many individuals he would call friends in his forty seven years and with the return of his soul he worried of losing them to weakness. Drefan consequently kept to himself for a few days. King Samuel was a persistent if not stubborn individual however who would not let him be on his own for too long.
Drefan had gained back the living vitality of his body, undoing the horrid aging that the Abyss had caused, finding that he was once again twenty one when he had been forty seven. His previous strength returned to him of when he had trained his body hard in different fighting disciplines to defend himself and his brother. His body and his mind remembered what it meant to be youthful. But sleep evaded him, there was no rest to be found, plagued by nightmares of a past he was remembering now in fullest detail. Drefan once again felt the hate and resentment slice into his heart at every word and touch of the abuse he had suffered for so long. Drefan understood anew why he had walked that dark road, why he had begged his deity to give him more power to protect himself and his sibling and how the abuse and shame cracked and fractured him until the chipping pieces began to fall.
Unable to take the nightmares any longer, on the third night after he had regained his mortality, Drefan whose fortitude was not at its best going without sleep for the first time in over twenty years and feeling the effects on a living body, needed a solution. The clerics together made a deep sleeping draught, something that would put him into a rest he would not rise from for days. It was the best option for now, as he knew his body required the time to come out of the shock of de-aging and suddenly being mortal once again. Then he could deal with the emotional and psychological changes when his body was not going to give out beneath him. Unknown to him while he slept in the royal castle of Tuima Royale, arms hugging his pillow to him as he rested on his stomach Samuel ran clawed fingers through his golden blond hair. The new King of Royale had settled to sit on the side of the bed watching Drefan sleep deeply and finally restfully. Samuel had kinship ties to the other man, his father Taedras was one of the Fallen Arch Angels of Judgement, originally an Arch Angel of Reinn Anon, God of Winds, Light and Angels. But Taedras, who was then known as a different name fell from grace persuaded by Nanqa, God of Darkness and became the Arch Angel of Annihilation. Taedras had been the fore-father of the Royale bloodline, so that made Drefan a very distant relative as Samuel was of Taedras as well.
Drefan did not realize the comfort, as the King had been gone by the time he woke from his slumbers. The initial week passed quickly as Drefan began to experience life as a young man again, but with the long stretch of experience and memories of years to come. After the wave of the initial outpouring, he settled in easier to once again having his soul back and dug into his duties as Earl. He had the laughter and camaraderie of Samuel and Sevuk. True friends, something he had not had since his adolescence. But he found it was not enough, now returned was an ache he had not relished returning; Loneliness.
--
It’s time to move on.
Introductions.
Amaya.
Arms tucked in and ducking, fists flew, and straw stuffing spilled out the sides of the dummy down onto the ground. Stepping back, he spun, striking out with his leg and he blew bangs from his eyes with a puff of breath. The hairs on the back of his neck had risen and his posture had stiffened. There had been someone watching Drefan for nearly ten minutes now, leaning against the wooden fence that surrounded the training area in the castle grounds. His back had been to this stranger, and as he had not been the only one training beneath grey clouds that promised rain. He had hoped if he ignored the attention they would leave, but clearly this wouldn’t be the case. Turning to the stranger at the fence, Drefan pushed golden blonde bangs back with a sweaty hand and a brow rose when he took in the sight of who was watching him.
The woman had clearly been traveling, the tan linen wrap robes that were trimmed sage with bellowing sleeves had dirt and mud in different places. There was a patch of dirt on her cheek, her skin tanned golden by the sun as though she had once been pale but had spent over a year under the harsh rays. Her hair was thick, bone straight black held up in place by small intricately decorated sticks, so some was built up and the rest pooled down along her back. Hands were folded over each other before her as she leaned lightly against the wood railings of the fence. Ears pointed through the mass of black, eyes of jade on Drefan as he turned to acknowledge her presence. She appeared fine boned like most Elves, form hidden by the traditional Hangfu, and although she did not have the aura of Shadow that the Myr’ael, Shadow Elves always had permeating the air about them, he at first took her for a Myr.
Arms crossing his sweat soaked chest Drefan at last addressed her, “And what can I do for an Elven Lady?”
Amaya shook her head, leaning a little more on the fence, “A Lady no more. I gave up my title and all that was attached to my family name centuries ago.”
Drefan’s brow stayed up from initially seeing her, she had been nobility and given everything up? Odd... “...Well then, Madame?”
“You’re much younger than what I expected, if you do not mind me saying so.”
“Younger? So you do know who I am then?” There was an edge to the words, defensive, as he always had to be when speaking to those who had only heard of him but never met him. There were too many rumours and slander, tales of The Scourge War and his past betrayals.
“You were Prince Drefan Robert Royale. I think you’re an Earl now, am I right?”
“Ayo, you're right. What interest do you have in me, stranger?”
“Oh, I apologise.” She straightened from her comfortable position and she bowed at the shoulders, her hands still folded neatly before her, “Amaya Lu.”
Amaya’s head tilted once she had straightened and Drefan had bowed at the waist, arms folded in the Royalian style of bowing. Her accent was lyrical like all those who spoke Sere’th, the Elvish tongue, but there was something else to her voice, a foreign flavour Drefan had never heard before. And the Earl was a well traveled man, it bothered him he could not place her accent, but he listened as she spoke more. “I have found what I have heard of you intriguing; it is true you have recently taken back your soul from lichdom?”
Drefan tensed further and somewhat impatient, feeling increasingly like some animal on display he mutters, “Ayo.”
Picking up skirts of the robes the woman slipped herself over the wooden fence with ease, showing the well worn leather boots beneath. Pushing her black hair away from her green eyes, the woman did not seem to mind the mud the rain had made of the training area.
“I’m making you uncomfortable... Do you know what I am?”
Drefan’s brows furrowed as he looked her up and down twice more, she reminds me of how you were, Nathanial; an aura around her of peace that calms the restless and resentful, and it makes me nervous. Change is in the air and it smells of cinnamon and amber.
“Perhaps I do.”
Amaya’s lips dipped, the smallest smile, not grandiose by any measure but Drefan could tell for the effort that it was honest.
“Alistiel, the Arch Angel of Solace comes to us if we are chosen, some train for countless years only to be turned away. But others with no training at all are spoken to. In my peoples language we are called Divine Courtesans, though in this tongue I have heard us be referred to as Sacred Prostitutes.”
Sacred Prostitutes; who allowed their bodies to be a temple for others. Those who are followers of Naik’Lea, Lady of Suffering, blessed by the Arch Angel Alistiel, Angel of Solace. The blessed vessel of flesh used in prayer, offering a way to bring divinity to the common. A misunderstood life, but deeply appreciated by those who had crossed paths with them before. Giving a way to end the suffering and pain of any and all who asked so they can be whole, if only for one night. Healer of minds, menders of hearts. Living a life of poverty and travel, these men and women did not often say no to any who asked, selfless and devout.
Drefan’s dry humour prevailed, and he sounded amused, even allowing a little grin to show, “A worshipper of Naik’lea searches me out because I am intriguing?” Drefan took a step toward her, as he knew she was only telling half the truth. The amusement a precursor to violence if she did not explain herself, for there was no humour in his midnight blue eyes.
Amaya gave a bow once again, her hands clasping each other, straight to the ground, “In truth I was told to come here, to find you by The Lady Naik’lea. Is it not time you were allowed some healing? Forgiveness was given by others long ago, but you are still wounded, scarred from the battles you fought for yourself, and for those you loved. They rest now, or are at the very least getting the healing they require. So why not you? Do you not deserve peace too?”
“Peace? You cannot know who I am if that is what you assumed. You cannot know what I have done,” eyes darkened toward black and Drefan grit his teeth toward the blue sky, I feel guilt but no shame, a mantra.
“Well then, tell me. Tell me why I should hate you.”
Black as night eyes flashed back to the woman who was taller than he at 6’0 to his 5’10 as she took her steps through the mud. Drefan stood his ground as she stepped up to him, allowing only the decency of a few inches between them both. Jade eyes filled with vibrant light would not leave his black, neither showing any discomfort at the closeness, unwilling to give advantage or show weakness. Amaya stared into the depths of his eyes and she shook her head, not backing down, “Explain to me why I should take what the ignorant tell me as the truth. I have met no one of Cama’ra yet on my travel, and your people, as well as I can understand Royalian, love you. So what then, what then is for me to hate?”
Drefan was taken aback by the bite of her voice, the driven nature of this woman who had an intensity unlike any women he had ever known besides the desert Elven Queen, Nilec Quele. And it was then that he saw it, there was something behind those jade eyes, hidden from the masses but clear as day to those who knew how to look. Beyond the beauty and perfection of the outer flesh, inside; this woman was seething, broken, and worn out.
And at once she reminds me of how you were, Nathanial, in your serenity, but also myself in the jaded nature of her eyes, and Nilec in her pride and regal bearing. And I can even see chips of my brother Thom in those green irises, the strength of perseverance and hope.
“You want to know?”
Amaya nodded resolutely, her eyes never leaving his own and it pushed the blond man, who swore under his breath and shifted fingers restlessly through his hair. Was he going to open up to this woman? Trust her without anything else to go on besides the far off pain in her eyes and the strength of her words? But had he not trusted Lawrence on less, the only friend he had ever had when he was an adolescent? With his soul returned he knew he needed companionship, friendship again, and Sevuk and Samuel were good friends, but there were things they could not hope to understand. But a Sacred Prostitute of Naik’lea could, even for one evening heal his mind, fitting all the fallen and discarded pieces back inside, allowing him to be whole for just enough time to sort through all the mess. He owed it too much to people to not try. He owed it to Thom who would wish him to move on, and to Nathanial, who had after everything Drefan had done to him had forgiven him for all his transgressions.
Hands fisted as Drefan thought on how to answer, on taking a chance, but he noticed that she was silent, her green eyes not leaving his face. Patiently waiting for his reply, she was a woman of silent strength, patient but intense when she needed to be. He could see himself respecting her and because of that he would open himself up to her, “Tonight; you ask a servant where my room is at dusk and come to me there.”
A golden glow enveloped her skin, the hue adding lustre at Amaya’s joy. “I will be there.”
Inclining her head respectfully, she turned her back to him, “Good training My Lord.” And she slipped herself back over the fence; the glow permeated the air around her as she left the male standing in the mud. Drefan had only known two women in his life, the woman who had given birth to him, Queen Elizabeth Royale, a woman too cowed to fight, a woman who had stood up for him once in his youth and never again. And Queen Nilec Quele, a woman driven by destiny, a terrifying and beautiful woman who had more balls than many men, but was unbalanced for the sacrifice. It had been years since he had interactions with either and this left Drefan confused and not prepared to handle any female, let alone one such as Amaya, who one moment with the fury of the sun would not back down from a fight and the next stood silently, patiently waiting for an answer. She was mix of the two women he had known and so much more.
The young man snickered and shook his head, arms uncrossing to put hands on his hips. Drefan’s lips cracked another grin and he started to laugh; men had a difficult enough time normally with women and here he was without almost any experience at all. This was bound to be interesting, and awkward as hell.
---
It’s time to move on.
Heart break and Heart ache.
Amaya.
Amaya traveled light and did not take with her the last of her silks, so she had set to in her room, scrubbing the Hangfu that had been covered in the evidence of her year journey. She had not expected as she knelt on the stone floor of her room in the tan linen under dress for there to be a knock at her door. She answered it, shielding herself with the wood and standing there was a young woman who shifted nervously and held in her hands a dress. It was grey linen with light blue lace edging on the strap, bosom and bottom. Clearly this dress had been made by hand and coin saved frugally to afford the little bit of lace. The young Royalian woman smiled to Amaya and in faltering common explained that word had spread that Drefan, who the people still referred to as prince, was spending time with her this evening. For the occasion she could borrow the dress and Amaya immediately at this bowed deeply, her hands clasped before her in humility and gratitude. The Sacred Prostitute brought the dress to her bosom as though it was made from the finest silks of her homeland and smiled, attempting her own faltering thank you in Royalian. In simple common Amaya promised the dress would be well taken care of and returned on the ‘morrow.
With her hair held up by the sticks that were actually small thin knives for her protection and the borrowed dress, she in bare feet walked the stone halls, thankful for the summer warmth. She found her way slowly with helping directions from a guard to Drefan’s door. The reply to the knock was mumbled but Amaya heard it well enough through the door and she cracked the door open and slipped into the room through the opening. The room was unlit except for the sinking sun, drapes translucent white and shifting with the breeze behind a small table and chairs. Drefan sat on the queen size bed, spread legs over the side, and elbows on his knees. He was wearing brown trousers and leather boots but no top and at first he did not acknowledge her presence. Amaya softly, silently moved around him to take a seat at that little table as Drefan stippled his forehead with his fingers.
“Where do I even begin?”
Amaya’s hands lay on her lap, “Wherever is easiest.”
“Heh, alright.”
Drefan looked to her, taking the time to appreciate what he could see. The dress did not show very much cleavage, but it gave allusion to such and the lace edges ruffled at her shoulders, leaving her arms bare. The linen ended below her knees, showing more of the golden skin tanned long by the sun and her toes curled in against the stone. Was it that she was Naik’Lea’s? An Elf? Drefan did not know why he could appreciate her beauty, the shape of her form where he had not cared enough to do so before with other women. He had thought he could only appreciate aspects of the male body, but perhaps that was not so, for he found her alluring and beautiful, her head lying to the side as he took her appearance in. But at last he shook his head, back to the business at hand and allowed her to look into his eyes, showing her the wall, built up in expectation of her leaving disgusted, or worse, pitying him. It had happened before, and it was experience that made him be ready for the same negative reactions as he began to tell his life story for her.
“My childhood is repetitive; I’ll spare you the details. Just let it be said my ‘father’ Robert Royale was sick son of a bitch. I was ashamed and scared of what was happening to me, what I couldn’t stop, so I didn’t breathe a word to anyone. When my younger brother Thom Anstrev Royale was born, I swore to Nanqa I’d protect him from that bastard. I was the second son, as by Royalian tradition the first child is given back to Lord Nanqa, but even though I was by rights then first son, I was not heir. I was not docile enough, not so easily pushed around and intimidated so then, Thom was made heir instead. The God of Darkness made me more powerful to protect my younger sibling who I should have resented, but I never could bring myself to do so and I managed to for a few years protect him. Then Nathanial Peter Quele Royale was born and I was the one to go up to Illander, to Camar’a the land of holy light that had been trying to exterminate my people’s kingdom for nearly two thousand years like some kind of cockroaches. I made the peace agreement; I signed the papers and did the diplomacy that Robert could care less about. Thom and Nathan were married then, arranged marriage at Nathanial’s birth, heir to heir. I continued to be the diplomat, keeping my trap shut and taking the slander and crap the nobles of Camar’a flung at me. Peace I said, like a mantra, it’s for my people’s peace.”
Amaya nodded, leaning forward a bit in her chair as Drefan continued.
“My mother Elizabeth Royale was a mouse and she knew what was happening, but I heard her only fight for me once. Just that once when I was little, I recall the crash of dishes which I think she was flinging at him. Calling him out on how sick he was, I didn’t hear my father’s voice in reply but after only a few minutes of that there was a cracking sound... Like a head meeting stone and silence...”
Amaya shivered and her eyes hardened but again she nodded, hands gripping each other harder.
“I made a friend in Lawrence, a commoner who fought beside me in a bar brawl I ended up getting myself involved in my adolescence. He was beside me through the beginnings of my addiction to alcohol, and then opium. But I lost contact with him because of the opium which led me into Dire Cry, the far north desert wastes. I originally intended to find Drakor, my ancestor, the last Demi-Lich, who I was convinced if I found the soul of, would assist me against my father. But I lost sight of my goals, my focus was gone, I spiralled hard into addiction, trying to rid myself of the pain and the memories. I forgot my purpose, which was protecting Thom who was in my place where Robert could abuse him instead. Those five years were horrid ones, and it took me six weeks of recovery to get away from the addictions and get myself back to my feet. Nathanial was dying, born weak and getting more ill with the years when I was gone and I was told to come home by messenger when all hope was lost. Nathanial was seven when the clerics and wizards gave up on saving him and everybody was more concerned with who would be heir rather than the fact the boy was dying. Nathan had been brought up in a cabin in the Vaen Thyl, neutral forest land. Paranoia of his sickness and frail body were excuses for holing him up in that little shit hole with no one but Thom, me and our parents when they came to see us. I hated Nathanial at first, he had my brother’s love, which was something I had yearned for and seemed to have to fight for with my every breath. He was loved and coddled where I was treated like a leper as though my heritage and the blood in my veins was my choice.”
Drefan shook his head, taking time to gather his thoughts, silence stretching between the two, and fingers slid through his gold hair anxiously. His midnight blues could not keep contact with her jade greens and before he continued he looked off and away.
“I had decided that if Thom and Nathanial had to be married then Nathan would not remain a puppet, ignorant like the people of Cam’ara always have been. Even if he was to die before taking the throne perhaps something good would come of his knowledge. Hell, who knew? Maybe he could teach his bigoted father about my people. Lawrence got married and I never saw him again, the only one to know my secrets. He’s most likely dead now, dying during The Scourge War like more than a third of my Kingdom. I started courting Lord Riq’ua Riviria and trusted him enough to give him my soul for safe keeping, becoming a lich. It was my last ditch attempt at having enough power to deal with my father, but I realized that I could not fight him straight on; I would have to find a craftier way. A few months later I told Riq’ua the truth of everything and he couldn’t believe me...Calling me a liar. I beat him near to death in my rage and betrayal and asked Nanqa for more power, pleading with him to protect his bloodline of which Thom and I are part of. Robert hurt Thom one last time and finally I had had enough. I loosened the pins in the wheel on the carriage they were taking on a voyage into the mountains, and there was no word of their demise. ”
Amaya managed to sit still where she had sat, hands white from the pressure of grasping each other, not saying a word, but her eyes would not leave him. She did not expect him to look her in the eyes, she knew within was a turbulence of emotion, but she gave her rigid attention to all his words no matter how they were effecting her.
“Peter and Linda seized control of Royale; if I had attempted to take control myself I knew there would have been war. They started to re-educate Thom, telling him that what he had known had been a lie, that Nanqa was a terrible dark deity, not the benevolent one we knew. They taught him sin and shame. Nathanial and I got closer in those years, closer than we ever wanted. Both branded monsters for what we were born as, masochists. My jealousy and resentment grew, anger turning into more hate, and I through magical means gave Thom’s friend a deadly illness. And it is that sickness, the one I made that Thom died of. All light left Thom’s eyes at sixteen, his death essentially done by my hands taking my sanity and my heart with him. I fell into the abyss, shattering to pieces with the loss of that last person I had to hold onto, my hopes and my dreams, my purpose for living gone because of me. I was mad, losing myself to the abyss, to purple clouds and broken glass and Nanqa was in my head too, so I suppose a God in the form of a mortal is just as susceptible as a mortal to madness. I caused The Scourge War; we destroyed a civilization, nearly wiped out more than half the world...” I will allow myself to feel guilt, but never will I feel shame. I’m not the one to blame.
Amaya finally surged to her feet and she with long strides was at his side and sat on the bed. Her hand reached out and she grabbed one of his, grasping it instead of her own. Drefan, who had looked back at the sudden change of seating, stared at her and only the sound of the drapes moving could be heard. The sun was nearly gone now and without its natural light there was darkness cloaking the bedchamber.
“What happens when one is ill cannot be blamed on them, your mind was lost and your heart in agony. Who are these to shun you and call you monster for what you never had a choice in?”
Drefan shook his head at her, “Ignorant sheep Amaya, people who are so blinded by the light they will never question what they are told.”
Amaya sighed and earnestly she began, “Barely into my adolescence Alistiel came to me, she told me what the Lady of Suffering wished of me. It was hard, leaving my family, I was the daughter of a noble, and I know now I was spoiled and had everything I could have wanted in things. But I was missing something, there was a place inside of myself empty, and leaving everything behind to become a Divine Courtesan that space inside was slowly filled. It never truly became easy living in self poverty, but my days and nights were filled with grace. I had friends, confidants among the other Courtesans in Tian Di’izu, my home.”
“My people are ancient, knowing of times only thought to be legend in these lands, but we remember, we are taught of the past. Made to be regal, filled with nobility of the Elder race and our favour with He’ar Namin, the Spirit of knowledge, nobility and judgement. It has made us stand tall upon pedestals, and as there are no other sentient beings in the south, there is nothing to shake us from our superior attitudes. I had much to learn when I left the valley.”
Amaya gave a sad smile, her hands clasped in her lap, paler as the blood could not flow easily with her so tense, “...I was not alone when I began the journey here. There was another with me, another Courtesan who was my lover. We had met while training and we were told how beautiful we were together. But the destiny that unfolded for me was a difficult one, and selflessly and lovingly she walked with me. Through the mountains and into the sands of the desert that the people had once traversed through to our valley home, but any who have left, entering it have never returned. Wither they have made it to these lands or died we never knew, and now we, just two young women tried and she pushed herself too hard.
Through the desert she hid from me her hunger pains and weariness until dehydration became clear to me. But between the heat, the lack of food because she put it aside for me and too little water... Mi-Cha died in my arms, and for a time I blamed myself.”
“She made that choice, it was not your fault,” Drefan murmured.
“Perhaps, but again, who can make choices when they are smothered by smoke and the lies of the Abyss?”
Drefan grasped Amaya’s hand back, “This isn’t living, it’s merely existing. I took back my soul but a corpse I still may remain.”
“If you are a corpse, then how can you feel hurt? Or know of pain?”
"I remember the hurt for what it was at the time-that's not a new feeling; it's remembering the hurt of old and perpetuating it. You seem to know what it is to feel, what it is to be whole... teach me. Teach me at least how to cope; I don't know how and it’s pulling me apart."
"How can I...teach you Drefan? You've already written yourself off as worthless. How can someone teach when the other isn't willing to learn?"
Amaya gave a sad soft laugh, her green eyes sparkling with unshed tears," It is not what I wish to teach you. Coping is..." she shook her head, black strands falling before her eyes.
"It's hardly living either."
Drefan closed his eyes, shaking his head, anger and sadness coming through the words, “Then I’m done with hoping, tired of trying just to have it thrown back at me. You should just go, Amaya.” There was weariness to the air, the words worn and the man closed back up inside.
Amaya let out a huff and she shifted on the bed, Drefan’s eyes remaining closed as she unfurled and knelt by Drefan’s side on the bed. Silence had settled between them except for the sounds of her movements.
"'I’m sorry," was the only murmur that escaped a sardonic smile.
"Don't," Amaya whispered that one word imbued with passion, with longing and earnest tender affections. An arm wrapped around his shoulders, a familiar hold of someone dear, though long ago and someone else entirely. The other hand lost itself in his blond shoulder length hair, "It is my choice to hear you, to remain here Drefan. You needn't be sorry."
For anything. Though they both knew that would mean nothing, as it did not come from someone they needed that forgiveness of.
"We both have been sorry for too long."
The guilt was eating them alive, and forgetting how guilty they both really were was impossible, and even more so, to forget was to dishonour the memory of those they had failed. Yet the wounds remained open, the present and future rubbing the past raw and leaving it to blister. They had to yank open the closet door and stare in the eye the demons of failure and self decay. To begin the end of the days gone by and use the strength of the other to heal, otherwise both would fail and be left just as hollow as they had been before this had begun.
"The guilt will never leave, the 'what ifs' will never end if we look to the past and not the future,” Amaya held him close, whispering to his ear with her head against his, feeling the hair against her cheek. There was a truth to every move that Amaya made, no shadow, no hidden meanings or layered words. Actions were more readable, more easily interpreted and better for both. In that moment, the rest of the world was gone and there was simply the woman left, cupping his cheeks and a pair of lips against his own. Drefan couldn’t remember the last time anyone had touched him for such a span of time, let alone like this. The best he had for touch was a brush past in training, or a blow, maybe a holding of his hands that he would shrug off as though it meant nothing, but this was far from that. There was a hand in his hair stroking it like the strands were pure gold and precious when he could hardly call any part of himself near that word. Not after everything he had done.
“I am here for you, for how long I do not know, but I am here for you.” Words breathless against his lips, a thumb caressing his sun drenched skin.
Drefan swallowed and took in a deep breath; it had been so long since he had someone he could depend on. Someone that was not out to take advantage, someone that believed! The rush was a high that made him feel as though he could soar, the knowledge that he could speak upon matters he had been unable to discuss in detail with anyone. The breath rattled through him as though he was empty inside, and his hands grasped her cheeks. Pulling her lips to his to again taste the freedom promised by words unafraid.
“Peace seems so damn impossible.”
Amaya’s eyes shone with wetness, but she nodded as she drew back a little to look into his eyes, “Alone it often is. I told you to tell me, and you told me why you are hated and you told me why you lost your mind. And I can see the scars and grief that has been left upon your heart by the suffering of your past. Now let go, show me your rage and your tears. Allow out what you have kept locked within for the safety of a mind still fragile.”
Drefan’s hands slid down her cheeks and to her shoulders and uncertainty entered the illuminated night sky of his eyes. Amaya smiled, the lips tired but still turned up for him, weary but ever so strong.
“I’ll be alright,” the words left her lips and her smile blossomed, the concern in his eyes earning him another kiss, this one deeper still. Her hands clutching his shoulders, pushing him to her, wanting him to know that she could handle what he would speak.
Oh she knew now, understood why Naik’lea had her traverse the desert and through the Vaen Thyl into unknown lands. Leaving her people and culture behind to never be seen again; this man needed healing, he deserved to rest and be at peace. So here she was, a vessel for her Lady’s will and she would help this soul battered and abused find his place in the world.
Drefan pulled away from the kiss and there was fire inside his eyes, “It was the fact that he should have loved me no matter what, been a good god damn father, but he never was. Now he is only just an illusion, a dream of something invisible, impossible that I had railed against for so long...”
Taking in breaths after the kiss Amaya nodded in understanding of where he was taking this conversation, “It’s worn you out. You never knew a father and you were never known by one. You must see this; realize all of the time, energy and hatred wasted upon what did not deserve to even be acknowledged.”
“Do you expect me to forgive him? Just turn my back like a fucking martyr?”
“No. What does not deserve your love does not deserve your rage. You do not have to love what never loved you. Do not love what was named your father, or your mother. And with no love there does not need to be resentment and fear.”
“...So then what am I supposed to feel? What am I supposed to do now? This baggage is heavy Amaya, it feels as though I’ve slung a body over my shoulder and have been carrying its weight for years...”
“And whose body is it that wears you down?” Amaya’s eyes beseeched his own to see the truth.
“...My own. Like I’m long dead and have just been carrying on seeing nothing or no one, just flagging under all this shit. Gods bedamned, I’m tired of carrying all this weight.”
“Then there is no more pining for what could never have been, no more seeking your own destruction. You can imagine and create the demise of those you hate or you can wish for the betterment of man. Both will happen, negative emotions are all in equal to the positive, and these create energies deep within. But it takes twice the time and effort to destroy that it does to create. The continued bitterness locked within corrodes and keeps the wounds open and bleeding. You are the only one who can make the choice to live now, or die in the past.”
Drefan was silent, furrowed brows and hands clenched on her shoulders, showing his attention and wish for understanding.
“Drefan, forgiveness for some is impossible, and often it must be earned. And here it cannot be. Lay the bones to rest so your baggage is less. The living need to go on living and the dead need to be allowed their rest. No one; especially not they who have been the cause of all this strife, are allowed to make you feel anything but which you wish to feel. Take control of the hatred and anger, for without love there is no rage. With no sadness there is no forgiveness. The opposite of love is not hate; and it is the worst fate. Indifference.”
There was intrigue in his eyes, and Amaya knew he liked what he was hearing.
“Do not live as though you shall die tomorrow, but live as though you can make every minute last an eternity. Merely existing is not living, and looking back at a darkened past with guilt and shame is giving into fear. Fear has helped you achieve beyond what you ever could have dreamed of. But fear has also been a master over you, a double edged sword, cutting you to the bone. It has left you broken and bleeding, it has seen you rise from falls that no other man could say they survived. Fear is masking itself as ego; the abundance or lack thereof.”
Drefan let out a huffing breath and a brow cocked, attempting to hide how close she had come, how much her words rang true. That she could see so easily within, understand him after such a short time was liberating, and terrifying. “So what can be done with fear?”
“You admitted long ago you were powerless, but when you tried to take back that power, to fight and stand on that field is when it all crashed down around you. Addiction, resentment, bitterness and hatred; insanity and recovery which led to you here and now again having to realize that you are powerless to what others do. To see a different ending, you must accept life on life’s terms, and you must deal with your own demons. Terrible things happen and it hurts, but you can change your own life. Pain is a gift, an opportunity to wake and see that you can make things better. You will continue to live in sorrow of who you could have been if you do not grab a hold of who you are. Would you go back to alcohol? To opium?”
“No.” The answer was immediate and his eyes flashed so close to hers, “I’m not willing to go that route again, doing something so harming to numb and kill the pain. It doesn’t work; it just creates even more suffering.”
“And fear. Fear of abandonment, fear of addiction, fear of the loss of your addiction. Nothing is ever easy, and hurting happens when you grow, and once again you are growing, Drefan. What you think is what you live. If your thoughts are dragged into sadness and heartache, anger and bitterness for too long you will become what you envision. This happened, and it cannot happen again. So when you know something is going to hurt you must take that hurt with its growth.”
Amaya’s hands reached up again and she cupped his face, “Drefan, do not believe what others tell you, believe in yourself,” earnest care, a wish for his betterment that Drefan had not heard before. Who had been there to give a damn? Lawrence, Thom and Nathanial, but Nathanial pitied him and for that he hated the younger masochist. But this woman had no pity in her eyes, open to his searching, only filled with honesty. Drefan moved, sliding an arm around her as she laughed and the blond male ended up on his back on his bed, Amaya laying over him. Her hands pressed against his chest as she stared down at him, her eyes wide and surprised at the sudden change in position. Drefan gave her a small smile, a real honest to gods smile. The Courtesan ran her thumb over his lips, savouring the sight that she knew without being told was a rarity.
“You believe in me?” Drefan murmured, his voice a little ragged. Asking the question as he tried to hide her effect on him, the way her words so filled with faith and hope spoke to him.
“I do. I very dearly do, Drefan.”
Happiness shone down at him from those green eyes, and the golden glow returned to illuminate her skin from her inner joy. Drefan brought his fingers up into her hair, pulling out the sticks that held it up and with gravity the thick black tresses fell over her back. She leaned to him so he did not have to sit up at an odd angle from where he lay to kiss her. Lips opened and tongues swirled in dance, two pairs of eyes closing. Hands continued down over cheeks to jaw, and thumbs over throat. Drefan drew down the fabric and there was no indication that she would have him quit his actions. Pulling away for breath, she let the dress slip down over her breasts against his bare chest.
“You do not have to hide them from me,” Amaya sat up and the dress pooled around her hips as she straddled him. On her stomach were the mark of claws, and her side had a cut from a blade. Her bones could be seen through her golden skin a little too easily from the months of travel and little sustenance. She was not, it seemed, as perfect on the outside as he had assumed, and that made her more real to him. Amaya had seen battle; she had seen her own fair share of hardship and pain. Drefan took in a deep breath and he mumbled under his breath in demonic the words to undo the spell that hid all of his own scars. The old rope burns around his neck, the knife marks on his chest and stomach that continued down into pants. His wrists that had the same rope burns as his throat and Amaya took up one of his hands in hers, green eyes staring into his blue as she kissed slowly around, following the marking about his wrist. And when one was done she did the same to the other before leaning to kiss and begin to bathe the harsh mark around his neck with her tongue.
“There is no shame in survival.”
Amaya came up again to look deeply at him and his fingers curled into her hair and pulled her down, a bit roughly but she gave no protest, kissing her hard, almost violently. But she returned the heat inch for inch and he moaned against her, clearly not expecting her reaction. Desperation, a mess of passion and raw nerves, I don't want this to end. It appeared that Drefan had accepted his rather sudden attentive interests in this woman and was going to see the night through. Trusting and opening up to her, and seeing she had done the same in her eyes.
Drefan allowed Amaya to pull back and they both sucked in breaths, his words coming between the need to get oxygen into his lungs, “This...is the first...time I have done this since I was eighteen.” For a moment Drefan laughed, and it was not with a tone of bitterness, it was amused laughter at himself. He was forty seven years old and he had not sex since he was eighteen, and never had he done so with a woman. He had worried earlier about awkwardness, not compared to this, by Nanqa!
“That’s alright,” Amaya shrugged, her head tilting, “I can teach you, or you can learn as you go. Drefan, I have been a Divine Courtesan for over a hundred years now, you do not have to feel any embarrassment.” She shifts against him to make herself more comfortable, “Truthfully, it makes this seem all the more special.” A small smile down to him and Drefan humphs, but reluctantly nods his agreement.
Amaya laughed at his shrugging off of her words and she leaned down to him, pressing nose to nose. “What is it with men and always playing down the seriousness of their emotions? Is that something taught by other men or is that something innately male?”
“Why are you asking me that?”
“Because you’re male!” Amaya came back her eyes glittering vibrant with her amusement and joy, which left Drefan to humph again. Following that up was a rolling of his eyes. Now he had seen another side of the Courtesan, her laughter and her joys.
Amaya leaned down to feather brush his lips, “I will have to leave, to move on. I wish to explore more of the northern lands. But you know I am here for you as long as I can be, and I will come back to Royale, making it part of my pilgrimage.”
“You’re sworn to Naik’Lea and Naik’Lea alone then?”
“Why? Do you suddenly wish to spend eternity with me?” Amaya still looked amused, teasing him gently, “I can take a partner, but that partner must understand I am Naik’lea’s vessel, she sends me where I am needed.”
“Like she sent you to me?”
“Exactly.”
Drefan nodded and his hands slid up her arms, then to her cheeks so he could bring her down to kiss once again, this one less heated, but just as deep, slow and languid. Nanqa please, I want nothing more than this. I was a monster, obsessed with vengeance and justice and had my life shattered for it. Can I have one thing, one love that won’t fade or die?
“I can wait,” Drefan expels breath against her lips, “For nights like this. I’m patient, I will wait.”
Amaya’s eyes grew wet once again, her fingers caressing his cheek, “I still do not and cannot understand how you are hated.”
“Maybe you’re a bit blind too,” Drefan shrugged against the blankets and the girl's smile was teasing, “Well then; I do not mind this particular blindness.”
Pressing her forehead to his, “Then if you will wait, I will come back. I will write letters to you, and tell you where I am headed so I can receive your letters back. I would enjoy knowing I have someone to talk to on the road, even if it is at such a distance. Long journeys get lonely even with the companionship of the night.”
“Then we’ll write,” Drefan ran callused hands over her back, down and then following the same path up her spine, causing her to give a little shiver. She parted her lips as they kissed, and her hands slid over his chest, mimicking him. They would not attempt to forget the pain, the hurt or the guilt, but move on from it. Allowing it to remain in the past where it belonged, savouring the freedom of now where they could find life again. Happiness was a fleeting thing, fickle and easily lost, but there was no chance of keeping it if you did not throw your whole heart in.
