Lustre

It had not been a conscious decision to place Narsus in jeopardy by making our destination so obvious. I am sure it had not been. But I suppose I must have wanted to force him to join us, unconsciously; after all, there was another, less obvious though somewhat longer, route we could have taken to his home…
       I'd almost managed to forget his beauty in the years since we'd last met. To see him standing in the shadow of the doorway, silhouetted against the mellow light from within - my breath caught in my throat. Memories, feelings I'd tried to push from me resurfaced. Along with pain.

But I had no time to dwell on the past: present danger must be our concern right now.

Narsus' manner was cool, hardly welcoming, though courteous enough, I suppose. The prince was his charming self, of course, and I could see Narsus warming to him, although he fought it. To me he was curt, his beautiful cultured voice underscored with a bitterness that cut me more surely than his words.
       He blamed the wine for his mood, his behaviour. It was a useful excuse - but he was, plainly, not drunk, his movements as graceful, as fluid as ever. Lord Narsus, my enigma, my weakness, my dream. My love.

I remember the first time I saw him, the youngest man to ever achieve his rank. The King's strategist, a master of the art of intrigue, politics, diplomacy. A man of many talents, many layers, many masks.
       And so beautiful he took my breath away.
       We'd been introduced - soldier to nobleman - at a formal reception. As I bowed over his cool, elegant hand I had to stifle the urge to kiss it; as I rose again I was sure I saw a flash of - something, something more than politeness - in those wide, dark jade eyes. He inclined his head with a small smile and accompanied his master, walking beside and slightly behind the king, the afternoon sunlight gleaming red on a long, heavy fall of hair the colour of polished wood, and from that moment on he held a fascination for me.
       Not that we were to see each other very often: my place was on the battlefield, his beside his king. But I heard a lot about him, about his genius, his expertise with the sword - though not a warrior he nevertheless fought with great skill and courage - his learning. His art…
       I remembered his art. It was - strange. Not what I would consider art. He used soft, natural pastel colours, fluid lines, realistic figures. It was subtle - too subtle for a man like me, used to bold colour and the forms of battle. I didn't like it, and said as much. It got back to him, and I like to think it piqued his curiosity a little - after all, he must surely be used to flattery and adulation: the court was full of sycophants. At any rate, the next time I was at court he sought me out.
       "Daryun, isn't it?"
       He'd approached silently as I was watching the activity in the courtyard, and at that time I wasn't yet familiar with the slightly spicy fragrance he used, a mix of musk-rose and ginger I think. I recognised his voice though, and very nearly knocked my chair over as I scrambled to my feet. Swallowing hard, I bowed, feeling my face redden and hoping he wouldn't notice.
       "My lord."
       A long-fingered hand gestured gracefully.
       "Please, be seated."
       As we both sat, he turned to the servant hovering nearby and requested a bottle of wine and two glasses, giving me time to regain my composure, then returned his attention to me. And smiled. And I lost my composure all over again.
       I closed my eyes briefly and drew a deep breath. Gods' damn it! What am I, some simpering girl, calf-eyed and moonfaced over her lover? When I opened them again Narsus was still smiling, almost mischievously now, his head slightly inclined as he peered at me through the strands of soft hair that fell over his forehead and lightly kissed his face. I schooled my own features to a sobriety more befitting a soldier.
       "I trust you will join me in a glass?" His tone was gently teasing. "Of wine, I mean."
       "I would be honoured, my lord."
       The next hour passed in a daze for me. I remember him making small-talk to start with, chatting easily - and knowledgeably - about the state of the country, life at court, army life… He seemed to know so much about so many things, but did not speak in a patronising way, and welcomed my comments as to possible improvements to the Parsian forces, promising to discuss them with the king the next time he was called to council. And then, slowly, subtly, he brought the subject around to art.
       His views were very decided, but so were mine, although I knew he was laughing gently at my ignorance of the creative arts. Failing to convince me to reconsider my views, he sighed, tugging at the gold pendant drop hanging from his right ear (a gesture I was later to come to realise indicated a touch of nervousness on his part, though gods alone know what he had to be nervous of right then!)
       "I see I must resign myself to your everlasting dislike of my artistic works."
       I inclined my head, suddenly aware of the servant hovering somewhat anxiously at a slight distance, his eyes fixed on Narsus.
       "I'm afraid so, my lord. And I believe you are wanted elsewhere."
       He glanced over his shoulder, then turned back to me.
       "Alas, it is indeed so." He gazed at me for a moment, then laid his hand very lightly over mine.
       "Thank you, Daryun. It has been a delight to speak with an honest man."
       My hand burning from his touch, I swallowed.
       "I've enjoyed our conversation, my lord. And the wine."
       He laughed at that, and lifted his hand. Rising gracefully to his feet he inclined his head.
       "Then please, finish the bottle. And perhaps we might discourse again, when our duties permit."
       I stood and bowed.
       "I would like that, my lord."

The next time we met it was under very different circumstances.

The storm had raged for hours, a howling fury, the rain turning the ground to slippery mud a hand-span deep - and the wind wrenched off the door to the stables. I gathered together a handful of the sturdiest of my men and between us we managed to cobble together a temporary barrier, then, struggling back to barracks through the storm, I caught a flicker of movement from the corner of my eye…
       The light was failing, and the lane was narrow - affording a little respite from the tempest - and did not leave much room for swordplay. Nevertheless he'd managed to despatch two of his assailants before the other three had overpowered him.
       They'd cut away his surcoat and tunic, being none too careful: blood streamed thinly down his tawny pale skin, washed away by the rain. Two stood behind him, one of them gripping his wrists behind his back, the other kneeling in the mud to hold his ankles. The third had one hand fisted in long sodden hair, dragging the head back, his mouth, his teeth, bruising soft lips in a vicious kiss, while the other hand groped roughly at his captive's groin.
       His captive. Narsus. Struggling even as they laughed and forced him down onto his knees. The one standing before my lord bared the front of his body, gripping Narsus' chin and forcing open his mouth…
       I moved without thinking. Moments later all three attackers were dead and Lord Narsus was leaning heavily against me, shaking with shock and the bitter cold. I wrapped my cloak around him - it was too wet to be much protection from the elements but at least it would hide him from the gaze of the curious…

"Thank you."
       He was still shivering, although I'd enveloped him in a thick blanket and ensconced him as close as I dared to the fire in my quarters - time enough later to look to his wounds, for now he needed warmth and time to recover.
       I lay a hand on his shoulder.
       "Simply doing my duty, my lord."
       He looked at me over his shoulder, eyes huge and wounded, his expression somehow defenceless - far different from his usual composed and self-contained air.
       "If you hadn't… They were going to…"
       I squeezed his shoulder, wanting to wrap my arms around him but not daring. He was distraught enough from the encounter: having me touch him after he'd narrowly avoided being violated would hardly be wise.
       "I'll get you something to drink, my lord."
       But his hand descended swiftly on mine, holding it firmly against his shoulder, and I felt him start to shake again, his eyes brimming.
       "Daryun… please…"
       Awkwardly I sat beside him, and awkwardly pulled him into my arms as he wept, silently, his body trembling. Wanting nothing more than to hold him to me for always, protect him, keep him safe.
       After a few minutes he took a deep, shuddering breath and swallowed hard, pushing himself back a little and gazing into my face.
       "Thank you, Daryun."
       I tried to smile.
       "My duty, my lord."
       He leaned his head on my shoulder, his voice muffled against my skin.
       "This was over and above the call of duty, Daryun. Please accept my thanks."
       Without thinking I stroked his hair, still wet from the storm, and he sighed and relaxed against me, still trembling but now forcing himself to recover. I brushed a kiss over his hair, not thinking to wonder why until long afterwards…
       "You are most welcome, my lord."
       Almost reluctantly he dragged himself upright, wincing as the action reopened the knife wounds across his ribs and stomach. I frowned, my hands on his shoulders holding him still.
       "Let me call for a healer for you, my lord."
       He shook his head.
       "There is no need, Daryun. They are merely scratches."
       "But, my lord…"
       He raised his head and gazed at me, the firelight gilding his skin and burnishing his hair with bright copper. And in that moment I knew I loved him.
       "Might I ask that you escort me back to my rooms, Daryun? I don't quite feel safe walking alone, tonight."
       I smiled.
       "I will do anything you ask of me, my lord."
       He chuckled.
       "Then I ask that you call me Narsus. 'My lord' is most inappropriate a usage for the man who preserved my… virtue."

I had expected opulence, but his rooms were surprisingly devoid of extravagance, the decorations sparse, simple, in subtle shades of green and pale gold. As I ushered him into the outer chamber he turned to me.
       "I thank you, Daryun, it was most kind of you to see to my safety. But I must not keep you from your duties."
       I bowed.
       "My first duty is to my king - and I would be remiss if through inaction I allowed harm to come to his most trusted advisor. I will remain here on guard tonight."
       "It is not necessary…"
       "It is, my lord."
       He gazed at me for a moment, and I believe if he'd been feeling more himself he would have argued. But the stress of the attack and his narrow escape had weakened his resolve, his self-assurance, and he sighed and nodded.
       "Very well. Please, make yourself comfortable."

He'd made his way wearily through to his bedchamber, leaving me in the outer room: it did not pass my notice that he left the connecting door slightly ajar. For several hours all was quiet, then I became aware of a sound - a muted, distressed whimpering. Sword in hand I moved silently towards the door to look in on him, only to race into the chamber as a hoarse cry rang out.
       "My lord?"
       He was sitting upright, lips parted, eyes wide and frightened. I knelt at the bedside, distantly noting he slept naked, and gently caught his wrist. Slowly awareness returned to his gaze.
       "Daryun?"
       He began to shake again, and I forced myself not to pull him to me.
       "I'm here my lord. Are you well?"
       He ran a trembling hand across his forehead, then closed his eyes with a sigh.
       "A dream. Just a bad dream."
       "Wine, my lord? To help you sleep?"
       He shook his head.
       "Thank you, but no." He hesitated, then glanced quickly up at me. "Would you… would you stay?"
       I gestured around the room.
       "In here, my lord?"
       "Yes. I feel I would sleep more quietly, knowing you are here."
       I nodded. To have the chance to watch over him? How could I not?
       "Of course, my lord."
       His small smile was relieved, and he settled himself back under the covers with a sigh. Within minutes he was asleep.
       And I drank in the sight of him as he slept, every so often risking a gentle touch to his hair, relishing the raw silk texture. Never has a night seemed so fleeting.

Strengthening sunlight changed the colour of his hair from moment to moment, lightening it from deepest brown to a fiery copper as I watched. A shaft of light fell across his face, contouring a high cheekbone and brushing across long black lashes. He stirred and sighed, and rolled languidly onto his back, stretching as his eyes blinked lazily open - then freezing momentarily as he caught sight of me. I rose from the stool on which I'd spent the night and bowed.
       "Good morning, my lord."
       He pulled himself partly upright, resting on one elbow, his smile sweet and open.
       "Daryun. My thanks. I slept particularly well."
       "I'm glad I could be of service, my lord."
       "Daryun… 'Narsus', please."
       I smiled.
       "Narsus."
       "And now," he said, making to throw back the covers, "I must bathe…"
       But that was too much for me. I bowed hastily, moving backwards towards the door to the outer room.
       "And I must return to duty. Good health to you, my lord."
       I caught a glimpse of his face, wincing at his mildly perplexed expression, as I exited the chamber, and ignored his questioning "Daryun?" as I fled from his rooms.

I did not see him for a while. I even managed to almost convince myself that my feelings for him were the product of too long without a tumble on my part, and set about trying to rectify the situation with a couple of the prettier serving wenches at one of the hostelries I frequented.
       But to no avail. Oh, they were satisfied well enough - their persistent attempts to repeat the encounter were proof of that - but I did not want them. Even as I rode them I knew who I did want.
       But I had no knowledge of his preferences. There had been rumours, of course - there always are, spurned hopefuls, those jealous of power or influence, or beauty, or simply jealous. But nothing trustworthy, nothing that could be proved. He had kept himself aloof, disarming his critics with a charming smile and a witticism, deflecting the advances of men and women alike, pleading his devotion to his work and his king…
       What to do? Plan a campaign? Wait to see what befalls? Or simply try to forget?

While I hesitated, he took the choice from me.

But it was done with his customary subtlety - so much so that our meetings seemed no more than chance or happy accident. I would ride out into the woods, only to find him there before me, exercising his horse: what more natural than that we should ride together - especially since he still disdained a personal guard. I would go to bathe: he would be there. I'd visit a tavern: he'd be passing and join me for a glass and idle chat. Over the course of two months we met no less than fifteen times. Thinking back on it, he must have gone to considerable trouble to have my movements tracked so he could 'surprise' me so!
       But perhaps our greatest pleasure lay in chess. He'd mentioned in passing that he had no-one with whom to play, then his eyes brightened as he smiled and asked if I knew the game. My heart dropped as I was forced to answer no - but he inclined his head, gazing at me appraisingly, and tentatively offered to teach me…
       I was a bad pupil, to start with - until he suggested I see the game as a military campaign and use my battle-skills on the board instead of the field. The suggestion was a revelation to me, and it wasn't long before I proved a real challenge to him. And the day I first beat him he laid his checkmated king flat, beamed at me with sparkling eyes - and hugged me tightly.
       For a second I froze, then wrapped my arms around him and held him close, eyes closed and breathing in the perfume of his hair.
       "Narsus…"
       He relaxed against me with a sigh, then gazed at me from under long lashes.
       "Daryun, I submit. You have conquered me."
       For a moment I dared to hope… But of course he was talking about the game.
       Wasn't he?
       "…My lord…"
       I jumped like a guilty brat caught stealing figs. Narsus reluctantly moved from my embrace and turned to face the servant, whose bright red face and averted eyes made it plain he'd rather be anywhere else but here.
       "My humble apologies, my lord… His majesty requires your presence."
       Narsus sighed, his shoulders slumping somewhat, and nodded.
       "I will be there directly."
       He turned back to me as the servant hastened away, a touch of melancholy in his lovely eyes.
       "Daryun, forgive me. I cannot ignore such a summons."
       I bowed my head.
       "Of course, my lord."
       He laid his hand on my forearm, and I fought back a shiver.
       "May we play again soon?"
       Oh, the images his words conjured! I swallowed and tried to control myself.
       "It would be my pleasure, Narsus."
       Gentle fingers brushed strands of hair back from my face, and for a moment I couldn't breathe.
       "I think I would take the greater pleasure…" He sighed. "I am sorry. I must go."
       I rose and bowed and ushered him from the chamber, my heart light in my breast.

But it was three weeks before we were to meet again, and in that time the world had changed…
       He came to my quarters that night, angry, his eyes flashing, his steps slightly unsteady. I took his arm and guided him to the table, retrieving the half-empty wine bottle before he could drop it, then sitting beside him as he rested his arms on the wood and glared at the low fire.
       "My lord? What troubles you?"
       His mouth tightened, and for a moment I thought he would round on me, but he sighed gustily and swivelled to face me.
       "The king has been listening to Karlan."
       I nodded hesitantly. I knew Karlan, and did not trust him. But - all notions of status aside - why should his majesty's attentions to Karlan anger Narsus?
       My lord grabbed a glass and slopped wine into it, draining the goblet in one draught, then glowered at me.
       "The good Karlan, it appears, argues that slavery is a good thing for the realm. That slaves should replace servants, being as they are in plentiful supply, and without recourse to law, or treatment for injury, or rights of any kind. And hence will save the lessening of the royal coffers."
       I stirred uncomfortably. I had never really considered the matter, but the thought of slavery - that those unfortunates could be wrest from loved ones and home and made to labour for no more than their food and (if they were lucky) a place to sleep - made me uneasy. I knew that Narsus found the notion abhorrent - far more than might have been expected of a nobleman.
       It occurred to me I knew nothing about his past.
       But he was speaking again, graceful hands waving carelessly as he poured himself another glass of wine, and another…
       And I not knowing whether - or how - to stop him.
       But as he emptied the last of the bottle into his glass, he turned to me, swaying slightly, and gripped my shoulder with surprising strength.
       "I'm sorry, Daryun. I shouldn't burden you with this. You have every right to demand that I leave, now."
       As if that were possible! I smiled.
       "Narsus, you're angry and you've had too much wine. I can understand both." I swallowed. "If you want to return to your rooms, I'll escort you. If you want to stay here, I'll make a couch for myself on the floor. If you want to talk - I will listen."
       He blinked and ran a finger down my cheek and across my lips. It took all the control I had not to take it into my mouth. I shook with the effort of not pulling him to me.
       "You are my good friend, Daryun. The only honest man I know." He paused for a moment, then smiled, a touch bitterly.
       "Slavery… What is it like, to belong utterly to another?"
       Oh, I could tell him. I could tell him of the sleepless aching nights, when one's only desire was to hold the object of one's love, pleasure him, hold him to one's heart forever. But that wasn't what he meant.
       And I wasn't sure if he was drunk enough for me to speak out with impunity. My lord could be devious when required.
       "It can be painful, my lord."
       He glanced at me, his glazed eyes suddenly taking on an unwonted sharpness.
       "You know of this?"
       I sighed and nodded.
       "I do, my lord."
       "Then I want you to teach me."
       What…?
       "How so, my lord?"
       Beautiful dark jade eyes gazed at me, and in that moment I saw past the cultured, sophisticated, self-assured man to a child hidden deep within. Beneath his rank, his genius, his position and beauty, beneath everything, Narsus was vulnerable, hurting, hungering to be loved for himself, not anything he could offer another...
       And I wanted that gentle, yearning soul so much.
       I cupped his face in my hands, uncertain of whether to obey him or not. What if he awoke tomorrow and believed I had taken advantage of him? Our tentative friendship could be ruined beyond repair.
       And yet, the sweet longing in his face…
       I kissed his brow.
       "Narsus, I can teach you what it is to be enslaved by another - but not in the way you mean."
       He stared at me, unblinking, for a moment, then smiled.
       "You cannot know that."
       I frowned.
       "I don't understand."
       He moved a little closer and wrapped his arms around my neck, pressing soft lips to my throat as I sat breathless and unable to move.
       "You cannot know…" my breath caught as he kissed under my jaw "… what…" a gentle kiss to my cheek "… enslavement I suffer…"
       I swallowed convulsively, trying to ignore the heat in my groin, and took a shaky breath.
       "There is naught you have suffered that I do not also endure…"
       I could hardly hear my own whisper - I was sure he had not heard it. But his arms tightened around me, and his voice was low and murmurous.
       "Then shall we find a way to set each other free?"
       My body trembling, I pulled him to me, burying my face in his hair.
       "Lord of my body and soul, I could ask no greater gift in this world…"

He was so beautiful - his body slim and muscular, warm and pliant beneath mine. He took my breath away all over again, lying on a soldier's rough sheets, the raw silk of his hair cascading over the thin hard pillows, his arms stretched above his head as I worshipped him, pressing kisses to every inch of the tawny pale skin as he quivered and gasped quietly. I blew gently across his groin, smiling as he shivered and arched his hips upwards, the pale golden shaft twitching, then jerking as I ran a fingertip softly up the underside. He bit back a whimper.
       "Daryun… Oh…"
       I moved back up the bed and kissed his mouth lightly, startled when his hands wrapped around the back of my head, pulling me closer as his lips latched to mine as though he would suck my soul from my body and into his safekeeping. Against my hand I could feel his member pulsing, his hips making tiny movements against me, and I dragged myself from his embrace and slid back down to his groin.
       Sliding him into my throat as he bit his knuckles to stifle his scream of pleasure.
       It did not take him long to come, that first time, his hands clenched in my hair as his hips bucked upwards. Kissing him as he slid from my mouth, I moved back up to lie against him, smiling down at him, loving the sated expression he bore, his lips parted, his eyes closed as he panted, his body entirely limp with satisfaction. Long minutes later his eyelids fluttered open and he smiled weakly.
       "Daryun…"
       I kissed him with all the tenderness a rough soldier could summon.
       "My lord…"
       "But…" His hand settled over my groin, and I groaned. Imp that he is, he grinned.
       "Ah… Allow me to take care of this little matter for you."
       I mock-glowered.
       "Little?"
       He chuckled.
       "Your pardon. Allow me to take care of this weighty and substantial matter for you…"
       And he did. And he knew exactly how to please me. He was certainly no novice, and I wondered, distantly, if I should be disappointed that I was obviously not his first… Deciding, as his tongue and fingers wrought magic upon me, that I didn't care…

It felt as though I shattered into sunlight as I came.

Long, long minutes later I settled back into myself, turning my head to look dazedly into those beautiful green eyes. He smiled.
       "Beloved."
       I wrapped myself around him, my breath shuddering through his hair, unable to speak for a moment. Then pulled back and gazed at him, feeling my eyes brimming.
       "My love."
       The strangest little expression of rapture passed over his face, his lips parted, eyes closed, then he smiled tremblingly at me.
       "I want…"
       I pressed a kiss to his forehead.
       "What do you want?"
       "I want to belong to you…"
       I sighed and nestled him closer.
       "You already do."
       He shook his head against my chest.
       "I want my body to belong to you as well."
       It took a few moments for his meaning to come clear in my blissfully happy, decidedly dazed mind. I pulled back slightly and peered at him.
       "Are you sure? It will hurt if you haven't done this before…"
       He sighed and kissed me.
       "I don't care."
       And I had nothing in my quarters that could be used to make it easier for him. Except for the moisture already weeping from my member at the very thought of sinking into his sweet body.
       If I was careful it would most likely be sufficient.
       He gasped as I pressed a finger into him, instinct having him jerk away from the invasion until he caught himself and, biting his lip, pushed slowly down, relaxing as he grew used to the intrusion. I moved very slightly, allowing him to accustom himself to the unfamiliar feeling - then eased in another finger. Breathlessly he held still as I stroked him - suddenly gasping as I found that sweet, sweet place within.
       "Daryun…?"
       "All is as it should be, my lord…"
       And as his breathing quickened I slowly, very carefully, pressed myself into him, forcing myself to gentleness as long legs wrapped around my waist and elegant fingers dug into my shoulders.
       "…. Daryun…." He breathed, his voice ghosting in my ear as I began to thrust more strongly. He moaned, his head falling back, exposing his long pale throat to my lips…
       He gasped as he came, and I followed him seconds later, bruising his ribs with the force of my embrace as my dearest, deepest dreams came true.

The following morning he was cast out of the court, condemned to exile for gainsaying the king on the subject of slavery.

I should have gone with him. I know I should have gone into exile with him. But my first duty was with my king - and the young prince.
       It's easy, now, with hindsight, to see that my first duty should have been to my beloved, not to a half-mad king blinded by the flattery and ill council of a traitor. But at the time…
       No wonder he is cold towards me. He gave me everything, and I betrayed him.

The night was cool, our fire small: we did not wish to attract the attention of the bands of Lusitanian soldiery roving the countryside. The birds Elam had managed to bring down had done little to fill our bellies. Arislan was sleeping fitfully, Elam, at Narsus' order, snuggled against his back, their closeness helping to keep both youths warm. Narsus had offered to take first watch: I had settled myself to rest.
       But I could not sleep. How could I sleep, with the one I loved so close to me, and so far away?
       Knowing full well I risked at the very least his ignoring me, I moved to join him on the lookout rock above our small camp. For a while we sat in silence, gazing out over the moon-bright countryside, my lord resolutely motionless, me not knowing what to say. Finally I turned to him. Trying to put into my voice all the regret, all the pain I'd caused and suffered over the last three years. Hoping against hope he could one day find it within his generous, compassionate heart to forgive the fool who hurt him so.
       "I'm sorry."
       "And that should suffice, should it?"
       At least he was speaking to me….
       "No, Narsus. Of course not. I could apologise forever and it would not be enough."
       He turned to me, and I thought I caught a glimpse of tears in his lovely eyes.
       "Not a word, Daryun. You sent not one word. Not a message, not a letter, nothing. You abandoned me."
       "Narsus…"
       "And now, you return, and force me from my home. Tell me, pray, why I should even speak to you."
       I swallowed hard.
       "My lord… There was a campaign - we were engaged in battle along the border… I tried to get word to you." I lowered my head. "I believe the courier died."
       He inclined his head.
       "And afterwards?"
       "We were thrown into turmoil. There have been many changes within the court, Narsus, most of them for the worst."
       He nodded, returning his gaze to the horizon. I'm not an imaginative man, but I fancied I could feel the hurt surrounding him, and my heart ached. I wanted to pull him to me again. But that privilege would have to be earned.
       "My lord… I never stopped loving you. But it was a full year and a half before I could return to the court. It took me longer again to find out where you'd gone. And then there were more skirmishes, more troubles along the border, more Lusitanian incursions. And then there was Arislan…"
       He turned to me, his face impassive - but his eyes were wary. He wanted to believe me, I knew it. I raised my hands.
       "Ask the prince, Narsus. Arislan will confirm what I have said."
       He frowned slightly. Then sighed, his eyes closing as his shoulders slumped.
       "Very well. I accept your excuse."
       I bowed my head, whispering,
       "Thank you, my lord."
       Feeling empty, I rose to return to the camp. As I turned away, Narsus called quietly after me.
       "I have missed you, Daryun."
       I swung back sharply. There was a wistful smile on his face, an echo of the expression he once saved for me, now overlaid with pain and regret. Without thinking I strode to him, knelt before him and caught his hands in mine.
       He did not pull away. His voice was low, saddened.
       "I would be a poor advisor if I did not understand the constraints placed upon us by circumstance."
       I risked a swift glance into his face. There was understanding there, and perhaps even the faintest beginnings of forgiveness. One slender hand rose to brush at the tears I hadn't realised I'd wept as he sighed,
       "Give me time, beloved. Give me time."

And I would give him all the time in the world…

© 2002 May 20^th Joules Taylor

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© 2002 WordWrights

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