#baronpine

He settled into a moment of internal chaos, praying that this would be the time that his self-prescribed medication would finally work. All the muddled thoughts in his brain would lose their potency, paving way for the numbing effects of the alcohol.

It was bad enough that the bloody requiem ball was due to happen this weekend. A grand soiree, celebrating the end of the war that Nefarian himself had never had the privilege of being invited to. Moreover it seemed the universe enjoyed making him suffer, as his birthday was fast approaching. A stark reminder that another year had passed, leaving him isolated and alone within the constraints of the truce. 

He knew he would live to regret signing that document, one flick of a pen and his entire life had been reduced to 6 month check-ins and constant surveillance.

Thanks to the mortal population, the surveillance part was becoming easier and easier for those dogs working at The Sanctuary. Cameras, tracking devices… you name it, they put it to use.

Any suspicious activity had him being pulled into an interrogation room deep within the confines of those dank stone walls, surrounded by sickeningly condescending faces.

Sure, it was pleasing to know he was still thought of as dangerous. That his reputation for being delightfully malicious had not been completely glossed over with the passing of time. But those that held authority in this new regime dared to put his limits to the test- and each time he felt closer to cracking under the pressure, to act in accordance with his outrage of being belittled.

It would seem that even the people that had fought on the side of ‘good’ had despicable traits in them that could rival his own. Sore winners were the worst kinds of people.

Despite all the inconvenience of the strict guidelines set in place to let him continue living as a free(-ish) man, he was still able to stay in the comfort of his own home. A beautiful estate that gave him the illusion of privacy. He still had access to everything he needed to live comfortably, most essentially, all the alcohol he could drink was at his fingertips.

Such tasteless consumption may not have been the most socially acceptable pastime, likewise Nefarian himself could very much be regarded the same.

More favourable company might show concern for his current state, but the lackeys being kept in his minuscule social circles were only there to do his bidding.

They weren't there to offer him thoughts or opinions. Behind their panicked eyes there was nothing worthy of his attention.

 Even in a disheveled state, he held more power in the tips of his fingers than they did in their entire bodies. What did he care of their troubled glances at his orders to fetch a fresh decanter before ten in the morning? 

It wasn't his fault after all, if the two decanters of aged rum from yesterday hadn't been strong enough to scorch away the burdens of his past… at least he was refined enough to change his choice of poison from day to day.

Today, he had opted for Lagavulin 16, a well-known favourite of Baron Vengeous. It had been almost 50 years since Nefarian had last felt those blazing eyes cast upon him. 

The man was prideful to a fault, and had refused to sign the peace treaty to ensure his own freedom. Instead, he had chastised those who did sign for turning their backs on The Faceless Gods… cursing them with a venomous spite. Nefarian especially, had felt the animosity coming from The Baron that day. 

The two had turned their backs on each other, Nefarian deciding to abandon his goals from his time alongside Mevolent. Baron chose to pursue it with a renewed vigour. So he was taken into custody and a sentence passed, leaving Nefarian with no alternative other than to navigate his newfound seclusion; without the man who had begun to influence the shape of his life more than he had realised at the time.

Part of him recognised his own desire for that long estranged connection, which may be why he chose this particular spirit to drown his sorrows into…

That was enough. 

No more of these confounded thoughts. 

Nefarian lifted the glass to his lips and took a greedy gulp. Notes of brine danced up through his nose as the burn of the whisky took hold. The sweetness of the flavour perfectly offset the salty scent and he let out a relieved sigh, burying his heart deep in the flame now alight in his chest. 

Without hesitation, he brought the glass up once more and polished it off. The now tiny bead of ice slipped down the glass and clinked against his teeth. 

He remembered how Baron's lips had tasted of this same whisky. That fateful day when they had kissed meaningfully for the first time. No teasing, no torment, pure unbridled infatuation that had left the two of them lost for words… He brought his fingers up to the corner of his mouth, trembling as that memory threatened to take over. 

More. 

Nefarian blinked back his emotions, refusing to let them well up in his eyes and refilled his glass. He put down the decanter, eased the weight of the glass against his wrist and lifted it…

"Beg your pardon Sir…". 

Nefarian slammed his glass back down onto the table, his brow furrowed with an intense fury, "What makes you think I wanted to be disturbed?", he spat. He hadn't even heard the little louse come in, all this domesticity was making him soft and he despised not being fully aware of his surroundings.

Two trembling hands reached out towards him, clutching a letter tightly, "T-this arrived for you S-Sir…". 

Nefarian immediately snatched it with his free hand, turned it over in his grasp and studied the back of the letter- his blood ran cold. 

There, holding the point of the envelope closed was a navy blue wax seal with The Baron's family crest elaborately protruding. He let go of the glass, and waved at the pathetic trembling man before him, "Get out", he snapped. 

"M-My Lord?". 

"OUT!"he roared, all sense of patience lost as he felt himself beginning to lose what strength he had left to fight back the emotions he so desperately wanted to keep submerged in ardent spirits. 

He watched as the cretin scarpered away and Nefarian reached down for the knife he kept around his ankle. Pulling it from its sheath, the blade shone in the dim light and he sliced it along the top of the envelope. 

He didn't want this. He hadn't asked for this. 

Yet, he was overcome with the urge to read what had been written. To accept the merciless onslaught of insults that were inevitably headed his way. He knew he deserved it, for as much as Baron had left him to the mercy of the opposing side of the war- Nefarian himself had left Baron to the mercy of his unwavering conviction which he was then persecuted for. A conviction he had once sworn to follow himself... 

There were no winners in this dance that had entangled their hearts, and forever a glutton for punishment Nefarian unfolded the letter- what he read made the entire room still as though the rushing of time was holding steady for the first time in decades. 

'Nefarian, 

If this letter somehow makes it to you unscathed- then I pray from the darkest recesses of my soul that you had the strength to open it. 

I write to you, not in scorn or contempt, but reflective of the way we last parted. 

There is a lot that I had left unsaid to you, and the words that were spoken in haste left a lot to be desired. 

You broke me Nefarian. Watching you walk away from me, from The Church after all that we had been through… but it was not purely because of my devotion to the Faceless Ones that caused it to affect me so. 

I have come to realize, my heartbreak was out of my devotion to you too. 

As undeserved as it is- part of me is completely undone by you. This is something I cannot seem to change no matter how much time goes by. 

I fear that your reckless self destruction may get to you long before I am able… but when I am free from here, I will come and find you. 

I yearn greatly to tell you in person the words that we had left unsaid for so many years. 

For now, Happy Birthday my dearest comrade. May the blessings of The Faceless Gods find you this year. 

Yours,

Baron'

A loose tear dripped down onto the paper as Nefarian finally allowed himself to blink. He processed the words neatly written onto the page and clutched the letter close to his chest in a daze, "You fool", he muttered to himself.