#eneas

“The Count seduced her dad?” Bluebrook’s red face is alight with hilarity.

“He said, ‘They think they want me marrying into their family? I’m just giving them a taste of what that would entail.’” Siavash imitates an exaggerated posh Mendevian accent and dissolves into laughter with his compatriots.

Eneas can’t help but chuckle.

In the Fleet Bridge Inn the Andoren bankers have become uproarious. It’s remarkable, Eneas thinks, how much volume a halfling’s lungs can produce under the influence of a few drinks and a fine storyteller or two.

In the midst of it Eneas smiles, places a story or a joke here and there, is attentive to his patron, but his whole attention has been stolen by their new friend, the guitarist who lounges at his side and laughs along with the wine-drunk halflings though he’s barely on his second glass, more tipsy with their joy and Eneas’ stories than with wine.

It is true he is charmed. He can barely drag his eyes away from the burnished-gold hair, twinkling hazel eyes and radiant smile; but he must remain concentrated on the situation at hand.

Eneas has been treading a razor-thin line with Gladstone, his patron’s secretary, wary of making him jealous of how quickly Eneas has been taken into the banker’s confidence. He has been cautious to defer to Gladstone and praise him often in front of Bluebrook, who takes his secretary’s long-suffering loyalty blithely for granted.

Like at this moment, when the tipsy secretary offers a loud toast to his boss and is silenced like a yapping dog. Poor Gladstone, thinks Eneas. How far can his loyalty be stretched before it breaks? And when it breaks, what magnificent drama will ensue?

Because he alone knows the whole story: that Gladstone secretly holds the only copy of the will that Bluebrook burned to ash in his fireplace decades ago—the will in which his mother left her fortune to be equally distributed to the family, rather than to be placed in his able banker’s hands alone.

With a word Gladstone could ruin Bluebrook, lay bare his dishonesty and take away his fortune and his family, the only two things the halfling appears to value in this life.

It is a highly intriguing situation for Eneas to find himself in the middle of.

The slightest tug on the strings could bring everything crashing down around Bluebrook. What whispers would it take to put the knife in his hand? Would Gladstone even fight back? Would they take one another out in a frenzy of violence or in a weave of diabolical plots?

But having silenced Gladstone, Bluebrook is summoning his new counsellor.

“We’ve exhausted our guitarist,” says the halfling banker with a jovial wink at Siavash, whom he has adopted since he joined their table earlier this evening. “Time for some violin! And more of that wine!”

With a gracious bow Eneas agrees, and stands at the foot of the table with his violin while Siavash and the halfling bankers hush one another.

He lays the warm wood against his cheek, poises his bow, breathes, and begins.

Each note is an ephemeral moment of aching beauty, like a lover’s last kiss.

It’s unsettling that he can sense how still and rapt the half-elf becomes at the sweet strains of his violin, as if the music connects the two of them and he can feel the faint vibrations of the man’s heart through it, and that thread that stretches between them tugs on something locked deep inside him and opens it, and suddenly old pain pours out and resonates in every stroke of his bow.

This Siavash, this Lark whose spirit is so light, whose presence is somehow so comforting, makes him momentarily forget himself.

Through his violin, he is weeping. For all that’s been torn away from him, and all he has torn away from himself; for being surrounded by people but forever alone, for traveling endless roads with no home to return to. His heart aches; a high, raw, keening note escapes his violin.

And in an instant he clamps down on it savagely, though no one suspects anything from his calm, smiling mask—or so he believes until he glances again at the half-elf.

The man’s eyes, locked on him, are full of grief.

He saw everything, Eneas realizes in shock.

When he is once again seated at the banker’s generous table alongside his new friend, Siavash is masking his own emotion as well. He is all smiles again.

“You’re good,” he congratulates as they clink glasses, but his eyes search Eneas’ as they drink.

They haven’t met for an hour and Eneas already feels a rare, prickling fear.

The contagious laugh. The soulful guitar. The way he has of listening with his heart, not just his ears. The relaxed grace of someone entirely at home in his skin and clothed in a bouquet of soft colors, which like his warm, familiar manner makes people smile.

Even as he thinks it, Eneas catches himself smiling.

A smile that is returned twofold, and not without a hint of an invitation, at which Eneas lets his eyes flick to Siavash’s open collar and the butterfly pendant that lays against his vibrant skin.

“Desnan?”

“Heart and soul. The stars have never steered me wrong.” There is no mistaking the meaning in his very direct, inviting look.

My friend, your luck may have run out, Eneas thinks, if you believe you wish to sail on my treacherous sea.

It would be so easy to let the idyll burn itself out in one torrid night. The slightest nod and in minutes they would be upstairs, and Eneas surprises himself with how clear and evocative the sweet images in his mind. Very tempting indeed.

So why not?

He wonders at his own hesitation. He tells himself this is a rare flower for his garden, one worth taking the time to cultivate. But does he also detect a twinge of fear in his heart, that once entwined about this source of heat it will be agony to tear his coils free?

He decides the intrigue is worth the danger, and besides it can’t last. An itinerant Desnan – if I don’t leave him, he will leave me.

* * *

It is time for the counsellors to withdraw. Their work here is done.

They close the veranda doors behind them and stand together looking out over the balmy night sea, pale lines of foam hypnotically rolling together and dissipating in a vast blackness of sea and sky beyond. Both are contemplating those obscure horizons: what comes next?

“I must congratulate you,” says Eneas eventually. His long, dark hair is loose around the luminous brown of his face, gold bangles on his horns and ears matching the brightness of his eyes.

“Thank you.” Siavash beams. Almost like he could take wing he grabs the balustrade and leans over it precariously, peering down into the garden below where lamps still burn, forgotten by the halfling family now gathered tearfully inside the villa. He doesn’t notice Eneas’ hand reach out to stabilize him and then quickly withdraw.

Moments earlier, under their gentle guidance the banker Bluebrook confessed the crime he’d been concealing from his family for decades and returned the money to its true inheritors, with interest. There was a risk his family would repudiate him, but it looks like at least a few are willing to forgive. Siavash is satisfied.

Ten days ago, lingering together under the stars on the Augustana quay, Eneas laid out the problem before his new friend, curious to see how Siavash would handle it.

“He does not know there is a second copy of the will. Should Gladstone choose to bring it to light, Bluebrook’s family will doubtless realize what he did, as the sole beneficiary of having burned the original. He will lose his family and his fortune, all he values. What lengths do you believe he would be willing to go to, to prevent that?”

Siavash searched his gaze for a moment and then said something that surprised Eneas at the time: “You’re not in it for the blackmail.” Not a question—a statement. “You’re just curious.”

“You’re insightful.” Eneas gave one nod and leaned closer. “And now I am even more curious to know what you would advise him.”

“What are you planning to advise him?”

“I haven’t decided yet. Tell me first what you would do.”

“He needs a change in perspective,” Siavash said. “He’s always believed his worth in life can be measured in gold. If he could see his way to confessing and giving up his fortune, he might have a shot at reconciling with his family. Don’t get me wrong; honesty isn’t always the best policy, but in this case I think it is.”

“And how would you convince him of this?”

“Work backwards. Shift his perspective first, open his horizons to a different way of life, and then gradually let him discover the path that will lead him there.”

Thus the plan that he and Eneas agreed upon: to whisk the banker away on a little seaside holiday in a small, poor bungalow with none of his usual luxuries, close to a village of friendly halfling peasants where Bluebrook might begin to feel at home, and might begin to see his life in a new light.

The unspoken ulterior motive to that plan of course was that it meant Siavash and Eneas would have a chance to spend more time together.

They walked along the beach and swam in the Inner Sea, played music and an absurd Andoren ball game with the locals, and when on the sixth day Bluebrook announced that a good cheese sandwich on the beach with friends was better than any five-star meal he did not notice the triumphant look Siavash shot Eneas over the halfling’s head.

The plan bore fruit. Bluebrook made his confession, gave away his fortune, and Siavash and Eneas’ friendship burgeoned into something rich with potential, a potential that charges the air between them now on the veranda of the banker’s villa as they stand shoulder to shoulder, Siavash full of hope and Eneas full of dread.

Siavash nods to himself. “I’m glad it worked out for him. He’s not a bad guy. One panicked youthful mistake shouldn’t destroy someone’s whole life.”

Eneas contemplates the stars. “Yet it would have been such a glorious tragedy.”

“Tragedy is only beautiful on stage, not in real life. I can’t bear when people are separated.”

These words fall into a silence between them.

Eneas recoils, the slightest movement, but it betrays that he’s been stricken. His whole long life has been a tragedy of separation. He recovers with his usual grace, tilting his chin up to look sidelong at Siavash and smiling. “Did you know, I had a wager with myself that you would succeed.”

“You bet on me? Smart move.” Siavash laughs, the carefree sound cocooned by the washing of sea waves so that it is for Eneas alone. “What was at stake?”

There is a pause and when Siavash glances curiously at Eneas he witnesses the mask slipping. His mesmerizing golden eyes have misted over with the pain of a tremendous inner struggle. The effect steals Siavash’s breath. His heart forgets to beat.

There is hope after all.

“An indulgence,” says Eneas at last very quietly, lips trembling, agonized golden gaze locked on the night sea. “A respite. A suspension of my one absolute precept.” As he speaks he turns toward him and Siavash can almost feel it physically: the barrier between them crumbling and blowing away like sand.

Rarely in his life has Siavash felt this drawn to someone only to have his attentions rebuffed. By now he knows enough of Eneas’ past to know he’s had lovers of all kinds.

So why not me?

Why, each time he thinks he catches a glimpse of real warmth under the mask, does the mask spring up again, hiding true connection behind false charm, meeting Siavash’s spontaneous flirtations with practiced deflection? Is the harmony he feels between them—that he hears resonating in his bones when Eneas is near—only wishful thinking? Siavash wants desperately to reach over, gently pull the mask aside so that they’re truly face to face and let him know what has been tormenting him, filling his waking mind and his dreams and his heart and soul this past fortnight—

Whatever haunts you, let me set you free.

But the force of will that was holding back the magnetism of their bodies has been abolished. Both are powerless as it draws them together.

“My Lark,” Eneas whispers. “May I kiss—”

”Oh, this will be good!” Eneas hollered as his whole being seemed to perk right up. Lucian had somehow managed to avoid most of the nosy questions and embarrassing tasks Eneas and Iliya had tormented each other with, so the fates had decided that it was only fair that Eneas got to torment Lucian a bit as well. Eneas leaned forward and brushed a blonde, curly lock of hair behind his ear, which almost immediately crept its way back onto his face once again, as he stared at Lucian, a twinkle in his pale blue eye. “So… Truth or dare?”

Lucian sighed. It was getting kind of late and Lucian was starting to feel the alcohol doing its magic in his nervous system. He had a tendency to become more irritable and emotional under the influence, and the combination of that with his growing weariness wasn’t something he was quite ready to show to the boys just yet.

“...Dare”, Lucian finally answered. Doing something embarrassing seemed a lot more tolerable than spiraling down a cycle of nosy question one after another even though the rules of the game clearly called for only one question per round. However, upon hearing Lucian’s answer, Eneas’ grin grew visibly wider. He leaned back and let out an exaggerated “hmm” with a thoughtful expression just as ridiculous before he locked eyes with Lucian, chuckling as if he had come up with the most devilish plan of his life.

“...I dare you to kiss Iliya.”

Lucian’s heart skipped a beat and for a second he forgot how to breathe. What?

He turned to look at Iliya as if to seek some answers or support or anything from him, but was only met with an expression of mutual confusion. Lucian shook his head at the mere concept of this preposterous task and looked at Eneas. “W-why, though, Eneas?” he sighed, discontent shining through his tone of voice.

Eneas shrugged and let out an amused giggle.

“Why not? Besides, we’ve been going on for quite a while now and I’m running out of ideas. What, is a simple kiss too much for our high society man? Luckily for you, we’ve got plenty of shots left.” Eneas gestured at the half-empty bottle of wine and the small glass next to it. Tsk, of course he had to be like that. Unfortunately for Eneas, Lucian wasn’t a quitter and wasn’t going to just hand out the victory for him. Besides, how bad could a simple kiss be? It couldn’t be worse than having to hear about what a wuss he was for the rest of his life… Right?

“Fine, fine, I’ll do it”, Lucian groaned and turned to face Iliya head on. He looked up at the blonde man and was met with his mismatched eyes. Sure, his heavy eyelids and dark circles gave a tired look to him, but his eyes were still… Pretty. Captivating. His right one was light bluish green, almost like the clear waters of a faraway land one could only dream of. His left one? A deep, very dark green – so deep that one could get lost in for hours, staring at the endless yet beautiful depth…

Suddenly Lucian’s cheeks got warmer and he quickly turned his gaze to his hands.

“So… If you don’t mind, then-” Lucian started but was quickly interrupted.

“No, just do it”, Iliya almost insisted. Apparently he wanted it to be over as fast and as much as Lucian did.

“Okay...” Lucian sighed and scooted closer to Iliya, raising his gaze back to the taller man once more. His expression was… Indecipherable, to say the least. Well, here goes nothing… Lucian sat on his knees to reach eye level with Iliya and leaned closer, pressing his lips gently against Iliya’s. Not knowing what to do with his hands, Lucian placed them on Iliya’s shoulders. Good, shoulders was a safe place, not too intimate – and good support.

Suddenly Lucian’s attention fully concentrated on the situation at hand, his whole face heating up along with his heartbeat picking up the pace. Iliya’s lips were a bit chapped due to his bad habit of biting them, yet they were still warm and sweet from the wine shot he had taken last round. It wasn’t the worst kiss Lucian had experienced during his short life – in fact, it was quite nice… Even Iliya himself seemed to slowly relax his body under Lucian’s touch and… Lean closer to him. Huh…

Lucian suddenly pulled away rather quickly as he realized he was lingering on the kiss a bit too long than what was socially acceptable for two friends playing spin the bottle. Though, Iliya wasn’t exactly the first one to pull away either…

“There. Satisfied?” Lucian huffed as he sat down and glared at Eneas whose grin hadn’t worn off in the slightest.

“Hmmm… Yes, satisfied. Very much so”, Eneas chuckled. That bastard was enjoying the show, wasn’t he.

“Alright, as much as I love spending my time with you boys, I think I’ll have to call it a night”, Iliya said suddenly as he stood up, letting out a small grunt as his knee popped in protest.

“What, already?” Eneas gasped. “But things were just starting to get interesting, too!”

“Oh don’t you worry your pretty little head, there will be plenty of more wine nights, I’m sure. Besides, I’m an old man and I need my beauty sleep or else I can’t function as a human the next day.”

“Ah, fine, this was quite a bit of excitement for you, old man”, Eneas chuckled as he stood up as well, picking the wine bottles up from the floor. “What about you, Lucian?”

“Oh, well, I think I will head home too”, Lucian answered. “It’s getting pretty late…”

After some small clean-up, Iliya and Lucian grabbed their coats from the coat rack and exchanged a few more words with Eneas before wishing him a good night and thanking for both the company and the wine. Eneas leaned against the door frame, his stupid smug grin ever so persistent as he waved the two goodbye and wished them a peaceful rest of the night as well. Iliya and Lucian had to walk a few flights of stairs down before they reached the lobby of the building, which was almost eerily quiet for a Friday night, and stepped outside into the chilly air. They started walking down a street leading to the outskirts of the downtown area where both of them happened to live. As their apartment buildings were relatively close to each other, Iliya and Lucian often walked back home together when coming back from Eneas’ place.

It was a rather peaceful night, despite it being Friday, the weekend eve. The streets were mostly empty and quiet, apart from a couple small groups of people Iliya and Lucian saw across from them. They were mostly teenagers or young adults, though, based on how full of energy and life they were even during the wee hours of the night. One group had, evidently, just come from a bar as whatever the kids were trying to yell to each other sounded more like sloppy gibberish than actual words of a recognizable language. That, and one of the guys stopped abruptly and threw up on the sidewalk, his buddy soon rushing to rub him on his back. It was kind of gross, but also kind of sweet?

“Oh how I don’t miss that”, Iliya scoffed.

“What, you used to party a lot?” Lucian scoffed back, raising an eyebrow at him.

“You bet. Sometimes I would come back home from the city so shit-faced I’m not even sure how I made it back unharmed. My mother and father were so mad at me, but no matter how many times they tried to lecture me, I did not learn. I was but a boy, a young lad and I wanted to test the boundaries. That is, until I had to go… Well, you know.”

“I know. But still, I didn’t take you for the party animal type”, Lucian smirked.

“There are still a lot of things you don’t know about me, Lucian”, Iliya hummed and cracked a smile, making his cute cheek dimples appear. He should smile more often, his smile was so adorable… But Iliya was right, there were a lot things Lucian still didn’t know about him or his past… Not that Lucian minded, he actually liked receiving little nuggets of information about the people in his life, slowly putting all the puzzle pieces together to form a complex image of a human being. Besides, the enigmatic nature of Iliya was one of the characteristics that drew Lucian to him.

“And I don’t mind that. I already like you based on what I know”, Lucian said with a smile and received a small chuckle as a reply, marking the end of the conversation.

The two of them kept walking in silence, side by side, as they took a quick turn to the left, now walking down a dark alleyway, shaded away from the larger streets of the city. Usually walking down these sorts of alleyways kept Lucian on the edge, heightening his senses, ready to defend himself, but with Iliya… He was relaxed. At peace. He felt like he had nothing to fear when Iliya was near. He had this extraordinarily calm presence to him that seemed to rub off on everyone around him, calming even the liveliest person down in a few moments. Not only that, but he had nerves of the strongest steel Lucian had ever seen in his life: no matter the situation, no matter how badly things were crashing down, Iliya kept his cool and tried to find ways to solve the problem at hand. What’s more, he seemed… Strong, and capable. Not physically in this case, though definitely that too, but mentally. He knew when to stand up for himself and others, and did not give up until justice was met. Someone would call it pure stubbornness, but to Lucian it was the sign of a dedicated man with a good heart.

After walking for a while, the duo got out of the alleyway and ended up on another bigger street. The alleyway was a little shortcut Iliya and Lucian had found accidentally while getting lost coming back from Eneas’ the first time around. It turned out to be quite handy in the end and it became a stable part of the route to the eccentric artist’s apartment. As the duo were walking out in the open once again, Lucian suddenly felt something touch the tip of his nose, then his cheek and then his nose again. He stopped, looked up to the sky and saw snowflakes floating down ever so slowly, as if they were dancing their way down from the heavens.

“Snow…” Lucian murmured and followed the snowflakes with his gaze.

“Oh yeah, we’re approaching the winter months after all”, Iliya, who had stopped a bit farther away from Lucian, nodded and looked up at the sky as well. Lucian looked at his taller friend. Iliya’s face was illuminated by a soft light of a streetlight, highlighting all the different features of his face. Sure, his appearance wasn’t that of a model: his nose wasn’t straight and pointy, his skin wasn’t spotless, his posture was a bit off from all the sitting he did at the pottery studio and his body was dotted with scars, small reminders of his harrowing past, but… Lucian found beauty in all those imperfections. They were what made Iliya, well, Iliya. A man with a tough, coarse exterior, but the heart of gold. A real diamond in the rough…

“Hm, what’s wrong?” Iliya asked all of a sudden, tilting his head as he turned to look at Lucian. Shit. Was he staring this whole time?

“Oh, I, well, it’s uhh… Nothing, really”, Lucian spluttered and cracked an awkward smile.

“You’re not fooling me, I know when something is bothering you.” Damn it. Why did he have to be so annoyingly good at reading people? Lucian muttered as he tried to come up with a good explanation, but before he could form a comprehensible sentence, Iliya continued.

“...Is it about Eneas? You seemed to be quite bothered by his little stunt back there.”

...Oh.

“Ah, not really… I’m just wondering where he gets all his ideas from…”

“Who knows really, he just likes to mess with people… But you know you could’ve just said no if you were uncomfortable, right? He’s a dickhead, yes, but not completely insensitive.”

“No, I know, and I wasn’t uncomfortable, not at all… I think it was just… He can be a bit exhausting under the influence, you know? That, and I get cranky when I’m tired.”

Something seemed to... Change in Iliya’s precense, but Lucian couldn’t quite put a finger on what.

“Oh, I hear you”, Iliya chuckled, his tone of voice… Warmer? “Although, I think all three of us can be exhausting under the influence. I’m also... Glad that you weren’t uncomfortable.”

“Of course I wasn’t, it was… You, after all. I think I would’ve been a lot more uncomfortable if I had to kiss someone I didn’t know.”

“I suppose you’re right… Come on now, we really should get going on.”

The duo continued walking down the street for a while before taking another turn to the left onto a smaller street which eventually lead them to Lucian’s apartment building. It was quite an old building, though very well taken care of with all the renovations done to it over the course of multiple centuries. As they were approaching the building, Lucian looked up to see only a couple of windows lit up with soft light coming from the inside. It seemed that most of the residents were already asleep. He stopped just before the front door and turned to look at Iliya whose shoulders were already partially covered in snow.

“Anyway, thank you for joining us once again”, Lucian said with a smile. “I had a lot of fun with you two tonight.”

“Me too, and thank you for inviting me”, Iliya nodded. “Though, I think we should try to torment Eneas even more next time. A little payback won’t hurt him, right?”

“I think he deserves it”, Lucian chuckled. The two stood in silence for a short while as neither of them made the initiative to leave. Lucian felt like there were still… So many things he wanted to say and do, but it was very late already and he was starting to feel the beginnings of a headache throb in his head.

“Well… Goodnight, Iliya. May the gods be in your favor and grant you a hangover-free morning”, Lucian then chuckled.

“Heh, thank you. May the gods be in your favor as well. Goodnight”, Iliya huffed. Lucian gave his friend one last smile before turning his back on him, ready to head inside. As he was about to open the front door and step into the warmth of the building’s lobby, he heard Iliya’s voice behind him.

“Hey.”

Lucian turned around, his hand still on the door handle. “Yes?”

“You’re a good kisser.”

Lucian’s heart skipped a beat and for a second he was afraid it would stop completely. Blood rushed into his head, making his whole face heat up. He was suddenly feeling a bit lightheaded. How… How could he say something like that and so nonchalantly, no less? Lucian opened his mouth to protest – to say anything at all, but words got stuck in his throat, making only pathetic sounds come out. He kept staring at Iliya, completely speechless, yet he wanted to look away, but it felt as if his whole body had been paralyzed and he was fighting against it--