#idalis

He didn’t know what had happened to them. Nelisa at least would have the good sense to pretend she was no one important, possibly even attempt an escape, but certainly Idalis would have heard of them, and it would be so easy to scare the servants into revealing the truth. Would he have them killed, or give them to his men for entertainment? Would he keep them for himself, just to show them and all that he, Arracen, could no longer protect even those he loved most?

Maybe he should have kept fighting, for them. But then, had there really been a chance for anything other than more death and less mercy?

The cut in his arm throbbed with pain; it barely bled anymore, but certainly, it should be seen to by a doctor. Then again, plenty of the soldiers he had ordered into battle had to go without proper care, there simply weren’t enough medics; didn’t it serve him right, then?

He hadn’t been able to protect or care for anyone, at the end.

He had lost track of time when he finally heard footsteps and the shine of a torch approaching the barred door of his cell. Four soldiers, wearing Idalis’ colours, came into view and unlocked the door.

»By the King’s orders, you are to come with us.«

There was no point arguing; Idalis had already proven he had no issue threatening his life. He tried to stealthily dry his tears as he was escorted upstairs, the fading daylight still bright after the darkness of the dungeon.

They brought him into one of the guest rooms.

»Clean yourself up, sir. You will join the king for supper.«

Arracen stared at the door as it was slammed in his face, completely baffled. What was going on? What was Idalis playing at? Did he want to present his captive to the court - to blackmail his, Arracen’s, followers into loyalty, or purely as a show of triumph?

The tub was even filled with warm water, and on the bed lay a set of his own civil clothing, clearly straight from his wardrobe, which Idalis must have shamelessly rifled. It wasn’t a very festive outfit, but it was more than decent.

He pulled himself together; no matter how anxious it made him, for now he didn’t have a choice but to do as he was told. He certainly didn’t want to anger the man who held Nelisa’s and Lint’s lives in his hands if he hadn’t already killed them.

He would see how much wiggling room he could carve out once Idalis finally deigned to tell him what he was up to.

The warm water was so comforting he was tempted to just sink back and relax into it for a moment. But he didn’t know how much time he had to get ready, and really, right now he didn’t feel like he deserved this kind of luxury, so he opted for a quick full-body wash instead. It felt plenty luxurious, even so, to finally get the sweat and blood and grime still clinging to him from the battle off. The water stung in his wound, but at least it had stopped bleeding. He wondered whether Idalis had plain forgotten he was wounded, or wanted him to suffer, or force him to bargain for a doctor.

It didn’t matter. Without doubt, he still was better off than most of the wounded, so he really should stop wallowing in his misery.

He swallowed thickly, noticing how dry his throat was. There was a jar of water on the bedside table, and he took a hesitant sip, unwilling to trust anything Idalis had given him. He was hungry - he hadn’t had anything to eat since his capture, except a slice of bread a dungeon guard, one of his own, slipped him when none of Idalis’ people were looking, and he didn’t really know how long it had been. He had barely noticed it at first through the fear for his loves and the humiliation of being manhandled home into his own castle, but by now it was almost painful.

He would have supper with the king, they’d said. He wondered, bitterly, whether Idalis would enjoy watching him try to stay dignified in front of a meal fit for a king, while he was so starved.

He forced a deep breath, dressed himself, and sat down in the chair by the window to await whatever Idalis had in store for him. He couldn’t lose his head now, whether from fear or from hunger; Lint’s and Nelisa’s lives might hinge on his actions.

He was glad he had been quick, because it wasn’t long before the door opened after a brief knock not waiting for a response.

Once more he was escorted by guards, this time into the dining room.

He had half-expected it to be filled with sneering faces Idalis had assembled, ready to watch him flounder in a desperate attempt to protect all he loved.

Instead, the room was almost empty. Only two people sat at the table.

He was led forward to its head, and forced onto his knees; not that it took much forcing - he hated how pliable he was being, but he had to put his loved ones’ safety first, and that meant not angering the man before him.

He forced himself, despite his fear, to look up at the man sitting in his father’s place, where he himself had only sat so briefly. All these deaths on the battlefield he had decided were warranted to protect the rest of his people, and now it had all been for nothing. Fresh tears caught in his throat, but he forced them down; he would not give the conquerer the satisfaction of seeing him weep.

Idalis stared down at him like a hawk, shifting slightly as he examined his prey. He was startlingly young, younger than Arracen himself - he knew this, of course, when he was still a hostage, he had heard the king laugh off this child-king of a distant land; but that was before they all learned better, before the insatiable young man marched across one border after another. On the right-hand seat, a man that could only be Cassio sat and examined him as well, less like a hawk, more like a cold-blooded reptile.

»I was too busy to think of what to do with them, so I just left them where they were,« Idalis explained, then smiled too smugly for comfort. »I guess you can stay here with them. Since you’re considering.« His smile slipped when his eyes flickered to Arracen’s arm. »And I will make sure a doctor will see you. I expect you to recover well.«

Arracen couldn’t decide whether that was an order, a threat, or a simple statement - it was all a bit too much to keep up. He decided to take it at face value. »Thank you.«

He thought he saw the ghost of a smile flicker over Idalis’ face.

The door opened, and Arracen’s anxiety reached its peak. Were they-?

»Arracen!« Nelisa rushed towards the door, her voice catching in her throat, then she stopped and, uncertainly, bowed to Idalis, who had stayed behind him. »Your Majesty.«

»Nelisa.« Arracen all but fell into her arms, pulling her close, only opening one arm to also pull in Lint when he approached a little more cautiously. He had done his best to keep his composure the entire evening, but it was gone now, he couldn’t wait a moment more.

It was all he could do not to ask whether they were okay while Idalis was right there, after he had already told him so, as if he doubted his word.

They seemed alright, at least in bodily condition.

»I suppose I will leave you, then.« He looked around to see Idalis smile, and again, it appeared strangely genuine. »I expect your decision in the morning.«

In the morning.

Not all that much time to consider, then. But at least he would have opportunity to consult with his lovers. Not his advisors, but then, it was only too easy to imagine why Idalis wouldn’t want him to.

»I understand,« he said quietly.

»Good night,« Idalis said to him, still smiling, before he turned deadly serious with startling suddenness. »For the sake of all of us, don’t try to leave the castle grounds, will you?«

As soon as the door fell closed behind him, Arracen, Nelisa, and Lint all started talking at once.

»Are you alright?«

»You’re injured!«

»Where have you been?«

»What has he done to you?«

»It’s so good to see you again!«

»I was so worried!«

Even Arracen himself wasn’t sure later who had said what in that flurry of love and worry, but it was Nelisa, ever practical, who put an end to it with a soft laugh, the most comforting sound Arracen thought he’d ever heard. »Enough, enough! Let’s take turns.«

None of them were quite willing to let go of one another, so it was a bit of a challenge to maneuver to sit on the bed. Arracen held them close on either side, their arms wrapped around him, the burning in his arm, having been jostled in all the huggery, negligible compared to the warmth and relief seeping into him.

»Are you okay?« Lint began, looking up at him wide-eyed. »You’re injured.«

»It’s not - it’s just a scratch, I’ll be alright.« Arracen swallowed. He barely knew how to begin telling them about what had happened, so he jumped right in. »He wants to marry me.«

Nelisa gasped. »And-?«

»Are you two alright?« Arracen felt bad brushing over Nelisa, but he had to know. »I didn’t - didn’t know what had happened - what he’d done to you-«

»We’re alright, we’ve just been in here.«

»He thought I was a pet,« Lint said quietly.

»He - he said something like that, that he thought I kept a pet.« Arracen studied Lint’s face - it must have hurt, after struggling so hard not to be one. »But you’re not,« he reiterated what he had told Lint a thousand times, and would tell him a thousand more if that was what it took to make him sure of it.

Lint nodded, and whispered, still spooked at the memory, »I told him that.«

Arracen beamed at him. For Lint to tell that a total stranger - a very powerful stranger at that; being the best thing Arracen had heard in weeks was an insultingly low bar for that. He kissed the top of Lint’s head. »I’m glad you did. And not just for your sake,« he added. »He was… he kind of implied he was upset with me because of - because he thought that.«

»Did he hurt you?« Nelisa almost shouted.

»No, I - he put me in the dungeons but nothing worse than that.« It was bad enough, by far. Maybe they would talk about it later, what it had been like, to sit there alone and frightened and desperate without knowing what would become of them. But not now. Now they were all safe.

Nelisa eyed him a moment, as if she knew there was something he wasn’t telling them, but then picked up the other subject he had so unceremoniously dropped. »And now he wants to marry you?«

Arracen nodded wearily. »He… wants to gain the people’s support.« It felt all wrong. Wasn’t he betraying them, then, by seemingly endorsing that man? But then - if it would gain him the right to rule again, be a protective layer between them and Idalis - wasn’t it the right thing to do?

»And we both need an heir sooner or later,« he continued, quietly. This one seemed awfully right, an inescapable truth.

»And you?« Nelisa asked quietly. »Do you want a child by him?«

He hadn’t even looked at it this way, he realized. He had been too caught up in worry about the immediate consequences to consider that heir they had talked about as his child. With Idalis sharing fatherhood, would he be able to raise them to be a good, responsible, caring monarch to his people? Or would they become a glory-hungry conqueror like Idalis? How much say would Idalis even leave him in the matter?

Would either of them be a good father?

»I don’t want a child at all,« he muttered, but shook his head as soon as the words came out. No, that wasn’t quite right - he very much did want to raise a child, he always had. Children, even. »No, I mean, I just… I don’t want to…«

He had resigned himself to the fact that he couldn’t have one without going through the ordeal most fit to remind him of his bodily condition. Sure, he could adopt all the wards he wanted, but he would have to bear an heir anyway. His plan had been - when he couldn’t put the thought out of his mind - to find some nobleman, or perhaps, if he dreamed boldly, a noblewoman sharing his situation and understanding all the better, whom he could grow fond of and who would respect him for what he was outside of King. Then get it over with with the least suffering possible.

It still seemed a lot. And now… he didn’t know how Idalis would treat him, and he certainly didn’t like the man; the fact he barely even had a choice in the matter was just the icing on the cake.

He couldn’t leave his people to whatever ruler Idalis saw fit.

He buried his face in Nelisa’s shoulder, wishing he could just stay there, safe between them, forever.

But he couldn’t, because there was a knock at the door.

He could feel Nelisa straighten up, and he was confused himself for a moment before he remembered. »Oh! He said he’d send a doctor. Come in,« he called, getting up; there was no way around it.

Razolf grabbed him roughly under the chin, purposely digging into bruises with sadistic glee.

Idalis didn’t give him the satisfaction of crying out. There were much worse pains in his body even now. And he knew he looked miserable enough anyway when he caught sight of Razolf’s grin.

»Look at you! What a good little dog you have become.«

Idalis said nothing; he hadn’t been given permission to speak, so he wasn’t even sure whether the slap breathing another wave of burning pain into his cheek was a punishment, or just a whim.

»I think you’re good and ready to serve at the banquet I’m having tonight.«

The mention of a banquet alone made Idalis’ stomach growl, and Razolf chuckled darkly.

Then he leant in. »You’ll be nice and well-behaved, do what you’re told, and not speak a single word. Every step out of line will get you an hour in the well. Do you understand?«

Idalis swallowed. He was not a coward. He wasn’t. And yet the mere mention of the well sent a shiver down his spine he could barely hide. He tried to cling on to his famed bravery, tried to think of ways to use this to his advantage, to escape.

But the thoughts remained faint and abstract, and burning shame at it joined the pain in his guts where he had been punched over and over earlier.

»Yes.«

The second slap hit him hard enough to snap his head aside; he barely managed to stay up on his knees. This time, he did cry out.

Razolf grabbed him a little lower, dangerously close to his throat. »What, little rat king?«

»Yes, your majesty,« he breathed, the words leaving a clinging sense of disgust in his mouth. And yet, with all disdain, he couldn’t help the fearful leap of his heart at the sudden attack. He could have screamed - with frustration, with despair, with fury.

Razolf smiled. »Very good. Let’s get you ready.«

* Cassio was not looking forward to the evening in the least. Razolf was going to hold a banquet, at which he, the little trophy Razolf had won off Idalis, would be paraded in front of all the wealthy and noble of the whole kingdom and several from its neighbours.

He had gifted Cassio clothes he wanted him to wear, with a sparkling, quizzical eye and a, »I hope you like them, dear,« to which Cassio could only smile sweetly and thank him profusely.

They were richly made, thickly embroidered, plenty of the best of fabrics - all in the colours and motifs of Razolfs crest. Had he had a gold-threaded »mine« emblazoned onto them, it would not have been less subtle.

Yet he had to obey. Winning Razolf’s trust was the only chance he had to get them both out of here - him and Idalis.

The King - his true king and love - was always on his mind. It had been weeks since he last saw him, when Razolf had had him publicly whipped until he broke down in front of all, and there was no telling when he would see him again. He would not get to wear clothes that befit him, or even kept him warm. While Cassio would feast, he would hunger on prisoner’s rations in the dungeons.

It was enough to make Cassio sick. He dreamt he had the power to just pull the castle stone from stone until he found Idalis, wrap him in his arms and never let him go again. But that was foolish; it wasn’t even what Idalis would want.

He would want revenge, and to show that his strength was unchanged.

Cassio so hoped that was true. Idalis’ cries from that whipping still haunted him every waking moment, and in many of his dreams.

It was maddening that all he could do was don the clothes that said Property of Razolf, and force a smile when after a brief knock, Razolf himself entered.

»You look stunning,« Razolf said, and Cassio endured his leer, leant into his hand on his cheek, permitted the hateful kiss and the hand grabbing his ass.

»You flatter me, your Majesty.«

»Shall we?« Razolf offered him an arm as if he were a feeble boy unsure of his manners, and led him to the banquet hall.

The guests were already assembled, and rose for their king. Cassio was given his left-hand seat, well within reach, he was acutely aware, of his wandering hands.

»Thank you, friends,« Razolf began after gesturing for all to sit, which they did like obedient dogs. »It is a joyous occasion indeed that brings us together here, the defeat of a boy whose mommy didn’t teach him better than getting a little too greedy.«

The assembled guests laughed, and Cassio forced out a snicker. If he is a boy, he thought idly - anything to distract himself from the picture he knew he made next to Razolf - then what am I, at his same age, doing in your bed?

»I have a special treat for you tonight.«

Cassio barely heard the rest of his speech when, upon his words, a servant - no, a slave - entered. There was no reason Cassio should have been able to recognize him as quickly as he did, with his haggard frame and bruised face and meek manner. But his heart cried out as soon as he laid eyes on him.

Idalis - for at second glance Cassio was sure it was him - barely looked up at the assembled company, only stealing a quick glance, yet Cassio felt certain he had seen him. He was wearing nothing but a waistcloth and a cover of bruises and cuts and welts. And, worse, he started to serve the table without hesitation, without the slightest sign of defiance, stony-faced and silent.

It had to be an act. Like Cassio, he must be doing what he needed to do to succeed eventually, even if Cassio didn’t know how. But he could not bear the thought that this was what his love was reduced to, and he needed to keep it together, keep his own act up. Already he could feel Razolf’s hand on his thigh as he leant in too close.

»What a sight, isn’t it?«

»I was under the impression you kept a human pet,« Idalis said abruptly, dipping his bread into the rich broth that had been served. »I’ve since been informed of the situation. It seems we are on the same page about this matter.«

Arracen’s mind, still reeling from the absurd accusation, raced to figure out what Idalis was trying to tell him. Was he trying to make him feel secure? Preparing to pull the rug by telling him this was their only common ground and so Arracen was currently having his last meal?

He had - at least heard about, if not met, Lint. Something must have happened, for better or for worse. That was, really, the only thing that mattered.

He couldn’t fuck this up, for his and Nelisa’s sake. »I’m glad to hear that.« Have you met Lint? Is he alright? What have you done with him?

»He’s fine.« This time Idalis smirked, and Arracen couldn’t keep looking at him, knowing how transparent he was. »He and your other lover.«

Nelisa hadn’t had the good sense to escape, then. He was momentarily overwhelmed with a mixture of terror and selfish relief, but he had to focus. There it was - the threat was coming, he could feel it, as inevitable as a monster approaching a ship at sea. Idalis was just about to tell him what he would need to do, what more of his dignity he would have to trade away, to keep it this way.

The worst part was that he would do it. Of course he would.

»But that wasn’t what I wanted to talk to you. I have a proposal to offer you.«

Oh, of course. A proposal. If Arracen hadn’t been so hungry, his appetite would have abandoned him at the duplicity. »I’m listening.« What else could he say?

»I purpose to marry you.«

For a moment, Arracen could only stare in shock. One among the two of them had lost his mind, there was no other explanation. »I beg your pardon?« he finally choked out.

»I wish to marry you.« Idalis set his cutlery down. »Your people love you, you know that. It will be easier for me, and them, if they learn to love me also, and what simpler way to achieve that than through you? And further, I will need an heir sooner or later. That is to say, a consort that will carry them.«

Arracen swallowed thickly. It was always going to come to this; he had known that his whole life. If there was one thing royals did not get a choice in, it was the matter of producing an heir. It had been easy to put it out of his mind, for a time.

But maybe he shouldn’t have.

Then it wouldn’t have hit him like a horse’s kick to the chest now, when everything hinged on his reaction.

»If you agree, and I find you trustworthy, you may rule this your country in my stead while I’m away. Your lovers will be safe - I won’t mind them-« his eyes flickered to Cassio, »-as long as the child is mine, and so long as my husband cares for them, I will protect them like family.« There was a genuine softness to his voice for a moment, before he sobered up. »And you are also royal. You, too, will need an heir sooner or later. I am offering you a mutually beneficial arrangement.«

Arracen still couldn’t find words. All his lessons in diplomacy and rhetorics, swept away by the notion that, in fact, he could not and would not lead the life of a man given a body that fit.

Idalis gave a small huff. »Let me be clear, I am proposing to take you as my king consort, not my queen. You can have all the moondew you want after you give me an heir; it will be easy, now that we can work on rebuilding the trade routes. But I do need an heir and - I like men. Which makes you the preferred candidate, politics aside.« His voice trailed off, and for the first time, his gaze did too.

It was true, Arracen reckoned. There weren’t many male royals with a womb, not that he knew of. The argument made his heart a little lighter, even; Idalis was choosing him because he was a man, not in spite of it.

Not to spite him.

He had heard of moondew - that fairytale substance that could transform someone’s body to match their soul. It wasn’t really a fairytale, but it might as well have been in the chaos of the past years, with him going to be a hostage at Thobrinos’ court, and then the war Idalis started messing up all the trade routes from the west.

Eliphion, the country that was truly Idalis’ own, held the largest known sources. He wasn’t making an empty promise, or at least he wasn’t thinking so, Arracen was willing to believe that much.

But none of that mattered; he had to stay sensible. All the sweet promises aside, he was being coerced into marriage with a man who had taken what was his, and was now offering it right back to him as if it was a great gift.

He might have to take it - that was the worst part - but he would not let Idalis pretend it was anything other. He wasn’t sure he really wanted to see what was underneath the mask, but he wouldn’t just let it slide like a helpless child. »And if I don’t agree?« His voice almost cracked over the words, and he hated it.

Idalis cocked his head, eyeing him as if he hadn’t particularly considered this eventuality. »I will appoint a steward I see fit, and you… well, I suppose I could just put you under house arrest. See to it that you don’t stir up trouble. Your people wouldn’t be thrilled to hear you’re dead, I’m sure, and I am no tyrant.«

Arracen had to hold back a snort at the last words; that was rich. »And what of… Lint and Nelisa?« Idalis had said he would protect them if Arracen married him. Which must mean-

»You really care for them, don’t you?« Idalis said softly, as if he didn’t know, as if he wasn’t holding their lives over Arracen’s head. »They could go into house arrest with you, if they so choose. Or they could go back to Skalasia. I don’t care, so long as they don’t start trouble here.«

Once more, Arracen found himself thrown off balance.

There was no threat - nothing that would make matters worse, when matters weren’t half as bad as he had feared, and an option that would make matters better.

Well, largely better.

»May I consider?« he finally managed. Part of him doubted he would be given time; surely, Idalis had purposely sprung the proposal on him like this, so he would feel cornered and make an unwise choice.

But part of him didn’t believe that any more.

»Of course.« Idalis smiled, and it looked bafflingly genuine. What did he think he was doing? Did he really believe this was a generous offer? »When you’ve finished your meal, would you like to see your lovers? Take it as a sign of goodwill.«

It was one step up from a weapon, Idalis supposed, but it was not good enough.

The rumours weren’t wholly unequivocal on the matter - some said he had taken the pet from Thobrinos to free him. But Idalis wasn’t naive enough to believe that. Clearly, his people wanted to think the best of Arracen, but soon they would see him for what he was, Idalis would make sure of it.

The next day, the exhilaration of victory had been wholly replaced by sore muscles and the dreary task ahead: rearrange the court and government, accept the loyalty of those who would offer it, decide what to do with those who wouldn’t.

Cassio had a half-smirk on his lips when, after a long day, he accompanied him back up to the King’s suite, where he had made himself comfortable. The rooms would need redecorating, too; Arracen’s taste wasn’t much of anything, even bad, just terribly dull. Maybe he was playing at modesty.

It hadn’t even been a particularly successful day. Arracen’s court wasn’t unreasonable, but they were loyal, and even those who were willing to be pragmatic about this warned that the people loved their former king.

»You hate this part, don’t you?«

»I’m glad for your help,« Idalis growled irritably, unwilling to admit it was just so. This was a part of being a king, being a ruler, and he would not let himself be called a bad one for disliking it.

»There’s one more thing.«

»Ugh.« Idalis was just about ready to drop himself into what had been Arracen’s bed, preferably together with Cassio, and forget all this for a few hours. Instead, he straightened himself. No one could say he wasn’t taking his duties seriously. »What is it?«

»Arracen’s… hm. Lovers. The two he put up in the consort’s rooms. One of them is the pet, I hear.«

»Oh! The pet. Of course.« It was a testament to how worn out he was, Idalis thought, that this had actually slipped his mind. The whole reason he had Arracen dishonourably thrown into the dungeons instead of even considering negotiations.

Compared to most of the day’s proceedings, it was downright invigorating. Surely the poor thing was frightened, with his »master« gone and possibly no one to take care of him.

»Let’s go then.«

»Maybe take a guard?« Cassio proposed in exasperated tones. »We don’t know what they might be capable of.«

Exasperated, but fond - there was no mistaking it. Idalis threw him his smile, and called upon the guards.

The fact that Cassio had spoken of two people only really registered when they already walked into the consort’s quarters.

They were sitting together by the window, holding hands, although the woman immediately got up when they entered, and let the man’s hand slip with the movement. He followed her example, his eyes wide.

There was no doubt which of the two was the pet. There was a practiced elegance to the man’s movements, with an air of submission that was hard to pinpoint, perhaps in the tilt of his head or the hint of a ghostly smile when there was no reason for one.

Deference was only right, of course, when dealing with their new king, but there was something more unsettling underneath it.

And the woman - well, she didn’t show none, she dropped into a brief bow, and she was certainly frightened, but at the same time she seemed to be steeling herself as if for a fight.

»Good evening.« Idalis eyed her curiously - she was reasonably fine-looking, but not something that would have caught a princes’ eye on its own, so he wondered what her hidden qualities must be.

Nonetheless, he was here for the pet, so he would handle her quickly and move on. »You are Arracen’s lover, then?«

She hesitated noticeably before she replied, »Yes, your Majesty.« She had a strong Skalasian accent; she, too, must have been taken from Thobrinos’ when Arracen left there. »My name is Nelisa. This is Lint.«

Lint. As if that were a name. Vicious fury caught in his throat, but for the benefit of the pet, he kept it down. He would have time to deal with the woman later - and with Arracen. »You’re the pet,« he said gently, preparing to present him with the fact it wasn’t so.

After Ainsel, he wasn’t expecting him to believe it at once, but-

* Lint could feel his heart freeze up, could feel muscle memory relax to show none of his discomfort, could feel a smile tug at his lips to protect him.

»No,« he whispered, his hands trembling too hard not to be noticeable - he was being so bad, a voice from the depths of his mind, fought down but never quite vanquished, said - but Arracen - Nelisa too - but given the givens, he especially owed it to Arracen. »No, I’m not a pet.«

He was so, so bad. He would be punished, he knew it, and gruesomely, and that would be right. This would have been one thing to say to Arracen or Nelisa - though even that thought seemed alien right now - but to this stranger, who, moreover, had already told him otherwise? He was lying, he was talking back, he was so bad.

Arracen had stolen him, it wasn’t true, he was a pet and he was being bad, and Arracen had been defeated and wasn’t here to protect him-

»No!«

He almost fliched at Nelisa’s voice. She rarely raised her voice, and right now? She had bowed to this man. Rationality hammering at the borders of his thoughts, he knew they had talked about how scary this all was, and this was the man - king - who was the reason.

Yet she spoke up; even her hastily tacked on »your Majesty,« could not take away from that.

»He is not a pet.«

He was so relieved to hear it from someone else’s mouth. He couldn’t say those things, but Nelisa, being human, was allowed.

He was human too. That was what this was all about. He was human too, and he had to remember it.

»Really?« The new king cocked his head and sized him up. »I heard that Arracen kept a pet, and you seem an awful lot like one.«

»I - I was, your Majesty.« His voice trembled like the way it never should, unless his master - it trembled an awful lot. Still, this was easier to say than the other thing. At least he acknowledged the past. »He brought me here. Arracen, I mean.«

»He took us with him when he left Skalasia.« He was glad Nelisa took over the talking. »He did not want Lint to - continue living like that.« Then she stepped forward, and fell on her knees. »Please don’t undo that, your Majesty. Take me if you must.«

Lint’s heart seemed to stop. »No - Nelisa-«

The king’s eyes flitted between them. He seemed very much like a mere human in that moment. »You’re not a pet.«

Lint shook his head. He couldn’t say it again, even after Nelisa offered herself up to save him, and he did not feel like a very good human, either.

The king spread his hands. »Well, shit.«

The lips of the man next to him - the famous Cassio, Lint presumed - twitched. »How would you like to proceed, my king?«

»Are arrangements such that you are taken care of?« The king seemed genuinely upset, and Lint could not pinpoint why. It wasn’t the sort of upset he would have expected from him being such a bad - no, refusing to be a pet.

He shivered at the thought.

»Yes, your Majesty,« Nelisa answered, sounding as confused as Lint felt.

»Very well. Stay here. You are not to leave the castle until I decide what to do with you.«

»Yes, your Majesty,« Nelisa repeated, but the king had already turned and was storming off, followed by his entourage.

The moment the door closed behind them, Nelisa rushed to Lint and pulled him into her arms.

He melted into her embrace. His heart still raced. A part of him wanted to hear he had done good, but he didn’t need to; he didn’t.

He had finally started to feel like things were looking up after he returned home and negotiated a costly peace from Thobrinos, and now this unprovoked attack from another side shattered that precious safety - and he had failed.

He could have cried, but there wasn’t time. In the middle of the battlefield, he knew there was only one thing to do, in hopes the enemy would be gracious enough to accept it. Continuing on would only mean to throw more lives away.

There had been too many already. He had failed.

His heart hurt and his eyes stung and he was sore all over after weeks of intermittent fighting and there was a vicious cut bleeding down his arm and he called for a surrender.

He rode to the front, knowing in his bones he might be killed. Even if the surrender was accepted, even if - and he hoped so with all his heart - his troops were spared, he might be killed as the enemy king.

He didn’t want to die. His whole body was screaming to run away; Petal, of course, noticed, swishing his tail and tossing his head nervously, and Arracen had to give him a reassuring pat. »It’s okay,« he mumbled to the horse, or maybe to himself. »You’re going to be okay.« That much was true, he hoped. Everybody knew the enemy king loved his horses, and there was hope he would treat Petal well.

There had been so many hopes shattered.

Arracen didn’t want to die.

The fighting had indeed stopped when his officers signalled their surrender, and a drop of relief squeezed through the fear. At least. At least his soldiers wouldn’t be massacred because he had ordered their weapons down.

He hadn’t been sure. This king had been conquering whatever he liked for no reason other than he liked to, there was no telling if he would be merciful.

In truth, he wasn’t quite sure even now. Maybe the bloodbath was yet to happen, if he said or did the wrong thing.

The enemy king had come forward as well, flanked, like Arracen, only by his bodyguards. Arracen couldn’t make out much of the man’s face behind the helmet as he approached, but he imagined he could see the spark of excitement in the half-hidden eyes.

The enemy stopped first, requiring Arracen to come to him. Idalis. He should really stop thinking of him as the enemy, when the best outcome left was that he would become his liege, the country he had sworn to protect subject to his whims. And what would become of Lint and Nelisa?

He felt sick.

He moved closer, slow so as not to appear threatening, steady so as not to appear disrespectful, until Idalis raised a hand, and he stopped like a well-trained dog.

»Kneel.« Arracen could hear the smug smile in Idalis’ voice - as if this was only a game to him, as if he wasn’t taking everything Arracen loved - but there was something more dangerous underneath it, a hardness that only made him more afraid for his people. For his beloveds.

He could not hesitate. He swung off Petal, handing the reins to the head of his bodyguard, stepped forward, and dropped to his knees, pulling off his helmet.

It was so easy; he was exhausted and wounded and desperate.

It was the hardest thing he had done in his life. There was a plea stuck in his throat, for Lint and Nelisa and his whole people. And under it, a more cowardly plea for himself.

He didn’t want to die. He was only too aware how very reachable his neck was to Idalis’ sword now.

The enemy soldiers whispered and chuckled between themselves.

The field behind him was dead silent. He should probably say something; he owed them this much.

»Please spare my soldiers, they were faultless but for their loyalty to me.« His voice came out scratched up worse than his body.

»A grievous fault, all things considered.« The king spoke lightly, as if each word didn’t plunge into Arracen’s heart like an icy dagger. No. He had surrendered to save these people. If-

»We’ll see what can be done about it.« Still that awfully light tone, as if the matter wasn’t of much importance, as if they weren’t negotiating the lives of thousands.

The cold tip of the sword caught under Arracen’s chin, and his breath caught in his throat just the same.

He didn’t want to die. He wanted to hold Nelisa and Lint close and never let them go. He wanted to protect them and protect all. He wanted to be safe, just once.

He didn’t want to die.

Idalis tipped his chin up and forced him to look up at him.

Arracen was frozen. He was not yet dead, and that was all that mattered. When Idalis, after staring down at him for a moment, took his blade back, and without further ado ordered him taken away, and a pair of enemy soldiers grabbed him by the arms, Arracen felt nothing but a dizzying rush of relief.