#wrytinge

Bertalan was sleepily dressing himself in the early winter morning. The dhampir sat on the edge of his bed, with only the lower half of his body clothed, rubbing his eyes in an attempt to get used to hazy lighting in the room. The sun couldn’t break through the thick layer of clouds overhead, which left the Knight Commander’s chamber in a gray penumbra. The room was chilly, the sturdy brickwork of the Citadel didn’t allow for easy heating, and seemingly every fiber of Bertalan’s being resisted the idea of getting out of the bed and leaving his lover’s embrace.

Daeran was a few steps away from him, mostly dressed and busy trying to tame his unruly golden hair with a brush he borrowed without asking. The Commander shook his head in fond exasperation as he watched the aasimar, unable to stop the faint smile creeping onto his face. His hand moved seemingly on its own and wandered to his chest, in search of the token of the Count’s affection.

Only to find nothing over his half-undead heart aside from his skin covered in goosebumps.

Bertalan’s grogginess instantly evaporated. He sprung from his bed, eyes wide, scanning the floor for any sign of the key-shaped pendant. He picked up his shirt, but found nothing underneath. He tossed it away with a frustrated groan then got on all fours to look under the bed.

‘Daeran, have you seen my pendant?’ He called out only to be met with an annoyed sigh.

‘The sun is barely up and you already have me toiling away,’ the Count’s voice strained slightly as he leaned down to gather his jacket. ‘You seem truly insistent to torment me with endless work.’

‘If it’s that much of a bother, I can just go about the day without your gift hanging from my neck…’

‘And deprive me of my favorite visage? Your cruelty knows no bounds.’

Daeran’s words were followed by the sound of soft, high pitched rattling. Bertalan stood up and turned to see the Count lightly swinging the familiar pendant side to side, as if he was trying to mesmerize him through the motion. Bertalan made his way to him, his face brightened by a grateful smile. He reached for the necklace, only for Daeran to snatch it away before he could take it.

‘My dear Commander, where are your manners?’ He stepped closer to him, close enough that his breath could caress Bertalan’s lips. ‘Ask me nicely.’

The Commander scoffed, his lips curling to an astonished half-smile. Daeran did not move or say anything, only his unsettlingly bright eyes were fixed on his lover expectantly. A moment passed, then another, without either of them relenting – even though Bertalan found the Count’s lips quite distracting.

‘Please,’ he spoke eventually. The tone of his voice was dull and even.

Daeran rolled his eyes at him, trying and failing to distract the Commander from his teeth clamping down on his lower lip for a fleeting moment. ‘Try again, and this time, say it like you mean it.’

Bertalan merely chuckled at that. His hand moved slowly to the aasimar’s jaw and held him gently, but firmly. Daeran didn’t move away, his gaze darted at the Commander’s thumb as he lazily ran it along his bitten lip, his cool touch soothing him. He fought the urge to let his mouth close around the dhampir’s finger with everything he had, only for Bertalan to claim his lips when he least expected. His kiss was deep, but excruciatingly languid, teasing the Count to kiss back with all the passion he could muster in the dour winter morning. Daeran blindly reached for the Commander’s hip, he ran his free hand up, along his side, as frustratingly slowly as he was being kissed, until he reached Bertalan’s chest. He gave him a light squeeze, earning a low, deep hum and Daeran could’ve sworn that he felt the sound resonating in his belly. The Commander pulled away then. He looked at Daeran with eyes as clear as a pond during a crimson sunset, reflecting not only desire but fondness so open and unguarded that it ran a shiver down the Count’s spine.

And yet…

‘Please.’

...Bertalan’s tone remained as even as ever. If anything, Daeran could hear a hint of smugness ringing in his voice.

‘Ugh,’ the Count’s groan was loud enough to echo in the room, ‘I really ought to teach you how to plead properly,’ the hand that was cupping the dhampir’s chest now pinched him, drawing a light hiss out of him. ‘You say all the right words, and yet you still sound like you’re ordering me around.’

‘Oh, you’ve got some nerve,’ Bertalan gripped the aasimar’s hips and pulled him close. He leaned in and lightly nipped at his lover’s ear. ‘I’m already being more indulgent with you than you deserve,’ he said before leaving a sloppy kiss on Daeran’s jaw. ‘You speak of manners as you take back a gift you’ve freely given,’ he placed another one on his throat, smiling at his breath hitching in response, ‘you make demands of your Commander and then complain when I meet those demands,’ he returned to the Count’s lips. Despite his reprimands, the dhampir kissed him gently, quietly chuckling into the contact. ‘You’ve been nothing but rude this entire time,’ he whispered, and yet he was unable to hide the mischief and adoration in his voice. ‘So I’ll ask one last time and you better comply: can I have my pendant back, please?’

Daeran blinked at him speechlessly a few times, trying to regain some of his composure then softly laughed as an answer. ‘Well, since you’ve asked me so nicely.’

Bertalan rolled his eyes at him as he turned away. He returned to the bed and sat down, waiting for the Count to follow. Daeran walked to him with a seductive casualness that was etched into his muscles over a decade of hedonism. He lightly nudged the Commander’s foot with his own, wordlessly asking him to part his legs for him. Bertalan raised an eyebrow at him as he obliged. He glimpsed something the Count’s eyes that almost looked like honest affection, as he glanced at the pendant in his hand one last time then placed the thin chain around the dhampir’s neck. Daeran took a moment to gaze upon his lover with the key over his heart – a key to his greatest wish that in turn betrayed his greatest fear. A wish that he was almost brave enough to voice in that moment.

‘So ethereal,’ a compliment slipped out instead but Daeran didn’t mind. He was being sincere all the same. And Bertalan had a weakness for that. He flashed a thoughtful smile at the Count, just for a fleeting moment, before he reached out for his thighs and tentatively ran his hands along their length.

‘I ought to thank you for helping me find the pendant,’ he said once he reached the base of his legs. He glanced up at Daeran, a question reflected in his eyes, to which the Count responded with an encouraging if impish grin. Bertalan shook his head, exasperated, and focused on undoing the aasimar’s trousers instead. He pulled it down with a single, forceful tug, and Daeran found himself grasping the Commander’s shoulder for stability. The dhampir pushed the Count’s shirt up just about high enough to uncover his belly, and lightly bit his side. ‘Never let it be said that I lack decorum,’ he soothed the bite by gently blowing on it, then a feather-light kiss landed on top of it. Daeran’s eyes fluttered shut as he reached down to clutch a fistful of Bertalan’s hair while he traced a trail downwards with his mouth, kissing, nibbling, licking his way down to the top of his lover’s thigh, before changing directions.

Bertalan woke up to pressure around his fingers. He couldn’t bring himself to open his eyes, but even then, he could tell it was still the middle of the night. The room was brightened by the moonlight streaming in and while the Knight Commander wasn’t quite used to his newly grown wings, his instincts to block the unwelcome light with them has been fully developed. The sheet underneath him stretched as the presence next to him seemed to have pulled away slightly, but the pressure on his fingers did not let up. Bertalan blinked a few times, trying to convince the muscles in his face to let him look ahead. His lips gently curled to a faint smile as his vision began clearing and he started to make out the visage of his beloved beside him.

A few moments later, however, he also saw the anguish etched onto Daeran’s face. The Count’s breathing was heavy and erratic, his nightmares were sending shivers down his body. One moment, he would bury his face into his pillow, flinching away from Bertalan in his sleep, while in another he’d clutch his hand with all the strength he had. The Commander reached out and swept a stray lock of hair out of Daeran’s face, allowing his knuckles to brush against his cheek, hoping that his touch would ease his night horrors. He ignored his own throat growing tighter and his mouth filling with the nauseatingly bitter taste of fear. He lifted his lover’s hand to his lips and left a tight-lipped but insistent kiss on it. A selfish part of him ached for the relief of their contact almost as much as he did for the sight of the Count being lulled into a peaceful sleep.

Daeran stirred at the pull and when he couldn’t back away from the Commander’s kiss, he finally opened his eyes.

‘Bertalan,’ he whispered his name as relief began to settle in him.

‘I’m here,’ he let go of the aasimar’s hand and leaned over him. He left a light kiss on his eyelids while he slowly slid his arm under Daeran’s waist. ‘I’m here,’ he repeated, while he pressed his forehead against his. He straightened up, pulling his lover with him, who blindly wrapped his arms around him in turn. One hand rested on the Commander’s spine, while the other came to right beneath his wing, and Bertalan couldn’t resist the urge to use those wings as their shelter, as their shield against all else in the room.

‘If you keep squeezing my leg like that, you’ll end up breaking it,’ Daeran pulled away slightly with a complaint. Bertalan retracted his wings and looked down to see his tail tightly coiled around the Count’s shin. He let out a sigh, exasperated at himself, and moved away to give his beloved some space. Daeran took this chance to get out of the bed.

The aasimar’s sleepiness was visible for the first few steps. He combed through his messy golden hair with both his hands, taming the light curls while he straightened his posture. He walked with the measured casualness and practiced dignity befitting his noble birth. Bertalan’s heart sank at the sight. He knew the Count was taught never to let his vulnerabilities show, but it’s been a while since the last time he was this guarded around the Commander. Only a few hours ago they spent their evening merrily, with a hearty meal, some good wine and conversations that came as easily to them as breathing. Now, Daeran was approaching the table, and grabbing the wine bottle. He poured whatever was left at the bottom into a glass but he didn’t drink it. He merely leaned against the edge of the table, and watched the moonlight dance on the red liquid he was swirling.

‘Do you want to talk?’ Bertalan tentatively asked.

‘There is not much to talk about,’ Daeran answered without looking at him, ‘people dream of all sorts of foolish things, this is no different.’

‘Then what troubles you?’

Daeran’s movements stopped at the the question. His face betrayed nothing as he was staring into the empty air in front of him. But there was a tremble in his hand clutching the wine glass and he slouched as if he was ready to collapse, defeated by his sorrows. Bertalan sprang out of the bed and rushed towards him, but before he could reach the Count, he answered.

‘In my dream, I was back in Heaven’s Edge.’

The words stopped the Commander in his tracks, though only for a moment. He waited for his lover to continue, and only moved when he started speaking again. He stepped with the instinctive care of a ranger following the sounds of anguish in the wild. Something in him ached when he realized this but Bertalan ignored the feeling. Daeran’s words were the only things worthy of his attention.

‘It was ten years ago, and my family was…’ the Count took a sip of the wine before he went on, his voice theatrically rising in both pitch and volume, ‘but rather than watching my mother succumb to that accursed, demonic disease, I was watching you,’ he raised his gaze to Bertalan. He looked him in the eye at first, but then he allowed his attention to wander to his chest. To the invisible wound over his heart. ‘As I said, the dream was a rather foolish one but it is hard to dismiss the fear it evoked, given that it is rooted in something very, very real,’ he gulped down the rest of his drink and for a moment, Bertalan was convinced he would smash the glass in frustration but instead, Daeran put it back on the table in a motion that was swift and almost too graceful. ‘So if you’ll excuse me, I’ll spend the night… upset, to put it mildly,’ his voice was shaky as he gripped the edge of the table, hard enough that his knuckles turned white.

‘If this is about my wound,’ the Commander closed the distance to him and placed a hand over his, ‘I don’t intend to let it kill me. You have nothing to be afraid of.’

‘I know,’ Daeran’s voice was low, ‘I know,’ he shook his head as if he could wipe the doubt from his mind doing so. ‘I just… I thought I was done feeling this… terrified of being left alone and I hate that I’m feeling like this still,’ he shut his eyes tight. ‘But you are dying and I am powerless to do anything about it, all I can do is watch and wait for… a change,’ he chose his last word with great care.

Bertalan reached out to cup the Count’s face. His thumb caressed him until he relaxed at the touch slightly, and reached up to press the Commander’s hand to himself harder.

‘I feel fine, Daeran, more than fine with you around,’ he left a kiss on his temple. ‘I promised you a future together, didn’t I? Do you know me as someone who breaks his promises?’

The aasimar hesitated. ‘No,’ he sighed. ‘by now, I should know better than to doubt you but… there is a first time for everything. If we fail-’

‘We won’t,’ Bertalan interrupted him. ‘Not if I can help it.’

‘Good, because it’s been ten years since I truly felt inspired to look forward to anything,’ Daeran leaned forward and rested his head against the Commander’s scaled collarbone. ‘I want to see nothing more than the man I’ll become with you by my side. So I cannot part with you just yet, and I especially do not want you to choose Pharasma’s court over my exquisite company,’ he looked up at him and despite his words, his eyes reflected nothing but pure desperation. But then the moment passed and those same eyes gleamed with a steeliness that Bertalan only saw once – in an echo of the young Count, right before he invited the being that held him hostage for the next ten years. ‘We cannot fail. And we cannot afford sentimentality,’ his gaze shifted to the small space between them. His voice rang with more and more rage and determination as he went on. ‘Areelu Vorlesh has to die. Burn her, bleed her dry, shove her in the Worldwound, I don’t care what it takes, just-’

As Bertalan listened, he felt a chill in his bones. Without thinking, he claimed Daeran’s lips before anger could truly take over him. The kiss was slow and soothing, but it only proved to be perfect to stoke the Count’s stubbornness. Still, he returned the kiss, and as he did so he slid a palm to the back of the Commander’s head. He let out a quiet but frustrated groan as his fingers closed around his dark hair.

‘I heard the saccharine drivel your new friends filled your head with about redemption,’ he pulled away for a moment before closing the gap again, his lips tightly locking around Bertalan’s. ‘If we find her and you feel a draconic urge to forgive her,’ he kissed him again, demandingly, ‘or show her mercy,’ he lightly bit his lip in warning, ‘you better ignore it.’

Bertalan blinked at him in surprise. ‘Are you giving orders to your superior, my dear advisor?’ He made an attempt at teasing him, trying to ease his tension, only to get pinched in the side.

‘I am being serious,’ Daeran looked him dead in the eye, ‘promise me.’

The Count’s sternness gave him pause. The Commander left a feather-light kiss on his lover's cheek, before he pulled him into his embrace. He held him stiffer than he would have liked.

The woods were quiet. The full moon hang above and its brightness turned the thin layer of clouds into a milky veil against the blue darkness. Bertalan moved silently towards an old beech, eyeing its sturdy roots. After all, those roots will have to be his shelter for the next few hours. He sat down with his back against the trunk, setting his weapons beside him and quickly muttered thanks that were not truly aimed at anyone. The bark of the tree was mercifully smooth against his back. The Commander reached for the nape of his neck, and his fingers brushed against the edge of a wound which has not healed quite yet. He was used to such discomfort – a dhampir cannot be healed with holy magics, or with the potions most people can rely on. The tools he could use to patch himself up were rare, expensive and often illegal, as such he savored every scroll, potion and wand. The cut running down his back was... inconvenient, but not life threatening, it didn’t warrant more than the potion he drank during dinner. It was a nuisance, but it didn’t stop him from volunteering to keep watch for the night.

Bertalan wasn’t sure how long he’s been sitting under that tree. Before he left for his watch, he saw Arueshalae prepare a thoroughly constructed camouflage, that reflected of her understanding of the Worldwound’s terrain – as well as her experience walking both the Abyss and the Material Plane. As such, a part of him felt at ease, knowing that it would take truly thorough and meticulous scouting to discover the camp. And the cloudy night sky made that almost impossible. Still, almost impossible was not actually impossible, and the Commander preferred to be overly cautious rather than risk the lives of his fellows out of overconfidence. Besides, a part of him cherished being out in the wild on a quiet night, disturbed by nothing but nocturnal critters. He often missed this blend of restlessness and silence in Drezen. Stillness in the city often proved to be good for one thing only: to guide his attention to the luminescence of the souls of its residents. Solitude in the forest was blissful in comparison, which made it easier to stay vigilant, to keep his senses keen on anything out of the ordinary…

...such as rustling coming from the direction of the camp.

Bertalan grabbed his bow, but didn’t move beyond that. He wanted to get a good look at the approaching figure before he took aim.

And what he saw was a familiar silhouette, surrounded by a constellation of crimes. For a moment, it seemed Daeran was merely taking an evening stroll, his poise relaxed but dignified. His squinting and his aimless meandering quickly shattered this illusion, however, and all Bertalan could see after that was a man growing more and more frustrated with himself by the second. The Commander chuckled at the sight, and put aside his weapon. He risked letting out a whistle, and hoped Daeran was the only one who heard it. The aasimar whipped his head in the direction of the sound, and his tension seemingly vanished the moment he spotted the person he was looking for. His steps were hurried as he approached the dhampir, but he refused to run. A faint, indignant sneer appeared on his face, though a smile was still trying to tug at the corners of his lips. Daeran was the very picture of feigned annoyance.

‘I see you are intent on getting on my last nerve this fine evening,’ he complained as he sat on a root next to Bertalan. The Commander, however, dragged him down to the ground beside him.

‘We can’t risk getting spotted.’

Daeran scoffed. ‘Unbelievable,’ he said as he moved closer to him. He leaned on his side against the base of the trunk, and propped himself up by his elbow. His knee lightly rubbed against Bertalan’s thigh, but he seemed determined to act like it wasn’t an intentional movement.

‘Are you going to tell me what’s wrong?’ The Commander’s voice was low.

‘Aside from you leaving me with our precious companions who snore loudly enough to be heard on the farthest reaches of the Abyss, and then hiding well enough that I gave myself a headache looking for you, well…’ Daeran turned his gaze elsewhere, pretending to think on the question. ‘If I were to regale all my troubles, I’d be talking all night and verbosity is such a bore.’

‘Mmm-hmm,’ Bertalan nodded in mock agreement. ‘That’s good, as long as you sulk silently, I can keep watch without distractions.’ He pointedly ignored him and kept his gaze fixed on the darkness of the forest instead.

A few moments passed in silence. The Commander might not have looked at Daeran but his focus was on him, even if a part of him knew better than to split his attention. A part of him that was frustrated by the rapt attention he paid to the sound of his breathing, to the rustling of his clothes against the foliage.

To his hand gliding across his chest as the Count moved closer to him.

‘How is your neck?’ His question was barely louder than a whisper, if there was any sarcasm seeping into his tone, Bertalan couldn’t say for certain. But he knew not to assume sincerity from him, especially when he showed anything akin to concern.

‘It only hurts if I turn it a certain way,’ he looked back at Daeran who all but cuddled up to him. ‘I can still use my bow, still use a blade,’ he let out a somewhat self-deprecating chuckle for indulging him. ‘As long as you don’t make me shrug or force me to look at my left hip, I’ll be fine.’

The aasimar stared at him for a moment, his expression unreadable, although something flickered in his eyes. Something akin to a realization slowly sinking in. He shook his head with a smirk.

‘Am I supposed to make do with just half of you?’ He asked mockingly as he wrapped his leg around Bertalan’s. The hand resting on the dhampir’s chest slowly moved downwards as the Count leaned closer to him. ‘You are asking for the impossible,’ he whispered as his hand finally arrived to his hip.

Bertalan swallowed, forcing himself to ignore Daeran’s warm breath on his ear, and the tingle it sent down along his spine. He turned away, determined not to make note of the light heat rising in his body along the trail left by the Count’s touches. And he definitely did not pay any attention to the leg resting between his own.

Daeran quietly laughed. ‘You’re usually better at handling my taunts.’

‘You usually know better than to tease me like this when I ought to concentrate,’ Bertalan shot him a pointed look. ‘A lot more is riding on me than just keeping myself safe, do you understand?’

The aasimar merely grinned and pulled away – so he could move on to straddle the Commander. He groaned as a response but before he could say anything else, Daeran hushed him with a finger on his lips.

‘This is all your fault,’ he whispered as he leaned down. ‘You inspire me to do foolish things.’

The dhampir pulled Daeran’s hand away by his wrist. The frustration in him started to bloom into something seething. The rational part of him wanted to believe it was anger. Anger at the Count for his insistence to get under his skin, for his juvenile demands for his attention. Anger at himself for… allowing him to continue. For letting his focus falter not just then and there under that tree, but each time he beheld the eternity of the multiverse. Daeran… had a way of making a single moment spent on the Material Plane feel just as precious. He stared up at the aasimar surrounded by an aura of starlight, he frowned at him but he couldn’t bring himself to push him away. Not when his weight on him felt as soothing as the bark of the beech at his back. Not when the heat of the desire he evoked felt so much kinder to Bertalan than his own rage.

‘What do you really want, Dae?’

Daeran’s grin instantly vanished. ‘Well… right now, I’d just like to hear you call me that again.’

Bertalan cocked his head, squinting at him with suspicion.

The Count waited for a moment, and when he recognized he’d only get silence as an answer, he gave a small nod with a barely visible smile. He let his eyes close as he leaned in and rested his forehead against the Commander’s.

‘Honestly, at first, I really was just annoyed by all the snoring back at camp. Then the annoyance turned to tension, and I left to find you before that tension could turn into nonsensical fear,’ he shrugged. ‘I thought listening to your breathing instead would help me rest easier. Unfortunately, you… you have this terrible way of making me forget my troubles,’ Daeran pulled away to look Bertalan in the eye. He seemed strangely serious and the Commander found himself reaching for his face, as if he could wipe away whatever inspired the aasimar’s gloom with a single, tender caress.

‘That does sound terrible.’

‘Indeed. If I was as much of a heartless coward as I ought to be, I would not be in this predicament,’ he sighed. ‘How could I ever forgive you? How could you make me believe that contributing to the Crusade might not be such a ghastly thing?’ Daeran let out a bitter chuckle. ‘It does not – it should not – come so naturally, and yet…’ he shook his head. ‘It all just feels like this.’

The Count held out his palm and pure, golden light emerged from it, light that meant to heal the living, and purge the undead. Bertalan wrapped his hands around his, extinguishing the glow by closing Daeran’s fist.

‘Why don’t you light up the whole forest?’ He scolded him, but didn’t let go of his fist. His thumb instinctively rubbed the Count’s knuckles.

‘That didn’t hurt you, did it?’ The question sounded sincere enough.

Bertalan shook his head. ‘I just didn’t want you to give us away,’ he lightly slapped the aasimar’s thigh. ‘What were you thinking?’

Daeran didn’t answer, at first. His thighs hugged the Commander a little tighter as he leaned in. Bertalan thought that his kiss was uncharacteristically shy, but that notion was shattered when he pulled away and the dhampir could glimpse the challenge in his eyes. A challenge he should have ignored. A challenge he was most eager to meet. His hand clamped onto the back of Daeran’s head as he pulled him on his lips again. He felt a smile creeping onto the Count’s face, and something about the sensation sent a gentle tingle down Bertalan’s spine. His blood was rushing down in his body, urged by a need for his lover and yet his lust felt as comforting as a serene night at home.

‘You are an utterly vexing and perplexing creature,’ Daeran said when Bertalan pulled away to undo his trousers.

‘You are not wrong,’ the Commander fought every fiber in his being in order to avoid reaching for the aasimar’s bulge. Instead, he slid a hand under his shirt and slowly ran it up along his side. He felt his muscles tense up under his touch, as the Count lightly arched his back. The dhampir sat up and craned his neck towards him, a smile brightening his face. ‘Do you want me to stop?’ He asked in a whisper, as he cupped his chest.

Daeran grinned down at him. ‘My dearest Commander, you haven’t even begun.’ His teasing was followed by a sharp gasp when the dhampir answered with a light squeeze. ‘Oh, do go on.’

Bertalan let out a voiceless chuckle. The rational part of him screamed in the back of his skull, warning him of the potential danger they faced. But that voice was drowned out by the sound of his heartbeat in his ear, and the soft moan of his lover as he pulled his erection free.

‘Do keep it down for me, will you?’ He said then spat in his palm. ‘Get loud enough and I might just stop,’ he warned Daeran as he began stroking him.

The Count bit his lip to suppress a whimper. ‘I do enjoy this side of you,’ he spoke breathlessly. ‘I like it when your passion is tinged with… just the right kinds of threats.’ He clamped a hand on his mouth as he watched Bertalan’s hand move up and down his length. His pace was steady, inviting, almost playful and Daeran was quite familiar with such a game. He laughed softly as he undid his shirt, exposing his leanly muscled chest, and leaned back, using the Commander’s legs as leverage. He began thrusting into Bertalan’s hand, letting the moonlight cast soft silver onto his bronze skin.

Bertalan was mesmerized by the aasimar’s visage. He watched his chest heaving, his neck straining as Daeran threw his head back in ecstasy. His free hand trailed his lover’s belly as it rolled with the bucking of his hips, and without thinking, the Commander began moving with him. He suppressed a curse as pleasure began lighting up his nerves and leaned forward. His mouth latched onto Daeran’s chest, letting his flesh muffle his groans while he feverishly lapped at his nipple.

‘Bertalan,’ the Count quietly moaned his name as he grasped his hair, trying to hold on to whatever was left of his composure.

‘What did I tell you about keeping quiet?’ The Commander pulled back long enough to claim Daeran’s lips. ‘Don’t make me stop… don’t you dare… not now…’ he whispered against his mouth, his lips trembling in arousal. He left a trail of kisses along the aasimar’s jaw, right to his ear and lightly bit down on it, trying to keep himself silent. ‘I really… really need to feel your cock against mine,’ his admission felt like a weight being lifted off him and hearing Daeran’s laughter in response sent his heart soaring.

‘You become such a sweet-talker during our trysts,’ he joked as he left a kiss on Bertalan’s forehead. ‘Allow me, I can look down at your left hip.’

Bertalan chuckled at that, and allowed Daeran to push him back against the tree trunk. He welcomed the reprieve of stillness, but the anticipation was tearing him up from within. His gaze was fixed on Daeran’s flushed face, the hunger in his eyes, his devilish grin as he laid eyes on the Commander’s erection.

‘Forgive me, I must,’ the aasimar said as moved away and leaned over Bertalan’s lap.

Before the dhampir could respond, his tongue was already pressed against his shaft, moving along its length excruciatingly slowly. Soon he was enveloped by the wet warmth of Daeran’s mouth. He bit down on his knuckles, ignoring his fangs piercing his skin, trying to quiet the moans Daeran was drawing from him with the movements of his head. It took all of Bertalan’s being to stop himself from grabbing the Count’s hair and claiming his throat for his pleasure. Instead, he threw his head back against the tree behind him and focused on the murky darkness beyond the canopy, doing what he could to stop himself from coming undone. Thankfully, Daeran merely wanted a taste of him, and it wasn’t long before he pulled away and left a deep, sloppy kiss on Bertalan’s lips.

‘You are exquisite,’ he said as he straddled the Commander once more.

The feeling of Daeran’s cock throbbing against his sent Bertalan’s head spinning. He sat up straight, grabbing the Count by his hips and thrust up. The sweet friction drew a light hum out of Daeran. He waited for a few moments, trying to get a sense of the Commander’s rhythm, then reached down to press their shafts closer together while he started moving in tandem.

‘You are exquisite,’ he repeated, unable to think of a better word to describe the man under him, the feelings he evoked, the sensations that threatened to overwhelm him. Daeran’s free hand came to Bertalan’s cheek, his thumb reflexively moving towards his mouth. The Commander angled his head to close his lips around his finger and the sight of it nearly drove Daeran over the edge. His eyes fluttered shut and he rested his forehead against the dhampir’s. Their movements grew hurried with their hunger for each other, with their desperate need to find release in each other’s embrace. Daeran continued to whisper sweet nothings into the small space between them, even as he began slurring the words, even as he seemed to have forgotten about everything but Bertalan.

‘Dae...’

If the Commander said anything else, Daeran didn’t hear it. His climax washed over him in waves and if Bertalan didn’t grip him as firmly as he did, he probably would have collapsed onto him. He buried his face in the nape of the Commander’s neck, and the edge of his wound became the anchor that pulled his awareness back to himself. He was just about to calm down when he heard Bertalan’s breath hitch, followed by the feeling of his seed spilling onto his lap, mingling with his own. He moaned into Daeran’s jacket as he rode out his ecstasy, his hands roamed along his back insistently, as if he needed the reassurance that their pleasure wasn’t just a figment of his imagination.

Shortly after, the Count climbed off his lover and sat beside him. Their legs sprawled out, their chests were heaving as they calmed themselves. Daeran was beaming at the Commander, radiantly as if he was aware of the glow of his aura and he was determined to outshine it. Bertalan sighed, rationality slowly overtaking his thoughts once more. He scanned around, looking for any changes in his surroundings and a tinge of guilt welled up in him.

‘Bertalan,’ the aasimar spoke his name softly, turning his attention back to him. For a few moments, Daeran didn’t continue he just gazed at his lover with a soft smile hiding in the corners of his gleaming eyes. ‘I keep forgetting how to be afraid around you.’

The woods were quiet. The night breeze gently caressed the foliage and goosebumps were forming on Daeran’s chest in its wake. He hurriedly dressed himself, somewhat awkwardly trying to protect himself from the chill. Bertalan couldn’t help but smile at that, and before he knew it whatever bitterness was rising in him, dissipated without a trace.

The tavern was bustling, with the snow that has been slowly falling throughout the evening, many sought out the comforts of the establishment. Both the comfort of a warm shelter against the winter night and the comfort of companionship. Daeran mainly just wanted to drown his frustrations in booze.

After the sacking of the Ivory Sanctum, the Crusade has come to a brief standstill, waiting for the Queen’s reinforcements to proceed with the attack on the Midnight Fane. But Galfrey was taking her sweet time and Knight-Commander Bertalan was a restless sort. It didn’t take long for him to ready his forces, which left him idle for too long for his own good. After a few days, he gathered a party and left Drezen. And Daeran was left behind. He emptied his glass and ordered another round.

The Count was baffled, both by Bertalan’s decision to sideline him so, and by himself for feeling so… upset, maybe even offended by him. He was a capable healer, after all, and the Commander relied on him heavily for that reason. Ever since Daeran volunteered to aid the Crusade, he was practically inseparable from the Commander. It was a bond that was annoyingly exhausting, but also quite flattering. Then that bond grew into something different, exhaustion turned into something light and sweet, flattery became something substantial and affectionate. Like the smell of roses and the taste of Kyonin berry wine. The Count groaned at the simile. It was bad enough that sex would inspire him to write atrocious poetry, but now he couldn’t even curse Bertalan without comparing his eyes to the color of the sea at dawn or his smile to the warmth of late summer nights. He took a large gulp of his drink, and winced at the flavor. Why did he have to order Kyonin berry wine?

Daeran couldn’t help but recall his last birthday party at Heaven’s Edge. Bertalan spilled some of that wine on him. For someone so capable, the Commander was certainly a clumsy buffoon at times, the Count thought, suppressing a chuckle. Whether he intended it or not, the mishap did give Daeran a few moments of privacy during the party. And like a fool he spent most of them writing a note that was a testament to his nonsensical longing. He muttered a curse as he reminisced then took a sip of the wine. All he could think of back then were those crimson eyes fixed on him as he lectured him about the architecture of his ancestral home. A boring subject and yet… he was more than happy to indulge him, answering his questions, solely because of the way he was looking at him. His curiosity was devoid of judgment or scrutiny. His attention was neither controlling or suffocating. But it was also clear he could not care less about the many reconstructions of Heaven’s Edge. For a brief moment, the thought of being seen didn’t seem so terrible. And that realization was followed by a wave of foolish, dangerously selfish yearning, bad enough to make the Count put quill to parchment. What he wrote was a wish he didn’t dare ask of the Commander: remember me. It’s not like Bertalan would ever find that note, Daeran thought as he swirled the wine in his glass. He hid it in a secret compartment, then turned the key to it into an intricately ornamented pendant. That pendant was now hanging from the Commander’s neck but he didn’t seem to figure out what it was.

The Count’s musings were interrupted by commotion in the tavern. A new guest entered, and the rank and file in the room sprang to their feet at his sight.

‘At ease,’ Bertalan’s voice filled the room, his footsteps were heavy and resolute as he made his way straight to the bar where Daeran was sitting. A broad palm landed gently on the Count’s back as the Commander took a seat next to him. ‘Finally,’ he spoke softly, ‘I’ve been looking all over for you.’

‘How very thoughtful of you. I’m flattered that you deigned to grace me with your attention,’ Daeran said, barely glancing at the dhampir next to him.

Bertalan scoffed. ‘I missed you, too.’

The Count rolled his eyes as he swallowed the last drops in his glass. From the corner of his eye, he saw the bartender approach the Commander who shook his head instead of ordering. He refused to turn to him fully.

‘Are you not going to ask about my trip?’

‘I doubt it was particularly interesting, given that I wasn’t there.’

The Commander chuckled at that. ‘True,’ his voice rang with affection, ‘however, I did figure out your puzzle.’

This caught Daeran’s attention. He blinked at him, surprised. ‘What puzzle?’

Bertalan answered by taking off the pendant hanging from his neck. He placed it on the bar between Daeran and himself and the Count could feel his stomach drop. ‘I nearly drove myself insane, trying to figure out what this might open,’ he traced the links in the necklace with a calloused finger. ‘You could’ve given me a hint or two, you know.’

‘Had you asked, I would have told you that the key was a metaphor and so was the lock,’ Daeran shrugged. He knew there was no point in lying at this point, but deflection and denial have been etched into his very being.

Bertalan merely smiled at him and took a folded piece of fine, pristine parchment out of his pocket then put it beside the pendant. ‘Luckily, I remembered finding a lock with seemingly no key back in Heaven’s Edge. It was embedded into one of the newer walls. And wouldn’t you know it? I found a hidden compartment, with a message inside.’

Daeran said nothing. The Commander’s smile faded but not completely, he leaned closer and asked quietly. ‘Why did you hide this from me?’

‘I wrote it on a whim. I didn’t think about it much so there was no point to handing it over,’ the best lies were the ones with a modicum of truth. Daeran knew this well. In truth, he knew his wish was best left unsaid. Had the Commander questioned why he had such desires… his revelations might have lead to something truly ruinous.

‘Mm-hmm,’ unfortunately, Bertalan was dangerously talented at spotting lies. He straightened up and took back the note. He unfolded the parchment and silently read the words written on it, again. He looked quite thoughtful, Daeran noted, and the Commander never looked more handsome than when he was thoughtful. Eventually he put away the note and hung the pendant on himself. ‘I couldn’t guess what I was going to find, if there was anything to find at all. I also couldn’t tell whether you would’ve stopped me before I found your… treasure. So I didn’t take any risks. I left you here without telling you where I was going,’ he sounded almost guilty. ‘I didn’t mean to upset you, I’m sorry.’

‘Upset? You gave me a taste of a life I’ve missed terribly,’ Daeran waved his apology away. ‘One of leisure and decadence, what is there to be upset about?’

‘Your words drip with venom, Dae,’ the dhampir stood up. He lightly squeezed the Count’s shoulder. ‘If my words aren’t enough, seek me out later and I’ll apologize properly.’

Before Daeran could dismiss him, the Commander has already turned to leave. He watched him as he made his way to the exit and left without looking back. Something bitter was coating his throat, something seething was lighting up his stomach. Anger welled up in him, not at Bertalan, not at his stubborn curiosity, not at his blasted secrecy, but at himself and his foolish pride, his juvenile lovesickness, and the lies that sprang from his lips completely instinctively. Before he knew it, he was standing. He was moving, without thinking, purely driven by a need he could not name, but one that was eating him up from within. He ignored the chill nipping at his skin as he stepped outside. He ignored his hair growing heavy with the snowflakes clinging to his curls. His attention had one object and he was moving further away from him. Daeran didn’t realize that he started running. Bertalan was just about to turn down a narrow alley when he heard the Count getting near. Right as he turned to face him, Daeran grabbed him by the collar of his coat and let his momentum carry them both further down the alleyway, right against a shadowed wall. He claimed the Commander’s lips ravenously, desperately, pouring the bitterness borne of his absence into their contact. Bertalan pulled him closer, his hands roamed Daeran’s back as if he tried to hold him in every way he could. Eventually he turned around with him and pressed the Count against the wall. He pulled away just long enough to loosen Daeran’s collar, giving himself access to his neck. He kissed him sloppily, his lips caressed the veins along his neck, he savored the feeling of his pulse against his tongue and his goosebumps vanishing under his touch.

‘Don’t you ever cast me aside like this again,’ Daeran forced the words out of himself before he forgot how to be resentful.

‘I didn’t-’ Bertalan began to say but as he pulled back he was met with a glare. ‘You’ll never be cast aside, I promise you.’

Daeran felt his chest grow lighter. ‘And don’t keep secrets from me,’ he added before his anger all but vanished from him.

The Commander chuckled as he leaned in. ‘Secrecy begets secrecy, Dae,’ he teased him by lightly nipping at his lower lip. ‘I’ll be ready to be honest with you, when you’re ready to be honest with me.’

‘Lord Captain, may I have a word with you?’ Heinrix approached the rogue trader as she was surveying a report beside her seneschal. ‘Alone,’ he added with a suspicious, almost accusatory glance in Abelard’s direction.

‘I get the impression that whatever it is that you intend to discuss with the Lord Captain has something to do with me,’ Abelard answered before Serena could speak. ‘As such I would like to be present for the conversation.’

‘You would not be wrong, Master Werserian, as this is something that has to do with…’ Heinrix fell silent while he was searching for the right way to continue, ‘the events… that occurred during our captivity in Commorragh.’ He turned his attention to Serena again, and she glimpsed a flicker of anguish in his eyes just for the briefest of moments. ‘However, if I were to have you along, it would only be fair if I showed the same grace to the rest of the retinue,’ he addressed Abelard once again, ‘and I’d rather avoid a public scene.’

‘Wonderful,’ Serena handed the report she held to the seneschal with forced cheer, ‘it’s been so long since we had a proper debate, Master van Calox.’

‘Serena, please,’ the interrogator’s tone was surprisingly sharp despite his efforts to appear composed. ‘This is no joking matter.’

A moment passed in silence. Heinrix’s jaw was tight and his eyes showed the same kind of steely resolve that only ever appeared in them whenever he declared his unwavering drive to keep Serena safe. She lightly brushed her knuckles against his and she could’ve sworn that the air around them warmed up by a few degrees.

‘I’ll be right back,’ she said, turning to Abelard, before she made her way to the elevator, Heinrix following closely behind.

They didn’t speak as the platform under them began moving excruciatingly slowly. Serena allowed herself a glimpse at the man beside her. Heinrix’s expression was as stony as ever, but there was a barely noticeable furrow in his brows and his lips were pressed tighter together ever so slightly: telltale signs of his struggle to keep his rage buried deep within. The rogue trader let out a sigh and reached for his hand. His eyes fluttered shut as she intertwined her fingers with his. He didn’t notice that he gripped her so hard, his knuckles turned white.

When the elevator finally stopped, Heinrix pulled Serena in a surprisingly tight embrace. A feather-light kiss landed on her hair, then for the next few seconds all the rogue trader could feel was the interrogator’s worryingly fast heartbeat.

‘Will you finally tell me what troubles you?’ She asked, not realizing that she whispered the question.

‘In a minute,’ he said, his hold on her loosening the smallest bit, ‘I just… I need a minute.’

It felt like an eternity passed by the time Heinrix let go of Serena and the two of them made their way to the study proper. He reflexively approached the regicide board by the entrance but decided against sitting down. He turned to the rogue trader, with his arms crossed and a gaze so intense he could’ve burned her alive with it. Serena wasn’t intimidated by him, though. She stepped closer to him, straightened to her full height with her chin held high. Normally her playful defiance would be met with an equally challenging but mirthful chuckle. But Heinrix merely kept watching her allowing himself to show more and more of his sorrow.

‘I need you to clarify-’ he interrupted himself shaking his head. ‘No, I need you to refute a rumour.’

Serena rolled her eyes at him, unable to suppress a smile creeping on her face. ‘What have you heard this time?’ There are enough rumours about her to populate a star system with them, she thought, and she knew exactly how to put the interrogator’s mind at ease about them.

But Heinrix remained serious. ‘Is it true, that you…’ he looked away from her and flinched as if forcing the words out of himself was painful in its own right. ‘Is it true, that you... died… before we reunited in Commorragh?’

Serena’s smile faded. She stepped away, turning towards her desk instead. Her legs moved as if they had their own will, carrying her to it. She let out an awkward chuckle as she finally turned back, and leaned against the desk with forced casualness.

‘Where have you even heard that?’

Heinrix didn’t respond. He remained frozen in place, his gaze turning more and more unfocused with every passing second. Not even a minute passed before his breath became visible in the cold room.

‘I ask again,’ Serena’s tone was harsher than she would’ve liked, ‘where have you heard that?’ She pinched the bridge of her nose. ‘I swear, if it was Marazhai, I’ll rip out that bastard’s lying tongue.’

That drew a bitter, joyless chuckle out of the interrogator. ‘As much as I’d like to see that, it wasn’t him.’ He began moving again, taking one slow step after the other as he spoke. ‘It was not any one person. But I’m not blind, Serena. I see the way he looks at you whenever your brushes with death are mentioned. I also see Kibellah’s tension and Abelard’s inability to look you in the eye.’ When he finally reached the desk, he leaned forward and placed his arms around her, tenderly trapping her. ‘And I saw your reaction just now.’

Serena wordlessly closed her eyes in defeat. Such an obvious trap to fall into. She let her head rest against her lover’s shoulder as she took a deep breath. When Heinrix broke the silence, his tone was quiet and gentle.

‘Why have you not told me?’

‘Because you would have overreacted.’

‘Over-? You died!’ Heinrix pulled away. ‘How can you speak so callously about your own self?’

‘I could ask you the same thing,’ Serena crossed her arms and let out an exasperated sigh. ‘The fact of the matter is, that it barely felt like anything. One moment, I was negotiating with Tervantias, the next, I woke up and I was told I died,’ she shrugged. ‘But I am here, I am fine and he is dead. There is no reason to get worked up over this, so… please, can we just forget about it?’

Heinrix stared at her in disbelief. ‘No,’ he took the rogue trader’s face in his hands, carefully, as if she was evidence of a grand miracle, ‘you are the Emperor’s anointed. There is nothing out there that is worth risking your life over by negotiating with the enemies of Humanity.’

Serena flashed a weary smile at him. She pressed his hands against herself and closed her eyes, letting his touch chase away the memories of his muffled screams, the desperation they evoked in her, the impotent rage she felt upon the xenos’ haughty resistance and the weight of the gun in her hand...

‘That is where you are wrong,’ her voice rang with pure adoration. She peeled his hands off her as she rose from the desk.

‘Don’t tell me-’ Heinrix’s words were stopped by Serena’s lips on his. He groaned in frustration into their contact, stubbornly staying still until he felt the rogue trader’s hands on his hips. Only then did he return the kiss, stiffly at first but his hunger for her got the better of him before he knew it.

‘I won’t tell you a thing, Master van Calox,’ she pulled away to give him a teasing response. ‘Now, will we settle this by the regicide board or-’

Despite her best efforts, Gaura’s footsteps were heavy, and the clanking of her greaves was loud as she walked aboard her ship. She arrived late at night, only a few of her crew were still up to greet her. It has been four days since she and her companions ventured into a desert valley, trying to retrieve an artifact for the Surviving Face of Toamowhai, as a means to take on their challenges in the Crucible. The journey, however, was grueling. Harrowing, even. Only the Watcher made it out of the valley unscathed. Edér and Rekke recovered relatively quickly, and rejoined Gaura after some rest in the Temple of Toamowhai. Konstanten and Aloth, on the other hand, suffered more severe injuries. She sent them back to the Defiant and placed them under Xoti’s and Eld Engrim’s care. It was time to see how they have been faring – and to ask for forgiveness.

When Konstanten crushed his hands, neither he nor the Watcher could call on the ether through their chanting. Gaura patched him up as best she could and he followed along, with the rest of the team aiding him whenever the need arose. Luckily, the desert gave them no trouble, until late in the evening, when the group sought refuge in a cave. The Watcher’s flaming hair was the main source of light in there. Aloth followed her closely, feeling safe in her presence.

Only to fall and injure his head regardless.

Gaura’s stomach formed a knot as she reminisced – the way he could barely string a complete sentence together, his paleness, the way her light suddenly became too bright for him to look at. Then the wizard lost consciousness. And Gaura was powerless to help him. So she took the course of action that promised the greatest chance for the wizard’s survival: she left. She left and she could only hope her instincts were correct. She left and hoped that Konstanten could guide him back to the Crucible safely, if they were not. Once she arrived there with her remaining, battered companions – along with the ruby pendant that served as a lure and a guiding beacon in the valley – she took it upon herself to lead Aloth and Konstanten back to the ship. Even with the rest he took, and the chants that Konstanten could once again sing for both of them, the wizard’s walk betrayed his dizziness. The Watcher didn’t talk to him or Konstanten during the trek back to the Defiant, she busied herself singing healing chants to them as they walked, harmonizing with the dwarf. When they parted ways, Aloth took her hand, and held it tight as he left a tight-lipped kiss upon it. She didn’t feel it through the gauntlet. But she did feel the wizard’s fear in his grasp.

As she made her way below deck, Gaura could feel the flames on her back lapping against her armor vehemently. She took a deep breath. The knot in her belly loosened somewhat but it only left a bitter taste in her mouth. And her footsteps were still too loud for her liking. Her pets in the menagerie stirred, she heard them before she saw them. And then as she took a peek towards the bunks of her crew, a familiar face looked back at her from the other end of the ship.

Aloth was reading by the light of a candle when he glimpsed the Watcher. A warm and excited smile spread on his face as he sprung from his bunk. He eagerly rushed towards his lover before the soft snoring of the rest of the crew reached his ears and he remembered that they weren’t alone. He stopped for a moment, his eyes fixed on the sleeping crew shrouded in darkness. Then he turned his attention to himself, to his trousers and undershirt that he quickly smoothed down before he looked at Gaura again. There was an indescribable sense of tenderness in the look he gave her, that sent flutters down the Watcher’s fiery hair and a shiver down her spine. Guilt grasped her throat as she recalled leaving the cave but she merely swallowed and flashed a strained smile at him. But her throat grew only tighter once Aloth started moving again, quietly like a shadow, struggling to contain his joy.

‘Gaura,’ he whispered when he got within arms reach of her. He hesitated, seemingly unable to decide how he wanted to greet her properly. His relief was palpable, however, even in his silence, even as he remained motionless, only letting his gaze wander along her features, cherishing every last detail of her face.

The Watcher let out a quiet sigh, easing the suffocating tension within her. The wizard approached her without any apparent dizziness, and he could look at her directly even up close. That was a good first sign.

‘How are you feeling?’ She asked, just about loud enough that she wasn’t merely mouthing the words.

‘A lot better now that I see you unharmed,’ he cautiously reached forward and lightly cupped Gaura’s face. For a moment, his hand just lingered there, gently warming the Watcher’s cheek. Then she felt a single caress of the wizard’s thumb and Gaura let out a staggered, heavy breath. She closed her eyes as guilt and relief battled within her, blindly turning towards the hand on her face, planting one rushed, sloppy kiss on Aloth’s palm after the other.

‘I’m sorry,’ she whispered between kisses, swallowing the urge to cry with each word. ‘I’m so very sorry.’

‘As am I.’

Gaura’s eyes snapped open hearing that. The joy that was streaming off of the wizard was now replaced by a familiar sense of sorrow. She blinked at him, perplexed. He let his hand drop off her and his gaze followed it. He took a deep breath as the Watcher weaved her fingers into his.

‘Let’s continue this in my cabin,’ she suggested and Aloth gave her a few quick, eager nods.

She guided him to the seclusion of the captain’s cabin, and only let go of his hand once the door behind them was closed. Aloth stayed by the entrance, his focus was on the Watcher’s face, waiting for a word from her. Gaura, however, closed the distance between them, pinning Aloth against the wood behind him. It took her every ounce of restraint within her to kiss him as gently as she did, to fight the urge to nip at his delicate lip, to resist bruising him with all the things she was feeling for him in that moment and in the last few days. The wizard quietly moaned in her mouth. His hands found her hips and pulled her close, he arched himself towards her as his breathing grew labored with his need for her.

‘I’m sorry for leaving you behind,’ Gaura pulled away and offered her hands to Aloth, who quickly dragged her gauntlets off them. The Watcher kissed him again, lightly, apologetically, soothingly. She let her hands roam his chest, her self-discipline melting away with each long caress along his sides. Eventually she slid them under his shirt, and softly hummed into their kiss when she felt his skin warm against her palm. ‘I should’ve taken better care of you,’ she spoke against his lips, as her fingers dug into his chest and stole his breath away.

‘I should have been more careful as well,’ Aloth pulled away reluctantly to undo the straps on Gaura’s pauldrons. His fingers worked swiftly and efficiently even as his desires were clearly written on his face. He faltered as the second pauldron dropped to the ground, however, his eyes reflecting nothing but guilt for a brief moment before he closed them.‘I couldn’t bear the thought of you alone in that arena… if you got hurt and I wasn’t there when you needed me…’ he shook his head, trying to chase away the guilt rising in him.

The Watcher chuckled softly but mirthlessly. ‘I always need you, my valiant arcane knight,’ she left a kiss on Aloth’s scarred forehead, another on his cheek, another on his closed eye, ‘but I had things covered. I am here now, and I’m alright.’

The wizard looked at her once more. He smiled at her faintly as he reached for her hand through the fabric of his shirt and guided it to his heart. It was beating strong and healthy. It was beating fast for her.

‘I am here, and I am alright as well.’

Gaura let out a soft laugh that was shakier than she would have liked. Solace was finally setting in within her. She allowed her head to rest against Aloth’s, while he continued removing bits and pieces of her armor blindly. Soon, only Gaura’s legs were covered in metal still, and the wizard’s fingers were tracing the cracks running along her torso, tantalizingly gleaming through her shirt.

‘I missed you,’ he said, turning the Watcher’s attention to him again. His gaze lingered on her eyes for a mere moment before it wandered to her lips. ‘I’d like…’ he took a staggered breath as he leaned closer, ‘I want you.’

‘Are you sure?’ Gaura asked tentatively, hoping for that sweet and resolute “yes”, even though a rational part of her reminded her that he’s been recently injured and they would need to rise early the next day.

Aloth nodded, his nose brushing against the side of hers. ‘I’d like to feel you close. You were on my mind in every waking hour while I rested here… as much as I enjoyed the comfort of my solitude, I… I can’t help but crave yours now.’

‘I know what you mean,’ Gaura pulled away, allowing the wizard to cast protective spells on himself. When he was done, she placed her hands on his waist and allowed them to trail downwards, past his hips, down to his thighs. Aloth instinctively wrapped his arms around her neck just as she picked him up. She rested him against the door, chuckling at his gasp. She pressed her lips against his throat as if she could kiss the breath caught in there. She spent a moment adjusting her grip on him while he held on to her a little tighter but easing into her touch still. She then turned towards the cabin and began walking. Her footsteps were loud still, but she had a hard time caring about that with her beloved in her arms. Aloth smiled down at her, softly, wearily. He remained close, where he felt safe. The wizard left a peck on her forehead just as they reached the bed and she carefully laid him down. ‘Was that comforting enough?’

Aloth laughed, flustered. ‘Indeed, it was. But you can’t fault me for wishing for more,’ a sly grin brightened his face as he sat up, his eyes fixed on Gaura’s who followed along with his movements. She stood back and watched as he reached back for his shirt and pulled it off him, over his head. His movements were deliberate, as if he still tried to prove to her that he has healed. The Watcher leaned down to smooth down his dark, silky hair that he ruffled as he undressed. Her hand lingered at the back of his head while she admired him: the way he looked up at her in adoration even as he set his shirt aside, the way his cheeks flushed under her gaze, the way his lips parted every so slightly in anticipation.

And her eagerness got the better of her at the sight.

As she claimed his lips, Gaura pushed Aloth down on the bed again. Her tongue swirled around his, slowly, giving him a taste of what she will do next. She pulled away, leaving quick, but lingering kisses on each corner of his lips. The wizard angled his neck, trying steal – or at least plead – for another one of her kisses, but the Watcher merely laughed, sweetly and quietly.

‘Stay down, my love,’ as she spoke, the hand on the back of Aloth’s head moved, slowly trailing a path down his neck to his collarbone. ‘Let me remind you why you missed me.’

‘That confidence was one reason,’ he chuckled. Goosebumps formed on his chest as Gaura’s hand kept wandering downwards, lightly like a gentle breeze. She would linger at seemingly arbitrary spots. She would guide her hands back up to show some special care to his sides, his pecs, his belly. ‘Your tenderness was another,’ he breathed the words as the Watcher leaned over him and left a sloppy kiss right beneath his jaw. Her tongue was hot against his neck as her mouth traced a line along his throat. With every teasing moment her touch grew firmer and in turn, Aloth’s heart beat faster with need for her. ‘And your passion-’

His words got stuck in his throat when he felt Gaura’s palm against his bulge. A light brush was followed by firm caresses and it took all of Aloth’s fortitude to resist squirming under her touch, to resist bucking his hips, wordlessly pleading for more. The Watcher let out a melodious laugh. Her teeth lightly grazed his collarbone and the wizard finally exhaled, quiet notes of his lust mingling with his breath. He was rewarded with a soft squeeze and Aloth found himself clutching the sheets under him.

‘You are so lovely,’ Gaura placed a kiss on the wizard’s lips as she pulled her hand away from him. Aloth let out a sound – a complaint, a surprise and a plea bundled in a single note. The Watcher chuckled as she pulled back. ‘Show me how much you’ve missed me.’

The wizard took a moment to regain some of his composure. He didn’t realize how hard he’s been grasping the bedsheets, his knuckles felt stiff even as he reached down for his trousers. He refused to look away from the Watcher, even as he lifted his hips and clumsily dragged his clothes lower. In turn, Gaura kept her gaze on him as well. She only turned her attention to his lap briefly, before she flashed a smile at him. Aloth’s chest felt lighter at the sight and he started questioning whether he could ever come up with a fantasy that would match her radiance.

‘I missed this view,’ Gaura said as she climbed off the bed and knelt in front of it instead. The wizard jolted up, seeking her visage. ‘Almost as much as I missed your brilliance.’ She pulled his boots and trousers off him, hurriedly, impatiently. The kiss she left on his knee afterwards was surprisingly soft in comparison. Her eyes fluttered shut as she guided her mouth to the inner side of his thigh. Each bit of contact was an anchor and a lingering reminder: they were there in the safety of the cabin, they were fine, they were together. She allowed her hair to blaze against his other leg while she slowly kissed her way towards his cock. She wanted him to feel the heat of her passion and the motions of her serenity.

Aloth struggled to keep himself quiet as the Watcher teased him. His resolve failed him completely when she ran her tongue along his length. His moan put a smile on Gaura’s face. She took hold of his cock while her tongue danced circles around the head, just the way her kiss promised. The wizard collapsed onto the bed when her mouth finally closed around him. Aloth clamped a hand on his mouth while the Watcher took more and more of him down her throat, following a sweet and steady rhythm, almost as if she aimed to invite his thrusts. Her free hand moved to his hip, she caressed him with her thumb in accord with the movements of her head. One motion to soothe the wizard while the other pushed him towards coming undone. Tenderness and passion. And everything else he missed about her. The wizard pushed himself up to sit. Gaura glanced up at him, the notes of her muffled chuckles sounded beneath the noises escaping Aloth.

‘I… I love you,’ he breathed the words shakily.

Gaura pulled away, leaving Aloth wanting for a single fleeting moment, before her hand began moving around him again. She left a quick kiss on the wizard’s lips, then echoed his confession back at him in a whisper. Aloth, however, wasn’t ready to let her go just yet – he reached for the back of her head and pulled her right back onto his mouth.

‘Say it again,’ he sighed in between kisses, ‘please.’

‘I love you.’

The wizard loosened his hold on her and rested his forehead against hers. Gaura felt his breath carrying his moan on her face. She laughed and caressed his nose with hers. Aloth in turn slid his hand down her scalp to her neck, then to her shoulder, clutching the fabric of her shirt as she rubbed him faster.

‘Let me go,’ Gaura whispered, ‘let me taste you again.’

Aloth hesitated for a moment, then obliged her. Still, he reached for her hand as she descended between his legs again. He wove his fingers with hers as she took him in her mouth, trying to ground his senses while she was pushing him closer to ecstasy. He couldn’t tell how long he sat there, fruitlessly trying to hold on while the Watcher was pleasing him. He wanted to tell her how she made him feel but the words couldn’t form in his mind. He wanted to tell her of her beauty, her tenderness, her sense of rhythm but he could only allow his body to answer her touches. He collapsed onto the bed when he came undone for her. Moments stretched into eternity and Gaura finally leaned over him, kissing him deeply, her hand still holding his. Aloth felt the touch of her lips on his forehead next.

‘Rest easy, I’ll be right back,’ she said as she pulled away.

Gaura made her way to her footlocker. She barely took the rest of her armor off when she heard a familiar spell being cast behind her. A moment later she was wrapped in Aloth’s embrace.

‘You make me forget why I enjoy being alone,’ his breath tickled the nape of the Watcher’s neck.

‘You remind me why I enjoy solitude,’ she turned around to face him, ‘in your company, of course.’

The wizard smile wearily and tucked a flame behind her ear. ‘Back in the cave, I… I couldn’t bear looking at you…’

‘It wasn’t your fault,’ Gaura interrupted him before he could lay any blame on himself. ‘You were hurt.’

Aloth didn’t answer at first. His smile slowly faded as he turned his attention to the Watcher’s hands. He gingerly reached for them.

‘If we have to be apart, I’d rather have that be by our choice. And yet I can’t ignore how much hope you give me,’ he looked her in the eye again, ‘I… I’m starting to wonder if I can ever make that choice again.’

Gaura gave him a faint, reassuring smile. ‘If it’s any consolation, I don’t think I can make that choice either. I certainly don’t want to.’

‘Yet you leave me alone whenever I ask.’

‘How could I say no, when you ask so nicely?’ The Watcher chuckled. Aloth reached for her cheek, prompting her to press his hand harder against herself. She shut her eyes tight, and focused on searing the feeling of his touch into her mind. As she has done dozens of times since they first kissed.

‘Then, if I may ask,’ the wizard stepped closer to her and guided her free hand to his hip, ‘don’t leave me alone tonight,’ his lips were brushing against Gaura’s, ‘please.’

Serena’s attention was fixed on the water. She watched as blood, grime and soot slowly dissolved from her skin, turning the surface of the pool into a moving picture of cleansing. As time went on the images turned less and less vivid, until there was nothing in the pool to circulate but clean water. Watching the water usually helped ease the Rogue Trader’s mind. To look at the marks left on her by her work, from the most mundane of her toils to the ones that threatened her life, and see them all swallowed up by the voidship’s drainage system. And yet… Kiava Gamma was a nightmare of a planet to reclaim, it almost made sense that the usual tricks wouldn’t chase the distress it evoked away.

Especially since Serena was all too aware, that she wouldn’t be the only one plagued by bad dreams that night.

Her mind kept drifting back to that blasted cogitator. To the sinking feeling in her chest as she watched Heinrix step to the machine and look the forces of the Archenemy in the eye through those screens. To the way her throat tightened as he was tainted through their accursed calculations. Serena couldn’t quite explain her distress. After all, no one was there when she found that damned tome all those years ago. No one shared her agony when her soul was bared and her mind was maimed...

The Rogue Trader exhaled sharply, her face contorting into a pained grimace. She threw her head back, allowing the water to lift her fully. It was easier to fight back that distant scream growing louder in her skull this way. She couldn’t explain why. It just worked. Maybe… she shook her head, dismissing the thought of the Interrogator joining her. Even if he wasn’t so… aloof, her sympathy would be especially wasted on him now.

Anger rose in Serena’s chest as she sat up again, remembering her argument with him over a… strange, metallic creature that she managed to control. It might have proven to be a valuable resource… had Heinrix not destroyed it before it was even transported to the Charybdis. She let out a quiet groan. She couldn’t tell what was worse - the wound he left on her pride or the aching void where his confidence in her was supposed to be. A heavy sigh escaped her lips and it was only then that she noticed the Master of Ablutions watching her with unease.

‘Is there anything I can do for you, Lord Captain?’

Serena glanced around the room. The servants standing at attention couldn’t hide their discomfort. She then realized she was glaring, not at them, merely at her thoughts, but from their vantage point, it was easy to mistake her frustration as anger aimed at them.

‘Well, then…’ she said to herself, resigned, before she flashed a smile at the people around, ‘could any of you fetch Master van Calox for me?’

The servants turned pale. Their discomfort turned to fear. One servant swallowed so hard, Serena could hear it over the rushing water. When she turned her attention to him, he gave a small bow.

‘Y-Yes, Lord Captain, right away, Lord Captain,’ he rushed away, with legs so shaky, Serena wondered if he could ever make it to bridge on foot.

The Rogue Trader allowed her eyes to close while she waited. There was a light ache in her scalp, that she couldn’t ignore. She couldn’t tell if her hair just got unusually heavy while she soaked or if anticipation was getting the better of her.

‘Serena,’ her eyes popped open at the greeting. Heinrix’s face betrayed nothing as he gave her a curt nod. ‘Dare I assume, you summoned me to entertain you?’

‘I just want to converse,’ the Rogue Trader’s tone was deadpan despite the frustration turning into a lump in her throat.

Something shifted in the Interrogator’s eyes, but he was standing too far, and the lighting in the room was too dim. He made his way to the other end of the room, to one of the couches there, and sat down with a perfectly straight back. He didn’t seem particularly tense, if anything, his posture reflected patience and confidence befitting an Interrogator.

‘Do you have a specific topic in mind?’ He asked with almost unnatural casualness.

‘No need to beat about the bush, Master van Calox, Kiava Gamma gave us both a lot to discuss.’ Serena could no longer hide her tension.

Heinrix let out a quiet hum. ‘If your tone is anything to go by, this is about our earlier disagreement over the forge fiend.’

‘Those cultists repurposed the manufactorum to mass produce those creatures. We could’ve learned more about them had we studied it.’

‘Very few are equipped to conduct such studies and you would’ve handed their souls to the Archenemy and for what?’ He scoffed. ‘So you could take pride in your control over the beast?’

‘So I wouldn’t have to watch a member of my retinue expose himself to the same heresy just so he could learn about that damned cult!’ Serena flinched at her voice echoing in the room. She didn’t mean to raise it as much as she did. From the corner of her eye, she saw a servant slink out of the room.

Heinrix didn’t respond to the outburst at first. He sank lower in his seat and the Rogue Trader couldn’t tell if he deflated or merely relaxed.

‘I did my duty, I fulfilled my mission, I did what was expected of me. Of me, alone,’ even in the dark, the Interrogator’s gaze felt intense and piercing, ‘not of your enginseers, not of the rabble in the lower decks and especially not of the Emperor’s anointed,’ he sighed, turning his attention to the floor in front of him. ‘Expectations aside, I would not wish this on you, and not just because you are the Rogue Trader.’

Serena stayed silent for a moment. She suppressed a self-deprecating chuckle. ‘You do realize that your wish is a few years late, right?’ She said, quietly.

Heinrix turned back to her and nodded, the corners of his mouth ever so slightly twitching downwards. ‘I’m truly sorry,’ his tone was surprisingly gentle. ‘If I may ask… how did you…?’

The Rogue Trader laughed mirthlessly. ‘An Interrogator’s work never ends, huh.’

He chuckled somewhat awkwardly as an answer. ‘I assure you, I’m purely driven by personal curiosity.’

‘Ah,’ Serena raised an eyebrow, ‘so what I’m about to say won’t get back to your superiors?’

Heinrix leaned forward in his seat, mirroring her challenging expression. ‘Did that not cross your mind when you invited me here?’

She shrugged. ‘It did not, actually. A shameful oversight on my part.’

Something akin to a faint smile appeared on the Interrogator’s face. ‘It does feel flattering to enjoy a Rogue Trader’s undivided attention. Even if that attention stems from rage.’

Serena couldn’t help but think back to the ridiculous idea of him sharing the pool with her. She shook her head at herself, but also at Heinrix’s statement.

‘It wasn’t just rage.’

Heinrix tilted his head slightly, his curiosity clearly written on his face. Admitting anything to him felt so foolish and yet…

‘I know what you’re going through,’ she said, her tone sombre. ‘I know what you’re feeling. That sense of exposure, that feels so… violating but it refuses to go away. That feeling of being watched by a vile presence. And the screaming, Holy Terra, the screaming might just be the worst of it.’

Heinrix didn’t answer. His expression was once again that of stony indifference.

‘A nice bath can help. At least with the last bit. It seems easier to tune things out under water.’

Serena absent-mindedly moved closer to the edge of the pool. The Interrogator reflexively moved further away on the couch.

‘That does sound very nice,’ he answered, raising his palm, trying to dull the edge of rejection with reassurance, ‘but you must realize how inappropriate that would be.’

‘It’s not like we’d be alone,’ Serena gestured at the people present. Heinrix blinked at them as if he forgot about all but the Rogue Trader in the water.

‘We might as well be,’ he replied, ‘our company is well within the range of my abilities,’ he added, his eyes fixed on a servant sweating profusely, who rushed out of the room as soon as his eyes met his.

‘Heinrix…’ Serena began to lightly scold the Interrogator.

‘I never said I would hurt them, it would be wasteful when they can be put to sleep,’ he allowed himself a smile. ‘But it is a moot point regardless, considering that I must still decline your offer,' he stood up and gave the Rogue Trader a slight bow, 'as tempting as it is,’ he added under his breath. He took a few steps but turned back just as he reached the exit. ‘Thank you for this discussion, Rogue Trader. No matter how brief, our talks always give me a lot to think about.’