HLoA ch4
Special thanks to Narsus for the title input. =)
Special thanks to Foggynite and Tanahome for taking time out of their busy schedule to beta for this humble writer.
il mio artista bello
My Lovely Artist
Chapter 4
Author: RoninBrat
By the time Narsus realized what the young King had said, Arislan had quietly fled. Something the sable haired lord had no inkling of until he turned, mouth agape, “What?!”
Frantically looking around his now empty setting room, Narsus fled in panicked pursuit, barefoot and improperly dressed for roaming the halls of the castle. “Arislan?”
Hurrying his steps on the cool marble floor, Narsus embarked upon a futile hunt for the King down empty sun lit corridors. Still dressed in his sleeping attire of near-transparent cream silk trousers and a long, unsashed silk overcoat which purpose were only for modesty’s sake. His honey-colored hair flying freely behind him, Narsus searched the halls frantically. Where the blazes was the housekeep when you needed them? “Your, Majesty?”
Hearing the echoes of a slamming door coming from the royal suite, mumbling something about ‘Ashi, what are you doing to me now,’ Narsus all but ran to the corridor that led to the royal wing.
Rounding the corner, Lord Narsus slammed full body into a solid, unforgiving structure. He would have fallen had not said structure had a brain, ensnaring his body in a quick reflex of arms, keeping him upright.
Startled, Narsus let out a gasp in shock and surprise at running into anything large as this near the royal wing.
He had not expected ... well he had not thought...
Consciously beginning to realize that warm hands had gone under his coat, firmly clasping his waist, Narsus looked up to find a pair of ice blue eyes staring down questioningly at him. Narsus all but jumped out of the arms of Hermes, Arislan’s visiting cousin, and put a little more respectable distance between them.
“Prince...Hermes.” Flustered, Narsus bowed slightly at the waist, giving the Prince the respect due his station. “I apologize. I had not realized...”
“Lord Narsus. Something amiss?” Hermes managed to grasp a firm hold on the Advisor’s upper arm, realizing the other was not quite balanced.
“I-I, uh, was looking for Arislan, I mean, his Majesty. I-We were conferring when he caught me off guard and suddenly disappeared.” Realizing he was sounding like a bumbling idiot, Narsus shut his mouth along with his open silk coat, crossing his arms, to ensure it stayed shut. “I really believe he and I need to finish our conversation before the next candlemark. Have-have you by chance seen him?”
“No. I haven’t. I actually haven’t seen Arislan since last night.”
Nodding. “Oh. Uh...well, I think I’d best return to my rooms. Perhaps a messenger would have better luck.”
Yes, that was what he’d do. Return to his room, properly dress himself and prepare for all hell to break loose.
“Well, I am off in hunt of him myself. I would be willing to take a message.”
“How very kind. But...”
Hermes smiled, his eyes holding much amusement at seeing Arislan’s Advisor reduced to a bundle of nerves: a man who had faced many deaths, always self controlled regardless of the situation; a man rumored to be the Devil’s personal strategist, it made him wonder what Arislan had said or had left ‘unsaid’ put Lord Narsus in such a state.
“No buts.” The smile that graced Hermes’ face left it not an offer, but a command. He was just dying to know what intrigue was flying around the castle now.
“I tell you what. Allow me to escort you back to your rooms.” Not waiting for Narsus to accept his latest offer, Hermes, who had not released his firm hold on the Advisor, headed them towards the general direction of Narsus’ quarters. “Then you can give me your message as we go. We certainly can’t have you roaming the halls undressed for the occasion.”
Narsus had the decency to blush. Tossing long strands of hair over his shoulder, as he adverted his eyes. Nothing could be done but let Hermes take the lead, albeit a gentle pressure on his arm. “No. We can’t. Thank you, kindly. I’m sorry to be such a dimwit. It’s just not turning out to be my day.”
“I think we all have days like that.” Hermes acknowledged. Casting a glance down, he caught sight of Narsus’ chest through a persistent gap. It reminded him of the quick glimpse he’d been given during Narsus’ rescue of the floor. “Your scar. How did you come about it?”
Narsus instinctively tightened his hold on his free flowing clothing. “Lusitanian’s. Using my own tactic against me.”
“Before or after our first meeting.”
“After. Actually after Andragoras’ return. He’d sent Arislan on a fo--” barely catching himself, Narsus quickly chastened his loose tongue, “errand to rally more troops.”
Hermes chuckled. Yes, Andragoras had been a fool. And now a very dead fool.
Narsus glanced up nervously. Although the young Prince possessed an angelic face, albeit the scar, his voice always sounded sinister in its deepness. That combination alone instilled fear in many a man, including himself, a time or two. Although peace resided in Ekubatana overall, he’d found himself speculating, on several occasions, that it hadn’t taken much to change Hermes from a brutal revenge seeking Prince into what he was now; a love sick pup and a very attentive cousin.
“Does it still pain you?”
“In the winter.” Narsus allowed himself to admit. Which was more than he’d ever admitted to anyone else. Strange, that. But if truth be known, during the long winter months his shoulder, and sometimes his hip, tended to give him an ache.
“Ah. If I can remember, I will send you a salve that has always worked for me.” Hermes offered as they came to the entrance to Narsus’ suite.
“That is very kind.” Narsus swallowed visibly, still flustered at getting caught running half dressed around the private sectors of the castle.
“It is the least I can do for the Devil’s strategist.”
Narsus brow rose sharply at that, eyes the color of topaz locked onto pale blues and realized the Prince was teasing. Nervously, Narsus chuckled, “Well, not today I’m not.”
“Indeed,” came a dry remark. Leaning against the door’s frame, Hermes studied Narsus before stating, “you do not trust me, do you?”
“Trust, Milord?” Narsus feigned ignorance. The directness of the question caught him slightly off guard.
“I admit, watching you become flustered the rare few times is quite entertaining,” Hermes leaned in as if departing a confidence, eyes raking a disheveled Narsus if only as a practice to unnerve men. “But playing the fool during such a time as this is unbecoming of you. Don’t play that with me, Narsus. Never play that with me.”
Narsus acknowledged the words as he lowered his gaze demurely and when they rose again to meet levelly the intense stare of the other, Lord Narsus, nicknamed the Devil’s strategist, studied just as equally the towering man before him. “Never, Prince Hermes.” After a pause of study Narsus continued. “You, milord, have given me no reason to trust you. But I trust Arislan’s judgement.”
Hermes nodded slowly, his hard stare never wavering. His study of the sable haired man, he was pleased to note, did not break the cunning man before him. “I appreciate your honesty, Strategist.”
“Any time you require it, milord.”
“Good. Because I will require it many times.”
Narsus had no time to speculate the statement as Hermes gently reminded him that he had a message for Arislan, which reminded him of the impending disaster coming his way. “Yes. The message. Please, if you will, I need to speak to him before he makes any announcement during the afternoon briefing.” With a little embarrassment Narsus added, “Tell him Lord Narsus is begging him to hold off.” To impart a reasoning, Narsus added, “That-that the situation requires more investigating.”
Perfectly good, logical reasoning Narsus nodded with finality. More for assuring himself and more than capable of patting himself on the back had he not an audience.
Amusement returned to Hermes. Never really experiencing court life such as this, he found that he could easily get use to the intrigue as long as it remained this entertaining. “As you wish, Narsus.”
“Thank you. Thank for coming to my rescue.”
“Anytime.”
For Narsus, it wasn’t a matter of knowing what to wear to this briefing. Only that black would do. His Pars uniform. And why the uniform? It served his current scowling, dark mood and he was, after all, going into battle for what very well could be his sanity.
No. His current problem was a matter of when he wanted to appear at the fiasco. His only hope was that Hermes found Arislan and the young King was agreeable. It irked him to no end that he would have no indication until he was there, in the middle of the room, surrounded by Daryun and Quishward and only Ashi knew who else Arislan had seen fit to call into the briefing.
Moaning Ashi’s name for the umpteenth time, Narsus realized he still had not resolved his problem. Did he want to appear at the briefing before everyone else? To be able to study their faces as they entered the room? To do so might imply an over eagerness. A willingness to be corralled into something he was unprepared for. But he also gauged that arriving late might imply the dragging of feet or was that implication of defeat? But then too, he worried about offending the one person, should by some chance of fate, the rumors be true.
Narsus’ already frowning reflection deepened. There was really no choice if this was a very real possibility. Daryun was, and always would be, the love of his life. He had never allowed himself to think of that possibility with Daryun.
Imagined it? Yes.
Dreamed it? Yes.
But always accepting that it was not a real possibility. And why should he have? Daryun never showed any signs of any interest towards him beyond friendship. Always stiff, polite, cordial...especially since his whirlwind return to his life so many summers ago. What? Three...four years ago? But before...
Even before. Closest of friends the day they met. Joined at the hips when no one required them. Riding, eating, sleeping, bathing....together always. But never any indication. In fact, quite the opposite. Countless times Daryun had swept them off to a bordello to while away a night in a woman’s arms. A woman’s arms! How many times he had to fake interest where there was none? Not even in the young men available. No. Never any real interest. Not when the object of his affection was just an arm length away.
Oh, heavens. He was no saint. He would never claim to be but his heart, the one part of him he’d given to no one, belonged solely to Daryun.
Tightly shutting his eyes, Narsus willed away any and all thoughts. It would not do to get himself all worked up over an inane possibility. This was definitely a bad joke, and Arislan needed to give him time to prove it.
Leaning forward, he groaned and buried his face in his hands, offering up a selfish prayer. “Please, Ashi. I beg of you. Please let this all be a cruel joke. Let us laugh about this later. Please. I have been a faithful follower, always doing your will. Do not put me through this.”
Special thanks to Foggynite and Tanahome for taking time out of their busy schedule to beta for this humble writer.
il mio artista bello
My Lovely Artist
Chapter 4
Author: RoninBrat
By the time Narsus realized what the young King had said, Arislan had quietly fled. Something the sable haired lord had no inkling of until he turned, mouth agape, “What?!”
Frantically looking around his now empty setting room, Narsus fled in panicked pursuit, barefoot and improperly dressed for roaming the halls of the castle. “Arislan?”
Hurrying his steps on the cool marble floor, Narsus embarked upon a futile hunt for the King down empty sun lit corridors. Still dressed in his sleeping attire of near-transparent cream silk trousers and a long, unsashed silk overcoat which purpose were only for modesty’s sake. His honey-colored hair flying freely behind him, Narsus searched the halls frantically. Where the blazes was the housekeep when you needed them? “Your, Majesty?”
Hearing the echoes of a slamming door coming from the royal suite, mumbling something about ‘Ashi, what are you doing to me now,’ Narsus all but ran to the corridor that led to the royal wing.
Rounding the corner, Lord Narsus slammed full body into a solid, unforgiving structure. He would have fallen had not said structure had a brain, ensnaring his body in a quick reflex of arms, keeping him upright.
Startled, Narsus let out a gasp in shock and surprise at running into anything large as this near the royal wing.
He had not expected ... well he had not thought...
Consciously beginning to realize that warm hands had gone under his coat, firmly clasping his waist, Narsus looked up to find a pair of ice blue eyes staring down questioningly at him. Narsus all but jumped out of the arms of Hermes, Arislan’s visiting cousin, and put a little more respectable distance between them.
“Prince...Hermes.” Flustered, Narsus bowed slightly at the waist, giving the Prince the respect due his station. “I apologize. I had not realized...”
“Lord Narsus. Something amiss?” Hermes managed to grasp a firm hold on the Advisor’s upper arm, realizing the other was not quite balanced.
“I-I, uh, was looking for Arislan, I mean, his Majesty. I-We were conferring when he caught me off guard and suddenly disappeared.” Realizing he was sounding like a bumbling idiot, Narsus shut his mouth along with his open silk coat, crossing his arms, to ensure it stayed shut. “I really believe he and I need to finish our conversation before the next candlemark. Have-have you by chance seen him?”
“No. I haven’t. I actually haven’t seen Arislan since last night.”
Nodding. “Oh. Uh...well, I think I’d best return to my rooms. Perhaps a messenger would have better luck.”
Yes, that was what he’d do. Return to his room, properly dress himself and prepare for all hell to break loose.
“Well, I am off in hunt of him myself. I would be willing to take a message.”
“How very kind. But...”
Hermes smiled, his eyes holding much amusement at seeing Arislan’s Advisor reduced to a bundle of nerves: a man who had faced many deaths, always self controlled regardless of the situation; a man rumored to be the Devil’s personal strategist, it made him wonder what Arislan had said or had left ‘unsaid’ put Lord Narsus in such a state.
“No buts.” The smile that graced Hermes’ face left it not an offer, but a command. He was just dying to know what intrigue was flying around the castle now.
“I tell you what. Allow me to escort you back to your rooms.” Not waiting for Narsus to accept his latest offer, Hermes, who had not released his firm hold on the Advisor, headed them towards the general direction of Narsus’ quarters. “Then you can give me your message as we go. We certainly can’t have you roaming the halls undressed for the occasion.”
Narsus had the decency to blush. Tossing long strands of hair over his shoulder, as he adverted his eyes. Nothing could be done but let Hermes take the lead, albeit a gentle pressure on his arm. “No. We can’t. Thank you, kindly. I’m sorry to be such a dimwit. It’s just not turning out to be my day.”
“I think we all have days like that.” Hermes acknowledged. Casting a glance down, he caught sight of Narsus’ chest through a persistent gap. It reminded him of the quick glimpse he’d been given during Narsus’ rescue of the floor. “Your scar. How did you come about it?”
Narsus instinctively tightened his hold on his free flowing clothing. “Lusitanian’s. Using my own tactic against me.”
“Before or after our first meeting.”
“After. Actually after Andragoras’ return. He’d sent Arislan on a fo--” barely catching himself, Narsus quickly chastened his loose tongue, “errand to rally more troops.”
Hermes chuckled. Yes, Andragoras had been a fool. And now a very dead fool.
Narsus glanced up nervously. Although the young Prince possessed an angelic face, albeit the scar, his voice always sounded sinister in its deepness. That combination alone instilled fear in many a man, including himself, a time or two. Although peace resided in Ekubatana overall, he’d found himself speculating, on several occasions, that it hadn’t taken much to change Hermes from a brutal revenge seeking Prince into what he was now; a love sick pup and a very attentive cousin.
“Does it still pain you?”
“In the winter.” Narsus allowed himself to admit. Which was more than he’d ever admitted to anyone else. Strange, that. But if truth be known, during the long winter months his shoulder, and sometimes his hip, tended to give him an ache.
“Ah. If I can remember, I will send you a salve that has always worked for me.” Hermes offered as they came to the entrance to Narsus’ suite.
“That is very kind.” Narsus swallowed visibly, still flustered at getting caught running half dressed around the private sectors of the castle.
“It is the least I can do for the Devil’s strategist.”
Narsus brow rose sharply at that, eyes the color of topaz locked onto pale blues and realized the Prince was teasing. Nervously, Narsus chuckled, “Well, not today I’m not.”
“Indeed,” came a dry remark. Leaning against the door’s frame, Hermes studied Narsus before stating, “you do not trust me, do you?”
“Trust, Milord?” Narsus feigned ignorance. The directness of the question caught him slightly off guard.
“I admit, watching you become flustered the rare few times is quite entertaining,” Hermes leaned in as if departing a confidence, eyes raking a disheveled Narsus if only as a practice to unnerve men. “But playing the fool during such a time as this is unbecoming of you. Don’t play that with me, Narsus. Never play that with me.”
Narsus acknowledged the words as he lowered his gaze demurely and when they rose again to meet levelly the intense stare of the other, Lord Narsus, nicknamed the Devil’s strategist, studied just as equally the towering man before him. “Never, Prince Hermes.” After a pause of study Narsus continued. “You, milord, have given me no reason to trust you. But I trust Arislan’s judgement.”
Hermes nodded slowly, his hard stare never wavering. His study of the sable haired man, he was pleased to note, did not break the cunning man before him. “I appreciate your honesty, Strategist.”
“Any time you require it, milord.”
“Good. Because I will require it many times.”
Narsus had no time to speculate the statement as Hermes gently reminded him that he had a message for Arislan, which reminded him of the impending disaster coming his way. “Yes. The message. Please, if you will, I need to speak to him before he makes any announcement during the afternoon briefing.” With a little embarrassment Narsus added, “Tell him Lord Narsus is begging him to hold off.” To impart a reasoning, Narsus added, “That-that the situation requires more investigating.”
Perfectly good, logical reasoning Narsus nodded with finality. More for assuring himself and more than capable of patting himself on the back had he not an audience.
Amusement returned to Hermes. Never really experiencing court life such as this, he found that he could easily get use to the intrigue as long as it remained this entertaining. “As you wish, Narsus.”
“Thank you. Thank for coming to my rescue.”
“Anytime.”
For Narsus, it wasn’t a matter of knowing what to wear to this briefing. Only that black would do. His Pars uniform. And why the uniform? It served his current scowling, dark mood and he was, after all, going into battle for what very well could be his sanity.
No. His current problem was a matter of when he wanted to appear at the fiasco. His only hope was that Hermes found Arislan and the young King was agreeable. It irked him to no end that he would have no indication until he was there, in the middle of the room, surrounded by Daryun and Quishward and only Ashi knew who else Arislan had seen fit to call into the briefing.
Moaning Ashi’s name for the umpteenth time, Narsus realized he still had not resolved his problem. Did he want to appear at the briefing before everyone else? To be able to study their faces as they entered the room? To do so might imply an over eagerness. A willingness to be corralled into something he was unprepared for. But he also gauged that arriving late might imply the dragging of feet or was that implication of defeat? But then too, he worried about offending the one person, should by some chance of fate, the rumors be true.
Narsus’ already frowning reflection deepened. There was really no choice if this was a very real possibility. Daryun was, and always would be, the love of his life. He had never allowed himself to think of that possibility with Daryun.
Imagined it? Yes.
Dreamed it? Yes.
But always accepting that it was not a real possibility. And why should he have? Daryun never showed any signs of any interest towards him beyond friendship. Always stiff, polite, cordial...especially since his whirlwind return to his life so many summers ago. What? Three...four years ago? But before...
Even before. Closest of friends the day they met. Joined at the hips when no one required them. Riding, eating, sleeping, bathing....together always. But never any indication. In fact, quite the opposite. Countless times Daryun had swept them off to a bordello to while away a night in a woman’s arms. A woman’s arms! How many times he had to fake interest where there was none? Not even in the young men available. No. Never any real interest. Not when the object of his affection was just an arm length away.
Oh, heavens. He was no saint. He would never claim to be but his heart, the one part of him he’d given to no one, belonged solely to Daryun.
Tightly shutting his eyes, Narsus willed away any and all thoughts. It would not do to get himself all worked up over an inane possibility. This was definitely a bad joke, and Arislan needed to give him time to prove it.
Leaning forward, he groaned and buried his face in his hands, offering up a selfish prayer. “Please, Ashi. I beg of you. Please let this all be a cruel joke. Let us laugh about this later. Please. I have been a faithful follower, always doing your will. Do not put me through this.”