The Laws of Ilyria - 15/17
Title: The Laws of Ilyria (15/17)
Author: radiogaga33
Pairing: Adam/Tommy, Adam/Kris (friendship)
Setting: Fantasy AU
Rating: PG-13 (NC-17 overall)
Word Count: ~3800
Beta: sweet_poeia
Disclaimers: No claims to any copyrights, trademarks, or any other intellectual property. I do not own these characters. They belong to themselves. This is purely a work of fiction. It never happened.
Author’s Notes: None really. I'm gonna be so sad when this fic is over. I'm already getting all misty-eyed and nostalgic and hearing "Can't Let You Go" in my head. Lol.
Warnings: Pseudo-slavefic.
Summary: Adam is a conquering king hell-bent on revenge against the ruler who destroyed his life as a child. He ends up taking the ruler’s son, Tommy, as tribute after winning the war between the kingdoms. Events unfold.
The Laws of Ilyria
Chapter 15
The remainder of the day passed without incident. Kristopher kept true to his word and saw to it that Adam and Tommy weren’t disturbed any more than necessary. They slept through the morning and the better part of the afternoon, waking only to bathe and to eat, and when they did, they did so quietly, observing the day’s silence as devoutly as the rest of the caravan. But even in silence, they spoke volumes to each other. Something had shifted over the course of the night, a missing piece had finally been fitted into its proper place and the bond between them was complete. They didn’t need words. They had moved far beyond verbs and pronouns and adjectives. They spoke in a different tongue now, in the gentle slide of fingers and thumbs along freckled skin. In the sweet pressure of soft lips against the delicate hollow of a lover’s neck. In the curl of lips into a reassuring smile and the glowing response in brilliant blue eyes. And when night came and cast its cover down upon the camp, they curled into each other in their bed, and for the first time in twenty years, Adam fell asleep without wondering what dreams awaited him.
In the morning, the caravan resumed its normal activities. Adam climbed out of bed the moment the morning bell sounded and began his morning ablutions. When he and Tommy had bathed and eaten, they stepped out of the tent so that the soldiers could pack away their things and dismantle the tent for the day’s march. Adam watched with a longing look as Tommy strapped on his quiver of arrows before picking up his bow. This was the first day of the rest of Adam’s life, a life free of a never-ending quest for revenge, a life free of constant war, and it terrified him every bit as much as it delighted him. He wanted Tommy with him. He needed Tommy beside him.
“Are you alright?”
Adam shook himself free of his thoughts at the question. He tried to allay Tommy’s obvious concern with a smile. Evidently, the attempted smile must have looked more like a grimace, because Tommy’s frown of concern deepened, and he placed his hand on Adam’s arm.
“Adam, what’s wrong?”
“I was just…just….” Adam’s voice trailed off as he looked over Tommy’s shoulder and finally noticed the curious gazes directed toward them. It was one thing to reveal his doubts and fears to Tommy, but it was another thing entirely to parade his weaknesses about for all to see.
Adam stepped back and pulled himself up to his full height. “It’s nothing,” he said firmly. “You should go. The hunting party is waiting.”
Tommy stared at him for a long, disconcerting moment, eyes dark and searching. Then he nodded and walked off toward where the hunting party was gathered. Adam turned away and went about the task of bridling his horse, doing his best to ignore the feeling of disappointment and longing that had settled like a heavy weight in the pit of his stomach when Tommy had walked away.
Barely three minutes later, Adam started with surprise at the sound of his name. The surprise deepened when he turned to see Tommy standing there, without his bow or his quiver. Adam stared at him and the play of sunlight against the sapphire pin attached to Tommy’s blue tunic and gave his lover a questioning smile.
“Why have you come back?”
Tommy tilted his head a little, eyes dark and searching once again. “I’ve instructed the hunting party to ride without me today. I was hoping that you would allow me to ride in the caravan with you instead.”
The smile that brightened Adam’s face upon hearing Tommy’s words was as luminescent as the sun above them. He’d known. Without a word spoken, Tommy had guessed at what Adam truly wanted. Little more than twenty four hours ago, Adam had been fortifying himself with liquor, bracing himself for a lifetime without Tommy. And now, here he was, with the possibility of days, months, years filled with little moments like this. How had he stumbled into such good fortune?
“You would rather ride with me?” Adam asked.
“Of course. ‘Never let go.’ Remember?”
“How could I forget?” Adam replied. Then he pulled Tommy’s body against his and kissed him thoroughly in plain view of all and sundry. Suddenly, Adam didn’t care what they saw.
The road to Macedon was filled with many more moments like that. Moments of trust, of friendship, and of happiness. Tommy split his time, spending half his days riding with the hunting party and the other half riding beside Adam in the caravan. A few times, Adam and Kristopher joined the hunting party, and together with Tommy created their own formation, utterly disregarding untold decades of tradition and laughing as they did it. Adam loved those days, chasing down prey with his lover and his best friend by his side. With the wind in his hair and the soft trill of laughter around him, he felt wild and free, reborn somehow. Renewed. His old life was finished; the past was laid to rest at last, and Adam was finally able to live in the here and now, to engage in the present and to savor every last second of it.
Adam was quicker to laugh now, to joke and to smile, and his new levity seemed to feed Tommy’s sense of humor and adventure. So much so that once or twice, when Adam joined the day’s hunt, Tommy dragged him away from the others into shaded groves, eyes gleaming mischievously as he kissed Adam and made love with him beneath the afternoon sky.
Twilight brought with it more of the same. Each evening, after the caravan had made night camp, Adam and Tommy would sit down together for their evening meal, sometimes with Kristopher, sometimes alone, talking about a dozen different things. Over warm food and Syriana claret, they would engage in free-following discussions of history and politics and heated but amicable debate about questions of science and progress.
And then, there was the music. Lord Desai had presented Adam with several gifts upon his departure from Syriana, including a sitar carved from Batuuri blackwood, the rarest and most expensive wood in all the six kingdoms. About a week after the Runners had passed through the Elysian camp, Tommy lifted the sitar from its bejeweled case and began to play. Tommy had told Adam before of his facility with musical instruments, but Adam had never imagined this, the skill with which Tommy handled the sitar and the ethereal music that filled the tent and rendered him speechless with awe. With Tommy’s encouragement, Adam began to join in, singing a little and grinning like a fool when Tommy stared at him in shock and praised his voice.
“I knew it,” Tommy said, face beaming with admiration. “The first time I heard you speak, I remember thinking to myself that your voice was meant for music, not for war. And it turns out that I was right.”
Adam lowered his head, lips curling into a bashful smile. “You’re being too kind. I never sang before. I can’t possibly be any good.”
“Trust me, you are.” Tommy raised the sitar and began to play again. “Let’s try another one,” he said before launching into an old Ilyrian song, a soft sweet melody about two lovers walking through a meadow in the springtime. Adam watched him play for a long moment. Then he parted his lips and began to sing along.
But for all the moments of happiness, there were the occasional moments of silence and sadness as well. Every once in a while, Adam would watch Tommy’s eyes grow dark and melancholy and he would know that Tommy was thinking of Troianus and his father. At first, Adam would grow silent as well, unsure of what to do. But eventually, he began to talk to Tommy, encouraging Tommy to let him in, to share his thoughts and memories without worrying about hurting Adam.
“This is part of it,” Adam would say when Tommy protested. “You do the same for me.”
It was true. Tommy did the same and more for him. Whenever Adam grew sad with memories of his mother or whenever he jerked awake from the nightmares that still came, although fewer and farther between now, Tommy would hold him until Adam was able to pull himself free of the memories or the dark dreams. Adam was willing to do the same for him. How could he do anything else? Adam didn’t care for those moments of silence and of sadness, but he didn’t resent them either. Because each one pulled them closer together and strengthened the bond between them.
Everyone around them recognized the shift in Adam and Tommy’s relationship. It went without saying now that Tommy’s command was as good as Adam’s. It was to be obeyed, immediately and completely. He rode at Adam’s right hand side on the days that he stayed with the caravan and as they drew closer to Macedon, he even participated in the preparations for negotiations with the Macedonian king and in the planning sessions for replenishing the caravan’s stock and arranging necessary repairs. Adam sat beside him and watched as Tommy spoke with that confidence that some would mistake for the arrogance of princes. He could barely contain his pride when he saw his generals, men hardened and seasoned from a decade of war, nodding in agreement with Tommy’s suggestions. And not out of some sense of obligation or as part of some obsequious display, but because Tommy’s words were well thought-out and soundly articulated.
So, it came as no surprise when Adam emerged from his tent with Tommy by his side on the evening when the caravan reached Macedon and made night camp outside the city walls. They had been travelling for four weeks by then and were now less than a month away from reaching Elysia.
“Shall we?” Adam asked.
“Indeed,” Tommy replied and began to walk toward their horses.
Adam could see that he was nervous-although considerably less nervous than he had been four weeks ago when he’d accompanied Adam to the Syrian palace. He’d told Adam that he still worried about what the guests at the royal court would say, and how the infamous Macedonian king would respond to the presence of a slave within his inner circle. Adam had traced over Tommy’s body, taking in the rich, blue silk brocade tunic he wore and the gleaming sapphire pin just below his left shoulder.
“You are not a slave,” Adam had replied. “You are a prince of Ilyria, and my equal.”
Tommy had opened his mouth as if to speak, but he’d said nothing. Having apparently reconsidered, he snapped his mouth shut and nodded simply. What he had meant to say, Adam would never know.
Adam, Tommy, Kristopher and the other generals rode into the city with an escort of two hundred soldiers and a color guard carrying a flag bearing the Elysian crest. Unlike in Syriana, this contingent wasn’t purely for show. The relations between Elysia and Macedon were tense during the best of times, and violently hostile during the worst. The two kingdoms had been locked in constant conflict for as long as anyone could remember, and that fact remained unchanged. Macedon was the first kingdom Adam had conquered, but nine years after the protectorate had begun, the Macedonian king still resisted at every turn. As the court crier announced their arrival when they reached the royal banquet hall, Adam grimaced. He wasn’t looking forward to this banquet or to the negotiations to be held the following morning.
Adam watched as the Macedonian king rose from the high table and walked towards him with his queen in tow. At forty-nine, he was the oldest king in the six kingdoms now that Lord Ratliff was dead.
“Lord Lambert, we are pleased to welcome you to our court,” the man said, in a flat tone that belied his words.
“We are pleased to be here, Lord Cowell,” Adam replied in an identical tone.
“Vice-lord Allen. How pleasant to see you again, and in such good health.” The king’s tone was cold and contemptuous. Nine years ago, in the heat of battle, Kristopher’s dagger had found its way into the king’s chest, missing his heart only by a fraction of an inch. King Simon wasn’t the forgiving kind.
Kristopher glared at the man with thinly-disguised disdain. “And you as well, Lord Cowell.”
“And who, pray tell, are you?”
Adam felt Tommy stiffen at his side when Lord Cowell’s gaze swung to him. Unlike before, Tommy was standing right beside Adam this time, instead of two steps back as was the tradition with slaves.
“I am Thomas Joseph.”
Lord Cowell made the connection instantly. “Prince Thomas Joseph?” He glanced at Adam for a brief moment before turning back to Tommy. “So the rumors are true. You are his lover.” Lord Cowell let out a low, derisive laugh. “I see that you have no false aspirations to originality.”
“I beg your pardon?” Tommy replied.
“I was simply saying it’s terribly unimaginative of you, my dear boy, taking to the king’s bed. Did you do it before or after your brother murdered your father?”
“You bastard.” Adam had never heard such virulence in Tommy’s voice, not even that night, four weeks ago, when the Runners had come bearing their news.
“What did you say to me, boy?” Lord Cowell’s gaze swung back to Adam. “Mind your slave, Lord Lambert. I daresay you have given him far too long a leash.”
Those words were what finally shattered Adam’s control. “Watch your tongue, Lord Cowell. Do not dare to call Prince Thomas a slave again.”
“He is tribute!”
“He is a prince of Ilyria, same as you and I!”
Adam could feel the heat of dozens of gazes trained on them and the scene unfolding in the room. The volume of noise in the room had risen, no doubt from excited conversation at the sight of two kings seemingly on the edge of coming to blows. Only a few minutes in, and the evening was already devolving into an irreparable disaster.
“Lord Lambert, please do not take offense.” The queen stepped forward as she intervened, raising pleading brown eyes to Adam’s face. “My husband”-she shot Lord Cowell a withering look-“meant no insult. It is our pleasure to have Prince Thomas Joseph here tonight.”
Her earnest, placating tone dampened Adam’s anger a little. He relented with a small smile. “Forgive my manners, Lady Paula,” he said to the petite, brown-haired woman. “I did not mean to cast a pallor on the festivities and your efforts here tonight.”
Lady Paula smiled in response. “There is nothing to forgive, my lord. Do come and be seated. The meal will be served shortly.”
But when Adam made to follow the queen to the high table with Tommy in tow, Lord Cowell’s voice rang out, heavy with indignation.
“You cannot possibly intend for this…man to sit at my table,” he said.
Adam’s eyes narrowed. “That is precisely what I intend,” he replied coldly.
“Adam, it’s alright,” Tommy said, placing a hand against Adam’s arm. “I’ll sit elsewhere.”
“No,” Adam bit out sharply. “Your place is with me.”
“Of course it is!” Lady Paula cried brightly before her husband could make matters worse. She moved closer to Tommy and smiled. “Prince Thomas, won’t you offer an old woman your arm?” she asked playfully.
For the first time in a long while, Tommy’s face relaxed into a smile. “Of course, my lady.” Tommy offered her his arm and escorted her towards the high table while the others followed behind them. “But I must say, Lady Paula, you judge yourself too harshly. If you are old, then I am a monkey’s cousin. And as far as I know, I have no simian relatives.” Adam watched the queen toss her head back in laughter and couldn’t help the small smile of pride that curled his lips. His lover was a man to admire.
The evening passed as well as one could hope given its inauspicious start. Adam and Tommy weathered the hours tolerably, despite Lord Cowell’s continued snide remarks and general ungentlemanly behavior. But the King of Elysia’s patience had its limits. The moment the meal was cleared, he rose from his chair and gave his excuses. No matter how ardently Lady Paula pleaded with him to stay, Adam demurred, citing the upcoming day’s activities.
After the Elysian contingent returned to their camp, and Adam and Tommy retreated to their tent, Adam finally let out the angry should he’d been holding in all evening. When he turned around, he saw Tommy staring at him with a bemused look on his face.
“Are you quite finished?”
“Oh, come now. Don’t pretend as if you were perfectly calm the entire time,” Adam replied.
Tommy shrugged. “I’ll admit that I got a bit incensed at one point. But I’m not going to let that man ruin my night any more than he already has.”
“He had no right to speak to you like that.”
“He had every right, Adam. He is a king and I am a slave.”
“You are his equal,” Adam replied sharply.
“The laws of Ilyria say otherwise.”
Adam let out a sound of frustration. “Enough! I’ve had enough of these laws!”
“I’m sorry, Adam,” Tommy said quietly. “But the laws are what they are. They cannot be changed.”
Adam’s shoulders slumped in defeat. “I know.”
“So, let it be.”
Adam didn’t want to. He thought of the way Lord Cowell had sneered and spoken to Tommy as if he was nothing. How did Tommy expect him to let such an insult lie? Adam frowned. Tommy was his equal, and he would not abide anyone-king or otherwise-treating him differently. Suddenly, Adam thought of the legend of old King William of Macedon and his High Consort, Constantine. The laws of Ilyria proscribed disavowal of tribute, but they said nothing about elevating a slave. Tommy would still be tribute technically, but he could be something more than a slave, if Adam made it so. Just like that, an idea took root in Adam’s mind and he knew immediately that he would not be able to shake it loose even if he wanted to.
“Come on. Let’s go to bed.”
Adam looked up in time to catch a soft smile on Tommy’s face before the other man turned around and walked over to their bed. Adam watched him move, mesmerized as always by his grace. Sometimes, Adam swore that the sway of Tommy’s hips could rewrite history.
“See something you like?” Tommy turned around when he reached the bed and arched an eyebrow.
Adam laughed. He closed the distance between them quickly, stopping in front of Tommy and brushing a lock of hair from his forehead.
“No,” he replied. “I see someone I love.”
Tommy responded by throwing his arms around Adam’s neck and pulling him down for a soft, slow kiss. When he pulled back moments later, Tommy’s eyes were luminous with emotion. Nothing was more precious to Adam than this man. Once again, the thought of anyone treating him poorly sparked his ire.
“Lord Cowell shouldn’t have spoken to you like he did.”
“I don’t care, Adam. Don’t you understand? You’re like the sun to me. When I look at you, I don’t see anyone else. I can’t see anyone else. I could care less about the opinion of a man who couldn’t defend his kingdom and jeopardizes his citizens’ welfare by antagonizing you. You’re all that I care about.”
“Really?”
“Well, Kristopher too, of course,” Tommy amended.
His words drew a laugh from Adam in spite of himself. “You are like magic,” Adam whispered.
“So are you.”
Adam leaned down for another soft, slow kiss. This time, he was the one to pull back from the caress.
“Make love to me,” Adam murmured against Tommy’s jaw.
“I thought you’d never ask.”
They made love leisurely. They could afford to, now that they knew that nothing would ever come between them again. Even when Tommy took Adam, he moved slowly, taking his time, drawing out the pleasure, making Adam break apart from the inside out. And later, they lay in each other’s arms, hearts pounding at a slightly more human pace, luxuriating in the afterglow.
“Adam?” Tommy murmured against Adam’s chest.
“Yes?” Adam replied sleepily.
“I know I said I didn’t care, but maybe I do care just a little. So, if you could, tomorrow, at the negotiations with Lord Cowell….”
“Yes?”
“Give him hell.”
Adam did precisely that. When the Elysian caravan left Macedon two days later, they took with them far more supplies than Adam had ever demanded from any of the other kingdoms. Adam had also doubled the size of the holdover Elysian regiment in Macedon and demanded more of King Simon’s silver and gold. The man had no choice but to acquiesce to Adam’s demands.
The rest of the journey passed by as well as anyone could hope for. Music and conversation still filled the evening hours, and Adam and Tommy continued to grow closer and closer to each other. Tommy continued to divide his time between the hunting party and riding beside Adam in the caravan. For his part, Adam tried to act as normally as possible, despite the surprise he had in store for everyone when they reached home. The idea that had taken hold of him in Macedon had blossomed into a fully-formed decision, and Adam could barely contain his excitement.
And then finally, one day, some three and a half weeks after they had departed Macedon, the imposing walls of a new city came into view and the soldiers in the caravan erupted in a loud, cheerful cry. They had finally reached Elysia.