Chaos 13 & 14
Jun. 18th, 2007 05:26 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
maderrEnd Part Two ^_^
Thirteen
"I wish we could actually help," Stefan said miserably as he bandaged Sasha’s arm. "It doesn’t seem right that we stand around watching while you do all the work."
Slick, supple leather stroked his cheek in a familiar gesture Stefan dearly loved. "Killing Sents is no easy task, sweet. It would take months, even years, to properly train you. Best if I do it. As you pointed out before, even picking me up when I fall is helping."
Stefan flushed, thinking of what had followed that not so long ago conversation. He nuzzled against the gloved fingers caressing his cheek, smiling shyly at Sasha, then finally finished bandaging the cut on his arm. Shallow, it would not take long to heal, but he still did not like seeing Sasha hurt.
Or so exhausted. In the past few months they’d killed four more Sents, slowly working their way around the Great Wall. It was strange beyond anything, and Stefan daily wondered if he was about to wake up.
"I vote we camp here for the night," Sasha said tiredly. "Unless there are objections?"
Fritz snorted. "As you are the one doing all the real work, I would say your vote is the only one that matters. We will make camp here. It seems an ideal spot anyway. Killian, Stefan, see to firewood."
Though reluctant to leave Sasha, even knowing full well Sasha didn’t need him, Stefan knew better than to disobey a tone like that – and he liked Fritz. After Sasha he was smarter than anyone Stefan knew, especially when it came to Schatten and everything. The way he muttered constantly to Drache was funny, if odd. He might have thought Fritz crazy except that Sasha seemed so certain he wasn’t.
Ignoring the way Killian glowered and grumbled, Stefan set quickly to work gathering firewood.
Every place at the gate where Sasha had slain a Sent they’d found rooms exactly like the one where he’d found Sasha… Stefan’s cheeks burned as he recalled quite clearly what precisely he and Sasha had done in that little room.
He wished they could be alone again. As much as he enjoyed Fritz’s company and everything the man was teaching him – and the funny things he muttered to Drache…and as happy as he was to have Killian around, despite his near-constant bad mood…he really wished he and Sasha could be alone again. Just for a little while.
Feeling embarrassed and guilty, because he shouldn’t want his friends to go away, Stefan set to work building the fire and rolling out all the bedding. Given the small confines of the stone room, and the solidity with which it was built, it would not take long for the fire to warm it and for once they wouldn’t have to spend the night shivering in snow and biting winds.
The weather, as they’d traveled, had only grown steadily worse. This was the first block of clear days they’d had for some time, and there’d been a span of three days where the snow had been falling too heavily for them to travel at all.
Sasha and Fritz walked in a few minutes later, and Stefan could see from their expressions that they’d been discussing something… Those two talked about things all the time. Stefan tried to stifle his jealousy, knowing there was no reason for it.
Except Fritz was closer to Sasha’s age, and obviously they knew a lot of the same things, and understood a world that Stefan didn’t…the world where Sasha acted cold, fake. Stefan turned away from the memory, clinging to those of a warm Sasha with hair like fire and a smile that was only for him.
He realized he was staring when Sasha caught his eye and quirked a brow in amused query. Flushing, Stefan turned his attention back to the fire.
Fritz coughed, obviously trying not to laugh at something Drache had said. It was almost funny, how Stefan could tell now when Fritz was reacting to Drache rather than his surroundings. "The day is young yet, and I do believe that we have to time go hunting."
Stefan nearly groaned.
"Killian," Fritz continued, voice sharp. "Gather your things, you and I are going to scrounge up every last rabbit we possibly can. I do not like the taste in the air. We’d do well to have as much food as possible."
"Do you want me to help?" Stefan asked, puzzled. Usually, he and Killian were the two to do the hunting.
Fritz smiled in a strange way that Stefan didn’t quite get. "No, Killian and I will suffice. Sasha no doubt would like very much to take a nap, and you can tend the fire and all." He winked, then glared at Killian. "Move along quickly, now."
Grumbling and muttering, Killian obeyed. Stefan stifled a sigh and poked at the fire, wishing he knew what to do about his oldest friend.
It still was strange, even after all these months, to think that Killian had a crush on him. Or used to, anyway. Stefan had been struggling to figure out a way to talk about it, knowing that’s what he should do…but Killian refused, always dodging out.
More often than he liked admitting, feeling guilty, Stefan had wished Killian had not followed after him.
A hand landed on his, and Stefan jumped even as he realized it was only Sasha. He blinked, thoughts shifting from frustration over his friend to noticing just how…stunning Sasha always looked in firelight. It made his hair and eyes almost glow, though Stefan would never say that aloud. It would make him sound like a stupid kid.
He knew Sasha hated his long hair, but secretly Stefan hoped he never got around to cutting it. Before he’d even realized he’d moved, his fingers were combing carefully through the deep red strands. No matter how often he touched Sasha’s hair, he was always vaguely surprised to find it cool to the touch.
Sasha smiled in that faint way of his and slid his gloved hand along Stefan's arm. The leather was slick, warm – but not nearly as warm as the lips that pressed a kiss to the palm of his hand, those gold eyes never leaving his.
"Here I was beginning to think you truly intended only to tend the fire while they were gone," Sasha murmured, then tugged hard, chuckling as Stefan toppled into his lap.
"What?" Stefan managed, face heating as he realized he was straddling Sasha, breaths becoming harder to draw as he began to notice things. How hot Sasha was, the hard muscles of his thighs, the smooth chest beneath the shirt across which his hands were splayed for balance. A gloved hand curled around his hip, slipped beneath the edge of his shirt. "S-Sasha…"
Sasha chuckled. "Did you not notice that Fritz purposely gave us time alone?"
Stefan groaned in embarrassment at that, to think Fritz knew exactly what they’d be doing…but even as his face burned, Stefan was giving in as Sasha tugged him down and took his mouth in a heated kiss. "Sasha…"
"Mmm, you are pretty when you same my name that way, sweet," Sasha replied, voice soft and husky; it always made Stefan ache. He squirmed restlessly, fingers moving of their own volition to find the pale skin that was as fascinating as the red hair, pushing damp, stiff clothes out of the way. His movements stuttered, faltered, as Sasha’s fingers found their mark. "So very fine, sweet…" Sasha tugged him back down for another kiss, and Stefan melted into it.
He broke away only because he had to breathe, and his eyes landed on Sasha's bandaged arm. "Your arm," he whispered, even as he shivered beneath the too-knowing touches assaulting him. "Sasha!"
Sasha chuckled and dragged him back down, close enough to put teeth and tongue to Stefan’s throat. "Why do you think you’re on top, sweet?"
Groaning, dizzy in a way that only Sasha could make him, Stefan fell beneath the waves assaulting him, hoping that it took Fritz and Killian a long, long time to find some rabbits.
A softly muttered "Shut up, Drache" stirred Stefan from his heavy doze, and he sat up with a faint groan, rubbing his eyes and immediately regretting the way he’d shoved back the blankets.
Nearby, the fire had gotten far too low. "Sorry," he muttered, stumbling, body still awkward and heavy with sleep.
"S’alright, lad," Fritz said with a quiet chuckle. "You look worn out. Go back to bed."
Face feeling as thought it were far hotter than the fire Fritz coaxed back to life, Stefan wasted no time in obeying. "Where’s Killian?" he managed, tugging the blanket back up, snuggling against Sasha, who immediately curled an arm around his waist before falling back asleep.
"Tending the rabbits," Fritz replied. "He’ll be along." His face clouded briefly and Stefan wondered tiredly if Killian had tried to pick a fight or something. Fritz mumbled something to Drache and rolled his eyes – then smiled at Stefan. "I would imagine you are hungry?"
"Yes," Stefan muttered, burrowing further down into the blankets to hide his flaming cheeks.
Fritz laughed and set to work preparing a meal and tea.
Stefan immediately felt guilty and forced himself to sit up. Fritz had just spent all day hunting and dealing with Killian so he and Sasha could have some time alone. "I’ll do it," he said, wincing slightly as his muscles protested. "You spent all day hunting."
"Well, I admit I will not argue you too much over it. Let me make the tea at least. I think that if I stop moving for too long, I shall sleep even heavier than our Sent killer."
More guilt pricked at Stefan. Sasha was exhausted, and of late his skin was a bit paler than usual…and he’d been sipping at his flask more frequently than was normal. He’d killed four Sents since they’d fled Raven Knoll. Stefan loved to watch him do it, even as he longed to help and loathed seeing Sasha in such danger…and facing it alone. But Stefan knew he wouldn’t be able to help in a fight. No one in Schatten had thought such a thing possible let alone trained for it.
It was the magic, however, that he suspected really wore Sasha out. Why, he didn’t know, and prying into it was like trying to learn more of Sasha’s past – there were questions Sasha simply did not like. He should have let Sasha rest the entire day, instead of…but Sasha had started it?
Light, that sounded childish.
Sighing at himself, Stefan set to work throwing together what they had to make a sloppy sort of soup, wishing he had the time and resources to make a real soup, something thick and warming and flavored with Maja’s herbs…
"You seem to be in much better spirits," Fritz said with a smile, his laughter kind. "I’m certain Sasha is as well. To be close to your lover but not able to touch…" A sad smile shaped his mouth. "It is a hard thing."
Stefan nodded, not trusting himself to speak.
"Are you also now perhaps convinced that I am no threat to you?"
Cringing, mortified he’d been noticed, Stefan adamantly nodded his head. "I—"
"You are young," Fritz interrupted gently. "There is no cause for concern. Now, finish that food as your friend is coming and I’m certain he’s as ravenous as the rest of us." He rolled his eyes and smiled in wry amusement. "If not more so, as keeping up that foul temper takes far more energy than anything the rest of us have done." Winking, he set to pouring the tea as Killian stomped inside.
Sighing, sensing he was going to spend the rest of his trip hideously embarrassed, Stefan made himself finish the improvised meal and dish it out – nearly dropping his own bowl when a hand landed on his thigh.
"That’s the second time you’ve scared me," he said, frowning at Sasha, then promptly forgetting what he’d just said as he watched Sasha rake back his hair and pull up his shirt, the dark fabric and that pale skin…
Sasha chuckled. "Perhaps you should stop getting lost in those clouds, sweet."
"He’s always been that way," Killian said in a tone that wasn’t quite nasty, but close enough Stefan’s smile faltered.
"The constant motion of his mind is his greatest charm," Sasha replied quietly but firmly.
Stefan smiled, wanting to hide but unable to look away from the gold eyes staring into his. "Hungry?"
"Quite," Sasha murmured, "but I suppose food will suffice."
Not sure how to respond to that, Stefan shoved the full bowl he held at Sasha, then turned to accept the two brimming cups of tea.
Soft chuckles surrounded him, and if he hadn’t been so embarrassed he would have rolled his eyes. He looked to Killian for support…but Killian merely stared into the fire, or at least seemed to, his eyes looking oddly blank from Stefan’s angle.
"I wonder if, once all the Sents are dead, we will have the energy to continue this mad quest of ours," Fritz asked idly, quietly sipping his tea, rolling his eyes at whatever Drache said to him.
Killian’s head shot up. "Pointless quest. No one can kill Teufel, and even assuming you did there will be no god to care for Schatten."
"Care?" Sasha repeated coldly. "Forcing people to live in darkness and terror is not care. Creating the Sentinels is not care. Preordaining the lives of every soul in Schatten in not care. It is cruelty."
Stefan shivered, as awed and fearful as he always was when Sasha spoke of such things. In the past few months it had become slightly more real to him…but most of him still boggled at the idea. Would they really be able to get past the Great Wall and into Verlorengehen? Was Verlorengehen still there? Was there truly a great Citadel?
He wanted to believe Sasha, and would believe Sasha, even if Killian’s words made sense. Lord Teufel ruled over Schatten, as was proper since the fall of Lord Licht…but to be free of the Sentinels…to see a sunlit sky…to see what Sasha looked like standing beneath a sun like he’d seen in his books, in the Temple of Sunrise…
For that, Stefan thought he would do a great deal. It was rather frightening, but he wouldn’t run from it. He’d chased after Sasha, he was going to stay with Sasha.
Killian, however, would not be thwarted. "Even if you get past the Great Sentinels and Wall – what about the Holy Sentinel?"
Sasha shrugged and did not reply, which only infuriated Killian more.
Stefan struggled for something to say, to break the tension, anything. Why did his best friend have to hate his lover so much? His lover. He never got tired of thinking that. Here he’d thought never to find anyone at all…and the most incredible man he’d ever met belonged to him.
For now, at least. Sasha wouldn’t want him forever, he was sure…but he’d deal with that when he had to. Right now he had to deal with Killian. "How many rabbits did you get?" he finally asked.
Killian glared at him, recognizing the feeble effort to change the conversation. "Four." He turned back to Sasha. "Killing Lord Teufel is impossible."
"Yes, I know all about gods and impossible," Sasha said, voice deceptively light. On his finger, the strange silvery ring he wore seemed to shimmer, flash. "I also know how wrong Teufel is. He is no god and should not play at being one."
"He is more of a god than you!" Killian snarled. "Arrogance gets men killed!"
Sasha’s brows went up. "Peculiar words for a mere boy," he said. "Repeating tidbits of conversations to which you should not have been listening?"
Killian said nothing, merely glowered into his stew and ignored them all.
"Killian…" Stefan said quietly.
Snarling, Killian abruptly slammed his bowl down, then stood and stalked to the door.
"I’m sorry," Stefan said miserably into the silence that fell.
A hand stroked soothingly along his thigh, then Sasha cupped his face and turned it to brush a soft, soothing kiss across his mouth. "Sweet, there is nothing for which you must apologize. It is only to be expected that our actions upset him, and we have already discussed what else is upsetting him."
Stefan nodded and tried to be soothed by the kiss, the touches.
"Sents!" Killian came rushing in shouting, waving his hands wildly about, eyes wide with fear. "Great Sents! Outside!"
"Ridiculous," Fritz said sharply. "I would have sensed them."
"I’m not a liar!" Killian said.
Sasha sighed and stood, quickly gathering up his weapons.
"Be careful of your arm," Stefan said softly, looking anxiously up at Sasha, who leaned down to kiss him in reassurance, smiling in a way that stole Stefan’s breath. As if Stefan’s words had particularly pleased him.
"I will," Sasha said. "Likely it is just a couple of adults, if anything at all."
"I know a Great Sent when I see one!" Killian snapped, overhearing him.
"There is no way there could be three Great Sents outside," Sasha replied, though he held his coiled whip in his hand, ready to strike at a moment’s notice.
Stefan glared at Killian in warning as he passed, then fell into step alongside Fritz, staying several steps behind Sasha.
"Fire and ash…" Sasha said, voice unsteady in a way Stefan had never heard it.
As he stepped outside, he got a look at what awaited them and felt a chill that had nothing to do with the snow and ice.
Three Great Sentinels, gathered around the corpse of their comrade not too far away. In the gloom of early evening, they were the most ominous of shadows. Stefan swallowed, throat suddenly dry, and hugged himself to still his trembling. "Sasha…"
"Fire and ash!" Sasha swore again, this time with his usual vehemence. Any other time, Stefan would have laughed at the strange curse.
He jumped, startled, as Sasha suddenly spun around and grasped his shoulders. Those dark gold eyes blazed as they never had before, and Stefan shivered beneath the intensity of the stare. "Sasha…"
Then Sasha kissed him, harder and more fiercely than he’d ever done. "I do love you, Stefan."
The words left Stefan reeling, and he could only stare and try to regain his footing as he watched Sasha pull out his flask and drink deeply from it, grimacing at the taste as he always did.
"Get back," he said quietly, motioning all three of them to return to the small stone room. "I do not know just how much damage this will do." He looked at Stefan, at Fritz, then glared hard at Killian before shifting his gaze back to Stefan. "Nor do I know how this will affect me…"
He never finished what he wanted to say, as the Great Sentinels finally grew impatient and started to move forward.
Sasha whirled around and spread his arms wide. "Scorching monsters. I will show you why Order always falls to Chaos. Thunder and lightning. Wind and rain. Snow and ice. All the power of the winds and seas. I invoke the names and powers of the gods of storms. Raiden. Kindan. Nankyokukai."
For a single long moment the world seemed to fall into perfect silence. Stefan swore he could hear the sound of his own heart beating.
Then everything exploded, the sky tearing apart in a way he’d never seen it do. The worst spring showers were nothing like this, the nastiest blizzard nowhere near this frightening and disorienting.
Everything shook, trembled; it felt as though the sky were coming apart and falling down. Wind, sleet, hail, snow.
Stefan didn’t protest as Fritz dragged him the rest of the way inside, dropping to his knees when his trembling became too much to bear, wishing the world would hold still again, wondering if Sasha was all right in the middle of the terrible storm.
Everything crashed louder than ever, then Stefen heard the terrible sound of Great Sents screaming – in pain.
As they lay dying.
Then there came a sudden, jarring silence.
Stefan stood cautiously, not quite trusting his legs – but when he did not fall over, he bolted outside.
The field looked torn asunder, the ground torn up in places, scorched in others, a soft, light snow falling gently about.
An unmistakable splash of deep, burning red in the middle of the ruined field, just a few yards from…
Three Great Sents. All dead, lying in thick pools of their own blood, scales as ravaged as the field in which they lay.
Stefan didn’t spare them a second glance, but bolted for Sasha, kneeling and scooping him up, shuddering at how cold he felt. "Sasha, Sasha…" He fought back sobs at how eerily still he was, how terribly cold, shuddering at how faintly he could hear Sasha’s heart beating.
Beating. His heart was beating. He wasn’t dead.
"Get him inside!" Fritz said sharply, giving Stefan a nasty shock – he had not heard the man come up, and that was the fourth time in a day that he’d been scared witless by someone. But he obeyed, stepping aside so that Fritz could lift and carry Sasha, following close behind, immediately stripping Sasha out of his clothes once he was safely inside, shuddering at how cold and frozen he felt.
"Rest with him," Fritz said sharply. "He must be near frozen, your warmth – and presence, I shouldn’t doubt – will help."
Too scared to be embarrassed, Stefan obediently stripped and paused only to find Sasha’s flask before curling up next to him and tugging the blankets up over them. He shivered at the touch of Sasha’s cold skin, but only cuddled closer, working one hand free of the blankets to pet and stroke Sasha’s hair, trace the line of his cheek. "Sasha…"
There was no reply, but Stefan could feel Sasha slowly warming, could feel his heart beating, if only faintly, and he could hear Fritz muttering to Drache as he took care of matters, no doubt preparing tea. Fritz was like Maja – tea fixed everything.
Stefan distantly thought that was rather a stupid thing to think about when his lover was almost dead, but before he could work out whether or not it truly was a stupid thought, fear and exhaustion from worrying carried him into sleep, lulled by the faint beating of Sasha’s heart.
Fourteen
Sasha slowly opened his eyes, and did it only because the motion was automatic. It wasn’t until he saw he was staring up at a dark, stone ceiling that he realized he was awake.
He was fairly certain he was supposed to be dead.
Feeling stiff, heavy, probably from being abed for so long, Sasha forced himself to move – though in the end, all he could manage was to turn his head. His eyes landed on Fritz, who’d been reading the history book Sasha had stolen…how long had he been asleep?
He licked his lips, realizing suddenly just how dry his mouth and throat were. "How long?" he asked hoarsely.
Fritz closed the book and set it aside, and leaned forward to help Sasha sit up before picking up his own cup full of water and pressing it carefully into his hands. "Two weeks."
Sasha winced. "Stefan?"
"Is a mess. The lad has barely left your side for more time than was strictly necessary – and only after I threatened him for an hour. Licht spare me from ever dealing with young men ever again." He rolled his eyes, but a smile tugged at his mouth. "How do you feel?"
"As though I was left to scorch and then tossed into the scrap pile," Sasha said.
Fritz laughed. "Drache says for a while you very much looked it."
"Two weeks…" Sasha sighed and raked back his hair, then took a careful sip of water, wanting to drink it all down but knowing that was a bad idea.
Fire and ash he was tired of being weak. Pathetic. Just once he would like to feel strong.
At least now that necessity was saving people – even if they didn’t know or possibly even care.
Stefan…
Sasha took another sip of water. "The Great Sents?"
"All dead. It was quite the sight to see. I do not envy you that power, Sasha." Fritz rolled his eyes. "Shut up."
A faint smile reached Sasha’s face, the familiarity of Fritz bickering with Drache somehow soothing, steadying. "I am sorry to have collapsed yet again. Though I am surprised…" He frowned, and looking at the ring on his hand. "I did not expect to survive."
"To be honest, for a while we did not think you would make it. Stefan was losing his mind. Getting sustenance down you has been a trial. You make for a very poor patient, I will tell you that." A smile eased any sting from the words.
It was rather disconcerting. He’d heard much the same back home, the few times he’d been bedridden. He was too independent to make a good patient. Yet Fritz smiled over it…no one did that.
"I should not be alive," he said. "The High Priest of Pozhar warned me a thousand times and more not to invoke the power of all three Sacred Storm Bringers. I better understand why now."
"Indeed," Fritz replied. "Even Drache was rendered silent. It is one thing to hear him mention such gods from time to time…quite another to see such evidence of them. I am glad you survived." He hesitated.
Sasha motioned for him to speak, though it was difficult – suddenly he was quite exhausted, and his chest throbbed with a persistent, too-familiar ache.
"If you will take advice from a crazy priest who presumes to count himself your friend…"
Friend. Sasha blinked, then lifted his eyes to stare at Fritz. He’d sensed that kindred spirit…but…he had Stefan, he knew that. For however long he lived, he had Stefan. Still…he did not have friends. His life had not encouraged such things, and even if it had…his own bitterness had ruined his chances. "I would take advice from a friend, yes."
Fritz smiled, and Sasha could see in his face that he felt the same. He fought against the bitterness that tried to well up at the thought that he was going to die right as he’d started finding somewhere he could be happy…be what he could have been, had he not let the bitter disappointment of one night ruin him.
The smile faded almost immediately, however, as Fritz turned somber. "You need to tell Stefan that if this happens a second time, you will not be waking. I know your time is short, and I can deal with that…my friend. Stefan will not take it so well, and he should be braced for it."
Sasha nodded, feeling every bit of his age. "I know," he said quietly. "I kept putting it off…and I did not expect to be ambushed by three Great Sents." He shivered as memories of that encounter flooded him. Not that the Sents had been given a chance to attack him, the fury of the storm had prevented that. But it had been cold, disorienting, draining. Frightening, if he were honest. He never wanted to do that again…though he would if he had to. "I will address the matter soon." Once he didn’t feel so very much like a babe.
Fritz nodded. "Get some rest then. You clearly still need it." He took the cup from Sasha and urged him back down, pulling the blankets up and settling them securely.
Sasha attempted to thank him, but suspected the words came out garbled as sleep overtook him.
When he woke again, the room was nearly pitch-black; only the low fire in the center of the chamber offered any light.
Feeling very much awake and revived, Sasha slowly sat up – abruptly realizing he was not alone. He looked down, impatiently pushing back his loose hair, and saw Stefan stretched out alongside him, one arm pillowing his head, the other stretched out across Sasha’s waist over the blanket, bundled in a couple of cloaks.
Shaking his head, exasperated, amused, and touched all at once, Sasha removed the arm from his waist and threw back the blankets, then carefully pulled Stefan beneath the blankets with him. He smiled faintly and brushed strands of blue-black hair from his cheek, caressing the line of his cheekbone.
Beneath his touch, Stefan stirred, shivered, then slowly his eyes fluttered and blinked – then widened as realization dawned. He made a choked sound that Sasha suspected was his name, and then his arms were full of a trembling, nearly-sobbing Stefan.
"Shh, sweet," he soothed, rubbing and caressing Stefan’s back, stroking his hair, holding him tight. "I am sorry to have worried you so."
"I thought—you wouldn’t wake—" Stefan shuddered and held him tight enough to nearly choke, head buried in the hollow of Sasha’s neck.
Sasha held him a moment longer, then pulled him gently back, cupping his face in one hand and kissing Stefan softly. "I am awake now, sweet. I apologize."
"You almost died," Stefan said. "I mean—you’re killing Sents, I knew—but you were so still. So cold. I couldn’t—" He leaned forward and kissed Sasha hard, nearly splitting his lip, and Sasha would have smiled at the boldness of it if the situation had not been so awful.
He didn’t need light to know that when Stefan finally pulled away, his face burned deep red. Stroking one burning cheek, Sasha sighed. "I wish there had been another way, but I had precious few options."
"I wish I wasn’t so useless," Stefan said miserably. "All we do is watch you fight and—"
Sasha cut him off with a kiss. "You are not useless, sweet. Never that."
Stefan nodded, but the tension in his body said plain as anything that he was far from convinced of that.
"Where are Fritz and Killian?" Sasha asked, as much to distract Stefan as to satisfy his own curiosity. It was clear, even in the dimly lit room, that the other two were not present.
"They went to the village," Stefan said quietly. "The snow is finally melting, and Fritz said they should go for fresh supplies while the weather was holding."
Sasha was torn between gratitude and frustration. "I see," he said with a sigh.
In his arms, Stefan tensed again.
"Sweet, as much as I would love nothing more than to strip you bare and wear myself to exhaustion loving you…we had best talk."
Stefan’s arms tightened around him, first in embarrassment and then in worry. "What about?" he asked uncertainly. "You…are you sorry you said…"
"Sorry I said what?" Sasha asked, confused.
Stefan pulled away, shoulders hunched in obvious misery. "Before you cast the spell," he said, then made to move to the fire.
Comprehension dawned. "No," Sasha said, and yanked him back, kissing Stefan fiercely, leaving them both gasping for breath. "I love you, Stefan. No matter what. Never doubt that."
The dark was not enough to hide the joy that sparked to life in those pale lavender eyes before shyness drove Stefan to look away, managing a soft "I’m glad you’re alive" before he bolted to build up the fire, flooding the room with more light.
"Come back to bed, sweet."
Stefan frowned at him, though the happiness brought by Sasha’s words lingered. "What do we have to talk about?"
Sasha sighed. "To be blunt, sweet – the fact that I am dying."
"…Dying?" Stefan repeated faintly, obediently moving back to the bedroll and allowing Sasha to bundle him close so that he sat between Sasha’s legs, cuddled up against his chest, the blankets like a nest around them.
"Yes," Sasha replied, brushing a faint kiss across his temple, closing his eyes to enjoy Stefan’s scent for a moment. "Maja discovered it when I collapsed in the village…Fritz realized it that morning in the inn." He picked up one of Stefan’s hands and held it to his own chest. "My heart is weak, sweet. It’s the reason I’m always collapsing in such dramatic fashion when I cast too many spells. Why I tire so easily. Why I did not think I would survive invoking the Sacred Storm Bringers…and it is definitely the reason I will likely not survive facing Teufel."
Stefan was still and silent.
"It’s true, sweet," Sasha said in reply to the protest he knew was coming.
"No!" Stefan retorted. "You survived this. You don’t have a weak heart. I know men with weak hearts, they’re nothing like you." He snatched his hand away and burrowed against Sasha as if trying to sink into him. "You’re not."
"Yes, I am. You can feel it yourself that my heart does not beat true. The flask I carry contains a tonic that helps steady it, but it will not work forever and is itself a sort of poison if taken for too long. If Teufel himself does not kill me, then sometime very soon my heart is finally going to give out. The healer who made the tonic said it was astonishing I was still alive…" Sasha frowned in thought. "I think I am only because at the moment I should have died, the High Priest of Pozhar healed the damage which had been done, and he is the most powerful sorcerer in the world."
"There must be a—"
Sasha stopped the words with a finger to Stefan’s lips. "No, sweet, there isn’t. I am sorry. I tried to make you leave because I knew it was cruel to be close to anyone. I came here to kill Teufel and die. I am sorry."
In his arms Stefan was still, but the fingers gripping his shirt trembled and his breaths were unsteady. "There’s nothing we can do? How long…?"
"I don’t know how long. As I said, if Teufel does not kill me, it will not be much longer after that. There is nothing to be done…" Sasha drew a deep breath and let it out slowly, thinking, wondering. "But…perhaps there is something you can do for me, sweet, if you do not mind."
Stefan pulled away far enough to look at him, eyes bright with misery Sasha knew Stefan was too stubborn to let become tears. "What?"
Sasha stroked the line of his cheek, something he’d done a hundred or more times now and would never grow tired of doing. "With Teufel fallen, Schatten can begin to rejoin the world. It will rejoin the world, I vow it. When the barriers fall…" Sasha turned to look into the fire as things he’d not thought about for a long time surfaced in his mind.
"When Schatten is once more open to the world, Pozhar will be the first country to visit. It is ruled by a kind, honorable woman. Queen Sonya. When you see her—"
"A queen?" Stefan blurted. "I would never see a queen. There’s no way, I’m just—"
Sasha chucked softly, cutting him off. "You will. When you do see her, Stefan, would you do something for me? It is not fair of me to ask…"
"I want to do something," Stefan said in his stubborn way, mouth turned down in something that was not quite a frown, not quite a pout. "Whatever it is, I promise I will do it."
Smiling, Sasha could not resist leaning down to kiss him briefly, softly. "You are a treasure, Stefan. Never let anyone convince you otherwise." He brushed his thumb across those kiss-damp lips, then let his arm fall with a sigh, eyes dragged back to the fire for a moment before returning to Stefan.
"What do you want me to do, Sasha?" Stefan asked, lavender eyes so intent as they watched him.
"When you see Queen Sonya, would you tell her all that I’ve done here? And tell her…tell her that Nikolai said he was sorry. For everything."
Stefan blinked, nodded slowly. "Nikolai?"
Sasha laughed faintly at the confusion on his face. "Yes. Not that it matters, for I want nothing to do with the name anymore, but my full name is Nikolai Aleksandr Krasny."
"That…sounds like a fancy name," Stefan replied. "No wonder you know so much stuff. Were you important, back home?"
"No," Sasha said with a snort. "The position I held was important, but not I. Nor was anyone sorry to see me surrender the position. I am Sasha now, and that is all I want to be."
Stefan hesitated, finally staying silent, curling back up against Sasha’s chest.
"What is it, sweet?"
"You’ve never talked about yourself. I want to know, but…if I ask, I’m afraid you’ll just say no again."
Sasha sighed, running his fingers through Stefan’s hair, stroking his arm, soothing with touch what he couldn’t with words. "I wasn’t a nice person in Pozhar, sweet. I let one small incident turn me into a person I did not much like. In coming here, I was trying to leave that person behind. I did not mean to upset you. What did you want to know?"
"You said…back when you talked about Killian…you said someone called you absurd…"
It was surprising, how much less that hurt these days. Stefan was healing more than he’d ever know. Still, it would always ache a bit. "Ah, sweet. I cannot believe you remembered that. It’s not so interesting a story, really…"
"Everything about you interests me," Stefan said stubbornly. "I don’t understand why anyone would call you absurd for-for loving them."
Sasha almost laughed. He would say young men were always so uncertain, but uncertainty wasn’t limited to youth. "It was long ago, sweet…" He’d never told anyone that story. Not even Sonya.
Taking a deep breath, Sasha began to tell it. "I was young, about eleven. I was scared because I always felt so weak, and my chest ached, but I did not want anyone in the palace to know – least of all my parents… So I ran off to a small village and the healer there, of whom my nurse spoke often."
"He told me I had a weak heart. That the things I loved to do, I must stop doing. That I would likely die well before I should. I was devastated, and left the healer’s hut not knowing what to do, where to turn… A fortune teller stopped me on my way out of the village." Sasha laughed sadly, remembering how stupid he’d been. The fingers stroking along his back were comforting, and let him keep talking. "She told me that I would ‘fall in love with a king’ and I was stupid enough to believe her. A scared boy gullible to the words of a charlatan looking for amusement. Desperate, I guess, to believe in anything happy – and as it happened I already had a young boy’s crush on my best friend, who at that time was the crown prince…"
Stefan rippled with shock in his arms. "Crown prince?" he stammered. "Sasha, who are you?"
"Only Sasha, sweet, I promise you."
"So what happened?" Stefan asked faintly.
"I was ecstatic," Sasha replied, staring past the fire, fighting against the pain that rose up. "I had a weak heart, but what did it matter if I was meant to be with my best friend? That sort of thing was frowned upon in my homeland, but I could not see that stopping us. The foolish, naïve thoughts of a scared young boy…"
"So I did what the healer said and gave up most of my pursuits, focusing instead on scholarly studies as my parents wanted, swiftly rising through my classes, making my mark…until it was all but decided that one day I would replace the current Advisor and serve at my best friend’s side."
Stefan choked. "Advisor?" he said weakly. "To a king? You worked for a king?"
"Yes, sweet."
"You said you weren’t important…" Stefan said quietly. "That…that must make you…"
"The second most powerful man in all Pozhar, at one point, but as I said – it was the position, not the man." Sasha shook his head. "It doesn’t matter, sweet. I am Sasha now. Should I stop? This is why I never spoke of it; I knew you’d be upset."
Stefan vehemently shook his head. "I want to know."
Nodding, Sasha continued. "On the day of his eighteenth birthday, a mere six months before mine…I called him out to the garden to speak privately…"
I love you.
You’re up to something. Are you worried about the appointment?
…What? Why…why are you laughing?
Come on, really. What are you up to? You’re usually more creative than this, though. Misha tried the same thing yesterday, did you know? I guess I forgot to tell you.
Misha? He’s a lying, manipulative bastard.
Yes. You’re a smart, clever bastard. So why all this ridiculousness? You know I’ll appoint you.
I’m not joking. I’m perfectly serious. I—why would you think I’m lying?
Men don’t love men, not the way you’re trying to play it.
That’s absurd and you know it.
You’re the one being absurd. Stop playing these games.
I’m not playing games! The fortune teller said I’d fall in love with you. It’s fate!
Ha! Now I know you’re up to something. Tell me what you’re scheming, I’ll help you.
…I’m serious…
Did my sister put you up to this? That would be like her, of course. Come on, let’s go back to the party.
But…I…I’ll follow you in a moment. There is something else I have to do first.
Suit yourself….no more games. Not this kind.
I will never mention it again. You have my word.
"After that, I went out and indulged in all the alcohol and flesh I could afford until I passed out," Sasha finished. "Until today, I have not mentioned it."
Stefan shifted, reaching up to wrap his arms around Sasha’s neck. "I wouldn’t have laughed. Even if I’m just a peasant and you’re a-a-prince or something."
Sasha laughed. "I’m no prince, sweet." He didn’t bother to mention that as the Duke of Krasny, and cousin to the Queen, he was only half a step away from being a prince. It didn’t matter. He wasn’t that man anymore. "And I have said before, Stefan, that a thousand of me do not begin to compare to you." He tugged Stefan’s head back far enough to lean in and take a long, slow, sweet kiss. "Whatever happens in life, Stefan, never doubt that I love you."
Stefan smiled shyly, touching his fingers to Sasha’s cheek, lavender eyes bright and intense. "I love you too, Sasha. I wish…"
"I know, sweet," Sasha said softly, then leaned in to kiss him again before sadness could spoil what happiness they had.
Thirteen
"I wish we could actually help," Stefan said miserably as he bandaged Sasha’s arm. "It doesn’t seem right that we stand around watching while you do all the work."
Slick, supple leather stroked his cheek in a familiar gesture Stefan dearly loved. "Killing Sents is no easy task, sweet. It would take months, even years, to properly train you. Best if I do it. As you pointed out before, even picking me up when I fall is helping."
Stefan flushed, thinking of what had followed that not so long ago conversation. He nuzzled against the gloved fingers caressing his cheek, smiling shyly at Sasha, then finally finished bandaging the cut on his arm. Shallow, it would not take long to heal, but he still did not like seeing Sasha hurt.
Or so exhausted. In the past few months they’d killed four more Sents, slowly working their way around the Great Wall. It was strange beyond anything, and Stefan daily wondered if he was about to wake up.
"I vote we camp here for the night," Sasha said tiredly. "Unless there are objections?"
Fritz snorted. "As you are the one doing all the real work, I would say your vote is the only one that matters. We will make camp here. It seems an ideal spot anyway. Killian, Stefan, see to firewood."
Though reluctant to leave Sasha, even knowing full well Sasha didn’t need him, Stefan knew better than to disobey a tone like that – and he liked Fritz. After Sasha he was smarter than anyone Stefan knew, especially when it came to Schatten and everything. The way he muttered constantly to Drache was funny, if odd. He might have thought Fritz crazy except that Sasha seemed so certain he wasn’t.
Ignoring the way Killian glowered and grumbled, Stefan set quickly to work gathering firewood.
Every place at the gate where Sasha had slain a Sent they’d found rooms exactly like the one where he’d found Sasha… Stefan’s cheeks burned as he recalled quite clearly what precisely he and Sasha had done in that little room.
He wished they could be alone again. As much as he enjoyed Fritz’s company and everything the man was teaching him – and the funny things he muttered to Drache…and as happy as he was to have Killian around, despite his near-constant bad mood…he really wished he and Sasha could be alone again. Just for a little while.
Feeling embarrassed and guilty, because he shouldn’t want his friends to go away, Stefan set to work building the fire and rolling out all the bedding. Given the small confines of the stone room, and the solidity with which it was built, it would not take long for the fire to warm it and for once they wouldn’t have to spend the night shivering in snow and biting winds.
The weather, as they’d traveled, had only grown steadily worse. This was the first block of clear days they’d had for some time, and there’d been a span of three days where the snow had been falling too heavily for them to travel at all.
Sasha and Fritz walked in a few minutes later, and Stefan could see from their expressions that they’d been discussing something… Those two talked about things all the time. Stefan tried to stifle his jealousy, knowing there was no reason for it.
Except Fritz was closer to Sasha’s age, and obviously they knew a lot of the same things, and understood a world that Stefan didn’t…the world where Sasha acted cold, fake. Stefan turned away from the memory, clinging to those of a warm Sasha with hair like fire and a smile that was only for him.
He realized he was staring when Sasha caught his eye and quirked a brow in amused query. Flushing, Stefan turned his attention back to the fire.
Fritz coughed, obviously trying not to laugh at something Drache had said. It was almost funny, how Stefan could tell now when Fritz was reacting to Drache rather than his surroundings. "The day is young yet, and I do believe that we have to time go hunting."
Stefan nearly groaned.
"Killian," Fritz continued, voice sharp. "Gather your things, you and I are going to scrounge up every last rabbit we possibly can. I do not like the taste in the air. We’d do well to have as much food as possible."
"Do you want me to help?" Stefan asked, puzzled. Usually, he and Killian were the two to do the hunting.
Fritz smiled in a strange way that Stefan didn’t quite get. "No, Killian and I will suffice. Sasha no doubt would like very much to take a nap, and you can tend the fire and all." He winked, then glared at Killian. "Move along quickly, now."
Grumbling and muttering, Killian obeyed. Stefan stifled a sigh and poked at the fire, wishing he knew what to do about his oldest friend.
It still was strange, even after all these months, to think that Killian had a crush on him. Or used to, anyway. Stefan had been struggling to figure out a way to talk about it, knowing that’s what he should do…but Killian refused, always dodging out.
More often than he liked admitting, feeling guilty, Stefan had wished Killian had not followed after him.
A hand landed on his, and Stefan jumped even as he realized it was only Sasha. He blinked, thoughts shifting from frustration over his friend to noticing just how…stunning Sasha always looked in firelight. It made his hair and eyes almost glow, though Stefan would never say that aloud. It would make him sound like a stupid kid.
He knew Sasha hated his long hair, but secretly Stefan hoped he never got around to cutting it. Before he’d even realized he’d moved, his fingers were combing carefully through the deep red strands. No matter how often he touched Sasha’s hair, he was always vaguely surprised to find it cool to the touch.
Sasha smiled in that faint way of his and slid his gloved hand along Stefan's arm. The leather was slick, warm – but not nearly as warm as the lips that pressed a kiss to the palm of his hand, those gold eyes never leaving his.
"Here I was beginning to think you truly intended only to tend the fire while they were gone," Sasha murmured, then tugged hard, chuckling as Stefan toppled into his lap.
"What?" Stefan managed, face heating as he realized he was straddling Sasha, breaths becoming harder to draw as he began to notice things. How hot Sasha was, the hard muscles of his thighs, the smooth chest beneath the shirt across which his hands were splayed for balance. A gloved hand curled around his hip, slipped beneath the edge of his shirt. "S-Sasha…"
Sasha chuckled. "Did you not notice that Fritz purposely gave us time alone?"
Stefan groaned in embarrassment at that, to think Fritz knew exactly what they’d be doing…but even as his face burned, Stefan was giving in as Sasha tugged him down and took his mouth in a heated kiss. "Sasha…"
"Mmm, you are pretty when you same my name that way, sweet," Sasha replied, voice soft and husky; it always made Stefan ache. He squirmed restlessly, fingers moving of their own volition to find the pale skin that was as fascinating as the red hair, pushing damp, stiff clothes out of the way. His movements stuttered, faltered, as Sasha’s fingers found their mark. "So very fine, sweet…" Sasha tugged him back down for another kiss, and Stefan melted into it.
He broke away only because he had to breathe, and his eyes landed on Sasha's bandaged arm. "Your arm," he whispered, even as he shivered beneath the too-knowing touches assaulting him. "Sasha!"
Sasha chuckled and dragged him back down, close enough to put teeth and tongue to Stefan’s throat. "Why do you think you’re on top, sweet?"
Groaning, dizzy in a way that only Sasha could make him, Stefan fell beneath the waves assaulting him, hoping that it took Fritz and Killian a long, long time to find some rabbits.
A softly muttered "Shut up, Drache" stirred Stefan from his heavy doze, and he sat up with a faint groan, rubbing his eyes and immediately regretting the way he’d shoved back the blankets.
Nearby, the fire had gotten far too low. "Sorry," he muttered, stumbling, body still awkward and heavy with sleep.
"S’alright, lad," Fritz said with a quiet chuckle. "You look worn out. Go back to bed."
Face feeling as thought it were far hotter than the fire Fritz coaxed back to life, Stefan wasted no time in obeying. "Where’s Killian?" he managed, tugging the blanket back up, snuggling against Sasha, who immediately curled an arm around his waist before falling back asleep.
"Tending the rabbits," Fritz replied. "He’ll be along." His face clouded briefly and Stefan wondered tiredly if Killian had tried to pick a fight or something. Fritz mumbled something to Drache and rolled his eyes – then smiled at Stefan. "I would imagine you are hungry?"
"Yes," Stefan muttered, burrowing further down into the blankets to hide his flaming cheeks.
Fritz laughed and set to work preparing a meal and tea.
Stefan immediately felt guilty and forced himself to sit up. Fritz had just spent all day hunting and dealing with Killian so he and Sasha could have some time alone. "I’ll do it," he said, wincing slightly as his muscles protested. "You spent all day hunting."
"Well, I admit I will not argue you too much over it. Let me make the tea at least. I think that if I stop moving for too long, I shall sleep even heavier than our Sent killer."
More guilt pricked at Stefan. Sasha was exhausted, and of late his skin was a bit paler than usual…and he’d been sipping at his flask more frequently than was normal. He’d killed four Sents since they’d fled Raven Knoll. Stefan loved to watch him do it, even as he longed to help and loathed seeing Sasha in such danger…and facing it alone. But Stefan knew he wouldn’t be able to help in a fight. No one in Schatten had thought such a thing possible let alone trained for it.
It was the magic, however, that he suspected really wore Sasha out. Why, he didn’t know, and prying into it was like trying to learn more of Sasha’s past – there were questions Sasha simply did not like. He should have let Sasha rest the entire day, instead of…but Sasha had started it?
Light, that sounded childish.
Sighing at himself, Stefan set to work throwing together what they had to make a sloppy sort of soup, wishing he had the time and resources to make a real soup, something thick and warming and flavored with Maja’s herbs…
"You seem to be in much better spirits," Fritz said with a smile, his laughter kind. "I’m certain Sasha is as well. To be close to your lover but not able to touch…" A sad smile shaped his mouth. "It is a hard thing."
Stefan nodded, not trusting himself to speak.
"Are you also now perhaps convinced that I am no threat to you?"
Cringing, mortified he’d been noticed, Stefan adamantly nodded his head. "I—"
"You are young," Fritz interrupted gently. "There is no cause for concern. Now, finish that food as your friend is coming and I’m certain he’s as ravenous as the rest of us." He rolled his eyes and smiled in wry amusement. "If not more so, as keeping up that foul temper takes far more energy than anything the rest of us have done." Winking, he set to pouring the tea as Killian stomped inside.
Sighing, sensing he was going to spend the rest of his trip hideously embarrassed, Stefan made himself finish the improvised meal and dish it out – nearly dropping his own bowl when a hand landed on his thigh.
"That’s the second time you’ve scared me," he said, frowning at Sasha, then promptly forgetting what he’d just said as he watched Sasha rake back his hair and pull up his shirt, the dark fabric and that pale skin…
Sasha chuckled. "Perhaps you should stop getting lost in those clouds, sweet."
"He’s always been that way," Killian said in a tone that wasn’t quite nasty, but close enough Stefan’s smile faltered.
"The constant motion of his mind is his greatest charm," Sasha replied quietly but firmly.
Stefan smiled, wanting to hide but unable to look away from the gold eyes staring into his. "Hungry?"
"Quite," Sasha murmured, "but I suppose food will suffice."
Not sure how to respond to that, Stefan shoved the full bowl he held at Sasha, then turned to accept the two brimming cups of tea.
Soft chuckles surrounded him, and if he hadn’t been so embarrassed he would have rolled his eyes. He looked to Killian for support…but Killian merely stared into the fire, or at least seemed to, his eyes looking oddly blank from Stefan’s angle.
"I wonder if, once all the Sents are dead, we will have the energy to continue this mad quest of ours," Fritz asked idly, quietly sipping his tea, rolling his eyes at whatever Drache said to him.
Killian’s head shot up. "Pointless quest. No one can kill Teufel, and even assuming you did there will be no god to care for Schatten."
"Care?" Sasha repeated coldly. "Forcing people to live in darkness and terror is not care. Creating the Sentinels is not care. Preordaining the lives of every soul in Schatten in not care. It is cruelty."
Stefan shivered, as awed and fearful as he always was when Sasha spoke of such things. In the past few months it had become slightly more real to him…but most of him still boggled at the idea. Would they really be able to get past the Great Wall and into Verlorengehen? Was Verlorengehen still there? Was there truly a great Citadel?
He wanted to believe Sasha, and would believe Sasha, even if Killian’s words made sense. Lord Teufel ruled over Schatten, as was proper since the fall of Lord Licht…but to be free of the Sentinels…to see a sunlit sky…to see what Sasha looked like standing beneath a sun like he’d seen in his books, in the Temple of Sunrise…
For that, Stefan thought he would do a great deal. It was rather frightening, but he wouldn’t run from it. He’d chased after Sasha, he was going to stay with Sasha.
Killian, however, would not be thwarted. "Even if you get past the Great Sentinels and Wall – what about the Holy Sentinel?"
Sasha shrugged and did not reply, which only infuriated Killian more.
Stefan struggled for something to say, to break the tension, anything. Why did his best friend have to hate his lover so much? His lover. He never got tired of thinking that. Here he’d thought never to find anyone at all…and the most incredible man he’d ever met belonged to him.
For now, at least. Sasha wouldn’t want him forever, he was sure…but he’d deal with that when he had to. Right now he had to deal with Killian. "How many rabbits did you get?" he finally asked.
Killian glared at him, recognizing the feeble effort to change the conversation. "Four." He turned back to Sasha. "Killing Lord Teufel is impossible."
"Yes, I know all about gods and impossible," Sasha said, voice deceptively light. On his finger, the strange silvery ring he wore seemed to shimmer, flash. "I also know how wrong Teufel is. He is no god and should not play at being one."
"He is more of a god than you!" Killian snarled. "Arrogance gets men killed!"
Sasha’s brows went up. "Peculiar words for a mere boy," he said. "Repeating tidbits of conversations to which you should not have been listening?"
Killian said nothing, merely glowered into his stew and ignored them all.
"Killian…" Stefan said quietly.
Snarling, Killian abruptly slammed his bowl down, then stood and stalked to the door.
"I’m sorry," Stefan said miserably into the silence that fell.
A hand stroked soothingly along his thigh, then Sasha cupped his face and turned it to brush a soft, soothing kiss across his mouth. "Sweet, there is nothing for which you must apologize. It is only to be expected that our actions upset him, and we have already discussed what else is upsetting him."
Stefan nodded and tried to be soothed by the kiss, the touches.
"Sents!" Killian came rushing in shouting, waving his hands wildly about, eyes wide with fear. "Great Sents! Outside!"
"Ridiculous," Fritz said sharply. "I would have sensed them."
"I’m not a liar!" Killian said.
Sasha sighed and stood, quickly gathering up his weapons.
"Be careful of your arm," Stefan said softly, looking anxiously up at Sasha, who leaned down to kiss him in reassurance, smiling in a way that stole Stefan’s breath. As if Stefan’s words had particularly pleased him.
"I will," Sasha said. "Likely it is just a couple of adults, if anything at all."
"I know a Great Sent when I see one!" Killian snapped, overhearing him.
"There is no way there could be three Great Sents outside," Sasha replied, though he held his coiled whip in his hand, ready to strike at a moment’s notice.
Stefan glared at Killian in warning as he passed, then fell into step alongside Fritz, staying several steps behind Sasha.
"Fire and ash…" Sasha said, voice unsteady in a way Stefan had never heard it.
As he stepped outside, he got a look at what awaited them and felt a chill that had nothing to do with the snow and ice.
Three Great Sentinels, gathered around the corpse of their comrade not too far away. In the gloom of early evening, they were the most ominous of shadows. Stefan swallowed, throat suddenly dry, and hugged himself to still his trembling. "Sasha…"
"Fire and ash!" Sasha swore again, this time with his usual vehemence. Any other time, Stefan would have laughed at the strange curse.
He jumped, startled, as Sasha suddenly spun around and grasped his shoulders. Those dark gold eyes blazed as they never had before, and Stefan shivered beneath the intensity of the stare. "Sasha…"
Then Sasha kissed him, harder and more fiercely than he’d ever done. "I do love you, Stefan."
The words left Stefan reeling, and he could only stare and try to regain his footing as he watched Sasha pull out his flask and drink deeply from it, grimacing at the taste as he always did.
"Get back," he said quietly, motioning all three of them to return to the small stone room. "I do not know just how much damage this will do." He looked at Stefan, at Fritz, then glared hard at Killian before shifting his gaze back to Stefan. "Nor do I know how this will affect me…"
He never finished what he wanted to say, as the Great Sentinels finally grew impatient and started to move forward.
Sasha whirled around and spread his arms wide. "Scorching monsters. I will show you why Order always falls to Chaos. Thunder and lightning. Wind and rain. Snow and ice. All the power of the winds and seas. I invoke the names and powers of the gods of storms. Raiden. Kindan. Nankyokukai."
For a single long moment the world seemed to fall into perfect silence. Stefan swore he could hear the sound of his own heart beating.
Then everything exploded, the sky tearing apart in a way he’d never seen it do. The worst spring showers were nothing like this, the nastiest blizzard nowhere near this frightening and disorienting.
Everything shook, trembled; it felt as though the sky were coming apart and falling down. Wind, sleet, hail, snow.
Stefan didn’t protest as Fritz dragged him the rest of the way inside, dropping to his knees when his trembling became too much to bear, wishing the world would hold still again, wondering if Sasha was all right in the middle of the terrible storm.
Everything crashed louder than ever, then Stefen heard the terrible sound of Great Sents screaming – in pain.
As they lay dying.
Then there came a sudden, jarring silence.
Stefan stood cautiously, not quite trusting his legs – but when he did not fall over, he bolted outside.
The field looked torn asunder, the ground torn up in places, scorched in others, a soft, light snow falling gently about.
An unmistakable splash of deep, burning red in the middle of the ruined field, just a few yards from…
Three Great Sents. All dead, lying in thick pools of their own blood, scales as ravaged as the field in which they lay.
Stefan didn’t spare them a second glance, but bolted for Sasha, kneeling and scooping him up, shuddering at how cold he felt. "Sasha, Sasha…" He fought back sobs at how eerily still he was, how terribly cold, shuddering at how faintly he could hear Sasha’s heart beating.
Beating. His heart was beating. He wasn’t dead.
"Get him inside!" Fritz said sharply, giving Stefan a nasty shock – he had not heard the man come up, and that was the fourth time in a day that he’d been scared witless by someone. But he obeyed, stepping aside so that Fritz could lift and carry Sasha, following close behind, immediately stripping Sasha out of his clothes once he was safely inside, shuddering at how cold and frozen he felt.
"Rest with him," Fritz said sharply. "He must be near frozen, your warmth – and presence, I shouldn’t doubt – will help."
Too scared to be embarrassed, Stefan obediently stripped and paused only to find Sasha’s flask before curling up next to him and tugging the blankets up over them. He shivered at the touch of Sasha’s cold skin, but only cuddled closer, working one hand free of the blankets to pet and stroke Sasha’s hair, trace the line of his cheek. "Sasha…"
There was no reply, but Stefan could feel Sasha slowly warming, could feel his heart beating, if only faintly, and he could hear Fritz muttering to Drache as he took care of matters, no doubt preparing tea. Fritz was like Maja – tea fixed everything.
Stefan distantly thought that was rather a stupid thing to think about when his lover was almost dead, but before he could work out whether or not it truly was a stupid thought, fear and exhaustion from worrying carried him into sleep, lulled by the faint beating of Sasha’s heart.
Fourteen
Sasha slowly opened his eyes, and did it only because the motion was automatic. It wasn’t until he saw he was staring up at a dark, stone ceiling that he realized he was awake.
He was fairly certain he was supposed to be dead.
Feeling stiff, heavy, probably from being abed for so long, Sasha forced himself to move – though in the end, all he could manage was to turn his head. His eyes landed on Fritz, who’d been reading the history book Sasha had stolen…how long had he been asleep?
He licked his lips, realizing suddenly just how dry his mouth and throat were. "How long?" he asked hoarsely.
Fritz closed the book and set it aside, and leaned forward to help Sasha sit up before picking up his own cup full of water and pressing it carefully into his hands. "Two weeks."
Sasha winced. "Stefan?"
"Is a mess. The lad has barely left your side for more time than was strictly necessary – and only after I threatened him for an hour. Licht spare me from ever dealing with young men ever again." He rolled his eyes, but a smile tugged at his mouth. "How do you feel?"
"As though I was left to scorch and then tossed into the scrap pile," Sasha said.
Fritz laughed. "Drache says for a while you very much looked it."
"Two weeks…" Sasha sighed and raked back his hair, then took a careful sip of water, wanting to drink it all down but knowing that was a bad idea.
Fire and ash he was tired of being weak. Pathetic. Just once he would like to feel strong.
At least now that necessity was saving people – even if they didn’t know or possibly even care.
Stefan…
Sasha took another sip of water. "The Great Sents?"
"All dead. It was quite the sight to see. I do not envy you that power, Sasha." Fritz rolled his eyes. "Shut up."
A faint smile reached Sasha’s face, the familiarity of Fritz bickering with Drache somehow soothing, steadying. "I am sorry to have collapsed yet again. Though I am surprised…" He frowned, and looking at the ring on his hand. "I did not expect to survive."
"To be honest, for a while we did not think you would make it. Stefan was losing his mind. Getting sustenance down you has been a trial. You make for a very poor patient, I will tell you that." A smile eased any sting from the words.
It was rather disconcerting. He’d heard much the same back home, the few times he’d been bedridden. He was too independent to make a good patient. Yet Fritz smiled over it…no one did that.
"I should not be alive," he said. "The High Priest of Pozhar warned me a thousand times and more not to invoke the power of all three Sacred Storm Bringers. I better understand why now."
"Indeed," Fritz replied. "Even Drache was rendered silent. It is one thing to hear him mention such gods from time to time…quite another to see such evidence of them. I am glad you survived." He hesitated.
Sasha motioned for him to speak, though it was difficult – suddenly he was quite exhausted, and his chest throbbed with a persistent, too-familiar ache.
"If you will take advice from a crazy priest who presumes to count himself your friend…"
Friend. Sasha blinked, then lifted his eyes to stare at Fritz. He’d sensed that kindred spirit…but…he had Stefan, he knew that. For however long he lived, he had Stefan. Still…he did not have friends. His life had not encouraged such things, and even if it had…his own bitterness had ruined his chances. "I would take advice from a friend, yes."
Fritz smiled, and Sasha could see in his face that he felt the same. He fought against the bitterness that tried to well up at the thought that he was going to die right as he’d started finding somewhere he could be happy…be what he could have been, had he not let the bitter disappointment of one night ruin him.
The smile faded almost immediately, however, as Fritz turned somber. "You need to tell Stefan that if this happens a second time, you will not be waking. I know your time is short, and I can deal with that…my friend. Stefan will not take it so well, and he should be braced for it."
Sasha nodded, feeling every bit of his age. "I know," he said quietly. "I kept putting it off…and I did not expect to be ambushed by three Great Sents." He shivered as memories of that encounter flooded him. Not that the Sents had been given a chance to attack him, the fury of the storm had prevented that. But it had been cold, disorienting, draining. Frightening, if he were honest. He never wanted to do that again…though he would if he had to. "I will address the matter soon." Once he didn’t feel so very much like a babe.
Fritz nodded. "Get some rest then. You clearly still need it." He took the cup from Sasha and urged him back down, pulling the blankets up and settling them securely.
Sasha attempted to thank him, but suspected the words came out garbled as sleep overtook him.
When he woke again, the room was nearly pitch-black; only the low fire in the center of the chamber offered any light.
Feeling very much awake and revived, Sasha slowly sat up – abruptly realizing he was not alone. He looked down, impatiently pushing back his loose hair, and saw Stefan stretched out alongside him, one arm pillowing his head, the other stretched out across Sasha’s waist over the blanket, bundled in a couple of cloaks.
Shaking his head, exasperated, amused, and touched all at once, Sasha removed the arm from his waist and threw back the blankets, then carefully pulled Stefan beneath the blankets with him. He smiled faintly and brushed strands of blue-black hair from his cheek, caressing the line of his cheekbone.
Beneath his touch, Stefan stirred, shivered, then slowly his eyes fluttered and blinked – then widened as realization dawned. He made a choked sound that Sasha suspected was his name, and then his arms were full of a trembling, nearly-sobbing Stefan.
"Shh, sweet," he soothed, rubbing and caressing Stefan’s back, stroking his hair, holding him tight. "I am sorry to have worried you so."
"I thought—you wouldn’t wake—" Stefan shuddered and held him tight enough to nearly choke, head buried in the hollow of Sasha’s neck.
Sasha held him a moment longer, then pulled him gently back, cupping his face in one hand and kissing Stefan softly. "I am awake now, sweet. I apologize."
"You almost died," Stefan said. "I mean—you’re killing Sents, I knew—but you were so still. So cold. I couldn’t—" He leaned forward and kissed Sasha hard, nearly splitting his lip, and Sasha would have smiled at the boldness of it if the situation had not been so awful.
He didn’t need light to know that when Stefan finally pulled away, his face burned deep red. Stroking one burning cheek, Sasha sighed. "I wish there had been another way, but I had precious few options."
"I wish I wasn’t so useless," Stefan said miserably. "All we do is watch you fight and—"
Sasha cut him off with a kiss. "You are not useless, sweet. Never that."
Stefan nodded, but the tension in his body said plain as anything that he was far from convinced of that.
"Where are Fritz and Killian?" Sasha asked, as much to distract Stefan as to satisfy his own curiosity. It was clear, even in the dimly lit room, that the other two were not present.
"They went to the village," Stefan said quietly. "The snow is finally melting, and Fritz said they should go for fresh supplies while the weather was holding."
Sasha was torn between gratitude and frustration. "I see," he said with a sigh.
In his arms, Stefan tensed again.
"Sweet, as much as I would love nothing more than to strip you bare and wear myself to exhaustion loving you…we had best talk."
Stefan’s arms tightened around him, first in embarrassment and then in worry. "What about?" he asked uncertainly. "You…are you sorry you said…"
"Sorry I said what?" Sasha asked, confused.
Stefan pulled away, shoulders hunched in obvious misery. "Before you cast the spell," he said, then made to move to the fire.
Comprehension dawned. "No," Sasha said, and yanked him back, kissing Stefan fiercely, leaving them both gasping for breath. "I love you, Stefan. No matter what. Never doubt that."
The dark was not enough to hide the joy that sparked to life in those pale lavender eyes before shyness drove Stefan to look away, managing a soft "I’m glad you’re alive" before he bolted to build up the fire, flooding the room with more light.
"Come back to bed, sweet."
Stefan frowned at him, though the happiness brought by Sasha’s words lingered. "What do we have to talk about?"
Sasha sighed. "To be blunt, sweet – the fact that I am dying."
"…Dying?" Stefan repeated faintly, obediently moving back to the bedroll and allowing Sasha to bundle him close so that he sat between Sasha’s legs, cuddled up against his chest, the blankets like a nest around them.
"Yes," Sasha replied, brushing a faint kiss across his temple, closing his eyes to enjoy Stefan’s scent for a moment. "Maja discovered it when I collapsed in the village…Fritz realized it that morning in the inn." He picked up one of Stefan’s hands and held it to his own chest. "My heart is weak, sweet. It’s the reason I’m always collapsing in such dramatic fashion when I cast too many spells. Why I tire so easily. Why I did not think I would survive invoking the Sacred Storm Bringers…and it is definitely the reason I will likely not survive facing Teufel."
Stefan was still and silent.
"It’s true, sweet," Sasha said in reply to the protest he knew was coming.
"No!" Stefan retorted. "You survived this. You don’t have a weak heart. I know men with weak hearts, they’re nothing like you." He snatched his hand away and burrowed against Sasha as if trying to sink into him. "You’re not."
"Yes, I am. You can feel it yourself that my heart does not beat true. The flask I carry contains a tonic that helps steady it, but it will not work forever and is itself a sort of poison if taken for too long. If Teufel himself does not kill me, then sometime very soon my heart is finally going to give out. The healer who made the tonic said it was astonishing I was still alive…" Sasha frowned in thought. "I think I am only because at the moment I should have died, the High Priest of Pozhar healed the damage which had been done, and he is the most powerful sorcerer in the world."
"There must be a—"
Sasha stopped the words with a finger to Stefan’s lips. "No, sweet, there isn’t. I am sorry. I tried to make you leave because I knew it was cruel to be close to anyone. I came here to kill Teufel and die. I am sorry."
In his arms Stefan was still, but the fingers gripping his shirt trembled and his breaths were unsteady. "There’s nothing we can do? How long…?"
"I don’t know how long. As I said, if Teufel does not kill me, it will not be much longer after that. There is nothing to be done…" Sasha drew a deep breath and let it out slowly, thinking, wondering. "But…perhaps there is something you can do for me, sweet, if you do not mind."
Stefan pulled away far enough to look at him, eyes bright with misery Sasha knew Stefan was too stubborn to let become tears. "What?"
Sasha stroked the line of his cheek, something he’d done a hundred or more times now and would never grow tired of doing. "With Teufel fallen, Schatten can begin to rejoin the world. It will rejoin the world, I vow it. When the barriers fall…" Sasha turned to look into the fire as things he’d not thought about for a long time surfaced in his mind.
"When Schatten is once more open to the world, Pozhar will be the first country to visit. It is ruled by a kind, honorable woman. Queen Sonya. When you see her—"
"A queen?" Stefan blurted. "I would never see a queen. There’s no way, I’m just—"
Sasha chucked softly, cutting him off. "You will. When you do see her, Stefan, would you do something for me? It is not fair of me to ask…"
"I want to do something," Stefan said in his stubborn way, mouth turned down in something that was not quite a frown, not quite a pout. "Whatever it is, I promise I will do it."
Smiling, Sasha could not resist leaning down to kiss him briefly, softly. "You are a treasure, Stefan. Never let anyone convince you otherwise." He brushed his thumb across those kiss-damp lips, then let his arm fall with a sigh, eyes dragged back to the fire for a moment before returning to Stefan.
"What do you want me to do, Sasha?" Stefan asked, lavender eyes so intent as they watched him.
"When you see Queen Sonya, would you tell her all that I’ve done here? And tell her…tell her that Nikolai said he was sorry. For everything."
Stefan blinked, nodded slowly. "Nikolai?"
Sasha laughed faintly at the confusion on his face. "Yes. Not that it matters, for I want nothing to do with the name anymore, but my full name is Nikolai Aleksandr Krasny."
"That…sounds like a fancy name," Stefan replied. "No wonder you know so much stuff. Were you important, back home?"
"No," Sasha said with a snort. "The position I held was important, but not I. Nor was anyone sorry to see me surrender the position. I am Sasha now, and that is all I want to be."
Stefan hesitated, finally staying silent, curling back up against Sasha’s chest.
"What is it, sweet?"
"You’ve never talked about yourself. I want to know, but…if I ask, I’m afraid you’ll just say no again."
Sasha sighed, running his fingers through Stefan’s hair, stroking his arm, soothing with touch what he couldn’t with words. "I wasn’t a nice person in Pozhar, sweet. I let one small incident turn me into a person I did not much like. In coming here, I was trying to leave that person behind. I did not mean to upset you. What did you want to know?"
"You said…back when you talked about Killian…you said someone called you absurd…"
It was surprising, how much less that hurt these days. Stefan was healing more than he’d ever know. Still, it would always ache a bit. "Ah, sweet. I cannot believe you remembered that. It’s not so interesting a story, really…"
"Everything about you interests me," Stefan said stubbornly. "I don’t understand why anyone would call you absurd for-for loving them."
Sasha almost laughed. He would say young men were always so uncertain, but uncertainty wasn’t limited to youth. "It was long ago, sweet…" He’d never told anyone that story. Not even Sonya.
Taking a deep breath, Sasha began to tell it. "I was young, about eleven. I was scared because I always felt so weak, and my chest ached, but I did not want anyone in the palace to know – least of all my parents… So I ran off to a small village and the healer there, of whom my nurse spoke often."
"He told me I had a weak heart. That the things I loved to do, I must stop doing. That I would likely die well before I should. I was devastated, and left the healer’s hut not knowing what to do, where to turn… A fortune teller stopped me on my way out of the village." Sasha laughed sadly, remembering how stupid he’d been. The fingers stroking along his back were comforting, and let him keep talking. "She told me that I would ‘fall in love with a king’ and I was stupid enough to believe her. A scared boy gullible to the words of a charlatan looking for amusement. Desperate, I guess, to believe in anything happy – and as it happened I already had a young boy’s crush on my best friend, who at that time was the crown prince…"
Stefan rippled with shock in his arms. "Crown prince?" he stammered. "Sasha, who are you?"
"Only Sasha, sweet, I promise you."
"So what happened?" Stefan asked faintly.
"I was ecstatic," Sasha replied, staring past the fire, fighting against the pain that rose up. "I had a weak heart, but what did it matter if I was meant to be with my best friend? That sort of thing was frowned upon in my homeland, but I could not see that stopping us. The foolish, naïve thoughts of a scared young boy…"
"So I did what the healer said and gave up most of my pursuits, focusing instead on scholarly studies as my parents wanted, swiftly rising through my classes, making my mark…until it was all but decided that one day I would replace the current Advisor and serve at my best friend’s side."
Stefan choked. "Advisor?" he said weakly. "To a king? You worked for a king?"
"Yes, sweet."
"You said you weren’t important…" Stefan said quietly. "That…that must make you…"
"The second most powerful man in all Pozhar, at one point, but as I said – it was the position, not the man." Sasha shook his head. "It doesn’t matter, sweet. I am Sasha now. Should I stop? This is why I never spoke of it; I knew you’d be upset."
Stefan vehemently shook his head. "I want to know."
Nodding, Sasha continued. "On the day of his eighteenth birthday, a mere six months before mine…I called him out to the garden to speak privately…"
I love you.
You’re up to something. Are you worried about the appointment?
…What? Why…why are you laughing?
Come on, really. What are you up to? You’re usually more creative than this, though. Misha tried the same thing yesterday, did you know? I guess I forgot to tell you.
Misha? He’s a lying, manipulative bastard.
Yes. You’re a smart, clever bastard. So why all this ridiculousness? You know I’ll appoint you.
I’m not joking. I’m perfectly serious. I—why would you think I’m lying?
Men don’t love men, not the way you’re trying to play it.
That’s absurd and you know it.
You’re the one being absurd. Stop playing these games.
I’m not playing games! The fortune teller said I’d fall in love with you. It’s fate!
Ha! Now I know you’re up to something. Tell me what you’re scheming, I’ll help you.
…I’m serious…
Did my sister put you up to this? That would be like her, of course. Come on, let’s go back to the party.
But…I…I’ll follow you in a moment. There is something else I have to do first.
Suit yourself….no more games. Not this kind.
I will never mention it again. You have my word.
"After that, I went out and indulged in all the alcohol and flesh I could afford until I passed out," Sasha finished. "Until today, I have not mentioned it."
Stefan shifted, reaching up to wrap his arms around Sasha’s neck. "I wouldn’t have laughed. Even if I’m just a peasant and you’re a-a-prince or something."
Sasha laughed. "I’m no prince, sweet." He didn’t bother to mention that as the Duke of Krasny, and cousin to the Queen, he was only half a step away from being a prince. It didn’t matter. He wasn’t that man anymore. "And I have said before, Stefan, that a thousand of me do not begin to compare to you." He tugged Stefan’s head back far enough to lean in and take a long, slow, sweet kiss. "Whatever happens in life, Stefan, never doubt that I love you."
Stefan smiled shyly, touching his fingers to Sasha’s cheek, lavender eyes bright and intense. "I love you too, Sasha. I wish…"
"I know, sweet," Sasha said softly, then leaned in to kiss him again before sadness could spoil what happiness they had.
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Date: 2007-06-18 10:40 pm (UTC)He could not. Licht is dead, and so could not bestow his magic to Sasha (or the ring, rather).
Oh, I snerk and make LotR jokes all the time >_>;; I kinda didn't want to do a ring, but logic dictated...
Heh. I worked damned hard to make certain no one made a connection if I could help it. In Krasny's defense, you never get his POV on anything in the first two books. I'm sure if you only say Kyo from the POV of others who didn't know him well, he'd come off a jerk tool. Plus, you only saw Krasny in hard situations, never when everything was calm and relaxed.
That aside, there were never any clear hints, no. But it is, in some small part, his presence that has allowed much of everything in LG to happen. Almost everyone who had a role in the other stories met him at some point - Kyo and Taka, Dym, Culebra, Gael & Freddie, and would have been affected by the fact he is essentially pure chaos at heart. There was always a prophecy that the gods would return, but ironically it wasn't until chaos outbalanced order in the world that things could fall just right for the gods to return -- and Krasny's existence helped that.
Roughly ^^;; It always makes sense in my head, but when I type it out I begin to wonder if I missed something.
As to the badass, Krasny has always been that way. Again, you don't get to see it ^^;; And he gave it up for years b/c of his health, but whips especially he was always extremely fond of.
no subject
Date: 2007-06-19 03:31 am (UTC)Whips are kinky. That's all I have to say. And possibly the most underrated weapon of choice in fiction. Granted, Indiana Jones had a whip. But I doubt he used it with such finesse. And Jones didn't have the power to invoke the Gods. :P
PS: So is that how Pozhar uses magic? Or is it just this special case since he, the blessed of the remaining gods, holds the (one) ring (of power)?