Summary

Source material: Final Fantasy (XIV/WOTV crossover).

A great hero falls from the sky and tries very hard not to disrupt the power balance of an unfamiliar world, while the king who finds him would have him tip the scales in his favor. It should be a very clear case of hero defeating villain, but they're both down horrendous, so instead it's a meet-cute seasoned with a heavy sense of foreboding.

Rating: X (18+)

Incorporated Elements

[washed up catboy] [an old man most foul] [willing captive] [gratuitous descriptions of a non-op trans man] [gratuitous descriptions of a gaunt old cis man #equality] [GAY SEX] [literally busting a nut laughing]

Planned Elements

[Vaguely regency-styled ballroom intrigue!] [Tactical Mpreg] [Termination of pregnancy] [Some kind of mind meld] [Timeloop]

By proceeding, you affirm that you are over 18 years of age and accept that this work may contain elements listed above.

Our Leads

Praise for the ship

"they're so oceanographer's choice" -the slug

Supporting Cast

Gilgamesh

Not at all to be confused with Gilgamesh of FFV fame. Known and revered in Ardra as The Winged One.

Serjes

Steadfast and decorated leader of Equito, the first division of Wezette's army. Utterly hollowed out by his hatred of the king of the country he serves.

Severo

A notable mage in Equito. Studious and averse to the sight of blood.

Yuni

An archer in Equito, seen often with Serjes and Severo. An experienced huntsman, despite his looks.

Viktora

A roaming and self-serving dragoon, originally from Wezette, invited back by Khury with the promise of generous wages and the title of queen.

Ygene

An archer in Wezette's second division, Stiriae. She is the longtime friend (and lover in secret) of Serjes.

Abbott

Bootlicking commander of Wezette's second division, Stiriae. As insufferable as he looks.

Glaciela

Khury's illegitimate daughter. Despite having won the battle for the right to succeed him, she has not been named heir to the throne — a title Khury is reticent to give and which Glaciela herself may not even want.

Author's Corner

Chapter 3 was drafted sober, "finished" and published while blitzed, and is currently undergoing (sober again) revisions. If you see dialogue missing tags: no you don't!

Scene 1

Most everyone who saw the falling star would commit to memory where they were and what they were doing at the time. King Khury Wezette was all alone, crossing his bedroom window as he went to wash his come from his hands.

The king had spent days composing letters of invitation to send to a particular dragoon. He was confident he could lure her into his service, and he spent yet more days waiting to hear that she had been tracked down so that he could send a courier. The letter of proposal was sent that morning. At first, Khury could only think of how little he looked forward to the possibility of actually having to lay with her. Then, he imagined what sort of person he might actually like to lay with. By the time he retired for the night, he was fantasizing, as he occasionally did, about dominating another man in bed.

Following so many days of frustration, he was quickly satisfied with nothing but the fantasy in his head and his cock in his hand. So quickly, in fact, that he had not found a handkerchief or anything to catch what he spilled. The warm afterglow was snuffed in an instant when he realized this, and with a strained sigh he rose to wash himself.

For the king, the sole advantage to having an intimate partner was that cleaning up his seed was not his responsibility. It went into a hole and he never had to think about it again… save for when it yielded another child to be accounted for, but with a man such as Khury had come to envision, that was irrelevant. All that he needed was a man who was above treachery and wanted to join him in bed. Alas, Khury would find no such man, neither within Wezette nor without.

At just that moment, a flash of light struck him through the window. The sound of an impact reached him several seconds later. The side of a mountain was still illuminated when Khury looked out.

Some called it a comet, some called it a star, some called it a meteor; most important was that it had landed. It was evident even from Khury's vantage point in Wezette Castle, miles away. By the next morning, he had gathered a hunting party to find the impact site. It was half a day's trip to arrive where disputes had already bubbled up between landowners over scattered crystals. One of Serjes's boys had a map drawn up to plot where they had been found.

"We saw the big one come down a few miles northeast, hitting the windward side of the mountain. Just yesterday I got a search party together to go make camp there," reported the local lord who had come to greet them— a petty man whose name was not important. "...It is yours, Your Highness. So are my men, if you have need of accompaniment."

"Good."

"There's been terrible snowstorms whipping up around it since it landed. Please go with caution, your Highness, especially if you should near the summit."

The warning only made Khury all the more determined to reach it swiftly.

The beasts on the mountain were whipped into a frenzy by the impact, but they presented no more than a set of targets for Khury. Even as the blizzard set in, his aim was unfailing. When he shot one, he looked for the next, and followed it until it turned and bared its fangs.

The last one had no fangs to bare; he simply stared at Khury through his helmet visor in the sudden pocket of calm air. So, Khury aimed his bow at the Winged One. "You will tell me precisely what you are doing here."

"I observed the fall of that star and sought to investigate."

"And what have you found?" Khury scoffed as his sight drifted to a human figure lying motionless on the ground. "The last poor sod to go searching, it would seem."

"No. I found precisely what you are looking for," Gilgamesh alighted on a flagstone behind the frozen figure. "This is the fallen star himself. Or, rather, the man who came encased within."

"Does he live?"

"Yes."

"And why do you stand waiting above him?"

"He is a wellspring of magical energy of a magnitude Ardra does not see. That he arrived from space in such pristine condition is testament to that."

Gilgamesh had no proof of his claims. The body did not move, but his dress was foreign and ornate, suggestive of a mage. Panels of fabric glowed softly. There was a leonine tail on it which Khury began to think might be connected to his body.

"I will advise you on this occasion. Using force will only drive him against you. Perhaps he will not use his magic for your ends at all. You must be willing to accept that keeping him out of the hands of your enemies will have to be enough.". "To that end, you will treat him with the utmost care, for once in your life."

"For once? What do you mean? Why is it only now that you seek to interfere with my ways— why not use your divine power to kill me outright?" To no response, he stared at Gilgamesh. Gilgamesh stared back from his impenetrable visor, and Khury's eyes were drawn again to the man on the ground. "The power this man must possess, then, for you to say such things... To beg mercy from me, not towards yourself but towards him…" Khury struggled to grasp what sort of ploy Gilgamesh attempted in offering such power. It would be a strange way to go about planting a spy.

"...The storm closes in. A fine test of your resolve."

Khury scoffed again.

"Abandon the opportunity to claim his power in order to save yourself, or risk your life to rescue him. You have come up the mountain and left your company far behind. He is alive by some magic, but as he is now, he will be only a burden."

"...You will take him if I do not. It is no choice." Khury raised his bow at Gilgamesh once more. "Be gone. If this is a test, you will not interfere." The blizzard swept in, and Gilgamesh was gone.

Scene 2

Khury was far indeed even from the camp he had set off from. He had wandered for hours in the thrall of his hunt. But, he had his prize. He slung the body over his shoulders and looked for cover. He could use the fresh bodies of his prey to keep himself warm, or at least to shield against the wind. He just needed to find the last one he had slain. The body he was already carrying, though, proved too burdensome.

If he could survive flying through the cosmos, he can wait now, Khury figured, and he laid him against the wall of the crater. He started looking for his last kill; it had not been far, and even in the blizzard he found it quickly. It was not large, but it would be something not entirely frozen to shelter him.

More difficult was returning. He found himself careening into a rock face as he went back in the general direction he had come from with only instinct to guide him. Fear began to press into his head as time passed, but he eventually saw a gentle gold radiance and dashed towards it. He dug into the snow then, building up the wall of the crater and soon enough finding that the wind now passed over his head.The fallen star was warm, and his attire, where not covered in metal, was made of wool- soft and dry. Khury considered how best to situate himself, and settled his head in the star's lap.

"King Khury? King Khury!"

He awoke under a dusting of snow, being jostled slightly by a hunting hound— no man would dare touch him, but it was quite urgent that he be roused somehow.

"Your Highness… What has happened?"

"We were separated in the blizzard. It is well that you found us," Khury answered calmly, seemingly unbothered by the deadly predicament he had been in. "I have our quarry. Frozen, but alive."

"Alive?"

"Have a look."

"What do you intend to do with...?"

"We shall see when he is awake."

The hunting party bore him on a sled to town, and there he was given a seat in the carriage. Khury was not averse to walking with his caravan, and he would often insist upon it, as he needed to stay keenly aware of his surroundings. But, the man from the fallen star was even more pressing a concern. He was unsure of how fast he might awaken, and so he decided he could bear to confine himself.

Khury stared and pondered. His hair was about as long as a cup of tea ought to be deep and was a shade of sage like Khury's own eyes. He seemed neither old nor young.

Nobody could hear Khury casting a spell over the sounds of wheels and footsteps, surely, and even if they did, it was a perfectly sensible act. Still, he made himself quiet. "Don this mantle, withstand the hail," He incanted in murmur. "Ward of ice— barblizzard."

A measure perhaps late, but it was not likely to hurt. He watched the glow of magic take, and sat back satisfied.

He then admired the man's form, such as he could see. Once he noticed that two spotted licks of hair atop his head were actually ears, the tail that curled around his waist intrigued him more. He wished somewhat for the man to awaken there in the carriage so that he could see it move.

Once in the castle, too, he would have eyes upon his revival efforts. He had in mind to thaw him in one of the castle's baths. That much could be secured with minimal scrutiny, but he would still need someone to stand watch, and that was dismaying. He had an intimate setting to meet this man now, but he would not get to make use of it before returning to the castle.

Khury was now sitting on the back-facing seat of the carriage with his silent companion, cold be damned. He draped his mantle over him.

Scene 3

"Have the concubine's bedroom made up for this guest— linens, gowns, and a fire."

"Yes, Your Highness."

"We shall meet you there shortly, once we have taken him to the baths to thaw him."

The castle steward set off, but Serjes was left with a question. "The concubine's bedroom?"

"His dress suggests a man of status and power. To throw him directly into a prison cell... Well, if he misbehaves, that is yet an option, but there is no need to subject one newly arrived and no doubt disoriented to such indignity."

Such considerations from the king were always to be expected. Khury never hesitated to ingratiate himself to unwitting persons who caught his eye. "Is there cause not to use another guest room?"

"We must take him to the baths, now," Khury dictated. "...As for your question, Serjes— the concubine's quarters offer a... Convenience. That is in the form of a secret entrance from my own bedroom. It will afford me greater ease in surveilling him."

"A secret passage... But if he is the mage he seems to be, that will leave you severely vulnerable, sir."

"I am confident in its security. That is all I shall say."

There was a low, constant rush audible when approaching the castle's baths.

"Help me strip him. These clothes will do us no good. His effects are all to be taken to the vault."

What business did a mage have wearing something so heavy?

Once the gauntlets were off, the robe was next. A thick wool dyed to be rich as night, with golden embellishments and illuminated gores in the skirt.

"Careful— it would be a shame to ruin something so fine." Khury tapped his fingers against the upper plate of the sabatons. "These must go next."
"Oh— mind that tail."

"Do we take this off as well, your highness?"

"For the sake of modesty, this will do. Take it all to the vault."

Severo left promptly once he had everything stowed in a linen basket. Khury turned his focus to Serjes. The consummate soldier he had placed at the head of his first division — surely if there was a single person in the castle whom Khury could trust in this moment, it would be him.

"Mind...? Oh. I am willing to—" Serjes began to reach for the man lying on the floor.

"No, I shall be handling him. You take no issue, I trust? I will need to disrobe."

"Then I shall watch the door and keep my back turned to you, sir. Should you need anything, you need only ask."

Khury was the one to take the frozen man into the warm bath. He balanced the man on his knees to keep his head above water. He had left his smallclothes on for modesty's sake.

"Fetch a cloth for me."

He wet it and pressed it to the ageless face, and he saw that Serjes had turned his back once more. He was less concerned with himself being seen indecent than he was about the man in his arms— how funny that was. The linen gown clung to the contours of his slumbering chest. Somehow that was impure to behold.

"...You are alive. I feel your pulse," Khury muttered to his patient. His voice was ever stern and cold, though if Serjes were to look he might see an uncharacteristic display of tenderness. Khury held his head close, safe in the knowledge that Serjes had no inclination to look at his bare back for even a moment. "For a mercy, you are hardly frostbitten, perhaps not at all. So... Will you wake?"

No change yet. Khury turned his focus to his limbs, massaging them with his thumb. It would speed his warming and loosen his stiff joints, and Khury was quite tickled by the whole process. He would not deny himself the strange but pleasant sense of pride. It was only first aid, and he was not even receiving thanks, but it put a warmth in his chest just to feel that his rescue would be successful.

Khury was startled when he finally stirred— just enough so to make him flinch. "There," he crooned. "Can you speak?"

He nodded with a hum of affirmation, but Khury took immediately to his stern manner. "You understand what I am saying, but can you speak?"

"Y—yes..."

"Good."

The man's ears flicked. Droplets hit Khury's face and made him flinch again. "Where am I?"

"Wezette Castle. Not that I could expect you to know. You are clearly not of this world..." He meant no insult "Sit up, will you? And, Serjes— another towel, please."

There was much hair to be dried enough that it would not drip in the castle halls, so he rubbed it vigorously with a towel. He heard little grunts, but nothing of protest.

"Forgive the indecency. There was no way to thaw you in the water without you drowning unless someone were to hold you. His Highness did not hesitate."

"Oh, that's... That's quite alright."

"But, you're staring," Serjes told him. Khury, for his part, had taken no offense, but he felt no need to give Serjes any ideas in saying so.

"Forgive me," the man said flatly. "Serjes, was it? Do you have another towel?"

Khury had risen and begun drying himself with the same towel he had used on that mane. He flushed and hoped that neither of the other men noticed. The stranger was still on his knees in the bath while he accepted the next towel from Serjes.

"Will you stand?"

"Can I stand, more like..." He muttered and got himself up with a groan. "Ah. Yes, I can..."

"Good. Come here and dry yourself."

"Oh, it's warm— This is right over the furnace, isn't it?"

"Indeed. What is it to you?"

"I have no idea what sort of place this is. Apart from it being a castle with a very nice open bath."

"Curious."

Khury dressed himself, and when he cleared his throat at Serjes's turned back, the man perked up instead and moved to help fasten his plate.

"You know what you are doing?"

"I imagine it's harder for him, since he's wearing such thick gloves… Is this right for you?"

"Yes, quite alright," Khury affirmed in passing and hastily reached for the next articles. He slipped his right arm into his half-coat, then cinched it with his belt. He wanted to dress himself as he felt his pride escaping him, but that man had already picked up his right pauldron and was standing behind him to place it. "Do stay where I can see you, boy."

The word boy: it had slipped out. He was helping Khury into his armor with all the swiftness of a squire who had done so every day for years. To think of this man in such a way felt strange, but not unwelcome.

"Lead the way, Serjes."

"Sir." Serjes turned sharply and walked out.

Khury assessed the curious form in front of him as a whole once more. The robe and armor had all done quite well to conceal the slight constitution of this man— it did not seem weak, but it was unexpected. It did not seem the body of a fighter of his apparent age; free of scars and defined more by bone and fat than muscle. He had hips slightly broader than the trunk of his body and a small but distinct pair of breasts.

"Does this satisfy your curiosity?"

"Yes. Now, as promised." Khury procured a gown from the side table. "Arms up."

"Before this goes any further, let me make something clear. I would still have you know me as a man— the finer details of my body be damned, that is how I have lived and I cannot bear to pretend otherwise."

"That is well. I had presumed as much, but for a time there, I was afraid."

"Why afraid?"

"Men, I find, are simpler to contend with. Men who want my throne seek to kill me outright. Such a straightforward approach I find admirable— and convenient. Whereas women seeking the same— with the exception of my daughters— invariably try to seduce me."

W'ren furrowed his brow at Khury.

"Why do you look at me so?" Khury withdrew his hands. "You are a stranger to this world, you could not possibly think yourself fit to rule over any part of it."

"No, I have no interest in ruling over anything. Never have." He shook his head and shrank back. "...But, the other duties I would assume come with being queen — your queen... These appeal to me."

Khury preferred direct answers, but he found it satisfying, sometimes, to tease them out. "By which you mean...?"

"Sleeping with you. Among other related duties, perhaps, but..." Met without any immediate response from Khury, he flustered. "Making love. Whatever you wish to call it— Sexual congress."

"Well. You need not be my queen for that, I assure you." The broadest grin yet had been on Khury's face before he had even asked to clarify, and now he knew he must have looked like such a fool (not that W'ren was in any state to notice). "Come. Still so exposed, you poor thing." Khury admitted him into his embrace. There was far more sense in proceeding slowly with him, but Khury was elated to have the opportunities he daydreamed about in the carriage. All he needed to do was open his arms and the man would fall in.

The thought still nagged that this, perhaps, was a trap set by Gilgamesh. Khury would have to wait to bed his prize. For now, he stroked its hair with great anticipation roiling in his chest. Another thought occurred to him. "My, how bold we have been to speak so far ahead of ourselves without even exchanging names."

"Oh. My name is W'ren Tia."

"The great king Khury Wezette." He even favored W'ren with a squeeze of the hand.

"King Khury..."

"Very bold of you indeed to suggest becoming my concubine." He grinned, and when W'ren flinched indignantly, he snorted.

"You've taken immense liberties to lay your hands on me, so..." W'ren defended, and then took on a wry smile. "And for my part, I find you very handsome."

It was only what Khury had provoked, but he did not know how to respond. It was direct praise, it was something he liked to hear, and it simply had to be honest. W'ren had not for a moment shied from Khury's arms, and Serjes had even remarked on how he stared in the baths. "...I never get to hear such things from boys."

"You don't do this kind of thing with other men, do you?"

"It is not often that men fall from the sky."

"And even less often that they survive, I would imagine."

"Hah! Indeed... It is well that you have your wits about you so soon." Khury was recomposed for the moment and smiling again. "Perhaps you do not realize this, but I found you at the summit of a mountain, laying unconscious while a blizzard raged about you. It is a miracle enough that you were alive— then that you were not frostbitten, nor harmed in the slightest, it would seem."

"I was protected by some magic, I would assume... I thank you for rescuing me all the same, for what peril that must have entailed."

Khury's attention was on W'ren's face. The angle he had now was much like that he had in the snow trench. The serenity upon it was much the same, but the slight motions made his heart quicken. He saw W'ren's eyes closing.

"Do all people have ears like yours where you come from? And tails?"

"No. They're characteristic of my people, the Miqo'te. I have known many Hyur like yourself."

"Humans. We call ourselves humans here."

"Humans. I see. Are there other races in the society of this world?"

"No. There have only been humans and beasts." Khury anticipated the next concern. "For our purposes, you are human as well." He hoped for another question to either leave W'ren's lips or spring to his own head, but there was nothing for the moment but a merciful knock at the door.

"Ah. This would be your supper."

After the handmaid had taken her leave, Khury watched W'ren. He had suggested that he was not a nobleman, but he was not lacking in table manners. His speech had been fine and polite as well. Acquainted with proper society, to be sure. Oh, but he did soon forego it and pick up the bowl to drink from it directly.

"Forgive me— I need this more than I realized."

Khury laughed. "Your candor is no object— but mind that you do not choke."His mind wandered, then, as he listened to W'ren gulping down his soup. It was despite himself that Khury had not frightened W'ren in the slightest. In his pride, he would have been loath to accept that Gilgamesh's direction was serving him well, but he was being served exceedingly well. Khury had not enjoyed an exchange with someone like this in years, and never before had such exchanges promised sex. He was even excited for the sex; that was novel. For the moment, he liked it, and he held a self-satisfied grin knowing that this reward for his kindness was not what Gilgamesh had meant.

W'ren finished off the soup and sighed.

"Shall I pass a compliment to the kitchen?" Coming up with that took effort from Khury, but he managed to say it convincingly enough, he believed.

"That a starved man enjoyed the meal...?" W'ren said that and laughed. "Backhanded, don't you think? It was very nice, though, so please give them their due."

Khury agreed, and then he moved on from trite words of hospitality to important matters. "You fell from the sky... How long did you spend in that star?

"I was not conscious, there is no way I could tell— the last thing I remember before that, I think... I was going to die, it felt like. I was exhausted, and all alone." W'ren shook his downcast head. "I couldn't tell you how I lived, let alone how I got here."

It wasn't a very exciting story, but Khury should not have expected it to be. "Before that, then... What happened to bring you close to death?"

"A man had come to duel me. But, I managed to kill him. I think. It's... Not as if I checked, but... He was hells-bent on this duel. I think death was the only thing that could have stopped him."

There began the implications of power which Khury in his lust had forgotten he was interested in. "You seem very peaceful. Why did you find yourself in such a duel?"

"I... The man was just mad. Mad about me, and in general."

"Surely there is more to it."

"Please forgive me if I do not want to speak of it. My story is a long one, besides, it would be difficult enough for me to tell to one from my own world." W'ren finally showed Khury a glimpse of something off-limits to him. Still in a genial mood, though, W'ren assuaged him. "...I will not ask that you immediately explain to me the grim details of your life, either— you are a king of age enough that you must have your own host of unspeakable experiences. Or so I would wager."

Khury raised a brow, but he found it acceptable that W'ren, even in guarding secrets, was disinclined to tell outright lies. "Very well. I will not press the matter at this time."

"Shall I tell you about something else?"

"What would you tell me?"

"Um..." Without a directing question from Khury, W'ren was momentarily at a loss. "Oh, there was a time I was... traveling abroad. In one town in this land totally foreign to me, on a sort of customary dare, I was given a single high-value coin to spend. I happened to be in want of a good meal, and I found a vendor with enough food to exchange for that coin. Skewers of lizard meat, steaks spiced to the point that my eyes watered from five fulms away, pots full of mealworms in a thick sweet glaze, a sort of mushroom bread…"

"Worms?" Khury revulsed.

"Yes. Such things were a delicacy in my own home city, so not as alien to me like it evidently is to you, but it was surprising to see them in such abundance, served as street food. I had a helping of them, and a helping of everything— a few helpings of everything, really; after all, I couldn't split the coin. And then, I was so nervous about offending the custom that I put it all away myself. Far more than a sane man would eat, but I did."

"I do not know what to make of the fact that this was the first story of yours to come to mind here."

"I'm very accustomed to traveling and needing to make friends in places with unfamiliar cultures, and I learned that it's easiest to talk about food."

"Hm. Such a thing has never occurred to me - at least not in any positive sense. I normally find it trite."

"In the context of high society and politicking, certainly. But as a traveler… I think of it this way: there's nowhere you can go where the people do not need to eat."

An insight Khury had truly never considered. He was unaware of himself as he did, but his eyes were growing wide and attentive. Left to his own choice of conversation topic, W'ren spoke glowingly, and so Khury was transfixed.

"Though I did find, in one case, that was not for a lack of trying." So Khury listened to W'ren speak on the cuisine of scholars who resented that they had to eat to survive, and then beyond that. He was content to sit still and listen, all the while studying how W'ren's face moved now that he was comfortable. And, though he had to keep in the back of his head that he would never even glimpse these places for himself, he found he was growing ever more certain that W'ren spoke true about his coming from another world. This would be an incredible bluff otherwise, to speak in rich detail of so many culinary traditions, and so scornfully of that loaf.

"All these in mind, then. How does your supper compare?"

"I... tend not to make such judgments," W'ren said. "Ordinary meals cooked up by laymen have moved me to tears before. Culinary excellence is not all that makes a meal; there is much to be said of the circumstances and the company as well. The soup was delicious, as I said, but what's more, I am very grateful to have been served a warm and satisfying meal when I could otherwise be alone dying a slow death in the wilderness, and I am deeply honored that it was under the personal care of a king."

"You certainly know how to flatter a man."

"I don't lie." W'ren seemed to expect a response, but there was nothing from Khury, who sat chewing on his thoughts.

W'ren had a forthright attitude not unlike many missionaries, all of whom had unfailingly irritated Khury with their mere presence. W'ren, however, had preached nothing but a love of food and company. He also had no master to speak of, and Khury did prefer the company of those who served themselves; with such people, he needed only to appease the individual. Loyalty to Khury himself was preferable over loyalty to the self, still, but he had yet to know true loyalty. If anyone could show it to him, though, W'ren showed the potential. He seemed the opposite of Viktora, if the stories about her were to be believed. That hunch alone was promising. And even Serjes, honorable as he was, had other ties in the world: friends in Rubeus, a deceased brother, and a girlfriend he kept secret. W'ren? He was a man all his own, and he was willing.

W'ren had been shifting in his seat, and as Khury began to come out of his deeper thoughts to admire his guest's superficial features yet again, he was gifted with a window of opportunity. W'ren stood up to stretch.

The gown hung over W'ren's breasts in a way that begged Khury to take them in his hands from below, to have the soft linen flush with them.

W'ren's manhood was body and soul, betrayed only by breast and womb, two things Khury had long tired of pretending he desired normally but that now commanded his attention. He chose to regard them not unlike his own scars. Unfortunate things he never would have desired, yet the wounds had healed and remained a part of him. He could feel where his skin was forever made into leather and think less of the wound and more of himself, less of those bed-ridden weeks and more of how he stood as king. Still he hated others to see them.

"I suppose I gave you little choice in the matter, but are you normally so comfortable with your body exposed in such a way?"

"Yes and no. I've been known to dress barely, but only when I am certain that I will not be mistaken for a woman." W'ren turned the subject towards Khury again before Khury could ask anything about the life W'ren lived. "I would be more reserved now if I hadn't seen the look of relief on your face when I confirmed to you that I was a man."

Relief was one way of describing it. Delight was another. "I was more than relieved."

W'ren regarded him with a smile, and then shyly cast his head down for a time

"So what do you think... I am a guest in your castle for now, but..."

"What do I think...?"

"What would you do with me? Where am I to go from here?"

"You needn't go anywhere. I sought you out— I sought the bright star which fell from the sky, and I promised to a divine witness that I should prove worthy of your trust.. I will gladly care and provide for you for as long as..." Khury felt a flash of embarrassment as he realized how close his words were to wedding vows, but it was not far from what he had wished. "For as long as you will stay. For as long as we live, if you so choose."

"Then what am I to do to earn that right? You will find I have no special value for having fallen from the sky. And I do not wish to be made an exhibit for my Miqo'te features."

"Without really knowing your capabilities..." Khury knew already what he wanted, exactly, but he considered his words carefully. Fortunately, he was given only listening ears. "As I have mentioned, I have no queen, at present, and of my surviving children... My last legitimate child is in exile. My other daughter remains in Wezette, having won over her siblings to stand first in the line of succession, but I do not yet have confidence that she could safely inherit the throne. She clings to her common family and her personal brigade."

"I will not be a soldier, nor an assassin," W'ren stated, "and I would make a poor spy."

"No, no, I do not ask that of you," Khury assuaged W'ren with a tone that approached sensual. He put his hands on W'ren's waist, and rubbed up and down his hips while reading his expression. It was softening at the touch. "...Bear a child for me. Another heir."

"Khury— Your Highness." W'ren's eyes had fluttered and shut in a moment of panic.

"You are a man. That places you above suspicion. I have my sights on another potential queen, but I admit, I find dismaying the prospect of copulating with her. I suspect she will feel the same. You, however…"

"I have not had courses in many years, but only because of a medicine I don't suppose I can find here... Even so, it will be difficult just to conceive. To carry it to term, and then for the child to survive… and even then, it will be obvious that the child is mine. So very obvious."

"But it is possible." Khury's eyes dug into W'ren for affirmation.

"It is possible."

"That is all the justification we need. You shall have everything you require," he promised as he put his hand on W'ren's cheek. "Provided eagerly by myself."

Scene 4

W'ren Tia knew he was perhaps too willing to serve this king. He had known Khury for a few hours. He knew Khury was handsome, powerful, and attracted to him. Khury was also a king in an unforgivingly cold land; he was most certainly an opportunist. His daughter was plotting rebellion and he knew about it. W'ren had also never been eager to have children. He never ruled it out as a possibility, but he had never thought that anything would outweigh the reservations he had. He had always struggled to interact with small children for extended periods of time and never enjoyed his duties of care to the tribe's infants. He also did not ever want to be described as a mother. In the moment as he considered Khury's request, though, these scarcely reached his mind over the most pressing concern: he had been alchemically masculinizing himself for some twenty years. His body was changed and aged. It would be dangerous on many counts. "Is there no other way I might serve you? I ask because I know this will be a long and trying ordeal— and even if I am fertile, carrying a child is dangerous at my age."

"I think, at present, you will find it the most comfortable, for you need not do anything more than stay alive and allow me to bed you until you are pregnant. I will consider other duties for you as well in the interim. Should another role present itself, I shall relieve you of this expectation."

W'ren thought to mention his trade skills, but of all things, then, his mind drifted to Gerolt's agonies. Letting him try to impregnate me might be the best option, actually... I will be free to pursue what I will in the day. It will buy me time to figure out a better position.

"This room is yours," Khury told him. "You will stay here when I am not able to have you escorted. The commode is behind that partition. There are a number of gowns in the wardrobe, though I will be procuring more suitable items for you as well. You will find a number of diversions— a writing desk, plenty of books... surely enough to keep you while I arrange for appropriate stewardship to accompany you about the castle. If there is anything else you wish for— tell me."

W'ren had much to examine. He felt himself wither finding that the books were incomprehensible to him, and so turned to examine the commode. He had awoken in a communal bath, so he was unsure how much sophistication to expect. There was a tap that emerged from the wall, to his relief. However, as was implied by the lack of a completely separate room, he would be using a chamber pot. He was not sure yet if there was a drainage system built into the castle walls or if it would be serviced manually, and he was not prepared to ask the king about something so pedestrian. He moved on to the wardrobe, but before he even looked within, a thought occurred to him.

"Sewing tools. I will need to alter clothes to accommodate my tail. And much more, once I am expecting..."

"Yes. Yes, certainly,". It seemed Khury had already forgotten what he had offered. "There is enough for basic mending in the wardrobe, I believe, but if you require more..."

W'ren realized that all of the clothes in the wardrobe were... bawdy things meant to be worn by women. He looked back to the sparsely stocked washstand for but a moment."I don't suppose there is a shaving kit in this room,"

"That is right... How often do you shave, W'ren?"

"Ah... about twice a week."

"Hm. Do not take offense, but rather than let myself be vulnerable in the presence of an unfamiliar man with a keen blade, I will take it upon myself to shave you."

W'ren could not believe that a king would deign to do so. He had also never been shaved by another. "I am amenable to that."

"Very good."

W'ren was left to ponder the day by himself.

Khury was handsome, and the warmth he showed on a first meeting was something W'ren had only dreamed of. Jannequinard had been too saccharine, Regula too hostile… This was no testament to Khury's virtues, of course. Khury had welcomed W'ren to use him; though none of his mind had been revealed in an Echo, this was clear already. W'ren, even while understanding this, welcomed the swiftness of his resulting advances. He himself was flirting from the start. He would have ample time to worry and manage the consequences.

W'ren was also deeply exhausted. He had been unconscious for an amount of time that allowed his wounds to heal, but it was not sleep. The wounds themselves had brought him next to death, up to the seventh gate. They were the cost of indulging Zenos in his final wish. They were a toll paid on top of the cost of saving all that was. These were the expenses of gods. W'ren was a man. A man was all W'ren wanted to be.

"W'ren Tia. Wake up."

"Ah—?"

Khury bent forward with his hands still at rest behind his back. "So you are comfortable?"

"Yes, quite."

"Good. Very good. I am sorry to have kept you so long, but I have some clothes which my men procured for you— old things of theirs, the best what could be managed in such a short time." Khury gestured to the pile he had set upon the end table.

"Oh, thank you," W'ren chirped as he got up to peruse. A fair balance of shirts and trousers for which W'ren's closest point of comparison was the fashions of Eulmore. "This is plenty to work with. Thank you."

"The pleasure is mine."

W'ren assessed each piece of clothing. Many of them were lighter in hand than he had expected, seeing the furs and tartan common across the uniforms of the palace guard. There were silks and linens. Fine for eveningwear and undergarments, but he would not be roaming about in them comfortably. Perhaps it was deliberate, or perhaps the garments most readily donated were the ones seldom worn. He would ask for warm outerwear later; Khury's patience seemed to be thin when W'ren finally looked up from his examination. The king immediately returned to the subject of trying for an heir.

"Now— I will ask you again. Do you truly wish to have my child? Do you accept this as your duty?"

It did not soothe W'ren's private apprehensions, but he was appreciative that Khury wanted him to be certain of his choice. The two of them were seeking to take advantage of the situation, but not without consideration, not without seeking reciprocity. He felt it in the level tone of Khury's voice. This was a bargain, not a promise of passion.

"Yes. I accept."

"You understand that I will come to fuck you often. When it becomes clear that you are fertile, I may come to fuck you every night. To be denied occasionally will present no trouble; however..."

"I look forward to it." W'ren was matching Khury's businesslike restraint, but he let a warm smile cross his face. "If I should have a change of heart, I am confident I may be of some other use, but I am quite eager to have you."

"Very good. And for now... You must be weary. Let us put you to bed."

W'ren gazed into Khury's pale green eyes. Khury's own gaze was pulled out of a readerly focus when W'ren laid a hand on Khury's waist. His mouth cracked open, and then tightened. W'ren felt him take a breath.

"Something about the small of the back was always so alluring to me," W'ren confessed. Khury wondered if he had shown some confused expression when he was touched. "Such a tender place on a man, even those— especially those possessed of great strength, and in your case... I noticed how strong your shoulders are. Those of a seasoned bowman."

"Heh, as a matter of fact..."

"How could I tell?" W'ren laughed gently. He saw Khury's expression crack further, something that could have been anger or delight, he wasn't sure. He recomposed himself and continued in his praises, even more softly than before. "You carry yourself just so. You have the sharp eyes to match— I do not expect to ever escape them."

"You flatter me," Khury said, for lack of any offense to take.

"I do not merely flatter you. I speak to my feelings. Shall I say it plain? You're beautiful."

"Then consider yourself fortunate to have been discovered in my territory."

"Do you consider yourself fortunate to have found me?"

Khury looked at W'ren on the verge of a small outburst, but he let out a diffusing breath and distracted W'ren with a faint touch on his shoulder. His answer was pointedly calm. "That will only reveal itself with time... but I do have high expectations for you. So, sleep well. I look forward to tomorrow."

"Good night."

Scene 1

Khury spent some time thinking of the best way to rouse W'ren. He did not have a conclusion before W'ren stirred on his own, blinked slowly at Khury, and said to him with a voice like crystallizing honey, "Good morning?"

"You slept well?"

"Oh, like a babe."

"Good." Khury went straight to business. "At the next bell, more or less, one of the maids will come with your breakfast. She will be coming at this time every morning. Do try to be awake for it— considering how close this room is to the tower, I am surprised to see that you made it through the first two bells."

"Still recovering from being frozen in a comet, and I was given the most comfortable bed in the world," W'ren said, and then yawned. "Don't be surprised." He slipped out from bed and started padding across the room: back slouched, tail heavy, and stark naked. Khury himself was not yet sharp enough to notice the issue immediately, but when he caught himself admiring the swirl of minty hair about W'ren's navel… "This will not do when the maid arrives. I should not mind, but—"

"The maid will knock, yes?" W'ren said, nonchalant and without interrupting his search for something. "If I'd been wise, I would have set out that housecoat for myself..."

"...This?" There was a robe set over a chair behind to Khury.

"Yes."

Khury tossed it over and pointed to the partition⁠⁠. W'ren followed his instruction, but had the robe on already by the time he was safely behind it.

"Did you mean for me to help you don your armor again, Khury?"

Right, it would have been difficult for even a bleary-eyed W'ren to overlook the armor Khury had brought with him. He had left it on its stand behind the partition, in the half-formed hypothesis that it would frighten W'ren if he awoke to see two figures.

Khury cleared his throat.

"Y-your Highness."

"If you would."

The process of armoring the king came naturally to W'ren, just as it had the first time. The breastplate was first— clasped shut and leather straps tightened over his shoulders. Then Khury slipped his right arm into a fur half-coat that wrapped his hips, and W'ren secured that with an ornamented belt. W'ren set in place the right pauldron with its curving blade of icy glass, and brought the strap around his chest and under his left arm. Mirroring that, one end of the blue tartan of his mantle went beneath his right arm and over his left shoulder, and over that, the fur and the crest of Wezette. All was secured with a round gold brooch. The chain hanging from the pauldron was brought over and affixed to the mantle with a second brooch⁠⁠ with a motif of swirling vines and leaves. With that in place, Khury produced his crown. W'ren wondered for a moment if it was his duty to set that in place as well⁠. Khury was staring at him with it in hand. He was pondering the very same, W'ren guessed; he almost began to reach and accept it, but Khury turned to the mirror and set it on himself.

In a state of ardor had they sworn to trust one another with their bodies. Now the boundary of that trust was drawn⁠— Khury's pride as king was to remain intact.

Khury left through the door, leaving the armor stand behind for W'ren to admire while he waited for his breakfast. Ornamentation had been left to the armor itself; the stand was a simple frame with two T-shaped shoulders, one slightly below the other. The mantle and pauldron had been set upon the top, and the leather straps of the breastplate would rest over the bottom one. There was also a cushioned support jutting out at the hip level, shaped more like a table, on which the breastplate itself would rest so as to not let it swing like a bell, and set securely between the cushioning was a round case for Khury's crown.

He found the stand easy to lift, too, when he moved it out of the way so that he could wash his face.

W'ren considered for a moment if the case's position made it troublesome for Khury to retrieve the crown for casual wear. Unlatching the breastplate and pulling the strap off the shoulder, letting it sit open haphazardly while he unlatched the case to get to it⁠.. Maybe he had a separate crown for such occasions. Maybe he just never left his chambers without armor. The maid finally knocked, as was promised. Without a word, she set the breakfast tray down on the small table at the fireside and left before W'ren had finished thanking her.

While he ate, W'ren had to wonder: how long would Khury be satisfied with his pretense for keeping him? Siring a child with a W'ren was a dreadful idea for one so concerned with his line's legitimacy. It was going to make W'ren's life easy for at least a few months, but it was not clear how it could be leveraged against the apparent successor— it was a desperately horny decision, clearly, and W'ren found that respectable. He smiled for it.

Scene 2

Khury had left before the maid arrived, touched again by how swiftly W'ren dressed him. His touch was more confident, now, as well⁠— though it was fleeting each time, Khury had noticed W'ren letting his hands rest on Khury's shoulder and waist after fastening his half-coat, on his shoulder blade after his mantle. Even while minding his manners, W'ren took any opportunity he had, it seemed. The night could not come soon enough, and in the meantime, Khury had to put together some way of presenting W'ren to the public. Over breakfast, he sent a few couriers out to various dignitaries and peripheral family members. Then, he took to his throne to await a conference between the first and second divisions of his army. He was anticipating some quiet in which to daydream about the night awaiting him, but Serjes had arrived early. Upon questioning about why, he gave no objectionable answers, and then stood by in patience for a while until he gave Khury reason to doubt that he was simply so concerned with being punctual that he had found himself fully prepared and approaching the throne room a quarter-bell early. "You... Didn't have to do it yourself, you know." When Serjes said this, Khury just stared. "What you did for that man you rescued."

"What do you mean?"

"We were there, plenty of us, able to treat him and willing to go through the trouble," Serjes said, "Yet you took him into your own arms, even doffed your armor to bring him into the bath. I cannot remember that I ever saw you so... Gentle. Not even with your—"

"Oh, hush." My queen? My children? I will not hear it. You, of all people, having your girlfriend in secret as if it were consequential for a man of your status… "I weathered a blizzard on the mountaintop to claim him, and then, in all the hours I spent watching him in the carriage, I came to pity him.. Some great mage he must have been, by the look of it, yet he was left at my mercy... I had no wish to leave too hostile an impression."

Serjes didn't have a response. Khury's hospitality (such as it was) always came with a price, be that service or blood. Of course there was something special about this man. He expected he might see W'ren under his instruction someday.

Khury, given another moment of forethought, knew he could have said something less soft and more becoming of his reputation. But, his regret was fleeting amidst the more exciting emotion that addled his mind. "Gods, he had been frozen alive! I am capable of feeling pity, you know."

"All too well."

"Do you wish I had done the same to you?" Khury hoped to provoke a bit of banter out of Serjes. A rare mood he was in. "Picked you up, thawed you in the bath, and brought you to the fireside? Attended you while you had your first supper in days?"

"I think the time for such treatment has passed for me, your Highness."

"I do believe he has a number of years on you, Serjes."

"I speak relatively. I believe you have known me for long enough— time in which I have grown enough as both a man and a soldier— that I find it unnecessary. Though I am ever refining myself...You do not pity me now, I hope?"

"Do you truly wish for the answer?"

"I should hope you do not pity me as much as you pity a shivering wet cat."

Khury laughed. Serjes bore it in serene silence. He was bold to make light remarks before the king; to take his Highness's approval for granted and so much as laugh along could damn him⁠. Worse, even⁠— it could damn Ygene, though Serjes had taken immense pains to keep their relationship secret for this very reason. One of Khury's most loathsome traits, it was, that his eyes always gleamed like he knew everything. It could not have escaped his notice that the two had been friends for so long, but Serjes still had to hope that his knowledge went no further.

"You know…" Khury said. "I've yet to find suitable stewardship for him. Do you think Yuni might be insulted by the task?"

"What compels you to ask?"

"A man such as W'ren could easily be made a target. Exotic. Effeminate. Seemingly helpless. I am aware that...Yuni would be sympathetic to such things, and thus a most unlikely perpetrator of what I fear could befall W'ren."

"I see the logic in it… I can approach him on your behalf— if I may."

"You may."

"And if I may put forth another recommendation..." Serjes, for his part, thought it might be best if he stacked the retinue with his own. "Severo. I know him just as well, so I can speak to his character. He detests bloodshed. Perhaps such a civil duty will suit him in the winter months."

"A fair proposal. Once this meeting is concluded, speak with them both, and then report to me tomorrow morning."

"Yes, sir."

The silence afterwards did not persist for long. The officers of the second division had finally arrived.

Scene 3

"Do you wish to dine with me tonight, W'ren?" The words came out sounding so weak. Khury blinked and recomposed himself. And to ask from the other side of the partition⁠— yes, he had spent the entire morning inviting nobles to dine at the castle and making arrangements with the cooks, which was all very tedious for him, but it was for the sake of impressing himself upon W'ren. How had he forgotten himself now? "Rather, I should ask... What have you prepared to wear?"

"I will defer to your judgment on whether it is appropriate, but I quite like what I was able to do with this," W'ren said. He presented himself. He was wearing a shirt that was tight around the chest despite being half-fastened. It showed off his chest hair and a teasing glimpse of a lace layer below— one of the chemises from the wardrobe that he must have altered. His trousers were similarly tight, and Khury noticed that W'ren had packed something in the crotch. "...You would wear such a thing to dinner?"

"I can think of a few occasions where I come from, yes. But, I am in your castle, and I defer to the opinions of your Highness."

"You seem to understand that this is most unusual attire for presenting oneself to the public... But, you are an exotic creature in this land. Perhaps flagrant disregard for custom will endear you to them."

Khury's downward gaze did not escape W'ren's notice. "It's a rolled up stocking," he explained. "Is it too much?"

"No. Combined with such a shirt left undone, however?" Khury tugged at the lapel. The tight fit of W'ren's shirt separated and compressed his breasts to a more masculine shape⁠, and Khury had to resist the urge to touch them himself. "It might embolden some women in circling over you."

"I know how to turn a lady away."

"As do I. Needless to say, I shall not let you be trifled so... But, I would nonetheless warn you of whatever consequences you ought to expect."

"So, unwelcome advances from noblewomen… Will that be the worst of it?" W'ren stood still and looked pointedly at Khury. "Do you think you will suffer for it if I attend dinner looking like this?"

"I do not." Khury's mouth spread into a grin. "I dare say, this might even be fun."

Though all were quite eager to hear from the fallen star, W'ren was kept by Khury's side, at the far end of the table. There, only a few could easily converse with him, though he still had everyone's rapt attention. W'ren spoke of his homeland and the peoples inhabiting it. The talk of other races drew the most attention. Having a tail and a pair of furry ears made W'ren alien enough; to think that there were people even more different in his world⁠ was sensational.

"There is also land in the surrounding desert which is home to another tribe, the Amalj'aa... They differ more dramatically in appearance, and a mandate from the city of Ul'Dah forbade them from entering the city— not for any danger the Amalj'aa posed inherently, mind you, but in order to protect dealings with… certain foreign powers possessed of great contempt for such peoples. Similar prejudices are echoed throughout the continent for a number of spoken tribes, and even towards certain human peoples, in various circumstances through history…"

"But what did they look like⁠— The Amalj'aa?"

"Very imposing humanoid figures, with strong tails and a single long, backswept crest," W'ren said, making a gesture over his head. "Dark scales all over, a bit of a muzzle to their facial structure⁠— not unlike a bulldog, but with fewer wrinkles and no distinct nose. But, let me emphasize, they are a spoken people all the same. Too different from humans to reproduce with them, but otherwise possessed of equal intelligence."

The voice of a younger man at the table spoke up. "So when you say prejudices between human peoples⁠— don't you just mean wars? If not between states, then between races?"

"No, not necessarily. Prejudice is very often reflected in governance, but it does not often manifest as outright war⁠…" W'ren puzzled at how to make a distinction that should have been obvious. "More often, it is not so equitable. For instance, the Au Ra I spoke of earlier⁠— They bear no relation to dragons, but the Holy See of Ishgard had been at war with dragons for a thousand years, and in their paranoia and desperation to maintain control, they slaughtered nearly every one of the Auri refugees who came to their gates. Many people in Garlemald would insist that the tails of Miqo'te— like myself— and of Hrothgar and Au Ra make them all non-human⁠. They went to war, sure but that was not the sole expression of their prejudices. They relied heavily upon the labor of Hrothgar, for instance, who had lived in the land before it was called Garlemald." Stares continued from those who were still listening and not eating. W'ren did not care to read into them, and put a question in return to the young man who asked. "I understand that mankind in this world is much more homogenous, but surely your world has seen prejudices that… define people out of personhood? Even within a state?"

The question cast a silence among the nobles attending the dinner. W'ren was somewhat glad for it⁠— he knew the answer to his own question, and did not want to hear whatever they had to say about it.

"But enough of this scholarly talk, W'ren. You have told us so little of yourself."

"There is little of me to tell. But..." W'ren closed his eyes. The attention would not leave him.

"I picked up several trades in my time— I was an inquisitive child, and always trying to make things. I had a decent eye for collecting fine raw stones, so I soon learned to cut and polish them— perhaps at too young an age to be playing with such tools, but, nonetheless… Still have all my fingers," W'ren said, putting his hands up to demonstrate a fact nobody had questioned. "I learned to mend my own clothes as well, but that was more because my mother was quite fed up with how often I would come home in tatters. She did quite well to put her anger aside and make her chore seem appealing to me. So that turned into a passion for tailoring, and so forth. When I began to venture into the city proper, I gravitated towards the trade guilds and was swiftly picked up as an apprentice. Imagine the surprise of my masters when they encountered one another and learned they were teaching the same child."

"And surely your prodigious talent did not end with your childhood."

"Surely not," W'ren said, but he hesitated to continue. "It yielded a number of opportunities. I have even been trusted with crown jewels before..."

"I had been wondering about that⁠⁠— about how you conduct yourself with such… confidence." Khury was careful not to expressly condone the familiarity W'ren was showing him. "And how did that come about?"

"Well, there was a war which saw the nation of Gyr Abania liberated from imperial rule, and following that, the allied states of Eorzea mustered aid to help them rebuild," W'ren said. It was an answer the nobles neither expected nor found inviting. "I was sent as a trade instructor, for my part. I was to ensure individuals had skills by which to thrive after aid money ran out."

"To grant you and your pupils crown jewels…" Khury alone kept W'ren talking.

"Giving money directly was something the Sultana did not have much power to do— Ul'Dah is ruled more by a syndicate of her wealthiest individuals, all very reluctant to simply give money. It was a clever workaround, as well as a show of her trust."

"Little of you to tell," Khury remarked once he realized that was all that W'ren had on the subject.

"We could be here all night for several nights, speaking of a world none here will ever see." Though his intent was clearly to explain away the irrepressible disdain in his voice for the majority of the company, there was sadness, too, when he mentioned this. W'ren himself would never see his own world again. "With your permission, I would like to finish this meal before it gets any colder."

"Please."

It puzzled Khury somewhat to find that W'ren's feelings on his world seemed to have inverted so quickly. W'ren had been thrilled to share stories from his travels just last night. Perhaps the difference was the setting, and all the gawking he received now. It was a terrible shame, but Khury supposed that he could never really have a worthwhile conversation with W'ren in front of others, for fear that others would presume to speak to their king as W'ren did.

Nobody spoke anymore. If they could not pepper W'ren with endless questions, they had nothing to offer, and not even the arrival of dessert could inspire them. The dinner was terse in the way Khury was accustomed to, but for once, Khury was not content to keep it that way. "Glaciela declined to attend tonight," he said.

"She is at a difficult age, particularly for a girl," was the first comment offered. It came from an elder cousin of Khury's late wife, a mother of twelve and grandmother of a count Khury would prefer not to guess.

"Woman," Khury corrected, though he himself hardly regarded her as such. "It is high time she be regarded as such⁠— no child could succeed in her trials as she has. And we must not afford her at twenty winters the sort of leniency you offered your daughter at fourteen."

That daughter, at fourteen, had routinely snuck out of her lessons to spy on Khury's oldest children, and had gone entirely undisciplined every time she was caught. Khury had always suspected she had a hand in the assassination of his first son a few years later, but evidence was discovered only after her mother had allowed her to go abroad. This was known but never spoken of among the court for the past several years since ⁠⁠— save for this occasion. Khury looked at W'ren in the shocked silence that followed, but he was diverted before W'ren looked up at him.

Commander Abbott of the second division spoke up. "What do you intend to do about this disobedience, your Highness?"

"Disobedience? I merely invited her," he answered coyly, mocking the assumption that he would act harshly⁠. Abbott's dense and stuffy voice alone was enough to justify antagonism, and Khury knew him to be a terrific sycophant on top of it. He could make as many such jabs as he liked and Abbott would still come to lick his royal shoes if he asked. "I do find it strange that she is not curious about the fallen star."

"Was it confirmed that she declined the invitation?" W'ren asked, and quickly. "I presume you sent someone to reach her…"

"Someone indeed," Khury said, and with one eyebrow raised, he fired an accusation down the table. "Did none of you see her today?"

All were eager to figure out who to blame, and none would dare insinuate that Khury had not expressly invited Glaciela at all. It was a perfect little uproar. W'ren could move his seat just a little closer to the king's and speak to him personally. "You didn't think to ask a courier, or even one of your soldiers?"

Khury responded, "It doesn't matter."

W'ren smiled at him knowingly⁠— appreciatively. He had finished his plate already, and leaned back in his seat with his hands folded over his stomach. His ears flicked when one of the nearer guests yelled, but he was contented and let his eyes linger on Khury. Khury gazed back in kind⁠. Finally, I might properly enjoy the sight of you.He extended his legs under the table and felt his right foot interrupted by W'ren's ankle. Instead of withdrawing, W'ren hooked them together. His tail beat the firm cushion of his chair as he did. "Anxious, are we?" Khury asked in a low voice.

"I trust you'll have us out of here soon?"

"It would seem we are of the same mind." Khury picked up his spoon and cut into the slice of torte sitting in front of him, and he promised, "I will not keep you wanting much longer."

Scene 4

The dinner was concluded the moment Khury announced he would be seeing the guest of honor back to his bedroom. They stood and left, and the crowd followed them in the main hall. There it lingered, so Khury stood still and saw to its dispersal with only his sour resting face. Everyone slowly broke apart, and when none were in sight, W'ren was seized up and pushed against a pillar.

"Beautiful thing," Khury growled.

"Yagh!" W'ren yelped.

"Be silent!"

Their voices echoed for a single mortifying beat, but no footsteps followed.

"Beautiful thing," Khury repeated, "Beautiful, beautiful man…" Khury's gaze was unbearably bright. W'ren closed his eyes and still saw only those of the aged king burning with wolfish lust. They were green-tinged gray, as if reflecting the shade of W'ren's hair back at him. They shined light under a heavy lid, one which creased at the ends and carried a row of long, straight lashes.

Khury's lips, too, had been a subject of W'ren's interest. They were open before him, having called him beautiful; it was no longer necessary to hide. They were always so tightly drawn, one might think them stiff like the edge of a score on a loaf of bread. But, they proved pliant, met with those of W'ren. He felt Khury's lower lip graze his chin and heard him gasp as he did. His grasp on W'ren's shoulders tightened.

"Insolence," Khury snipped, "Stealing the first kiss."

"Your Highness— I thought I might be waiting all night," W'ren said.

"Mind yourself." He grabbed W'ren by the jaw. He stared into W'ren's eyes even as he closed them, and as he laid his hands on the small of Khury's back. He took a breath and then, at last, he took his kiss, and W'ren relished it. He bid his hands climb to the swell of strength in Khury's shoulders. "Much better." Khury wove his words in between tongue-laden kisses. "Give yourself to me."

W'ren caught Khury's hand in time. It was unfastening W'ren's trousers.

"Are we not exposed here?"

"Mm." Fool that he was in the moment, Khury would need to be convinced to care.

"Let me romance you longer. Take us to bed."

Khury relented, but made a promise. "I shall have my fun with you yet."

He pulled the rolled stocking from the crotch of W'ren's trousers and used it to silence any protest as he carried W'ren through the halls, though protest W'ren did not. He moaned, but softly, for Khury's ears only. He swept his tail over Khury's arm and let it sit draped there. How lucky he was to be carried like this⁠⁠— though as they stood nearly equal to one another, he expected it would not last for long. Then they were at the door.

"...And now you fall silent." By the time he shut the door, Khury was recomposed, and so W'ren bashfully awaited instruction. "Well? Romance me."

"Of course, sir."

W'ren considered, for a moment, where to begin. He picked up Khury's hands first and admired them ⁠— he had calloused grooves on each hand where a bowstring would meet his fingers. His veins and knuckles were prominent beneath his smooth weathered skin.

W'ren slipped his own hands beneath Khury's, to let him feel their character, in contrast to his. Supple and soft, but in a manner more dry; wool felt against Khury's satin. He did not look up to gauge Khury's approval. He was deeply nervous to know if he was pleasing Khury with such reserved, chaste gestures, but his instincts told him to move with confidence⁠. The king almost certainly wore a flat expression that could only tell W'ren: No, you have not won. You beg for my approval. You have failed to move me.

W'ren knew this. Yet, he also heard how Khury's breath hitched while W'ren pressed soft kisses on his knuckles, and gracefully turned his own hands beneath Khury's, feeling them and inviting them to be felt. The very moment he felt Khury clasp him, his heart skipped a beat and he gave Khury a single affirming squeeze before he withdrew and set to unfastening his coat enough to get at Khury's bristling neck. Still he avoided spoiling himself by looking up to read his face.

Khury's breath and slightest vocalizations were all W'ren could hear now. This was what he wanted. Khury would not say a single word to concede as much, but W'ren could feel that he was nearly overwhelmed, for his chest heaved and his hands could not settle on what to hold. W'ren felt his own motions keenly wherever Khury touched him⁠— his tail thrashed, his shoulders shuddered, his hips rolled, and all the while he tasted Khury's neck, combed his fingers into the soft wisps of hair at the nape of his neck. He ran his other hand under Khury's shirt to get at his chest. He felt skin slackened between peaks of bone, muscle, and scar. He delighted in running his hand through the thick field of winter hair over it all, and gave a squeeze to the soft hill of his breast⁠— For that gesture, W'ren was given a firm tug at the base of his tail. He purred, all the while, letting Khury's stubble scratch his cheek and forehead. He moved up, kissing his jawline. From the corner of his eye, he could catch sight of fluttering eyelid and flickering gaze under his furrowed brow. Tensing, releasing, tensing, releasing, in quadruple time over his labored breath. It was for W'ren that Khury Wezette was in the throes of lust.

Finally, a word⁠—

"Heavens…"

⁠—Moaned as he pulled W'ren, evidently wanting no more to only be kissed. He parted his lips immediately, getting his tongue into W'ren while clutching his head ⁠— finally decided what to do with your hands, did you?

W'ren did not suppress himself. He moaned back, wordlessly, until Khury drew back to catch his breath. Then he was met with it again, the taste of the king as he indulged himself in the base pleasure W'ren was offering. He was starved for it; knowing this put a swell in W'ren's chest.

W'ren finally removed Khury's coat and draped it over his own shoulders while he pushed Khury backwards onto the bed.

"Ah—" An indignant little noise escaped the king on impact.

"Forgive my insult, your Highness..." He knew he had to reserve his bravado for his actions⁠— Khury could not take offense at a move when it made something in him throb, but he could certainly lash back at bold words.

"You have begged for much forgiveness from me," Khury lilted.

"If begging is not enough, I shall win it from you— please permit me to try."

Khury's trousers were already undone and it took little to pull his cock loose. W'ren wet his lips and set to work. He took about a thumb's length into his mouth, sealed his lips around the shaft, and carefully drew back and forth. Khury was nearly at erection already, but his foreskin still covered most of the head, and W'ren could feel him stiffening further as he sucked. He swiped his tongue against the emerging glans⁠ and won Khury's hand on the back of his head, pushing him down further. He strained to keep his lips tight and his jaw open.

When W'ren gagged and pulled back, the hand relaxed. Khury instead combed his fingers into W'ren's hair and wordlessly coaxed him into an easy bobbing rhythm. W'ren purred as he did. The gentle vibrations elicited more pleased moaning and petting from Khury. For a while he continued like this, fondling Khury here and there as he did, sometimes around the base, sometimes tracing and rubbing his perineum, cupping his balls, though never lingering while his focus was primarily on giving Khury his head. He drew back for a moment to suck at the glans again⁠; pulling Khury's foreskin back manually to get at it got a particularly strong sound from him, and W'ren could see that he tilted his head back as he moaned then⁠. Pulling his lips from it with a quiet pop , he gave the shaft a long lick on the way to attend to his balls. Khury accepted this, too, reclaiming himself somewhat from the overwhelming bliss of W'ren's mouth. While W'ren sucked his balls, he lazily stroked his cock to the obscene sound of it, until W'ren had enough and stopped.

"Where is that insistence you had?" he asked meekly, though Khury's shaft was still in front of his nose. "Have I bored you?"

"Absolutely not," Khury said. "Ohh, you give me much to savor. But, we should get on, shouldn't we?" He picked W'ren up again to lay him on the bed and strip him. Getting his trousers off proved troublesome when his tail kept brushing him across the face as he tried to get the high waist down over it. It swished quickly even when he stopped and stepped back.

"... Do you mind keeping this thing still? How am I to…"

"If you would⁠… Just untie the bow."

"Hm?" A thick ribbon to draw the slit closed⁠— Khury would have time later to be mystified at how W'ren had tied it so neatly. He found that getting W'ren's trousers off did nothing to calm his tail, nor did W'ren turning to lay on his back and spread his legs open. "...You must be excited."

"I am. Very much so." W'ren did have some ability to keep calm, and it was all spent on his voice. "I haven't had this in a while."

Khury gave his cock a few tugs and then let it rest on W'ren's soaking labia, which he had graciously spread as an invitation. W'ren rocked his hips up and down slightly in encouragement.

W'ren flinched as Khury broke past some resistance.

"No," Khury muttered in delighted disbelief, "You were a virgin?"

"Not at all, but... I rarely take anything thicker than a couple of fingers there."

"Really." Khury shifted his posture over W'ren. He lowered his head to put a gentle peck on W'ren's nose.

"It feels alright," W'ren assured him, "You can..."

"Hush. I will begin when I will."

W'ren had wanted him to start, but he settled, wrapping his arms around Khury's chest and sighing patiently. It met with Khury's approval. "Good boy."

Something Khury had long forgotten was the great range of sensations of flesh upon bare flesh; how people in the nude could stick to one another, or glide, or chafe (gods forbid). Though W'ren's cunt was slick to the point that Khury could feel some of it dripping and smearing on his balls and inner thighs, the rest of his body presented a fair amount of friction. Enough that their bodies clung together, thigh to bony waist and breast to plush breast.

Khury remembered finding it unpleasant with his queen, when he had yet to recover what he had lost in his injury. He had scarcely a hair on his chest then, and was prone to bouts of sickly sweat that dried up as quickly as they came⁠, and all of this made every point of contact between them feel as if it were wearing through his skin. And Khury had felt no lust for her— that first night was a chore only accomplished by imagining the return of his strength, when he might at last be done with his wife and become himself again. As much himself as he could be.

Much of what Khury had gained back since then he had lost to age in recent years. Yet, he did not mind so much as he did on his wedding night. This was a fine match he had chosen for himself. His flesh and W'ren's stuck together, but there was harmony to the way they moved. The friction of W'ren's legs on the trunk of Khury's body was worlds apart from that dreadful sweaty chafing. The mass of W'ren's pubic hair had looked coarse⁠— hostile, even⁠— and that had given Khury a pang of worry before, but pressed as it was between their bodies, it was only another medium for sensation, moved as naturally as tufts of tall grass swept by wind. Perhaps W'ren had feared for his comfort, too, seeing all the coarse hair on Khury's own body. Or, perhaps not; he was no virgin, and he put his mouth everywhere between Khury's legs without reservation.

The soft backs of W'ren's thighs gave Khury support to lean forward and bear down upon him. He felt his orgasm mounting; slowing down to savor the sex just a little longer was not a consideration for him⁠. Whatever it was W'ren had done with his mouth before was plenty to remember the night by. The blissful thoughts he had in that moment reprised themselves. How sweet you look when you are beneath me. How pitiable the sounds of your ministrations. How devoted you are to my pleasure… And… You enjoy this, don't you? Does it bring you joy to serve me in such a way? Such a simple man you are, yet… your service…

"Exquisite, you are," Khury hissed through his exertion. He focused on the sound of W'ren's breath. W'ren no longer purred or trilled. He gasped and whined from the top of his throat; it began to sound hoarse. Khury lifted his weight back slightly, allowing W'ren to take in more air⁠ and to moan from the depths of his chest.

"Fuck, Khury…"

Oh, you are helpless beneath me! Khury thrusted with ease in his new position. Holding W'ren's legs, he could ram into him with and laughed all the while. His own orgasm surprised him. His laugh became a cry of ecstasy, and he clung to W'ren's legs, then dropped them to throw himself down again. W'ren locked him in with his legs, and he buried his face in W'ren's neck to silence himself as he spent everything inside him. His cries became growls, and his blows became strokes; he let his strength wane before he was ready to stop fucking and pull out of W'ren— and when he did, W'ren looked up and brought his head down for a kiss.

"Romantic to the last, you are," Khury murmured.

"This will not be my last."

A touching promise, Khury thought. He brought W'ren's blanket over him and gathered up his own strewn clothing. It had been a wonderful time. It would be ruined if he lingered now, as the afterglow was already turning into a chill of dread. He took one last glance at W'ren; already sound asleep, he was. Khury supposed he had done well.

Scene 5

W'ren saw a young man he knew must have been Khury⁠— his cheeks full and shaven, and his hair at chin length, swept back. He was in wedding regalia, being led by his bride to the bed. He walked slowly. Neither seemed thrilled, and, inevitably, they had miserable sex. Khury was in pain so quickly that he could only lay on his back and have his newly wedded wife joylessly mount him. For her part, she tried to please; she was gentle and asked him often what felt good as she gingerly touched him. It was clear, though, that she was trying to summon these affections out of nothing, and it went on. Khury came with his eyes closed and his teeth gritted, and he pushed her onto her back immediately to be sure nothing went to waste- he begged as much. "This must be enough⁠— I cannot bear that again while I am like this."

She apologized profusely. Tearfully. His words of comfort were that she had succeeded in her duty and could rest now. He did not sleep that night.

When he awoke to see that Khury was no longer in the room with him, W'ren had a moment of panic.

No. W'ren's sex with Khury had been real. He dipped a finger into himself where he was still slick⁠— in with the usual discharges, there was semen and a trace of blood. That was all Khury had left him with.

It figured. W'ren had fainted shortly after Khury came. He could have been unconscious for a while, caught in his echo like a bad dream. And, if that experience was indicative of the rest, perhaps Khury did not consider the possibility of his partner desiring an orgasm.

He licked the mess from his finger, rolled over, and set his hand to work.

Scene 1

W'ren's first days in Ardra had passed in a dreamlike manner. His thoughts and business in the castle had not slowed long enough for him to consider his circumstances with appropriate depth. It was too lovely that this weathered king had reciprocated his advances and boarded him in the castle⁠. His Highness certainly would have his own aims, but W'ren had full faith in his ability to handle them. But now, with many quiet hours passed, he did manage a sobering thought; Khury would need some teaching⁠— he was only good enough at sex as he needed to be to get himself off, and he only needed to get himself off enough times to conceive. The night had been pleasant, and W'ren did not take that for granted, but...

How well Khury would take to instruction was not certain to W'ren yet, but he expected Khury to be difficult. He had not exploded before W'ren, but he was palpably high-strung. He spoke every word as a test; his most trite remarks included. W'ren excelled when tested and so had taken everything in stride.

W'ren heard a clear knock at his door, and then Khury entered with a bundled-up towel in one arm.

"Let us make you presentable before your breakfast comes," he said, while he pulled the desk chair into the open floor in front of the washstand and laid the folded towel over the back. "Sit, and lay your head back."

W'ren followed his instructions immediately. He cracked his back with a groan while Khury sorted out the other items he had brought. He produced a silver comb with a handle in an enameled floral motif and dipped it in water before he brought it towards W'ren's forehead. There he was puzzled. "My, how did you manage this?"

"I was up trying to finish until I fell asleep."

"Finish what, exactly?"

"I hadn't climaxed yet, when you left."

"Oh." Khury seemed to need to think about that for a long moment. He resumed combing W'ren's hair back before he said, "You did not think to mention it?"

"I assumed you were..."

"Assumed I was what?"

"...Done. You set out to breed me. You spent inside me. That was your goal." W'ren spoke coyly as he looked away⁠; he hadn't wanted to be left like that.

"Yes. It was." That was undeniable. It was all Khury had promised. "...I assumed you had your fill as well. You seemed satisfied to me."

"Have you brought any of your past partners to climax?"

Khury sidestepped the question and looked pointedly into W'ren's eyes while grasping his jaw. "Do not for one moment believe that I would give this room to someone I deem unworthy of my attention."

"Thank you, sir."

"Now." Khury began to wet and lather W'ren's face. "Hold still. Very still. I will not see a single scratch upon your skin."

W'ren closed his eyes through the process as he knew he would faint if he looked at his caretaker. It nearly overwhelmed him to simply know that he was the focus of his sage eyes. His worry of the morning⁠— his fear that his pleasure was beneath Khury's concern⁠— was washed away. Khury's hand was tender upon him.

Khury nudged W'ren's head to one side, maintaining contact between the pads of his fingers and W'ren's cheek. There was the release of breath through his nose, and then a whisper, "Stay just like that."

He wet a cloth with warm water from the tap in the wall and brought it to W'ren's face.

"It is too soon for you to moan like that," Khury chided, and W'ren just laughed. He made another jab. "I trust you will be ready for another try tonight, then."

"More than ready," W'ren answered.

"What else do you intend to today?"

"More tailoring. Just to get through this pile of clothing, and then..." W'ren said. "If I haven't lost the drive, I might draft some things from scratch."

"And what will you be making them with?" Khury raised an eyebrow in accusation.

"I'll make a list of materials once I've made the pattern. Rest assured, the curtains and linens are all safe."

"And you expect to send me shopping?"

"No, no⁠— you said I would have a steward?"

"Oh. Yes, but you mustn't expect the poor man to pay⁠— Do see me first, once you have that list. We may determine an appropriate allowance then."

Scene 2

At the feet of one of the wolf statues standing sentinel in one of Wezette Castle's stairways, Yuni fussed with his hat. Facing the king directly was an affair most dreadful, even with Severo by his side and even when knowing the assignment in advance. Severo looked to him for a moment, readying himself just as well. They turned their heads forward again and entered the great hall. The king sat coldly on his throne as they announced their presence to him.

"The commander told us of an assignment you have for us."

"So he did. And just where is your commander?" Anything which the king caught trying to escape his notice would be drawn to attention.

"Oh, he's out at the barracks with some of the new conscripts. He had us come here ourselves so that you would not be left waiting,"

"He told us the essence of it⁠," Yuni said. Severo's reasoning was sound and might have satisfied the king, but he was keen to turn the conversation back towards the mission. "That you were seeking stewards for W'ren. To supervise him and help take care of his daily needs."

"Yes. So, may I conclude that your reporting here constitutes your acceptance of these duties?"

Both young men in unison said, "Yes, your highness."

"Then Yuni, I will ask you first to go fetch W'ren and bring him here. We shall discuss the particulars with him present."

Yuni's brown bobbed hair bounced as he swiftly bowed out. The door's heavy thud resounded off the stone walls. No sooner than that did Khury turn to another subject.

"Severo. You were the one to take W'ren's personal effects. What can you tell me of them?"

"Little more than what could be gleaned from a first glance. Clearly woven with magic and meant for battle. I had no way to test, but every piece felt... Conductive." Severo knew his appraisal would be far more detailed than all but a handful of Khury's subjects could give, but he nonetheless prefaced it in this way, courting permission to enter the vault and study it in detail. "The sabatons and gauntlets are fine pieces of work, but the robe in particular is extraordinary⁠— you do not need me to tell you how unusual it is to see a garment glow as it does."

"Do you suggest that it is more than for decoration? A sort of functionality that only a mage could make use of?"

"Almost certainly. Though, again, I did not have time to properly study it, there is... Something to the way it is woven, or perhaps even to how the thread was spun. Subtle distinctions in elemental balance. Far more sophisticated than one would need to simply make something glow." Khury's desire for a conclusion was palpable in the silence. "How powerful W'ren is, we cannot say, but his clothes are of a sophistication that would be wasted on a lesser mage."

"Your Highness." W'ren had arrived with Yuni, and Severo was taken aback, having been caught talking about a subject W'ren was keeping secret. W'ren, for his part, looked swiftly around the room to see that the two men expecting him were staring. So he explained himself with great care not to mention his capacity for destruction. "To be precise, I practice astromancy. I beseech the heavens for the power to heal wounds and stall threats." Sheepishly, he waited, and then quipped, "Perhaps, in a very... very loose sense, you could consider my arrival here the result of an experiment in the field."

"Do you wish to demonstrate your abilities? You have given us much to be curious about," Khury suggested from upon the dais.

"As much as I might like to, I have lost my bearings. The heavens are vast, and the alignments of guiding bodies are entirely different from the perspective of one star to the next. I do not even sense those guiding bodies here," W'ren lamented, though not wholeheartedly so. "Besides that fact, I have no focus for my magic, so it would be very dangerous."

"Indeed. And you are not here for such things, besides,".Khury assured him. "Yuni has already introduced himself, I presume. This other young man is Severo, a mage serving with him in the first division."

"It is an honor to be entrusted with your care, W'ren."

"And it is a pleasure to meet someone who can recognize arcane craftsmanship." W'ren's eyes scanned the entire length of Severo's plaid, and W'ren nodded when he was done with his appraisal. He hoped silently that speaking at length on the subject someday would not cause any trouble.

"For logistical reasons, it will continue to be one of the castle servants who brings your meals, but I intend to have a steward come check on you during or after each. If you wish to roam the castle, he will accompany you. If you should remain in your quarters, he will report as much to me, and he will come to check on you regularly." Khury turned his head slightly away from Yuni and Severo to tell W'ren, "I will continue to sup with you in the evenings, circumstances permitting."

W'ren could tell Khury that he was still heard by the others, but he had the good sense to know that any attention to the matter would embarrass the king greatly.

"With that being said... W'ren, will you be continuing your tailoring pursuits this afternoon?"

"I will. Though I might like to take it to another room⁠, for a change of scenery. Space to lay things out, better windows, and so forth." W'ren paused as if his innocent request would be met with questioning, which it was not. He tried not to stare at Khury. "If I will be staying in one place outside my bedroom, will my steward need to stay with me? The way I tailor things for myself tends to be... indecent. Especially as I do not have a mannequin."

"Yuni, you may leave W'ren to his work alone in the study in the west hall. Report to me when you have left him there."

Scene 3

For supper, W'ren was brought to the solar to meet with Khury. A great map occupied most of the space on the inner wall, flanked on either side by portraits. The other wall was cut with windows, which let in the brassy light of the setting sun through warped and frosted panes. W'ren saw that it was the ideal space for sensitive discussions— tactical or otherwise. Khury beckoned him over to a chaise by a low table already laden with the night's meal: breads, cured meats, cooked root vegetables, and, atop an ornate stand in a berry-bush motif, two fruit tarts.

"Good evening, your Highness," W'ren said.

"Sit," Khury told him. "Are you one for wine?"

"Oh, yes."

"Good."

"—For now." W'ren sighed. "You'll have to find other comforts for me once I am expecting."

"I will? No, you shall tell me. I haven't the time to find things."

"I'm fond of tea. And you know already my love of food..."

"Ah, but whatever could replace wine?"

"The wine matters less than the company." W'ren glanced at Khury. "...But this is excellent. Bracing⁠— Floral and dry, but not terribly harsh." Garlean, if I were to place it somewhere I knew. W'ren shook off the thought.

"Quite fitting for the spring here⁠ in the north— though Wezette's vineyards cling to the southern border and eastern coast." Khury picked up the bottle to show it to W'ren. "This was vinted the year my first heir was assassinated."

Partly to mask his inability to read the bottle, W'ren nodded his understanding of Khury's words. "Did you choose it tonight with that in mind?"

"Indeed. I placed much of my faith in him," Khury explained as he poured his own glass. "Consider this an expression of what precious little I have left."

W'ren gingerly ran his fingers up the bottle and over Khury's hand on it before turning back to the meal.

"I was wondering, Khury. You found me in my robes⁠— did I have anything else? Any other personal effects?"

"No. If you are sure you had them when you departed, it is possible those were scattered and picked up by locals along with crystal debris," Khury answered with a trepidation W'ren understood. "But⁠ I have already tasked a few men with seeking out those crystals. I shall make sure they return with any other items of yours."

"May I provide..." W'ren produced a page of simple illustrations of his most important items: his star globe and deck of cards, his favored salves and balms, his companion Anima. For want of a pocket, he had wedged it in his shirt. "These are all I remember having⁠— all very precious to me."

"The pieces of armor you wore are secure in the castle vault with your robe." Khury scanned the page further while W'ren watched. "I shall pass this along to the search party."

"Thank you." W'ren tried not to sound too relieved when Khury did not question the presence of his magical focus on the page. He watched Khury tuck the page away in his own coat. "What's on your mind?"

"You will let me have you again tonight, yes?"

"Of course."

"Was it acceptable last night?"

"Certainly." W'ren was telling the truth. He had expected Khury to be more difficult, his erection more fickle. He was no stranger to self-pleasure and had fully expected to rely on that often in his arrangement. "And, gods, I'm glad for that. You're no less able to fuck me than this wine is to please the palate."

Khury gave a laugh as dry as the drink, too. "How," he said, "How do I do it? Please you so?"

"I'll show you when we are in bed,"

"That is not what I mean," Khury stated, though he did not hide that the answer pleased him. "Your manners here— you are so at ease with me when you've known me but three days."

"When I... bond with someone, I bond quickly, I suppose." "Your looks help. Your willingness to keep me company helps."

"And that is all?"

"No."

"Then tell me."

"You... You haven't... You've..." W'ren sighed as he sputtered. "You married for power, didn't you? You never had sex with someone out of desire before. Or, if you did, it was rare and punishing. Is that right?"

"Bold assumptions you make, W'ren," Khury said, "Bold, yet... not false. Go on."

"I can't shake this feeling I have⁠. That I could... bring you back to feeling joys you've given up on. Even just now⁠— you want to make me feel good even though you haven't the faintest idea how. I find that... heartening." He took a sip to rid his mouth of those saccharine words. "Rest assured, I know how brief our time together has been. I am still wary of your intentions. I hesitated to mention my magical experience to you for that reason."

"I swore not to make you a soldier." Khury brandished his promise. "I will be holding to that."

"Thank you. You have my apologies, as well. For whatever I may keep from you."

"There is much I would give you, W'ren, but you should know... I will forgive no act of betrayal." Khury rose his glass. "May you require no demonstration of what I mean by that."

"Rest assured, your trust is something I prize." W'ren met Khury's glass with his own. "My secrecy is just as well for your sake. I do not wish for you to desire from me something I cannot give. Whether that be a matter of conscience or ability..."

"Is my promise not enough?"

I need not be a soldier to do the unconscionable, W'ren wanted to say. He did not wish to have his conscience interrogated, however. "I will tell all in time, your highness. I promise." W'ren feared in a cold shock after the warmth he had felt a minute ago. "Do you believe me?"

"I've no choice but to believe you." He scoffed bitterly. "If I cannot believe you, you must die. What a shame that would be."

W'ren offered his hand, but Khury was reaching for the bread. So he put it down heavily on his own restless knee. "For now... Shall I tell you about how I came to practice astromancy?"

"Go on."

"I've mentioned Ishgard before⁠—a city in northern Eorzea, at war with the dragons of Dravania for a thousand years,"

"And they slaughtered anything which even looked draconic to them," Khury recalled.

"Anything and anyone. For what little it's worth, I saw one or two Auri men about the city when I first arrived⁠— while the war still raged⁠— so it would seem they did learn, if all too late." W'ren took a long sip of water to ready himself. "But it did not stop at appearances. The Holy See was ruthless in prosecuting whatever it deemed heresy. Any contact with Dravanians, anything that they considered subversion of their war effort. As for where astrology comes into it⁠— Ishgard is home to an astrologian's guild. When I arrived, all but one of its members practiced in the Ishgardian fashion, that is, watching the dragonstar to predict the movements of the Dravanian horde. The one proponent of the other school of astrology was a gentleman named Jannequinard de Durendaire, and..." He could feel the fondness welling up in him suddenly, and he smiled as he reached for a sip of wine. He had always been apart from Janne for long periods of time, but "Gods, there were only two things that prevented him from being tried for heresy. He was an heir of one of Ishgard's high houses, and he was a failure by most counts. Prodigious tolerance for alcohol, excellent in bed, friendly, broad-minded... but disinterested in holding any real responsibility and⁠—"

"Wait." Khury's sharp voice cut through where W'ren somehow had expected Janne's velvety ease. "Excellent in bed⁠, you say."

"You know I didn't land here a virgin," W'ren said. He braced himself for a jealous comment that never arose. He only caught a slight whine from Khury as he let a breath out. "Yes, I slept with him. Several times. I would do it again if I could, and he'd be glad to let you join in if you so desired. Not a man of singular commitments. Not that it matters here."

"...Go on."

"He was Ishgard's sole proponent of the other major school of astrology⁠— the Sharlayan school. Sharlayan being an isolated nation of scholars who once had a colony in the Dravanian hinterlands, which is where he studied and met a fellow student, Rufin Byrde⁠— his professor's son. When the Garlean empire began its invasion of Eorzea, Sharlayan abandoned their colony, but Rufin stayed behind to continue his work with Jannequinard— that is, teaching Sharlayan astrology to Eorzeans. It would have been a miracle that he wasn't tried for heresy, but he was murdered by mercenaries hired by a member of the Sharlayan forum and one of Jannequinard's uncles. So Jannequinard couldn't really continue his training or take on students in a meaningful for a while. Didn't stop him from scouting me, though it might have just been a pick-up line at first. Talk of destiny and taking me on as a protege. That's what I thought. And we had sex that night, which meant I got to sleep in Durendaire manor, so really, even if it was all talk, it was worthwhile."

"You agreed to lay with him for a warm bed? This is a familiar tale," Khury said. W'ren wasn't entirely sure if it was meant in jest.

"I agreed to lay with him because he was gorgeous, and he held my hand and looked me in the eye so earnestly, and I was in an unfamiliar and rather hostile city... Indeed, a familiar tale, and we'd fall in love and flourish for it, so I hope the similarities should not end at a one-night stand for a place to sleep."

"You are testing me, W'ren," Khury said placidly. W'ren was not sure whether or not to believe he was on the verge of a demonstration of force. Even in that defiant tone, W'ren was saying he hoped for love— surely Khury would not truly take offense to that.

"If our tale is to be like mine and Janne's, that is a wonderful thing, Khury. Do not mistake me. So listen," W'ren closed his eyes slowly, lacking the confidence to flirt or banter at all. He considered his words carefully. He had not mentioned his proficiency with detrimental magic yet, and could not let it slip now. "So, yes, I slept with him after I was registered with the Athenaeum Astrologicum. And, the next day, I set out to meet with a waylaid astromancy professor he had finally convinced to return to Eorzea. After rescuing them from bandits and bringing them to Ishgard, gods be damned, he made good on his promise to teach me in the Sharlayan fashion. I surpassed his skill, but I saved people with the magic I learned with him⁠— healed wounds, cast up shields, invigorated fighters; all drawing power from the heavens. And it was in no small part thanks to my experience practicing astromancy that I learned about Ishgardian politics and the corruption within the church."

"Is that so?" "And surely you did not let that corruption stand, when it no doubt threatened you now with your heretical knowledge."

"It was actually Sharlayan assassins at first⁠— Sharlayan guards their knowledge tightly, and there's much debate in the nation on to what degree they ought to do so. One particular astrologian was a staunchly conservative member of the governing forum...

"Tell me more about the church."

Where to start with the church? To discuss the class struggle it fed from was out of the question in the presence of a king, and in thinking of the furthest thing from that, he took a leap to the subject he had avoided before. "I killed the archbishop." W'ren was keenly aware of the imbalance of information shared between himself and Khury; keenly aware of the wear on his throat, the food growing cold on his plate, and his second glass of wine close to full. He reached for it in the pause his words gave Khury, and took a long sip. The wine agitated his throat, and he continued speaking with a slight growl. "A decision I did not make lightly, lest you think about setting me against some archbishop you've got troubling you."

"Of course not. But, perhaps I shall tell you what I know of Archbishop Sadali sometime and allow you to decide a course of action yourself."

"I would be interested to learn more about Ardra, if nothing else," W'ren said as he reached for his water glass. There was no reason for Khury to assume that killing Archbishop Thordan was a feat of tremendous power.

"I have seen Sadali few times in my life. But, he has never aged a day. He is retained by a number of quiet women, all nearly identical⁠— blonde and pale in gold and white robes," Khury paused to recall more. "I know one to be named Grace."

W'ren sensed that he was picking out superficial details, though they still suggested a man as threatening as Thordan. "What of his church?"

"The Church of the Crystal. The head of its presence in Ardra, the archbishop Sadali Crysthea, resides in Dyrnverk Cathedral." Khury stood and W'ren followed immediately to the map on the wall. "The church trains its warrior monks well and extends its roots deep beneath all of Ardra. I refuse to allow Wezette to bow to the church, but one would be a fool to make an enemy of it without first dominating the continent."

"But is it possible to dominate the continent without facing reprisal from the church?"

"When we are nearly ready to face the church, we may expand our territory by force. But in the meantime, we need only defend our nation and consolidate power through other means. To this end, my daughter Glaciela is betrothed to one of the princes of Leonis— the nation to our south. And, of course..."

"...About that." W'ren sat down and saw that Khury followed. "Once we have the child. It's clearly not going to be legitimate. How do you intend to reconcile that?"

"Glaciela herself is of illegitimate birth,". "The daughter I sired with a common woman cannot hope to compete with the child I sire with a fallen star. For that matter, if Roseluna should have the nerve to return from her exile and claim the throne for herself, I do not think her odds much more favorable than Glaciela's."

"I see." W'ren did not press the subject. "As long as you are confident," he sang as he shifted closer to Khury.

Khury noticed W'ren's advance for what it was this time. He was holding a fork with a piece of a berry tart on it and put it to W'ren's lips instead of his own.

"I will meet you in your bedroom."

While the handmaid escorted him to his quarters in silence, W'ren reflected on Khury's remark about his ease of manner. It had seemed a nice complement at first, and then it became evident that Khury was expressing what he saw as a challenge. His Highness had played along with W'ren's improprieties so far, but only so far as he expected W'ren to learn his place as a subject. It would not happen. He would make as many token efforts as he needed to satisfy Khury, but as he bent, he would bend Khury with him. That very night, he was succeeding: Khury had promised to see him to climax.

Scene 4

Khury knocked and entered the room wearing nothing at all. His cock already hung partly erect.

"You couldn't have walked through the castle halls like that."

"Indeed, I did not." He crossed the fireplace on his toes. "I have my ways⁠— you need not concern yourself with them."

W'ren welcomed Khury beneath the covers and put his arms around him. He was already bare himself, and ever so slightly sweaty. A kiss would be appropriate, yes? Khury stared still and examined W'ren's expression.

There was a tepid smile. So he did give that kiss.

"I really was touched by what you told me this morning. About you finding me worthy of your attention."

Khury was dreading it somewhat. He had realized, while drinking down his bitter erectile medicine, that he had convinced himself to play the instrument of W'ren's pleasure. Fucking W'ren had been more fun than he had ever known fucking to be, but it was far from effortless. Was he to be responsible for both of their orgasms? His expectation now was that W'ren would be entirely passive. He nearly cursed himself for it.

"I think you're a worthy man yourself."

Contrarily, W'ren was playing his own part; rolling his hips towards him, playing with his hardening cock. W'ren's touch felt good. He placed his hands just so with neither instruction nor question.

Still, Khury feared. W'ren's compliance had struck Khury as odd. As king, he was powerful, but he was dealing with someone who was not securely in place below him. W'ren made requests. W'ren made demands. And if Khury could fail to meet W'ren's whims and wants, then...

It was a mercy W'ren seemed so even-tempered and docile. Though he knew better in the back of his mind, Khury was tickled each time he gave W'ren a kiss or a pet. He rewarded W'ren's ministrations with these, and secretly beat back his fears as he did. He moaned into W'ren's ear. "Good boy. There's a good boy."

So it went on until Khury wanted to get the lesson over with. He needed to command W'ren's pleasure.

"Enough of this." He asked W'ren, "How does one master you?"

W'ren twisted Khury's wrist around and put his forefingers against his clit. Khury grasped it easily enough once W'ren's hand lifted to pull his face closer. He found the motion easy and wonderfully familiar, like nocking an arrow, for there was a firmness he could feel within the folds around it, and he felt something set in place as he pulled back on the hood.

"Mm."

"Is this all?"

"Not so different from yours, right?"

"Mine?"

"Your cock."

"You call this a cock," Khury pondered aloud as he began to grasp the thing. "How precious."

"Do you mean that?"

W'ren's tone suggested offense, as if he heard the remark as a joke. Khury had made it with levity, but realized that he did mean it. "I hate to imagine being a man without it. Precious, that you have one after all."

With his hands freed, W'ren seemed set on distracting Khury. He combed through his hair while kissing him. He let his tongue loll out in Khury's mouth.

"I won't be content to hold myself back much longer, you know. If you keep going like this..." Khury pushed W'ren's head from his, but he realized he might have been too forceful (He found W'ren's eyes confounding; was W'ren offended or was it simply that alien shape? Khury did not know how long it would be before he could tell). With his hand still on W'ren's cheek, though, he could spare a mote of compassion to give a stroke with his thumb. He asked, "Don't you want to come?"

"I'll come. Just fuck me," W'ren insisted. Khury did not ask again. He turned over and his hips landed perfectly between W'ren's spread legs. W'ren shifted his hips up to meet his cock there.I shan't tire of this co-operative nature of his any time soon.

For a time, Khury was patient. He held himself upright and so allowed W'ren's hand to work freely. But, in his new position, outside sounds could seep into his mind. He heard the snapping fire, the howl of wind, the chatter of the castle guard in the hall. He tensed, and through his squinted eyes he watched W'ren's head roll to the side. Khury heard his purring⁠; he fell forward to listen closely and drown out the world.

"I'll not be long now," Khury whined. He arched his back, again trying to let W'ren work himself, but there was no hand between them. W'ren was pulling Khury flush against him. Khury felt a wet surge⁠ over the base of his cock⁠— "Have you done it?"

"I'm close, I'm close... Fuck me."

"You⁠—" Khury was being squeezed, and W'ren's chest quaked. He recoiled slightly with the thrusts that followed, but W'ren's grip only loosened somewhat. Khury could barely see W'ren's face from this angle. "You enjoy this?"

"Yes...!" W'ren's eyes flashed open "Should I not? Gods, Khury, fuck me..."

"Gladly." Khury was not long behind. Slicked anew, his cock moved more freely despite the constrictions of W'ren's cunt; his tip was bare within it to feel them. So sweet the senastion was that, for a protracted moment, he tried put out of his mind the other wonderful sensations he felt. W'ren's chest and hair were soft and his grasp on Khury's shoulder blades remained firm, but Khury needed to finish.

Khury was envious now. How pleased and relaxed W'ren was. How he had only to lay in bed. But W'ren could not command a kingdom in such a state. For Khury to keep him content was to protect himself.

"Oh, your Highness⁠—"

"What is it?"

"You left your armor stand the other day,"

"Hmph." Khury picked it up. "Good night, W'ren."