For Lord and Land

For Lord and Land
By: Delilah deSora
Part 2
Chapter 5

**

Today was such a wonderful day! I am still so full of excitement that I can barely keep my hand steady enough to write! Today was my birthing day and though Falen had always recognized the day by giving me some small trinket I did not expect him to remember it, especially not with all that has been occupying his time lately.

But he didn’t forget!

He woke me well before dawn and brought me ces, es, telling me to hurry and dress. It was so strange to put on normal clothes again but I did as he asked. He then bundled me up in a heavy cloak, careful to tuck all my hair under the hood where it wouldn’t be seen and ushered me out the door. I was confused and more than a little fearful but he whispered to me not to be afraid.

We went outside and, oh how to explain this? There was a cold breeze blowing but . . . it was such an amazing feeling! Even though it stung my skin I turned my face to it, letting it blow against it until my eyes watered. To someone who is used to the breeze it may seem silly but you must understand that I haven’t felt the wind on my face since they brought me here nine years ago and it mesmerized me until Falen tugged at my sleeve, urging me to follow him.

Hek mek me to the stables where a large stallion stood waiting for us. He lifted me up onto its back and came up behind me. He urged the mount out and we rode through the city until we reached the river his forefathers had ordered built. There we sat together and watched as the sun rose above the Serpent’s Shadow. Aidan’s Peak flared as though the volcano had erupted to life and the sun sat upon its peak for a few precious moments.

It was breathtaking!

He whispered to me that only the birth of someone as precious as I could cause such a display of divine nature. Words that may seem silly to you but words that warmed my heart. e lae lay together, clothed only in the morning sun, and proved our love eac each other before the gods themselves. I wished it could have lasted forever. As Falen lay beside me afterwards I stared down into the water that passed by, thinking of how changed it was from the ice of the north and it made me realize how changed I have also been. I am a far cry from that foul mouthed, angry little thief that Falen’s knights dragged from the island that had been my home.

When they had brought me to Falen I fought against his attempts to lie with me tooth and nail. He even bares scars from my first few months. I wonder if any of the other Leviathans ever scarred their Emperors? I suppose it does not matter. His patience and kind heart eventually won out. He even read the journals of previous Leviathans to me since I did not have the knowledge to read them myself.

How many hours did he spend sitting there in that chair reading page after page when he should have been sleeping? I do not know but he did it without compt. Nt. Never once did he refuse me when I carried one of River’s or Milya’s journals to him. When there was something written that I did not understand he explained it to me. When I cried over the treatment Priorden Llyr suffered at his great-grandfather’s hands he soothed me and promised that nothing like that would ever happen to me and the Priorden lived the rest of his years in happiness as his grandfather’s Leviathan.

Eventually I learned to read and write on my own but sometimes I still carry a journal to him, just so I can lie against his chest, listening to the sound of his voice as he reads to me.

I may be kept trapped within a set of walls but Falen has given my tattered soul wings. He has given me knowledge, love, and friendship. He has given me a new life in exchange for the life that would have failed me in some dark alley one night. He has given me warm memories to replace those that plague the sleep of a street rat.

They are memories I will cherish all my life.

-Tobias Llyr
Emperor’s Leviathan
Year 1103

**


So it was that, come the next day, Ardel was delighted to find that fate seemed to favor him yet again. He had asked one of his newer scholars if they knew of a man name Sibley from Wyrllyr and, to his absolute delight, the man had nodded eagerly. He had fled to whatever corner of the palace he had made into his office and returned with a thick roll of papers that had turned out to be an application under consideration from a Sibley Varden, currently in the employ of Malachi Kaemon, in Wyrllyr.

Ardel had laughed aloud, startling the anxious page, and ordered the application accepted immediately. His senior scholar had been hesitant, pointing out that there were better Ardaen scholars who should be given a position but Ardel refused to be turned from his course. He wanted Sibley Varden and he made it clear he would get Sibley Varden, even if he had triptrip certain senior scholar of his rank and place the Aquilaen in the new opening.

An acceptance with the offer was promptly drawn up and Ardel watched it ride off with a sick sort of glee. Dante’s sword had been delivered into his care without Dorjan’s knowledge and was well on its way to a private blacksmith to have a copy made so that no one would question its complete disappearance. Plans were being made for him to travel to Fah’vale on the Ventae border and he was lookinrwarrward to returning to his Leviathan and prodding him with questions about his brother and his past.

Unfortunately fate would carry him only so far and before he could retire to his rooms he found himself herded out the door and onto a carriage bound for the northern city of Florin. Two of the cities council members had been killed in an accident and he was needed to reorganize the power structure among the nobles of that city. It was a job he found tedious and annoying to the extreme, especially as the first day drew to a close and left him no closer to determining which of the nobles were best to fulfill the positions.

It was nearly a week before he managed to stumble back to his carriage and go home. He huddled under a pile of covers, shivering in the desert heat and feeling the old suspicion and confusion threatening to muddle his mind. It frightened him and he practically fled to his room when they arrived at the palace. Dante had been obliging and he lay gratefully among the comforts of home, curled against his Leviathan’s broad back.

He played with the idea of releasing his tight hold on the fire that burned at the foot of the bed but rejected it in favor of keeping the dark haired man in bed with him. It was rare to get Dante to stay the night in his rooms and he knew it was a fight for the man to keep from returning to the room that was more receptive of his water based powers. Convinced not to raise the heat in the room to warm himself he pressed against the body next to him more firmly and nuzzled the wavy black hair.

Dante shifted and mumbled something under his breath. Ardel chuckled and his fingers found the dusky nipples, earning a sharp yelp from his Leviathan who caught his hands firmly in his.

“Morning.” He breathed seductively into the tanned ear.

His Leviathan growled and dislodged his hand. “Go . . .back . . . to . . .sleep.” He grumbled, pulling the covers over his head.

Ardel laughed and flung himself overtop of the covered form. “But I need someone to tire me out before I go back to sleep.”

A firm snort came from beneath the red covers. “You’ll have to do it yourself because this Leviathan is out of business for res rest of the day.”

Ardel moued. “And here I thought the resilience of my knights were a thing of legends.”

“It is but we’re also human and you’re insatiable.”

He laughed and rubbed his cheek against the body underneath him. “Mmm can you blame me? Come on, just one more time.”

Blue eyes peered out at him from a small opening. “Are you burning up?”

Ardel cocked his head. “No.” He admitted.

“Then there’s your answer!”

Ardel yelped as Dante rolled over, tossing him back onto his own side of the bed, and firmly encased himself in a cocoon of covers. Ardel sighed and nudged the form with his foot. The only response he got was a growl so he relented, flinging himself onts bas back. The bright red canopy stretched out overhead, the patterns dyed onto the silk cloth making it look like a sky of flame. He reached out, fingers trying to grasp at the colors. It was something he had done as a child when loneliness had dragged him from his nursery to his father’s rooms.

He smiled softly as he let his hands fall away. He had always loved the huge bed. He had spent hours making caves in the silken covers, pretending he was one of desert lizards burrowing through the red waves of sand. His father had always made the best prey and he had slithered through the red covers following him until his father had gotten too close to the bed and he’d strike, clinging to his father’s back or side while the Emperor pretended the dignified death of a sand lion.

Ardel exhaled softly, letting the memories of a man dead for six long years slip beyond his grasp. It had not been the dignified death of combat that had drawn his father’s rule to a close. Instead his father had died on his knees in pain as poison turned his body against him. It had been an unfair end for both his father and the captain of his guard who had been his father’s closest friend. It frightened him to think that something so simple as a plate of fowl shared late at night between two friends over a friendly gathering could bring a rule to such a sharp end.

Indeed, it had been just dumb luck that his rule hadn’t been ended that night as well. If it hadn’t been for the addition of a rare type of cacti that had been added to give the fowl a distinctive taste that he abhorred he would have died as well. But fate had been kind to him and of the four people present in the rooms that night only two had survived.

Ardel closed his eyes tightly, feeling the guilt well up within him. A young serving girl had been caught with the poison in her possession but it had been clear to any who heard her protests that she had not been the one to administer it. She had neither the motive nor the means to use it nor had she the money or connections to even obtain it. No, he had never believed her guilt in his father’s death. Not when a far more convincing alternative lived just beyond his father’s rooms. Not with a silver haired guard whispering lies in his ear.

He shuddered. He’d been so sure it had been the silent man who had also been present that night that had caused his father’s death. His suspicious eyes hadn’t missed the fact that his father’s slave hadn’t eaten from the poisoned plate. His ears had never heard a single sob slip from beyond the curtained doorway. Never mind that Aquilaens never ate fowl, for it was anathema to them to take in the flesh of creatures they had always admired. Never mind that his father’s Leviathan had been born with a defect that kept him from uttering any sound. Never mind the fact that his father’s eyes had always softened when he looked upon the man.

Ardel turned to glance at his side where Dante had loosened his hold on the covers in his sleep and they had slipped down around his shoulders. He reached out and gently stroked the black hair, marveling at its smoothness. He wondered if it was wrong of him to be unable to wish things had been different. He regretted the death of the silent man who had wanted nothing more than to help him but he couldn’t bring himself to want to go back in time and change his decision.

No matter how hard he tried he couldn’t imagine life with his father’s Leviathan in his bed. He didn’t want him in his bed. The man had been meek and servile, always at his father’s shoulder in case the Emperor should need anything, no matter how small. His father had seemed pleased with those properties in his lover but Ardel knew he couldn’t abide it in a lover of his own. There were servants to do those things for him. He didn’t need another person lurking around to do his bidding.

What he needed was someone who would treat him as an equal. Someone who would push him back if he pushed too hard. Someone who would talk to him, not up to him. Someone who would challenge him.

Even if it meant he wouldn’t get what he wanted when he wanted it all the time.

He smirked and sat up, glancing fondly at his Leviathan’s back. He had failed his father\'s Leviathan but he swore he would protect this one. He swore that Dante\'s fate wouldn\'t be the same as so many Levithans. He swore that the Dante\'s journals wouldn\'t be one that caused future Leviathans to tremble in fear or cry late at night in sorrow.

All these things he swore to whatever gods were listening as he parted the closed drapes that kept the prying eyes of the servants from seeing who shared his bed. They knew he had a slave who lived in the stone room that served him in a way they did not and the privacy was not for their sake. They saw plenty of nobles sharing a bed with a favored slave or servant and, though it was a pretty thing to claim that the Emperor was above such things as earthly pleasures, everyone knew better.

No, it was for Dante’s piece of mind. He knew the proud knight that lurked within the dark haired man would quell at the knowledge that others had observed his servitude. Ardel laughed softly as he summoned the pair of servants in charge of preparing him for the day ahead. He could care less who saw who shared his bed but for his Leviathan’s sak was was willing to be a bit more discrete.

He knew that his Leviathan woke the moment the two servants arrived and he also knew that it would be impossible for the former knight to go back to sleep until they were gone so he urged them to hurry, forcing them to settle for less ornate hair and paint styles. They drew his long red hair through the twisting serpentine bodies of one of his coronets and added only a bit of powder to his lips and eyes.

On days when his halls were opened to the populace or when he ventured out among them it could take an entire morning of preening to make him presentable. He’d had his hair twisted into truly amazing designs and his face had been turned into a canvas of art. Today, however, he sat only long enough for them to brush powdered clay onto his lips and eyes. A thin layer of gold was blown over his hair and brushed onto his face before he stood, shooing them away from him.

He quietly left instructions for them to return after Dante’s own slaves had finished with his own daily grooming and what he expected of them before they slipped from the room, quiet as a breeze. Gathering the day’s schedule he indulged in a sleepy kiss with his lover before banking the fire and leaving the room in the darkness he knew that Dante found soothing.

**

Dante sat limply, letting the servants tug at his hair and rub at his skin until he swore they’d rub him raw. He yawned, earning a reproving snap from the oldest of the trio. He bit back the annoyed words that threatened to spill from his lips, knowing it would do him no good.

His head was tilted forward and oil worked into his hair. He closed his eyes in bliss, enjoying the talented fingers that massaged his scalp before brushing the oil through the shoulder length strands. He dozed as they worked, only stirring to respond to a sharp command. He was glad that they had stopped trying to paint his face. The first time they’d done it the powder had irritated his eyes and he’d rubbed at it, smearing the black kohl all over his hands and face, which had annoyed the servant who had to reapply it all over again.

When they’d finished they’d proudly preed hed him to Ardel who had laughed at him. He’d been completely mortified and the red haired Emperor had taken pity on him and helped him wash it off. Ardel had sworn he hadn’t been laughing because he looked ridiculous. He’d been laughing because Dante had looked so pitiful sitting there, despite the fact that Ardel rather fancied the paint that had been applied.

His hair was pulled back into a tight tail at the base of his neck and he opened his eyes in surprise. His usual servants filtered out, making room for Ardel’s two personal servants, one of whom was tying off the tail at the back of his head. The older man before him settled a package on his desk, pulling it open. He shook out a pair of pants and Dante felt his heart leap in excitement.

The servant behind him urged him to his feet and he complied readily. He was handed the pants and he eagerly pulled them on, surprised to find the black scaled leather fit him perfectly. A deep blue linen shirt was pulled over his head and the fabric was gathered at the wrists with black ties so that it billowed about his arms. Over that was added a vest, almost an exact match for the pants except that these scales held a distinctive iridescent sheen to them. It was an expensive snakeskin that screamed of Ardel’s particular taste. B glo gloves were slid over his hands and he peered at them curiously.

They weren’t the silk court gloves that Ardel often wore that were just there to be fashionable nor were they the thick bulky leather of work gloves. These were made of supple leather and cloth that protected the hands yet gave the fingers a wide range of movement. They were gloves designed to protect the hands without getting in the way. He had seen them worn by nobles who were forced to ride a long distance.

He frowned and looked up at the servants questioningly, not terribly surprised when the look was ignored. He was directed to step into a pair of boots that were firmly strapped and buckled about his ankles. He was given a final once over before propelled towards the door leading to the hall. He froze at the threshold suddenly unsure.

Dorjan had made it quite clear that he wasn’t supposed to leave the rooms.

Ever.

The elder of the servants stepped around him, sparing an annoyed look and opened the door. One of Ardel’s personal guards stood there, waiting patiently. A hand pushed him from behind and he stepped forward before he could stop himself. The guard’s eyes fixed on him and for a terrifying moment he thought he’d been recognized but the brown eyes reached his face and promptly dismissed him as nothing more than an assignment.

“Come.” The guard replied, turning on his heel.

Dante hesitated only a moment before hurrying to catch up to him, the chance to escape the confines of the two rooms that had become his entire world overruling the fear that his former superior might be angry.

He was lead through deserted servant halls to a wooden doorway and out into one of the loading areas that farmers and merchants used to unload their goods. He was herded into a plain carriage and for a moment the fear that he’d just walked into a trap of some kind overwhelmed him. Before he could do anything about it, however, the carriage lurched into motion.

Dante clung to the bare seat, his teeth clenched as he stared at the heavily curtained windows. He was torn between wariness and a feeling of foolishness. The only thing that tempered his self-depreciation was the knowledge that it was one of Ardel’s guards that had comehim him and the fact that his servants had dressed him in cloths that represented Ardel’s preferred fashion. The entire thing smelled of the Emperor’s influence.

The carriage slowed and finally stopped and he sat rigidly until the guard opened the door. He stepped out slowly alert for any danger but when none came he took the final step to the ground and peered about. Thin blades of green grass had sprouted from the sand, growing thicker as it neared the edge of the wide river. He smiled, despite himself at the sight.

The Araque was the only thing in Ardae that could be truly called a river. It had been built almost two thousand years ago to allow snow melted up in Ardae’s Glacae provinces to flow all the way down to the southern most point of the line of mountains known as the Serpent’s Shadow. A thousand years later it was expanded to the east through a gap in the Serpant’s Shadow to provide much needed water to Floraen. It was a technological marvel and helped to give Ardae more land that could be used for agriculture.

He noticed a small red pavilion set up down by the Araque’s bank and he glanced back at the guard who nodded to him. Wondering what the Emperor was up to Dante made his way to the pavilion. Halfway there he realized the entire area was devoid of guards and he frowned deeply. What was Ardel playing at? Surely he knew how dangerous it was for him to be so isolated? Even in a land where he was viewed as a god reborn he had to know there were some that meant him harm.

Dante stomped around the side of the pavilion and glared at the man lounging in the cooler shade, a glass dangling from his fingers.

Ardel peered up at him lazily. “My, such a fierce expression! Is it really such a horrible present?”

Dante scowled. “Where are the guards?” He demanded.

The Emperor waved absently. “Somewhere beyond the rise. I told them I didn’t want to see them or be bothered.”

The gesture drew Dante’s eyes to the brown gloves on Ardel’s hands and he frowned, realizing they were the same type he wore. His eyes swept downwards, taking in the tunic and knee length vest over top, as well as the tight pants. His frown deepened. These weren’t the Emperor’s court clothes.

“What are you playing at?” He demanded suspiciously.

Ardel’s smile widened, the bright green eyes sparkling with some hidden mischief. “Oh I am most certainly not playing at this, my demanding Leviathan.”

Dante kept his peace, folding his arms across his chest as he waited.

Finally the Emperor sighed and sat up, setting the glass aside before his hands came to rest on a cloth covered object before him. “Do you still want to come with me to Fah’vale?” He asked suddenly

The black haired man nodded slowly.

“Then I need proof that you can take care of yourself. The trip there will not be without its peril. I need to make sure that you won’t die on me out there.”

Dante scowled. “I have traveled back and forth from the shore to the Ventaen border and back again more times than I can count. I will hardly die just because I’ve been on the road for a week and I won’t fall just because some bandits decide we are an easy target.”

Ardel shrugged and flung off the cover. “Prove it.”

Dante blinked in surprise as Ardel rose, drawing a long thin sword from the low table that had been revealed by the removal of the cloth and leaving a second sword. He reached out automatically, lifting the familiar weight of his own sword.

“How?” He asked, turning.

Ardel had shrugged off the long vest and met his question with a sly smile. “I’m the Emperor. I get whatever I want.”

He walked to a flat piece of ground and stopped, his back straight and his sword held in a typical beginning position. Dante suddenly realized what Ardel wanted from him and he shook his head, lowering his sword to his side. “No.”

Ardel frowned. “I don’t recall giving you a choice.”

Dante shook his head. “This is not a game, my lord. These are real swords. They are for defending oneself, not playing around.”

The red haired Emperor’s face darkened. “Do not seek to lecture me on the uses of a sword! I am not some child playing at being a soldier. True I may not be a knight but I have had my fair share of training. I am not some weakling whose only recourse is to hide behind his guards. You insult me to think so.”

Dante winced. “It was not my intent to insult you, my lord.”

“Then prove it!” Ardel snapped, “Prove it by meeting me fairly as an equal.”

Again Dante shook his head. “I cannot raise a sword against you.”

“In that case you stay in the palace.”

Dante’s head shot up. “What? That’s not fair!”

“Then face me! Prove to me that you still have the heart and strength to fight. Prove to me that you are still more knight than slave. Face me, Dante. Break through the barrier they seek to erect around you. Only you can do that. Only you can take back a measure of your strength. Or perhaps you are afraid that you will fall before your Emperor’s sword?” Ardel teased, a faint smile returning to his face.

Dante scowled, his hand tightening on his sword, finding the correct fit easily. His practice eye took in Ardel’s stance, noting the effortlessness with which he held his own sword. It was a thin delicate looking thing but Dante knew better than to think that his own more substantial sword was superior. In the correct hands such a sword could be a powerful weapon for its sharp pointed tip could move fast, faster than a man wielding a broader sword could block. Somehow he suspected that Ardel’s were the correct hands for such a sword.

With a resigned sigh he answered the challenge, coming to stand before his opponent. He swung his sword in a few quick movements to loosen his arm, mentally tallying the muscles that strained from months of disuse. He recognized the purpose of the gloves now for they would protect his hands from the metal pummel and keep them from tearing or blistering. He marveled at the grip they lent him and how easily he was able to manipulate his fingers despite the cloth and leather.

Satisfied that they would not hinder him he lowered his sword to the basic first position, eyeing his opponent carefully. Ardel stood neutrally, his balance distributed evenly between the ball and heel of his feet. It gave no indication as to whether or not he was planning on moving aggressively or defensively. His grip on the silver sword was loose, the long fingers protected by the delicate looking filigree of golden fire that swirled up form the pummel forming the hand guard. His wrist was fixed but tilted slightly outwards, giving him a full range of rotation.

Dante’s eye moved upwards and he had barely a moment to realize that Ardel had suddenly lunged forward before his opponent was upon him. The long sword was swept in a backwards circle, bringing it straight up before Ardel drew it down diagonally. Dante was only saved by his instincts and the silver blade slid off of his with a series of sparks that startled him. He looked up and caught Ardel’s smirk, affirming his suspicion that the Emperor was playing with his powers.

With a grim smile he whirled to face a second lunge.

Ardel was impossibly fast, his speed making up for his disadvantage in strength. He was light on his feet and Dante had barely a second to recognize the redistribution of weight that would tell him which way the Emperor would lunge next. He managed to get in a few swings of his own that were always shrugged off to the side and through which he realized that Ardel wouldn’t be able to take more than one or two direct strikes.

He got in a direct strike once that hit Ardel’s sword directly in front of him so that he couldn’t push it off to the side. He saw the wince that crossed the pale face as the red haired man absorbed the complete force of the strike and he saw the way the thin sword wobbled dangerously and was nearly dropped. Ardel managed to side step and keep hold of his sword but Dante could see the strength the strike had shaken from the man. A second strike was all that would be needed but before he could give that final strike Ardel had regained his balance and was upon him.

He scowled as Ardel ducked under his swing and skipped away a few steps to regroup. “Are you dancing or fighting?” He snapped.

The red haired Emperor sniffed and swung his sword in a few quick sweeps undoubtedly to loosen tense muscles. “Why it’s the same thing, my dear Leviathan!” He declared and leapt forward, ending their brief exchange.

Dante found that he had to concentrate completely on his opponent and not just because of his speed. It had been years since he’d fought a left handed swordsman and he had to admit that Sibley really couldn’t have been called a swordsman. It was disorienting for he recognized Ardel’s movements and combination of strikes but it was as though he were watching them performed backwards. They came in from the wrong side and they struck his sword opposite from where he was used to strikes hitting. It was very disorienting.

That, combined with his fear that he might accidentally harm the Emperor and his weakening muscles, worked against him and when Ardel charged him the last time he became overbalanced and stumbled. Ardel was there waiting for the opening and he cursed as a foot hooked his ankle and sent him tumbling to the ground, a sharp point digging into his neck.

Ardel stared down at him, his red hair loosened from the tight tail it had been pulled into. Dante swallowed as he met green eyes gone dark. He could feel Ardel’s power rolling over him and he realized the fight had stirred the dragon’s blood within him.

“Ardel.” Dante whispered, staring at him firmly.

A soft laugh escaped from Ardel’s lips as he leaned down, the sword still pointed steadily at his opponent’s neck. “Looks like I win.” He said, his voice gone suddenly seductive.

Dante shivered and moved to get up but the sword dug into his neck, forcing him back against the ground. He gasped as Ardel kicked his sword away and knelt onto his chest. The Emperor’s knees pinned his arms down and he stared up helplessly as the sword was removed from his neck and set aside.

Hands cupped the sides of his face and he groaned as he was enveloped in a demanding kiss. Ardel’s mouth was hot against his and he thrust his tongue into the fevered cavern, thrilling as the Emperor’s tongue met and twinned with his. He longed to be able to bury his hands in the red locks but Ardel refused to release his arms, despite his muffled protests. Finally Ardel pulled away, staring down at him with narrowed eyes.

“I think you’ll make a fine prisoner of war, don’t you?”

Dante blinked. “A what?” He asked.

A sly smile slipped across the red haired man’s face as he reached down, his fingertips tracing over his Leviathan’s kiss swollen lips. “You heard me. And this way you can’t complain you’re too tired.”

The black haired man lay silently, unsure of what to make of the proposed plan. Ardel pushed back until he rested on his lover’s hips, playfully rubbing against the sensitive area until Dante flung his head back and groaned at the delicious friction. Smirking, Ardel made short work of the closed tunic and vest, shoving them to the side so he could feast on his Leviathan’s flesh.

Hot lips touched his collarbone and Dante hissed at the sensation. He peeled open his eyes and watched as Ardel nipped and licked along his skin, creating a hot trail of saliva down to a nipple. Sharp teeth closed about it and he cried out hoarsely at the pain/pleasure that coursed through him. He thrashed, only to have Ardel sit up and capture his face with both hands.

“Cross your arms behind you!” The red haired man ordered.

Hesitantly he did as he was told. Ardel’s hand moved to his sides and pushed, trapping his arms and leaving him truly helpless. “Keep them there.” The Emperor hissed before returning to his slow torture.

Lips and teeth teased the dusky nub until Dante was writhing underneath his lover’s weight. Ardel pulled back slightly, peering down at what he had wrought before blowing softly on it. Dante sobbed at the sensation it caused and thrashed. He peered up at the man above him and shuddered at the dark look he received. The man above him was nothing like the gentle creature that normally shared his bed. This was a creature of fire, unpredictable and completely in control. A dragon sitting above him, studying him as though he were prey.

He groaned and shifted, trying to relieve some of the pressure on his rapidly swelling member. Ardel submissive turned him on. So too, apparently, did Ardel dominate. Dante sighed and closed his eyes. Years of living with Sibley had taught him the pleasures of occasionally being on the receiving end and from past experiences he knew he was in trouble.

Ardel’s hands traveled up his ribs and circled about his shoulders to come down the center of his chest, ending at the waist of his pants. Ardel leered at him and slipped his fingers between the leather and his skin, making him shudder. His lover rocked his hips, grinding against his desire and tearing a hoarse cry from his throat. Ardel did it again and Dante licked lips gone suddenly dry as he watched the incredibly erotic scene of this red haired creature moving against him.

Ardel suddenly came down onto his hands and pushed his hips back until he was lying on top of Dante’s legs. With a sadistic smirk he lowered his face and closed his teeth gently over the bulge in his Leviathan’s pants. It tore a startled cry from the man and Ardel pulled back, rubbing his cheek over the growing member, cooing at it softly. He reached down and cupped the area beneath it. His lover groaned and rocked against his hand, rubbing against it firmly.

He laughed and pulled his knees up underneath him. “Roll over.” He growled, releasing his Leviathan’s legs from his weight.

As the man complied Ardel reached out and snatched the open shirt, tearing it from his shoulders and twisting it tightly about Dante’s thick wrists, trapping them together and pinned against the middle of his back. The sudden movement forced his lover to balance on his knees and Ardel wrapped an arm about his stomach to keep him from falling on his face. When he felt Dante catch his balance he let his hand slip lower to cup the arousal and kneed it gently.

Dante hissed and rocked against him. Ardel laughed. “Do you like that?” He teased, rubbing the trapped member steadily. His Leviathan glared at him from underneath the loose black hair that had slipped from the thong used to tie his mane back. Ardel reached out and snatched the thong away, letting the thick black waves slip free. Smiling he made quick work of the ties holding his lover’s pants closed and forced them down around his knees. He worked his own knees between his Leviathan’s, forcing Dante’s legs apart as far as the leather would allow. Releasing his own desire he spat upon the palm of his hand and used it to slick his hot flesh.

Pressing the head of his cock against his lover’s entrance he pushed until he was just beyond the tight ring of muscle, gritting his teeth at the pressure. Reaching out he gathered a handful of the thick black hair and pulled back, forcing Dante to arch his back. Ardel lay across him, pressing his lips against his lover’s ear.

“I feel up to a hard ride,” he murmured, pausing to catch the soft lobe between his teeth and tease it with his tongue, “shall we see if you can keep up with me, my dark stallion?”

Dante snarled a challenge of his own and Ardel flung his head back and laughed as he shoved himself the rest of the way into his Leviathan’s body. Dante was cool about his member and it sent a series of shivers through down his spine. It was like a balm to the fire that raged within and he pulled out, eager to repeat the experience. This time, however, his thrust was met by a sharp back thrust from his lover that almost unseated him. He blinked in surprise.

Blue eyes gone dark with desire stared back at him, daring him to keep his “seat” as it were. He flung his head back with a laugh and met his lover’s challenge. They worked against each other and he was hard pressed to keep the black haired man underneath him but eventually the flames of desire overtook them both and Dante stopped trying to unseat him and instead worked with him to help their desired goal.

The fire within him began to flare out of control and Ardel grit his teeth as he hunched over his Leviathan’s body, false sparks spilling around them as his power seeped beyond his control. Dante met his final thrust with a strange twist that sent him tumbling over the edge and he stiffened, crying out softly as the fire visibly poured out of him and into the man beneath him where it met the Leviathan’s power and was extinguished.

The influx of power triggered Dante’s own release and he clung to the broad back as spasms tore through his lover. Dante collapsed and Ardel rode him down, too weak to do anything else. He clung to the black haired man, waiting for his heart to calm and his strength to return. His eyes sought out the rise beyond them and he was glad to see that there was no one there to observe the exchange.

With a sigh he let his head fall back down, his eyes resting on the sparkling water of the Araque and the dense collection of foliage beyond it. Smiling softly to himself he closed his eyes, listening to his Leviathan’s steady heartbeat and letting it lull him into a half doze as his body sorted itself out.

**

Blood ran freely from Cian’s hand but he did not care. The pain in his hand was nothing compared to what he imagined the man before him must have felt. Though he longed to end that pain, to strike down the man’s attacker, he could do nothing but witness the event and swear that this man would be the last to feel such pain.

It was impossible for him not to recognize the Emperor’s pavilion, just as it was impossible for him to not have recognized the Emperor’s bright red hair or the nationality of the man he was forcing himself upon. Black hair hung around the unfortunate’s face as fire poured around him while he was used.

Used to feed the Emperor’s hunger.

How many Llyrs were needed to feed the Emperor? It confused him to see another Aquilaen being used so soon after his own brother\'s death. If the Emperor needed a new one every few months how was it that there were any Llyrs left?

Perhaps his brother hadn\'t been satisfactory? Perhaps the Emperor liked to keep them for awhile and his brother had made that impossible by fighting. Or perhaps the Emperor had a whole harem of them just waiting to be used and had decided to add a new addition to his collection only to be forced to use up his brother in one fell swoop to keep him from escaping.

A million thoughts ran through his mind but in the end it didn\'t matter. His brother was dead. Even watching this unfortunate did nothing to change that. His brother was dead and the Emperor had tossed him aside like a broken toy. It didn\'t matter what the original intention had been. It didn\'t matter if the Emperor had planned on keeping him alive for a hundred years or only a day. His brother was dead and it didn\'t matter what answers came to his questions. All that mattered was revenging his brother\'s death.

He watched as the man stiffened, his mouth open in a cry Cian could not hear, before collapsing motionless on the ground. The Emperor lay beside him for a few minutes before standing and stumbling back to the pavilion, leaving the man to lie alone on the river’s bank.

Cian grit his teeth, his hand closing tighter about the thorny tree he hid beside as he took one last look at the dead man. He had come back to Aidus to find proof that the Emperor had killed his brother. Well now he had it.

The thought of his brother’s life being taken in such a way sickened him.

He turned from his vigil and slipped soundlessly through the thick foliage at the river’s bank, his bloodied hand finding his brother’s promise ring. He had taken it from the coffin before leaving Wyrllyr and he wore it now as a sign of his purpose. His entire being screamed for him to charge across the river and kill the Emperor for this sin but the ring helped to calm his soul.

The Emperor wouldn’t be alone. There would be guards nearby that would be summoned as soon as the man caught sight of him. Guards that could stop him before he struck the Emperor down. No, he would return to the palace where the Emperor felt safe. There he could be sure to strike a killing blow before any of the guards realized his attempt. After all, who would think a knight would be a danger to their dear god?