The Coquette and the Thane

PART II | Chapter XVII

2:17 | Liquor Burn and Crisis Bubble

“Brothers…sss, ‘s’…plural,” Baisyl corrected, frowning at the mug before him.  “I have two, Rhyan and Myles.  This…stuff…” He waved his hand in a vaguely accusatory fashion at his ale for lack of a suitably vile word to pin it with, “…tastes revolting.  I had hoped consuming more of it would dull my sensitivity to the flavor.  How do you stand it?”

“I try not to.”  Kedean kept his eyes on his dish, working methodically through the last of the food on his plate, and Baisyl glanced up, his own food half uneaten, forgotten after the initial rush to feed himself ebbed.

“Try not to what?”

“Stand it,” Kedean clarified.  “I agree, it tastes terrible, and if possible, I avoid it.”

For some reason, this was irritating.  Perhaps because it meant he was stuck alone in his suffering?  Baisyl pursed his lips, running his finger idly around the lip of his mug.  “So, you’re not going to drink at all?”

“In my experience, the sole appeal of consuming cheap alcohol is the promise of drinking oneself beyond the point of caring, and with you, I trust myself little enough as is.  I’d rather have my wits about me.”

Baisyl blinked.  “And whatever is that supposed to mea-”

“You should eat more,” Kedean advised.  “It’ll help balance off the alcohol and keep you from tossing up.  And it’s not economical to get me drunk…it requires too many drinks.”  

Baisyl scoffed.  “I’m sure I could afford you,” he remarked and tilted his mug towards himself, eyeing the contents without actually bringing it to his lips.  When he caught sight of Kedean’s raised eyebrow, he cleared his throat.  “It,” he corrected.  “I’m sure I could afford it…the alcohol, that is…that it would take to…inebriate you.” 

For lack of a better method to avoid meeting his companion’s eyes, Baisyl lifted his drink fully and made a concentrated effort not to grimace this time.

“How much have you had?” Kedean asked, the amusement in his tone just prominent enough for Baisyl to pick up on.

“I’ve…only…” Baisyl glanced about the table.  “Either…” He frowned, “…too many or not enough?” 

Kedean opened his mouth. 

“Not that much,” Baisyl elaborated quickly.  “One and a half, if I had to guess…or possibly two and a half…”  At Kedean’s look, his puzzled frown hardened to a glower.  “This body is small,” he clipped defensively.  “It’s more susceptible…and in any case, my senses are still completely about me.  I believe I’m handling my liquor rather well so far, all things considered…”

Silence.

Huffing, Baisyl snatched up what remained of his drink and downed it.  At the resulting head rush, he stifled another grimace and a groan and made a mental note not to try that again.  “There,” he managed, “…two…or three.  And while we’re not on the topic, there’s something I’ve been meaning to ask you…”

“Should I pray first?” Kedean asked.

Baisyl ignored him.  “Why aren’t you more concerned?”

Kedean blinked, not expecting that.  “Concerned?” he repeated, confused.  “About your…drinking habi—?”

“About that prophecy!” Baisyl snapped—perhaps a touch more brashly than he intended—and a brief, half-quiet settled over the nearer part of the tavern, several tables around them hushing to turn and look at the outburst.  He sank an inch in his seat, shutting his eyes and pushing his empty mug away from him with one hand, pinching the bridge of his nose with the other.  “Alright,” he conceded blearily, “…that may be enough alcohol for now after all…”

“Baisyl-”

“I don’t…want…to get pregnant,” Baisyl keened, this time significantly more whiney than he planned, but he figured the after-throbbing in his head allowed for a little of that and didn’t bother to rectify the situation.  “When I first heard you speak of it I nearly fainted, Mele protect—and I don’t make a habit of fainting, just so you know…” He added the interjection with emphasis because he considered that portion to be of particular importance, “…but I let it go in light of the fact that, well, plainly speaking, I fully intended to kill myself at the time and didn’t figure child birthing would ever have a chance to play some horrendous role in my later life…”

Kedean cleared his throat.  “Milor—err, milady, I’m not sure this is the best place-”

“But even later you never brought it up again!” Baisyl persisted.  “I would have thought it would have at least been a weight on your mind, as it certainly has been on mine, and it couldn’t possibly be a coincidence with something that specific-”

“Milady-”

“-but at least at the outset I honestly had no desire to share myself with you this way.  I put it from my mind, convincing myself that since you clearly weren’t about to push yourself on me, the entire issue could be solved by us parting ways at the earliest practical opportunity and I needn’t fret further over it.  Unfortunately, the more time I spend in your presence, and the more-”

Clack, was a fresh mug of ale arriving at the table as the emptied one was taken up, and Baisyl reached for it, murmuring a “Thank you” to the waitress and ignoring Kedean’s frown as he drew it to him.

“Mm…” He shut his eyes as the liquid rolled over his tongue, pursing his lips thoughtfully, “…still awful,” he deduced.

Across from him, Kedean sighed.  “I think I’m missing the point of this exercise.”

“The point,” Baisyl insisted, “…is to achieve some degree, however insignificant, of relaxation.  If peace of mind requires an alcohol-induced state of mindlessness, then at the moment it’s a price I’m willing to pay…”

Kedean frowned.  “Even in that case, I think you’re escaping your goal.”

“Oh?”  Baisyl tilted his head back, scrunching his eyes shut and letting his come to head rest against the back of his seat.  “How so?”

“You’re fretting more than usual,” Kedean observed point blank.

“Ah, no,” Baisyl corrected, sitting back up and raising a finger to specify, “…I’m fretting aloud more than usual.  I’m stressing less over appearing relaxed despite being stressed, and thus in the process of relaxing I appear more stressed despite being…” He trailed off a moment, considerate, “…well, not relaxed yet, per say, but certainly…somewhat more…”

“Complicated.”

Baisyl blinked.  “That…wasn’t the word I was looking for,” he said, “…but I suppose, on some levels, perhaps, depending on your point of view…”  He took a sip, and when he lowered his mug asked, “You think I’m complicated?” 

Kedean eyed him for a moment, opened his mouth as if to comment, glanced to his mug, and shut it again, opting for silence. 

Baisyl pursed his lips.  “Alright,” he insisted, “speak up, what is it?”

Kedean waited another moment, clearly picking and choosing his words, and then said with all due care, “You…are…at least as difficult to make sense of as any woman I know…and if that weren’t enough, you find a way to further complicate every situation you land in more quickly and readily than anyone I’ve ever known, man or woman.”

Baisyl considered this.  “So…” He drew the word out, “…you find me…bothersome?” he guessed.  “Demanding?  Hazardous?  Insane?  Half-witted…?”

“Definitely not half-witted, no,” Kedean said.  “Just…complicated.”

Baisyl huffed, unsatisfied.  “You know, I think most worthwhile people on this planet are.  Otherwise, where would the intrigue be?”

Kedean smiled.  “Well, you may rest assured that very few, if any, do it quite so fantastically as you.”

Baisyl blinked, startled by the—was that a compliment?  “Thank…you?”

“You’re welcome.  Are you drunk enough yet?” Kedean asked.

“Drunk…enough for what?” Baisyl countered, and Kedean’s eyebrows notched up a quarter inch.  Baisyl felt warmth in his cheeks and diverted his eyes back to the table, clearing his throat.  “Very well, on second thought…don’t bother answering that.  Whatever the case, I likely am.”  After a moment, he frowned, pensive as a thought occurred to him.  “We got sidetracked,” he realized aloud.  “I was onto something…”

“Were you,” Kedean said neutrally, setting his utensils aside.

“Yes, I—oh, the prophecy!” Baisyl remembered abruptly, looking back up.  “I was asking why you don’t…you never show the least bit of concern!  And-”  Kedean stood, and Baisyl eyed his ascent with a puzzled scowl.  “Where are you going?”

“Upstairs.”

“Why-”

“This is a poor place, as well as a poor time, to discuss this.”

“You…but-”  Baisyl made an attempt to stand, which ended disappointingly poorly with a head rush and wobbly knees, and he landed back in his seat seconds later, irritated and glowering at nothing.

Kedean waited a moment, and then held out a hand; Baisyl blinked at it.  “Unless you’d rather stay here,” he said.  “In which case, you’re perfectly welcome to remain and drink a couple more on your own until-” As soon as Baisyl reached out, Kedean’s fingers folded neatly around his, and a second later the same firm, steady grip lead him up—only for the floor to tip and rebel at the last moment. 

“Uhnph…” Luckily, Kedean’s chest broke his fall.  “Mmn…hell,” Baisyl mumbled with a half-sigh.  “Now, I think…” he continued blearily, his sentence muddled by the cloth of his guard’s tunic, “…I remember why I don’t drink…”

“Oh?” Kedean asked, chin clear above Baisyl’s head and hands at his waist, holding him steady. “And why’s that?”

“Be…cause,” Baisyl huffed, “…drunks make…” He made an effort to right himself, and halfway succeeded, “…fools of them…selves…” Hands more or less clinging to Kedean’s shirt front, he hummed thoughtfully, “…and you…are very, fantastically fit…have I informed you of that recently?”

Kedean eyed him; pretty brown eyes, Baisyl observed silently.  Were men that tall and murder-capable permitted to have ‘pretty’ features of any sort? 

When Kedean finally opened his mouth, Baisyl said, “Would you really have left me here, alone to my own devices and vulnerable with all these…ruffians?”

His guard drew a breath, and released it.  When he spoke, he said, “Do I need to carry you up the stairs…or are you still of sound enough mind and body to accomplish that feat yourself?”

“You never answer my questions,” Baisyl bemoaned.

“With all due respect, I’ll have to disagree and say that I answer the vast majority of your questions, milady,” Kedean countered.  “Now, I’ll ask again: do you or do you not need-”

“You never answer the important ones…”

There was a pause.  Then, “I see,” Kedean responded politely, “…and what does that say about the vast majority of your questions?”

Baisyl blinked up, and Kedean met his look with inquiringly raised eyebrows. “You’re…making fun of me,” he deduced, and Kedean smiled.

“I wouldn’t dream of it, my lady.”

Baisyl glowered.  “You,” He drove a finger into Kedean’s chest, “are positively a—ahhh!”

What started as a sentence degraded midway into something of a yelping cry as the ground disappeared out from under him, and his arms whipped around his guard’s neck, clinging desperately for a scarce few seconds before he realized-

“Put me down!” he demanded, nearly blubbering with his persistence—but not, contrarily enough, lessening his grip.  “This is preposterous!  I can walk perfectly well on my own, and do not need you carting me about like a shoddy sack of potatoes.  Your aid is unneeded and unwelcome, so unhand me this instant before I have yo—nnnngh…” 

About there, Baisyl’s words deteriorated, breaking apart in the face of a sudden splitting head rush, and a muted whine took over in their place, his eyes scrunching shut as he grounded his spinning head against the rock of his guard’s shoulder. 

“Okay, that…wasn’t…expected at all…myheadhurts…”

“Doesn’t surprise me,” Kedean responded, his words clear despite the smattering of various catcalls and vulgar whistles from their audience as he headed towards the stairs, but Baisyl—in sharp contrast to moments before—wasn’t in any mood to object any longer, and grumbled something about perverts and lowlifes without so much as lifting an eyelid.

“The food…” Baisyl mumbled.

“Paid for, if that’s what you’re wondering,” Kedean said, and Baisyl squeezed his eyes tighter shut with each footfall as they reached the stairs and ascended.

“You know, I’m…I can walk,” Baisyl assured his escort about halfway up, at least ninety percent certain that the statement was the truth.  He’d been fine at the dinner table, after all.  Sort of.  More or less, anyway.

“Well,” Kedean said, shortly after they’d reached the top and turned down the hall, “…let us hope that you can at least stand.”

“Erm…why-” Baisyl started to ask, more comfortable than he was keen to admit with his head nestled against his guard’s shoulder, when the world started slipping.  “Hey, wai—ainnnh…ugh…”

With contact with the ground came another decidedly unpleasant sense of upheaval in his stomach, and as if on cue, Baisyl’s legs promptly betrayed him—useless, ungrateful things—going limp as un-watered flowers under his weight.  Thus, seconds later, Baisyl found himself helplessly reliant on his guard’s support once more, clinging like a limpet to Kedean’s side as he retrieved the keys.  The lock clacked open, and quiet followed.

“Milady…”

“There’s…no one around, I can…be your lord now…”

A pause.

“Baisyl.”

Well, just as well, Baisyl supposed.  “Mm?”

“Do you intend to enter on your own, or…?”

“Oh, mm…right,” Baisyl said.  Entering, that made sense.  “No,” he said, and then frowned, rethinking that, “…or, that is, yes, I do intend, just…”  He pushed himself up, unfortunately finding catching his balance something like crossing a river on precariously small stepping stones or trying to catch fireflies with his toes.  Except that he wasn’t moving yet. 

And when, pray tell, had holding himself upright become so irritatingly complicated?  If he could just—whoops, not quite like that.  The world tilted, Baisyl swayed, and-



Kedean caught his elbow, rooting him.  “Baisyl-”

“Or if, you could…yes, umm…exactly like that, actually,” Baisyl said.  “We could go in together?” 

And so it was that entering the room became a team effort, after which Baisyl sank, gratefully, back against the nearest wall at the first opportunity.

“Milord, the bed is-”

“I am well aware where beds are, Mister Akuwa, thank you,” Baisyl cut in, eyes shut and head tilted back, his body lethargic but content to remain propped up for the time being.  “There is no longer the matter of a public setting to dissuade you…I have some unanswered questions I’d like to discuss prior to bedding, if you don’t mind…”

“Will you remember the answers come morning?”

“I am not that inebriated!” Baisyl insisted, verging on offended but reining it in with some effort seeing as a number of things—his flushed face and rebellious sense of balance among other things—likely played no small part in giving off the wrong impression.  “And I am very tired of your excuses and escape routes and dilly dallying on one thing or another-”

“Ask, then,” Kedean said, looking at least as ready to catch Baisyl if he spontaneously collapsed on to the floor in a heap as he did ready to cooperate with an interrogation.  Baisyl conveniently ignored that fact.

“Why…” he began, drawing a breath and shaking his head, “…are you…watching after me?  Why are you helping me?  Why are you with me…” he insisted, bringing hands to his chest for emphasis, “…when it is painfully obvious that I’m to play some key role in a future of yours which coincides with your brother’s death, I don’t…understand-”

“I told you,” Kedean clipped curtly, not meeting his eyes.  “I don’t believe in fate.”

“But it’s so obvious!” Baisyl burst out, his voice rising sharply without his meaning it to.  “Have you ever come across another man with my condition?” he demanded. 

“I suppose I wouldn’t know, would I?” Kedean responded flatly.

“It’s too ridiculously convenient to be coincidence-”

“So you’ve said.”

“-and she couldn’t possibly have known any other way but were she actually working with magic of some sort-”

“I can see you believe that.”

“-so I can’t find it in me to see why you haven’t at the very least acknowledged that-”

“That what?” Kedean growled out, his tone so abruptly harsh that it caught Baisyl completely off-guard and startled him silent as his guard rounded on him, meeting his widening eyes square on.  “That I’m…‘destined’ to murder my own brother?” he asked, a paper thin veil of civility masking a much darker undercurrent to his tone as he took a step forward.  “That I have ‘no choice’…” He continued moving in while he spoke, “…but to sleep with you, like this, whether either of us want it or not?  That I-”

“Wait-” Baisyl’s hand darted up, mimicking the first nervous jerk of his pulse as Kedean came close enough for him to halt his approach with a hand to his chest.

“Why?” Kedean asked, his voice so unfalteringly serious that Baisyl’s throat knotted with new panic.  “Because it seems, as far as you’re concerned…our fate is already sealed, and if you are so determined to bear my children-”

“That’s not what I meant-”

“Isn’t it?”

“No!” Baisyl snapped, horrified, and yet still found time to frown at himself for making the word sound more like a panicked chirp than an egregiously insulted comeback.  “I don’t…you…what could possibly make you think…” He stilled, a realization dawning.  “You think I’m that desperate?”

“I think you’re-” What started as something fierce, though, quickly deteriorated in the face of a weary, but determined sigh, and, “…drunk,” Kedean grumbled at last.  “I think you’re drunk,” he repeated, quieter, as if reminding himself of the fact, but if Baisyl noticed the tone, he didn’t show it.

“You think I’m a harlot!” he retorted, aghast, barreling on over Kedean when he opened his mouth again.  “Do you seriously believe the only reason I’m bringing this up is so that you’ll bed with me?”

“No!”

“Is that all you think of me?  That I’m some useless, blundering, nymphomaniacal…thing with nothing on my mind but-”

“Baisyl!” Kedean’s hand clasped over Baisyl’s mouth, earning him a startled blink from his charge.  “Please,” he grit out, “just…” He drew a breath, eyes shutting, “…stop…talking…for one moment…”  When he opened his eyes again, Baisyl silently met his stare.  “Do you think you can handle that?”

Tentatively, Baisyl nodded, and a sliver of tension sank from Kedean’s shoulders.

“Good,” he said, and slowly, warily, withdrew his hand.  Naturally, Baisyl opened his mouth a half-second later, but, “Ah,” Kedean tapped a finger back to his charge’s lips, “One moment, remember?” and Baisyl shut them again, cooperatively.  “You’re not useless, you’re only blundering when you’re drunk, and if I thought you were inexcusably promiscuous I wouldn’t have bed you in the first place, is that clear?” He lowered his hand.

Baisyl took this into consideration.  “So…” he said after a long moment, “…you only think I’m…excusably promiscuous?”

Kedean’s shoulders sank another half inch, though this time not out of relaxation.  “My lord-”

“Oh, yes, Mister Akuwa,” Baisyl drawled, irritation of a new sort seeping into his tone, “…by all means, I can see that we must be very formal about this now, as the situation certainly calls for it-”

“Baisyl,” Kedean clipped out, and a twitch of a smile quirked up the corner of Baisyl’s lip.

“Yes, what is it?” he asked, and Kedean released a breath.  An instant after he opened his mouth, though, Baisyl cut in with, “You know I’m not usually like this…” and Kedean blinked.

“Ah…like…?”

“That, is,” Baisyl cleared his throat, “…not like, well…obviously I’m not usually drunk, for starters,” he clarified, “…but what I meant more was, even usually…normally, in general, on a day to day basis, I mean…in my entire life, I’ve never…I don’t…the point I’m getting at is, I don’t tend to make a habit of…you know…” He trailed off, and frowned, leaving Kedean quite at a loss until he finally said, “I don’t like people…least of which any man even remotely like…you…I’ve never known anyone even remotely like you…ever…?”

“Nor I, you, milor—mm…Baisyl,” Kedean responded, but Baisyl’s curious expression remained.

After another moment, he added, “But I do, you know…” and Kedean looked confused.

“Sir?”

“Like you,” Baisyl clarified.  “I like you…” He hesitated a moment, as if debating about whether or not to reveal something, and then, coming on his decision, elaborated, “…quite honestly, a great deal more than I’m perfectly comfortable with.  I don’t think that necessarily makes me a harlot, but I simply haven’t had much practice with it, you see…so naturally, I think it’s rather unnerving to be bombarded with it quite rudely out of the blue for no apparent reason…”

Unfortunately, none of the elaboration was particularly helpful, and Kedean frowned pensively, eventually responding slowly, “Ah…forgive me for not following you perfectly, milord, but what exactly-”

“Are we friends?” Baisyl asked, as suddenly as if he hadn’t just finished going a multiple-sentence-long tirade about one thing or another that at least sounded more or less completely and utterly unrelated.

“Ah…” Kedean hesitated, “…well-”

“I mean,” Baisyl cut in, “…obviously we aren’t,” he clarified, “…and we can’t be, for any number of perfectly logical, sensible, unchangeable, and absolutely stupid reasons…the most obvious of which being that we’ve already slept together…sort of…if you really count that as…” His lips pursed, thoughtful, and a second later he burst out with, “Do you really suppose that even qualifies as sleeping together?  I mean you didn’t even…I still can’t fathom why didn’t just bend me over and fu-”

Kedean cleared his throat—loudly—and Baisyl’s look was almost…amused?  “The point you were getting to, milord?”

“Ah, yes, right, of course, naturally, a point…the point, umm…it was…” Baisyl paused, and after several moments too long, frowned again.  “I had a point.  What was I on about, anyway?”

Kedean sighed.  “If I had to guess…”  Baisyl waited.  “Something about us being friends…?”

“Oh yes!  We can’t be friends,” Baisyl said, “…because for one we’ve…sort of slept together…” Kedean opened his mouth, “…and for two,” Baisyl continued unawares, barreling over whatever he might have said, “…you’re a…a…” Here, he came to a pause.  “Umm…well, whatever you are,” he finished eventually, making a vague, all-encompassing gesture in Kedean’s direction, “…and I’m a lord…or…” He reconsidered, “…I was a lord…or was going to be a lord.  I was an heir…but I suppose now I’m a lady?”

Even in this state, the thought looked highly distasteful to him. 

“Well, whatever the case, I’m noble and you’re not, but…” he amended, “…my question more was, if it weren’t so that we aren’t and couldn’t ever be friends I wondered if you thought…that…we might possibly, actually be…friends…all other things aside.”

“You’re asking if we’re friends,” Kedean repeated, just to be sure.

“I’m asking if-”

“Yes, I think we are,” Kedean said, and Baisyl blinked up, as if surprised by the abruptness and sincerity behind the tone.  “Or…” Kedean amended with a compromising tilt of his head, “…I think that we would be, all other things aside, as you said.”

Baisyl’s smile came slowly, but warmly and more honestly and openly than Kedean could ever remember seeing it.  Seconds after it broke into place on his lips, his eyes darted down, uncharacteristically bashful, and he nodded with a murmur of, “Good…I’m glad.  It…would be a shame to finally be fond of someone only to find they failed to return the sentiment.”

“Yes,” Kedean agreed, “it would.”

“Well…then…” Baisyl said, after a brief pause, “…if there’s nothing else, then I’d suppose we ought to…I ought…to…mm…” His posture sank a fraction as he eyed the beds.  “Damn my fate to hell…” 

“Milord?”

“They…the beds…they are a bit of a ways away…aren’t they?”

After taking a second to tame his smile, Kedean offered a humble nod with a, “That they are, milord,” and a moment after that, lead his charge to the sheets.  It was some minutes later, after helping Baisyl out of his boots and as much of his clothing as Kedean trusted himself to remove and moving back to his own bed himself, before Kedean spoke up again.

“Baisyl…”

“Mm?”

His back turned to the sight, Kedean listened with habitual attention to the now-familiar sound of fingers working through braids, hair brushing intermittently against the bed sheets with each new flick of motion.  It surprised him that Baisyl had the sobriety to even bother with his hair, but he hadn’t paid it altogether much thought.

“I…have worried about it,” he admitted.  “The prophecy, that is, and…I am sorry for letting you think otherwise and avoiding speaking with you about it.”  By now, the movement behind him had stilled.  “When I first heard it…I shoved it behind me, dubbing it nonsense.  I didn’t see any other way to take the words of a woman who…told me I would…”

“That, I understand.”

“I wasn’t aware of your curse at first, either,” Kedean pointed out, “…and since it came to my attention, it…well, events have been moving quickly.  I’ve thought about it, and it…does concern me, but…I can’t say I see reason in being concerned.”

“How can you possibly-”

“That is,” Kedean amended quickly, “…I don’t see how worrying over it can help,” he insisted, and finally took the time to turn, finding Baisyl’s eyes on him.  “If fate is as those who trust in it would say…then there’s nothing you or I can do about it, and if it’s not…then there’s no reason to act out in order to prevent something that isn’t set to happen.  Regardless…” He shrugged, “…my conscience rests easiest if I do only what I see as best in the moment…”

“And if-”

“I love my brother…more than anything in this world, my father and myself included,” Kedean murmured.  “There is…nothing I wouldn’t do, or give, to see to his safety, and if that is not enough, then…” He drew a breath, released it slowly, and shrugged.  “Then that is not enough.”

He lay back on his bed, folding his hands beneath his head and frowning up at the dancing shadows on the ceiling, cast by candlelight. 

“For now…I would rather believe in a number of possible futures that stretch out before us, determined by the choices we make…not manner in which hen gizzards spill themselves on wood.  Can we…leave it at that, unless the situation further calls for it?”

Silence met his question, and Kedean sighed, but didn’t press.  When he leaned up again though, meaning to stand and put out the candle, Baisyl cut him off with a, “Wait, don’t.  Watch…” 

And watch Kedean did, his eyes curiously entranced as Baisyl, too, sat up, his lips curving into a small, tight circle as if to blow a smoke ring or whistle.  Instead, he blew just once, a single gentle puff of air, and from across the room—impossibly out of range—the fire lighting the room flicked out, leaving only moonlight to douse his charge’s pleased smirk in a soft, silvern glow. 

“There,” Baisyl said quietly, after a moment’s silence.  “Sleep well…Mister Akuwa.”

‘Show off,’ Kedean thought, but smiled in spite of himself, and aloud he said, “And you, milord.”

At least, he mused as he drifted to sleep, if he’d succeeded in nothing else that evening, he could rest assured knowing no children had been sired by his doing on this night, and that—given the circumstances—he considered to be a notable victory.

---

A/N:  Alright!  So, it's...been...a bit, and this chapter isn't terribly long or particularly good, BUT it's here, and hopefully that means more chapters will be coming (sooner rather than later).  Originally (in my head) this had a lot more sexiness and a was a MUCH larger strain on Kedean's powers of ultimate resistance, but...it turned out to be more relationship development in a subtler way as well as answering why Kedean isn't freaking completely out about the prophecy.  In sum: he's had longer to deal with it than Baisyl AND he refuses to believe he'd hurt his brother SO he feels more comfortable assuming the prophecy is fake and/or only one possible future, not set in stone.

The forcast for next chapter is plot development, plot development, and plot development...with a side of absolutely-not-at-all-jealous!Baisyl IF I get that far in one chapter.  We'll see.

Took a very long time to get this out here to you; honor me by taking a minute or two to review?  :3