For Lord and Land

For Lord and Land
By: Delilah deSora
Part 3
Chapter 3

**

In the tales it is always the hero who saves the victim time and time again. However, the victim is never really saved until it is his turn to save the hero.

-Sibley Varden

**

Glancing at the fading sun Sibley begged leave from his superior, citing his need to get to the apothecary before the man shut down for the night. The elder Ardaen man shooed him off, informing him that if he needed it they could spare him for a day, should he continue not feeling well. Assuring the man that the gesture was appreciated but not necessary, Sibley slipped out into the hall and made his way to the bottom floor of the palace where a few rooms had been converted into small shops to ease the life of those employed and residing in the palace.

Over the sickening sweet smell of pastries Sibley detected the bitter odor of herbs and he followed it to a shop cloistered in a back corner. He entered and found himself surrounded by chattering nobles and false potions, the likes of which were sold on the main streets of Wyrllyr to “soothe the ills of the noble mind”.

Laughing softly to himself he made his way through the crowd to the back where he knew he would find what he was really looking for.

A sour faced man glanced up at his arrival and before he could hand the man his request he found a set of packages thrust into his hands with the a sharp reprove that if there was such a dire need for the medicine he should have come sooner. Sibley stared at the packages in confusion and moved to correct the error when a second packet was added the pile.

“I know he won’t want to take it but we should make the effort anyway. That way when he catches the fever as well I can at least state that I gave him the medication to prevent it.”

Sibley blinked. “Who is it for?”

The man gave him an incredulous look and began herding him towards the door, along with the crowd of last minute shoppers. “The Emperor, of course. You should lie down when you get back. You look pale and the fever is obviously muddling your mind. Hmph! Leave it to the nobles to send a sick man for his own medicine. Be sure you drool all over his pillow, that will teach him.”

And with that the door was closed firmly in his face, leaving Sibley staring at the packages in his hands and a sudden spark of hope flaring in his mind. Glancing around he steeled his nerve and began the long walk to the Emperor’s wing. To his surprise he wasn’t stopped until he had reached the door to the Emperor’s room and even that wasn’t more than a hesitation as the man looked him over before noticing the packets in his hands and ushering him through.

He hesitated at the threshold to the room, the realization of what he had done reaching him at the same time as the soft click as the door behind him was closed firmly. He drifted forward timidly, trying desperately to make out the shapes in the semi-darkness of the room. The remains of a fire caste bits of light but not enough to truly see.

His heart nearly stopped as something moved on the bed before him. A figure sat up and for a terrifying moment he thought it was the Emperor.

Then blue eyes opened and fixed on him.

Sibley dropped the packages in his hands and flung himself on the slowly blinking form, knocking the larger man back against the bed.

“Sibley?”
pullpulled back and smiled brightly at his lover’s confused look. “I knew you weren’t dead!”

Dante was staring at him like he was the one who had just returned to life and Sibley laughed. Capturing the confused face in his hands he kissed his lover, melting into the gesture. Hands grabbed his forearms and he cried out in surprise as he was forced back at arm’s length.

“What are you doing here!” Dante hissed, peering past him at the door.

Remberance struck him as to where he was but Sibley couldn’t bring himself to care. “I’ve been looking for you.”

“You have to leave, Sibley! If he finds you here . . .”

Sibley shook his head. “There’s a dinner tonight. He won’t be back for hours.”

“Trust me,” Dante growled pushing him off the bed and back to the floor, “he’ll be back before that dinner,” he paused suddenly, “How did you get in?”

Remembering the packages Sibley turned and gathered them off the floor, grateful that none had spilled. “I went to get my medicine and I ended up with yours.” He explained, carefully placing the packages on the side table and peeling the larger one open. “You are ill?” He asked.

Dante nodded absently. “Fever. Nothing deadly.”

“Will it hinder you when we flee?” Sibley asked.

The other man stiffened and Sibley blinked as he was caught with firm eyes. “I’m not leaving, Sibley. And if Cian thinks he can force me to by sending you . . .”

Sibley sniffed in irritation. “Cian did not send me. I came on my own! I am capable of choosing my own actions, you know,” he paused a moment, \"Cian knows?\" He asked.

Dante sighed and shook his head. “You know that is not what I meant! But . . . if Cian did not send you how did you know to come here?”

“I saw it, in my dreams. I saw you and him. I saw that you were trapped here and lonely so I came.”

A hand touched his arm and Sibley looked away. “Thank you,” Dante whispered, drawing him forward and into a hug, “but I cannot leave here. There is . . . something I must do that only I can accomplish.”

Sibley buried his face against his lover’s neck. “Then let me stay.” He whispered. \"I can help you.\"

Dante shook his head. “You can’t. I wish you could, I miss you, but . . . it can’t be.” Sibley found himself pushed back gently. He watched with sadness as Dante fumbled with something about his neck. With trembling hands he held captured his former lover’s hands and pressed something into his cupped palm. “I’m sorry Sibley. I know I promised but . . . ”

Sibley stared down at the silver ring and he shook his head firmly, draping the chain back around his former lover’s neck. “No! You promised,” he whispered, tears stinging his eyes, “I won’t let you go back on it.”

Dante stared up at him sadly. “Sibley . . .”

The scholar shook his head and turned back to the open package. He recognized the powder and turned, his eyes falling on a pitcher and glass on the table. He poured, surprised to find water and stirred in the powder. He shoved it at the man on the bed. “You should take your medicine, Dante, or else you’ll never get better.”

Dante opened his mouth to say something but at the last minute decided against it. With a sigh and murmured ‘thank you’ he drained the glass and handed it back. Sibley set the glass aside and silence reigned for a few moments.

“You should go, ‘ley.” Dante murmured, his voice turning sluggish as the powder dragged him teep.eep.

Sibley sat beside him, reaching out to brush the long hair away from his former lover’s face. “I’m not leaving you,” he whispered, leaning down to press a kiss to the warm forehead, “I won’t leave you here alone. You don’t deserve that. I’m staying. I’ve been working as one of the Emperor’s scribes. My room is on the secoloorloor, fourth on the left from the stairway.”

Dante shook his head but heavy lids drooped and Sibley watched as his lover’s breath evened out. With a sigh he stood and moved towards the door, pulling it open. Folding his arms about himself and mind full of confusing thoughts he nearly ran into the man standing in the middle of the hall.

He looked up in surprise and found himself fixed by seething green eyes.

“Find something interesting?” The Emperor asked.

Sibley swallowed but refused to back down. “How can you do that to someone trying to help you?” He demanded, “Can’t you see that you’re killing him?”

Pure rage twisted the handsome features. “How dare you!”

Sibley felt his own anger flare and he took a step forward. “I dare because I care for him!”

The Emperor stepped back, his face returning to its normal state. “You think I am killing him? Well, let me show you what it looks like when I am determined to kill someone.”

Hands clamped about his arms and a cloth stole his scream as Sibley was dragged to the floor. Ardel knelt, capturing the scholar’s thin wrist in his hand and prying thlverlver ring from his finger. He held the ring before angry blue eyes. “He’s mine, now. You will become nothing more than a memory and eventually even that will fade into forgetfulness.”

Rising he watched silently as Breven and the guard dragged the scholar from his presence. The struggling man’s motions were getting progressively weaker as he inhaled more of the drug. There was a sudden presence at his shoulder and he turned slightly, the red and gold of his knight’s uniform sparking the dragon rage that boiled withim. m.

“Clear his room and office. Sibley Varden was never here, do you understand?”

Dorjan bowed and disappeared. With a snarl Ardel moved to his door. He paused, listening for a few moments before pushing it open. The room beyond was dark, his fire nearly gutted in the fireplace. A form slept on his bed and he moved towards his Leviathan on silent feet.

There was an empty glass on the table and he lifted it, sniffing at the residue caked on the sides. Heogniognithe the bitter scent from years of childhood illnesses and he smiled darkly as he set the glass aside. He carefully scanned the table for anything left behind. Satisfied that nothing was there he moved towards the fire. On the table he caught sight of the scroll he had discarded earlier and he snatched it. Opening his hand he stared at the silver ring that sat there.

The dragon rage flared and with a snarl he flung both into the fireplace. They struck the wall sharply and the spark from the ring caused the fire to flare to life. He stood in silence, letting the heat of the fire wash over him and reducing the scroll to nothing but ash.

A sneer crossed his face and his hands clenched into fists. Dante was his and no other\'s. He would assure this. Even if he had to send his Leviathan’s entire past up in flames.

**

Dante murmured and peeled open his eyes. Sleep weighed heavily on him but he struggled against it, dragging himself up to a sitting position and staring about the dark room with wide eyes. He put his hand down to steady himself and blinked in surprise as it came down not on the warm blankets but on something soft and cool. Ardel slept at his side, leaning forward in the chair he had pulled up next to the bed. Dante frowned for he couldn’t remember Ardel returning.

But someone had returned, hadn’t they?

He gently stroked the long hair until green eyes blinked open and his Emperor peered up at him sleepily. A bright smile crossed his face. “Feeling better?” Ardel asked.

Dante hesitated, something tugging at his memory and making this seem wrong. “Y . . .yes I think so. Shouldn’t you be somewhere?”

Ardel nodded and turned to the side table, drawing a package close to him. “I came back to check on you and you were crying out in your sleep. When I woke you you were confused,” long fingers stilled suddenly on the rope holding the package closed and green eyes slid to study him, “You called me by another name.”

Memory returned suddenly and Dante jumped in startlement. “Sibley! Sibley was here! He said he was working as one of your scribes!” Blue eyes darkened in pain and budding anger, “Why didn’t you tell me he was here?”

Ardel peered at his Leviathan in confusion. “Because he isn’t here. I have no scribes named Sibley. I’m sure I would have noticed such a thing.”

Dante frowned and pulled back. “But . . . he was here. He brought those packets!”

Ardel shook his head. “No. I brought the packets. The apothecary delivered them to me and I had them checked for poison. Surely you know I would never give you anything that hadn’t been checked. Not after . . .” He fell silent as a look of pain crossed his face.

The Aquilaen hesitated, his mind a whirl. “He was here!” He insisted, his blue eyes suddenly scanning the room. “I can prove it! I saw one of his scrolls!” Dante rose and scrambled to the table where he had left his discovery. He snatched up the scroll there and unraveled it . . . and froze. He stared at the scroll in confusion. “This . . . this isn’t the scroll that was here earlier.”

Ardel rose, gently taking the scroll from his Leviathan’s hands. “Dante, this is a new trade agreement from Fah’vale. I brought it here last night to go over it. It was drawn up by my head scribe, see his mark.”

Dante shook his head violently. “This is not the same scroll!”

Ardel caught his arm and shook him sharply. “Dante! You must calm down. Come back to bed.” He coaxed. anteante tore his arm away from his lover’s grasp. “He’s here! I saw him!”

“He is not here, Dante! Even if he was, how could he get in these rooms?”

“He brought the medicine! The guard thought he was from the apothecary!” Dante insisted.

Ardel shook his head firmly. “No, Dante. I brought the medicine. You were sleepy and confused. Sibley was never here.”

He cried out in surprise as he was shoved aside, his leviathan running past him and for the door. “Dante!” He yelled as the door was thrown open and his Leviathan was gone. Cursing under his breath he hurried after, calling to the guard who was hot on his Leviathan’s heels. The guard paused and he hurried past him.

Dante was incredibly fast and by the time Ardel had caught up to him he was standing before an open door, staring in confusion. Pausing to catch his breath he moved slowly to his lover’s side.

“There is no one here, Dante. What are you looking for?”

His Leviathan seemed to shrink in within himself and Ardel reached up to wrap his hand about the man’s arm.

“He said he was here.” Dante whispered, turning to stare down the hall. “Fourth on the left from the stairway.”

Ardel shook his head. “This room is empty, Dante. Look, even the bed has not been fitted. It has been empty for a long time.”

Blue eyes turned away and Ardel caught the shudder that ran through his Leviathan. “Come,” he whispered gently, “you are ill and tired. You must rest.”

Dante allowed him to coax him back to their rooms where he lovingly tucked him into his bed and gave him another dose of medicine to send him back to sleep. He perched on the edge of the bed and stroked his lover’s face, brushing the tears from closed eyes. The sight of them ignited the spark of anger.

There would be no more tears, he swore as he undressed and slid in next to his Leviathan, not over the man who sought to ruin all they’d accomplished.

He pressed a kiss to Dante’s unresponsive lips. “Forget.” He whispered against his lover’s lips. “There is only us now. Only us.”