Second Sight

Title: Second Sight
Author: MakaiKitty
Rating: NC-17 (overall)
Category: Original Fantasy, "Strings of Fate" storyline, Direct sequel to "Perceived Perceptions", an Eye of the Beholder Book
Pairing: Liam/Jasim, Tamall/Danne, Others
Warnings: Slash, M/M, Anal, Oral, Daemon Sex, Blood-play, BDSM, Violence, Mentions of past child abuse/rape, Angst, Language, Death
Distribution: My website, My LJ and any LJs I choose to post at, AFF.net, and FicWad. All of my accounts are under the user name MakaiKitty. If you'd like to use it just let me know.
Disclaimer: The characters, daemon realms, and situations in this story are all original and belong solely to MakaiKitty. Please don't steal, borrow, take, or otherwise use anything from my fics.
Updates: Just join my YahooGroup to be informed of any updates to this or any of my other fics - http://groups.yahoo.com/group/makaikittyfics
Status: Work In Progress/Novel Length

Second Sight

Chapter Two: Looking Beyond the Horizon

“So,” Constantine bounced along merrily between the two larger men, a hand attached to both Blaise and Liam’s arms, chattering away as they made their way down a long hallway and towards the royal audience chamber, “Who’s come to visit Brother?”

And what does he need us there for, Blaise wanted to add, but he held his tongue. It didn’t exactly come naturally to him, he’d been raised a mercenary, but he was trying his best to be a good prince. He didn’t want to let Constantine down by becoming an embarrassment to his family. And, as much as he hated to admit it, he didn’t want to let their king down either. There had been no small amount of animosity between Blaise and his brother-in-law from the first moment that they had met, and Blaise could grudgingly admit that he understood why, but only in recent months had the relationship between them become anything less than tense and strained. They both loved Constantine a great deal, and so they had done their best since the day of the wedding to get along as well as they could, if only to prevent further heartache for the youngest prince. And, much to his surprise, Blaise had recently come to find that he liked the man quite a lot. Cristopher was a good king, a fair and just ruler, and he was a good man as well. He was also a good brother to Constantine, which made all the difference in the former mercenary’s eyes. Now that they had stopped thinking of each other as adversaries and had begun to try and get along, for the sake of their mates and of those around them who they now could count as mutual friends, the two daemons had come to learn that they had much in common and they were, perhaps, on their way to becoming true friends. Although, no amount of fondness for his king could make up for the fact that Blaise had never been raised to be a prince, and sometimes the duties of the nobility wore thin on the warrior’s patience.

“A representative from Paaragora,” Liam answered, inclining his head toward Blaise and speaking as though he had heard his thoughts of a moment earlier, “And, since we have not had negotiations with their nation for a very long time, the king thought it best to have the entire royal family present to greet them. A show of friendship and respect to a long lost ally.”

Blaise felt sufficiently shamed to hang his head a bit, all thoughts of ducking out of the meeting fleeing in the face of Liam’s unspoken censure. He was a prince of Trovilla, by marriage if not birth, and he would not shirk his duties. Such an action would lack honor. He was left to wonder if the new-found freedom from his own father’s tyranny had not made him soft over the past year, and he silently apologized to both Constantine and Cristopher before perking up his pointed ears and listening to everything that Liam had to say. It was, he thought, the least that a proper prince could do.

“Where’s Paaragora again?” Constantine asked, wracking his brain for the position of what he was relatively certain was an island somewhere far from Trovilla. He’d never been allowed to study politics much when he’d been princess, or anything of importance really, and it was just recently that he was becoming properly acquainted with the world outside of his kingdom.

“Paaragora is a small island in the Cordinnian Sea, to the south of us,” Liam quirked one plum colored eyebrow at the silent whoop of excitement that Constantine seemed to give when he said this, but he let it pass and pressed on, “Their people are mostly sea daemons, makara predominantly, and they have been ruled over by Lord Tournkin for the past seventy-five years or so. Trovilla used to trade with them a fair bit, importing a number of rare minerals, until King Samuel cut off trade with them over some perceived slight nearly two decades ago.”

“Sea daemons?” Constantine sounded excited. He’d seen nothing but percurians, Liam being one of the few exceptions, for most of his life. He was thrilled at the prospect of meeting a new sort of daemon. “What are they like? Have you ever met one? Don’t they dislike being away from the sea?”

“I’m sure that they despise it,” Liam’s voice was suddenly very far away, his gaze not on the ornate double doors that loomed before them, “The Sea calls to them always. Sings her songs as a whisper in their ears, a melody that only they would understand, bidding them to make a hasty return. She prefers that her children stay near.”

Blaise reached out a hand and placed it on Constantine’s shoulder, causing his barrage of questions to die down to a whisper. Constantine hadn’t noticed it, but Blaise had heard the strained tone of Liam’s voice when he’d mentioned makara daemons, and he thought it best to not to press the issue. Something about their visitor obviously made the captain of the royal guard more than a little uncomfortable. He just wasn’t sure why.

“Lord Tournkin has sent a messenger to speak with King Cristopher,” that was when Constantine noticed what his husband already had. Except when they were in a formal setting with the nobles present Liam never called Cristopher by his title. They shared no blood, but the two men were brothers of a deeper nature, and family did not rest on formality now that the former king was in his grave. There was not time to ask what was wrong, however, as Liam pressed on without pause while their party fast approached the audience chamber. “The makara waits in the outer chamber. His audience has been delayed until we arrive.”

Two uniformed guards opened the large double doors with their intricate carvings of gold-tinted roses and exotic nobovas as they approached, bowing at the two princes and their captain. Liam went on ahead, nodding to his men as he passed, but Blaise and Constantine held back. They shared a glance, both having finally caught on to their friend’s odd mood but neither sure what to do about it. Or if they should, or even could, do anything at all. Certainly their captain was not the most jovial or lighthearted man to be found, and it was anything but uncommon to find him lost in dark thoughts on even darker nights, but this somehow seemed different from his usually melancholy attitudes.

“Is he okay?” Constantine asked worriedly, looking to Blaise for answers. “Are makaras dangerous or something? Should we be worried too?”

“So full of questions today,” Blaise was concerned for his friend too, but something about Constantine’s furrowed brow and the look in his green-gold eyes that said that his mind was frantically working even as he spoke made Blaise smile and distracted him from their problem. How anyone could look so fetching while frowning was a mystery to the prince. He was a man in love, to be certain, and Blaise was struck by the sudden urge to pull the other man close and crush their mouths together the instant that the frown marred his mate’s features. He wanted to indulge their passions before seeing to matters of state, and it was only with a great effort that he placed only a comforting hand on his pratetto’s shoulder and laid a chaste kiss on his forehead, right over his golden markings. “Liam’s fine and makaras are about as dangerous as a newborn kitten. Now, stop worrying and get in there before I lose control and steal you away before your brother ever gets a chance to present you to the visitors.”

Constantine quirked his head to one side, as he was wont to do when something his husband said puzzled him, unaware of just how serious the ebony eyed daemon was about certain threats. He was full of questions because he was confused. Liam was acting strange and now Blaise was acting even stranger. It was enough to make his head hurt. Blaise simply stared at him, offering no further explanations, so Constantine gave up and looped an arm through Blaise’s, walking in Liam’s path and trusting his husband to follow. With a sigh, he did.

***
“Presenting Sammir Olcandan Burvaraz, chief advisor to Lord Kasper Tournkin, official messenger of the island nation of Paaragora.”

Sammir Burvaraz was of average height and unremarkable features, a little thin but not abnormally so, and he looked much like any other daemon that Constantine had met in the past eighteen years. But the makara was not, in fact, anything like the other daemons that the percurian was acquainted with, and that was why the young prince’s eyes were riveted to their new visitor as he was formally introduced. His skin was a pale green color, his over-large eyes a shade darker with oddly shaped elliptical pupils, and his short black hair barely covered his small and sharply pointed ears. There were glittering scales in place of his eyebrows, their near metallic nature catching the light and reflecting it back when he turned just so, and they also ran along the top of his forehead and down the sides of his neck. The backs of his hands seemed to be peppered with the little glittering scales as well, and Constantine had the sudden urge to ask him where else he was decorated, even if it would have most certainly insulted their guest. Only his study of the delicate webbing that was spun between the man’s long and tapered fingers distracted the prince sufficiently from voicing his question. Sammir Burvaraz the makara was, he decided, a most fascinating daemon indeed.

“You majesty, King Cristopher of Trovilla,” Sammir said with a low bow to the king, who sat on a raised platform in a gilt throne beside his family, “it is a true pleasure to be in your presence. I thank you for the honor of an audience. And, before I go on, I must admit that aside from my more official business, I have long desired to see the beauty of Trovilla with my own eyes. You have granted me that gift as well and I will be forever grateful.”

Cristopher nodded, waiting for the man to go on. He’d seen his type before, this Sammir Olcandan Burvaraz, and he knew that the man would have much to say. And little, if any of it, would be of great importance. He was nothing more than a mouthpiece sent in his lord’s place to flatter the king of Trovilla in order to gain something that Paaragora desired. Sometimes the young king truly despised the trappings of kingship.

“Queen Tabitha,” he bowed to the young blonde woman who sat next to Cristopher, her throne only slightly less grand but on an equal level to the king. The queen’s throne had once sat below the king’s, proof of subservience, but Cristopher had moved it the day after he had become king. The two daemons truly believed in equality in all things. “You are even more stunning than I had heard. It is a lucky man indeed to find a queen who is both beautiful and intelligent. King Cristopher chose well, and Trovilla is all the better for it, surely.”

Tabitha giggled politely but said nothing, a hand held coquettishly before her lips for effect. It had become her way, as of late, of covering when she wanted to say something but knew better than to speak. Cristopher wasn’t the only one who didn’t have a taste for formality.

“And, Princes Blaise and Constantine,” the two men sat on their thrones on a dais just below the king’s, waiting for the introductions to be over with. Blaise was left to once again wonder silently, all but ignoring their guest, if he would ever get used to life as a prince. Then he looked to his right and saw the barely restrained signs of annoyance on his brother-in-law’s face. That was when he knew, instantly, that he had no hope of such a thing. His sigh of disappointment did not go unnoticed, and the upturn of Cristopher’s lips told him that at least one man in the room understood. It did little to lift his spirits, however. “I am truly blessed to have been gifted with the presence of so much nobility. I, and my nation, will be forever in your debts.”

“We haven’t done anything but show up so far,” Cristopher leaned close to his wife and did his best to keep his voice low, although in all truth he did not really care if he was overheard, “How much ass-kissing is he going to do if we actually give him what he’s come for?”

This time Tabitha’s laugh was real, and not just for show. It worked well at masking the sound that came from behind them, where Liam stood at attention. From anyone else Cristopher might have called it a snort. But Liam, ever the proud terkarian warrior, loyal captain of the royal guard, did not snort. Or so he would surely claim.

“It has been a very long time since Trovilla has heard from your island,” Cristopher thought it best to cut the man off before he could deliver any more complements. He reminded Cristopher far too much of Nigel and Alfridi, his father’s recently self-exiled twin advisors, and he did not have a single memory associated with the two that was even remotely pleasant. He knew that it was not behavior befitting his position, and he would probably hear it from someone, most likely his wife, later, but he didn’t care. He wanted their business concluded as quickly as possible. “We were once friends, Trovilla and Paaragora, but that was many decades ago. I was a child the last time that a makara was welcomed in our kingdom. What has prompted your Lord Tournkin to seek us out so suddenly?”

“Ah,” Sammir seemed taken aback for only a moment, quickly cloaking himself in the mantel of his position and answering the king with a measured smile on his face. “A man who is honest and to the point. That is a rare quality in the circles in which we both travel, a fact that I’m certain you are very aware of, and I must say that it is much appreciated. It makes dealings go so much more smoothly, Majesty.”

None of the assembled royals believed, even for an instant, that Sammir spoke the truth. They each suspected that the court that he came from was filled with flowery words and double-talk, a place where it took an age to say what should have been said in a sentence. It wasn’t the sort of place where King Cristopher or his family would fit in, although memories lingered of a time when they’d had no choice in the matter, and that such a time was long past made each daemon grateful beyond words.

“Feel free to return the favor,” Tabitha said, an innocent smile on her beautiful face, her voice teasing but very nearly malicious. She was a mirqurian, a water witch, and she had been excited to hear that a kinsman was coming to the castle. She had since changed her mind. It was not just the princes and their king who had foul memories of such double-talkers.

“Yes, well…” Sammir was not used to women speaking to him like that, queen or no. In Paaragora the High Lord would never have allowed his wives to speak to any man with such a tone, and it shook his normally iron resolve. His next words held a hint of uncertainty as a result. “I come bearing tidings of friendship from our High Lord.”

“And you may return with the same,” Cristopher reminded himself not to be rude. He was a new king and needed all of the allies that he could gather to cement his kingdom’s place in the realm. It was not Sammir Burvaraz’s fault that he stirred up old memories. “Paaragora was once a valuable ally, and I hope that such can be true again.”

“Lord Tournkin regrets that he was unable to attend your coronation,” Sammir relaxed when Cristopher turned a kind smile upon him. He didn’t understand why, but he had not received the welcome that he was accustomed to, although it seemed that that was changing rather quickly. It was not that anyone had been unkind to him, or overtly hostile, but he got the distinct impression that this was a court that was not at all like his own. And that, more than anything, made him long for his island home. There, at least, he knew how to handle himself and those around him. “It was far too sudden, the change in leadership, and our lord was not entirely certain that his presence would be a welcomed one. He hopes to remedy any perceived slights with my arrival.”

“I took no offense, you have my word.”

“And, am I to take it that you also find no offense in my presence?”

“None.” Sammir wasn’t certain that such was true, but he let it pass without comment.

“I hope that the same holds true once I have delivered to you my king’s offer.”

“Offer?” Cristopher’s curiosity was piqued now. The kingdom, for the most part, had taken the change in rulers well. There were a few tribes and holdings in the areas furthest from the castle that still thought to challenge the young king however. New allies who were closer to the far-lying providences might not be a bad thing to have.

“Our lord would like to reopen trade with Trovilla, as it once was.”

“That would be most welcomed,” Cristopher said honestly, trying to keep the excitement out of his voice. An ally would be appreciated, but the rare minerals that Paaragora offered would be even more valuable. “It has been a long time since this kingdom has seen novariam and torborna.”

“Not to mention Bartarian black tea,” Blaise spoke up for the first time since entering the room. He had tasted the rare blend once while on a mission near the island nation, and ever since he had craved it. But, since it was only to be found in and near Paaragora, even the best-laid connections in the black market could not find him the leaves needed for the tea often, so far-reaching was King Samuel’s ban on outside imports.

“I actually brought some of the blend with me, m’lord, and I would be more than happy to share it with you,” Sammir stood a bit straighter, head held a little higher, seeing an opening that he had been looking for since he had entered the audience chamber. His lord had sent him with a specific goal in mind and, aside from reopening trade and gaining their island wealth and prestige, he wanted his aid to convince the king to accept from them a very special offering. An offering that he had little use for any longer. “Although, I must tell you, I come barring gifts far more important than any tea.”

“Gifts?” Constantine piped up, excited by the prospect of anything that had once been banned.

“Yes,” Sammir promised him, “A very special gift. One so precious that my lord thought it best to ask your king’s permission before presenting it to you. If King Cristopher is so gracious as to accept our offer of friendship then I shall return home and make arrangements straight away for our offering to be sent to you. It will be a physical representation of our renewed bonds.”

“And what would this precious gift be?” Cristopher wasn’t certain that he wanted to know. Something about Sammir’s behavior made him nervous, and not just because of the man’s uncanny resemblance to ghosts long past.

“The great Lord Tournkin would like to present you with,” Sammir paused, enjoying the way that four pairs of daemon eyes, royalty all, turned towards him with undivided attention, “his son, Jasim.”

TBC ...