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 Three: Gift-wrapped

“I’m sorry,” Cristopher said after a long pause, speaking carefully so that he was certain to be understood, “I must have misheard you. I thought that you said that Lord Tournkin wanted to give me his son.”

“There was no misunderstanding, m’lord.”

“Ah,” Cristopher felt uneasy, but he tried to cover it with a chuckle. “I see. The makara must have a different meaning for the word son than we percurians do.”

“No, sire,” Sammir assured him, not yet understanding where the problem might lie. “I speak of Lord Tournkin’s third born son, Jasim Tournkin. The boy is only a half-breed, being born of an arzu mother I am sorry to say, but that will make him most useful to you.”

“It will?” Cristopher was so stunned that he couldn’t even argue with what the man was saying. He had expected a traditional offering of jewels or gold, perhaps the sought after minerals that Paaragora was famous for, but a living sacrifice was the last thing that he had wanted.

“Yes,” Sammir mistook Cristopher’s question for interest and pressed on excitedly with a wide smile on his pale green face. “The mixture of makara and arzu blood has produced in the child a very powerful empath. His father has found him most useful in interrogating prisoners and liars in the past.”

“We don’t currently have any prisoners,” Tabitha provided, more than a little disgusted by the absent Lord Tournkin. The royal family of Trovilla knew a thing or two about the cruelty that a father could perpetrate upon his sons, but even the late King Samuel had never sought to give his children away to foreign nations as political bargaining chips. Tabitha had never thought that she would find a day when she would see the old king as the lesser of two evils in any situation.

“Well,” Sammir was undeterred, and he pressed on without pause, “I’m certain that your majesty will find other uses for him. He is a dreamseer, although those skills are still somewhat unreliable. With time I’m certain that such will change, however. He is still young, after all. They also tell me that he is a wonderful musician. His voice is said to be quite lovely. And…”

“And?” Cristopher wanted to know how far Sammir would go, although he knew that what he was about to hear would not please him. It was already taking all his self control to keep himself seated, to keep from forcibly removing the Paaragorian messenger from his presence with his own hands, and he wondered if the next words would not be the ones to snap that hard-won control and send him down from the dais.

“And,” Sammir did not understand what danger he was walking in to. He had spent too much time with his lord and men like him, “although I am certain that the lovely Queen Tabitha fulfills her duties as a wife most admirably, I am sure that there are times when she finds such things taxing, as all women are wont to do. My lord assures me that his son can fill such needs as the queen does not wish to.”

Cristopher did not answer. He could not. It was Liam who had to speak up, a growl coloring his words as he picked up on his king’s distress. Sammir Olcandan Burvaraz had won no friends this day, and neither had his lord. “I would suggest that you return to your rooms. Now.”

“If m’lord does not like boys,” Sammir was worried only slightly by Liam’s tone. He was but a guard, after all, and even if he was the captain of the royal guard he was still only a servant. The king had not yet said that he was displeased. Sammir took it as a good sign, as he would have while at court on his own island, and did his best to ignore the plum colored eyes that watched him intently as they flickered between purple and red. “Then I am certain that your fair brother might enjoy his charms. He would not think to argue if shared between two princes. In fact, he would be honored.”

“Now,” Liam repeated, his voice gone gravely, so low that Sammir barely heard him over the rumbling growl.

Sammir opened his mouth to argue being ordered around by a guard, someone that he viewed as inferior to a high lord’s personal advisor, but something in the terkarian’s dark eyes, something dangerous and foreboding, told him that such would not be wise. He had somehow gone too far. The looks from the other daemons in the room, men and women that he could claim no superior rank over, alerted him to the fact that no one assembled would stop the terkarian from carrying out his unspoken threats. In fact, if he was reading the man correctly, he thought that Prince Blaise might assist him.

Sammir was not sure why the king was suddenly so upset with him, he knew many a lord who would have gladly accepted such an offer from Lord Tournkin, but he thought it the most prudent thing to take Liam’s advice and leave. He only prayed that he had not somehow misspoken so drastically that he had ruined any chance of negotiations between Trovilla and Paaragora. If so, he knew that he would be better off in Liam’s hands than to face his lord with news of failure.

“I thank you for the audience,” Sammir tried to act as though all was well, even managing a shaky smile as he bowed low, although he kept one eye on Liam at all times. The terkarian had not stopped growling at him for even a second. “And I take my leave, King Cristopher. Queen Tabitha. My honored princes. Good evening.”

***
“He did offer me what I thought that he did,” Cristopher could not even summon the strength to sound angry. He felt sick. “Didn’t he?”

“Lord Tournkin just gave you his kid as a bed warmer,” Tabitha offered, as though there had been any doubt between them. She had an urge to track Sammir Burvaraz down the hallway and back to his rooms, or wherever he had slunk off to, and take out some of the anger that was boiling up within her on the visiting makara. Although she strongly suspected that she would have to fight Liam for the honor first.

“I think we’re all agreed,” Blaise said, every bit as disgusted as Cristopher. He reached a hand across the small distance that separated his throne from Constantine’s, taking hold of his pratetto’s hand and squeezing, knowing that there were reasons that Constantine was silent. Of all of the daemons in the royal family, he had perhaps been misused the most by his own father, and his own tale most closely resembled what had just happened. He thought that his mate must surely be feeling the pain of the young noble on his far off island. “We don’t need that sick fucker and his damn island. Right?”

Cristopher wanted to agree, but the mantel that he wore, the crown upon his head, held his tongue. Although, truth be told, he had other reasons as well to remain silent. He hoped that the others would understand. “Wrong. We do need them.”

“What?!” Blaise and Liam echoed as one. “Why?”

“I can not afford to make enemies with my hold on the kingdom still so weak. Most of the people are happy to see me in power, but not all,” he admitted with a sigh, “And Paaragora holds great geographical significance. If we could count on them to monitor the southernmost providences then I would sleep well at night. The tribes of the south are our greatest problem at the moment.”

“But-“

“And, although you’re too young to remember it,” Cristopher spoke to his brother, not liking the far away look in his green-gold eyes. He’d always suspected that his father’s cruelties towards his sibling had run far deeper than his brother had ever told him, and he worried that talk of Lord Tournkin and the mishandling of his son might have brought up painful memories. It was yet another reason to curse Sammir the messenger. “Tournkin came to the castle once when I was young, right before Paaragora was cut off from us, and I met him and his oldest son.”

“As did I,” Liam offered, remembering the two well. He had not liked them then and he did not like them now, even as they sat in an island stronghold far away.

“Lord Tournkin was a mean bastard who got on remarkably well with Father,” he’d always wondered what it was that had broken the bond between the two rulers. Now, he suspected that he would never know. His father was dead and he would be damned if he would give Lord Tournkin a personal audience, even if he did seek to foster a relationship between their two nations. Proxies and messengers would do well enough. “He was always sneering and looking down on everyone, except when he was watching the serving boys and the maids, and then his dark little eyes would light up and he’d smile like a serpent who’s spotted prey.”

“His son was not much better,” Liam said, “The brat thought that he was a king who was entitled never to heard the word no. What I wouldn’t have given to have been allowed to smack the child upside the head, even once,” the idea brought a brief smile to his lips, even so many years later, but it quickly died, “But King Samuel forbade it.”

“All the more reason not to have any dealings with them,” Blaise argued.

“No,” Constantine finally spoke up, “If we do that, then they’ll just offer the boy to someone else.”

“That’s exactly what I was thinking,” Tabitha said, her husband nodding beside her. There were many reasons why Tabitha was his queen.

“For years I wished that someone would come along and rescue me,” Constantine looked to Blaise and then down to their still joined hands, realizing that someone had come along to save him, even if he had not been the man to ultimately deal with his father. He didn’t need rescuing anymore, but he could remember a time when he too had been presented as a prize, and the memories of the fear that such a thing had inspired in him would take many an age to fade, if they ever did. Now he was no longer that helpless princess in need of a savior, but someone else was, and he was finally in a position to help. “I’m sure that he must feel the same, trapped with a father like that, being used like this. We need to help him. And, if that can also create a bond with a valuable ally, then more’s the better.”

“Seems the queen’s not the only one who’s beautiful and brilliant,” Blaise was proud of his mate. He was thinking like a prince and remaining true to his own heart. It was one of the qualities that he loved about the charming percurian. One of many.

“I don’t feel right about accepting a person as a gift,” Cristopher sighed, “but it’s the best thing for all concerned.”

“Do I have to be here when you tell him,” Blaise wouldn’t even say Sammir’s name. “I don’t think that I’ll be able to control myself around him if the bastard starts complementing you on your wise choices. I might just do something that you’ll regret.”

“Noted,” Cristopher said, knowing that his brother-in-law spoke the truth. He didn’t find him at fault either. Cristopher only wished that he could avoid the conversation with Paaragora’s proxy as well. He was certain that Sammir would grin while bowing and scraping, knowing full well that he had just given away his high lord’s child to an uncertain future, and the thought turned the king’s stomach.

“Will it be safe?” Tabitha wondered, her sharp mind thinking of practicality now that the decision had been made. “The southern tribes have been causing trouble for envoys as of late. If they find out that he’s meant to be a gift for you, regardless of what you’re planning to do with him, then they’re sure to try to stop him.”

“If they’re treating him like this,” Blaise agreed with the queen, “then I doubt that Paaragora is going to do much to ensure his safety. Hells, they’ll probably send him alone.”

“We’ll have to send someone.”

“I’ll go.” All eyes turned towards Liam. He’d been silent since Sammir had left, but now he had the undivided attention of the entire royal family. A lesser man might have faltered under such scrutiny.

“I need to go,” he said. He did not provide any further explanation. The terkarian could not find it within himself to tell them that the makara’s appearance in the castle had brought up more ghosts than he could stand, or that he had some experience where rescuing makara youth was concerned, or even that he desperately needed the time alone that he would have on the journey to Paaragora, no matter how close he was to his audience. He had forgotten how to share such pains a long time ago. His own blood and a lone makara had seen to that.

“Liam,” Cristopher had known Liam almost all of his life. He’d been eleven years old when the terkarian had first appeared in their lands, and he’d never been far from the older man a day since, although he still did not know the whole story of what had brought the warrior to them. Something in those familiar eyes, the rigid set of his shoulders even though their audience was gone, told Cristopher that something was wrong. Very wrong. But Liam had always been able to hide what he needed to, even from those closest to him, and if he wasn’t talking then there was little point in pushing the issue. No matter what it might say about him, no matter if anyone else would have pursued the conversation until he’d been given answers, Cristopher gave up before the fight had even begun. It was, it seemed, all that he could do for his friend. “Is Balint ready to take command in your absence?”

“He may have been denied power by your father,” Liam assured him with a smile, silently thanking his friend for understanding and not questioning him, “but it was not from lack of skill or ability. I would not trust him with what is most precious to me if I did not believe in him.”

“Then I guess that you’ll get to see the sea again before I do,” Tabitha joked. She had picked up on Liam’s odd mood as well, but if Cristopher was not mentioning it, then she would not either. Most who knew her might consider her a wild card but, contrary to popular belief, she could follow her husband’s lead when need be. Besides, she thought that the time away might do the recently morose daemon some good as well. The beauty of the sea had a way of changing one’s mood for the better.

“Thank you,” Liam did something that he rarely did in private; he bowed to his king, thanking him for more things than they would ever acknowledge. “I’ll begin preparations right away. Within the week I’ll head for Paaragora.”

“You’re not traveling with Sammir are you?” Blaise wondered. He knew that the man had an iron-will, but the former mercenary knew for a fact that he couldn’t have stood to travel with the double-talking advisor, and he strongly suspected that Liam could not either.

“Of course not,” Liam shuddered at the very thought. If he were forced to travel with Sammir then Liam was more than certain that one of them would not reach Paaragora alive. The question of which of them would find an early grave was a given in his mind, of course. “Were you under the mistaken impression that I am a masochist simply because I surround myself with sickeningly adorable newlyweds?”

The laugher from the five daemons was real, even if it did cover for ill feelings all around. The sudden offer of friendship from Paaragora was either a blessing or a curse. Their gift, and the mission to retrieve it, was either a solution or a mistake. Only time and a trip across the sea could ultimately tell them which.

TBC ...