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

Author's Notes: I hope you guys are enjoying this fic so far, and that I didn't scare anybody off with the author's note on the first chapter about the ambiguos future of the whole thing. But, I wanted you all to get to meet Jasim, so I felt the need to post this chapter. Just keep in mind that this is, esentally, a rough draft. Either way, let me know what you think?

Review Responses:

Jewel:
Wow! I can't tell you how happy I am to see that you are starting a sequel to percieved perceptions. I like where you are going with this and I just read all 5 chapters. I feel for Liam it seems that he is missing a love of his own. Will Jasim be able to fill the emptiness in his heart. I also wonder if he is being sent to the new King to ensure the alliance or if he is being planted as a spy? I can't help but question Paaragora's true intentions. But I hope he will be someone that Liam can love and be happy with. Please update soon I am really interested to know what will happen next. I just love reading all of your stories and I always check this site for new ones. Good luck with getting Percieved published. oh if only Hollywood would make a movie like this, how much fun would that be (he he)I really do enjoy your work.

Thanks for the encouragment! Glad you've enjoyed it so far, and I hope that this chapter is good for you as well. I think that Jasim's entrance is sure to leave a lasting impression *LOL*

Kuromei:
I'm loving this sequel! XD *hearts* I want to know more about Liam's past. And this Jasim kid. Will he be the one to give Liam the love he craves? Or will he be a giant pain-in-the-neck? Perhaps both...

Anywho! Great work, as always! ^w^

I'll fill everybody in on Liam's past, I promise. In fact, the title should make more sense once you see where I'm going with this. As for what Jasim will mean to him? I think you're right by putting him in the both category.

Second Sight

Chapter Six: One, Two, Three

The island of Paaragora rose up out of the sea, great and shinning, glistening in the sun, visible from land for miles around. Paaragora was renowned for its beauty because of its unique structures created from a rare mineral found nowhere else in the realm, magick and craftsmanship creating magnificent spiraling buildings that reached skyward, reflecting light and casting rainbows across the sea and back to land. Even the simplest shop or the poorest home was a work of art, separating the island from land by more than just the sea, a constant source of pride for those who lived there. They all looked deceptively fragile, delicate as spun glass, but the castle that stood at the center of the island had housed the nation’s rulers for as long as memory could recall and would most likely stand long after any who saw it had turned to dust. The island was no bigger than some of the small towns that peppered the lands around Trovilla’s own royal castle, populated by perhaps ten thousand daemons at best, but it had long been considered one of the great jewels of the first daemon realm.

It had taken Liam nine days to make the journey from Trovilla to Paaragora, two of those spent holed up in a cave when the fall storms had come on, sudden and fierce, preventing travel. He might have had an easier time had he taken the main roads and stopped at an inn in one of the small villages that catered to travelers, even if it would have added days to his trip, but in truth he had enjoyed even the harsher portions of his journey. Terkarians were wild daemons at heart and there had been something cleansing about braving the elements alone, something rejuvenating, and he was glad for the opportunity to collect his thoughts and think in peace. He was actually smiling by the time that he emerged from the Krilly Forests and ventured on to the sands of the Borta Coast. Then he saw the welcoming committee from Paaragora, one face among them regrettably familiar, and all of the tension returned instantly to his broad shoulders.

“Welcome to Paaragora, my friend,” Liam had hoped never to see Sammir Burvaraz again, but there he stood, surrounded by half a dozen other daemons, smiling widely and waving in greeting as Liam slowed his horse and approached the edge of the sea. However, considering that Sammir was the high lord’s advisor, Liam had known that his dream had been unattainable from the beginning, so he tried his best to school his face and control himself. He would only be a few days in Paaragora, after all. “You have made it here safely, I see. And alone, at that. The men of Trovilla must be truly brave people indeed. I hope that your journey was at least a pleasant one?”

“It was,” the bite that his words held were either completely missed by his welcoming party, or Sammir was ignoring him. Liam didn’t really care which. He wasn’t in Paaragora to make friends. Such things could be left to those better equipped for such a thing.

“Master Liam, was it not?” Sammir feigned ignorance even though Liam knew, for a fact, that he was well aware of who was being sent to fetch Lord Tournkin’s gift. Liam refused to rise to the bait, however. He could tell that the other daemon looked down upon him, considered the aid to a high lord the better of the captain of a foreign nation’s royal guard, but he paid the sleight no mind. The ill opinion was, in fact, a mutual feeling. He thought that Sammir was probably just sore about the way that things had gone when last they had met, so if the man wanted to be petty Liam would not fault him for it. He had expected no less in fact.

“Sammir,” the look of utter indignation that came briefly across the high lord’s advisor’s face at the familiar address did much to raise Liam’s spirits, and he suddenly felt more than a little playful, his earlier self-promises to control himself set by the wayside for the moment. He had not thought the politician such easy prey, and he thought suddenly that perhaps the visit to Paaragora would not be entirely unbearable after all. “Lord Tournkin needn’t have sent you out to fetch me. The men of Trovilla, while brave, are also more than capable of rowing a boat,” Liam just couldn’t help himself as he looked at the half-dozen or so men and then to the three boats that skirted the shore, “Alone, at that.”

“Yes, well,” Sammir did not like the way that Liam looked at him. Or, more precisely, looked down at him. He was not used to lesser men taking such a superior attitude with him, mocking him openly, and it unnerved him. He covered his unease with a grand wave of his hand, thinking to himself that once they were upon the island behind them he would be on his own land again, and that the guard before him would learn his place once that occurred. None would dare challenge Sammir Olcandan Burvaraz when he was in his element. “The exquisite beauty of Paaragora awaits us all. We should be off.”

Sammir turned on his heal, head held high and nose in the air, and walked towards the first of the boats. He trusted his men to follow. Liam, he knew, would have no choice. It brought a smile to his thin lips. This was his territory, and he would not be looked down upon by a mere guard, no matter if he currently spoke for a king.

Liam sighed as Sammir and his men climbed into the small boats that sat at the water’s edge. As fun as it was to tease the up-tight daemon, and despite the fact that he had volunteered for this mission, he was loath to join them for the journey across the sea. He removed a small pack from his mount at a leisurely pace and then handed his horse over to the young man standing beside a small stable that was used for those who were traveling from the island and back again, giving him a few instructions while petting the beast fondly, slinging the pack over his shoulder effortlessly when he was sure that his orders would be obeyed. He followed after the Paaragorians only when he had no choice, no excuses left to delay him. Sammir was already looking back at him expectantly, one scaly brow raised at his hesitance, giving the air of a very busy man who had little patience left for dawdling. Liam wished that he could smack that superior look off of the man’s face, but Cristopher had made him promise not to cause any international incidents that he would later have to remedy, and so Liam controlled himself. Barely. He could already tell that it was going to be a very long day.

***
Paaragora was not a monarchy. Although, looking up at the seat of their government, huge gold-embossed double doors flanked by sharply dressed soldiers, crystalline towers spiraling up towards the sky, one would never have guessed. It might not bear the name or title, but it certainly looked like a royal palace to Liam. Even the annoying little wasp that was constantly buzzing at his side reminded him of royalty, of courts filled with pompous men and petty plays for power, of flash and glamour designed to hide decay. With the exception of Cristopher and the current Trovillan royal family Liam had grown tired of such aristocrats long ago. And for good reason.

“Lord Tournkin will see you personally,” Sammir said, as though Liam should be humbled by the gracious gift that he was being granted by being allowed to bask in their high lord’s glory, to see the man with his own eyes. If he was anything like his advisor, anything like he remembered so many years ago, Liam doubted that he would be impressed by such an honor. He’d seen true nobility, laid eyes upon a king who needed no crown to call himself such, and everything else paled in comparison. “If you would just follow me? A servant will see that your bags are placed in your rooms for you.”

Liam handed over his bag to a petite blue girl who refused to meet his eyes, a pang of guilt filling his gut when he saw her falter for a moment under the weight of his pack. He thought of offering assistance, but within seconds she had recovered as though she had never wavered, heading off down a corridor with a curtsey, steps quick and silent.

“This way,” Sammir said over his shoulder, already well on his way, and for the second time that day Liam was forced to follow or be left behind. He was already contemplating leaving that very night, the high lord’s rescued son in tow, taking the dubious comforts of the forest over Paaragorian hospitality. Something about them simply rubbed him the wrong way. Or perhaps it was just the abundance of makara, which he thankfully had not seen in many a moon, that was making him uneasy. If that was the case, and if arzu blood was not strong enough, then he wondered how he was going to manage the journey back with the boy in hand.

“We have had some difficulties, as of late, over a recent tax increase,” why Sammir felt the need to fill the silence with incessant chatter was beyond Liam. He would have been completely content to walk the hallways without a word between them. He did his best to ignore the man, however, and for a time he looked about him. But the look in the eyes of the servants that they passed, the way that they cringed when Sammir noticed them, reminded him too much of days not so very long past, and so he eventually decided on looking ahead and staring at nothing in particular. Paaragora, it seemed, simply did not what to let his mind rest. It was a place of memories, even if it was his first time setting foot upon the island. Sammir’s voice was but a whisper in the face of such an assault. “My lord, of course, has already dealt with the problem. You did not enter through the front gates, or you would have seen evidence enough of that. Should the presence of the carrion birds draw your attention later on I am certain that you need only to pay a visit to that particular area. His garden, Lord Tournkin is fond of calling it. But, even with such things taken care of, he is still a very busy man. I doubt that he will have much time to talk to you.”

The journey to the high lord’s audience chamber was a short one, and it was with a sigh of relief on Liam’s part that Sammir left him to the care of the guard at the door, entering his master’s domain alone, seemingly to announce him. Liam found it far too difficult to control his temper around the man, and the more he spoke the worse it became, so he was thankful for even the smallest of respites. Then the doors were opened to him and Liam had no further time to spare Sammir a thought.

“May I introduce the High Lord of Paaragora, Lord Kasper Tournkin,” Sammir bowed low, arm extended towards his master, a solemn look upon his pale green face, “M’lord, Liam, Captain of King Cristopher’s royal guard, messenger of the kingdom of Trovilla.”

The high lord was everything that was expected of a well-bred makara. His skin was the deep green of fresh kelp, the long hair held back from his aristocratic features a green so pale that it was almost white, dark eyes with elliptical pupils taking in everything around him with a critical gaze. Glittering rainbow scales graced the top of a high brow, the edges of high, sunken cheekbones, and the graceful column of his long neck. White nails tipped with razor sharp claws tapped rhythmically on the arm of his throne, although if he were not a king then perhaps it wasn’t really a throne at all, webbing moving like a wave between his fingers as he moved. In the decades that had passed since last Liam had set eyes upon him, not a thing had changed, and for that he was disappointed. Even the ever present and barely concealed sneer was just as it had been decades ago.

“Liam,” his voice, as always, held an affected air of boredom, “It is good to see you again. I am glad to see that you survived the change that your country has recently been through with your standing still in tact.”

“Loyalty has seen me through,” Liam answered. “I see that you have not had such cause to worry, Lord Tournkin. You seem as secure in your throne as ever.”

“What can I say,” Lord Tournkin smirked, one scaly brow arched high in amusement, “my people love me.”

“More importantly,” Liam had almost forgotten that Sammir was in the room, but then he laughed and the terkarian could not keep up the pleasant illusion any longer, “his sons love him. Your King Samuel might have fared better had such been true for him as well.”

“Perhaps,” was all of the response that Liam would give.

“I was most pleased to hear that Trovilla had accepted my offer of friendship,” Lord Tournkin was reminded that Liam had been no fun to play word-games with back when they had first met, and it seemed than such had not changed in the intervening years. He decided that it was best simply to get on with the business at hand. He was, after all, a very busy man. “And our most precious gift as well.”

“My king was touched by your offering.”

“As would be expected,” Lord Tournkin nodded once in agreement before rising off of his throne with one fluid movement. Liam had forgotten how graceful makara were, and he smiled bitterly as memory assaulted him, not for the first time that day. They moved like the water that they were so very fond of, graceful and elegant, a silent force of nature made flesh. Makara, no matter what else could be said about the men whose company he currently shared, were truly remarkable daemons. He was certain that Constantine would be thrilled once he finally got to meet one up close. “He is a truly astounding boy. Your kingdom will be all the better for his presence.”

Then why part with him? Liam thought to himself, why gift your own son to strangers as though he were chattel? He had thought very little of Lord Tournkin when they had met decades ago, but recent events had brought his opinion even lower. He thought of his own Constantine, so sweet and delicate, such easy prey once to those who would do him harm, and wondered how anyone could think of making a gift of any young daemon to a foreign land when his fate would be so uncertain. Even the late King Samuel would never have been so cruel, and he had been a monster. But Liam kept his thoughts to himself for the sake of that faceless boy whom he had yet to meet. So much darkness and evil could have befallen the boy had Sammir not been sent to Trovilla first, and Liam was intent on rescuing the poor child, no matter the cost to his sanity. If he had to hold his tongue and grind his teeth, keeping his true thoughts close to his person, then he would do so. In a few days they would both be free of such men and Paaragora would be but a memory. He had endured decades with King Samuel, a few days of Lord Tournkin and his advisors would be child’s play in comparison.

“Speaking of which,” Lord Tournkin looked around expectantly until a small mud-colored daemon in a gauzy coat of azure fabric scampered up to him and knelt at his feet. His voice suddenly became a mixture of wariness and anger, a long-suffering sigh escaping his lips before he could control himself. “Where is he?”

The man at his feet looked up at Lord Tournkin expectantly, his eyes silently pleading for something, although Liam knew not what. A look passed between them before Lord Tournkin sighed once again and waved impatiently at the man. He rose and leaned close to his master, who was forced to bend at the waist to get close enough to hear the much shorter man, and a few hurried whispers passed between them before Lord Tournkin once again straightened up and started for the doors with long strides and a sense of fury filled urgency.

“Follow me,” he growled, and for once Liam was happy to comply. He was confused, and not the least bit curious, although a lesser man might have faltered in the face of such anger. He, however, wanted to see where the normally composed makara was off to in such a hurry.

Liam didn’t have long to wonder where they were going, and within minutes they were all stopped outside of a thick door covered in carvings of mermaids frolicking with various creatures of the sea, Liam, Sammir, and two of the high lord’s guards paused behind Lord Tournkin. Coal black eyes all but blazed with an inner fire, harsh breath audible, as Lord Tournkin glared at the door as though he could see through it to what went on inside.

Liam was about to ask if they were going in, willing to risk the high lord’s wrath, when another of his earthen-hued servants passed by them. The unfortunate daemon was grabbed by his collar before he even had the chance to realize what danger he was in, Lord Tournkin bringing the smaller man to eye level with little concern for the way that it left the other’s feet dangling off of the ground.

“Is he in there,” the words were pushed out through harshly gritted teeth, his free hand pointing accusingly back towards the door behind them and the room concealed within.

“M’lord?” the question was more a squeak than a word, fear wafting off of the dangling servant in waves. “Who-“

A sound from within the room beyond the beautiful door caught everyone’s attention, and Lord Tournkin flung his captive away in favor of once again glaring at the door. “Nevermind.”

The door was pushed open, the heavy wood slamming back against the wall, the sound echoing all the way down the hallway. Their party followed Lord Tournkin closely as he stalked through the outer room, past tasteful but nondescript furnishings that marked the room as living quarters, and up to the open door of what was certainly a bedroom. Then he stopped, the fierce aura around him becoming even darker, and Liam and the others were forced to circle around him in order to get a good look at what had caught his attention. When he finally saw what was going on inside of the bedroom Liam’s eyes widened almost painfully, although he held his tongue, mostly because he could think of nothing to say. What was going on in the room was the last thing that he had ever expected to see.

The space of the room was taken up, for the most part, by a huge circular bed that sat in the middle of the room. The sheets were pure white, matching the stark décor of the room, easily drawing the eye to the bed. Not that there was much to look at in that moment that would best the view on the bed anyway. There were three figures on the bed, two of them large, muscular men, one with pale teal skin and long black hair, the other almost identical but slightly darker with shorter hair. Spitted between them was a smaller male, sea green skin glistening with sweat, bright blue hair mussed and tangled, his mouth occupied with the paler daemon’s manhood, lower body connected to the darker of the two in the most intimate of ways.

When the outer door had slammed against the wall all three men had frozen, but once Lord Tournkin stood looming in the open entrance of the bedroom the darker of the two muscular daemons gasped in frightened surprise, pushing away from his partners and scrambling off of the bed, eyes never leaving the high lord of Paaragora. The other daemons were not as quick to move, the larger of the two still on the bed seemingly in shock, dark eyes wide and locked on the man in the doorway, body unable to move.

“Guards?” Sammir broke the silence, voice a mixture of exasperation and a decided lack of surprise, “Again?”

The smallest of the trio was the only one who seemed unaffected by Lord Tournkin’s sudden appearance, head bobbing a few more times before pulling back with an audible pop, obviously enjoying the bit of flesh between his lips despite his audience. Or because of it, perhaps. He moved at his own pace as he turned his head at last to look at the assembly of daemons in the doorway, stretching his body sinuously, a low moan escaping him as he worked the muscles in his back into an arch that displayed rather than hid his nude form. Then, once he was certain that he had the undivided attention of his audience he licked his lips, slowly and sensuously, a hum of contentment reaching the ears of all present. He fixed Lord Tournkin with eyes alight with mischief and challenge, smirking at the growl that he received, holding the high lord’s gaze even though the two larger men seemed to be cowering before him with fear.

But it was not the situation that they had found the boy in that shocked Liam the most, although that was certainly unexpected. No, it was his face that had Liam frozen in place, heart pounding and breath caught in this throat. It was the face of a ghost.

TBC ...