For Lord and Land

For Lord and Land
By: Delilah deSora
Part 2
Chapter 1

**

Well . . . today is my first day as the Emperor\'s Leviathan. I must admit, I am frightened. What will he require of me? What am I supposed to do? Will he like me? Will he be kind or will he be cruel?

So many questions about my new fate dance about in my head and yet . . . and yet I cannot stop thinking about my home. They tell me that I must no longer think about it, that there is nothing to connect me to what used to be my home but . . . how can I forget?

How does one put aside an entire lifetime?

-Priorden Llyr
Emperor\'s Leviathan
year 1036

**


Long strides ate the distance between stone walls as soft slippers hissed against each other with every stride. Golden leviathans dipped and danced in a rolling ocean of silk moving one this way and that only to all surface all at once as the pacer whirled and retraced his angry steps.

Black hair was pulled back tightly, secured by aden den clasp that sparkled with the blue gems that came only from earth found in the northern lands. The same gems sparkled in his ears and the necklace about his neck. They matched blue eyes gone dark with emotion and the highlights thrown by the ebony mane.

Anger gave way to seething when the pacer found himself short of breath and was forced to drop down in the chair at the ancient desk. Even the soft cushions that allowed him to sink sinfully deephin hin the chair and floated him in a sea of comfort annoyed him.

Soft fabrics, soft bed, soft chair, soft body.

Hell, Dante growled to himself as he glared about his own private kingdom, even the food he was fed was soft. He was drowning in a pool of luxury that was threatening to turn him into something just as weak as his surroundings.

He rubbed his hands over his face, frowning at the smoothness of the skin. Pulling them away he peered at the pale flesh. He couldn’t even make out where old familiar calluses used to be. He knew that if he lifted a sword now his flesh would tear and bleed as it had done when he had been a young boy learning to fight with a child’s sword. He’d cried then, running to his father’s arms and showing him his abused hands. His father had only smiled and soothed the pained flesh with salve. He’d explained that the hands must be trained just as the muscles so that the sword would no longer cause such injuries. Afterwards he’d gritted his teeth and gone on with his training and, true to his father’s words, his hands had been strengthened. He hadn’t bled since.

Dante sighed and shook his head, turning his hands over so he no longer saw them. Like his hands he could feel his muscles weakening. They were losing the strength that he had spent his entire childhood building. His endurance was fading as well. Not so long ago he had been able to walk all day without more than a moment’s rest. Now he couldn’t even keep a steady pace for longer than a few hours. He’dHe’d complained to the servants that were sent to tend him. He complained he was bored, so they brought him books. He complained that he was unhappy, they brought him a board and pieces so that he could play bruadya a game for a solitary person. He complained he was restless, they gave him sideways looks and snickered to each other about the Emperor’s misuse of his energy when they thought he could not hear.

It was infuriating.

He’d chased them out a few days ago, unable to take their sly comments and the way they spoke over him, as though he were just a doll to be dressed up for t Emp Emperor’s amusement. Not so long ago servants such as they respected him, perhaps even feared him a little. He’d been granted the right to bear weapons, something that their own status would never permit. Only nobles and guards were granted such privileges and they respected that. Now they treated him like a naughty pet that was beneath their notice and it stung his pride to be treated as such.

His actions had brought Dorjan down on his head and they had exchanged heated words. Dante had demanded the right to practice his weaponry. He’d been shocked into silence to learn that the privilege to bear arms had been stripped from him. He’d rallied against that decree, citing his family’s status as minor nobles. He’d been born to the right to bear arms. He’d gone through the training to learn to use them. How dare they try to strip him of such a thing?

Annoyed eyes had glared at him until he had fallen into silence, making him feel very much the naughty child that had just thrown a temper tantrum. He’d seethed at the feeling until his former commander’s words had shocked him.

“You no longer have a family,” Dorjan had said, his words clipped and broking no argument, “You no longer have any status what-so-ever. Whatever life you’ve lived before is ended. It has been struck from the records and put in the ground. You aren’t a guard, you aren’t a second son with a noble name, you aren’t even the slave the servants had been informed you are.”

“Then what am I?” He had asked.

Dorjan had snorted and turned his back on him. “Nothing. There is no Leviathan and there is no Dante, son of Malachi Kaemon. At least, not that the world will ever know about.”

Dante had stood, stunned into silence while the older man walked out. One single word had stripped him of everything in one foul swoop. A single word to sum up all he was and all he would ever be.

Nothing.

He stood suddenly, flinging the journal and stacks of loose paper fris dis desk, creating a shower of crackling perfect white sheets. They fluttered through the air like birds, flipping and soaring around him before coming to rest on the floor, flat and unmoving.

Dead. He thought. Like I am.

He moved through the curtained door and into the Emperor’s bedroom. On silent feet he walked up to the great crest hanging on the wall. A serpentine golden dragon wrapped about a sword made of flame. Once it had meant everything to him. It had stood for everything he wished to protect. Everything wished to serve.

Now he felt like a ghost trapped in the real world with all his past wants and desires but unable to act on them. He felt useless and weak. His enforced helplessness made his blood boil and his hands into fists. With a shriek of rage he smashed his fist into the heavy metal crest.

“I am not dead!” He howled.

“I’m inclined to agree. You do seem pretty lively for a dead man, to me.”

Dante stiffened and felt a flush creep up his neck. He couldn’t bring himself to turn towards the man that stood in the doorway so he bowed his head, staring at the wooden floor. He heard the hiss of silk on silk as the Emperor moved behind him. A hand lightly brushed over his back and he shivered at the gentle touch.

“Hmm, you seem solid too.” Came the cultured voice against his ear.

He shuddered and jerked away from the other man’s touch. “Don’t.” He said, his voice gone deep with emotion, “Just don’t.”

Dante was well aware of the hurt that appeared in Emperor’s green eyes and it only made him hate himself more. He pulled the thin blue robe tighter around him despite the extreme heat in the room. The Emperor kept his room at a temperature just one step below boiling and Dante often found it stifling. He was supremely glad for whatever ingenious bit of engineering had been used when building the Leviathan’s personal room for it kept the heat from seeping in into his domain despite the fact that no doorway was present to keep it out.

“Dante?”

He blinked and turned to stare at the man had had spoken his name. Ardel stood watching him and he could detect the hesitancy in the man, as though he thought he was walking on uneven ground. He repressed a grimace. He was supposed to be trying to make the man feel comfortable around him and they had come a long way from where they had started nearly a month ago but it always seemed that something came up to put them a few steps back.

It seemed today’s set back would be his fault.

He murmured an apology and a half formed excuse through tight lips. He tried to make his feet take him back to his own room but he found that he suddenly couldn’t go back there. It was too much like a crypt and Dorjan’s words rang too loud in his ears. He shuddered.

“Are you unwell, Dante? I . . . I heard about you chasing out the servants earlier. Shall I call for a healer?” A hand touched his shoulder.

“What good is a healer for a dead man, my lord?” He snarled before he could stop himself, whirling on the startled man. “What do they care if I am well or not? All I have to do is lie there while you use me. Isn’t that right, my lord? Why not just leave me until I have lost even the ability to walk? It would save everyone so much time and trouble!”

He fell silent, panting for breath as the heat of the room swept through him, threatening to make him as weak as he had said. He sat heavily in the chair next to him, his body trembling shamefully. Through the spill of black hair that had pulled free of the clasp during his tirade he saw Ardel staring him with wide eyes.

Silence met his outburst and he hazarded another glance at the Emperor. Ardel was watching him with narrowed eyes as one would do while studying a scene that was not quite right. He straightened and came forward, his pointed chin tilted up and his jaw tight. Dante had to tear his eyes away from the man. He was used to the sudden changes in demeanor from frightened, hesitant Ardel to the sure, determined Emperor who always got his way.

The Emperor came to stand before him and he found himself staring at the long red robes of state. A golden chain cinched all that fabric to his thin waist so that it could flare back out beneath the chain’s grasp. Dante wished suddenly that he were the one wearing the layers of cloth. He felt terribly exposed in the simple cerulean robe and his hands tightened, holding it so tight around him that a part of him feared it would tear.

“Who has said such things to you?” The Emperored. ed.

Dante flinched and stared down at his lap. “My apologies, my lord. It seems I am poor company today.”

Small hands cupped his cheeks forcforced him to look up. Ardel pressed a kiss to his brow, so soft and innocent that Dante couldn’t even begin to fear it for there was nothing else behind the gesture than what it appeared. There was no promise of other activities, no hint that Ardel meant it as a prelude to any future coupling. It just a gesture meant to sooth pain and doubt.

“Who has said such things to you?” Ardel asked again, his warm breath stirring the loose strands of hair, “Who has put these false fears within your mind and this pain within your heart?”

Dante shook his head. “They are not false, my lord. They are the truth of my world now.”

The Emperor pulled away from him with a frown. “Why? Why should you believe that you are dead? Why should you believe that you should be regulated to my bed for use? Why would you believe I would want that?”

Dante flushed again and dropped his eyes. “I did not mean it that way.” He whispered.

“Words are for anyone who listens and may be taken however the listener chooses. You may have meant nothing by it but I choose to see something there. I see doubt in your eyes and I hear the fear in your voice. I do not want you unwilling in my bed. Why would you think such a thing?”

“Because that is the way it is, isn’t it? No matter what my wishes I must end my day there. That’s what I am here for. That is why Leviathans have been forced to do for well over two thousand years. Its our only purpose.”

“Who has said this?” Ardel asked again, the Emperor in him making him persistent.

Dante threw up his hands in frustration. “Everyone! Everywhere I turn all I hear is ‘the Levithan this’ and ‘you must’ that! It is written in every book that is passed into my hands! It has become the first word I hear on rising and the last word that is drilled into my head on going to sleep.”

Ardel pursed his lips and stared at the large bed with its tall posts and red canopy. “It is true that it is written that you and I must copulate but we have not done so. I know that it is because it is my wish. I cannot yet touch you without remembering his touch but I would not force you either, Dante. I would wait for you to be ready as well. Who knows? Perhaps we may never have to have sex.”

Dante shook his head. “We both know that is not true. You’ve come a long way in regaining yourself but you are still not cured. My touch cools most of your blood but there is a fire deep within you, one I cannot quench just by touching your skin. As long as that is there you will never be free of the madness . . . or the nightmares.”

He saw the flincdel del tried to hide. The bouts of madness had lessened and only occurred ie Eme Emperor was strung too thin. Five years of burning dragon’s blood had left him with precious little endurance. Two years of almost complete solitude had left him easily confused when too many people were trying to garner his attention. He was slowly gaining his confidence back but he could only last so long before the madness began to overtake him and Lord Dorjan or Lord Errol had to swiftly extracted him from the public’s view. They had gone a long way to curing him but they had come across another milestone. One they usually left unvoiced.

Ardel wasn’t getting any better.

They seemed to have reached a plateau that only one thing would get them past.

“Why did you chase out the servants the other day?”

The question was asked softly and Dante sighed. If it had been the Emperor asking he could have ignored it but he could never seen to bring himself to deny fragile, healing Ardel anything. Especially not when he sounded so much like soft-spoken Sibley.

“They annoyed me.”

“Why?”

“Because they treat me like a pet to be pampered and preened but never to be taken seriously. They dress me like I am an invalid. They brush my hair and bath me. I imagine they would try to feed me as well if they weren’t so frightened I would bite them.”

Ardel smiled gently and looked down at him. “They do that to me too. Does that make me a pet?”

Dante stuttered for a minute. “No, of course not! You’re the Emperor . . .” he stumbled to a halt, not sure how to voice a universal truth. He shook his head and tried another tactic. “I am . . . was,” he forced himself to correct bitterly, “a Knight. Nobody dresses knights and brushes their hair. They take care of themselves and take great pride in it. It just . . . it stings to be reminded how far I’ve fallen.”

Ardel’s hands were on his cheeks again. “You haven’t fallen.” He whispered, green eyes pleading with him to believe. “You saved me. You saved us. Because you are a Knight . . .”

“No!” Dante shouted, “I am not a Knight! I am a slave . . . no,” he laughed bitterly, “not even that. He was right. I am nothing. I have one duty now, to spread egs egs and whore myself for my country and I haven’t even done that properly have I?”

The sharp slap caught him completely by surprise and he blinked a few times. Blood throbbed in his cheek where he’d been struck and the heat of the stinging mark matched the heat he saw in the Emperor’s green eyes. Hands gripped the arms of the chair as the man leaned closer, his breath ragged. Dante felt the pale skin warming, a warning that the dragon’s blood within the thin man’s veins was awake and boiling.

“Don’t you ever say that again!” The Emperor hissed between labored breaths. “You are not a whore and I will have no such creature in my bed! I will not lie with a man who is only there because he thinks it is his duty. I am not so desperate as that.”

Dante shuddered at hearing the torturous voice coming from Ardel’s pale throat. It was wrong. Terribly, terribly wrong. He reached up and clasped the Emperor’s face as he had done for him just moments ago. He leaned forward to press his lips to the pale pink ones above him but the Emperor pulled back, glaring at him with narrowed eyes.

“Do not touch me!”

“My lord,” Dante whispered, reaching for him again, “I must.”

“No! You have made it abundantly clear that you find me repulsive. ll nll not have you if you resent me so much.”

“I never said that, my lord.”

“Then tell me what you do resent!” The Emperor demanded, “You must hate something. It is chewing you up inside and what else am I to think since you will not voice it!”

Dante lowered his arms, surprised. Ardel was rarely so coherent when the madness was upon him and Dante began to wonder if perhaps it was more anger than fire driving the wild eyed Emperor.

“I resent being forced into this role,” he said, folding his hands so Ardel wouldn’t feel threatened by his power to calm the fire within him, “I want to help you and through that held my land but I resent being expected to throw away all that I know so I can pretend to be some bed toy to be put away when your kingdom needs you. I don’t just shut off when you leave, my lord, and I cannot just wait around for your return. I was raised to bear a sword yet now I am forbidden one. I was raised to be physically strong yet now I am not even given the means to maintain my own body! No, Ardel,” he whispered, forcing the Emperor’s name past the years of societal rules that demanded he never speak the Emperor’s name to his face like they were equals, “I do not resent you. In fact I find you very lovely. I will not lie, I look forward to what we must eventually do with more than a little trepidation but it is not because I find you lacking in any way.”

The Emperor’s breath had begun to even out and the suspicion had mellowed. “That was a fine speech.” He remarked, his tone slightly mocking.

Dante shrugged the small insult off, knowing that it was the madness that made such things slip from Ardel’s tongue and that they were not truly meant. He stood and took a step towards the smaller man, pausing to see if it would be allowed. The Emperor made no move to escape so he took the last few steps between them.

He placed his hands on Ardel’s narrow shoulders and peered at him. A thin layer of sweat had broken out across the pale brow and the brilliant red hair was limp and damp. There was red dust on the thin neck and he smelled very faintly of horses.

“Would you like to bath, my lord?” Dante asked, stepping back and taking one of the Emperor’s hands.

A look of fear flashed through the green eyes and Dante sensed he would refuse.

“I will hold you,” he promised, “I won’t let you go.”

The Emperor looked like he was going to refuse but the part that was still Ardel shone through and he nodded hesitantly. Dante smiled gently and lead him through the curtained doorway. Ardel froze at the sight of the still pool and Dante had to coax him to the edge.

He unlatched the golden belt and pulled it away, letting the Emperor’s robes fall open. Methodically he removed each layer, folding the expensive cloth and finally adding his own discarded robe to the pile. He took a moment to study the pale body as he worked the knobs that would cause warm water to flow down the stone wall and into the pool, beginning the cycling process that would remove the cooler water he favored.

Thin wiry muscles were finally beginning to show on the fine boned body. Ardel’s skin was pale with no blemishes anywhere. He bore no scars or strange skin colorations. For all the world he appeared as though he had been carved from marble and then draped in silk. Dante knew how soft all that perfect skin was and his body tightened at the thought. He longed to know what it was like to have that fae man beneath him, to feel the soft skin under his hands and arch up against his own body as he drove him relentlessly to heaven.

He shook his head sharply, chasing such thoughts from his mind. This was the Emperor, he reminded himself. A month ago he would have been horrified if anyone had suggested he would sleep with him, let alone fuck him into the mattress like he dreamed of doing. Now it seemed he would get the chance to be with the man but he knew it wouldn’t be in the style he was used to.

It was one of the reasons he was reluctant to push Ardel into take the final step. He was fine with constant flesh on flesh touching and he even savored the hesitant kisses they shared when Ardel required a bit more contact but he privately feared going beyond that. Another man had never taken. He. He’d always been the one in control and he wasn’t sure he could . . . perform . . .if forced to play the submissive role. He snorted to himself. Not that it was really anything to fear. After all, all he had to do was lie there and take what the Emperor gave him. He could always close his eyes and pretend that their roles were reversed. Perhaps then he would get some measure of pleasure from it.

He hoped so.

The thought of someone fucking him was enough to calm his own arousal and he was grateful that his body didn’t give his blasphemous thoughts away when he stood and approached the man who was staring at the gently moving water like it was some snake that he knew was going to bite him.

He took Ardel’s hands in his firmly and stepped down onto the first of four steps that led down into the shallowest part of the pool. Ardel followed him nervously and a few times he had to pull gently at the hands clasped in his to get the Emperor over his fear of the water that lapped at his legs.

When Ardel’s feet touched the bottom of the pool and the water came to his chest, Dante held him tightly in his arms, forcing himself to ignore the way the Emperor’s hard nipples brushed his chest, causing his own to tighten. Every second day servants woke him and he was forced to sit still while they divested his body of any hair it bore. He’d been reading the journals left by his predecessors and it seemed to be a ritual held over from a thousand years ago. The journal was a virtual horror story of what could go wrong being a Leviathan.

The Emperor this Leviathan had been called to serve had been spoiled and cruel. He had made it his daily mission to torment the poor man, finding ways to humiliate him because, like Dante himself, this Leviathan quailed at the idea of going from a lord’s son to a slave.

Emperors were forbidden from allowing other people to use Leviathans though this particular journal didn’t explain why, and the Knights of Aidan, who seemed to be the only oimmuimmune from the Emperor’s power, forbade them from making a public spectacle of them. It was simply too dangerous to draw attention to them and it was far too dangerous for them to die since it appeared that it took the power a few years to manifest itself to a recognizable level. By the time most Leviathans had been discovered after the untimely death of the previous one the Emperor had well and y dey descended into madness.

This particular Emperor from a thousand years ago had come up with an ingenious way to get around the decree. The Emperor had expressed distaste at the slave’s black hair and had refused to sleep with him until it had been shaven.

All of it.

Dante had shuddered at the description, feeling the man’s humiliation at having been forced to sit still while a swarm of servants had removed all of his hair, including that os hes head and eyes. Even his eyelashes had been ordered plucked. It was a spectacle repeated every second day.

Fortunately, though Dante wouldn’t ever admit he thought that way since it was treason, the Emperor had been killed. His son had immediately taken over as Emperor and the Leviathan had gone to him. The son had been as kind as his father cruel but he had discovered that he liked the feel of bare flesh under his hands. They had made a compromise. The Leviathan kept the hair on his head and about the eyes and the hair below was removed.

Apparently the style had caught on and was still being enforced today.

Ardel was clinging to the side of the pool, watching with wide green eyes as Dante lathered a sponge and worked it over his shoulders. He made soft sounds and leaned back against rubbrubbing motion and Dante had to back up a step to keep his sudden arousal from touching the man. He reviewed the abused Leviathan’s journal in his head to calm his body as he scrubbed the white skin clean. He could see Ardel fighting the fire of the dragon’s blood but it was a fight he was lg. Dg. Dante shrugged to him. So. Sometimes just being surrounded was enough for Ardel to regain control, sometimes it wasn’t.

He set the sponge aside and turned the Emperor to face him. Ardel peered up at him with shy eyes and he smiled despite himself. Their lips touched, barely more than a ghosting of flesh on flesh. Ardel groaned into his mouth and pressed harder, his thin arms wrapping about Dante’s neck and pulling him down.

Dante allowed his mouth to be ravished. Ardel’s tongue thrust into his and the smaller man kissed him as though he were trying to crawl into his very soul through his mouth. He shuddered as the long fingers tightened in his hair, pulling painfully. They weren’t going to be able to wait much longer. He understood that Ardel was afraid of him and that the effects of five years of Kaze’s lies about the role of the Leviathan weren’t going to be easily overcome but Ardel’s fear was slipping away. The touches they did share were becoming increasingly more frantic on Ardel’s part and Dante knew that soon the Emperor wasn’t going to be able to stop at a few stolen kisses and a night of cuddling.

Ardel was pressing against his mouth so hard he knew they were going to be bruised and he pushed all thoughts from his mind. He walked them towards the center of the pool so they were surrounded by water. Ardel was too far gone to notice. Closing his eyes he wrapped his arms firmly around the Emperor’s waist so that he would not slip and lose his footing in the slightly deeper water. He breathed in through his nose and relaxed, letting his senses reach out.

The dragon’s blood, hot and angry, licked at his skin and burned at his mouth. He resisted the urge to pull away and instead accepted it into him, daring the fire to enter him. It recognized the challenge and lunged, flaring over his skin. He immediately gathered his own power to him and wrapped it about himself, extinguishing the power that beat against his skin and trapping it inside.

His power collected deep within him, slowly rising like a filling lake. The fire danced across the surface only to be swallowed up. He forced his breathing to remain even as he drew more and more power from the water around him. It filled him to the brim and spilled from his mouth into the Emperor. Ardel stiffened and Dante took over, kissing back as he had been kissed, forcing his power within the retreating mouth.

Their tongues clashed, fire and water, twisting together in an eternal dance. The dragon’s blood within Ardel fought desperately but Dante was patient, dousing the flames again and again with his power.

It was then that Ardel wrapped his legs around his waist.

Dante’s eyes flew open and he lost his grip on his power as the Emperor began to move, rocking his hips against his Leviathan’s muscled stomach. Dante scrambled desperately to gather his power but something was hardening against his abdomen each time it was ground between their bodies and it was all he could do not to look down a. He. He peered helplessly at the man, at a loss as to what to do. Ardel had never done this before and he wasn’t sure how to react.

The dragon’s fire flared up suddenly, pushing his power out of the man and Ardel flung back his head, crying out as his blood boiled within him. Dante clung to him, trying to keep from being overwhelmed by the backlash of his own power while keeping a firm hold on the Emperor.

Ardel writhed, rocking faster against his stomach. Green eyes stared up at him, large and needy. “Please . . .” He whispered and Dante stiffened when Ardel’s pink tongue flickered out to lick his lips.

Dante realized he was losing the battle and he knew that if he did the fire would consume Ardel completely. It would destroy all they had accomplished.rlinrling at the challenge he pushed through the water until they reached the side. He lifted the man up onto the ledge and Ardel sagged back onto his elbows. His legs parted and Dante stared at the member that rested proudly on the Emperor’s stomach.

“Please . . . Dante . . .”

Unable to ignore the soft cries Dante captured the swollen organ and brought it to his mouth. Ardel shrieked and arched up, shoving his desire deep into Dante’s mouth and down his throat. Dante relaxed and let the smaller man cling to him as he pumped himself in and out. Once again he called his power to him and let it fill him.

Ardel’s movements became erratic and he cried out continuously, desperately trying to find his release but the fire within him refused it. The curse of the Aidans worked against the Emperor, urging him to fan the flames of lust but not allowing him to give them an outlet. His flesh became almost painfully hot and Dante knew he was running out of time.

His gripped Ardel’s hips tightly, pulling him so that he fell back against the stone floor. Shoving the man’s legs farther apart Dante slid his hands down, cupping the Emperor’s sac with one hand while pressing a forearm to Ardel’s soft belly, trapping him and holding him down. Ardel keened and thrashed but Dante refused to release him.

Pulling his head back so that the shaft slid from his mouth and teasing the flesh beneath the Emperor’s sac he sucked.

Hard.

Ardel tensed and Dante sensed the fire straining to hold the man back. He smirked to himself and brushed his teeth against the treat in his mouth. The fire’s resistance broke and Dante shoved his own power into the Emperor as his mouth was filled with Ardel’s seed.

The power of the Leviathan poured through the sobbing man and extinguished the fire before it could retreat. Everything in its path was doused and Dante collapsed onto the ledge as it poured from him in a rush.

He lay bonelessly, letting the water cradle his lower body and toss it to and fro until he could gather enough energy to lift his head. He peered down at the man on the floor, worried at Ardel’s stillness.

Green eyes stared off dreamily and the Emperor’s chest heaved for breath but otherwise he seemed fine. Dante smiled despite himself and swallowed, pleased with Ardel’s taste. He pulled himself up beside the limp form and lay down next to him, nudging Ardel until he flopped onto his side and Dante spooned up against him from behind. His hand brushed up and down against the Emperor’s chest, in a soothing motion until Ardel’s breath began to even out.

Dante allowed his eyes to unfocus, dropping into the strange sight that had been woken within him since the first time he had lain with Ardel. He could see the core of fire still within the man but it seemed dimmer, smaller. It solidified his suspicion that there was only one way to truly contain it.

He had felt the way the fire had fought Ardel’s release while it sought to drive him higher and higher. Flame was a power of anger and pleasure. It fed off of these things. No wonder Ardel had taken so many lovers. The curse of the dragon’s blood required him to. Dante snorted.

He gently withdrew; returning any excess power to the water from whence it came. He left Ardel with a measure of it to prevent any resurgence for a while, granting the Emperor a brief reprieve. Tonight or perhaps even tomorrow the fire would burn away the remnants of his power and he would have to do it all over again.

The curtain was suddenly flung back and Dante stiffened, pulling the Emperor close to him in case it was an attack but it wasn’t. It was only Dorjan, who stared at him with a measuring look and then moved to study the Emperor who was weakly trying to hold himself up.

“My lord?” He said politely.

Ardel shook his head as though to clear it and nearly collapsed. The only thing that saved him from collapsing fully was Dante’s arm. “What . . . is it?” He asked, his voice breathy.

“You asked to be notified when the ambassador from Ventae ved.ved.”

Ardel sighed and nodded. “I will come.”

Dorjan bowed and moved into the Emperor’s bedroom, giving them some privacy.

Dante had to help Ardel stand but once on his feet the man seemed to get his energy back. The Emperor toweled off and dressed, holding still while Dante carefully checked to make sure that all the layers appeared as they had before he had removed them and watched as Ardel walked from the room.

He took a weary step towards his bed but paused. The gurgle of water called to him and he was reminded of an interesting fact he had read in all three of the journals he had finished. He decided to put it to the test and stepped towards the pool. Returning to the water he swam to the deepest part of the pool and relaxed near the bottom. The water seemed to cradle him from all sides and he closed his eyes, falling fast asleep in its nurturing embrace.