Chapter Text
“I’ve had no issue with either of my pregnancies,” Zazamaiya said as Beldaruit settled into his comfortable chair in her bright parlor while the guards retreated to give them room, “but my dear husband insists on pampering me to the best of his ability. If I didn’t put my foot down, I imagine I’d suffocate under such pampering.”
Beldaruit had to admit Zazamaiya’s parlor was quite full of comforts, far more than most nobles Beldaruit knew of. Pillows for chairs and couches, thick tapestries and carpets, a large lit hearth to keep the place warm in the encroaching chill of the season, and blankets galore. The table was covered in more food than two people could eat, glowing in the firelight and bits of sunshine from the large open balcony with fine curtains pushed back a little, to support the torchlight. They could see a bit of the city at a distance. It wasn’t as stunning a view as it might be in a warmer time, but still more than Beldaruit got from his own closed-off rooms.
“Does it frustrate you?” Beldaruit asked as he wondered just what he should start off with. He really wasn’t used to this overwhelming finery. And it made him miss his own home, especially when various warmth and fire spells would have kept him more comfortable and the air less full of the stench of oil and burning. Instead, he was loaded into a thick coat, had to manage his splint, and sat on thick pillows with a blanket over his lap. “It sounds like it does.”
Zazamaiya chuckled. “Sometimes. But telling him off gets him to go away for a while.” Her expression grew fond. “And I’d rather he fussed over me than things he can’t fix as much.” She looked over towards the balcony with a somber expression. “He goes out on patrol or heads to the spire to help much of the day. At least here, I can coax him to sleep, where it’s warm.”
“He’s not sleeping enough?” Beldaruit asked in surprise. Deanreldy seemed plenty rested when last Beldaruit saw him. He always seemed too full of energy, really. If he’s going out into the city in this chill, from where does he draw his fire?
“He masks it well,” Zazamaiya replied. “It’s part of his appeal: it gets people to admire him. A king who can always keep going, regardless of whatever stands in his way.”
Beldaruit wondered if an overworked Deanreldy boded ill. Of course Deanreldy was a busy politician, but if he was so stressed now, those pushing to enlarge their own power bases might have an easier time.
And why is she telling me this? Beldaruit wondered. Given Deanreldy’s own sharpness on control practiced by witches, he couldn’t imagine Zazamaiya’s goal in pointing out one of the man’s weaknesses to a witch. And one of the three Wise. Beldaruit did not think it was done carelessly.
“He visits you a great deal, o Wise One,” Zazamaiya said as she picked up a small pink fruit with green edges. “I think he’s spreading the worry around. Which can be good or ill.” She smiled at Beldaruit. “He noted you get so irritable when he comes to visit, and I cannot help but feel some companionship.”
Beldaruit forced a smile. “I am unused to being treated by a king, Your Majesty.” Normally he’d just go to the nearest regular doctors, and that was rare. He was decently active and healthy before Silver Eve. But being in Ezrest just made everything worse, even ignoring the broken arm.
But it would not be good if Zazamaiya thought he had some complaint against her husband’s care.
“You are used to rule, though,” Zazamaiya said, continuing to smile. “Among your own people. In your own hall. And yet you do not expect to be treated the same here?”
“I am not a king,” Beldaruit clarified. “Nor do I expect to be waited on by actual kings. I simply expected to be treated as befits my station as a guest and leader of my people. And I am. I do not want for anything.” Really, outside Deanreldy’s personality, the Silver Eve disaster, and Beldaruit’s own health issues, most everything was going well.
“And yet you are unhappy,” Zazamaiya noted, making Beldaruit reach for something to eat in order to hide his discomfort. “My husband has noted it. Healing the body involves healing the mind as well, and the guards talk of your arguments.”
Beldaruit kept his expression schooled. He wasn’t surprised Zazamaiya had heard of such things. And he dreaded to think of what the guards heard in halls like this, especially when silencing spells were useless. “We do not fight if we can avoid it.” Beldaruit could only imagine the visiting nurses – whose numbers increased since his injury – and guards gossiping of discord between the king and the witches… Deanreldy’s demonstration before the public was already far too much, and the guards could take the gossip back to their families, to people who hadn’t seen their king kneeling or already heard of it, or who had and were coming to terrible conclusions about it…
Zazamaiya’s smile grew a little darker. “But do you want to avoid it? A powerful witch caged and at the mercy of a king? And a king, humbled even more by his inability to save his people. That is liable to lead to difficulty.”
Beldaruit didn’t appreciate the comparison. “I am not caged.” He had less freedom without his Sealchair, but he could always get someone to help him if needed. “And your husband only visits briefly. And we are cordial enough. We do not… take out our anger on each other.” At least Beldaruit hoped he wasn’t. Much, anyway. Any issues he had with Deanreldy were earned.
“You seldom leave your rooms, o Wise One,” Zazamaiya continued, unperturbed. “Yet you helped defeat such an enemy for us. Saved many lives. And my husband, in his own words, did comparatively little. It’s made him uneasy.”
“He was indispensable to the other doctors, I’m told,” Beldaruit noted. Beldaruit certainly had no such knowledge. He could supply a contraption to aid the doctors in their work, but the life-saving medical acts that magic offered were only brief. The doctors had to do the real work themselves. Deanreldy among them.
Zazamaiya nodded, though her expression was a bit sad. “If only he could be content with that.”
If only, Beldaruit agreed, thinking of how Deanreldy pushed against the cage of the magicless world, like a pacing lion. “I am not unhappy. I enjoy your hospitality. I miss my home of course, but do not most people when far from theirs?”
Zazamaiya inclined her head rather than replying. As Beldaruit ate a small sandwich, Zazamaiya continued, “Then I return your question to you, o Wise One: does my husband’s care frustrate you?”
Beldaruit finished chewing before he replied, “Our situation is a complicated one, and I think that makes things more difficult than they would otherwise be. Your husband is clearly a well-trained doctor. The best I’ve ever seen, and perhaps the world has ever seen. His care is thus unparalleled. He is…” He frowned, looking for the proper explanation. And his mind went back to gentle hands. Intense eyes. That damn open shirt the man always wore, even in the colder days. “Thoughtful.”
“Your comfort is ever on his mind,” Zazamaiya said. “Though if you ever need support if he goes too far, while I’m sure you can stand for yourself, you need only ask. I am more experienced with him.”
Does she want me to place trust in her so I’ll reveal more of our plans? Beldaruit thought as he inclined his head. Or perhaps talk about magic, given her husband has failed at such endeavors? It was unnerving to always be on guard like this, even as he ate. Usually, he was with his peers or children who would talk about their learning. “I appreciate the thought, Your Majesty.”
“It’s interesting, though,” Zazamaiya continued as she rolled some shelled nuts in her fingers. “Here I thought you’d be telling me that his flirting is irritating.”
Beldaruit blinked at her for a bit. And then asked, “Apologies, Your Majesty, I think I misheard you…?”
“I thought you might complain about his flirting,” Zazamaiya said. “He can be rather persistent when he’s found someone of interest, I’m afraid. But if you want him to stop, he’ll do so.”
“Flirting?” Beldaruit asked, still feeling like he was missing something. “He’s… flirting with me?”
Zazamaiya raised her eyebrows in surprise. “I’m told as much. Certainly he talks about you enough when he’s with me.”
“Well, that’s… I’m a visitor, that’s all!” There’s no way Deanreldy Ezrest is flirting with me! He assumed the guards and visiting nurses were discussing potential hostilities, not… that.
“It wouldn’t be the first time,” Zazamaiya said with a chuckle, which alarmed Beldaruit.
“But he is your husband!” Beldaruit said. This was a part of Deanreldy’s life that Beldaruit had never been informed of.
“He is a king,” Zazamaiya replied, dryly. “And I am extremely pregnant. And not given to enjoy certain activities when I am in such a way, unfortunately. At least not every day. I do not mind if he has a dalliance every now and then so that I can be left in peace. Besides, it always makes him so fun afterward.” There was an odd gleam in her eye. “He learns things from different people he can bring back to our bed.”
Beldaruit was having trouble keeping his expression under control. He had no idea what to say, other than Lagrah would probably be angry, and Vinanna would probably laugh. Telling a pregnant monarch such topics were likely inappropriate seemed ridiculous. And, I know pregnant people who enjoy their partner’s attentions plenty during pregnancy, was definitely not a suitable response in the moment, especially given Zazamaiya apparently counted among their number. And going over every interaction Beldaruit had with Deanreldy and thinking of the moments Deanreldy leaned in too close or his dark eyes lingered or…
What in the world am I doing? Beldaruit wondered in desperation.
“If you have no interest,” Zazamaiya continued in the silence, “it is truly no burden. You may tell him to stop, or I will do so on your behalf. He does not intend to badger you to gain entry to your bed.”
Beldaruit wondered if he was meant to politely ask her to refuse Deanreldy on his behalf. Or if he really should just do it on his own. Zazamaiya and Deanreldy could use this somehow. Because of course Beldaruit would turn Deanreldy down if Deanreldy was seriously attempting this. It was the only proper response.
It was not that Beldaruit felt it impossible for someone like Deanreldy to take an interest in Beldaruit, even ignoring all their arguments in the past. It wasn’t like Beldaruit had been of accord with all his partners on all matters, though generally they shared more than Beldaruit and Deanreldy did, even outside magic. It was more a matter of how inappropriate the whole idea was. Deanreldy tying himself even more closely to the witches was dangerous, even temporarily. Both Beldaruit and Deanreldy had much at risk from such an interaction.
Is it another attempt to learn more about us or catch us on the back foot? Beldaruit wondered, desperately. Supposing Beldaruit said yes, Deanreldy could claim witches were corrupt, lust-obsessed fiends or something… Lagrah would cry at the danger, either way: accepting to see what Deanreldy was up to, or rejection because it was appropriate… And either way, being stuck in such a position…
“I… thank you, for your advice, Your Majesty,” Beldaruit said, with another forced smile. “I shall discuss things with your husband, to clear up the confusion.” How he’d do so was anyone’s guess. “I meant nothing untoward in our relations.” Though he wasn’t sure, given Zazamaiya’s comments, if she would have minded, given the circumstances.
Zazamaiya gave him a complicated look. Then she nodded and said, “Very well.”
Beldaruit breathed in deeply before looking back at his plate, which was at least partially full, though he’d barely touched anything, and not just because it was harder to eat with only one hand.
“If you don’t mind a perhaps impertinent question,” Zazamaiya continued, “do you have experience in these matters? I know that witches are hardly celibate, but your manner seems a bit unnerved.” She smiled. “The way we do things in Ezrest may be a bit overwhelming, and I do not wish you to be overwhelmed.”
Beldaruit breathed in deeply to ground himself before saying, “I have plenty of experience in such matters, Your Majesty, thank you. The Great Hall is not like Ezrest in many ways, but dalliances are not uncommon.” Certainly apprentices got up to all kinds of things. And families living close to each other, and essentially on top of each other, had close ties for many reasons. “It is more that I do not want to start a political incident over this, of all things.” He had other headaches to contend with.
“You would not be doing so,” Zazamaiya seemingly attempted to reassure him. “My husband is discreet in that at least. Whatever you decide.” After a moment of consideration, she added, “He likes people, genuinely. Learning about them, appreciating them… in every way.” She winked at him conspiratorially.
Beldaruit wondered if he shouldn’t have just stayed in his room and called for Riliphin. That felt a great deal easier than listening to a queen proposition Beldaruit for her husband. “Thank you, Your Majesty. That is good to know.” He knew he was going to have to talk to Deanreldy about this to some degree, and clear things up. Assuming Zazamaiya was not setting this whole thing up to embarrass him. But it was quite the prank if so.
What in the world will I even say? He wondered again as they moved on to thankfully normal small talk about other matters. Assuming this isn’t some joke… How does one turn down a man like Deanreldy Ezrest?
The city was quiet that night, and the castle, despite its lack of magic, was still kept warm. Beldaruit had plenty of blankets, and they were suitably comfortable. Deanreldy had kept his word and ensured he had more comfortable bedding to help with his bedsores.
Sleeping with the splint was irritating. Beldaruit was used to moving himself around or keeping parts of himself in place, but the splint was another thing he had to worry about.
And this night he was even more restless than usual.
After eating with Zazamaiya – where she discussed her own son’s education and asked if the Wise in Teachings had any non-magical suggestions, just out of curiosity – he returned to his rooms, where Riliphin was waiting with more books for his own study. Beldaruit buried himself in that, focusing on his apprentice. On sane matters, not… whatever was going on with Ezrest’s strange king.
“Prince Eoleo is very… friendly,” Riliphin commented at one point. He sat in a chair and was holding his notebook, where he’d been practicing writing spells and recitation for Beldaruit to review.
“Oh?” Beldaruit asked with a smile. “Is that where you’ve been vanishing off to these days?” He hadn’t exactly forced Riliphin to stay cloistered with him. And the boy had been taking more time to himself, rather than hiding from the world. Beldaruit only wanted to encourage it, even as he missed the young man’s company.
Riliphin’s cheeks reddened, and Beldaruit was hopeful about the child making friends, but as Beldaruit had seen from Eoleo’s parents, perhaps he should have picked other acquaintances. Less dangerous ones.
“We talk sometimes,” Riliphin said, nervously. “About his studies and the kingdom. He’s not been allowed out much since the Silver Eve disaster, so I think he’s a bit bored…”
“So long as you are careful,” Beldaruit said. “Eoleo is nobility and will take over his father’s throne one day, should nothing adverse happen to him or the throne before then, but he is also an outsider. And just as likely to take up his father’s art.” And bored nobility apparently get up to nonsense, if Eoleo’s mother is correct…
“He is very intelligent already,” Riliphin noted. “For one so young. He feels more like a small politician than anything else.”
“The nobles start their children off early,” Beldaruit said, wryly. “Princes more so than others.” He imagined, with parents like Deanreldy and Zazamaiya, a child would have a lot to handle. “You will one day have to deal more with noble patrons, Riliphin, so this will be good practice.” Beldaruit supposed the interaction, risky as it was, had its uses. Certainly, dealing with Coco had taught Deanreldy much about his own outlook on the world and magic’s place in it. “A precocious prince will become a precocious king, no doubt.”
Riliphin looked nervous, then. “I-I shall do my best, Lord Beldaruit. I will not disappoint you.”
“I know you won’t, Riliphin,” Beldaruit said, warmly, not wanting the boy to think Beldaruit was looking for him to fail. Friendship was not meant to be a test. “I’m glad to see you opening up. But feel no rush. We are not here for you to practice such things. When the city is more cleaned up and my arm is healed, we will return to the Great Hall.” And hopefully things will be better.
Talking with Riliphin had helped for a time. But the boy had to leave eventually after they ate dinner. And then Beldaruit was alone again. He could see starlight from his window, but he could not summon anything in his idleness. And he’d left all his good pipes at home. The sheets were also comfortable, he was quite warm, but there was still a slight itch to his body. Not of pain, but… something else.
The itch didn’t seem to just be from missing his own bed, or a lack of familiarity with a borrowed one. He’d been here enough nights by now that this place was familiar. The bed was large and well-made. He had plenty of room even for his tall body.
But it was suffocating, too. All the blankets, the sea of comfort… And just him, wherever he looked.
Beldaruit breathed in deeply, staring up at the dark. Is it loneliness in the end, really? He hadn’t bedded anyone in months, and was fine with that. But suddenly he was in a different place and everything changed… Why? He was content!
He thought of a bright smile and powerful hands made gentle. A sharp laugh and a proud voice.
Foolish, he thought, miserably, as he shut his eyes. Absolute foolishness.
Phantom whispers filled his ears, and he thought of those hands on him. Promises of more.
“Control masquerading as a helping hand,” Deanreldy had said. He’d been so close, Beldaruit could smell whatever Deanreldy used to clean his hair. And in that moment, Beldaruit knew that Deanreldy wanted control of Beldaruit. Somehow. At the time, it had been dangerous, and purely about power, and obtaining magic. Far too dangerous. It still was, really, even with Zazamaiya’s permission or invitation or whatever the lunch was meant to be… Deanreldy’s interest of any kind could only be worrying. And there were so many eyes on them.
But in the dark, with no one to watch, Beldaruit thought of other forms of control. Of bodies moving together. Lips in tender places. Hands everywhere.
He reached down under his robes, feeling his own interest, and his face burned. Damn it. What am I doing?