Chapter Text
“How are you feeling today, o Wise One?” Deanreldy asked with one of his typical smirks as he stood in the sun in Beldaruit’s castle chambers. Perhaps a kinder man would call it a roguish or handsome smile on a man many would beg to share a room with. Let alone lay on a bed while said king walked ever closer.
Beldaruit pressed his lips together, annoyed more than charmed (hopefully). He was not a desperate fanboy, but rather an injured witch only here until his body healed. And the most that could be said was that he was grateful Deanreldy didn’t bring his cats. “I am not further injured.” The sudden visit meant that neither Riliphin nor Lagrah were around as back-up, as the former was busy stretching his legs, and the latter was busy with cleaning up after Silver Eve.
Beldaruit wondered if Deanreldy had arrived at such a time on purpose. To catch Beldaruit alone and seemingly at the king’s mercy.
He would be wrong.
Deanreldy nodded his head, as if this was useful information and not Beldaruit desperately trying to avoid being drawn into another verbal battle. “The splint did its job, then?” He walked over to Beldaruit’s right side, and Beldaruit dutifully moved his right arm carefully out for better viewing. Deanreldy reached and gently touched the limb, his expression growing impassive in thought.
Beldaruit wondered, foolishly, what years of knowledge were running through the man’s head. The Wise in Teachings had gone through years of his own training, and life itself was always about learning something new. But here, at Beldaruit’s fingertips, was a world barred from him forever, even as it was so necessary. In Beldaruit’s early years, learning to navigate witchcraft with his at times frustrating body, he had learned many things from doctors, mostly in what to avoid and be wary of. But there was far more of healing he hadn’t learned than witchcraft. And never would, despite recent events.
That was the problem with Deanreldy. Witches and this king could work together, but there would always be danger. And pretending things could be as they once were was foolishness.
“I believe so,” Beldaruit replied. He continued watching Deanreldy work, much as the man being nearby felt like a prickly sensation on his skin. A good one or a terrifying one, Beldaruit truly didn’t know. The man wrecked the careful balance between them in a moment, seemingly happily enough. And yet it wasn’t as if Beldaruit could flee elsewhere, not in his condition, and the state of Ezrest after the Silver Eve disaster meant some witches were still needed here. Vinanna was still recovering from Easthies’ actions, and Lagrah was besieged by questions and more demands from the other rulers. Things were fractious, and Beldaruit could not treat this as a simple visit from a doctor.
But in moments like this, it was difficult to remind himself that Deanreldy was as dangerous as Beldaruit knew him to be. He didn’t treat Beldaruit like a hot coal or object of worship, but as a peer. Even while Deanreldy was one of the most powerful and knowledgeable figures in Ezrest, and sharp, to boot. Handsome, charismatic… Ridiculous as he’d been at times during Silver Eve, he’d still cut quite the figure, and made disliking him difficult, especially when they’d been so close already. Beldaruit, with all his extra time, some of which wasn’t taken up with reviewing materials Lagrah or Riliphin brought him, catching Vinanna up, or speaking to visitors, had annoyingly kept thinking of all he knew of the man, which led back to Deanreldy on the back of Beldaruit’s sealchair…
It’s been too long since I’ve been in prolonged, close proximity to someone who wasn’t a student or peer, Beldaruit thought with a deep, stabilizing breath. He’d had a number of partners over the years, some long, some brief. His last had been brief, and several months ago, and he’d been too busy with his new students to find someone new.
Though clearly I need to, Beldaruit thought, if my mind is this distracted by one attractive man. He did not mind sleeping alone, though he enjoyed the presence of others when he worked, usually for inspiration and chatter. Unfortunately, he was alone much of the time in Ezrest, as he ensured Riliphin wasn’t trapped in this room with him, particularly while the boy was open to going out and talking with others, and Lagrah had many duties of his own to take care of.
“Have you cleaned your back today?” Deanreldy asked as he carefully let go of Beldaruit’s arm. “I can check the healing there, as well, while I’m here.”
“I did so this morning,” Beldaruit said. “And you may.” He stripped down quickly so that they could get it done with, and stayed still while Deanreldy looked him over. Despite Deanreldy’s actions, Deanreldy was still the most capable doctor known, and if Beldaruit ever wanted to leave, the man’s professionalism would get him home sooner.
“An improvement,” Deanreldy finally judged, “Though it would be even better if you got more exercise. I suppose Silver Eve was not bad for everything.”
Beldaruit scowled at that. “My back is hardly worth all the suffering that occurred.”
“Indeed,” Deanreldy said. “But we take what we can get.” He stepped back and let Beldaruit put his clothes back on. “You are angry with me now, o Wise One.”
Beldaruit didn't glare. “Do you expect me to be glad of the state you’ve left us in?” They’d barely spoken since the incident in front of the public, though requests were mounting for more magic help, and this was not Deanreldy’s first visit to check on Beldaruit afterward.
“An acknowledgement of what many with eyes to see and ears to hear would notice is hardly my fault,” Deanreldy replied. His eyes on Beldaruit’s skin felt hot. “I would have been criticized for not acknowledging your aid.” He smiled then. “Or perhaps you would prefer that? Have you witches in ascendance, and Ezrest’s seat clouded over in shame?”
“Of course not!” Beldaruit said, angry at such an accusation. “But it could have been handled more… delicately. That’s all.” Somewhere perhaps only the nobles could see, or something. With more thought, he knew that Deanreldy had been cornered, too. And it pushed aside questions about who had caused the Silver Eve disaster: namely, two witches. Although they’d been in Deanreldy’s care at the time, they were still witches. Deanreldy’s kneeling had meant that Ezrest was grateful, though, but it was a gratitude easily removed, were the public to learn that a helping hand could so easily turn to evil.
The change is still a threat of its own, Beldaruit thought as he shakily did the ties of his gown. One that we’ll have to navigate for who knows how long. If not forever.
“Would you like help, o Wise One?” Deanreldy asked, stepping closer. He’d noticed that Beldaruit was having some trouble doing all this one-handed.
“I can manage,” Beldaruit replied, though his annoyance made him take a little longer. And a brief thought of Deanreldy’s fingers on his chest again, working at Beldaruit's ties, was oddly distracting.
Foolish, Beldaruit thought. He is my doctor. I am his patient. That is all. And he is a king, on top of that. One who could make things even worse for witches everywhere if he wished.
He needed to get out of here when he could. He was weary and recovering, not up to whatever this was.
“I will visit on the morrow then,” Deanreldy said. “To check on you once more.” When Beldaruit looked up at him, about to ask why a king in a city recovering from disaster had so much free time, Deanreldy continued, “I would hate to see you in further discomfort here.”
It was said for politeness’ sake. For politics. But somehow Beldaruit noticed the man’s eyes were still on Beldaruit’s clumsy fingers.
Does he so dislike me disrobed? Beldaruit thought, annoyed. The man was certainly clingy enough when he needed to be. He’d treated the sealchair ride like a child with a bright toy.
“If you have any need of me,” Deanreldy continued, “simply call for me. I am at the Wise One’s disposal. No request is above me.”
“…Of course,” Beldaruit said. What does he think I’d ask him to do? Kneel again? The thought was embarrassing at best.
Deanreldy nodded and walked out of the room, leaving the space far emptier.
Beldaruit breathed in deeply, and went slower as he finished putting himself together. Such a strange man. He smiled bitterly. And I, stranger still, for not knowing what to do now…
He’d barely settled down when there was another knock on the door, and the guard called in, “Her Majesty, Queen Zazamaiya!”
Beldaruit sat up in surprise as the queen walked in. “Forgive me, o Wise One, coming to you when you are unwell. But my curiosity overcame me.” Zazamaiya was not as overwhelming as her husband was, and moved slowly due to her pregnancy, but she was still a bright, beautiful woman. Lagrah had spoken of her steady leadership and knowledge during Silver Eve. “I imagine you are quite lonely here, so long from your home.”
“I have companionship, Your Majesty,” Beldaruit said. “But I am always grateful for visitors.” He kept his expression friendly, but did not think for a moment that Zazamaiya was precisely less dangerous than her husband just because she was not involved much in negotiation with the witches. After all, Zazamaiya herself was a queen and a seasoned politician, and, given this extra opportunity, might try avenues to advance her people’s cause with the witches that Deanreldy hadn’t or perhaps couldn’t tackle. Plus, any person who held the affections of Deanreldy was someone to be wary of, and Beldaruit knew she was good in a tough situation.
But, although Beldaruit tried to avoid schmoozing with the nobility – that was Langah’s job, if it was anyone’s – it was hard to reject a queen. And he did miss the visitors he had in the Great Hall. He missed all the children with their curiosity and problems. Things he could solve, where magic was at his fingertips at all times… rather than sending approvals and papers off elsewhere and waiting here in a messy situation, in a castle with no magic to be had, other than that which kept it magicless. And an injured arm on top of everything else, kept controlled by pain medication and an annoying splint.
“I was wondering if you’d like to take lunch together,” Zazamaiya said. “Usually we have feasts for Silver Eve, but things being as they are, that is not the easiest. And I’m afraid most everyone else is still busy with clean-up.”
Beldaruit felt the sting there. He was not necessarily not busy just because he was not out and about. And eating lunch with the queen of Ezrest, after everything he’d been through with Deanreldy…
“I’ve been giving orders and checking on supplies all day,” Zazamaiya noted. “Trying to make sure those most in need are getting help. But I would hate to leave my guests unsupported, too, and I’ve heard you’ve been somewhat trapped in here. Although I know it is easier and safer, your recovery does not mean you should be so.”
“Your hospitality is unfailing, Your Majesty,” Beldaruit said. He knew it was unwise to cut himself off from outsiders out of paranoia, and that the witches would need all their allies in the days to come. Deanreldy was not the only source of careful support they might lean on out of necessity. “And I would be happy to take lunch with you.”
It was still a risk. But he would also not mind leaving the room for somewhere else, at least for a while. And it might make certain irritating kings leave his thoughts for a bit.
“I have a parlor with a pleasant view if you’d like to join me there?” Zazamaiya suggested with a warm smile. “If it’s still too much trouble, I can have everything brought back here to dine more comfortably.”
“I would be happy to see your parlor,” Beldaruit said, and hoped Lagrah and Vinanna didn’t get on his case about this. “But I must call a guard to carry me.” And to let Riliphin know he was out. The young man needed to know where to go to in an emergency.
“Of course,” Zazamaiya said. “I’ll send ahead for them to prepare the meal for us.”