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thrihyrneTitle: Break Open the Massive Dark
Rating: Adult (language, aruna, references to pelki)
Word count: 30,140
Pairings: Aleeme/Azriel, Aleeme/Yazdyar (OC from "Down the Whispering Well"), Azriel/Yazdyar
Disclaimer: I remain indebted to Storm Constantine's vivid and eloquent imagination for creating the beautiful, fey hara and the worlds in which they live. I'm gratefully playing in her sandbox.
Summary:
There are many casualties in the second assault on Ponclast that happens in The Shades of Time and Memory. This is a possible telling of Aleeme and Azriel's story after their liberation from Fulminir.
Author's Notes: Firstly, my huge thanks to my two betas,![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
elfscribe5 and wiebke. You have both helped tremendously in making this story as polished as it is— and thanks for pushing me to write Cal! Hopefully there aren't any mistakes, but if any remain, they're mine. My gratitude also to persephone100 for being an advance reader and for sharing your enthusiasm and thoughts. One of my original characters makes reference to a Chickasaw legend; I found the story here initially.
Drifting into wakefulness felt like slowly rising to the surface from the bottom of a lake. Aleeme suddenly thrashed around, terrified that there was ice above him; he was trapped, he couldn't breathe— he would drown if he opened his mouth to take a breath and his limbs were so heavy. He began to sink again, letting out a strangled cry despite the panic of expecting a rush of icy water to fill his lungs. He pulled in a deep breath of air, hearing an awful rattling sound that, with a shock, he realized was his own hoarse throat. There was a sound of canvas flapping, somehar muttering under his breath, approaching Aleeme at speed while with agonizing effort he forced his eyes open. He couldn't even speak, he just gaped, fish-like, his mouth opening and closing as he struggled to figure out where the hell he was, why he was lying down, the source of the glowing soft light. Something horrific had happened; it lurked patiently in Aleeme's mind, off to the side like something glimpsed in his peripheral vision, uncertain and shadowy. Whatever it was, it was really, really bad.
"Aleeme. Please look at me."
The har's voice was steady, but Aleeme could hear the worry in his tone, betraying his calm demeanor. With tremendous will, Aleeme turned his head to gaze heavy-lidded at the har standing at his bedside, clad in healer's robes. He had porcelain skin and cat-like eyes that slanted slightly upward. He seemed to be struggling with emotions that he managed to keep in check, reaching down to brush some of Aleeme's hair that had instinctively waved feebly toward him.
"Please don't try to sit up or move around," the healer said kindly. "You've done very well, but you'll still be with us for quite some time. You're safe now." He held his hands suspended above Aleeme's body, walking slowly around him, his lips moving silently.
Aleeme felt a soothing warmth in his torso when the healer passed over that area, but the sensation stopped as the har traversed above his pelvis, down his legs and up again. Not until he was above his stomach did Aleeme sense the heat and strange feeling that his blood was singing, responding to whatever energies the healer was channeling toward him. He tried to move his legs, managing only to wriggle his toes a little bit and feel a terrible ache in his inner thighs.
"What happened?" he asked the healer who had pulled up a chair and slipped his hands under the warm blankets to knead at his thigh.
The touch was professional, not at all erotic, but just as the exotic har opened his mouth to reply, Aleeme was assaulted by a memory of somehar else's fingers gripping his shoulders in a bruising hold, a battering ram of an ouana-lim slamming into him over and over as he screamed and tried to escape, only to be hit in the jaw by a hideous-looking creature—
"NO!" he shouted, shaking with the abject terror, powerless to escape as his innermost chamber was wrenched open. "YOU FUCKING BASTARD!"
Aleeme swung with his fists, screaming and screaming, trying to kick, snapping with his teeth when he felt warm hands trying to pin him down.
"AZRIEL!" he sobbed, struggling against his would-be captors like a wild thing. There was a stinging in his left thigh and an icy sensation; hara with expressions of anxiety and concern came into his line of vision as he pulled against restraints they'd managed to attach to his wrists.
"Azriel!" he choked out of a raw throat, resisting the soothing waves of energy that radiated toward him. It was a trick— Ponclast had moved him, was going to do unspeakable things to him; Aleeme was too weak to fight it. He cried, the bitter, angry tears burning his eyes as he thought about another harling starting life in him, another harling created in hate.
"Just kill me!" Aleeme raged, though his mind was getting fuzzy. "I'll die before this harling is born!" he yelled, gasping for breath. He began to feel as though his body had been filled with heavy cotton, becoming still even as he continued to struggle against whatever drug had been injected in him.
"Aleeme, you're safe," a voice said to his right; he sounded like he was trying to convince himself of that. "You're with the best healers there are. Please believe me."
Aleeme tried to spit at him, but his body no longer wanted to cooperate and instead he succeeded only in flinging spittle on his pillow. "You're with him," he moaned. "It's a trick. Azriel…" The word tasted like blood. He wheezed pitifully, clawing at consciousness, desperate to stay awake. "Ulau…"
The world went black.
* * * * *
"You've come so far," the russet-haired har said wonderingly. He seemed to glow with happiness for Aleeme, who nursed an unpleasant combination of feeling both disconcerted and useless.
"All I'm doing is sitting up and feeding myself," he retorted, but his self-deprecation appeared to wash over the healer, who continued to beam at him.
"I know! It's wonderful," he gushed.
Aleeme let out a labored sigh. "What will be wonderful is when I'm walking out of here, not plagued by nightmares both waking and asleep, and some Gelaming officer tells me they've taken Ponclast hostage and I'm free to kill him with my bare hands." The last part of his sentence was a growl, the words spat into the calm environment of the intensive care area.
A couple of weeks had passed since his first awakening. Countless times since then he'd had to be sedated, held, exorcised. His mind was a long corridor flanked with doors that went on and on; behind them were memories still too horrifying to remember, evidently, because he simply couldn't retrieve them. But he knew they were there, and the anxiety of all of the protective doors flinging open, being assaulted by actual recollection of what had happened to him while he'd been tortured and held captive in Fulminir. He feared for his tenuous sanity; surely it would be shredded to ribbons.
The sickeningly earnest har tugged on a wave of his hair. "The injuries to your legs and," he paused, presumably to judge how stable Aleeme was before continuing, "your sexual organs were quite extensive. The healers here have worked miracles, though," he said, rushing through the words to reassure him. "You can probably get out of bed in the next few days. The harish body has tremendous abilities for healing, especially second-generation hara like you and me."
Wide, blue-grey eyes gazed at Aleeme with reverence and awe, as though Aleeme were a dehar come to earth and not the battered, soul-sick wreck of a creature Aleeme knew himself to be.
"For all of your enthusiasm, I'll be blunt," Aleeme said, his words clipped and sharp, a hailstorm of broken glass. "I used to be loving. I used to be sensitive. I was brave and adored and even got along well with my chesnari's crazy family. Now the thought of aruna, of touching anyhar, even my own—" He stopped, breathing quickly, bile rising like acid in his throat. Alarm was stamped on the healer har's face. Aleeme ground out his new truth between clenched jaws.
"My own Azriel. My chesnari was forced to watch. I remember that. And you won't let me see him. You won't let me go anywhere fucking near him. And even if you did," he snarled when he saw the shocked har open his mouth to defend his actions, "I don't think I could stand it. I've been ruined. I should have died!" he shouted, reaching for the cup on his tray and hurling it across the room. "Let me see Azriel!" he thundered, seeing other healers come rushing in through the flap. "DON'T TOUCH ME!"
The healing hara encircled him, their hands linked. While Aleeme continued to rave, he began to hear a low hum of energy. It came upon him in gentle waves; compassion, healing, an inescapable knitting together of their benevolent power of goodwill into Aleeme's furious psyche. Eventually his anger dissipated, unable to keep up its assault against the tender, commanding amelioration. He was lulled into a place of harmony, and this time they didn't inject him with anything. His deeply wounded core was like a sponge, thirstily soaking up their outpourings of strength and wellness.
Then the living nightmares came to him; he pulled his knees to his chest despite the pain of regenerated muscles and began rocking, moaning into his knees, his lunch tray sliding to the floor with a loud clatter. The healer who'd first been with him disengaged from the circle to join Aleeme on his bed, taking him in his arms as the other hara re-formed their chain of protection. Aleeme was in the past: he saw himself on the putrid bed, moonlight streaming in over his distended belly, the pathetic mewling of the famished harling he'd hosted making him go mad. For all he knew, Azriel was suffering worse than he was, or had escaped further torture and had already died…
Aleeme sobbed and sobbed, his body wracked with anguish, remembering everything in ruthless detail. He cried into the firm hold of the healing har with his kind face and hawkish nose until his throat burned and his chest felt as though he'd been used as a harish punching bag. Exhaustion without any sense of true relief filled his limbs with lead; his tongue was thick in his mouth. He grimaced as he licked his lips, discovering the metallic taste of blood where they'd cracked open.
"You can see him," the har he clung to said unabashedly. "But you should know, he's still unresponsive. Maybe you can reach him— you may be the only har who can. The hara who specialize in severe trauma have been doing all that they can, but after an initial recovery, he retreated far, far within himself. I just don't want you to suffer any more shocks. You can wait as long as you want before you decide to see Azriel."
Aleeme continued to clutch at his aching legs, grateful that the healer wasn't sugarcoating his chesnari's condition. He also appreciated that he was being rocked gently in the har's arms, that his narrow fingers kneaded soothing patterns on his back as his breathing slowly returned to normal. With an unspoken signal, the other healers disbanded, though their potent energy shimmered in the air for a few moments before fading like lambent mist. At last he was again alone with the healer, who'd begun humming a lyric melody under his breath.
"What's your name? You seem young," Aleeme said, far past any point of self-censoring.
The har snorted a laugh; Aleeme's mouth twitched in a botched attempt at a smile.
"I'm Yazdyar. And yeah, I look a bit younger than some, but I'm probably your age. I've matured a lot due to what I've seen here," he said soberly, carding his fingers through Aleeme's hair.
Aleeme could feel the tendrils swaying minutely, the Colurastes part of him struggling for movement. He was suddenly curious about this no longer naïve har who wasn't much older than he was chronologically. He felt as though he'd aged a lifetime since he and Azriel had been taken prisoner and suffered through extremes of physical and psychological pain that he'd have believed impossible to endure.
"What's your background?" he asked.
"Very mixed." A faint flush rose in his cheeks and down his neck as Aleeme noticed the smattering of freckles across his nose and cheekbones. "I'm Ferelithian, but my hostling and his chesnari came from Castlegar, here in Megalithica."
"Castlegar," Aleeme repeated. "Part of Varrish territory?"
"No, they're further south. Tried to keep to themselves, but in the early days, especially, they paid a tribute of sorts to the Varrs, sending them information and swearing oaths to send any human males who could be incepted straight to them— and killing anyone else."
Aleeme nodded; it was old history. "Have you gone to visit Castlegar since you've come to Megalithica?"
"Not yet," Yazdyar admitted. "We've been run ragged since we were told to get here as quickly as possible, and to plan to stay for an indefinite time."
He sounded pensive. Aleeme glanced up at his face as he wiped his nose on his tunic when he realized it was still running from his breakdown and crying fit.
"Azriel's father is a Varr," Aleeme murmured. "His hostling came from Saltrock. His highfather was originally Sulh, but essentially Varr, despite that. Azriel's mixed, too, like me. Like us." He gave Yazdyar a watery smile, feeling shaky and as though the peace he'd felt was only shifting sand, washing away with an outgoing tide.
Yazdyar pulled Aleeme more closely into the bower of his embrace. "Firethorn — my hostling — his parents were from an ancient human tribe in Megalithica, ancient even in human terms." He shook his head ruefully. "I'm just a Ferelithian who loves to dance and go skinny dipping in the bay when the waters are warm. But I also discovered that I was drawn to helping hara feel better, so my parents encouraged me to apply for a position in the healing center in Immanion. And now here I am." He placed a chaste kiss on the crown of Aleeme's head. "I'm really worried about taking you to see Azriel. I don't want to see you go through any more torments that you've experienced since Calanthe har Aralis rescued you, don't want to trigger them. I know you don't remember, because we had to put you out in a type of auric coma while your body was healing, but I've spent a lot of time with you."
Aleeme pulled back to look into Yazdyar's face, seeing worry in his eyes. "You're right, I don't remember. But thank you anyway." He shifted back into Yazdyar's arms and the healer made a contented noise. "Speaking of family, has Swift or Seel come to see me or Azriel?"
There was a pause, then Yazdyar said quietly, "We didn't allow them to. Now that your recovery has come so far, I can ask the head of the intensive care contingency, and he can alert them if you wish."
Aleeme considered it, his feelings of fear and apprehension fluttering in his stomach like agitated moths. "No, not yet. But I'm ready to go to Azriel."
"You haven't even tried standing on your own yet!" Yazdyar chided him sweetly.
"I'll lean on you. Or you can get me a rolling chair if my legs aren't strong enough," Aleeme said, his rare mulish tendencies coming to the fore.
"Jerizel will absolutely kill me if I do anything that causes you pain or hinders your progress," Yazdyar insisted, but he allowed Aleeme to ease out of his arms and edge back against the headboard. Yazdyar stood, pulling the covers down so that Aleeme's legs were exposed. Aleeme was assaulted by a memory, one of the last moments of lucidity he'd had before he'd cursed Ponclast and then prayed for death as consciousness had left him. The second pearl, the agony of birthing it, alone in his own filth on the bed, feeling his soume-lam rupture like rotted fruit…
He vomited up the contents of his recent lunch, heaving over the side of the bed, retching until his stomach was empty. Yazdyar was making soothing noises, holding his hair out of his face and wiping at his mouth.
"Sorry," Aleeme croaked as he saw he'd thrown up onto the healer's shoes.
"Don't you even think about apologizing," Yazdyar said briskly, helping Aleeme again to a seated position and tucking the sheets and bed coverings around him. "I'll get a cloth and some water for you to rinse your mouth."
Aleeme waited dutifully with a sinking feeling in his sore gut. After that moment of losing his self-control, he knew he wasn't going anywhere. A junior aide came rushing in, blowing past Yazdyar as he came to join Aleeme on the bed. The floor was cleaned of the mess and sterilized while Aleeme gratefully let the Ferelithian wash his face with a warm, damp cloth scented with invigorating lemon. He rinsed his mouth and Yazdyar gave him a mint leaf to chew on. After chewing for a little while, Aleeme spit the flavorful leaf bits back into the cup the healer proffered. Once he'd thanked the aide, who dashed off to his next assignment, Yazdyar took his place next to Aleeme, drawing out a comb, of all things, from a pocket of his robes.
"You probably know what I'm going to say," Yazdyar said, the apology infused in his tone.
"I'm not going anywhere quite yet."
The healer nodded. "I've told you everything I know, and we'll get you up and walking as soon as you're up to it."
Aleeme leaned into the healer's touch as his hair was combed out.
"I'd like to bring in a tub so you can get a hot bath, too," Yazdar went on. "I can either supervise or do the cleaning myself. We've taken care of you, of course," he said hurriedly, but Aleeme already knew he didn't stink, so they must have at least been giving him sponge baths since he'd been liberated. A bath, with somehar else washing him sounded like heaven.
"Of course. I'd love it if you'd wash me."
Gratitude settled on Yazdyar's features; he looked as though he'd been awarded a medal. "Marvelous." He put the comb back into his pocket, peering tentatively at Aleeme. "Do you want to tell me what caused the sudden upset? Was it a flashback?"
Aleeme nodded, nausea threatening once more. "I don't know how much Cal told you," he said, the bitterness returning to his voice even though he didn't mean to take it out on Yazdyar, who'd been nothing but kind and sympathetic to him. "I was forced to breed. The first abomination survived. The second—" Knots twisted in his chest; he had an inexplicable urge to scour out his soume-lam with acid, if it had been healed at all. "When I expelled the second one, I knew I was dying. Seeing my legs just now, spindly and… and…"
He took a deep, shuddering breath. Yazdyar was murmuring words in a language Aleeme didn't recognize, but he could sense they were to protect and soothe him. "How healed am I?" he asked, the question smothered against Yazdyar's shoulder, his auburn waves tickling along Aleeme's cheek.
"Well, physically you're nearly back to a complete recovery. There are still so many mysteries about harish reproduction, though. You may not be able to host a pearl again," he said softly.
Aleeme could tell Yazdyar was waiting to gauge his reaction. "Never would be far too soon for that," he said, his voice strained.
"I have a friend— he was a close friend of my hostling and father. He suffered a different kind of trauma, and he's barren."
"Should I be feeling better with this story?" Aleeme snapped, unable to stop himself. "If so, it's not working."
"No, no," Yazdyar said, continuing to rub tenderly at Aleeme's taut frame. "I mean, I guess so. His name is Vaysh, he's the Tigron's personal assistant. Anyway, he and I have a rapport, I guess you'd call it. I'm no hienama, but I have done some specialty work in arunic healing. Later, ages from now when you're up and about and you've been able to come to terms with some of what's happened, well, I'd like to continue on with your personal care. But we'll cross that bridge once we get there."
Trepidation coursed down Aleeme's spine. He shivered, his mind beginning to race with panic at the thought of anyhar anywhere near his groin. It was a repulsive proposition, even if Azriel were to walk through the door, his face lit up and the juices of his beckoning soume-lam glistening between his thighs.
"Not yet," Aleeme said hoarsely, his voice cracking.
"No, beautiful," Yazdyar promised, breathing across Aleeme's face so that he caught wisps of images: warm waters, a lazy sun, being held and cherished. "I think you should rest now. I'll bring in the tub before your evening meal, okay?"
Aleeme nodded. On so many levels, he felt as if he wanted to bolt, still afraid this was another trick. Yazdyar looked knowingly at him; Aleeme didn't doubt that he was listening to his thoughts on some level.
"Would it help if I brought somebody else you know to see you?" Yazdyar asked, gently untangling himself as Aleeme scooted back under the covers and curled into a ball. "The Tigron is still recuperating from his own serious injuries, but Moon, his sori… you knew him reasonably well, correct?"
Aleeme made an affirmative noise.
"Would it give you some peace of mind if he came to visit?"
Moon, Aleeme thought for a moment, visualizing his young face, and remembering a night of wild aruna in Forever, him and Moon and Azriel. A hint of a smile settled on his lips. "It would. It's just hard for me to trust— anyhar."
Yazdyar massaged at Aleeme's scalp for a few moments before he said, "I don't take it personally. We'll start your physical therapy tomorrow, and try to get you on two feet again as quickly as you're able. Does that sound good?"
"Yes. Thank you."
"Okay. If you need me, at any hour, and I really mean that, you can contact me via mind-touch, or there's a chime that will wake me if there's a lot of disturbance in your bed. I'm attuned to you, as well."
Aleeme gazed at the har, so stunning in his own exotic features, and realized just how much of himself Yazdyar had put into caring for him while he'd been unconscious. "Is somehar like you taking care of Azriel?" he asked plaintively.
"I've been looking after him as well, but he's become Jerizel's primary focus. Jerizel has had many successes; he's determined to bring Azriel back. Personally, I think it will take the voice and touch of somehar he knows well." He scratched at his forearm, his expressive face disconsolate. "My focus is you, first and foremost, but your chesnari's not far behind."
"That's reassuring," Aleeme said without irony.
"I hope so."
After Yazdyar had left the room, Aleeme found he couldn't sleep. Temporarily, anyway, he wasn't brooding and he wasn't plagued by visions and remembered atrocities. For now, that was enough.
* * * * *
It took four days, but at last Aleeme could stand, and walk, as long as he could hold on to Yazdyar's arm for support. They'd made a few laps around his pavilion until Aleeme begged to go somewhere, anywhere outside of his intensive care tent.
"Oh! That reminds me," Yazdyar enthused, slowly leading Aleeme toward the flap of his room which presumably led to the rest of the healing tents. "I've been telling Jerizel about your progress, and he says we can move you. Out of critical care," he clarified, fixing another of his beaming smiles on Aleeme. This time Aleeme returned the smile, even if he imagined his didn't radiate quite like the Ferelithian's did.
"So where will I go?" Aleeme asked as they stepped through the canvas flap. Then he lost the ability to speak. He knew they were in Galhea, at a temporary Imbrilim of sorts where the healing pavilions still stood. What he hadn't expected was how few there were. It seemed nearly deserted, as though only a remnant remained behind, a temporary ghost town. He stumbled, crashing into Yazdyar, who caught him effortlessly. Aleeme had lost a lot of weight. It had been difficult to keep much food down until the last couple of days.
"Most of the injured hara have been returned to their homes or to Immanion for further healing," Yazdyar hastily explained, having picked up on Aleeme's distress. "This ties into the answer to your question. You still have much healing to do, but I've spoken with Jerizel, Tseenath and my other colleagues. They all agree that you're strong enough now to travel by sedu."
"To Immanion?" Aleeme asked in alarm. "I'm not going anywhere without Azriel."
"I wouldn't dream of separating you," Yazdyar said, obviously trying to allay one of Aleeme's deepest fears. "Speaking of, he's in that pavilion over there. Do you feel strong enough to walk over?"
"Yes." Aleeme turned, staring deliberately at Yazdyar, daring him to say they needed to turn back.
"You're so brave," Yazdyar breathed, putting his hand on top of Aleeme's which rested in the crook of the healer's elbow. "One day, when you've recovered and are settling into a new life, I'll tell you just how scared I was for you, how determined I was to exhaust every bit of healing knowledge I'd ever been taught to pull you back from the brink of death."
"Why?" Aleeme asked as he hobbled, putting one foot in front of the other to make his way to his chesnari. His stomach was full of butterflies; he couldn't concentrate. "Why me, I mean?"
Yazdyar shrugged, a fluid gesture. He was compelling, with slightly bronzed skin and freckles, his dark red hair tending to fall into messy waves. He was a har ruled by honesty and thoughtfulness.
"Sometimes a har just speaks to your spirit, calls out in a way. You were in no position to communicate, but I was drawn to you, simple as that. Are you tired? Would you like to take a rest?"
"No." Aleeme vigorously shook his head. "I need to see him with my own eyes and to hold him."
They walked in silence as they approached the pavilion. Aleeme was conscious of the sun's rays on his face, of a slight breeze that caressed his skin. "Can we bring him outside?" he asked, stumbling over the words. "It's nice out."
"He may be outside already, actually." Yazdyar's brows furrowed and he paused, closing his eyes to concentrate. Aleeme hung on his arm, frustrated, just wanting to see how bad the situation was with his chesnari. But if he himself had been snatched from death's jaws, surely Azriel, with harish healer experts, would be able to recuperate fully…
"He's in his chair, in the shade facing some trees," Yazdyar reported, and then they were off again. "To answer your earlier question, I'd rather have you in Ferelithia than Immanion. Is that at all appealing? We're less stuffy, and I think that the environment would be more relaxing for you and Azriel, both. You could live with me— I have a couple of spare rooms, and Immanion's only a hop and jump from there. We could all go for long walks, get you used to riding… did you ride horses before?"
Aleeme was poised to answer when they rounded the corner of the tent. Azriel sat perfectly still in a wheeled chair, gazing off toward a copse of aspens. With a cry, Aleeme tried to bolt over to him and fell crashing to the ground after a few paces, his traitorous legs giving way underneath him.
"Here, let me help." Yazdyar's arms were under Aleeme's armpits, hoisting him up with practiced efficiency. "He's not going anywhere. Let's just walk for now, okay?"
Aleeme couldn't form words. He was a maelstrom of emotions, all careening wildly in his chest. His pulse raced and he felt short of breath as he approached, his eyes fixed on his lover. Once at his side, Aleeme crumpled into a heap on the ground, holding on to Azriel's leg and leaning his head against his skin. Yazdyar stood a short distance away in a respectful silence as Aleeme clutched at Azriel's leg, trying to get his feelings under control. After long minutes he turned his head to look up at his chesnari, who now looked down at him with a vacant smile. Aleeme felt as though a knife had been plunged into his heart.
"What's wrong?" Azriel asked. "You're beautiful, you shouldn't look so sad."
"Sweet Ag," he choked out, grabbing a hold of the chair's armrest to try and pull himself to a standing position. Yazdyar was at his side in a flash, assisting him.
"I can get you a chair so you can sit next to him, or in front of him if you'd like," the healer said. "I'll be right back with one."
Mutely Aleeme nodded. He was in a state of abject shock. Out of long habit he reached out to Azriel in mind-touch, recoiling physically when he was met with near-emptiness. There was an echo of Azriel's vibrant personality, a note dying away at the end of a symphony that had been his chesnari's spirit. He was eased into a chair right across from him. Aleeme was barely aware of Yazdyar's hands making sure he was seated comfortably, and his murmurings of encouragement as he placed Aleeme's hands in Azriel's. Aleeme was surprised to find Azriel's fingers were warm.
"He's still there," Aleeme whispered, trying to believe it himself. "A sliver. Just barely, but he's not totally gone, he can't be," he said. Tears spilled over and ran down his cheeks. With angry jerks he used his shoulders to wipe at his eyes. "Dammit Azriel, if I survived, you have to! You can't leave me now, not after everything that happened…"
He squeezed Azriel's hands and Azriel squeezed back, but it was obvious his attentions were unfocused, scattered around a mostly vacant shell of his mind. He didn't react to his name, and didn't remember Aleeme's. Aleeme made a broken, anguished sound. He turned to look at his healer and saw concern etched on Yazdyar's features. "Can we go to Ferelithia now?" he asked through syrupy hiccoughs. "I want to get him out of here. I need to get away from here, I can't bear it, gods. Yazdyar, please!" He clenched Azriel's hands, only stopping when he saw his chesnari wince, though there was still no recognition in his eyes. "Take us away. I have to make him better, I have to bring him back."
Aleeme's voice faltered and he sat crying unabashedly at the injustice of it all. Dignity was a concept he'd surrendered after his first moments of waking terror. Now he wore his emotions on his sleeve, and he didn't care what anyhar thought as he veered from one emotional extreme to another. Besides, Yazdyar continued to suggest to him to express everything he felt without holding back.
Yazdyar gently prised Aleeme out of the chair, enfolding him in a firm hug. "We can go soon, but given yours and Azriel's conditions, it wouldn't be wise to do so on the spur of the moment. Why don't you get some rest, and I'll visit Jerizel. He or Tseenath can contact Vaysh, or Tharmifex in regards to getting a couple of sedim sent over from Immanion. Maybe we'll have access to one or two here. Jerizel can escort Azriel and you'll go with me. The Otherlanes can be quite disorienting— are you absolutely sure you think you're up for it? I know you're in shock," he said quietly, a hand rubbing on his back. "And don't forget, Moon will be here this evening, so I wouldn't plan for us to leave until tomorrow at the earliest."
"Oh. Right. I forgot," Aleeme said sheepishly, feeling a pang of guilt that he'd been so overcome by seeing Azriel that Moon's visit had completely flown out of his mind. He sniffed, nodding his thanks. The Ferelithian rummaged through his healer's robes and produced a handkerchief.
"It's my professional opinion that you should lean on me and return to your bed to rest up a bit," Yazdyar said, holding out his elbow for Aleeme to take hold. "We do have some books around, and I've been receiving the Ferelithian newsprint, such as it is. I don't know if you'd be able to concentrate or not, but the newsprint would give you an idea of the local flavor before you temporarily relocate."
Aleeme glanced over his shoulder at Azriel, sitting as still as he had before. "Can he move into my room?" he asked suddenly. "Maybe it would help if we were sleeping in the same bed again."
Yazdyar's look was almost comical. His narrow eyebrows shot up his forehead, his slate-colored eyes wide as saucers.
"Um, well, I guess so," he said thoughtfully as his face relaxed. "I should ask Jerizel first, but if you think you'd be able to handle it, that's not a bad idea." The healer pondered Aleeme's suggestion as they slowly made their way back to the pavilion where Aleeme's tent was. "Maybe if he smells you, and spends time next to you, that flame of self-recognition will burn a bit brighter. But Aleeme, I don't want you to get your hopes up, and think that one night in your arms is going to make him okay."
"I don't," Aleeme said, glowering and instantly defensive. "But I don't see how it could hurt."
"It wouldn't hurt him," Yazdyar said just as quickly. "But it could negatively affect your emotional state. I probably don't need to point this out to you, but you're pretty fragile. You're in my care, and I won't allow your tenuous hold on your well-being to be torn apart with unrealistic expectations."
"Ag knows I'm not going to try and roon him to bring him back," Aleeme snapped as Yazdyar lifted the flap to Aleeme's quarters.
"Oh Aleeme, I know," Yazdyar said heavily. "I do think aruna will help him, but not yet. Besides, we don't know how you'll react to seeing Moon. Let's wait to decide about moving Azriel until after the visit."
Grudgingly, Aleeme agreed. He spent the next couple of hours glancing through the Ferelithian newspaper and dozing off. It was the sprightly aide who came to get him for dinner, and Aleeme was afraid the young har would try to pull him along as he scurried from place to place. Yazdyar must have been quite specific in his directions, however, because the aide didn't rush Aleeme at all. Aleeme sat down inside the dining hall pavilion at one of the tables where the few healers ate, taking a place next to Yazdyar. He'd nearly finished his meal when there was a change in the air and the sound of a horse galloping. Its whinnies and snorts sounded almost like equine laughter; it was the distinctive arrival of a sedu.
"Moon!" Aleeme exclaimed, dropping his fork.
Azriel was at a nearby table, dutifully eating but otherwise uncommunicative. Aleeme was excited and apprehensive, and he tried to quell his nervousness while awkwardly moving his legs to get up from the table. He'd righted himself into a standing position, still holding on to Yazdyar's shoulder when the flap to the hall was flung open and two hara stepped through. Moon scanned the room until he saw Aleeme, at which point he let out a small cry. Aleeme smiled as Moon raced over, his own focus snagged by the exquisite har who hovered in the doorway, wearing traveling leathers instead of his usual flowing robes.
Cobweb.
He looked like a beautiful statue, his attentions locked on Azriel, who chewed on some bread, oblivious to the other har's intense gaze.
"Aleeme, sweet Ag, I can't believe it," Moon said, gripping Aleeme's arms so tightly Aleeme knew he'd be bruised. Moon's eyes were bright as he stared until the tears came and he hugged Aleeme to him, murmuring things like: "Thought you were dead," and "Not allowed to see you," and "You're a miracle."
"Cobweb came with you," Aleeme stated, breathing in the shadowy scent of apple in Moon's hair.
Moon took a couple of deep breaths and eased away so he could look Aleeme in the face and give him a shaky smile. "Yeah. He wanted to see Azriel, even though he knows—" He paused, the smile sliding from his lips, which began to tremble. Moon was struggling, Aleeme could tell, but he gulped a couple of times and then said, "He knows Azriel's still damaged."
"We're doing everything we can, believe me."
Yazdyar's proclamation seemed to take Moon by surprise.
"Are you a healer?" he asked, incredulous.
"Well done."
A smile tripped across Aleeme's lips at the slightly snide tone in the healer's voice; he'd never heard it before.
"Moon, this is Yazdyar. Be nice to him; he's the har who's taken me on as his most important patient. He's put up with me and done the impossible, helping me recover. He should be made a dehar or something saintly."
Yazdyar laughed, a mellow sound that resonated behind Aleeme, but then the healer stepped around him to approach Moon. He laid his hand on his heart and bowed his head slightly, which appeared to mollify the young har.
"I love what I do, even though sometimes it breaks my heart," Yazdyar said, his eyes flickering over to Azriel.
Moon and Aleeme looked as well, seeing Cobweb murmuring in his highharling's ear, his elegant fingers sweeping gently through his long hair. Azriel seemed oblivious, though he didn't pull away either. He sat calmly like a dog being groomed.
Aleeme watched Moon's face as sorrow overtook him. Eventually he turned back to Aleeme and Yazdyar. "Is it okay if we talk, alone?" he asked the healer, who nodded.
"Of course. As you're well aware, Aleeme was nearly dead a few weeks ago. Please be judicious in what you discuss."
"I still get nightmares, and day-visions that are just like being there," Aleeme said. "They may never go away completely. I have a few things to ask you, though, and I want you to fill me in on what's been going on."
Moon nodded, his expression solemn. "There's a lot to tell."
"If anything happens, or if you need me, I'll be right there," Yazdyar promised. "Nice to meet you," he said warmly to Moon, resting his hand on his shoulder before walking over to Azriel and his striking high hostling.
"He's stunning," Moon said under his breath.
Aleeme's ankle wobbled and he grabbed onto Moon's arm to steady himself.
"I guess so," he replied.
Moon gave him a skeptical look.
"Okay, I noticed. It's those mixed-tribe backgrounds; we make such beautiful hara."
Moon snorted at that as Aleeme went on. "Yazdyar is Ferelithian. We — Azriel and I — are going to go there with him to recuperate. I think it'll be a more welcoming environment than Immanion. He has arunic training too, apparently."
Moon's eyes sparkled with intrigue. "Lucky you."
Aleeme grew serious. "Moon, you saw what state I was in when Calanthe got me out of Fulminir."
Moon winced and began to look ill.
"Don't go there, not even in memory," Aleeme pleaded. "It's worse for me, remembering it. C'mon, let's go to my tent. Anyway, Yazdyar says I'm healed, that my ouana-lim and soume-lam are functional, though I'll probably never host a pearl again. But the thought of any of it is pretty repulsive. It'll be slow going, any aruna activities. Though I guess my body will crave it sooner rather than later, no matter what my mind says."
He held onto Moon's arm as they neared his tent. Somewhat tentatively Moon said, "You don't think you'll want to be with Azriel again? I can't imagine not wanting Tyson."
Aleeme felt the weight of his torture and how, having survived it, he felt so different from the hara he'd been before. He doubted that anyhar who'd been involved with the war against Ponclast was unscathed, but a few of them were obviously more traumatized than others.
"Maybe in the future— I really hope so. Even from our first time at my feybraiha, taking aruna with Azriel has never been boring."
"I'm so sorry for what happened," Moon said, sounding so despairing that Aleeme felt the need to give him a reassuring pat on the arm.
"I am, too. Tell me about some good things, and I'm sure I'll have questions for you."
* * * * *
Later that evening, Moon had gone, but Aleeme wasn't quite ready to summon Yazdyar to him. He was caught up imagining how it would feel to kill Ponclast himself, or see him sentenced to a lifetime in a special hell devised specifically by the Gelaming. He couldn't believe that the Tigron, that Pellaz had sent him off into the aethers and some isolated world. There was no justice in that, no salve for Aleeme.
"He should have been made to suffer," he ground out, his jaw clenched and a headache starting to throb at his temple.
Aleeme? Is it okay if I bring Azriel over now? Yazdyar asked via mind-touch, interrupting Aleeme's dark and malcontented thoughts.
Fine.
There was a pause and then Yazdyar reached again, cautiously asking, Are you certain? It can be another day.
Yes. I don't care right now if he recognizes me or not, I want him next to me. You, too, he said without thinking.
Aleeme was about to backpedal from his rather presumptuous comment when there was a rustling at the door to his pavilion and Yazdyar walked in, guiding Azriel with a hand behind his back and grinning widely.
"I thought you'd never ask!" he gushed.
Aleeme couldn't help but smile in return. "Don't be too excited," he drawled. "This won't be a roonfest or anything."
"No, that'll come later."
Aleeme fixed Yazdyar with a skeptical look. "Much later," he said.
For a moment he wondered if there were multiple layers of meaning to what the healer had said, then dismissed it as fanciful on his part. Yazdyar was certainly a warm-hearted har, but he was also professional.
"It may be sooner than you think. Your body will begin to crave aruna. It's part of our lifeblood, as you know. Without it, we become husks of ourselves, dry and hollow; decimated. Here— do you think you could massage Azriel's upper back for a little bit? He really enjoys that."
It took all of Aleeme's self-control not to yell that of course he fucking knew that, they were chesna. He knew every in and out of Azriel's likes and dislikes. He knew how to make his beautiful olivine eyes roll back into his head, what his favorite childhood memory was… Aleeme stopped himself. When Azriel did come back, he might be different. A dreadful wave of sadness buffeted through him and he held Azriel from behind, burying his face against the juncture of his neck and shoulder, hands clasped around his abdomen. Azriel made a contented noise and put his own hands on top of Aleeme's, tilting his head as Aleeme nuzzled into the soft skin, baptizing his neck with tears.
"I think sheh is in order before bed," Yazdyar said quietly but firmly.
Aleeme had been so engrossed in the sensations of holding his chesnari again that he'd nearly forgotten the healer was in the room. "I could use a drink," he said, nosing reverently through Azriel's silky hair.
"And I'd be a poor healer if I weren't treating you in the most holistic way possible. You just do what feels natural and right. I won't be gone long."
Yazdyar ran his hand along the wing of Aleeme's left shoulder blade and placed a chaste kiss on the back of his head. "You're doing so well," he murmured. "I can't wait to bring you to Ferelithia, and to introduce you to my father and hostling. Azriel, too. My hostling may have skills from his former human tribe that will help him. Anyway, I'll be back with some sheh, three glasses, and my pyjamas."
Aleeme made a grunt of assent, allowing himself to be suspended in a moment of peace. He listened to Azriel sigh with pleasure as he intertwined their fingers together and Aleeme whispered promises of his unwavering devotion. It seemed that no time had passed at all before Yazdyar reappeared, and situated Azriel on the bed. They all sat cross-legged, sipping the sheh. Azriel pressed his fingers to his lips after a couple of mouthfuls, as though they'd become numb. Aleeme ran his fingers through his hair, quirking a smile at him.
"You always were a lightweight," he said, glancing at Yazdyar, who seemed quite adept at holding his liquor. "Which is ridiculous, given your parentage. Even Cobweb can put it away, and he's as insubstantial as moonlight. Unless he's pissed off at you."
The alcohol danced in Aleeme's veins; he was ready to lie down with both hara, to sleep with the reassuring warmth of Yazdyar behind him, and Azriel at his chest.
"Lee?"
Aleeme stopped breathing. Azriel sounded so distant, so lost. He looked down into his glass as Aleeme and Yazdyar stared at him, and then poured the rest down his throat. Azriel spluttered, wiped the back of his hand across his lips, and put the glass away from him in distaste. All at once he threw his hands in front of his face and rubbed at his wrists, seemingly surprised that nothing was on them. Slowly he looked at Yazdyar, and then over to Aleeme.
"Azriel?" Aleeme asked hesitantly, not wanting to get his hopes up, and yet, of course, desperately hoping that he'd broken through some self-imposed wall. He splayed his fingers on Azriel's knee, rested them there.
Azriel looked defeated, beaten to his core. He shook his head, and then covered his face with his hands, starting to cry with silent tears. Aleeme couldn't bear it; he pulled Azriel to him so that he lay on his side, his head tucked under Aleeme's own. After a while, Aleeme realized that the lights were out, the glasses gone, and the covers had been pulled over them. Behind him, Yazdyar also had a presence in the bed. Aleeme sagged against his chest, reassured to feel the healer's arm enfold both him and his chesnari.
"Sleep, beautiful," Yazdyar said quietly. "We'll talk tomorrow."
continue to part two
Rating: Adult (language, aruna, references to pelki)
Word count: 30,140
Pairings: Aleeme/Azriel, Aleeme/Yazdyar (OC from "Down the Whispering Well"), Azriel/Yazdyar
Disclaimer: I remain indebted to Storm Constantine's vivid and eloquent imagination for creating the beautiful, fey hara and the worlds in which they live. I'm gratefully playing in her sandbox.
Summary:
- Now language escape, fugitive of forgiveness
Leaving as trace only circles of rust
There are many casualties in the second assault on Ponclast that happens in The Shades of Time and Memory. This is a possible telling of Aleeme and Azriel's story after their liberation from Fulminir.
Author's Notes: Firstly, my huge thanks to my two betas,
elfscribe5 and wiebke. You have both helped tremendously in making this story as polished as it is— and thanks for pushing me to write Cal! Hopefully there aren't any mistakes, but if any remain, they're mine. My gratitude also to persephone100 for being an advance reader and for sharing your enthusiasm and thoughts. One of my original characters makes reference to a Chickasaw legend; I found the story here initially.Drifting into wakefulness felt like slowly rising to the surface from the bottom of a lake. Aleeme suddenly thrashed around, terrified that there was ice above him; he was trapped, he couldn't breathe— he would drown if he opened his mouth to take a breath and his limbs were so heavy. He began to sink again, letting out a strangled cry despite the panic of expecting a rush of icy water to fill his lungs. He pulled in a deep breath of air, hearing an awful rattling sound that, with a shock, he realized was his own hoarse throat. There was a sound of canvas flapping, somehar muttering under his breath, approaching Aleeme at speed while with agonizing effort he forced his eyes open. He couldn't even speak, he just gaped, fish-like, his mouth opening and closing as he struggled to figure out where the hell he was, why he was lying down, the source of the glowing soft light. Something horrific had happened; it lurked patiently in Aleeme's mind, off to the side like something glimpsed in his peripheral vision, uncertain and shadowy. Whatever it was, it was really, really bad.
"Aleeme. Please look at me."
The har's voice was steady, but Aleeme could hear the worry in his tone, betraying his calm demeanor. With tremendous will, Aleeme turned his head to gaze heavy-lidded at the har standing at his bedside, clad in healer's robes. He had porcelain skin and cat-like eyes that slanted slightly upward. He seemed to be struggling with emotions that he managed to keep in check, reaching down to brush some of Aleeme's hair that had instinctively waved feebly toward him.
"Please don't try to sit up or move around," the healer said kindly. "You've done very well, but you'll still be with us for quite some time. You're safe now." He held his hands suspended above Aleeme's body, walking slowly around him, his lips moving silently.
Aleeme felt a soothing warmth in his torso when the healer passed over that area, but the sensation stopped as the har traversed above his pelvis, down his legs and up again. Not until he was above his stomach did Aleeme sense the heat and strange feeling that his blood was singing, responding to whatever energies the healer was channeling toward him. He tried to move his legs, managing only to wriggle his toes a little bit and feel a terrible ache in his inner thighs.
"What happened?" he asked the healer who had pulled up a chair and slipped his hands under the warm blankets to knead at his thigh.
The touch was professional, not at all erotic, but just as the exotic har opened his mouth to reply, Aleeme was assaulted by a memory of somehar else's fingers gripping his shoulders in a bruising hold, a battering ram of an ouana-lim slamming into him over and over as he screamed and tried to escape, only to be hit in the jaw by a hideous-looking creature—
"NO!" he shouted, shaking with the abject terror, powerless to escape as his innermost chamber was wrenched open. "YOU FUCKING BASTARD!"
Aleeme swung with his fists, screaming and screaming, trying to kick, snapping with his teeth when he felt warm hands trying to pin him down.
"AZRIEL!" he sobbed, struggling against his would-be captors like a wild thing. There was a stinging in his left thigh and an icy sensation; hara with expressions of anxiety and concern came into his line of vision as he pulled against restraints they'd managed to attach to his wrists.
"Azriel!" he choked out of a raw throat, resisting the soothing waves of energy that radiated toward him. It was a trick— Ponclast had moved him, was going to do unspeakable things to him; Aleeme was too weak to fight it. He cried, the bitter, angry tears burning his eyes as he thought about another harling starting life in him, another harling created in hate.
"Just kill me!" Aleeme raged, though his mind was getting fuzzy. "I'll die before this harling is born!" he yelled, gasping for breath. He began to feel as though his body had been filled with heavy cotton, becoming still even as he continued to struggle against whatever drug had been injected in him.
"Aleeme, you're safe," a voice said to his right; he sounded like he was trying to convince himself of that. "You're with the best healers there are. Please believe me."
Aleeme tried to spit at him, but his body no longer wanted to cooperate and instead he succeeded only in flinging spittle on his pillow. "You're with him," he moaned. "It's a trick. Azriel…" The word tasted like blood. He wheezed pitifully, clawing at consciousness, desperate to stay awake. "Ulau…"
The world went black.
* * * * *
"You've come so far," the russet-haired har said wonderingly. He seemed to glow with happiness for Aleeme, who nursed an unpleasant combination of feeling both disconcerted and useless.
"All I'm doing is sitting up and feeding myself," he retorted, but his self-deprecation appeared to wash over the healer, who continued to beam at him.
"I know! It's wonderful," he gushed.
Aleeme let out a labored sigh. "What will be wonderful is when I'm walking out of here, not plagued by nightmares both waking and asleep, and some Gelaming officer tells me they've taken Ponclast hostage and I'm free to kill him with my bare hands." The last part of his sentence was a growl, the words spat into the calm environment of the intensive care area.
A couple of weeks had passed since his first awakening. Countless times since then he'd had to be sedated, held, exorcised. His mind was a long corridor flanked with doors that went on and on; behind them were memories still too horrifying to remember, evidently, because he simply couldn't retrieve them. But he knew they were there, and the anxiety of all of the protective doors flinging open, being assaulted by actual recollection of what had happened to him while he'd been tortured and held captive in Fulminir. He feared for his tenuous sanity; surely it would be shredded to ribbons.
The sickeningly earnest har tugged on a wave of his hair. "The injuries to your legs and," he paused, presumably to judge how stable Aleeme was before continuing, "your sexual organs were quite extensive. The healers here have worked miracles, though," he said, rushing through the words to reassure him. "You can probably get out of bed in the next few days. The harish body has tremendous abilities for healing, especially second-generation hara like you and me."
Wide, blue-grey eyes gazed at Aleeme with reverence and awe, as though Aleeme were a dehar come to earth and not the battered, soul-sick wreck of a creature Aleeme knew himself to be.
"For all of your enthusiasm, I'll be blunt," Aleeme said, his words clipped and sharp, a hailstorm of broken glass. "I used to be loving. I used to be sensitive. I was brave and adored and even got along well with my chesnari's crazy family. Now the thought of aruna, of touching anyhar, even my own—" He stopped, breathing quickly, bile rising like acid in his throat. Alarm was stamped on the healer har's face. Aleeme ground out his new truth between clenched jaws.
"My own Azriel. My chesnari was forced to watch. I remember that. And you won't let me see him. You won't let me go anywhere fucking near him. And even if you did," he snarled when he saw the shocked har open his mouth to defend his actions, "I don't think I could stand it. I've been ruined. I should have died!" he shouted, reaching for the cup on his tray and hurling it across the room. "Let me see Azriel!" he thundered, seeing other healers come rushing in through the flap. "DON'T TOUCH ME!"
The healing hara encircled him, their hands linked. While Aleeme continued to rave, he began to hear a low hum of energy. It came upon him in gentle waves; compassion, healing, an inescapable knitting together of their benevolent power of goodwill into Aleeme's furious psyche. Eventually his anger dissipated, unable to keep up its assault against the tender, commanding amelioration. He was lulled into a place of harmony, and this time they didn't inject him with anything. His deeply wounded core was like a sponge, thirstily soaking up their outpourings of strength and wellness.
Then the living nightmares came to him; he pulled his knees to his chest despite the pain of regenerated muscles and began rocking, moaning into his knees, his lunch tray sliding to the floor with a loud clatter. The healer who'd first been with him disengaged from the circle to join Aleeme on his bed, taking him in his arms as the other hara re-formed their chain of protection. Aleeme was in the past: he saw himself on the putrid bed, moonlight streaming in over his distended belly, the pathetic mewling of the famished harling he'd hosted making him go mad. For all he knew, Azriel was suffering worse than he was, or had escaped further torture and had already died…
Aleeme sobbed and sobbed, his body wracked with anguish, remembering everything in ruthless detail. He cried into the firm hold of the healing har with his kind face and hawkish nose until his throat burned and his chest felt as though he'd been used as a harish punching bag. Exhaustion without any sense of true relief filled his limbs with lead; his tongue was thick in his mouth. He grimaced as he licked his lips, discovering the metallic taste of blood where they'd cracked open.
"You can see him," the har he clung to said unabashedly. "But you should know, he's still unresponsive. Maybe you can reach him— you may be the only har who can. The hara who specialize in severe trauma have been doing all that they can, but after an initial recovery, he retreated far, far within himself. I just don't want you to suffer any more shocks. You can wait as long as you want before you decide to see Azriel."
Aleeme continued to clutch at his aching legs, grateful that the healer wasn't sugarcoating his chesnari's condition. He also appreciated that he was being rocked gently in the har's arms, that his narrow fingers kneaded soothing patterns on his back as his breathing slowly returned to normal. With an unspoken signal, the other healers disbanded, though their potent energy shimmered in the air for a few moments before fading like lambent mist. At last he was again alone with the healer, who'd begun humming a lyric melody under his breath.
"What's your name? You seem young," Aleeme said, far past any point of self-censoring.
The har snorted a laugh; Aleeme's mouth twitched in a botched attempt at a smile.
"I'm Yazdyar. And yeah, I look a bit younger than some, but I'm probably your age. I've matured a lot due to what I've seen here," he said soberly, carding his fingers through Aleeme's hair.
Aleeme could feel the tendrils swaying minutely, the Colurastes part of him struggling for movement. He was suddenly curious about this no longer naïve har who wasn't much older than he was chronologically. He felt as though he'd aged a lifetime since he and Azriel had been taken prisoner and suffered through extremes of physical and psychological pain that he'd have believed impossible to endure.
"What's your background?" he asked.
"Very mixed." A faint flush rose in his cheeks and down his neck as Aleeme noticed the smattering of freckles across his nose and cheekbones. "I'm Ferelithian, but my hostling and his chesnari came from Castlegar, here in Megalithica."
"Castlegar," Aleeme repeated. "Part of Varrish territory?"
"No, they're further south. Tried to keep to themselves, but in the early days, especially, they paid a tribute of sorts to the Varrs, sending them information and swearing oaths to send any human males who could be incepted straight to them— and killing anyone else."
Aleeme nodded; it was old history. "Have you gone to visit Castlegar since you've come to Megalithica?"
"Not yet," Yazdyar admitted. "We've been run ragged since we were told to get here as quickly as possible, and to plan to stay for an indefinite time."
He sounded pensive. Aleeme glanced up at his face as he wiped his nose on his tunic when he realized it was still running from his breakdown and crying fit.
"Azriel's father is a Varr," Aleeme murmured. "His hostling came from Saltrock. His highfather was originally Sulh, but essentially Varr, despite that. Azriel's mixed, too, like me. Like us." He gave Yazdyar a watery smile, feeling shaky and as though the peace he'd felt was only shifting sand, washing away with an outgoing tide.
Yazdyar pulled Aleeme more closely into the bower of his embrace. "Firethorn — my hostling — his parents were from an ancient human tribe in Megalithica, ancient even in human terms." He shook his head ruefully. "I'm just a Ferelithian who loves to dance and go skinny dipping in the bay when the waters are warm. But I also discovered that I was drawn to helping hara feel better, so my parents encouraged me to apply for a position in the healing center in Immanion. And now here I am." He placed a chaste kiss on the crown of Aleeme's head. "I'm really worried about taking you to see Azriel. I don't want to see you go through any more torments that you've experienced since Calanthe har Aralis rescued you, don't want to trigger them. I know you don't remember, because we had to put you out in a type of auric coma while your body was healing, but I've spent a lot of time with you."
Aleeme pulled back to look into Yazdyar's face, seeing worry in his eyes. "You're right, I don't remember. But thank you anyway." He shifted back into Yazdyar's arms and the healer made a contented noise. "Speaking of family, has Swift or Seel come to see me or Azriel?"
There was a pause, then Yazdyar said quietly, "We didn't allow them to. Now that your recovery has come so far, I can ask the head of the intensive care contingency, and he can alert them if you wish."
Aleeme considered it, his feelings of fear and apprehension fluttering in his stomach like agitated moths. "No, not yet. But I'm ready to go to Azriel."
"You haven't even tried standing on your own yet!" Yazdyar chided him sweetly.
"I'll lean on you. Or you can get me a rolling chair if my legs aren't strong enough," Aleeme said, his rare mulish tendencies coming to the fore.
"Jerizel will absolutely kill me if I do anything that causes you pain or hinders your progress," Yazdyar insisted, but he allowed Aleeme to ease out of his arms and edge back against the headboard. Yazdyar stood, pulling the covers down so that Aleeme's legs were exposed. Aleeme was assaulted by a memory, one of the last moments of lucidity he'd had before he'd cursed Ponclast and then prayed for death as consciousness had left him. The second pearl, the agony of birthing it, alone in his own filth on the bed, feeling his soume-lam rupture like rotted fruit…
He vomited up the contents of his recent lunch, heaving over the side of the bed, retching until his stomach was empty. Yazdyar was making soothing noises, holding his hair out of his face and wiping at his mouth.
"Sorry," Aleeme croaked as he saw he'd thrown up onto the healer's shoes.
"Don't you even think about apologizing," Yazdyar said briskly, helping Aleeme again to a seated position and tucking the sheets and bed coverings around him. "I'll get a cloth and some water for you to rinse your mouth."
Aleeme waited dutifully with a sinking feeling in his sore gut. After that moment of losing his self-control, he knew he wasn't going anywhere. A junior aide came rushing in, blowing past Yazdyar as he came to join Aleeme on the bed. The floor was cleaned of the mess and sterilized while Aleeme gratefully let the Ferelithian wash his face with a warm, damp cloth scented with invigorating lemon. He rinsed his mouth and Yazdyar gave him a mint leaf to chew on. After chewing for a little while, Aleeme spit the flavorful leaf bits back into the cup the healer proffered. Once he'd thanked the aide, who dashed off to his next assignment, Yazdyar took his place next to Aleeme, drawing out a comb, of all things, from a pocket of his robes.
"You probably know what I'm going to say," Yazdyar said, the apology infused in his tone.
"I'm not going anywhere quite yet."
The healer nodded. "I've told you everything I know, and we'll get you up and walking as soon as you're up to it."
Aleeme leaned into the healer's touch as his hair was combed out.
"I'd like to bring in a tub so you can get a hot bath, too," Yazdar went on. "I can either supervise or do the cleaning myself. We've taken care of you, of course," he said hurriedly, but Aleeme already knew he didn't stink, so they must have at least been giving him sponge baths since he'd been liberated. A bath, with somehar else washing him sounded like heaven.
"Of course. I'd love it if you'd wash me."
Gratitude settled on Yazdyar's features; he looked as though he'd been awarded a medal. "Marvelous." He put the comb back into his pocket, peering tentatively at Aleeme. "Do you want to tell me what caused the sudden upset? Was it a flashback?"
Aleeme nodded, nausea threatening once more. "I don't know how much Cal told you," he said, the bitterness returning to his voice even though he didn't mean to take it out on Yazdyar, who'd been nothing but kind and sympathetic to him. "I was forced to breed. The first abomination survived. The second—" Knots twisted in his chest; he had an inexplicable urge to scour out his soume-lam with acid, if it had been healed at all. "When I expelled the second one, I knew I was dying. Seeing my legs just now, spindly and… and…"
He took a deep, shuddering breath. Yazdyar was murmuring words in a language Aleeme didn't recognize, but he could sense they were to protect and soothe him. "How healed am I?" he asked, the question smothered against Yazdyar's shoulder, his auburn waves tickling along Aleeme's cheek.
"Well, physically you're nearly back to a complete recovery. There are still so many mysteries about harish reproduction, though. You may not be able to host a pearl again," he said softly.
Aleeme could tell Yazdyar was waiting to gauge his reaction. "Never would be far too soon for that," he said, his voice strained.
"I have a friend— he was a close friend of my hostling and father. He suffered a different kind of trauma, and he's barren."
"Should I be feeling better with this story?" Aleeme snapped, unable to stop himself. "If so, it's not working."
"No, no," Yazdyar said, continuing to rub tenderly at Aleeme's taut frame. "I mean, I guess so. His name is Vaysh, he's the Tigron's personal assistant. Anyway, he and I have a rapport, I guess you'd call it. I'm no hienama, but I have done some specialty work in arunic healing. Later, ages from now when you're up and about and you've been able to come to terms with some of what's happened, well, I'd like to continue on with your personal care. But we'll cross that bridge once we get there."
Trepidation coursed down Aleeme's spine. He shivered, his mind beginning to race with panic at the thought of anyhar anywhere near his groin. It was a repulsive proposition, even if Azriel were to walk through the door, his face lit up and the juices of his beckoning soume-lam glistening between his thighs.
"Not yet," Aleeme said hoarsely, his voice cracking.
"No, beautiful," Yazdyar promised, breathing across Aleeme's face so that he caught wisps of images: warm waters, a lazy sun, being held and cherished. "I think you should rest now. I'll bring in the tub before your evening meal, okay?"
Aleeme nodded. On so many levels, he felt as if he wanted to bolt, still afraid this was another trick. Yazdyar looked knowingly at him; Aleeme didn't doubt that he was listening to his thoughts on some level.
"Would it help if I brought somebody else you know to see you?" Yazdyar asked, gently untangling himself as Aleeme scooted back under the covers and curled into a ball. "The Tigron is still recuperating from his own serious injuries, but Moon, his sori… you knew him reasonably well, correct?"
Aleeme made an affirmative noise.
"Would it give you some peace of mind if he came to visit?"
Moon, Aleeme thought for a moment, visualizing his young face, and remembering a night of wild aruna in Forever, him and Moon and Azriel. A hint of a smile settled on his lips. "It would. It's just hard for me to trust— anyhar."
Yazdyar massaged at Aleeme's scalp for a few moments before he said, "I don't take it personally. We'll start your physical therapy tomorrow, and try to get you on two feet again as quickly as you're able. Does that sound good?"
"Yes. Thank you."
"Okay. If you need me, at any hour, and I really mean that, you can contact me via mind-touch, or there's a chime that will wake me if there's a lot of disturbance in your bed. I'm attuned to you, as well."
Aleeme gazed at the har, so stunning in his own exotic features, and realized just how much of himself Yazdyar had put into caring for him while he'd been unconscious. "Is somehar like you taking care of Azriel?" he asked plaintively.
"I've been looking after him as well, but he's become Jerizel's primary focus. Jerizel has had many successes; he's determined to bring Azriel back. Personally, I think it will take the voice and touch of somehar he knows well." He scratched at his forearm, his expressive face disconsolate. "My focus is you, first and foremost, but your chesnari's not far behind."
"That's reassuring," Aleeme said without irony.
"I hope so."
After Yazdyar had left the room, Aleeme found he couldn't sleep. Temporarily, anyway, he wasn't brooding and he wasn't plagued by visions and remembered atrocities. For now, that was enough.
* * * * *
It took four days, but at last Aleeme could stand, and walk, as long as he could hold on to Yazdyar's arm for support. They'd made a few laps around his pavilion until Aleeme begged to go somewhere, anywhere outside of his intensive care tent.
"Oh! That reminds me," Yazdyar enthused, slowly leading Aleeme toward the flap of his room which presumably led to the rest of the healing tents. "I've been telling Jerizel about your progress, and he says we can move you. Out of critical care," he clarified, fixing another of his beaming smiles on Aleeme. This time Aleeme returned the smile, even if he imagined his didn't radiate quite like the Ferelithian's did.
"So where will I go?" Aleeme asked as they stepped through the canvas flap. Then he lost the ability to speak. He knew they were in Galhea, at a temporary Imbrilim of sorts where the healing pavilions still stood. What he hadn't expected was how few there were. It seemed nearly deserted, as though only a remnant remained behind, a temporary ghost town. He stumbled, crashing into Yazdyar, who caught him effortlessly. Aleeme had lost a lot of weight. It had been difficult to keep much food down until the last couple of days.
"Most of the injured hara have been returned to their homes or to Immanion for further healing," Yazdyar hastily explained, having picked up on Aleeme's distress. "This ties into the answer to your question. You still have much healing to do, but I've spoken with Jerizel, Tseenath and my other colleagues. They all agree that you're strong enough now to travel by sedu."
"To Immanion?" Aleeme asked in alarm. "I'm not going anywhere without Azriel."
"I wouldn't dream of separating you," Yazdyar said, obviously trying to allay one of Aleeme's deepest fears. "Speaking of, he's in that pavilion over there. Do you feel strong enough to walk over?"
"Yes." Aleeme turned, staring deliberately at Yazdyar, daring him to say they needed to turn back.
"You're so brave," Yazdyar breathed, putting his hand on top of Aleeme's which rested in the crook of the healer's elbow. "One day, when you've recovered and are settling into a new life, I'll tell you just how scared I was for you, how determined I was to exhaust every bit of healing knowledge I'd ever been taught to pull you back from the brink of death."
"Why?" Aleeme asked as he hobbled, putting one foot in front of the other to make his way to his chesnari. His stomach was full of butterflies; he couldn't concentrate. "Why me, I mean?"
Yazdyar shrugged, a fluid gesture. He was compelling, with slightly bronzed skin and freckles, his dark red hair tending to fall into messy waves. He was a har ruled by honesty and thoughtfulness.
"Sometimes a har just speaks to your spirit, calls out in a way. You were in no position to communicate, but I was drawn to you, simple as that. Are you tired? Would you like to take a rest?"
"No." Aleeme vigorously shook his head. "I need to see him with my own eyes and to hold him."
They walked in silence as they approached the pavilion. Aleeme was conscious of the sun's rays on his face, of a slight breeze that caressed his skin. "Can we bring him outside?" he asked, stumbling over the words. "It's nice out."
"He may be outside already, actually." Yazdyar's brows furrowed and he paused, closing his eyes to concentrate. Aleeme hung on his arm, frustrated, just wanting to see how bad the situation was with his chesnari. But if he himself had been snatched from death's jaws, surely Azriel, with harish healer experts, would be able to recuperate fully…
"He's in his chair, in the shade facing some trees," Yazdyar reported, and then they were off again. "To answer your earlier question, I'd rather have you in Ferelithia than Immanion. Is that at all appealing? We're less stuffy, and I think that the environment would be more relaxing for you and Azriel, both. You could live with me— I have a couple of spare rooms, and Immanion's only a hop and jump from there. We could all go for long walks, get you used to riding… did you ride horses before?"
Aleeme was poised to answer when they rounded the corner of the tent. Azriel sat perfectly still in a wheeled chair, gazing off toward a copse of aspens. With a cry, Aleeme tried to bolt over to him and fell crashing to the ground after a few paces, his traitorous legs giving way underneath him.
"Here, let me help." Yazdyar's arms were under Aleeme's armpits, hoisting him up with practiced efficiency. "He's not going anywhere. Let's just walk for now, okay?"
Aleeme couldn't form words. He was a maelstrom of emotions, all careening wildly in his chest. His pulse raced and he felt short of breath as he approached, his eyes fixed on his lover. Once at his side, Aleeme crumpled into a heap on the ground, holding on to Azriel's leg and leaning his head against his skin. Yazdyar stood a short distance away in a respectful silence as Aleeme clutched at Azriel's leg, trying to get his feelings under control. After long minutes he turned his head to look up at his chesnari, who now looked down at him with a vacant smile. Aleeme felt as though a knife had been plunged into his heart.
"What's wrong?" Azriel asked. "You're beautiful, you shouldn't look so sad."
"Sweet Ag," he choked out, grabbing a hold of the chair's armrest to try and pull himself to a standing position. Yazdyar was at his side in a flash, assisting him.
"I can get you a chair so you can sit next to him, or in front of him if you'd like," the healer said. "I'll be right back with one."
Mutely Aleeme nodded. He was in a state of abject shock. Out of long habit he reached out to Azriel in mind-touch, recoiling physically when he was met with near-emptiness. There was an echo of Azriel's vibrant personality, a note dying away at the end of a symphony that had been his chesnari's spirit. He was eased into a chair right across from him. Aleeme was barely aware of Yazdyar's hands making sure he was seated comfortably, and his murmurings of encouragement as he placed Aleeme's hands in Azriel's. Aleeme was surprised to find Azriel's fingers were warm.
"He's still there," Aleeme whispered, trying to believe it himself. "A sliver. Just barely, but he's not totally gone, he can't be," he said. Tears spilled over and ran down his cheeks. With angry jerks he used his shoulders to wipe at his eyes. "Dammit Azriel, if I survived, you have to! You can't leave me now, not after everything that happened…"
He squeezed Azriel's hands and Azriel squeezed back, but it was obvious his attentions were unfocused, scattered around a mostly vacant shell of his mind. He didn't react to his name, and didn't remember Aleeme's. Aleeme made a broken, anguished sound. He turned to look at his healer and saw concern etched on Yazdyar's features. "Can we go to Ferelithia now?" he asked through syrupy hiccoughs. "I want to get him out of here. I need to get away from here, I can't bear it, gods. Yazdyar, please!" He clenched Azriel's hands, only stopping when he saw his chesnari wince, though there was still no recognition in his eyes. "Take us away. I have to make him better, I have to bring him back."
Aleeme's voice faltered and he sat crying unabashedly at the injustice of it all. Dignity was a concept he'd surrendered after his first moments of waking terror. Now he wore his emotions on his sleeve, and he didn't care what anyhar thought as he veered from one emotional extreme to another. Besides, Yazdyar continued to suggest to him to express everything he felt without holding back.
Yazdyar gently prised Aleeme out of the chair, enfolding him in a firm hug. "We can go soon, but given yours and Azriel's conditions, it wouldn't be wise to do so on the spur of the moment. Why don't you get some rest, and I'll visit Jerizel. He or Tseenath can contact Vaysh, or Tharmifex in regards to getting a couple of sedim sent over from Immanion. Maybe we'll have access to one or two here. Jerizel can escort Azriel and you'll go with me. The Otherlanes can be quite disorienting— are you absolutely sure you think you're up for it? I know you're in shock," he said quietly, a hand rubbing on his back. "And don't forget, Moon will be here this evening, so I wouldn't plan for us to leave until tomorrow at the earliest."
"Oh. Right. I forgot," Aleeme said sheepishly, feeling a pang of guilt that he'd been so overcome by seeing Azriel that Moon's visit had completely flown out of his mind. He sniffed, nodding his thanks. The Ferelithian rummaged through his healer's robes and produced a handkerchief.
"It's my professional opinion that you should lean on me and return to your bed to rest up a bit," Yazdyar said, holding out his elbow for Aleeme to take hold. "We do have some books around, and I've been receiving the Ferelithian newsprint, such as it is. I don't know if you'd be able to concentrate or not, but the newsprint would give you an idea of the local flavor before you temporarily relocate."
Aleeme glanced over his shoulder at Azriel, sitting as still as he had before. "Can he move into my room?" he asked suddenly. "Maybe it would help if we were sleeping in the same bed again."
Yazdyar's look was almost comical. His narrow eyebrows shot up his forehead, his slate-colored eyes wide as saucers.
"Um, well, I guess so," he said thoughtfully as his face relaxed. "I should ask Jerizel first, but if you think you'd be able to handle it, that's not a bad idea." The healer pondered Aleeme's suggestion as they slowly made their way back to the pavilion where Aleeme's tent was. "Maybe if he smells you, and spends time next to you, that flame of self-recognition will burn a bit brighter. But Aleeme, I don't want you to get your hopes up, and think that one night in your arms is going to make him okay."
"I don't," Aleeme said, glowering and instantly defensive. "But I don't see how it could hurt."
"It wouldn't hurt him," Yazdyar said just as quickly. "But it could negatively affect your emotional state. I probably don't need to point this out to you, but you're pretty fragile. You're in my care, and I won't allow your tenuous hold on your well-being to be torn apart with unrealistic expectations."
"Ag knows I'm not going to try and roon him to bring him back," Aleeme snapped as Yazdyar lifted the flap to Aleeme's quarters.
"Oh Aleeme, I know," Yazdyar said heavily. "I do think aruna will help him, but not yet. Besides, we don't know how you'll react to seeing Moon. Let's wait to decide about moving Azriel until after the visit."
Grudgingly, Aleeme agreed. He spent the next couple of hours glancing through the Ferelithian newspaper and dozing off. It was the sprightly aide who came to get him for dinner, and Aleeme was afraid the young har would try to pull him along as he scurried from place to place. Yazdyar must have been quite specific in his directions, however, because the aide didn't rush Aleeme at all. Aleeme sat down inside the dining hall pavilion at one of the tables where the few healers ate, taking a place next to Yazdyar. He'd nearly finished his meal when there was a change in the air and the sound of a horse galloping. Its whinnies and snorts sounded almost like equine laughter; it was the distinctive arrival of a sedu.
"Moon!" Aleeme exclaimed, dropping his fork.
Azriel was at a nearby table, dutifully eating but otherwise uncommunicative. Aleeme was excited and apprehensive, and he tried to quell his nervousness while awkwardly moving his legs to get up from the table. He'd righted himself into a standing position, still holding on to Yazdyar's shoulder when the flap to the hall was flung open and two hara stepped through. Moon scanned the room until he saw Aleeme, at which point he let out a small cry. Aleeme smiled as Moon raced over, his own focus snagged by the exquisite har who hovered in the doorway, wearing traveling leathers instead of his usual flowing robes.
Cobweb.
He looked like a beautiful statue, his attentions locked on Azriel, who chewed on some bread, oblivious to the other har's intense gaze.
"Aleeme, sweet Ag, I can't believe it," Moon said, gripping Aleeme's arms so tightly Aleeme knew he'd be bruised. Moon's eyes were bright as he stared until the tears came and he hugged Aleeme to him, murmuring things like: "Thought you were dead," and "Not allowed to see you," and "You're a miracle."
"Cobweb came with you," Aleeme stated, breathing in the shadowy scent of apple in Moon's hair.
Moon took a couple of deep breaths and eased away so he could look Aleeme in the face and give him a shaky smile. "Yeah. He wanted to see Azriel, even though he knows—" He paused, the smile sliding from his lips, which began to tremble. Moon was struggling, Aleeme could tell, but he gulped a couple of times and then said, "He knows Azriel's still damaged."
"We're doing everything we can, believe me."
Yazdyar's proclamation seemed to take Moon by surprise.
"Are you a healer?" he asked, incredulous.
"Well done."
A smile tripped across Aleeme's lips at the slightly snide tone in the healer's voice; he'd never heard it before.
"Moon, this is Yazdyar. Be nice to him; he's the har who's taken me on as his most important patient. He's put up with me and done the impossible, helping me recover. He should be made a dehar or something saintly."
Yazdyar laughed, a mellow sound that resonated behind Aleeme, but then the healer stepped around him to approach Moon. He laid his hand on his heart and bowed his head slightly, which appeared to mollify the young har.
"I love what I do, even though sometimes it breaks my heart," Yazdyar said, his eyes flickering over to Azriel.
Moon and Aleeme looked as well, seeing Cobweb murmuring in his highharling's ear, his elegant fingers sweeping gently through his long hair. Azriel seemed oblivious, though he didn't pull away either. He sat calmly like a dog being groomed.
Aleeme watched Moon's face as sorrow overtook him. Eventually he turned back to Aleeme and Yazdyar. "Is it okay if we talk, alone?" he asked the healer, who nodded.
"Of course. As you're well aware, Aleeme was nearly dead a few weeks ago. Please be judicious in what you discuss."
"I still get nightmares, and day-visions that are just like being there," Aleeme said. "They may never go away completely. I have a few things to ask you, though, and I want you to fill me in on what's been going on."
Moon nodded, his expression solemn. "There's a lot to tell."
"If anything happens, or if you need me, I'll be right there," Yazdyar promised. "Nice to meet you," he said warmly to Moon, resting his hand on his shoulder before walking over to Azriel and his striking high hostling.
"He's stunning," Moon said under his breath.
Aleeme's ankle wobbled and he grabbed onto Moon's arm to steady himself.
"I guess so," he replied.
Moon gave him a skeptical look.
"Okay, I noticed. It's those mixed-tribe backgrounds; we make such beautiful hara."
Moon snorted at that as Aleeme went on. "Yazdyar is Ferelithian. We — Azriel and I — are going to go there with him to recuperate. I think it'll be a more welcoming environment than Immanion. He has arunic training too, apparently."
Moon's eyes sparkled with intrigue. "Lucky you."
Aleeme grew serious. "Moon, you saw what state I was in when Calanthe got me out of Fulminir."
Moon winced and began to look ill.
"Don't go there, not even in memory," Aleeme pleaded. "It's worse for me, remembering it. C'mon, let's go to my tent. Anyway, Yazdyar says I'm healed, that my ouana-lim and soume-lam are functional, though I'll probably never host a pearl again. But the thought of any of it is pretty repulsive. It'll be slow going, any aruna activities. Though I guess my body will crave it sooner rather than later, no matter what my mind says."
He held onto Moon's arm as they neared his tent. Somewhat tentatively Moon said, "You don't think you'll want to be with Azriel again? I can't imagine not wanting Tyson."
Aleeme felt the weight of his torture and how, having survived it, he felt so different from the hara he'd been before. He doubted that anyhar who'd been involved with the war against Ponclast was unscathed, but a few of them were obviously more traumatized than others.
"Maybe in the future— I really hope so. Even from our first time at my feybraiha, taking aruna with Azriel has never been boring."
"I'm so sorry for what happened," Moon said, sounding so despairing that Aleeme felt the need to give him a reassuring pat on the arm.
"I am, too. Tell me about some good things, and I'm sure I'll have questions for you."
* * * * *
Later that evening, Moon had gone, but Aleeme wasn't quite ready to summon Yazdyar to him. He was caught up imagining how it would feel to kill Ponclast himself, or see him sentenced to a lifetime in a special hell devised specifically by the Gelaming. He couldn't believe that the Tigron, that Pellaz had sent him off into the aethers and some isolated world. There was no justice in that, no salve for Aleeme.
"He should have been made to suffer," he ground out, his jaw clenched and a headache starting to throb at his temple.
Aleeme? Is it okay if I bring Azriel over now? Yazdyar asked via mind-touch, interrupting Aleeme's dark and malcontented thoughts.
Fine.
There was a pause and then Yazdyar reached again, cautiously asking, Are you certain? It can be another day.
Yes. I don't care right now if he recognizes me or not, I want him next to me. You, too, he said without thinking.
Aleeme was about to backpedal from his rather presumptuous comment when there was a rustling at the door to his pavilion and Yazdyar walked in, guiding Azriel with a hand behind his back and grinning widely.
"I thought you'd never ask!" he gushed.
Aleeme couldn't help but smile in return. "Don't be too excited," he drawled. "This won't be a roonfest or anything."
"No, that'll come later."
Aleeme fixed Yazdyar with a skeptical look. "Much later," he said.
For a moment he wondered if there were multiple layers of meaning to what the healer had said, then dismissed it as fanciful on his part. Yazdyar was certainly a warm-hearted har, but he was also professional.
"It may be sooner than you think. Your body will begin to crave aruna. It's part of our lifeblood, as you know. Without it, we become husks of ourselves, dry and hollow; decimated. Here— do you think you could massage Azriel's upper back for a little bit? He really enjoys that."
It took all of Aleeme's self-control not to yell that of course he fucking knew that, they were chesna. He knew every in and out of Azriel's likes and dislikes. He knew how to make his beautiful olivine eyes roll back into his head, what his favorite childhood memory was… Aleeme stopped himself. When Azriel did come back, he might be different. A dreadful wave of sadness buffeted through him and he held Azriel from behind, burying his face against the juncture of his neck and shoulder, hands clasped around his abdomen. Azriel made a contented noise and put his own hands on top of Aleeme's, tilting his head as Aleeme nuzzled into the soft skin, baptizing his neck with tears.
"I think sheh is in order before bed," Yazdyar said quietly but firmly.
Aleeme had been so engrossed in the sensations of holding his chesnari again that he'd nearly forgotten the healer was in the room. "I could use a drink," he said, nosing reverently through Azriel's silky hair.
"And I'd be a poor healer if I weren't treating you in the most holistic way possible. You just do what feels natural and right. I won't be gone long."
Yazdyar ran his hand along the wing of Aleeme's left shoulder blade and placed a chaste kiss on the back of his head. "You're doing so well," he murmured. "I can't wait to bring you to Ferelithia, and to introduce you to my father and hostling. Azriel, too. My hostling may have skills from his former human tribe that will help him. Anyway, I'll be back with some sheh, three glasses, and my pyjamas."
Aleeme made a grunt of assent, allowing himself to be suspended in a moment of peace. He listened to Azriel sigh with pleasure as he intertwined their fingers together and Aleeme whispered promises of his unwavering devotion. It seemed that no time had passed at all before Yazdyar reappeared, and situated Azriel on the bed. They all sat cross-legged, sipping the sheh. Azriel pressed his fingers to his lips after a couple of mouthfuls, as though they'd become numb. Aleeme ran his fingers through his hair, quirking a smile at him.
"You always were a lightweight," he said, glancing at Yazdyar, who seemed quite adept at holding his liquor. "Which is ridiculous, given your parentage. Even Cobweb can put it away, and he's as insubstantial as moonlight. Unless he's pissed off at you."
The alcohol danced in Aleeme's veins; he was ready to lie down with both hara, to sleep with the reassuring warmth of Yazdyar behind him, and Azriel at his chest.
"Lee?"
Aleeme stopped breathing. Azriel sounded so distant, so lost. He looked down into his glass as Aleeme and Yazdyar stared at him, and then poured the rest down his throat. Azriel spluttered, wiped the back of his hand across his lips, and put the glass away from him in distaste. All at once he threw his hands in front of his face and rubbed at his wrists, seemingly surprised that nothing was on them. Slowly he looked at Yazdyar, and then over to Aleeme.
"Azriel?" Aleeme asked hesitantly, not wanting to get his hopes up, and yet, of course, desperately hoping that he'd broken through some self-imposed wall. He splayed his fingers on Azriel's knee, rested them there.
Azriel looked defeated, beaten to his core. He shook his head, and then covered his face with his hands, starting to cry with silent tears. Aleeme couldn't bear it; he pulled Azriel to him so that he lay on his side, his head tucked under Aleeme's own. After a while, Aleeme realized that the lights were out, the glasses gone, and the covers had been pulled over them. Behind him, Yazdyar also had a presence in the bed. Aleeme sagged against his chest, reassured to feel the healer's arm enfold both him and his chesnari.
"Sleep, beautiful," Yazdyar said quietly. "We'll talk tomorrow."
continue to part two