Chapter 20: Ache

They've been chatting for over an hour now, conversation weaving this way and that without effort. The day is warm, holding the anticipated promise of summer's heat behind the refreshing spring breeze. The air is perfumed with the scent of flowers and greenery, stronger now than ever before. There's an undercurrent of fresh mulch and turned dirt that reminds Emrys of working for his dinner in his family's vegetable garden.

It's a perfect spring day. Under other circumstances, this is the type of weather Emrys would take advantage of for more rigorous training and tests of his abilities: longer distance runs, harder archery targets, complicated sword maneuvers, beating his time on the family obstacle course.

As it is, Emrys is still forbidden from doing anything so difficult. And honestly, he really doesn't think his shoulder could handle it. He could do simpler exercises with the sword, and he has on occasion, but it's more challenging than he'd prefer. Practicing alone has been demoralizing, to say the least. When Archimedes returns, he hopes they can work together again. The godkin is more than beautiful enough to soothe the ache, both emotional and physical.

He hasn't tried drawing his bow yet. Part of him doesn't want to risk finding out how badly his aim has suffered from going without so long. Or how difficult the draw will be, if he can manage it at all.

Luckily, Emrys has Aesind to distract him from that melancholy. The fountain in the garden is flowing again for the season. Aesind's suggestion to sit by it and dip their feet into the cold water is one Emrys jumped on immediately.

The fountain stands not too far from the main garden entrance. It has a large, round basin that holds about two feet of water when filled. Two smaller basins overflowing with running water are propped up on raised tiers stand tall at the center, all topped with a statue of a figure posed like a ballerina, one leg extended with toes pointed and arms splayed to the sky. Water sprays from each extended palm into the bottom layer far below. The fountain's edge is thick enough to sit comfortably, even if the marble is cold despite the sunny weather.

The water is icy, and it's definitely too early to really enjoy it properly, but it's plenty distracting. Especially with Aesind sparkling away in the sun's rays with his billowing sleeves tied at the elbow and the ties on the neck of it hanging loose and his trouser legs rolled to the knee. It's the most exposed he's ever been, and Emrys is doing a shitty job of not staring.

"So he says to me," Aesind continues, gesturing wide with both hands, "and I quote, ‘My dear, if you apply yourself, you could be great some day.'" His voice goes comically deep as he mocks the long-gone suitor. He makes a dramatic, exaggerated frown at Emrys. "‘With my help, of course, your potential wouldn't be so wasted.'"

Emrys barks a laugh, leaning back on his good hand. "What a gracious offer. Which I'm guessing you accepted, teary eyed and oh-so grateful."

"Oh, such a gracious offer," Aesind says with a grin. "Swept me right up, he did. We know I love an arrogant old man who's looking for a submissive bride."

"Tell me, how hard did you bite him for that?" Emrys asks. He crosses his submerged feet at the ankle, sloshing water at Aesind's exposed shins.

Aesind reaches down and retaliates by flicking water at Emrys's face with his fingertips. When Emrys flinches back with a playful scowl, he laughs, bright and musical, "I didn't have to. Archimedes chased him off."

"What a hero."

"Mm, indeed." Aesind sighs wistfully. He gazes upwards at the fountain's statue, still smiling but thoughtful. "It was before... everything, you know, with the false options and the current nonsense. I think he meant it sincerely, for how horrible he was. He thought that's what I -- and what we -- want in a suitor, someone to guide and teach us."

Emrys hums in thought. He traces Aesind's pretty profile. He's got a fair idea of what Aesind and Archimedes don't want in a suitor: arrogance, ignorance, poor manners, impatience, incurious nature, and so forth.

The political nature of this entire song and dance is strange to Emrys. As his mother's eldest son, he has the expectation of choosing a partner and having children one day, too. It isn't required, but it is a tradition Emrys looks forward to. Caring for his younger brothers and cousins has always been his chosen role in the family. Even as a child, he pictured his adult self as following in his parents' footsteps with children of his own.

He almost had it, too. Years ago, the opportunity slipped right through Emrys's fingers. Part of him still wonders if he should've held on tighter, but another part knows, without a doubt, that Dahlia would have resented him for it. Deep down, she would never have forgiven him. Letting her go was the right choice.

Wanting someone new feels like it's healing some piece of Emrys that was, until now, still bleeding freely. If only he could want someone within his reach.

He doesn't even know what they're looking for, for fuck's sake. He knows what they don't want, but what do they want in a suitor? What would make someone stand out as the right choice?

Gradually, Emrys realizes Aesind is staring back. Pretty lips are parted in surprise. Emrys's own are closing as though he's been speaking aloud.

Color rushes to Emrys's face. He straightens and blurts, "I apologize. That's your business, not mine. You don't have to say if you'd rather keep it to yourself."

"No, it's fine," Aesind replies, brow knitting in confusion as he watches Emrys try and fail to contain himself. "It isn't as though it's a secret. We're friends." Aesind glances away as though following a sound in the distance. "I don't mind telling you what we're looking for."

"Could be useful, anyways," Emrys says awkwardly. He shrugs as Aesind turns back to him. "To know. I'm keeping an eye on things, so -- if someone does something particularly good, you'd want to know that, too, right?"

He cringes internally. The last thing he really wants is to help these suitors win Aesind over. The idea makes his stomach churn violently. But he wants Aesind and Archimedes to be happy. That's all that really matters at the end of all this. If they're satisfied with their chosen suitor, Emrys will be pleased enough to let go. It's all that matters.

"That's true."

Emrys refocuses on Aesind. His words almost sounded like a sigh. Tired, wistful. And his eyes, too, seem tired. They've been entertaining suitors unsuccessfully for well over a year now. It's no wonder Aesind is exhausted by it all. Even if they were all legitimate options offering various merits and affections, it would be exhausting.

"I suppose..." Aesind thinks a moment, staring off into the distance. "Someone kind, who thinks of others before himself. Someone who makes Archimedes feel safe and who makes me feel... welcome." His gaze drops to his hands where they fold together in his lap, nails scratching lightly across his skin. "Someone who sees us not as an advancement opportunity but as the future itself."

Aesind's fingertips find the raised line of a long, thin scar that sits beneath his forefinger. The frown on his face makes Emrys wish he could personally fistfight every single man who's made Aesind feel self-conscious about those scars. They're prominent, and Aesind doesn't hide them. Perhaps it's because of those men that he doesn't hide.

Better to have it all out in the open and be judged immediately than to disappoint. Emrys can almost hear Aesind's glib voice in his mind, tone light and laughing to hide the genuine hurt underneath it.

The urge to promise everything he wants and needs sits heavy at the back of Emrys's throat. He fights it down urgently. Nothing good could come from a sudden confession. Not here, not now. Not ever, honestly, but definitely not now.

"I want someone who likes to learn," Aesind continues, too absorbed in the back and forth of his nails to notice Emrys's intense focus. "And who's happy to let go of etiquette and simply have a nice time together. Someone who knows who he is but isn't arrogant. Someone whose pride is earned. I want to feel like they're paying attention, like I matter. I want someone who chooses me, me and Archimedes, not just Archimedes and his -- his power or position. Somebody who views me as my own individual self, rather than an unavoidable addition." He pauses, sighs. "I want to be loved. Not tolerated as an addition, not merely liked as a friend. Loved."

With a start, Emrys realizes Aesind is staring back. His wide, vibrant eyes are dimmed, solemn. Lips that curve so easily into smiles are down-turned with an honest grief that digs deep into Emrys's ribs and pulls his heart clean from his chest.

Holding gently to the throbbing, bleeding muscle in those perfect, scarred hands, Aesind whispers, "Sometimes I'm worried I ask too much."

"No," Emrys blurts, reaching for him without thought. His hand lands on Aesind's forearm, squeezing lightly. "No. You deserve all of that. And more, I'd say."

Aesind's lips part in surprise. He doesn't shake Emrys off. Quietly, he asks, "You think so?"

"I know so," Emrys replies, softening despite the alarm bells clanging in his ears. He's too fucking close. He needs to get it together. Clearing his throat, he continues, "All of that is normal shit, you know? I'd say you could actually raise your expectations."

Aesind laughs lightly, but it's a sad, self-deprecating noise without any humor to it. "I'm not so sure. These days, I seem to cause more problems than I solve."

"You say that like wanting to be treated like a person is selfish," Emrys mutters.

Head shaking, Aesind replies, "I want to be treated like I'm the greatest thing to ever happen to these gentlemen." His lips quirk into a mirthless smirk. "Equal only to Archimedes."

Emrys's heart twists even further between Aesind's fingers. How can he say anything without sounding desperately, hopelessly infatuated? Is there anything to say to that?

"You deserve that," he says, hand slipping away from Aesind's arm. "Hells, I'd want the same thing in your place. That's not such a big thing to look for."

"And what is it you look for?" Aesind asks, turning in place. His knee knocks into Emrys's, and even that tiny, innocent contact through layers of cloth sets shivers over Emrys's skin. "In your place, as your mother's heir, what is it you're looking for?"

Emrys blinks. "Me?"

"Yes, you. Surely you have suitors of your own coming to call."

It's an abrupt pivot to the conversation, one that makes Emrys's head spin. "I... well, I mean..."

"You know, I never did ask," Aesind says when Emrys's voice trails off and doesn't pick up again. He glances off into the distance, lowers his voice. "And I suppose I ought to feel guilty for it, if -- well, if you have a partner already, would they be upset about our arrangement?"

Still off-kilter, Emrys snorts roughly, "I don't have anyone, so don't worry about it."

Aesind meets his eyes again, brows pulled together.

Emrys drops his own, unable to meet the confused worry there. The water rippling around his ankles sparkles in the sunlight, dazzling enough to distract. "I've had a few dates here and there, but nothing permanent. So, y'know. Don't worry about it."

There's a brief pause. The flowing fountain trickles loudly into the basin. Birds call in the distance. A mosquito buzzes close to Emrys's ear.

"Fair's fair," Aesind says eventually. "What is it you look for?"

Emrys wracks his brain for a good answer to that. He formulates a short list of generic, pleasing-sounding traits that any person could have. Coincidental, then, that Aesind could have some of them. Or all of them.

But when he meets Aesind's gaze, the half-truths dry up. He can't pretend, can't lie. It's never been something Emrys excelled at, and Aesind knows him well enough by now to see right through that sort of nonsense. If he can't tell the truth he really wishes he could say, that Aesind is what he wants, then an equally true one will have to do.

"I don't know," he answers honestly, quietly. His hands fold together, hanging loose between his knees as he leans forward. "Thought I did once, years ago. I haven't really considered anyone as a real option since then." He shrugs, studying his callused palms. They've gone soft in the months he's spent without regular, rigorous training. "I have time."

"Can I ask what happens if you don't find anyone?" Aesind asks hesitantly. "We... We have to. If we don't find someone else, Archimedes's line ends, and it'd be chaos. But you have brothers."

Emrys huffs. "That I do. If I don't have any children, I can name one of theirs as my heir." He wryly glances sidelong at Aesind. "So I guess it doesn't matter, really. As long as they get their shit together, mine can stay disorganized forever."

That makes Aesind bark out one singular laugh. He squints through his reluctant smile. "But that wouldn't make you happy, would it?"

He shrugs. "I have my work and my family. It's enough."

"I think you could raise your expectations, Mister Symmonet," Aesind says loftily. "You deserve more than simply enough."

Heart fluttering, Emrys fires back, "Big words from the guy who was just acting like having moderate standards is some huge, selfish thing."

Aesind sniffs, lifting his nose into the air. "At least I have standards."

"I have standards."

"You just said that you don't!"

"I said I don't know what I'm looking for, not that I have no standards."

"Alright, then," Aesind says, arms crossing. "Name one."

Emrys throws his hands up into the air. He casts about for a good one for far too long. Right as Aesind opens his mouth to prod, Emrys declares, "Intelligence. They've got to be smart. Good at math to help with accounting, since that's something I'm not great at. Even better if they're a good problem solver, able to think through issues and come at them from several angles at once." He sneers playfully at Aesind. "Good enough?"

"Oho, so you want a scholar," Aesind retorts, lifting his brows to give Emrys an arch look. "Elitist, no?"

"I don't give a shit about credentials. Some of the smartest people I know can't even read their own names. It isn't about schooling, it's about knowledge and ability to use it." Emrys gestures at Aesind. "Like you, you're an incredible magician, and you never went to a proper school. But nobody can deny that you're powerful. It's the same thing."

"Oh? So you'd say I'm your type?" Aesind flutters his lashes, grinning teasingly. He leans on one hand, canting toward Emrys. "Hm?"

Emrys's mouth goes very dry. The full, honest truth almost leaps from his lips, but Aesind's eyes dart to the side and widen by a fraction. Emrys freezes in place, straining to hear the footsteps crunching along the path somewhere behind him. Someone is coming around the corner, someone Aesind is unhappy to see. Not Ash, and not one of the staff, most likely. No, it's a suitor, coming to interrupt before Emrys's time with Aesind is officially up.

It isn't an excuse, Emrys assures himself as he scoots a touch closer. Aesind's gaze snaps back to Emrys, and he nods subtly.

"Of course, you are," Emrys replies, letting his voice fall to a soft, sultry murmur. He lays it on thick, hoping to the gods that it seems fake to Aesind but real to the suitor. He sets his hand over Aesind's on the cool stone, grateful that it isn't shaking with the nerves vibrating at his core. Emrys forces himself to hold Aesind's eyes as the awful truth spills. "You're everything I could possibly want, Aesind."

Aesind, ever the actor, lets his breath hitch. His vibrant green gaze flicks downwards to Emrys's mouth. His head tilts ever so slightly, lips parting almost like an invitation.

Helpless to resist and repeating to himself again and again that it's part of the ruse, Emrys leans in. Between them, Emrys's fingers curl around Aesind's.

Gods, but what if it wasn't an act? Emrys can just imagine the way Aesind's lips would feel against his own. He can hear a soft sigh in his mind, remembers the sweet sounds he made for Archimedes, and wonders if he could get Aesind to make those sounds for him, too. Emrys wonders when the last time was that someone other than Archimedes kissed Aesind, and whether he enjoyed it.

He bets he could do better.

"Excuse me."

Emrys jumps backwards and to his feet, water splashing in waves up the sides of the fountain basin to lap at the top edges. He glares at the intruder, heart pounding in his ears, and grits out, "What?"

Mister Nolan lifts his hands in defense. His lips are curled into a vaguely amused smile, but his dark eyes burn with resentment. It's been obvious from the start that Nolan is part of the bullshit going on, and yet he still has the audacity to look this jealous. As though he'd be chosen while being party to people like Reeves.

"I apologize for startling you," Nolan says, tucking his hands into his pockets and not sounding the least bit sorry. He looks past to Aesind. "Our appointed time was meant to begin twenty minutes ago. I was concerned and came looking for you." Nolan doesn't look particularly concerned, either. "It's unlike you to be so late, Lord Consort."

"Late?" Aesind repeats belatedly. He takes a peek at the small gold watch he keeps in his pocket and sucks his teeth. "Ah, right you are. My apologies, Mister Nolan. I lost track of time."

Aesind swings his legs out of the fountain and gives them a brief shake. He slips both feet back into his soft cotton shoes. To Emrys, he gives a chagrined smile. "I'll see you for dinner, yes?"

"Of course," Emrys replies, forcing himself to return the smile. "Enjoy the rest of the afternoon."

With a nod and a lingering look, Aesind turns to Mister Nolan and gestures to the garden's exit. They depart side by side, leaving Emrys standing in the frigid fountain's water on his own, staring after them.

He turns back around and sits heavily, watching the glittering cascade in front of him as it tumbles up into the air and crashes daintily into the pool below. Rainbow shimmers ripple in the air as sunlight catches the misty spray.

It's a good thing Nolan showed up. It is. Emrys was seconds away from making a massive mistake that could never be undone. Aesind's flirting is for show, nothing more. He doesn't share Emrys's feelings. And even if he did, which he certainly does not, Emrys would never be an appropriate candidate. No matter what Aesind's wants are, the person he and Archimedes choose has to have something more to offer than mere desire.

Blood drips from the chasm in Emrys's chest where his heart once beat. It trails over the fountain's edge and off into the distance, following behind everywhere Aesind steps.

Fool that he is, Emrys curses Nolan under his breath for interrupting.