Chapter 7: Socializing

They settle in the smaller drawing room on the first floor just past the library. It's cozy and warm, furnished with sunny oranges and yellows to beat the passing wintry blues. There are two loveseats which face each other stationed in front of the crackling stone fireplace. A pair of tall-backed armchairs sit nearby. The rug beneath the carved coffee table is a plush, rich red that's soft against the soles of Emrys's newly bare feet (Aesind insisted they get cozy and promptly took his shoes off, beckoning for both Archimedes and Emrys to do the same; Ash, being barefoot already, just took a seat in one of the armchairs). An assortment of snacks and a large ceramic pot of tea have been laid out across the table's surface.

The room is made all the more comfortable by the sugar-sweet affection that passes between Archimedes and Aesind. They trade gentle touches and open smiles that speak volumes to the relief they feel at being reunited. It ought to be embarrassing to watch, like he's observing something private that shouldn't be intruded on, but Emrys just feels warm inside.

Aesind pours Archimedes a cup of tea, but Archimedes waits to drink until Aesind has sipped his and pronounced it satisfactory. Archimedes drapes an arm over the back of the loveseat they've claimed just as Aesind leans back into him. As he goes, Aesind offers up a slice of very sharp cheese that makes Archimedes sigh happily as it melts on his tongue. It's like a dance only they know the moves to, set to music only they can hear. They've been together for so many years that they now know each other completely, inside and out. They make room for each other as easily as breathing.

Emrys sips at his warm tea while watching them dote on each other. It's adorable. Enviable, too.

"Anyhow," Aesind chirps as he settles into Archimedes's side with a tiny cinnamon muffin in hand, "how did it go, sweetheart?"

Sweetheart. The nickname lodges between Emrys's ribs. So much affection pressed into two syllables, it could rot teeth.

"It went as well as it could have," Archimedes replies on a sigh. His teacup perches on his thigh. It looks tiny in his long-fingered hand. "The damages weren't as severe as they could've been, thankfully. It will still take time for Eavesrush to recover."

"They made it all the way to Eavesrush?" Aesind says, voice soft with horror. "Those poor people."

"There were minimal casualties, thanks to the delay and decrease in their numbers caused by Emrys and his brothers," the godkin says with a grateful nod to Emrys. "I've stationed more guards at Eavesrush to protect them for now in case there are stragglers, but..." He sighs again. There's a pinch at the corners of his mouth that betrays his frustration despite the evenness of his voice. "It takes away from other settlements, leaving us vulnerable when we can scarcely afford it."

"Have you considered citizen militias?" Emrys asks.

Both Aesind and Archimedes's near-unnatural gazes swivel to him, and he just about swallows his tongue.

"As in, arming the townsfolk?" Aesind says, brow creasing. "Most of our people aren't trained for fighting like that."

"No, but they could learn," Archimedes says with a nod. His expression is solemn as he considers Emrys. "I have thought about it, yes. But we don't have the resources for that, either. We would have to remove soldiers from their posts in order to train them, and I worry we don't have the arms necessary for it."

Emrys runs a finger beneath his lower lip as he thinks. "Perhaps not. But you could partner with local guild chapters to produce more weapons and armor. If you were to provide materials and funding, I think they'd be more than willing to work by contract."

"And the training?" The godkin raises one blond brow.

"There are people among the townsfolk who can fight already. Look to the blacksmiths, the woodsmen, the game hunters, retired soldiers." Emrys splays his hands. "My own people."

Aesind whistles, glancing sidelong at Archimedes. "You're hardly home for a few minutes, and he's already got a business proposal."

Heat rushes into Emrys's face. "I'm just throwing some ideas out."

"I appreciate it," Archimedes says, seemingly ignoring Aesind's ribbing. "I've got a few contract offers out to the guilds for arms already, and likely a few replies are sitting in my pile of letters. I'll take the idea of working with other guilds for combat training under consideration." He tilts his head, glancing into space. "I also have a few missives to send out to our neighbors. There have been offers of support from all directions."

"As I said, I'm in your debt," Emrys says, leaning back in his seat. "If there's anything I can do to make things easier or speed things along, I'm at your service."

"Thank you." He takes a thoughtful sip of his tea. "How have things been here?"

"Mm, it's been alright," Aesind replies around a mouthful of muffin. He reaches for another. "I'm just glad you're finally home. I've missed you terribly."

"And I you, my love," Archimedes murmurs, pressing a kiss to Aesind's temple. There's a pause where they stare at each other for a long moment. Then, silver-gray eyes flick to Emrys. "And you, Emrys? I take it your recovery is going well enough, given how you're able to move around without issues." He glances at the brace holding Emrys's shoulder together. "How is it healing?"

Emrys flexes his arm in its binding. He sighs. "It won't ever be the same again, I'm afraid."

"I'm sorry."

Emrys shrugs with his uninjured shoulder. "I knew the risks going in. I'm grateful to be alive." He wiggles his bound elbow around as far as it'll move, offering up a little smile. "At least it's still attached. We don't know yet how it'll affect my shooting, but I'm ambidextrous. I can use a sword with either hand, so I'll be able to keep hunting either way."

"That is good news," Archimedes says, voice tinged with relief. "I do hope that your stay has been alright, despite the rather abrupt circumstances."

Aesind nudges his side with an elbow. "Are you accusing me of neglecting our guest?"

"Of course not. I only want to ensure his needs are being met."

"Well?" Aesind prompts, directing a teasing look at Emrys. "Have I been a terrible host?"

Emrys grins. "Just the worst."

The scrape of chalk on slate is almost hidden beneath the offended squawking from Aesind. Ash turns their board around to reveal the words: "It has been nice having someone else around to entertain Aesind."

"I'm sure it has," Archimedes chuckles, offering a charming smile to Emrys. "I appreciate you keeping him company. He can be quite a handful."

"I'm not a child in need of entertaining," Aesind complains as he sinks backwards into his seat with a new muffin in hand.

"No, but you do get bored," Emrys says, one eyebrow arching. "I can't imagine what happens when you have nowhere to put that energy."

Archimedes snorts into his teacup. "You don't want to find out."

"It isn't like I'll tear the building down," Aesind grumbles.

Emrys snickers.

"What have you been getting up to?" Archimedes asks after a diplomatic sip. "Anything particularly fun? New reads, perhaps?"

Aesind perks right up. "I recently unearthed a fascinating series of novels. There are twelve books in total, each covering a particular century in this country ruled by dragons. It's fascinating. The dragons were clearly inspired by early accounts of godkin roaming the mortal plane."

"Is that so?" Archimedes hums in thought. "Most authors tend to correspond dragons to fiendblood, rather than godkin. That is an interesting choice, if that's the case." He glances at Emrys. "What do you think?"

"Uh." Emrys cringes. "I don't read much, I'm afraid. I've never had the patience for it."

"And it makes you an excellent audience," Aesind says with a teasing smile that does absolutely nothing to Emrys's insides. "I can explain the nuances of story and the references therein to my heart's content, and it's all beautifully novel to you."

"I'm a captive audience with nothing else to do," Emrys says dryly as though he doesn't relish Aesind's long rambles. "At least you're a fair storyteller."

"I'm an excellent storyteller, thank you very much," Aesind sniffs, nose lifting. "You ask me often enough what I'm reading, and you know by now that asking begets a ramble. I can't be merely fair for that to be the case."

Emrys has no comeback that he can share. So instead, he rolls his eyes and sips at his tea.

"What are your plans, now that you're home?" Aesind asks. His eyes shine with a hopeful light as he turns them upwards to Archimedes.

The godkin gives Aesind a soft smile. "I'm not going anywhere for a while. I have much work to catch up on here."

"Work and rest," Aesind says pointedly, one narrow brow arched.

"Yes, and rest."

By the way Aesind purses his lips, Emrys can tell he's not convinced. Archimedes pretends to not notice. He sips at his tea and munches at the lunch laid out in front of him. There's a challenge in Aesind's posture that Emrys recognizes well. It's the same way he regarded Emrys as he held him down by the shoulders and commanded him to stay still.

Emrys stays quiet. He knows better than to get in Aesind's way when he's displeased. He shares a look with Ash, who takes a pointed gulp of their tea.

"Sweetheart."

"Yes, my love?"

"You're forbidden from visiting your desk for at least two days."

"Aesind..."

"No arguments," the pretty man declares firmly.

"I've been away too long and too often," Archimedes argues. "I can't neglect it any more than I already have. There is correspondence to reply to, and documents to review for damages done to our villages, accounting for the estate, trade reports for the season's end, and more."

"You cannot ignore your own needs, Archimedes," Aesind says, frowning hard. He holds up a hand to silence the argument on the tip of Archimedes's tongue. "This isn't up for debate. You will take tomorrow and the following day to rest and recuperate. No business beyond absolute essentials for the household."

Emrys's gaze darts back and forth as they stare at each other like they're arguing just with their eyes. Part of him wonders if he should leave. Ash seems content to watch them bicker, but Emrys is an outsider.

"There are matters that can't wait two days," Archimedes says eventually, brows knitting.

Aesind's mouth puckers.

"One hour each morning," the godkin adds. He takes up one of Aesind's hands. "That's all I need. The rest of both days can be spent entirely without work."

Aesind sighs. "Fine." He points a warning finger. "But if I catch you working outside those times, I'm adding an extra day."

"Yes, love," Archimedes says fondly.

Satisfied, Aesind turns his attention to the table of food. He reaches for another pastry and catches Emrys's fond, amused stare. He raises an eyebrow.

Emrys clears his throat, fighting a self-conscious flush. He turns to Archimedes and asks, "So, aside from your mandated rest days, what are your plans now?"

"We have another pair of suitors arriving in about three weeks," Archimedes says, acknowledging the grimace from Aesind with an understanding half-smile. "And I really do have a lot of catching up to do. I have an event to host in a couple weeks, as well, to meet with other godkin leadership from the continent. I'm hoping to rally support for the ghoul problem."

"Anything I can do to lend a hand?" Emrys asks hopefully. He's been dying for something to do. Some way to be useful or a task to complete. He'd take anything at this point.

"Our staff have most preparations well in hand," the godkin replies. "You should focus on your recovery."

Emrys deflates. "Right."

Aesind snorts into a bite of jammy fried dough.

"What?" Emrys mutters, eyes narrowing.

"The two of you are such workaholics," he says with a put-upon sigh. "Constantly restless without a goal to achieve. Haven't either of you ever considered that being well-rested is a fine enough goal?"

"You say that as though you wouldn't be clawing at the walls in my situation," Emrys retorts.

Aesind's mouth opens to fire off another insult or something else, but a knock at the door interrupts. One of the staff pokes their head in, appearing harried and urgent.

Both lords of the household beckon them in further, getting to their feet without a word. The servant whispers hastily to them and steps back. They fold their hands together behind their back. Emrys sees the way their fingers twist with nerves.

"Is everything alright?" Emrys asks, rising from his seat. Concern unfurls as he watches his hosts exchange uneasy, displeased looks.

"One of our suitors is throwing a fit," Aesind spits, eyes flashing. "Apparently, they're angry that Archimedes is home."

"They are?" Emrys repeats. He considers the way the group of gentlemen acted earlier and how they dissipated like smoke, all going their own separate ways. "You mean, all of them are angry?"

"So it would seem."

Archimedes has gone quite pale. His hands clench into tight fists. Emrys is struck with the impulse to reach across the table to touch his arm. He resists.

"I want him out," Archimedes says in a quiet, dangerous voice.

"Sweetheart --"

"Now."

"Let me go deal with him," Aesind murmurs, wrapping a hand around Archimedes's bicep. "I'll take care of it and return right after."

The air is thick as Archimedes considers it. When he nods, it's a short, terse thing.

Aesind looks at Ash. "Come on."

They hop to their feet and follow Aesind out, along with the servant. The door clicks shut.

"So much for a relaxing lunch," Emrys says, aiming for humor as he turns back to Archimedes. His mouth goes dry. "Are you alright?"

If looks could kill, Emrys would be dust. Archimedes's gray glare pierces straight through him.

"What do you know?" Archimedes demands in that same quiet tone. It leaves no room for denials or hesitation.

"I..." Emrys swallows around the nervous lump in his throat. "I don't know a lot. I overheard all of the suitors in the hallway right before Aesind came out. They were -- I guess disappointed? They weren't happy about you being home. Something about being early and having to explain themselves."

"What else?"

"Aesind doesn't like any of them," Emrys says, fishing around for any detail he could possibly give. Something, anything, that would make the furious godkin in front of him view him not as a threat but as an ally. "They've been pretty disrespectful from what I've heard. I don't know anything else. They mostly ignore me, and I tend to avoid them, so I don't know."

Archimedes stares at him with a cold intensity. At length, he relents. He sinks back down onto the loveseat, shoulders slumping.

"I apologize," he mutters, rubbing his forehead. "I realize you're not to blame for any of this."

"I'm not offended." Emrys sits down. He's not sure what else to say, so he says nothing at all.

They fall into an uncomfortable silence. A clock ticks away on the wall, deafening in the quiet. Neither of them touches the food. Their tea grows cold.

Emrys keeps his eyes down. No matter how much he wants to examine the handsome godkin across from him, now isn't the time. The last thing he wants is to be suspicious or make the man any more tense than he already is. Staring isn't the answer.

Instead, Emrys wracks his brain for anything useful. Details he noticed, snippets of conversation caught around corners, eye contact and expressions that were innocuous at the time but now seem suspicious, everything. Based on just his limited experience, though, he can't find any patterns. The only thing these gentlemen have in common, as far as Emrys can tell, is that they're here to try and charm Aesind (and, he supposes, Archimedes) and they're failing at it.

It doesn't make sense. Why would they be upset about an opportunity to meet Archimedes face to face? Isn't that the entire point? They're being sent here to attempt to become Archimedes's second mate. Impressing the man is the goal. They should be making every effort to be pleasing -- respectful, attentive, charming.

But they aren't. If anything, they're doing their absolute best to be the opposite. They're annoying, disrespectful, arrogant.

The question is, why?

Despite the tension still present in Archimedes's posture as he sits still as a statue, Emrys decides to ask. Perhaps talking about the issue and its potential solutions will make things better. It would help Emrys, so maybe it would help Archimedes.

He opens his mouth and is promptly interrupted by Aesind sweeping back into the room.

"What a fucking asshole!" Aesind cries, throwing himself down onto the loveseat beside Archimedes. His face is flushed with anger. "I'm declaring his entire household uninvited from every single event we host for the rest of time."

"What did he say?" Emrys asks, sitting up straighter. He flexes his good arm's hand, wondering if he could still throw a good enough punch while partly restrained by the brace.

Illala would probably kill him for it, but the satisfaction would be so worthwhile.

Aesind slumps into Archimedes's side and groans. "I caught the end of his rant to his attendant, who was taking dictation for a letter. He used a slew of language I won't repeat about both me and Archimedes. I marched him back to his guest room, watched him pack, and sent him on his way."

"What a dick," Emrys grumbles. "If I had use of both arms, I would've gone with you to throw the guy out a window."

"Which would have been very appreciated," Aesind says, stretching his legs out with another groan. "Fucking asshole. Ugh." He peers upwards at Archimedes. "Alright, sweetheart?"

"Hm?" Archimedes blinks. He looks down at Aesind. "Oh. Yes, I'm alright." He blinks again, more rapidly. "You're alright, as well?"

"I'm fine. Annoyed, but that's okay. He's gone now, and that's all that matters." Aesind straightens and refills his teacup. "Now, where were we?" He takes a short sip. "Ah, right, I was insisting that you two ought to allow yourselves to rest more."

It's a hard pivot. Emrys is reluctant to let it go, but one look at the pair of them is all he needs to decide to play along. Archimedes is stiff and unresponsive; Aesind is angry and working to control it.

A distraction, it is.

"I get plenty of rest," Emrys fires back. "All I've been doing is resting."

Aesind rolls his eyes. "Your mother's letters would suggest otherwise."

"How is your mother?" Archimedes asks suddenly, shaking himself as though coming awake from a deep sleep. He doesn't force himself to smile, but his tone is meaningfully upbeat. "And your brothers?"

Emrys smiles. "They're well, thank you. They send their thanks to you with every letter."

"Oh, Emrys was telling me about his brother, Lynnas. Apparently, you would get along quite well..."