THE EXILE A Gay Fantasy Experiment
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Chapter 22
Oh, Alek! How I failed you!
Forgive me, mysterious reader. For all these years I have done my best to forget, to swallow my guilt in a million good deeds. Only now, as I relive my memories again to put them to paper, only now do I realize that from this pain I could never truly hope to escape. How foolish to think otherwise.
What use has it all been, then? What good all that I have brought to pass? What does it profit, to be a son of power, if it could not stop my betrayal of the one I loved above all others?
Yes, my betrayal. For I would not have you who read this, you who have traveled so far down this road of memory with me, think that Alek betrayed me. That he struggled with all he could muster to escape the power that had held him so many years, I do not doubt. But had I heeded the many warning voices who had told me to protect him, had I not jealously hoped to hold him to my bosom, he would have been spared. As many voices have told me since that fateful day that I was not to blame for what happened, but I know better. Almost I could convince myself that I hear Damon laughing distantly, mocking me.
I drew my sword, but I could not fight him. The Queen laughed, but there was relief in her face that revealed that she had not been certain my friend would fall under her sway again. A moment of impasse, Alek's guilty face fading into one of determination. My friend vanished to be replaced by the servant of the Queen again, tearing my soul in two as he left. He had not my defense, nor had he my connection to Damon that had brought me to myself when I had fallen into her power. Nor was there any time to shake him out of her power as once I had done, with a kiss and a idealistic speech. The time for such things was past, too late by far.
We stared each other down, and then they were gone, through a hidden passage, cleverly concealed, one of many that now we now know criss-cross the Queen's keep. I watched them flee together, knowing I should pursue, but my feet were frozen to the floor.
I know not how much time had passed when the door opened, admitting several of the amazarii of our faction along with Shara and Jelena.
"Where is the Queen?" they asked, but I could not bring myself to answer.
"Where is Alek?" Jelena asked tentatively. "Markis, where is he??"
She crossed the distance between us and grabbed my hand. When I could not meet her gaze, she sunk to her knees and wailed. _______________________________________________________________________
I did not sleep last night. A distant sound of laughter tormented me, almost making me believe... but no, he is gone. I will not even think of it. It was a memory of darkness that haunted, that's all, for I allowed myself once again to fall into an old despair, thinking of Alek. Like all men I have my moments of weakness, and some pain never truly dies.
Today I visited Shara, my Queen and the present Ruler of Fermanagh. Our conference took place in the very chamber where we were wed at last. We had been promised to each other for most of my life, and in this way that promise was fulfilled, though in a way neither of us could have expected. Refusing her had caused my exile; and now she became my bride anyway. But at least this time she knew exactly what I could offer, and exactly what I could not.
Of our marriage and coronation, I remember little. A numbness had consumed me since Alek's defection and was weeks in passing, during which time I fulfilled the tasks required of me with as much grace as I could manage, trusting my advisors and friends to manage the preparations for our journey north. There was no sign of Valessa and Alek, and reports suggested they managed to flee the city with those remnant amazarii still loyal to their cause. My advisors predicted they had already joined the Archbishop's forces massing near Broxbourne. Tormented, I had denied all my company, even and perhaps most especially Pasha. Damon's presence I could not control, so I ignored him completely, refusing to hear anything he said, any of his threats or promises of power. Time passed in a blur, so that when the appointed day came that Shara and I were to take our places as rulers and co-monarchs of the city, it was a surprise.
We knelt side by side and were wed. This was a much more public and political affair than our wedding back home, and I knew that this time I could not refuse. I tried to bring myself to listen to the words of the ceremony and found only apathy welling up inside of me. I let my eyes wander over the crowd aimlessly, until I saw the red-eyed, hungry face of Jelena staring at me. It shot ice down my spine, and after that I stared at the floor in front of me until the ceremony was over. And then it was done. I was King of Fermanagh, Valen's heir and successor. Already the man had faded into obscurity, and I rarely saw him again after my ascension. Eventually there was no word or sign of him. Perhaps he was assassinated by somebody who still held a grudge, it would not be surprising, but for my part I believe he left our lands on his own accord, running away from himself, from his past. Perhaps I only think that because it is more or less what I myself am planning to do any day now.
The people celebrated our ascension to the throne, for it marked the end of the times of trouble and the hope for a new beginning of peace. A speech was expected of me, something to whip up the common people's support for our continued cause and the war coming against Broxbourne, but I had not the energy for speeches. I had fallen again into a pit of despair as black as that as had sapped all my strength after Ambassador Hollis had died. Everything tasted of ash and bitterness, and the existence of joy and sweetness offended me. I fled from all celebration and took refuge in my rooms.
That evening, after the coronation, I lay in bed with a single candle lit nearby, attempting yet again to think of all the many ways I could have saved Alek, could have prevented his downfall. The door opened, and a slim figure slipped into the darkness of that corner of the room.
"You keep too much to yourself, husband," Shara said, a smile in her words as she gave me that title.
"What do you want?" I managed to reply.
"You should not be alone. It is, after all, our wedding night."
I shook my head. "Shara, I cannot --"
"Oh, hush. You need not explain again, I am not a fool. Why do men always think first of such things? There are more ways than one to keep company. I have been watching you, these past days. You have not been yourself." She had stepped into the edge of the light from my candle, looking just as I had always remembered her during my exile: the perfect combination of beauty and deadliness. "You keep to yourself, push your friends away, brooding alone and saying nothing. This is not the man I know, the man we all swore to follow."
"Am I not allowed to mourn?" I snapped suddenly.
Her eyes were full of sympathy. "Of course. I understand your feelings for him were... Well, there was once a time I would have envied his place in your heart. Grieve, then, we all expect it. But by choosing isolation and darkness time and time again you give yourself no chance to heal. You keep yourself stagnant, unable to move on."
"I don't want to move on!" I shouted, "None of it matters now, don't you see? Why should I care what happens to the world? Maybe everybody else can let go of what happened and just keep going like it's nothing. Maybe everybody else doesn't care about him enough to realize that it has changed everything. Everything!"
She arched an eyebrow at my outburst. "Including Jelena?" I could say nothing to that. "Though she mourns she at least has not given up on our purpose. She makes preparation for our campaign north and plots to recover her lover from the Queen's clutches. She has held onto hope, at least, and in this shows herself wiser than you, for all your enlightened sermons to our Elders."
"Because it wasn't her fault," I countered, "Because she doesn't have to bear the guilt. She should hate me. I should bid her come to me and punish me as I deserve. Death at her hands would be fitting."
"She will not indulge your rather selfish desire for self-destruction, Markis. No, don't protest. I have known you longer than any here. I do not remember a time when you weren't the most important person in my life. I know you, and I know that for all your outward qualities that have won you the respect of so many followers, there is a darkness in you. It has been there as long as I have known you, buried under the surface. It has grown since your exile, old friend, as if... as if it has been feeding on you and has grown stronger."
My skin turned cold, my tongue (my new tongue, not even the one I had been born with) gone numb. I said nothing.
"We need our leader more than ever," she said, "We cannot afford to indulge you extra time to recover from your personal tragedies. You are a King, now, and more is at stake than your own heartbreak. Be a man, now, and honor that." She crossed to the door and pulled it open. "And do not let yourself be alone. It is foolishness to push away all who love you. Tonight, of all nights, your wedding night, let yourself be loved."
When I said nothing in protest, Shara turned and peered through the open door. "Come on in now," she said to somebody out in the hall. Turning back to me only to nod goodbye, she exited the room.
In her place came a new, equally slender figure that walked uncertainly towards the light. I knew Pasha instantly, and my first was reaction was indeed to order him away, to hide my face from him. But I remembered Shara's words and held back my rebuke. His face appeared at the edge of the candlelight, and on it was such a look of pain and hope mingled together that at once my resolve and reticence vanished. I took his outstretched hand and pulled him onto the bed with me, kissing him deeply.
On and on we kissed, pausing only briefly to undress, and the heat of his body enfolded mine. He felt fragile in my hands, and not just because he was smaller and younger. He loved me, and having loved in my time I knew how vulnerable that made him. He knew that I could never be his completely, forever, in much the same way that I had always known Alek could not be mine. But that did not mean that what I felt for Pasha was any less real, was anything less than genuine love. Perhaps Alek's feelings for me were the same. We are all of us bound together by this strange thread we call love, this piece of the Creator himself placed inside of us. This I have learned above all in my exile: it is not easy to love another. To do so is as difficult as fighting off enemy soldiers with a single blade, as difficult as speaking the truth to a roomful of corrupt politicians, as difficult as being imprisoned by your worst enemy, and as difficult as facing the friends and family you had once betrayed. But for all that, to let yourself be loved by another... this, I think, is more difficult still. We all desire it, but for all our desire the truth of it is perhaps our most perilous challenge. May you face that challenge, my friend, and succeed. Make no mistake -- your very life may depend upon it. Mine has. Mine has.
He opened himself to me, and I entered. At once I was enveloped in a joyous warmth that pleasured my spirit as much as my body. He gasped with wide eyes and smiled broadly, almost on the edge of a giggle, prompting me to laugh as well and say, "You look surprised. Surely you've had other men inside of you before me."
"Never a king," he growled in a voice so husky and masculine that I hardly recognized it as his own. Still, I heard the light, familiar teasing in his tone, and returned with what I'm sure was some utterly predictable jest about giving him the "royal treatment" or some such nonsense. It is difficult to be truly witty or original in such times. In truth, it matters little. That we feel free to make fools of ourselves is as much a sign of intimacy as uncovering our nakedness, and in our playfulness I found a freedom that I had not felt in many weeks. Indeed, even the weight of my guilt over Alek faded into the background, for a little while at least.
For months the tension between us had been building, and I had tried wilfully to ignore it. I had told myself that Pasha was too young, that he deserved someone of his own age, that my heart was elsewhere. He had shared my bed often but never had I allowed us to be partners of the flesh though each time we had touched I had felt my desire grow within me, held back by stubbornness, perhaps, or some foolish notion of chivalry or, most likely, some fear to let go of the pain my love for Alek had caused me, as though I had come to believe that pain was as much as part of me as my hand and could not be separated from who I was. Now at last that long-building desire exploded out all at once, held back no more. It did not take long before I had thrown myself fully into the task at hand, and dear little Pasha, flushed crimson with joy, began squealing so loudly that some remote part of my mind was certain every inhabitant of that wing of the complex could hear our lovemaking clearly. I had abandoned all sense of embarrassment, however. If I was king now, I would exercise this much privilege at least. Let it be known, the king is rutting his clerk on the royal wedding night! Long live the king! It was a human weakness I had every intention of indulging, for I had determined that I would not let myself forget that I was only a man after all. I would not deny myself and withdraw as Valen had before me. All this I thought to myself with a wry grin as sweat trickled down my forehead, my eyes locked on his.
Pasha was an eager vessel, desperate for the final consummation of our union. He whispered urgently of his need for me, to be filled by me, and I quickly obliged. Of the lovers I had taken since my exile, only Damon had showed more skill and eagerness. The boy's time amongst the Veruvians had taught him many wondrous things, and I silently blessed them in those final moments as all I had held back was released inside of him. I took him in my arms, feeling the wetness of our fluids between us, tumbling towards the first night of peaceful sleep I had enjoyed since Alek had vanished, or perhaps since even earlier than that.
We made love daily after that, sometimes more than once. Thus, when at last we departed Fermanagh, a much bolstered army at my command, it was no surprise to anyone that Pasha rode close by my side. That departure from the city, now firmly under Shara's rule, has weighed upon my mind, for tomorrow or perhaps the next day I will leave this city once again for the final time. We are expected in Carmathen and my final tour of my lands must move on.
Today, as I said, I visited with Shara to say goodbye, though she did not know that this was the true reason for my visit. We spoke much of the old days, before my exile, and some of my adventures after, of her brother and my father and other friends long passed. I was able to finally find the words to thank her for the gift she had given me on my wedding night, how her words had saved me in a dark hour. I told her in no uncertain terms, for the thousandth time, that my rule these many years could not have proceeded as smoothly without her aid.
"I did less than you think," she protested, smiling. Age has not dimmed her beauty. "It was you who brought these lands together."
"I think not--"
"Oh no? You know, I have never told you, but I believe you are Alander's heir in more ways than you think. He was called the Uniter, the Unifier, and these could be your names as well."
"Bringing these separate lands under one rule was never my intention, but only a practical necessity," I said, rather dismissively.
She shook her head. "It's more than that. In your wake I have seen brother reunited with brother, father reconciled to son. I have seen factions that swore enmity to each other work in union under your command. The men and women of this city live in peace, and now even the poorest citizens of our neighbors to the north hold their heads up with pride. You have accomplished so much, more than enough to outweigh any... sins that you feel you have committed." She gave me a significant glance.
I knew what she was referring to, understood the logic of her words and knew she meant them, but all I had to offer in return was a tight smile. We shall soon see if she is correct, I think. My final judgment draws near. As I sit here writing I hear that faint, distant laughing once again, and I believe I know what it portends. All for the best, then, that I will soon end my rule.
He has returned. Or perhaps, more likely, he never truly left. ____________________________________________________________________________
Of the many skirmishes and battles of the War that comprised our campaign northwards, I have little to say. I knew almost nothing of tactics and strategy, not when dealing with the large numbers of men involved in those decisive conflicts, and trusted my advisors to handle the details of where and when and led my men into battle at their direction. Some fights we won, others we lost, but ever our momentum carried us northwards, and we gained more strength as we went as I had predicted. I have no skill for describing such things, and anyway there are no doubt many books now written about the War that could lay clear the tactical history of the thing better than I. I mean to write what I always set out to write: my personal story, and that of my friends.
Near the city of Carmathen we faced the bulk of the Broxbournean army for the first time and very nearly had our first defeat. I remember my advisors pressing me to call the retreat, screaming above the noise and chaos of battle. Struck with uncertainty, I wished Pasha was there though I knew it was best that he had been kept behind. He was no soldier. Again and again I was urged to give the command to pull back, but something stopped me. I knew that if my main force was routed then and there our momentum northwards would dissipate, perhaps never to reform.
I still remember the elation and relief that washed over us all when news of reinforcements arrived at our darkest moment, when I had almost given up hope. As though it had all been planned (and, perhaps, it had been by some power we do not understand), a small host of giants appeared on the horizon and took our side. Golmeir, I knew at once, was with them. When the battle was done, and our forces gathered to bury our dead and prepare to move on, I sought him out.
I found him at the side of another of his race even larger than he. Those of my personal guard who were giants themselves, left behind by Golmeir to protect me, went to one knee at the sight of this imposing figure, and it was then I knew his identity. He was surrounded by a retinue of warriors, including the one known as Talmeir who had taken my friend Gol home with him some weeks previously. I embraced Golmeir warmly, even though doing so made me feel like a small child embracing a grown man, then turned to address his father with a bow of respect, for he was something akin to a King amongst their kind.
"I greet you, Chief, and thank you for your help in our battle. And I thank you for returning your son Golmeir, a dear friend to me."
The chieftain rumbled a reply, his voice low and booming, "He has told me you are blood-brother to him, but we could not believe it at first. Such a thing has not happened between our peoples in many, many years."
"The old times come again," Golmeir said simply. There was respect in his voice, but it was clear to me that the statement was intended as an argument.
"So it would seem," the chieftain said. He never did give his name - a formal people, the giants. "Your true-brother Talmeir is not convinced, and has urged me to caution."
I had not known Talmeir was my friend's brother, and wondered why it had not been brought up before. Their ways are not ours, and I merely raised my eyebrows in Gol's direction in response. Turning back to the Chief, I spoke again: "Last time I saw my friend... my blood-brother, he said he was going home to be judged."
"And so he has been," the Chieftain replied, "Judged, punished, and pardoned. It is done, and we speak no more of it. Now we come to judge another."
"Who?"
The Chief leaned down, nearly bending over, until his eyes were level with mine. "You."
"What crime have I committed?"
The giants laughed as though I had made a great joke, and their laughter was frightening. It sounded like an earthquake had erupted all around me.
Talmeir was first to speak. "A judgement of worth, small one."
"We will see if you are like the one who came before," Golmeir explained. "He was the the last of your kind to be blood-brother to us."
"The King of the Mountain you once spoke of?" I asked. Gol nodded.
Talmeir laughed again. "As you say, brother, but I see no Alander in him, and you are no Iotor."
I started with surprise. The allies of Alander that my people had venerated as angels: Tharon, Veru, Damon, Lestra... and Iotor. "Iotor was a giant?" There had not been time to study Alander's writings in depth, and there was so much, it seemed, that I still did not know.
"Iotor was the King of the Mountain," the Chief nodded, "And Alander of your people his ally and blood-brother. Now Golmeir says the old times come again. He says it again and again, and many believe him."
"He would declare himself King of the Mountain," Talmeir said, "Arrogance." It was at that moment that, for all his difference in size and shape, I recognized Talmeir. He was Jacek in spirit, and at that recognition my heart went out to my friend.
"Golmeir would be a great leader," I said, "One I myself would follow."
My friend looked at me gratefully, but his father only said, "We shall watch and see. We have come to join your war. We have to come to see what kind of world you will make. Until your foes are defeated, we are yours." Then, to my surprise, he and all his kind with him knelt and bowed down to me.
It was at this fortuitous moment that the delegation from the Council of Carmathen came to treat with me, as I had known they would. They had held their forces back all through the battle, waiting to see who would be the victor before declaring which side they would support. Jelena had warned me that this would be their approach.
I turned to them, cowering politicians in their rich garb, with the giants still paying homage behind me, and saw the fear in their eyes. I knew then they would agree to anything. Within hours, the entire Council had sworn fealty to me, and Carmathen, like Fermanagh before it, was conquered. ___________________________________________________________________________
He laughs. I can hear him more clearly now. He is out there waiting, as he has always been waiting for all of these years. I must face him once again. The end of my story is coming, my friend, my mysterious reader.The tale is nearly done. I rest my pen now, but when I take it up again, I think, it will be to conclude my story. You shall know of my greatest sin, my greatest secret, and my greatest shame. And then you will know why I must leave you and go to my destiny... as you will one day go to yours.
As Markis says, I think one more chapter will be enough to finally conclude this story that I first conceived nearly five years ago. It has been a strange journey, this "gay fantasy experiment" of mine, and I have learned much from it all. There have been highs and lows, but I hope that somebody somewhere has enjoyed the story overall. Give me a week or two to finish the last chapter, and then you shall know how it all ends at last. As always, feel free to contact me at thephallocrat@gmail.com with questions or comments. And thank you for reading!!