sterngaze | open post

[ It seems strange for a vampire to be afraid. He’s been to enough of their revels now to know they are creatures of deadly strength and swiftness and menace, and though Cardan knows power is no cure for fear, the press of Liem’s body against his still feels like discovering a secret.

Refreshing gets Liem a short chuckle.

He slides off the moth’s back himself, boots landing among green fronds. For the moment, at least, the animal seems content not to move, aside from the slow moving of its antennae.

Liem’s assertion that they’re far away is pleasing. Cardan grins back – having, for once, abandoned his refuge of sly smiles and cool glares. Bathed in moonlight and glitter dust alike, surrounded by twinkling lights, Liem looks exceedingly charming. Cardan has to repress the urge to reach out and mess with his hair even more, his fingers twitchy at his side.

For a moment, he wonders if it could have been just like this. If, perhaps, without the shadow of the manor and their places in it looming indelibly over them, it would have been easier to take off just a bit more of his armor. There might have been fewer misunderstandings; they might not be still sleeping in the same bed like strangers.

Or not sleeping, he supposes, if Liem decides to make his absence a habit.

He reaches out anyway, though only to brush a bit of moth dust off of Liem’s cheek. ]

Then I will entrust myself to you.

[Liem does not trust that chuckle, and he does not trust that grin, despite his stated preference for menacing and unpredictable lovers. Or perhaps it’s because of his predilections that he still feels so hesitant. He does not want to let himself be charmed by Cardan, not when he’s so certain that it can only end badly for him. And, despite the aforementioned menace and unpredictability, there is much to be charmed by.

Vampire or Faerie, falling head-over-heels for someone you met at a party is always a bad idea. Doing the same for someone you met on the occasion of your wedding is unquestionably worse.

For a moment, the brush of fingers against his cheek bewilders him completely. He blinks at Cardan, who is iridescing rather more than normal, and lifts a hand belatedly to brush at his own cheek. When his fingers come away shimmering faintly, he thinks first of the glittery coating on Cardan’s shoulders after his snooze in the stall. Then he sees that much of his clothing has received the same treatment, and he realizes that he must now look every bit as glimmery as his husband.

Ah; he must look amusing indeed.]

Well then.

[He reaches out to lightly catch his husband’s hand, and lifts it so he can brush a kiss over his knuckles.]

As your escort, let me welcome you to my family’s part of the forest. I like to wander it sometimes, when Gusairne is being especially insufferable.

[ He’s a little surprised at the brush of cool lips against his fingers; the touch seems to linger on his skin. It’s odd to be courted when he’s so often played the role of the dashing prince, himself. What’s more is that it works, though the thoughts that cross Cardan’s mind regarding Liem’s mouth – and where he would prefer it – cannot be described as particularly princely. His fingers curl slightly against Liem’s hand, tightening just a touch.

Gusairne’s name prompts a soft snort from him. ]

He is capable of being more insufferable than this? Surely that isn’t possible. Flowers would wilt, birds would cease singing. The moon would rather cloak itself than show its face to such unpleasant sights.

He is a peril to beauty itself.

[ He is a peril to romance, too, Cardan imagines. At the same time, there is catharsis in shittalking their mutual irritant behind his back, for once. Usually Cardan only gets to do it to Gusairne’s face. ]

How either of us yet retain ours, I am not certain.

[The small, secretive smile that twitches at the corners of Liem’s mouth suggests that he is trying not to grin too openly at the thorough tenor of Cardan’s trash-talking. Even as an adult, now that his father’s seneschal is his subordinate, it’s still not a prudent habit to relax into—regardless of how apt his husband’s remarks may be.]

He does have a certain withering aura about him, [he agrees.] Though he has been in rare form of late.

[It’s not hard to pin down the source of Gusairne’s sour moods; he’s been especially unpleasant ever since he started having to report to Liem’s husband on top of reporting to Liem himself. He suspects Cardan is not unaware of this, given his apparent disdain for the man.]

But if Gusairne were capable of robbing fair folk of their beauty, my father surely wouldn’t waste his talents by insisting he work for me.

[Then, after a moment’s thought, he amends his statement.]

Actually, he’d still probably insist on it. He would just expect me to leash him and take him to more interesting places.

If he gave you leave to also muzzle the man, I may just be tempted to make it so.

[ If he notices Liem's suppressed mirth (he does), he makes no issue of it. They have many secrets between them; this one, at least, Cardan understands.

The more puzzling issue relates to Liem's mention of his father. It has not escaped Cardan's notice that Iago's decisions have a tendency to make his son's life challenging. At first, he'd thought it a mere by-blow of Iago's self-interest. Now, he's sometimes unsure if that's the whole of it.

Maybe one day he will ask Liem about it.

Today, tonight, he only threads his fingers through Liem's, and says, ]

Let us think of more pleasant things, before my lustre fades entirely. Where shall we go?

[Though Liem raises an eyebrow, he makes no further comment about the prospect of muzzling the house seneschal. Cardan is right; they need not spend their time thinking about Gusairne during the hours they've managed to win free of him. For now, the woods are calling.

For Liem, the draw of the woods has less to do with the greenness of the earth and the magic of old things than it does with the wild irregularity of its places and plants and creatures. No sensible hand had a say in the placement of the trees or the shape of the land beneath; the living things here owe no debts and report to no master. They simply are—and for a short while, when he is wandering between the rocks and trunks, he simply is too.]

You seem well lustred to me.

[He eyes the pearlescent sparkle on Cardan's cheeks, decorating his already-shining hair. But his fingers twine agreeably with his husband's, and he says,]

I know a place that isn't far from here. [He glances, briefly, at the moth.] Will our mount fly off and strand us if we leave it?

[ Cardan waves a dismissive hand. ]

It's formidably lazy. I cannot imagine why it would bother.

[ It is more likely for it to refuse to fly them back, but he figures he will deal with that if and when it becomes pertinent. Anyway, there are other options, though none of them involve Liem's tight embrace about him.

The moth certainly wouldn't be willing to trudge along with them, at any rate. And Cardan's eager to explore, to smell the forest's smells and listen to its nighttime choruses. So much so that he's actually just going to start walking; he imagines his husband will correct him if he finds he's being pulled in the wrong direction. ]

[That Cardan simply starts walking says more than anything else about the pointlessness of keeping an eye on his furry pet. Liem lets himself be towed along as they leave the clearing and the moth and the fireflies behind them, adjusting their course only slightly to make for a thin animal trail cutting through the trees.

Then, he simply follows Cardan and the terrain, ducking round the odd spreading fern or low-hanging branch, stepping over twigs and knobby roots and profusions of damp-loving mushrooms. Liem moves through the forest like a foreign predator, one used to prowling rather different climes but still gamely making the best of things amidst the greenery. The rules for hunting here are considerably different than in the polished halls and plush parlours of home, but sport is sport, and he’s had occasion to learn the sounds and habits of the most interesting wildlife at least.

The place that Liem steers them towards really isn’t all that far, but the journey there does require some amount of effort and navigation. When the musical burble of a creek reaches his ears, he turns them toward it. When they find the creek twisting through a shallow ravine, he leads them upstream, following it alongside. Their route leads up a steep, rocky slope with water tumbling past in a rush, and then finally to a broad green hilltop, where snatches of night sky are visible around the crown of a wide, fantastically gnarled oak tree.

Liem regards it with open pleasure.]

Here we are.

[ The subtle change in Liem's movement is interesting. It's also unexpected; Cardan has never traversed a forest with anyone other than other folk. His own steps are completely silent -- though he walks no differently than he would to cross a ballroom, the wood itself seems to move imperceptibly out of his way, allowing him to leave no trace of his passing.

Having Liem walk behind him, then, brings forth the uncanny sensation of being stalked, prickling at the back of his neck. He forgets, sometimes, that his husband is in his essence no different from the men and women he sees feasting on blood every fête, their beautiful faces as savage as any wolf's.

He's not sure if the reminder is thrilling or stressful.

But his thoughts are pulled away from the matter soon enough. Liem may find that their journey takes longer than he expects: Cardan is both easily distracted and stubbornly attentive at once. He will stop to brush the white bark of a birch, or listen to an owl's call for its mate, or poke at ferns that roll up to tight little spirals in response. The creek seems to delight him particularly.

Laying eyes on the oak and its hill, he will blink... and then lift his face to the breeze, like a hound trying to pick up a scent. He doesn't have to wonder why Liem likes it: it's beautiful and wondrous, like poetry writ into nature.

It also tugs at something painful in his chest. ]

...if I didn't know better, I'd suspect you had brought me to a faerie brugh.

[ Though he is certain that no court would settle on vampire lands. ]

[Liem takes distinct enjoyment in watching Cardan wander the wood. Although he knows his husband cannot have ever set foot in this patch of woodland before, he seems at home here; as they linger in places to let Cardan take in some detail, acquaint himself with a tree or fern or rill, the impression Liem has is of an observer listening to a conversation in a language he doesn’t speak. The forest seems to provide for him a secret and delightful significance that Liem isn’t privy to, much as he enjoys the wildness of the forest’s green and beating heart.

When they come to the top of the hill, he initially takes a moment to appreciate the nostalgic sight of the oak stretching its mossy bought to fill the space. But he looks then at Cardan, searching his expression as he regards the scene before them. It’s not immediately obvious to him whether his husband is pleased to have been brought here.]

Is that so?

[Liem knows little of magical places, or the things that might herald the presence of faeries somewhere wild. Everything that lives in this forest is here to be hunted, in some way or another—except for the wolves, which are here to keep interlopers from freely roaming where they aren’t welcome. It seems a poor place for any faerie to dwell, even the most stubborn and clever of them.]

I have more often been here in the winter, when the nights are longer, but it’s nice like this. I’ve rarely seen it so green.

[ It's not hard for him to draw the similarities: the Palace of Elfhame is built inside a hill topped by a gigantic tree, the roots of which burrow unnaturally far beneath the earth.

But he supposes he cannot keep having conflicted feelings every time he encounters a hilltop. Cardan sighs, shaking the feeling as loose as he can. There will be no fair folk here: no goat-headed phooka, no insect-like sprites, no trolls with snowflakes in their hair. He is, as he has been, the lone representative of their kind.

He'll look up towards the stars peeking through the canopy. They are different here; different constellations, perhaps different meanings altogether. Few of his textbooks on astrology seem like they would apply, here. ]

You didn't suppose you'd need this place to hide from me?

[ The half-smile indicates he's teasing, though he certainly knows he's been insufferable, too. In a sexier, cleverer, and far more refined way than Gusairne -- but insufferable all the same.

Then again, he supposes there is no real hiding from each other. Not as long as they wear their wedding bands, and he cannot imagine Liem taking off his, even in exasperation. ]

[Now that they've reached their destination, Liem is content to linger for a while. He's in no hurry to abandon the woods for a return to the house, particularly when Cardan has seemed more approachable tonight than on perhaps any other night he's seen him.

Which is understandable, he thinks. It's hard to be completely at ease in another vampire's home, not that Liem would even advise trying.

He lifts an eyebrow as he observes his husband's half-smile, pretending nonchalance, as if he didn't just spend his entire day avoiding him.]

Would you really hunt me down all the way out here? Surely at some point it stops being worth the effort.

[He moves forward across the hilltop, pulling Cardan along with him, deeper beneath the tangled spread of branches. The breeze is a little fresher here, out from the cover of the trees around the perimeter. It tugs briefly at their hair as they emerge.

A soft, short suggestion of laughter escapes him.]

But I'd rather not need to hide from my own husband.

[ There is something strangely delicate to the clasp of their hands, to Liem's soft laugh. It feels like something that cannot be forced nor preserved, like a soap bubble that will pop the minute the wind blows too hard.

Cardan doesn't know why he's suddenly anxious about it. He's certainly determined not to let it show, though he can do nothing to slow his treacherous heartbeat. His tone remains light. ]

If you're gone, I may have real work pressed upon me, which is hardly in my nature.

[ But that's not a real reason. For one, no one in their right mind would expect Cardan to be dependable. ]

And I don't trust any of the others not to eat me.

[ That is closer to honesty, couched in irony as it is. ]

[Despite himself, Liem smiles at the reasons Cardan gives for why he might bother to dog him all the way out here. He suspects that the main reason would have less to do with a fear of work or even the other household vampires, and more with a suspicion of what Liem might get up to if he's allowed too much free time away from his spouse. Cardan's position has the potential to suffer significantly if his husband is allowed to shuffle him to the side and forget about him, so that might yet provide incentive to pop up when Liem isn't expecting him.

But he's still pleased by the implication that he is, at least by comparison, worthy of Cardan's trust.]

I'm flattered by your confidence in me.

[Once they are well beneath the oak's gnarled boughs, its massive limbs almost comforting in their near-omnipresence, Liem will let go of Cardan's hand—but only to dig into one of his coat pockets. There is something rather square inside that he had to avoid pressing into the elf's back earlier.]

If I'd known we'd be coming out here, I might have thought to bring refreshments. But in lieu of that, I do have something else for you.

[He withdraws a hinged wooden box, small enough to hold comfortably in one hand. And, trying to keep any inconvenient trace of hesitation from his face, he offers it to Cardan.]

[ Cardan considers mentioning that Liem's pronounced lack of interest in feeding on him is a little insulting, but-- perhaps that's too close to the truth. He has wondered about where his husband gets his needs met, and why he is so private about it. He's thought about asking, but what is the point when it's likely the answer will just irritate him further?

The moment passes, anyway, and then he's looking down at Liem's hand with plain surprise. For a second, Cardan's confused thoughts suggest that this is a -- proposal? like the ones he's read about in the mortal novels? -- but surely it cannot be. They've already had a wedding, and they have their rings.

Similarly alarming: the fact that Liem doesn't have much reason to be generous with Cardan at the moment.

...still, Cardan will not refuse him. He plucks the box from Liem's fingers gingerly, like he's not sure it won't bite him. Gifts are always fraught, for the fey: usually you get more than you bargained for. And in this set of circumstances--

He will open it very gently. ]

[Even after becoming wedded to a faerie man, and after making an effort to better understand the culture his spouse hails from, Liem is well aware that his knowledge of faerie customs surrounding gifts is woefully lacking. He knows that debts and promises have their own weight among the fey, and he knows that gifts and favours are to be repaid properly rather than with a simple thank you, but he does not fully understand the ginger way his husband takes the box from his fingers—and he feels like maybe he should.

But he is also occupied with the much more mundane and probably universal concern of hoping that Cardan is actually pleased by what he’s giving him, and although his expression remains patient, once he’s relinquished the box, he laces his fingers together to resist the urge to fidget nervously with his cuffs.

The box’s contents turns out not to be a ring, but a brooch. A large piece of polished amber forms the centrepiece, surrounded by shining, finely wrought leaves and enamelled wasps with jewelled wings. One more wasp lurks at the centre of the amber itself, creating the overall effect that the others are swarming around it.]

It took me some time to find something I was satisfied with, [he comments.] But you can consider this my wedding gift to you.

[ Cardan

stares.

He stares at the brooch, and then he looks up at Liem, and then he looks back to the brooch, to the delicate gemwork and the thoroughly faerie subject matter, and if he could manifest the words wedding gift in the air and stare at those, then he surely would have done so. ]

It's splendid.

[ It is. He touches it, fingertip caressing a filigreed edge. Of course it pleases him. How could it not? It's shocking that Liem should've guessed at his taste so well, though he supposes he is not exactly subtle in showing it.

But. ]

...I was not aware of such a tradition.

[ He says it as breezily as he is able -- though it still comes out more subdued than he'd like -- but it is a concern, and a pressing one. It is one thing not to repay a gift given freely, but to fail to give one when it is expected... ]

[Cardan’s obvious fascination with the brooch takes some of the tension out of Liem’s shoulders. He watches him examine it, seemingly unable to take his eyes from it, and feels better about the hours of footwork and the significant monetary investment involved in acquiring it. Splendid is just the sort of thought he’d hoped the piece might evoke.

Although Cardan does seem to have misunderstood something.]

It’s not a tradition, [he assures him.

He definitely would have had a gift ready by the day of the ceremony if that had been the case, rather than a few weeks late. But as this is really a gift of a more personal nature, he’d wanted to take the time necessary to acquire a gift that suited the man he’d ended up marrying. It was not difficult to determine that Cardan’s taste in adornments diverged from his own, but finding something of appropriate quality in an acceptably short amount of time—that had proved more challenging.]

I just wanted to give you something to… personally welcome you into my home. Especially since I managed so quickly [—pretty much immediately, actually—] to displease you.

[ Cardan’s eyes narrow a touch. Unbidden and unasked for, he recalls the words Liem spoke that very first night, right after everything went completely to shit the first time.

I will make it up to you. To your satisfaction.

He had taken them for an empty promise, the kind mortals (and vampires) ought to spend easily. After all, they cost them nothing, light and insubstantial as feathers, whereas every word out of Cardan’s mouth weighs him down with obligation. Why would anyone volunteer to take on such weight?

And yet, for the weeks that he’s known him, when has Liem not?

It’s become difficult to dismiss. Again and again, Liem has taken his pushing and responded with… patience. Not with the kind of glowering, barely-suppressed resentment Cardan is used to from his victims. Not with fear. Again and again, he has allowed Cardan to bring him discomfort, or difficulty, or distraction. To what end? He could not possibly stand to gain from such an involved deception. The idea exceeds even Cardan’s capacity for paranoia.

The image from last night flashes in his mind: the flushed cheeks, the shuttered expression. He hadn’t seen it before – not like that. It had filled him with the kind of sick excitement one feels at the moment just before falling. It seeps into him now, a shivery feeling, and he forces himself not to flinch away from it.

And then, this evening: I cancelled our appointments. Would you like to get out of the house?

Cardan takes a breath… and steps close, closer still. He has taken on whatever tension has left Liem’s shoulders into his own. ]

I do not understand, [ he says, and then stops– what? What doesn’t he understand? He frowns, frustrated, and starts again. ] I haven’t been kind to you. So why..?

[Liem would describe the look that touches Cardan’s face just then as wariness, maybe even outright suspicion—and in that moment he struggles not to succumb to sheer frustration at the challenge that his husband makes of trying to know him. He’d seemed so full of sharp little edges on their wedding night, so ready to bristle whenever Liem wasn’t quite what he’d wanted—which seemed to be most of the time. He still doesn’t even really know why.

Liem had thought he’d wanted to be appeased, and in the face of his confusion and disbelief, it’s difficult not to finally feel a little insulted at the continued refusal to give him even a single ounce of credit. Even though he has been nothing but up-front with Cardan since the night they were wed. Even though he’s accommodated him at every opportunity. Even though he came out here with him specifically to make peace with him.

The tentative ease of a moment before flees entirely when Cardan steps closer. Liem’s spine tightens like a compressed spring.]

We will remain wedded whether you are kind or not.

[His fingers have escaped their mutual clasp, and reflexively twitch the edges of his cuffs infinitesimally straighter. Why would Cardan be kind to a husband he felt had wronged him, enough to so consistently deserve his ire? And why would Liem expect such a thing? Cardan is not indiscriminately cruel; he is charming with Iago, and with the house servants. What frustration and hurt Liem has received from him, he’s surely earned.]

And I do not wish to spend our marriage waging a war against you.

[ It feels like they’re speaking different languages even while using the same words. If he thinks back on it, he realizes that it’s always felt a little like that.

Only now he thinks that he sees it, faintly, blink-and-miss-it like the edge of truth peeking through glamour. He still doesn’t truly understand, but he thinks – his eyes scanning Liem’s face, searching for something – that he sees the shape of something he didn't, before. Is it duty? Is he only committed to upholding his honor by obeying his father’s orders, no matter how difficult?

We do not have to remain wedded, he wants to say, and then doesn’t, because despite everything, he doesn’t want Liem to dissolve their vows and doesn’t think he would, anyway. In Faerie, it would have been a magnanimous offer, releasing Liem from further obligation to him. Here and now, he suspects it will only come off as another pointless rejection.

He closes the box with the brooch, quietly. ]

…I was unhappy long before I joined your household.

[ It’s a terse confession. His gaze slides off of Liem’s face, watching the boughs of the tree behind him, instead.

But if they have any chance of not talking past each other, perhaps it starts with giving Liem a dictionary. ]

Heading into a pit of vipers, I thought it would be best to be as venomous as possible. [ His mouth twists, briefly, in a humorless little smile. ] Not that I find this particularly difficult.

[ The next bit will be, however. He wrenches his eyes back to Liem’s; everything in him screams that this is a mistake.

But it would hardly be the first time. ]

I have been unfair.

I am sorry.

[ The words feel monstrously awkward in his mouth, like sand grains inside an oyster shell. ]

Edited 2022-11-24 19:40 (UTC)

[Liem blinks.

He blinks, and then he stares at Cardan, brows furrowing very slightly, very slowly, as he listens to him speak.

What he is saying sounds like an apology. It has the ring of explanation he has heard from his father many times, after he’s offended Liem’s sensibilities for the sake of his own convenience—though without the undercurrent of blame such explanations tend to feature. More perplexingly, he cannot fathom why Cardan would be apologizing to him, now, when he has already made it clear that he doesn’t wish to pursue a grudge against him regardless.

He cannot possibly have made Cardan feel guilty. And yet, Cardan also cannot lie.

There must be an angle here, somewhere. But he cannot find it.

And that is making him nervous.]

I don’t think venom is unwarranted here, [he says, slowly.]

I was not a joyful groom, and have not been entirely welcoming to you.

[ Cardan waits for Liem's reaction the way one would for a blow: with perfect stillness, his breathing even in a way that suggests he's forcing it to be so.

...Then Liem does respond, and his expression is replaced with something like horror-- right before he looks away, his iron grip over his body language faltering. The flood of heat in his face is unexpected and immediate. He doesn't know what he expected, but already he regrets all of the embarrassing, unpleasant choices he made to get here.

Princes don't admit they're wrong. They certainly don't apologize, and he understands why. It's humiliating. ]

I am not, [ he bites out, tightly, ] going to debate my apology with you.

[ He sounds appalled by the idea, like it's a new kind of torture he hadn't quite considered imagining.

His hand comes up to cover his mouth -- a futile attempt at hiding the extent of his fluster. ]

Accept it or reject it, but do not expect me to haggle.

Edited (word) 2022-11-25 13:54 (UTC)

[Cardan’s stricken look hits Liem all at once, like a roof’s worth of heavy snow sloughing onto an unwary passerby. No response he could have offered could have been more shocking than the suddenness with which he turns away, offering that taut, dismayed reply to the woods—and then, even more inconceivably, through his fingers.

No turn of events would ever have led Liem to expect the man he married, who has slept in his bed and dwelled in his home for the past few weeks, who laughed in his face when Liem stung his pride on the night of their wedding, to ever look so abjectly humiliated. It is simply beyond belief that he would commit himself to a ploy such as this, for any reason.

Liem is aghast.]

No, I’m sorry—that was clumsy of me.

[His fingers clench restlessly at his sides as he stares at his husband. He had simply never considered even the remote possibility that Cardan might truly apologize to him, for anything.]

I meant to say that I was not expecting you to apologize; that’s not why I came here with you. But…

[He pauses, navigating awkwardly around the waiting landmine of thank you.]

I do appreciate it, and I will accept it. I have not often understood you well, Cardan—but I would like to. Your honesty has value to me.

[ The irony of Liem's apologizing -- immediately and with far less struggle than Cardan -- does not escape him. Ordinarily he would take it as a sign of the difference in their stations, but currently he just feels like a child being soothed out of a tantrum.

Mortifying.

Still; he cannot deny a measure of relief when Liem accepts. Even if he's just humoring Cardan, it is better than the alternative. He had meant it when he'd said that Liem was free to reject him, but-- he hadn't had a plan for the eventuality.

Nonetheless, it is difficult to be gracious about it. In the end, all he manages is a nod, and a terse, ] Very well.

[ A beat. He closes his eyes and tries to regain some of the perspective lost in his embarrassment. ]

...I am going to sit on the hillside until I regain my normal colour.

[ That, at least, sounds less strained, though it's followed immediately by his stalking off. It is not Cardan's most dignified escape, nor his most skillful, but he does not think he can face Liem again before restoring some of his equilibrium. And what other option is there? They still need to return together. ]

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