[When Cardan says it like that, secret forest life, Liem feels a small pang of guilt tug at his chest. It’s been most of a year now since they were married, and months since he started letting his husband into more of his life, piece by piece. It is no secret to Liem that Cardan is jealous of the time they get to spend together, and keenly aware of the parts of Liem’s life that he isn’t involved in. He hasn’t exactly made a secret of his possessive side.
And Liem has continued to be jealous of his own secret places, even so. For reasons just like this—so he might still find refuges away from his husband when he wants to be weak for a little while. Even though he knows Cardan detests being avoided.
It has been unfair of Liem to keep this place from him.]
Come, then.
[For a moment he just squeezes Cardan tight. Then, moving back, he reaches for his husband’s hand so he can lead him back the way he’d come. The old, dark-furred wolf gets back to his feet and leads the way, clambering past the outcropping of stone and disappearing into the trees.
They don’t have to go far. After only a minute or so, the slope leads them to another slab of rock, this one sheltering an opening leading beneath. In the clearing in front of the den, Uncle greets the missing Echo, and another dark, brown-and-black wolf who is quite evidently the breeding female. Four tiny, stubby little pups gambol around the space, squeaking and clambering unsteadily on the adults and each other.
The mother is quick to approach, shadowing her pups as the visitors attract their attention. Liem crouches down when they arrive, so the tiny animals can toddle over and snuffle at his hands, while the mother sniffs first Liem and then Cardan.]
This is Tempest, and these are her new pups. They were born around the time you got back from the Undersea.
[They are still almost impossibly small. Compared to the full-grown adults, the pups look like little brown cotton balls.]
Hello, Mistress Tempest, [ says Cardan -- the first time he'd addressed any of the wolves directly. He knows enough to be wary of a mother with her young, if nothing else -- besides, her name is surely another warning. He assumes she'd earned it.
He won't even complain about being sniffed, this time, offering her his open palms instead. The nervous urge to smile tugs at his mouth.
Once she's done inspecting him, he, too, will crouch -- no, sit, lanky and cross-legged, right there on the forest floor. It feels admittedly vulnerable, to place his throat so close to a wolf's jaws, but he has no illusions about his chances, standing or not.
He will not make any effort to lure the pups closer, though observing their approach of Liem has made another smile threaten to appear on his lips. There is something about it that's delightfully incongruous: these tiny, carefree creatures with their stumpy little tails and their uncertain steps... and his husband: all long, elegant lines even when he's rumpled and covered in glittery fur. ]
...they are very round, for such ferocious beasts.
[It is easy to see why Liem might decide to come here seeking refuge from the troubles plaguing other parts of his life. The tiny pups are too young to understand such things; they are still trying to figure out why Liem and his partner are so leggy and furless, unlike every other creature they have yet known. He cannot help but smile a small, fond smile as the pups put unsteady paws on him and try to peer up at his face.
Tempest, judging Cardan acceptable for now, simply stays near to observe the proceedings, cautiously tolerant of this new development.]
They won’t remain so for long.
[Liem watches as most of the pups crowding him take note of Cardan’s available lap and begin trundling toward him in a ragged band, perhaps dissatisfied with Liem’s cold hands and wintery smell. Only a single pup remains to squeak at him, still trying to scale his leg, so Liem carefully sits down as well so he can plop the pup down on his lap.
Still letting the pup explore his person and occupy his hands, he aims his gaze curiously at his husband. It is rare enough for him to see Cardan look particularly gentle while fully awake and clothed; he cannot help the foolish little flare of warmth that pulses in his chest when he sees the trio of pups trying to conquer Cardan’s lap like a rugged mountain top.]
Ash and Juniper were born just last year, but already they’re formidable. So I like to visit while the pups are still small, while I can.
[ Unlike Liem, Cardan makes no move to assist the small troop of wobbly wolflings, only raising his eyebrows in mild surprise at their determined approach. But, he supposes, they must be curious. He must smell especially strange, made of magic as he is -- and they have, evidently, met Liem before.
They are truly, tremendously small, with grubby little paws and the fearless focus of stupid children. And... warm, he realizes, when the first one triumphs, scrabbling up into his lap. It startles him; somehow, it feels like he hasn't touched anyone warm-blooded in some time.
He'll allow the small animal to poke its wet little nose against his hand, although only in return for tapping one long finger gently against the tip of said nose. Fair is fair. ]
That is difficult to imagine, [ he'll tell Liem, a little distractedly. There are three points of unsteady, warm, soft chaos happening both in and around his lap; he's not entirely sure what he's supposed to do with any of them. ]
And how terrible, to leave behind the carefree plumpness of one's youth. [ Well, they do seem happy, pursuing their own mysterious goals and their besiegement of his person. He glances over at Liem, noting the pup he'd scooped up. He suspects neither he nor his husband were ever allowed to be quite this fluffy and unburdened by expectation, not even in their early childhood. ]
[Liem observes with a soft expression as his husband’s lap is slowly, clumsily invaded by furry little animals. Visiting the wolves often does much to put him at ease, and on this particular occasion, with Cardan fielding their curiosity, he can’t help the little smile of endearment that creeps onto his face. Cardan seems uncommonly at a loss for what to do with the pups busily exploring his person, and Liem intends to enjoy his husband’s charming bemusement while it lasts.]
Not so. Children have plenty of cares: they are simply very small.
[As if to illustrate this, the pup in his lap, which is currently attempting to scale the front of his shirt to no real success, lets out a whimpering cry at the injustice of the trial it is facing. Looking down at the little creature, Liem leans back to better accommodate its efforts, tilting his face down so that when it scrambles a few steps up his body, he can lean in and touch noses with it. When he strokes its soft puppy fur, his hands seem almost to envelop it completely.]
[ He looks up at the plaintive sound from Liem's direction, momentarily distracted from his own tiny interlopers -- and blinks. For all that he's often been subject to Liem's tenderness, he's never seen him so with anyone else. It feels almost uncomfortably intimate, like watching something he wasn't meant to see.
He doesn't contradict Liem, though he doesn't particularly agree. Getting embroiled in an argument on childhood burdens is far from his intent, and they have other depressing topics yet to tackle.
...and yet, he hesitates. He doesn't want to do it yet -- Liem looks so peaceful, with the stubby-tailed pup in his hands, surrounded by the beauty of a spring night. It feels perverse to bring the house's disappointments here. And yet: would it not be even worse to do it back at the estate, which always feels so stifling and cave-like after a sojourn to the forest?
He has to look away to hide the way his mouth flattens at the thought. In fact, he twists away entirely, reaching behind himself and under his jacket, beneath the layer of his shirt... to pull out his own long tail. This, at least, feels like a relief -- for all that he is used to keeping it hidden, the cool air and freedom of movement feel lovely, and it's not like there is anyone here whom he cares about seeing the appendage.
He's stalling. It's cowardice, and he knows it. But if cowardice means watching Liem be happily occupied with his pets a while longer, then so be it: bravery was never his defining feature anyway. ]
[If Liem were inclined to please only himself, he would spend the rest of the night out here doing only this: being part of the pack, letting Tempest’s pups climb on him and forgetting every single care that had hounded him at home, as a man. He is not really like the wolves he visits, he knows, but immersing himself in their lives for a short while feels like the simplest thing in the world. He wishes he could indulge in it for longer.
After a moment, Cardan’s silence draws his eye. He looks over to see his husband fish his tail out from beneath his clothing, apparently unperturbed by the risk of it becoming a toy for curious wolflings. The sight reminds him a little of the last time Cardan had freed his tail while they were in the woods, back during the depths of winter, and the memory of that outing makes pleasure glow low in his chest.
Still, his husband’s quiet tightens a little knot of anxiety there, too. It is probably nothing—a lull that he can’t help but read into, even without cause. But even so, the urge to fill the silence wells up in him, regardless of his current occupation with he pup roaming his chest.]
[ The glance Cardan casts Liem’s way is half-lidded, nearly coy — or it would be, for anyone who hadn’t noticed the nervous tapping of his tail and the careful way he has relaxed his shoulders. Liem looks relaxed, happy even.
He hates the thing he’s about to do. He doesn’t know whether he hates himself or Iago more for it. ]
You told me, [ he starts, carefully, ] that I could ask after your troubles, Liem.
[ It’s arguable, given that Cardan had just fainted from blood depletion, that Liem’s concession had been made under duress. But so are most concessions — and he doesn’t think his husband expected to be called on this one, anyway. This is in his favour, he thinks; Liem is so much more dangerous when he’s prepared. ]
[To say that Liem didn’t expect this would be a lie. Cardan hunted him all the way into the forest, tracked him down to drag his interaction with his father out into the open, and even when Liem had tried to close the matter, he had known his husband was still dissatisfied with the result. He suspected, even then, that he would bring it up again.
He just hadn’t expected Cardan to do it this way. He has no defense for it when Cardan leads with you told me that I could ask, because he does remember saying it, and he cannot bring himself to go back on his word.
Even if he loathes the idea of laying bare his feelings about this, and he cannot imagine a scenario in which doing so doesn’t make him feel even more lowly than before.
For a long moment, he just returns Cardan’s look in silence.]
The infrastructure report for Fifiel, [he says crisply. The report on one of the estate’s outlying settlements, which he’d been devoting every spare moment to for the last two days. The report that the contractors had been nearly a full week late delivering the data for.] My father was dissatisfied at the news that it would be late. He thinks I… [His mouth twitches, tightens, and then his tone turns bitter—even mocking.] I haven’t been managing my time effectively.
[ He waits; it feels like he's waiting forever, perfectly still except for his tail and the tips of his fingers, which stroke idly over a pup's velvet-soft fluff. He doesn't realize he's doing it -- certainly he doesn't mean to pet any of the wolves. But he can't pet Liem, who is too far away and not looking particularly happy with him, anyway. And so.
Cardan had, admittedly, expected bullshit -- he'd been expecting (and experiencing) bullshit from the moment he'd stepped across the threshold to Iago's chambers. But the thing Liem actually tells him makes his eyebrows fly up so high that they nearly escape his face altogether.
For a few moments, it actually renders him a little speechless. He doesn't say the first thing that comes to mind, which is, once again, Bullshit. Something about Liem's tone arrests him. He's seen his husband upset, overwhelmed, betrayed, annoyed -- but Cardan isn't entirely certain he'd ever seen him this acridly scornful. ]
[Perhaps, if Liem is sufficiently compelling while painting Iago as the villain, Cardan will not question why Liem is out here in the forest, away from his father’s influence. Perhaps he could spin the tale so his reaction sounds reasonable, instead of embarrassing and childish. Cardan seems willing enough to assume that Iago must have wronged him, for him to have come here; he’d surely believe such a story.
Liem almost wishes he could lie, now—or at least embellish. He knows the truth alone will be underwhelming. But he knows he’s not going to, no matter how much he’s going to hate discussing his own inadequacies so nakedly. The idea of deceiving Cardan to avoid it repulses him.]
Oh, he always hates it when I try to squirrel out of things.
[Liem smiles, bitterly. Even trying to reschedule an obligation to his father often ends up being cast thus: as failing him in some way, and just trying to wriggle out of it. After all, if Liem had organized his nights properly, had kept on task, had properly utilized his time, he wouldn’t struggle to meet his deadlines, now would he?
It is just that usually, even when his father frustrates him, Liem is better at keeping his disappointment to himself. Now, the misery of a brief hour ago bubbles up in him again, pushing a grin onto his face like oil scum on water.]
He said that even if the data was late, I should have been able to catch up, with the amount of time I have. And I could hardly tell him everything else I’ve been doing with it! So.
[ The grin is alarming -- partially because that's new, too, and partially because there's something thoroughly unnatural in it, like he's speaking to an imposter wearing his husband's face. He wonders if this is what he looks like when he's feeling particularly bitter -- but no, probably not. For all that Liem seems miserable, Cardan doesn't think that his husband has the capacity for looking cruel.
He doesn't smile back. He doesn't show much of an expression at all, though his focus on Liem is unerring. ]
I don't think that's the thing that he hates.
[ He says, to the son of a man he's known for less than a year.
Nor will he elaborate, thank you very much. Instead, he considers Liem, and tries to ignore the guilt pooling heavily in his belly like sour wine. This is his fault. He is the one who takes all of Liem's time -- him and the impossible scheme he'd let them be drawn into.
But he doesn't have room to wallow now. That's what the daylight hours are for, when Liem is sleeping, nestled safely against his chest -- assuming his husband still wishes to be so after the conversation they're about to have.
He doesn't even note the pups taking notice of his tail. ]
When was the last time you've quarrelled like this?
[Even as he tells Cardan some of his woes, reveals more about the many ways in which his father might be unhappy with him, he feels the familiar wretched prickle of nerves blooming giddy in his stomach. All the irreverence he never seems able to summon with his father suddenly paints itself over him like eye-spots on a butterfly’s wings, false and gaily threatening, refusing the idea of comfort.]
Oh? He could certainly fool me.
[Cardan’s comment earns a raise of his brows. Liem’s father may find multiple things about him frustrating, but he is quite certain Iago does indeed dislike this, too. He is not entirely certain what Cardan is implying here.
The pup in his hands has unwittingly signed up for snuggle duty, fielding his restless stroking as his hands seek some output for his unhappy energy. Fortunately, the little creature seems oblivious to his anxiety, and has taken this opportunity to use his lap as a place to nap.]
But anyway, it’s not a regular occurrence. [He glances away, back at the other wolves lying around the clearing. Liem has grown skilled, over the years, at avoiding his father’s ire. Most often, he is easy enough to placate.] The last time was months ago, before your trip to the Undersea.
[ It seems that the more Liem's restlessness waxes, the more Cardan's wanes. Despite his husband's decidedly odd energies, despite the infuriating subject, despite the fact that he's almost certainly walking into a field full of spiked traps -- there is a strange, terrible calm spreading through him. He doesn't like this kind of certainty. It typically precedes his doing something awful.
The plump little wolf that had been in his own lap has scrambled off of it, ostensibly bored with Cardan's attentions. He folds his hands instead, making a conscious effort not to worry at his rings. ]
Would you-- ow. What...
[ The what is, of course, a pup: one who has used the distraction of adult business to pounce, ambitiously, onto the ever-twitchy tuft of Cardan's tail. This is probably justice: he, who has bitten many in his childhood, indeed deserves to suffer the assault of the pup's small but determined teeth.
This does not mean he's not going to glower and reach over to attempt removal of the wolf by its scruff. ]
[For Liem, who did not want to have this conversation at all, and who still wishes to be done with it, the periodic distraction provided by the local wolves is most welcome. Though his gaze had been turned toward the lounging forms of the nearby adults, wistfully recalling that he had been cuddled up with them only minutes earlier, Cardan’s startled exclamation draws his attention back to the pups ambling about their persons. The sight of one of them attacking his husband’s vulnerable tail makes a tiny smile tug at the corner of his mouth.]
They can be rambunctious, [he observes, as the pup in his own lap dozes on, completely dead to the world. Still, the pups are yet small and wobbly, tiny bundles of fluff with newly-emerged milk teeth; should Cardan visit them again in the fall, he might find their playfulness considerably more energetic, in addition to being better armed.
But he may wish to reconsider his impulse toward the pup assaulting his tail. Even as he reaches toward it, a brief snarl rumbles from the nearby Tempest, whose lips have peeled back to display very large, pointed teeth. Though she remains seated, her feelings about Cardan’s manners are clear.]
[ Cardan does not, in fact, reconsider his impulses -- if anything, Tempest seems to provoke a reaction so immediate it couldn't possibly have been anything but deeply seated instinct. He draws himself up and snarls back, ignoring Liem entirely, his own teeth bared if far less impressive.
Though he will only set the pup down, a ways away from his smarting tail. ]
They are impertinent, [ he growls, more to the wolf than to Liem. His eyes are still on her; his tail thumps against the ground like that of an irritated cat. It's not like she doesn't make him nervous -- she could, no doubt, kill him with very little effort -- but his pride ever supersedes his sense of self-preservation.
Besides, as far as he's concerned, he's doing her a service. ]
A fine quality, used judiciously. They should know to make the distinction.
[It’s probably preposterous for Liem to feel affection, of all things, at the sight of the pack’s lead female and his husband snarling at each other, but he can’t help it. The warm bloom of it startles him, abrupt and unexpected, at Cardan’s immediate response to Tempest’s admonishment. He can’t help but think that if he wasn’t already married to the man sitting in this clearing with him, he would now be bludgeoned with the insistent, hungry desire to correct the oversight.
It is just as well that Cardan is more focused on the wolf than on him. That just gives Liem free license to watch.
They’re not the only ones, he hears Tempest growl, but she only leans down to grab the wayward pup in her mouth, picking it up to disappear into the den with her over-playful offspring. Liem watches her depart with a smile, and glances again at Cardan as she re-emerges to retrieve another one of her children, presumably to collect them all for a feed and a nap.]
I should have introduced you earlier, [he decides.] I hadn’t guessed you’d charm even Tempest so readily.
[She didn’t even bowl him over or snap at his fingers for his cheek. Practically a warm welcome, by her standards.]
[ Cardan's intent gaze stays on Tempest until Liem speaks; only then does it slide toward his husband, and only then does the prim line of his shoulders ease. It is gratifying to see Liem smile in a way that looks real -- not the strained expression he'd sported just a minute ago.
Although he's not entirely sure that his spouse isn't making fun of him. ]
Her name suits her.
[ But that's fine. They've both made their feelings known, and now it is over. Perhaps it will be enough for the wolf not to judge him a hen-hearted fool.
His gaze lingers on Liem. As always, his husband's smiles make him look younger; in this particular scenario, Liem's smile also makes Cardan want to lay his head in his lap, close his eyes, and forget about the difficult conversation he was trying to have before the interruption. Since he cannot do this, he reaches out to draw his fingers over Liem's cool cheek instead, unable to suppress his slight frown as he does. ]
[It is only now, with Cardan’s soft fingers caressing his cheek, that Liem is able to field his husband’s questions without immediately tensing up and readying himself for a fight. The urge is there, even now, making his chest go a little tight with anxiety—but he yearns far too much for Cardan’s tenderness not to submit to it every single time, wariness or no. Even as his smile deflates at the words, subsiding again into a puzzled frown, he covets the touch too keenly to pull away.
He still doesn’t understand why Cardan insists on dragging this out of him. Maybe it is because Cardan so clearly has nothing at all to do with his own father; or maybe this inquisition stems in some way from his relationship with Balekin. Regardless of the cause, there surely can be only one answer to such questions, no matter how Cardan tries to broach them.]
He is my father.
[Liem says it like this should be all the answer anyone could need. After all, shouldn’t it be obvious? His father sired him, taught him and raised him; he cares for him and protects him; he even allows Liem his freedom in most things. Much as Liem resents the friction between them, he also loves him, and relies on him more than he’d like to admit.
Perhaps his father does care more about raising Liem to be a good and capable heir than he cares about his son’s feelings in the present, but that’s no one’s burden but Liem’s, regardless. There is, he has come to understand, something brittle and misshapen in him that makes him ill fit the manicured role his father would slot him into. Maybe he was made wrong, or maybe he never quite put himself together right after the times he was broken. He feels the friction of it grind him down year by year, and while eventually he might be worn smooth, sometimes the process is too much to bear.
But he does not want to explain this to Cardan, and doesn’t know how he would even if he tried.]
We are different people, [he says eventually.] But he is not wrong to express disappointment that his expectations weren’t met. And I don’t need to be coddled like a child.
[ It has become apparent to Cardan, over the past hour or two, that he fundamentally fails to understand this aspect of Liem's relationship with his father. But as he watches his husband frown and choose his words carefully, like they might prick him if he doesn't arrange them just so -- as he catalogues this strangely tortured confession -- a horrible suspicion begins to creep up on him.
He is not the right person for this conversation. He, who is callous, who has never had much love for his family at all, who grew up wild as an alley cat -- how could he begin to untangle something as thorny as this trap Iago has set for them? Cardan's circumstances have been simple for a long time now: he resents his family, and they disdain him in return. He suspects Liem resents his father also -- but if so, then it clearly has not prevented him from desiring his approval all the same.
And still, because he is a fool, he cannot bring himself to let it go. His fingers slip from Liem's cheek, wander down to take his hand instead. ]
I do not believe your father is a simpleton, [ he starts, promisingly, ] and so I know he understands that you cannot still the flow of time.
[ His brow quirks. ]
While this is a sincere flaw of yours, I think you'll find you share it with most men, His Grace included.
[ He's still stalling. He still doesn't want to say the thing he knows he needs to say, and he doesn't want to look at Liem while he does it. If he didn't loathe Iago before, he is certainly well on his way now. ]
[When Cardan slides his fingers down to take Liem’s cool hand in his, Liem squeezes gently, still caught on the tentative boundary between warm affection and mistrust. He has always been pleased to have Cardan’s warm, soft hand in his, right from that first, fragile night they were wed. He cannot think of a conversation that wouldn’t be improved, made more comforting by his husband’s hand joined gently to his; only, he feels wary of the genesis of that comfort.
Too often, in the past, he has come to find that such kindnesses carried a hidden cost.]
You know that isn’t the problem, [he murmurs, wishing he was still letting Cardan hold him, feeling foolish for the thought. This, after he just proclaimed he had no need to be coddled.
It has been obvious to Liem for some time that his father has grown unhappy with the amount of energy Liem devotes to his husband. Quite clearly, his father would prefer he leave the disfavoured third prince of Elfhame to his own devices and tend his household duties with more attention. Cardan summed up the reason quite succinctly months ago, and while Liem knows his husband couldn’t manage any enthusiasm for the proclamation, Iago certainly believes their marriage fulfilled its whole purpose within weeks of the ceremony, and could quite reasonably be concluded at any time.
But although his father is adept at making Liem wish to please him, Liem refuses to so readily toss aside his devotion to the partner he has come to love.]
[ He doesn't answer right away. Instead, Cardan will lift Liem's hand to his mouth, pressing a kiss to his knuckles, his expression oddly solemn. He keeps Liem's fingers there for a moment; their coolness ever feels like a balm against the anxiety prickling under his skin. When he does go to speak, he will only tip his chin up so that he can tuck Liem's hand under it, as if it will keep his husband close no matter what unpleasant thing Cardan tells him. ]
He spent an hour suggesting that you were choosing to work too much. Intimated that it was unnecessary, made unkind jokes at your expense -- to which I laughed, just like a nice little lapdog ought to.
[ He says this in the measured, unhurried tone of someone relaying a grocery list. Of course, said list is incomplete: Cardan had also made unkind jokes at Liem's expense. It's just that he isn't going to admit to those; if Iago desires strife between them, he's not going to find Cardan doing all his work for him.
His gaze had settled somewhere in the vicinity of Liem's collarbones. Now it flickers up, to his husband's eyes; Cardan's own are flat with scorn. ]
Don't tell me that isn't revolting, Liem. Of him or of me.
[No matter how familiar Liem is with his father, how much cause he has to predict what kind of thing Cardan is going to tell him, when Cardan reveals how he and Iago spent that hour, the revelation still stings. He feels the hurt of it trying to tunnel out of his chest as he meets Cardan’s scornful gaze, trying to keep his own expression solemn and unmoved.
Even though he knows his father cares nothing at all for his happiness in his marriage, being reminded in this way still aches cruelly.]
That does sound like him, [he says woodenly. How very like his father, to think that because he has no use for his son’s continued marriage, Liem should wash his hands of it as well. Even if Liem has been fighting tooth and nail to keep it whole. He hasn’t told his father that he loves Cardan, but he fears horribly that this wouldn’t change Iago’s decisions on this matter one iota.
But he does not dare linger for too long on this thought—not when Cardan remains right beside him, with his fingers still clasped around his and his eyes still intent on his face.]
We did agree, though, to pretend to be at odds. If anything… I should be glad Iago still feels his unkind jokes will land.
[ Liem's hollow response pangs through Cardan's chest, but this, at least, he had anticipated. Not that it does him much good. His mouth twitches with ill-suppressed emotion; without thinking, he curls his free hand over Liem's cheek, cradling his face. He wants to pull him close; Cardan wants to hold him like he had earlier, when Liem had grasped for him like he was the last solid thing in the world.
It takes effort to keep his voice level. ]
And are you? Glad.
[ That's probably unkind, too -- calling Liem on this, when he's so obviously trying to keep himself together. As if Cardan hadn't just thrown another insult in his face, then demanded condemnation like Liem owed him anything at all.
But he doesn't know what else to do. Never before has he known anyone to shy from revenge as much as Liem has. From the very beginning, his husband has stubbornly taken on responsibilities and burdens that weren't his own -- ever patient, ever long-suffering. Cardan hadn't known what to make of it, not for a long time. He still isn't certain he understands it entirely, but as the months have marched on, he has come to suspect it is the result of some terrible wound Liem had sustained. Some fear so awful that he would rather choose self-reproach than give up the pretense of control.
He just hadn't expected it to go this far.
He thinks of Liem's miserable face in that hallway, and he thinks of Iago, smiling, a smug spider growing fat off his captive prey. ]
[When Cardan reaches again to cup his cheek, Liem’s facade almost cracks. Unkind resentment throws itself against it, making his mouth twitch and then firm as he stares at his husband. Cardan must know that his pushing, his gentleness, his questions are making it harder for Liem to keep pretending. He wishes desperately that Cardan would just let this lie, as he so obviously would prefer. There is no purpose in laying bare Liem’s hurt for them both to scrutinize.]
No. Of course not.
[He does frown now, accusing. And, though this somehow feels crueller than anything Cardan has earned with his greed for Liem’s secrets, he turns his face away from his husband’s touch, tugs his hand free of his grasp, letting it fall to his lap with the other.]
What do you want from me, Cardan? Of course I am not glad. I did not trek all the way out here to escape the house’s shadow because I was glad.
[He came out here to get away from his father, and if he is being perfectly honest, he came to get away from Cardan as well. It was only his own short-sightedness that made him fail to consider that his husband might come and find him regardless.]
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And Liem has continued to be jealous of his own secret places, even so. For reasons just like this—so he might still find refuges away from his husband when he wants to be weak for a little while. Even though he knows Cardan detests being avoided.
It has been unfair of Liem to keep this place from him.]
Come, then.
[For a moment he just squeezes Cardan tight. Then, moving back, he reaches for his husband’s hand so he can lead him back the way he’d come. The old, dark-furred wolf gets back to his feet and leads the way, clambering past the outcropping of stone and disappearing into the trees.
They don’t have to go far. After only a minute or so, the slope leads them to another slab of rock, this one sheltering an opening leading beneath. In the clearing in front of the den, Uncle greets the missing Echo, and another dark, brown-and-black wolf who is quite evidently the breeding female. Four tiny, stubby little pups gambol around the space, squeaking and clambering unsteadily on the adults and each other.
The mother is quick to approach, shadowing her pups as the visitors attract their attention. Liem crouches down when they arrive, so the tiny animals can toddle over and snuffle at his hands, while the mother sniffs first Liem and then Cardan.]
This is Tempest, and these are her new pups. They were born around the time you got back from the Undersea.
[They are still almost impossibly small. Compared to the full-grown adults, the pups look like little brown cotton balls.]
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He won't even complain about being sniffed, this time, offering her his open palms instead. The nervous urge to smile tugs at his mouth.
Once she's done inspecting him, he, too, will crouch -- no, sit, lanky and cross-legged, right there on the forest floor. It feels admittedly vulnerable, to place his throat so close to a wolf's jaws, but he has no illusions about his chances, standing or not.
He will not make any effort to lure the pups closer, though observing their approach of Liem has made another smile threaten to appear on his lips. There is something about it that's delightfully incongruous: these tiny, carefree creatures with their stumpy little tails and their uncertain steps... and his husband: all long, elegant lines even when he's rumpled and covered in glittery fur. ]
...they are very round, for such ferocious beasts.
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Tempest, judging Cardan acceptable for now, simply stays near to observe the proceedings, cautiously tolerant of this new development.]
They won’t remain so for long.
[Liem watches as most of the pups crowding him take note of Cardan’s available lap and begin trundling toward him in a ragged band, perhaps dissatisfied with Liem’s cold hands and wintery smell. Only a single pup remains to squeak at him, still trying to scale his leg, so Liem carefully sits down as well so he can plop the pup down on his lap.
Still letting the pup explore his person and occupy his hands, he aims his gaze curiously at his husband. It is rare enough for him to see Cardan look particularly gentle while fully awake and clothed; he cannot help the foolish little flare of warmth that pulses in his chest when he sees the trio of pups trying to conquer Cardan’s lap like a rugged mountain top.]
Ash and Juniper were born just last year, but already they’re formidable. So I like to visit while the pups are still small, while I can.
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They are truly, tremendously small, with grubby little paws and the fearless focus of stupid children. And... warm, he realizes, when the first one triumphs, scrabbling up into his lap. It startles him; somehow, it feels like he hasn't touched anyone warm-blooded in some time.
He'll allow the small animal to poke its wet little nose against his hand, although only in return for tapping one long finger gently against the tip of said nose. Fair is fair. ]
That is difficult to imagine, [ he'll tell Liem, a little distractedly. There are three points of unsteady, warm, soft chaos happening both in and around his lap; he's not entirely sure what he's supposed to do with any of them. ]
And how terrible, to leave behind the carefree plumpness of one's youth. [ Well, they do seem happy, pursuing their own mysterious goals and their besiegement of his person. He glances over at Liem, noting the pup he'd scooped up. He suspects neither he nor his husband were ever allowed to be quite this fluffy and unburdened by expectation, not even in their early childhood. ]
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Not so. Children have plenty of cares: they are simply very small.
[As if to illustrate this, the pup in his lap, which is currently attempting to scale the front of his shirt to no real success, lets out a whimpering cry at the injustice of the trial it is facing. Looking down at the little creature, Liem leans back to better accommodate its efforts, tilting his face down so that when it scrambles a few steps up his body, he can lean in and touch noses with it. When he strokes its soft puppy fur, his hands seem almost to envelop it completely.]
Hello to you too, little climber.
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He doesn't contradict Liem, though he doesn't particularly agree. Getting embroiled in an argument on childhood burdens is far from his intent, and they have other depressing topics yet to tackle.
...and yet, he hesitates. He doesn't want to do it yet -- Liem looks so peaceful, with the stubby-tailed pup in his hands, surrounded by the beauty of a spring night. It feels perverse to bring the house's disappointments here. And yet: would it not be even worse to do it back at the estate, which always feels so stifling and cave-like after a sojourn to the forest?
He has to look away to hide the way his mouth flattens at the thought. In fact, he twists away entirely, reaching behind himself and under his jacket, beneath the layer of his shirt... to pull out his own long tail. This, at least, feels like a relief -- for all that he is used to keeping it hidden, the cool air and freedom of movement feel lovely, and it's not like there is anyone here whom he cares about seeing the appendage.
He's stalling. It's cowardice, and he knows it. But if cowardice means watching Liem be happily occupied with his pets a while longer, then so be it: bravery was never his defining feature anyway. ]
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After a moment, Cardan’s silence draws his eye. He looks over to see his husband fish his tail out from beneath his clothing, apparently unperturbed by the risk of it becoming a toy for curious wolflings. The sight reminds him a little of the last time Cardan had freed his tail while they were in the woods, back during the depths of winter, and the memory of that outing makes pleasure glow low in his chest.
Still, his husband’s quiet tightens a little knot of anxiety there, too. It is probably nothing—a lull that he can’t help but read into, even without cause. But even so, the urge to fill the silence wells up in him, regardless of his current occupation with he pup roaming his chest.]
What is on your mind, husband?
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He hates the thing he’s about to do. He doesn’t know whether he hates himself or Iago more for it. ]
You told me, [ he starts, carefully, ] that I could ask after your troubles, Liem.
[ It’s arguable, given that Cardan had just fainted from blood depletion, that Liem’s concession had been made under duress. But so are most concessions — and he doesn’t think his husband expected to be called on this one, anyway. This is in his favour, he thinks; Liem is so much more dangerous when he’s prepared. ]
And so I am asking.
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He just hadn’t expected Cardan to do it this way. He has no defense for it when Cardan leads with you told me that I could ask, because he does remember saying it, and he cannot bring himself to go back on his word.
Even if he loathes the idea of laying bare his feelings about this, and he cannot imagine a scenario in which doing so doesn’t make him feel even more lowly than before.
For a long moment, he just returns Cardan’s look in silence.]
The infrastructure report for Fifiel, [he says crisply. The report on one of the estate’s outlying settlements, which he’d been devoting every spare moment to for the last two days. The report that the contractors had been nearly a full week late delivering the data for.] My father was dissatisfied at the news that it would be late. He thinks I… [His mouth twitches, tightens, and then his tone turns bitter—even mocking.] I haven’t been managing my time effectively.
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Cardan had, admittedly, expected bullshit -- he'd been expecting (and experiencing) bullshit from the moment he'd stepped across the threshold to Iago's chambers. But the thing Liem actually tells him makes his eyebrows fly up so high that they nearly escape his face altogether.
For a few moments, it actually renders him a little speechless. He doesn't say the first thing that comes to mind, which is, once again, Bullshit. Something about Liem's tone arrests him. He's seen his husband upset, overwhelmed, betrayed, annoyed -- but Cardan isn't entirely certain he'd ever seen him this acridly scornful. ]
...he said this to you?
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Liem almost wishes he could lie, now—or at least embellish. He knows the truth alone will be underwhelming. But he knows he’s not going to, no matter how much he’s going to hate discussing his own inadequacies so nakedly. The idea of deceiving Cardan to avoid it repulses him.]
Oh, he always hates it when I try to squirrel out of things.
[Liem smiles, bitterly. Even trying to reschedule an obligation to his father often ends up being cast thus: as failing him in some way, and just trying to wriggle out of it. After all, if Liem had organized his nights properly, had kept on task, had properly utilized his time, he wouldn’t struggle to meet his deadlines, now would he?
It is just that usually, even when his father frustrates him, Liem is better at keeping his disappointment to himself. Now, the misery of a brief hour ago bubbles up in him again, pushing a grin onto his face like oil scum on water.]
He said that even if the data was late, I should have been able to catch up, with the amount of time I have. And I could hardly tell him everything else I’ve been doing with it! So.
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He doesn't smile back. He doesn't show much of an expression at all, though his focus on Liem is unerring. ]
I don't think that's the thing that he hates.
[ He says, to the son of a man he's known for less than a year.
Nor will he elaborate, thank you very much. Instead, he considers Liem, and tries to ignore the guilt pooling heavily in his belly like sour wine. This is his fault. He is the one who takes all of Liem's time -- him and the impossible scheme he'd let them be drawn into.
But he doesn't have room to wallow now. That's what the daylight hours are for, when Liem is sleeping, nestled safely against his chest -- assuming his husband still wishes to be so after the conversation they're about to have.
He doesn't even note the pups taking notice of his tail. ]
When was the last time you've quarrelled like this?
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Oh? He could certainly fool me.
[Cardan’s comment earns a raise of his brows. Liem’s father may find multiple things about him frustrating, but he is quite certain Iago does indeed dislike this, too. He is not entirely certain what Cardan is implying here.
The pup in his hands has unwittingly signed up for snuggle duty, fielding his restless stroking as his hands seek some output for his unhappy energy. Fortunately, the little creature seems oblivious to his anxiety, and has taken this opportunity to use his lap as a place to nap.]
But anyway, it’s not a regular occurrence. [He glances away, back at the other wolves lying around the clearing. Liem has grown skilled, over the years, at avoiding his father’s ire. Most often, he is easy enough to placate.] The last time was months ago, before your trip to the Undersea.
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The plump little wolf that had been in his own lap has scrambled off of it, ostensibly bored with Cardan's attentions. He folds his hands instead, making a conscious effort not to worry at his rings. ]
Would you-- ow. What...
[ The what is, of course, a pup: one who has used the distraction of adult business to pounce, ambitiously, onto the ever-twitchy tuft of Cardan's tail. This is probably justice: he, who has bitten many in his childhood, indeed deserves to suffer the assault of the pup's small but determined teeth.
This does not mean he's not going to glower and reach over to attempt removal of the wolf by its scruff. ]
Cease that, you little--
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They can be rambunctious, [he observes, as the pup in his own lap dozes on, completely dead to the world. Still, the pups are yet small and wobbly, tiny bundles of fluff with newly-emerged milk teeth; should Cardan visit them again in the fall, he might find their playfulness considerably more energetic, in addition to being better armed.
But he may wish to reconsider his impulse toward the pup assaulting his tail. Even as he reaches toward it, a brief snarl rumbles from the nearby Tempest, whose lips have peeled back to display very large, pointed teeth. Though she remains seated, her feelings about Cardan’s manners are clear.]
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Though he will only set the pup down, a ways away from his smarting tail. ]
They are impertinent, [ he growls, more to the wolf than to Liem. His eyes are still on her; his tail thumps against the ground like that of an irritated cat. It's not like she doesn't make him nervous -- she could, no doubt, kill him with very little effort -- but his pride ever supersedes his sense of self-preservation.
Besides, as far as he's concerned, he's doing her a service. ]
A fine quality, used judiciously. They should know to make the distinction.
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It is just as well that Cardan is more focused on the wolf than on him. That just gives Liem free license to watch.
They’re not the only ones, he hears Tempest growl, but she only leans down to grab the wayward pup in her mouth, picking it up to disappear into the den with her over-playful offspring. Liem watches her depart with a smile, and glances again at Cardan as she re-emerges to retrieve another one of her children, presumably to collect them all for a feed and a nap.]
I should have introduced you earlier, [he decides.] I hadn’t guessed you’d charm even Tempest so readily.
[She didn’t even bowl him over or snap at his fingers for his cheek. Practically a warm welcome, by her standards.]
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Although he's not entirely sure that his spouse isn't making fun of him. ]
Her name suits her.
[ But that's fine. They've both made their feelings known, and now it is over. Perhaps it will be enough for the wolf not to judge him a hen-hearted fool.
His gaze lingers on Liem. As always, his husband's smiles make him look younger; in this particular scenario, Liem's smile also makes Cardan want to lay his head in his lap, close his eyes, and forget about the difficult conversation he was trying to have before the interruption. Since he cannot do this, he reaches out to draw his fingers over Liem's cool cheek instead, unable to suppress his slight frown as he does. ]
Why did you defend him?
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He still doesn’t understand why Cardan insists on dragging this out of him. Maybe it is because Cardan so clearly has nothing at all to do with his own father; or maybe this inquisition stems in some way from his relationship with Balekin. Regardless of the cause, there surely can be only one answer to such questions, no matter how Cardan tries to broach them.]
He is my father.
[Liem says it like this should be all the answer anyone could need. After all, shouldn’t it be obvious? His father sired him, taught him and raised him; he cares for him and protects him; he even allows Liem his freedom in most things. Much as Liem resents the friction between them, he also loves him, and relies on him more than he’d like to admit.
Perhaps his father does care more about raising Liem to be a good and capable heir than he cares about his son’s feelings in the present, but that’s no one’s burden but Liem’s, regardless. There is, he has come to understand, something brittle and misshapen in him that makes him ill fit the manicured role his father would slot him into. Maybe he was made wrong, or maybe he never quite put himself together right after the times he was broken. He feels the friction of it grind him down year by year, and while eventually he might be worn smooth, sometimes the process is too much to bear.
But he does not want to explain this to Cardan, and doesn’t know how he would even if he tried.]
We are different people, [he says eventually.] But he is not wrong to express disappointment that his expectations weren’t met. And I don’t need to be coddled like a child.
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He is not the right person for this conversation. He, who is callous, who has never had much love for his family at all, who grew up wild as an alley cat -- how could he begin to untangle something as thorny as this trap Iago has set for them? Cardan's circumstances have been simple for a long time now: he resents his family, and they disdain him in return. He suspects Liem resents his father also -- but if so, then it clearly has not prevented him from desiring his approval all the same.
And still, because he is a fool, he cannot bring himself to let it go. His fingers slip from Liem's cheek, wander down to take his hand instead. ]
I do not believe your father is a simpleton, [ he starts, promisingly, ] and so I know he understands that you cannot still the flow of time.
[ His brow quirks. ]
While this is a sincere flaw of yours, I think you'll find you share it with most men, His Grace included.
[ He's still stalling. He still doesn't want to say the thing he knows he needs to say, and he doesn't want to look at Liem while he does it. If he didn't loathe Iago before, he is certainly well on his way now. ]
Do you know what he wished to talk to me about?
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Too often, in the past, he has come to find that such kindnesses carried a hidden cost.]
You know that isn’t the problem, [he murmurs, wishing he was still letting Cardan hold him, feeling foolish for the thought. This, after he just proclaimed he had no need to be coddled.
It has been obvious to Liem for some time that his father has grown unhappy with the amount of energy Liem devotes to his husband. Quite clearly, his father would prefer he leave the disfavoured third prince of Elfhame to his own devices and tend his household duties with more attention. Cardan summed up the reason quite succinctly months ago, and while Liem knows his husband couldn’t manage any enthusiasm for the proclamation, Iago certainly believes their marriage fulfilled its whole purpose within weeks of the ceremony, and could quite reasonably be concluded at any time.
But although his father is adept at making Liem wish to please him, Liem refuses to so readily toss aside his devotion to the partner he has come to love.]
Are you going to tell me, husband?
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He spent an hour suggesting that you were choosing to work too much. Intimated that it was unnecessary, made unkind jokes at your expense -- to which I laughed, just like a nice little lapdog ought to.
[ He says this in the measured, unhurried tone of someone relaying a grocery list. Of course, said list is incomplete: Cardan had also made unkind jokes at Liem's expense. It's just that he isn't going to admit to those; if Iago desires strife between them, he's not going to find Cardan doing all his work for him.
His gaze had settled somewhere in the vicinity of Liem's collarbones. Now it flickers up, to his husband's eyes; Cardan's own are flat with scorn. ]
Don't tell me that isn't revolting, Liem. Of him or of me.
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Even though he knows his father cares nothing at all for his happiness in his marriage, being reminded in this way still aches cruelly.]
That does sound like him, [he says woodenly. How very like his father, to think that because he has no use for his son’s continued marriage, Liem should wash his hands of it as well. Even if Liem has been fighting tooth and nail to keep it whole. He hasn’t told his father that he loves Cardan, but he fears horribly that this wouldn’t change Iago’s decisions on this matter one iota.
But he does not dare linger for too long on this thought—not when Cardan remains right beside him, with his fingers still clasped around his and his eyes still intent on his face.]
We did agree, though, to pretend to be at odds. If anything… I should be glad Iago still feels his unkind jokes will land.
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It takes effort to keep his voice level. ]
And are you? Glad.
[ That's probably unkind, too -- calling Liem on this, when he's so obviously trying to keep himself together. As if Cardan hadn't just thrown another insult in his face, then demanded condemnation like Liem owed him anything at all.
But he doesn't know what else to do. Never before has he known anyone to shy from revenge as much as Liem has. From the very beginning, his husband has stubbornly taken on responsibilities and burdens that weren't his own -- ever patient, ever long-suffering. Cardan hadn't known what to make of it, not for a long time. He still isn't certain he understands it entirely, but as the months have marched on, he has come to suspect it is the result of some terrible wound Liem had sustained. Some fear so awful that he would rather choose self-reproach than give up the pretense of control.
He just hadn't expected it to go this far.
He thinks of Liem's miserable face in that hallway, and he thinks of Iago, smiling, a smug spider growing fat off his captive prey. ]
I cannot say that I was.
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No. Of course not.
[He does frown now, accusing. And, though this somehow feels crueller than anything Cardan has earned with his greed for Liem’s secrets, he turns his face away from his husband’s touch, tugs his hand free of his grasp, letting it fall to his lap with the other.]
What do you want from me, Cardan? Of course I am not glad. I did not trek all the way out here to escape the house’s shadow because I was glad.
[He came out here to get away from his father, and if he is being perfectly honest, he came to get away from Cardan as well. It was only his own short-sightedness that made him fail to consider that his husband might come and find him regardless.]
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