[ 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.]
[ It stings — Liem’s pulling away from him — but only briefly, only before irritation and relief settle in his chest, somehow in equal measure. Irritation, because Liem is being an absolute git; relief, because Cardan is, on the whole, much better at fighting than he is at being gentle. Already he feels the familiar tension of it dancing up his spine — much more certain and decisive than he had ever been about his attempts at comfort. ]
No, [ he agrees, ] you only think I ought to pretend that you should be. Or, better yet, that I avert my eyes from your miseries altogether.
[ His tone is carefully cool; the half-lidded gaze on Liem’s face has reverted to placid arrogance. ]
How uncouth of me, not to allow you to lick your wounds in peace.
Edited (Did i mention that the feeling was familiar to him enough times, though) 2024-12-03 19:35 (UTC)
[When he turns away, glancing out into the forest rather than at his quarrelsome husband, Liem is tempted to just keep his gaze averted entirely. He is sure Cardan is wearing his scorn on his face just as plainly as he’s broadcasting it in his speech, and Liem doesn’t particularly yearn to see how stupidly his husband thinks he’s behaving. He has, quite obviously, had enough of that from his father already.
But he can already imagine the scathing rebuke he might earn from refusing to meet Cardan’s eyes at all, given his husband seems to have lost his patience with him at last.]
Is that such a terrible thing to want?
[He aims tired eyes despondently back at Cardan. The last thing he wanted, at the conclusion of his conversation with his father, was to find time tonight to disappoint Cardan as well. And yet, he seems to have managed exactly that.]
[ Of course Liem wouldn’t know why Cardan would want to be here. Of course he couldn’t anticipate why Cardan is frustrated now. It’s because Cardan is like this — because he’s the kind of man who cannot help but snarl back when challenged, and whose face doesn’t soften even while Liem’s expression sinks heavily into the pit of his stomach.
He’s fucking this up, he knows that much. He’d intended to console Liem; instead, he has added yet another burden for his husband to carry. No matter how hard he’d tried to outrun it, it seems inevitable that they would end up here.
…he realizes, from one breath to another, that he’s lost control of his expression: he’s frowning, tense, his tail drumming unhappily upon the ground. With some effort, he unclenches his jaw… and then closes his mouth with a sharp click, for once at a loss for words. He doesn’t know how to say it, cannot see the magical path to avoiding further damage.
It takes several long seconds for him to speak, tightly, his pretense of calm long gone. ]
You were furious when I hid my illness. You refused to dissolve our marriage. You have taken on every last one of my troubles like a sacred duty, Liem, and yet you seem to think me incapable of shouldering even the most mundane of your worries.
[ Given how well this is all going, he cannot even rightly say Liem is wrong. Still— ]
I do not claim to deserve your trust, husband. But if you think me untrustworthy, at least give me a way to prove myself otherwise.
[The more Cardan sits there, frowning and agitated, trying to convince him to change his mind, the more Liem feels like everything about this scenario has spiralled out of control. He just wanted to see Cardan meet the wolves, since he’d come all the way here. He just wanted to focus on something uncomplicated and nice; instead, his reluctance to cooperate with Cardan’s gentle prying has only made his husband upset as well.
But I’m fine! he wants to protest, even though the past several minutes have proven this to be patently untrue. More to the point, Cardan’s attentive presence is only making Liem more wary and anxious, like Cardan is waiting for him to fuck up. The last thing he wants just now is to feel scrutinized, even if it is by someone who wishes to understand his troubles only to ease them.
When he opens his mouth, frustration weighs heavily on his features.]
I don’t think that.
[He stares at his husband, in his head already trying and failing to explain why this has nothing to do with trust, without admitting that it has everything to do with his own weakness. In all the months he and Cardan have been married, Liem has never known him to betray distress about anything. Even when Cardan was wracked with poison, he had endured; the one who was reduced almost to tears had been Liem. He loathes the idea of letting himself fall apart in front of Cardan again, over something as predictable as his father making his life difficult in the same way he always does.]
I just don’t want to be someone who needs comfort. I’m not ill. I’m not being endangered. [In his lap, his hands curl into tight fists. The breath he draws in is unsteady.] It doesn’t matter if my father finds me lacking, or wants me not to waste my time with things that make me happy. This is not new, and speaking of it makes me feel pathetic. I don’t. Want. To.
[ Cardan only narrowly resists the urge to roll his eyes -- not because Liem is being ridiculous, but because being so roundly rejected is embarrassing, and rouses his inclination for childishness. If he hadn't just finished grandstanding about how trustworthy he could be, he might have given in.
Even so, the look he directs Liem's way is openly disbelieving. ]
What does it matter if you're someone who needs comfort?
[ ...that's a disingenuous question. He knows why it matters. He just didn't expect it to matter to Liem, somehow, even though all the signs had long been there. Even as he'd learned more about the ways in which Liem's father was terrible to him, he had still thought his upbringing as cushier than his own -- after all, at least Liem had the safety of being his father's heir, and none of the drawbacks of being a drunken disappointment.
Evidently, this had not made as big of a difference as he'd assumed. ]
Besides, no one needs comfort; we only want it, and denying yourself is stupid. I would know.
[Liem should have known that he wouldn’t profit from trying to argue with Cardan about this. As he might have expected, the endeavour has only exhausted him, and more than that, his utter failure to even slightly impress his point of view on Cardan has made him feel stupid and childish. It makes him wish he had simply given Cardan what he wanted, instead of setting himself up to be humiliated when he’d only just put the night’s previous embarrassment behind him.
Despite all his most fervent wishes, he is certain that this couldn’t be more obvious to Cardan. He can feel shame twisting in his stomach and burning beneath his skin, and though he knows he should say something else, suddenly he cannot force his wilful tongue to move. Instead he draws his legs up to wrap his arms around them, staring unhappily past his husband from overtop his knees.
He hates how rough his voice sounds when he finally manages to make himself speak.]
That is only the second time tonight that someone has implied that I might be stupid.
[ He didn't think there was a way to say a wronger thing than he already had, but apparently he's slated to exceed his own expectations this night. He watches Liem fold in on himself, silently and miserably, the same way he'd looked leaving Iago's rooms in that hallway, and feels utterly helpless. The space between them, an arm's length at most, has become a bottomless chasm he cannot seem to cross no matter how much he tires.
Considering he was already thinking it, what Liem says after that shouldn't feel like such a slap. And yet it does; and yet he feels the shock of it filter through him.
Liem was right. He shouldn't have come out. Or he should have quit while he was ahead, when his husband was still letting Cardan touch him, when he was smiling at wolf pups, when things seemed so infinitely much less painful than they do now. But he just couldn't leave well enough alone; he had to be stubborn, had to be right, and now he's chased down a man who was already in pain and made a bloodbath out of his place of respite. And, somewhere between his ribs, a wretched little fear squirms into being: this is how it starts. This is how Liem realizes that this is bad for him. This is how their marriage bleeds out and dies.
He has to catch his breath around the thought. It makes him look away, then rub his palms over his hot face -- but their comparative coolness only reminds him of Liem, who doesn't want to be touched, and is therefore not comforting at all.
The decent thing would probably be to offer to leave. He cannot. Even if he has no hope of course correcting now, he hears himself trying again, foolishly. ]
That is... not what I meant. I just-- [ He breaks off with a noise of frustration, muffled against his palms. Even when he pulls them away, he cannot look at Liem, not quite. ]
In the carriage. After I'd had the wraithberry wine. I wanted to be-- [ despite all his big overtures, saying it is immensely uncomfortable; his nails dig half-moons into his palms when he does ] --to be comforted. But I was stubborn, and proud, and foolish, and so I just grit my teeth and pretended I was fine. And if I'd died, I would have died a stubborn, miserable fool. And what for? Whose good opinion was I even courting, Liem?
[ Only now does his gaze cut to his husband, a little desperate. ]
I just don't want to do that anymore. Not with you.
[Liem wants so badly to believe in Cardan when he says he doesn’t want them to pretend with each other anymore. He wants to feel confident that it wouldn’t change anything at all if his husband were to see him cry, no matter how pathetic the reason. At every other time, when he is in Cardan’s arms, he always feels so safe and cared for. He wants to trust in that safety when he wishes most for it, too.
He doesn’t know if he can—but he does know something else. He knows that Cardan’s poisoning still haunts him in his more despairing hours, and he knows that he would have given anything to comfort Cardan properly during that miserable, interminable ride home, though he had failed at it so utterly. In his current state, the memory does nothing to lift his mood, but he does now at least meet his husband’s gaze.]
It’s yours. Your good opinion that I want.
[Obviously he craves Cardan’s good opinion—wants to be reliable and charming and desirable and trustworthy. He wants Cardan to respect him and look at him as an equal, not as someone whose flaws Cardan grudgingly tolerates out of some lingering fondness.
And still, and still…]
And I want to be able to be comforting to you. [The way he says it, it’s clear he has no confidence in succeeding in this area either. Yet somehow, this is still not the most difficult thing for him to say.] And… I want to… to be someone you wish to care for. Not just to prove that you can.
[ He hates the hope that lights up in him the moment Liem looks at him. He shouldn’t do this — shouldn’t allow himself such premature relief. It’s foolish; he only needs to look back on the last few minutes to know how foolish.
Especially when every word makes it more clear how terribly they’ve failed in understanding each other. That Liem thinks he needs still wish for Cardan’s regard, when he had earned it months ago. That he doesn’t think his presence was a balm, even in those wretched minutes when Cardan let his pride win over his reason. And then, worst of all, the last thing—
Well, he had posited it as a matter of equivalence. ]
Liem.
[ His voice sounds grave to his own ears. He moves to untangle his legs, rising up to kneel. And he doesn’t care, all of a sudden, that Liem had rejected his touch just minutes ago — he is unacceptably far away, and Cardan cannot stand it at all. Of all the comforts Liem’s company affords him, his husband’s closeness is the most visceral; now that he’s used to having it, he no longer knows how to do without.
But when he reaches for Liem’s face, he finds himself oddly uncertain, his hands faltering mid-air. He’s fucked up so badly already; he doesn’t know how to touch Liem when he’s like this, huddled in on himself. He doesn’t know that he won’t just make everything worse.
He swallows around his own strange desperation. ]
I don’t care for comparing ledgers. It’s just—
[ His empty palms close, a little helpless, as he sinks back onto his haunches. ]
Liem, happiness is so radiant on you.
Seeing it marred makes me loathe everything and everyone else.
[ Which is a rich thing to say for a man who has marred it so thoroughly this night. But then, Cardan has never suffered from an excess of shame. ]
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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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No, [ he agrees, ] you only think I ought to pretend that you should be. Or, better yet, that I avert my eyes from your miseries altogether.
[ His tone is carefully cool; the half-lidded gaze on Liem’s face has reverted to placid arrogance. ]
How uncouth of me, not to allow you to lick your wounds in peace.
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But he can already imagine the scathing rebuke he might earn from refusing to meet Cardan’s eyes at all, given his husband seems to have lost his patience with him at last.]
Is that such a terrible thing to want?
[He aims tired eyes despondently back at Cardan. The last thing he wanted, at the conclusion of his conversation with his father, was to find time tonight to disappoint Cardan as well. And yet, he seems to have managed exactly that.]
I don’t understand why this would make you angry.
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He’s fucking this up, he knows that much. He’d intended to console Liem; instead, he has added yet another burden for his husband to carry. No matter how hard he’d tried to outrun it, it seems inevitable that they would end up here.
…he realizes, from one breath to another, that he’s lost control of his expression: he’s frowning, tense, his tail drumming unhappily upon the ground. With some effort, he unclenches his jaw… and then closes his mouth with a sharp click, for once at a loss for words. He doesn’t know how to say it, cannot see the magical path to avoiding further damage.
It takes several long seconds for him to speak, tightly, his pretense of calm long gone. ]
You were furious when I hid my illness. You refused to dissolve our marriage. You have taken on every last one of my troubles like a sacred duty, Liem, and yet you seem to think me incapable of shouldering even the most mundane of your worries.
[ Given how well this is all going, he cannot even rightly say Liem is wrong. Still— ]
I do not claim to deserve your trust, husband. But if you think me untrustworthy, at least give me a way to prove myself otherwise.
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But I’m fine! he wants to protest, even though the past several minutes have proven this to be patently untrue. More to the point, Cardan’s attentive presence is only making Liem more wary and anxious, like Cardan is waiting for him to fuck up. The last thing he wants just now is to feel scrutinized, even if it is by someone who wishes to understand his troubles only to ease them.
When he opens his mouth, frustration weighs heavily on his features.]
I don’t think that.
[He stares at his husband, in his head already trying and failing to explain why this has nothing to do with trust, without admitting that it has everything to do with his own weakness. In all the months he and Cardan have been married, Liem has never known him to betray distress about anything. Even when Cardan was wracked with poison, he had endured; the one who was reduced almost to tears had been Liem. He loathes the idea of letting himself fall apart in front of Cardan again, over something as predictable as his father making his life difficult in the same way he always does.]
I just don’t want to be someone who needs comfort. I’m not ill. I’m not being endangered. [In his lap, his hands curl into tight fists. The breath he draws in is unsteady.] It doesn’t matter if my father finds me lacking, or wants me not to waste my time with things that make me happy. This is not new, and speaking of it makes me feel pathetic. I don’t. Want. To.
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Even so, the look he directs Liem's way is openly disbelieving. ]
What does it matter if you're someone who needs comfort?
[ ...that's a disingenuous question. He knows why it matters. He just didn't expect it to matter to Liem, somehow, even though all the signs had long been there. Even as he'd learned more about the ways in which Liem's father was terrible to him, he had still thought his upbringing as cushier than his own -- after all, at least Liem had the safety of being his father's heir, and none of the drawbacks of being a drunken disappointment.
Evidently, this had not made as big of a difference as he'd assumed. ]
Besides, no one needs comfort; we only want it, and denying yourself is stupid. I would know.
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Despite all his most fervent wishes, he is certain that this couldn’t be more obvious to Cardan. He can feel shame twisting in his stomach and burning beneath his skin, and though he knows he should say something else, suddenly he cannot force his wilful tongue to move. Instead he draws his legs up to wrap his arms around them, staring unhappily past his husband from overtop his knees.
He hates how rough his voice sounds when he finally manages to make himself speak.]
That is only the second time tonight that someone has implied that I might be stupid.
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Considering he was already thinking it, what Liem says after that shouldn't feel like such a slap. And yet it does; and yet he feels the shock of it filter through him.
Liem was right. He shouldn't have come out. Or he should have quit while he was ahead, when his husband was still letting Cardan touch him, when he was smiling at wolf pups, when things seemed so infinitely much less painful than they do now. But he just couldn't leave well enough alone; he had to be stubborn, had to be right, and now he's chased down a man who was already in pain and made a bloodbath out of his place of respite. And, somewhere between his ribs, a wretched little fear squirms into being: this is how it starts. This is how Liem realizes that this is bad for him. This is how their marriage bleeds out and dies.
He has to catch his breath around the thought. It makes him look away, then rub his palms over his hot face -- but their comparative coolness only reminds him of Liem, who doesn't want to be touched, and is therefore not comforting at all.
The decent thing would probably be to offer to leave. He cannot. Even if he has no hope of course correcting now, he hears himself trying again, foolishly. ]
That is... not what I meant. I just-- [ He breaks off with a noise of frustration, muffled against his palms. Even when he pulls them away, he cannot look at Liem, not quite. ]
In the carriage. After I'd had the wraithberry wine. I wanted to be-- [ despite all his big overtures, saying it is immensely uncomfortable; his nails dig half-moons into his palms when he does ] --to be comforted. But I was stubborn, and proud, and foolish, and so I just grit my teeth and pretended I was fine. And if I'd died, I would have died a stubborn, miserable fool. And what for? Whose good opinion was I even courting, Liem?
[ Only now does his gaze cut to his husband, a little desperate. ]
I just don't want to do that anymore. Not with you.
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He doesn’t know if he can—but he does know something else. He knows that Cardan’s poisoning still haunts him in his more despairing hours, and he knows that he would have given anything to comfort Cardan properly during that miserable, interminable ride home, though he had failed at it so utterly. In his current state, the memory does nothing to lift his mood, but he does now at least meet his husband’s gaze.]
It’s yours. Your good opinion that I want.
[Obviously he craves Cardan’s good opinion—wants to be reliable and charming and desirable and trustworthy. He wants Cardan to respect him and look at him as an equal, not as someone whose flaws Cardan grudgingly tolerates out of some lingering fondness.
And still, and still…]
And I want to be able to be comforting to you. [The way he says it, it’s clear he has no confidence in succeeding in this area either. Yet somehow, this is still not the most difficult thing for him to say.] And… I want to… to be someone you wish to care for. Not just to prove that you can.
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Especially when every word makes it more clear how terribly they’ve failed in understanding each other. That Liem thinks he needs still wish for Cardan’s regard, when he had earned it months ago. That he doesn’t think his presence was a balm, even in those wretched minutes when Cardan let his pride win over his reason. And then, worst of all, the last thing—
Well, he had posited it as a matter of equivalence. ]
Liem.
[ His voice sounds grave to his own ears. He moves to untangle his legs, rising up to kneel. And he doesn’t care, all of a sudden, that Liem had rejected his touch just minutes ago — he is unacceptably far away, and Cardan cannot stand it at all. Of all the comforts Liem’s company affords him, his husband’s closeness is the most visceral; now that he’s used to having it, he no longer knows how to do without.
But when he reaches for Liem’s face, he finds himself oddly uncertain, his hands faltering mid-air. He’s fucked up so badly already; he doesn’t know how to touch Liem when he’s like this, huddled in on himself. He doesn’t know that he won’t just make everything worse.
He swallows around his own strange desperation. ]
I don’t care for comparing ledgers. It’s just—
[ His empty palms close, a little helpless, as he sinks back onto his haunches. ]
Liem, happiness is so radiant on you.
Seeing it marred makes me loathe everything and everyone else.
[ Which is a rich thing to say for a man who has marred it so thoroughly this night. But then, Cardan has never suffered from an excess of shame. ]
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