the prince and the knight

[Talon]

T A L O N

21 Searing 122

Talon sat at the center of the sprawling circle that served as the boundary of his prison. He was freshly bathed. His hair had been tied back after being washed and combed. His wings were freshly groomed and the clothing he wore, as always, was meticulously clean if a bit plain. The white linen shirt and grey pants were comfortable enough. The slippers upon his feet were well fitted and he had even received a fresh mat upon which he could lay. He sat with his legs folded and his hands resting upon his knees. The chains that were his constant companion had been carefully removed one at a time so that his wrists could be washed. They were then reapplied. This all led Talon to the conclusion that he was likely receiving a visitor. One whom the Countess wanted him looking his best for.

Despite his protests, they did not completely shave the beard upon his jaw. It was trimmed and groomed but the Matchmaker had insisted he keep it. With no choice, as they would not allow him the luxury of a shaving knife on his own, he acquiesced.

In his freshened state, the evidence of his heritage was plain to see beneath the light of candles and arcane lamps that illuminated the chapel where he was kept. The pale cast to his skin, the slight point to his ears, the silver of his feather, every aspect of his body had been meticulously seen to under the Matchmaker’s careful eye. The only blemish were the pictographs carved into his skin that even she could not overrule. He could still feel their weight upon him. He flexed his wings, extending them slightly before letting them rest easily upon his back. He was half-way into his meditative trance when he heard the doors to the chapel open. The dozen or so armored Kathar knights did not move from their posts. Their gazes remained fixed and distant, the only time they would come alive was when commanded to by their superiors.

Talon had learned to ignore them until he had need to observe them. That pained him to do on some level. He recognized that perhaps they were just as much prisoners as he was. Whether they wanted to be free of their prison he did not know. He quirked a brow. The footsteps he heard were not ones familiar to him. He had memorized the gait of practically everyone who came into his prison. From the slow, methodical steps of the Archbishop, the swagger of the Matchmaker, to the shuffle of the Inquisitors who applied his pictographs every day, he knew the steps of them all. However, the booted footsteps that approached him now were unfamiliar to him. It was this that prompted him to open his eyes in order to assess the newcomer.

Approaching him was a Kathar. That much was immediately evident as soon as Talon beheld the wings upon his back. His walk was purposeful. The movements of his body were graceful. Even clothed, he could see that the body beneath those clothes was strong. Eyes rising to his face, Talon quirked a brow only slightly. He was…handsome. His features were possessed of a rugged appeal that Talon knew had been picked out exactly because the Matchmaker knew such a thing was something he found appealing. He would have to hand it to the woman, after a week of her sessions, she had found a man who immediately caught his eye. He wondered what else there was to this man who made his way forward. For the Countess had probed him for far, far more than just physical tastes. She had gotten Talon to reveal things that even he had not been entirely sure about.

Talon never took his eyes off the man as he neared. He stared up at him even as he approached the edge of the circle that bound him. After a moment, he closed his silver eyes and let out a long, heavy breath. Opening his eyes once more he met the man’s gaze steadily.

“You must be him.” Talon’s voice was deep and resonant. It carried the weight of a man who, even in spite of his circumstances, still possessed an air of authority. He gestured to the space before him. "Please. Sit down. I know nothing of what they plan for us, but I would at least like to speak with the man my jailers believe is a match for me."

[Asher]

CXXII SEARING XXI

There were few times ever in his life where he'd been given full liberty, the option to choose even elements of his appearance for himself. Like most things that crowded his existence, the proper way to act, look and be were codified by his Handler, and as a famed participant of the Imperium's bloodsports, he had a certain presentation to maintain. Today, though, Asher was instructed specifically to dress and look as he liked, and he understood why. He was chosen to match with a Divine, and he was chosen because they believed that he was the key that fit Talon's lock. They wanted him to be as he was -- authentic, true, and driven by his own motivation, even if the collar around his neck was still held there as a precaution.

Given that, Asher dressed plainly. He did not mean to entice with his clothing, but rather to present himself as he liked to be. He wore a simple grey tunic of somewhat impressive quality, though with its faint beige patterns far from any noble embroidery. Around his legs were a simple pair of black slacks, a belt wrapped around their upper limits. His hair was only lightly combed, partially unkempt; it tended to do what he wanted, and he was fairly certain that he looked well enough either way. If he truly was some personification of the Demigod's desires, a stray hair careening out from the back of his head would not be enough to shake that truth.

He stared in the mirror for some time; it was the first time he'd really had the opportunity to in a while. It was strange, to him, the day; he had been utilized by the Imperium in many ways. He had been wielded as a weapon, honed for his mind, and had been gathered before crowds as a symbol of might. Never before had he been utilized as a sexual tool -- a way to penetrate the shell of a man who was almost an enemy. Never had he been valued for his looks above his grit or temerity, or his loyalty. It was a unique and somewhat disconcerting feeling, but he did not allow it to linger for long.

After dressing, he was brought to the great doors of the cathedral by his Handler, Calus, who left him with a grunt and a penetrating nod. With no more than a quiet breath of his own, the man parted the doors and stepped inside, his feet creating echoes across the floor's dark tiles, his presence mostly obscured by a dark, and then dim light. Eventually, he appeared within Talon's view, his features mostly empty of character. He did not smile, nor did he even greet him. For the first moments of their mutual sight, Asher only stared, before eventually offering the man a penetrating nod of his own.

You must be him.

He said nothing, instead closing the distance between them until he was little more than an arm's length away. He sat where he was gestured to, his lips flatly extending as he battled the urge to frown. The man before him was clearly very powerful; he could feel that, and his manner did not betray that truth. He was also very worn, and likely very confused. Strangely, he felt a sting of empathy for him -- he wondered, exactly, how long they intended to keep him sequestered where he was.

But he did not express that wandering thought. Instead, as he sat before the other man -- his wings nearly completely translucent in the dark -- the Kathar answered him.

"It is the Imperium's will that we reproduce," he said, matter-of-factly. "There is little we must do in particular, save for pursue the passion natural to men; indulge our innate needs. It will not be so burdensome to you as much of the other trials you have dealt with, here." He nodded again, extending a hand. He did not state the purpose for his gesture, but given the way in which he peered into Talon's eyes, it was clear: he wanted to keep some form of physical contact as they spoke; held hands, fingers smoothing over forearms, anything that would complement the occasion. Dour as he liked to be, he still had his role this night.

"Asher," he introduced himself, quietly, and nothing more.

[Talon]

T A L O N

Talon scoffed, unable to hold back the weary laugh that bubbled up out of him. He chuckled, allowing the laughing fit to roll through him until it died down on its own. Intellectually, he had known that this was the natural conclusion of what the Imperial Breeder had in mind. Certainly she had made no effort to disguise the purpose of the various alchemical potions he had been asked to drink. Concoctions that had been devised to arouse him, excite him, and make him utterly open to the suggestion of what pleased him in mind and body. The fact that Asher was being direct, open and honest with him immediately struck home.

“That they do. I am certain they wish me--us--to sire many sons.” Talon’s lips pressed into a thin line. The silver of his eyes momentarily flashed with a fiery light. As soon as the evidence of his rage manifested however, he felt the power of the chains binding him and the circle keeping him bound, flare to life. His power quickly faded leaving only a slight headache in its wake. He sighed heavily, bringing his hands up to rub his face. The jingle of the chains binding him was a sore reminder that the only reason he had agreed to any of this was because it guaranteed the safety of his husband. He looked at the hand that was offered to him. He did not take it. He raised his gaze to Asher in order to stare at him steadily. His jaw worked steadily before he nodded and let out a breath through his nostrils.

“Forgive me. I do not mean to be rude. This is…harder than I thought it would be.” He cared nothing for the knights that still stood watch in the room. He had long ago learned to ignore them until he had need to acknowledge their presence.

“Asher.” He spoke the man’s name. After a moment, he slipped his hand into Asher’s. Part of him grew tense. The only people that had touched him for months had been those people who had been carving dark symbols into his skin in order to suppress his power. He could not completely help the tension that entered his muscles, nor the slight twitch of his wings.

“Talon.” He did not know if he had it in him to even attempt the act. No, he knew he did not. No matter how physically appealing the man in front of him was, and he was, his heart and his head were not in it. Even if he had agreed to this, he still needed time to actually get to know the person across from him.

“Will you tell me of yourself? I do not wish to couple with a complete stranger.”

[Asher]

CXXII SEARING XXI

The other man's laughter was an unexpected response, but Asher's features remained steady throughout save for the slight raise of his left brow. He observed him, watching the way laughter changed the shape of his complexion, the way his smile's curvature interacted with the rest of his face. He knew he was chosen with Talon's preferences in mind alone, but he did not find himself shying from the match. Talon was handsome, too, and quite unlike what he expected. He was... almost regular-like, despite his noble nature. He was closer to a man than a God, which was something that soothed him. The idea of copulating with a brute force of nature did not elate him, and now he knew that would not be the case.

Of course, that did make his sudden fit of anger all the more unpleasant to bear through, but his apology afterwards was welcomed, as was his concession as he took the Kathar's hand. Asher did not know how to please or appeal, and certainly not to seduce, but it appeared that Talon at least bore him no animosity, and his gestures were not entirely unwelcome. That was a surprise, given the bleakness Talon had experienced since he'd been taken to Gel'grandal.

"I am not particularly interesting," he said, eyes shifting slightly to view a lit candle somewhere amidst the dim void in the corner of the cathedral. He was unused to the attention in a room being squared upon himself, save for after a victory in the Games, and he never liked those moments. Asher was always preferential to being the silent watcher, like the Knights that subtly surrounded them. "I am a Knight-Sergeant of the Kathar Legion. I am a mage -- Reaving and Negation -- and I am a guardian of the Emperor. I reside in the Palace of Spires... ah, I was born in Tranal. There's really not much more to say," he muttered, a slight chuckle escaping his lips as the corners of them curved upward.

He really wasn't very good at making friends; he never had been.

"As I'm sure you're aware, we Kathar live very regimented lives. We sleep, we build ourselves, we serve. In the face of that, I can't say I'm particularly brimming with hobbies, or any wildly exciting stories to share. But -- I am loyal to the Imperium, and I find my contentment in that."

Asher stroked slowly along the skin of Talon's palm with his thumb, his gaze returning to his somewhere within his words.

"What of you, Talon? They did not tell me much about you. I know you are a man of great power, divine and institutional, but they told me little of either of those things, nor the fabric of who you are otherwise. I would, in truth, also like to know the man I am to have a family with. Would you care to divulge?"

[Talon]

T A L O N

Talon listened to Asher speak. It was a pleasant change from the verbal jousting that was often played with the archbishop. It was even a nice change from the incisive probing of the countess. As Asher spoke, he looked down to their hands. The feeling of fingers gently running over his palm helped to relax him. Gentle touch was not something he was afforded, if at all, these days. He was not surprised that Asher was not told much about him. It was clear what the Imperium wanted. The empire had little in the way of compassion for things that got in the way of duty and business. Trivialities such as telling his chosen match about him likely had not come up. It was either that or the Matchmaker had elected to let this be a point of conversation for the two of them. Having spent time around her, Talon settled on the latter. Jacqueline d’Honaire was not a woman who struck him as inattentive of details.

“I see.” Talon regarded Asher. The fact that he could say he was loyal to the empire, even with the collar around his neck, was a curious thing to him. He recalled Baudric and how, despite free of the collar’s influence, the man had chosen to still wear it. That was the only life they knew, he supposed. Bereft of it, did they know anything else? Aoren had been a man lost when they had first met. He had lived for nothing more than the thrill and adrenaline of the hunt down in the Warrens. Perhaps it reminded him of his time amongst the other Kathar in the legion. It had only been after he was settled in Kalzasi for over a year that his outlook began to change.

“I was born in the shadow of the Astralar Mountains, in the Northlands of Karnor.” Talon’s eyes grew distant. If he concentrated, he thought he could almost see the mountains of his homeland. A great welling of homesickness sprung up within him but he tamped it down.

“I am from Kalzasi, home of the Synnekar. My father…” He paused, his jaw flexing. “...my father ruled us with wisdom and compassion. He is gone now. He was killed the day I was taken.”

He looked down at the floor, lost in his own thoughts for a moment. Stirring himself from those thoughts, he pressed on.

“I had many duties in my homeland. Of all of them, I suppose I was most alive when I was fighting alongside our warriors in the Warrens.” His expression softened as he allowed himself to think on the runeforge. “I know magic. I am practiced in many forms, as was expected of me.”

Talon did not speak on what forms he knew. Some of his runes were plainly visible. The most prominent of which was on the left side of his face. Asher had but to look at the rune and would be able to discern that it was the rune of Semblance.

“I awoke to my life as a Draegir two years ago. Within the first week, I was part of a battle that killed an Inquisitor who was trying to enslave some of my people. I suppose that is part of the reason I ended up here.”

[Asher]

CXXII SEARING XXI

While Talon spoke for the purpose of elaborating on who he was, his words were alike to a long tapestry being strewn out, the mystery of why he was within the bygone cathedral unraveling. His words were pensive, and brimming with some distant sense of sorrow. As he spoke more and more, Asher expanded his contact to his wrist, and then the wide shape of his forearm. His brows clung somewhat closely to the crease above his eyes, as if he were pondering in some deep state of reflection.

He wondered if the death of Talon's father meant that he would be King when he went home, though there was no guarantee that he ever would go back there. The Imperium might've not shied away from a puppet ruler they could mold in any other case, but Talon was much more valuable to them as breeding stock, a reminder of Asher's own function in being present with him. In some ways, he too was bound to this cathedral, or wherever it was that the Draegir would eventually be moved. He wondered if he would be imprisoned for long, and if they would simply have the Kathar visit him every so often, whenever they wanted to add to the ranks of his sons.

"I see," he responded, much like Talon had when first processing Asher's biography. "I am sorry about your father. It is strange -- for as long as I've known about the Synnekar, I've always been curious about the man; curious to know what an untethered Lord of our race might be like. If he ruled with wisdom and compassion, then that is good. It means we can do more than just kill."

He tried not to acknowledge the watchers in the room, but their continued presence meant that he could say nothing more than that, lest his words be mistaken for some freedom-seeking sentiment. He knew the men that surrounded him, and they knew him, but in the Empire it was important to avoid implanting any degree of suspicion. At times, portraying others as disloyal brought a sheen of loyalty to one's self.

"I'm sorry that we must meet under such circumstances, but I am proud to meet you, Talon. There is a reason the Imperium wants to replicate your lineage here -- you are strong, enduring, and even in these circumstances you maintain yourself well. I feel honored to be chosen as your companion."

If nothing else, surrounded by the gloom of the gothic walls that flanked him, he thought that at least he could be kind. Talon needed at least one hand of outreach if he was to stay bonded to reality, to fulfill his own duty to Gelerian. Asher was meant to be more than just his access to sex, or a genetic match; it was clear to him, now, why he had been sent to Talon under such a capacity as he was. If he was meant to only be his mate, they would have sent him in for a forceful one-off and that would have been that. His function was more broad than that.

And he enjoyed it. It was uncommon that he had been allowed to form such a connection.

He remained quiet for a while, wrapped in his own thoughts. The Kathar felt a sense of tension; he did not feel entirely free to speak his mind.

"Have you ever wanted to have a child?" Asher inquired. It was something that occupied his own thoughts, somewhere in the rift between his words. "I have. I am not certain whether or not I will know our boys, but I think their presence in the world may bring me some sense of comfort. For you, though, I... understand it may be different. You are unaccustomed to the way we Kathar live. Are you afraid of what is to come?"

[Talon]

T A L O N

Talon’s jaw flexed at the mention of his father. It was not a subject he was fully welcoming of, even if he had been the one to bring it up. He could still see that last moment. He could still see his father reaching out to him. He shook his head, banishing those thoughts from his mind as best he could. Lingering on them would only make him angry. He had moved past despair by now. Now, it merely aroused his fury.

“Of course.” He shrugged a shoulder. Of course he wanted children. He wanted sons. He wanted daughters. He wanted a family. He looked down at where Asher was gently massaging the muscles of his forearm. It felt…not unpleasant. The taut muscles of his forearm bunched and flexed as Asher’s fingers rubbed into a knot. When the knight continued on speaking, it suddenly dawned on Talon the fullness of what he had agreed to.

“The way you live?” His voice dropped an octave. Gently, he removed his arm from within Asher’s grasp. “Am I afraid?”

He stared at Asher almost incredulously.

“Your empire invaded my homeland.” His voice began as a whisper. “Your empire helped murder my father and instigate a war in the North that will now cost countless lives. Your empire slaughtered innocent people on the day of my wedding to the love of my life.”

His heart picked up beating. A rush of indignation and anger flooded through him. How many nights had he wept openly at the pain and suffering the people he loved had been through? How many nights had he spent listening to the broken screaming of his husband, his bondmate, his soulmate? He shot to his feet, eyes narrowing as he regarded Asher.

“Your empire, the land you are so content to find subservience to, has made me a slave! Only good for enough to apparently service the need to resupply their fallen warriors!” He raised a hand pointing to the other knights in the room. “Every night for months on end, I have heard nothing but the agonized screaming of my husband as he suffers at the hands of your Imperial torturers. For hours every day, the only sound in this room was the echo of his pain! And not a soul in this room or elsewhere has shown a shred of remorse!”

Talon raised shaking hands to his face as he steadied himself. His voice had risen to a shout by the end. He was shaking but it was not from anger.

“My only solace in this is that agreeing to this, he is spared at least the physical torture. He yet remains a slave to the will of his controllers now.” He let out a breath and dropped his hands, pinning Asher with a steady stare. “The way you live? This life, this is not living. I was a Prince. I was a warrior who lived to protect his people and I was free to follow my head and my heart. I was my own master. This? This is just another bar in a rotted prison. Am I afraid? I am terrified. All my strength, all my power, every battle I have fought and this is what I am reduced to? A breeding stud to feed the engine responsible for my enslavement.”

He turned his body to the side, bringing his hands to rest at the small of his back as he focused on his breathing. He needed to calm down. Of course he knew that Asher was not personally responsible for his situation…but he was an extension of the apparatus responsible for his current predicament. No matter how kind the man was, there could be no illusions about that.

[Asher]

CXXII SEARING XXI

He couldn't say he was particularly surprised by Talon's reaction, or at least the general cadence of it, but he was alarmed by the sheer explosivity of his temperament. He almost wondered if the man would attempt to strike him, channeling his fury at the Empire that bound him into one of its loyal agents. Fortunately, he did not; he wondered if he would be able to salvage their interaction if Talon had tried. Things likely would have gotten much worse in the aftermath.

"I know you're terrified," he muttered, after it all. "That much is clear, despite the veneer."

This time, he made no attempt to touch him again. His hand still lingered somewhere along the mass of Talon's muscular arms, but he did not move it, nor did he continue to stroke his skin, or the hairs that ran along the length of his forearm. He allowed the man a moment of time, to calm those nerves that frayed and constricted. He would've hoped for as much himself, if he felt the same way.

"I do not know your pain, but I do know you have it. It's clear in the way your breath straggles behind your words, and the way your eyes narrow when you speak. I'm not just here to be a lay for you, Talon. To be truthful, I do not know entirely what I am here to do, but my instinct is clear: I want to be a companion to you. A place of refuge in this desolation. Your husband ails, and for as long as he does I know you will too, but... you mustn't cloud yourself only with bleakness. If you do, you won't be able to find the solution to your suffering. You will let it consume you."

And that, he thought, would not be beneficial to anyone. Not to Talon, nor to his husband, or even the Imperium. He needed a light, and as Asher reminded himself, that was his own function. He had decided that it would be.

He allowed silence to fill their conversation again, for a moment, and thought back on Talon's words. This life, this is not living. He wondered if the other man referred to the Kathar way of life in general -- their servitude. It felt invalidating, to some extent, to be told that he wasn't even truly alive, but he allowed Talon his stray words of wroth. Asher knew better than to correct a grieving man.

"I do not shirk responsibility for what my Empire does," said the Knight. "I know that we take, I know that we kill. I am a part of that enterprise -- you do not need to trust me, or refrain from pinning that rage onto me. I accept it."

The man let out a steady breath.

"I long to tell you that there is some great purpose behind it all, but the function of our proclivities is not always known to me. It is not known to many of us. I cannot apologize on my Empire's behalf, for I do not often understand why it does what it does. All I know is that you and I are not opposing warriors on a battlefield, right now, and that you are not my enemy. You are perhaps the only lover I will ever take in my life. For that reason, I cannot be your enemy: that sort of life would be one too miserable for even a Kathar to bear." Asher sighed out, extending his other free hand to reach for Talon's shoulder, hoping to pull him back to facing him, but only of his own will.

"You and I will be connected soon; we will have children together soon. For their sake, I ask that you try to see me as a reprieve from all of this, like a field of flowers in a black, cindered sea. In many ways, Talon, that is what our companionship might be to me, too. Life is difficult, but we find our joys in it. For you, I want to be a source of joy. Will you accept me?"

[Talon]

T A L O N

Asher’s words…stung. Not because they were cruel. Not because they were unkind. It was because there was a ring of truth to them. Of the few powers that he had available to him while in this state, Talon considered it a grave injustice to lie to him. Lies rung hollow in his ears so he knew that what Asher spoke, he spoke truthfully and with sincerity. It was an odd thing to be angry but to recognize that he could not be wholly angry with the person in front of him. When he felt the knight’s hand upon his shoulder he allowed himself to be turned so that he could face the Kathar.

It was hard to admit but he understood the position that Asher was in. It was likely that he had as little choice in this matter as he did. The collar that was around his neck said as much. Were not the Kathar, no matter how freely they roamed, still leashed to the will of that accursed Obelisk? The knights that constantly stood watch over his prison all possessed collars and he could feel the oppressive weight of their control. Was it their fault that they reacted to nothing save for an action that fell in line with their orders? It was not. This was the only life they had known. It was a life that the empire wanted for him, his beloved and for the children that he would sire for them.

He looked into Asher’s eyes. He came to a decision. He could not leave the boundary of the circle both because of the chains that hung from his wrists and the magic of the circle prevented such an act. Others, however, could join him. He did not speak, but he stepped back and spread his wings before folding them comfortably upon his back. He gestured to the floor directly in front of him and he resumed his seat on the mat that had been provided for him. For a long stretch of silence he did not say anything. He did not know what to say anymore. He knew what they were supposed to be doing but he was far from being in the mood for such a carnal act.

“Reaving.” He spoke after a while. “What do you wield?”

Stories said that Reaving was a magic intricately tied to him as both a mythological figure and to the knightly order tied to him. He wielded it himself, as did most every warrior in his closer circle. It seemed a safe topic for the moment.

[Asher]

CXXII SEARING XXI

Talon eased, and Asher was glad. Glad enough for a smile to spread across his lips; a rare sight for him, at least in the case of genuine smiles, and not ones that he felt were obligatory. He was, in some ways, beginning to feel fond of his charge. The man felt scorned, but he had a softness in him that he admired. The Empire likely wanted to unravel the whole thing -- his scorn and his softness, but Asher hoped he could retain the latter half. He found it as comforting as he hoped to be himself.

"A blade," he whispered. Now that Talon had turned to face him again, he placed his remaining free hand on the other man's, increasing their contact. It felt nice, to not need to shy away from empathy. He felt a strangeness at his task at first, but it was starting to feel more pleasing as time went on, and the more he thought about it. He was being allowed to feel an intimacy that had been locked away from him for all of his life, one that many of his brothers would never experience. He never particularly cared for being enviable, but he didn't mind the thought, either.

"My mutations betray me, they're... pretty, unfortunately," he chuckled. "My wings are crystalline, opalescent, the radius of them lined with blades that can be launched, wielded, returned. My blades themselves, all of them, follow this same opaline hue; a chromatic conflux of differing colors, moving along in a gradient. I'll show you some time, my companion."

He could tell, already, that Talon liked magic. He wasn't surprised by that, either: he was a magical being. He was littered with his own Runes, while Asher's were kept tucked away. For the sake of ensuring his opponents did not know what magics he had until it was too late, the Empire liked to keep their soldier's arts hidden.

"How did you... learn?" Asher began, curling the corner of his lip. "That you are a Demigod, I mean. I have learned that one does not always know this about themselves, that few ever know until the moment of their calling. What was it like, for you?"