Peace

Peace

Status: Finished

Genre: Fantasy

Details

Status: Finished

Genre: Fantasy

Summary

Ten years on from the Shadow Wars peace has seen Severine thrive under the continued leadership of King Titus. Alexander Tor’al has vanished into the footnotes of history while Nathan Drison has retired to the quiet life. For Brent T’elc, Chosen of Heironeous, life has also changed. No longer adventuring beyond the next horizon he has finally found peace in one location. Commander of an army and beloved leader in Land of Zealots he continues to walk the difficult path of Chosen. Yet Brent knows all to well how fickle finding peace can be. I have used the D&D religion of Heironeous and have done so only out of deep and abiding respect and love for it. I have written added my own analects and personality, but have tried to keep as honestly to some materials found in the D&D world as I can. This is, for legal purposes, a fanfiction under the Open Games Licence.

Summary

Ten years on from the Shadow Wars peace has seen Severine thrive under the continued leadership of King Titus. Alexander Tor’al has vanished into the footnotes of history while Nathan Drison has retired to the quiet life.

For Brent T’elc, Chosen of Heironeous, life has also changed. No longer adventuring beyond the next horizon he has finally found peace in one location. Commander of an army and beloved leader in Land of Zealots he continues to walk the difficult path of Chosen. Yet Brent knows all to well how fickle finding peace can be.


I have used the D&D religion of Heironeous and have done so only out of deep and abiding respect and love for it. I have written added my own analects and personality, but have tried to keep as honestly to some materials found in the D&D world as I can. This is, for legal purposes, a fanfiction under the Open Games Licence.

Chapter36 (v.1) - Chapter Thirty-Six

Chapter Content - ver.1

Submitted: November 11, 2016

Reads: 132

Comments: 1

A A A | A A A

Chapter Content - ver.1

Submitted: November 11, 2016

A A A

A A A

CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

 

Cool air tickled his nose. Yawning Brent stretched under the warm covers and felt blindly for the other body in his bed. Feeling the cold of an unused pillow reality slowly came into perception. Blinking sleepily he sighed and sat up. Opening the travel journal he skimmed over last night’s brief exchange of messages. He frowned at the restraint they both had had to use when communicating due to the presence of Adan and resolved to ensure their reunification was free of any such restrictions.

 

A grin quickly grew on his face as a shakily drawn word appeared. Today, it read. Excited he grabbed the magic quill and penned back, Just wait until we’re in our rooms and you’re in my arms. Looking around his quarters he did a quick tidy up before jumping into the shower and scrubbing his body clean. 

 

While mentally he knew Patrick wouldn’t arrive until late afternoon, his heart bubbled with excitement and he often he looked out the window towards the southern gate. Conversations with friends and the few cleric classes he oversaw helped pass the time until he could barely contain his excitement and went to distract himself with a book.

 

At long last word came of his return. Brent’s smile was almost left behind by the speed in which he exited the library and tore down to the courtyard. Straightening his shirt he felt someone step up behind him and scuffle his hair. “Damn it, Jason!” he hissed trying to comb it back into place with his fingers. Jason sniggered and folded his arms. “You look like a right fool prettying yourself up – just relax, Brent.” Brent snorted, elbowing him back in response. “Bet you’d be oiling up your muscles if it was your Aly, you prick. I just want to look tidy. Nothing wrong with that.”

“Ah, so that’s why you’re Armour’s suspiciously absent,” drolled Jason, “to look ‘tidy’. Here I was thinking it was so there was less to loose when you got back to your rooms.” Brent growled and Jason put his hands up in surrender, knowing that he’d already won.

 

“Oh leave him alone, you big bully,” said Aly softly. Standing on the other side of Brent she link her arm through his. “He’s just jealous.”

“What? Me, jealous?” retorted Jason dramatising his playful indignation. Aly placed her free hand on the Chosen’s chest and ran her fingers across his torso. “The Chosen’s body is so handsome it doesn’t need any oil,” she remarked cheekily winking at her very embarrassed friend. While Jason clasped a hand to his heart in shock he soon lost the ability to continue the act when his partner added, “He saves the oil for other uses.”

 

Sliding his arm free and stepping back from the two uncontrollably laughing paladins, Brent ran his fingers through his hair and shook his head. “Why I hang out with you two I’ll never know,” he grumbled as their mirth died down. Aly reached up and neatened his hair. “You love us,” she enlightened him. “Just as we love you. Now contain yourself for he’s coming through the gateway.”

 

Turning his head Brent caught sight of the horses strolling through the stone gateway. Several folk waved in greeting. Adan lifted his hand and grinned back while Patrick gave a few small nods of acknowledgement. Crossing the grounds to meet them, Brent nodded in greeting to Adan before taking the rein of Patrick’s horse. Looking up at his lover he saw hesitance and worry, rather than the smouldering look he was expecting. “Give me your wrist,” he said, thinking back to the shaky handwriting. He held the cold hand carefully inside his warm one. Whispering a prayer he felt the heat pass into Patrick’s hand. “Better?” he asked quietly. A brief nod was his response.

 

Passing the rein to the waiting stable hand, he held out his hand in offering. Patrick glanced at it then shook his head, sliding himself out of the saddle. Once his feet were on the floor Brent pulled him into a hug before holding him at arm’s length. His eyes made a quick assessment of his condition. “You’re exhausted,” he murmured, concern colouring his voice. “I’ll order some food brought to our rooms.”

“You don’t have to-” began Patrick but Brent shook his head.

“It’s my turn to look after you. Come.” Hooking Patrick’s arm around his broad shoulders he scooted him close and rested a supportive hand on his hip. Holding him close he guided Patrick back into the Keep.

 

Back in their rooms Brent quickly shut the door and planted Patrick on the lounge. Kneeling at his feet he quickly unknotted and removed his boots. “How far did you ride today?” he asked noticing the blisters around his toes.

“Only from Terris.”

“You haven’t been taking your boots off, have you? Your blasted sprained wrist,” scowled Brent inspecting the damage. “After you shower I’ll put a poultice on them to speed their healing.”

“Why not use your spells?” questioned Patrick dryly. Brent gave him a strange look and stood up. “You want me to help you get undressed?”

“No.”

Brent frowned. “If you have more injuries I will find out about them, you know. Adan has a lot of explaining to do.”

“Don’t. It wasn’t his fault.”

Brent folded his arms. “Well? Disrobe and I’ll take those things and get them washed for you.”

“What? Here?” blinked Patrick in surprise.  Brent gave him another strange look.

“You get a head injury too when you fell the other day?”

“Nah, just,” Patrick floundered for the words, “out of my depth.”

 

Closing the gap between them Brent touched his forehead to check for fever before running knowing fingers over his skull and neck. “Well you’re glands aren’t swollen. Yet,” he added with the ghost of a cheeky smile. Pulling him close he brushed his lips over his with a chaste kiss. “Go shower,” he ordered softly, a hand roaming with familiarly down Patrick’s hip.  “I’ll bring your bags up and get some new clothes ready for you.” Stepping back Brent headed for the door. “And Patrick,” he called, his hand on the door nob, “whatever’s happened, I’m glad you’re home.”

 

 

After collecting Patrick’s travel bags from the stable Brent hurried by the kitchen to scrounge up a meal for two. Returning to their quarters he heard the shower running and toyed with the idea of joining his lover under the refreshing spray of water. Laying out the meal he made his way into Patrick’s room to retrieve his favourite soft trousers and laced shirt.

 

Hearing the water stop he came back into the main room. His heart leapt in his chest. With a pale blue towel wrapped around his waist, Patrick stood still by a bedpost, his gaze focused on the large inviting mattress. Black curls clung to his alabaster neck, somehow untanned by his weeks on the road. Water dripped sparingly onto his shoulders and trickled down his back.

 

On soft feet Brent snuck up behind him and trapped his arms by his sides. Kissing his neck he whispered, “We can dispense with this towel and eat afterwards, my siren.” He felt Patrick straighten and chuckled as he bit lightly on his collarbone. Hooking his fingers into the edge of the towel he peeled it away. Patrick gasped, goosebumps appearing on his arms. Spinning him around in his embrace Brent pushed him back onto the bed and followed him down. Kneeling above his lover he quickly grabbed his wrists and trapped them above his head with the discreetly hidden silk rope by the pillows. “I have missed you, missed this,” he murmured gazing heatedly at the naked man on his bed. He noticed a padded bandage over his belly button and put the thought aside to ask about it later. Patrick’s eyes were shut and his chest rose rapidly with his heavy breathing. Lowering his head he flicked his tongue over one pert nipple before sucking it greedily into his mouth. Fingers wandering lustily he ground against his lover. “Can you feel how much you make me want you, lover? How much I have longed to taste you?” he whispered trailing kisses down his chest. Finding his lover unresponsive below he smiled and held him in his hand, pumping slowly. “That tired, eh? Bet I can help matters,” he uttered lowering his mouth to suck on his sack.

 

At the first contact of tongue Patrick jerked violently off the bed. Brent chuckled and held his waist down with one arm while he continued to pump his member. “That good, eh?” he quipped noticing the beads of sweat forming on his lover’s face as his expression tightened. “Imagine how good it’ll feel when I’m buried in you.”

 

His lover continued to flop and tense against the mattress, soft groans and gasps emanating from his pursed lips. Yet still he hadn’t hardened. Frustrated Brent lifted his lover’s legs further over his shoulders. Parting his lower cheeks, Brent ran his lips along the gap, his tongue finding and teasing his lover’s tight hole. Wetting his tongue he focused on pushing and loosening the unyielding ring of muscles. Changing his hold on Patrick, he licked his finger and pushed a digit into his arse, causing his lover to vehemently cry out as he writhed on the bed.

 

Grinning Brent began to move his digit back and forth, determined to get his lover another orgasm close to his first. Patrick squirmed on the bed. “Out! Get out!” he hissed, his face screwed up as his legs kicked out. Easing his finger back Brent kissed the inside of his thigh. “What is it, love? Need to catch your breath?” Patrick shook his head and gave a strangled cry when Brent engulfed his cock with his hot mouth. “No, please!” he whimpered. Brent brushed his thigh soothingly while he swallowed his manhood whole. Patrick’s voice took on a fearful desperate tone, “Let me go! Gods please, let me go!”

 

Confused, Brent stopped and pulled back. “Patrick?” he asked in confusion. “What’s going on?” The man on his bed shivered and shook. Exiting quickly Brent washed his hands thoroughly and returned with a fresh towel. The few moments away allowed him to quickly think through the situation yet he still came up blank. Kneeling on the bed he untied his lover and slung the towel around his shoulders when he quickly sat up. Patrick tried to pull away but Brent refused to let him go, stoically dragging him close. Sitting on the side of the bed with their legs over the edge he held the shaking man in a one armed hug. Kissing his shoulder Brent whispered, “My love, my light, tell me what’s wrong? Did someone hurt you while you were away? Please talk to me.” Patrick tried again to pull away but Brent hardened his grip on him.

 

“You’re not leaving my side until you tell me what’s going on,” Brent growled. Grasping his chin he forced Patrick to face him. “Open those damn eyes and look at me.” Green eyes stared into blue but he did not recognise them. All the humour, the sexy teasing, the youthful outlook on life were gone. In their place was anger bordering on hatred. “Don’t touch me,” hissed Patrick grabbing the edge of the towel and trying to cover himself. “I bloody well will!” retorted Brent. “For weeks you’ve tormented my dreams with the scandalous things you’ve written. I can’t remember the last time I missed someone as much as I have you.” Gripping his upper arms he turned Patrick to face him. “For Celestia’s sake man, tell me what has happened!”

 

“I don’t want you to touch me.” Brent looked incredulous.

“Last week you wrote that you couldn’t wait to ride my cock from dusk til dawn. Now you don’t-” He shook his head in disbelief. “No. I don’t believe you.”

“Just let me go. That’s all I want.”

 

Releasing him Brent stormed to the other side of the room and flung the clothes he had retrieved earlier at him. Chest rising in anger he took several deep breaths to calm himself whilst Patrick dressed behind his back. “Decent?” he hissed angrily.

“Yes,” came the quiet reply. Turning Brent felt his anger war with concern as he watched the hesitant movement Patrick took to sit on a nearby seat. “Was I too rough?” he questioned softly, collecting some healing supplies and moving to kneel once more at his feet. He saw Patrick’s stiff nod. “You haven’t touched yourself of late?”

“Not in that way, no.”

Gently he lifted a foot and began to dab on the poultice. “I thought,” he began hesitantly, “you were enjoying yourself.” Patrick’s eyes narrowed.

“Why would you think that?”

“Your moans, how your body moved. You weren’t hard, but I figured with the exhaustion. . .”

Patrick’s response was cutting. “You figured wrong.”

 

Pulling out a rolled up bandage Brent paused to look at Patrick’s face. “Why didn’t you speak up earlier? If your arse is too sore we can always make love in other ways. You taught me that.” Patrick looked ill at the suggestion. “I don’t like the idea of any of it. Not with you.” Brent froze, his mouth half open in shock.

“You, you used to find reasons to drag me back here to do exactly that.”

“I didn’t like it,” repeated Patrick, his knuckled turning white where his hands held onto the base of the seat by his knees. “I never have with you.”

 

There was a pregnant pause as Brent stilled. His breath caught in his lungs. “Ever?” he whispered. Patrick moistened his lips and replied slowly, “I don’t like you touching me. What you did to my arse, what you want to do, makes me feel like throwing up then drowning myself in ale.” Brent looked as though he’d been physically punched. “But you still love me?”

“I don’t. I don’t love you, Brent T’elc.”

 

Brent’s world came crashing down. White noise filled his ears and blackness covered his vision.

 

He quickly became aware of the situation he was in. Kneeling at the feet of a wounded man, bandage in hand. Both desperate with the need to get away.

 

Mechanically he bound Patrick’s feet without another word. Standing he walked over to the window and looked out. Cold and dead, his voice carried. “Get your things and get out. You can stay in my lands or go as you wish. Anything from your room is yours to take freely. The guards will check when you leave my chambers. I will not return until nightfall.” His piece said he walked briskly to the door and paused. “One last question: before you left you loved me. Upon your return you do not. Was it something I did?”

“Yes.”

“What?”

“Violent men don’t get happy endings,” Patrick quoted softly. Brent choked up and covered his mouth to prevent himself vomiting right there and then. Opening the door he left the room. Signalling a nearby guard he curtly requested two guards and Jason be placed as guards on his door to check the contents that Patrick would be removing from his rooms. When one guard appeared he took his leave, half stumbling down the corridor.


© Copyright 2017 Justin Fyld. All rights reserved.

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