Marquis

  Year 50

  With Mira Port’s morning light blocked out carefully with the fall of curtains, Alexios sits across from me this morning with one elbow braced atop the table. He appears deceptively harmless in daylight.

  “Does your… ‘art piece’ always find herself in your bedroom?” he remarks without glancing at me.

  “She joined me for conversation, Alexios.”

  “Sure, she did. You both looked very conversational.”

  I exhale. Surely he cannot be this careless at this time of day.

  “Must we begin our day this way?” I ask.

  “You began the night with it,” he retorts, casually breaking off a piece of bread. “How is she doing anyway?”

  My gaze never leaves him as I lean back slightly in my chair.

  “Are you truly curious or is this one of your petty attempts to wound me?”

  “Well,” he begins almost playfully. “Does she still think you’re just some tragic aristocrat or have you updated her on your… nocturnal habits and unusual dietary restrictions?”

  My head shakes in disappointment.

  “I see you have chosen spitefulness this morning,” I tell him. “As per usual.”

  He lifts his goblet and takes a sip of what appears to be a rich, dark wine if the dry scent is any indication. The sharp scent lingers on his soft lips. I can smell it from here.

  “All I’m asking is that if she’s going to be staying over more often, I’d appreciate a warning before I stumble into the kitchen and see her wearing one of your robes.”

  One of my fingers idly taps against the table.

  “You ask this of me as if you did not bring half of Faer?n into whatever rooms we occupied over the years,” I say.

  “Whatever.”

  Whatever? This is simply not… “whatever”.

  “Are you not aware that without my intervention five years ago, we would not be discussing Brienne at all?”

  His hand freezes halfway to his mouth, goblet motionless as his lips tighten with disappointment.

  “I am,” Alexios murmurs.

  “Are you truly?” I say with a slight raise in my voice. “Must I remind you of the bribes paid to magistrates? How about the dock records that were adjusted and the fisherman that had to be convinced he misremembered a face under the moonlight?”

  I remember every detail. The burning of a ledger. City guards who stopped asking questions because it was easier. How Pyotr’s disappearance became merely an unfortunate accident. If another fisherman had been more observant, we would have been hunted.

  “I didn’t ask you to step in and cover my tracks,” he says, scoffing as he gazes up at me.

  “You did not,” I agree. “I intervened because I chose to, but understand this, Alexios. There will not be another incident like that here, do you understand?”

  “Are you threatening me?” he snaps, standing abruptly and shoving his chair back, chest puffed out as poor means of intimidation.

  “Gods,” I exclaim, exhausted as I rise from the table. “It is purely a boundary. I can endure your jealousy and cruelty. Even your contempt, but I will not stand by and endure your reckless behavior. Not when it jeopardizes the life we are attempting to construct in Delaria.”

  To my wonder, there is no smirk on his face or languid shrugging of shoulders.

  “Do I make myself clear, Alexios?” I ask him.

  He pauses briefly.

  “Yes,” he answers quietly. “I understand.”

  Before stepping away from the table, I bow my head.

  “I’m sorry,” he adds. “For that night. For what you had to clean up. For… all of it. I’m sorry.”

  I stop before I can fully turn my back on him.

  “What was the purpose of taking Pyotr’s life?” I ask him. “Did the Mother ask this of you or was it only out of pleasure?”

  The question has plagued the distance between us for the last five years. No matter how often I attempted to explore his muddled thoughts, it has never truly been revealed to me.

  “I…” his voice fails.

  “Did the Mother ask this of you, Alexios?” I repeat again, sternly this time.

  Eventually, he shakes his head.

  “No,” he finally admits. “But she liked it. After, I mean. She liked it a lot.”

  The exhale that leaves me is heavy with frustration.

  “Pyotr admired you,” I tell him.

  He huffs out what I assume is meant to be a cruel laugh.

  “And how would you…” he stops as soon as he remembers. “Oh. Right.”

  “You captivated him the moment you walked past him the first time,” I continue. “Thought you were… extraordinary. He loved you… or was possibly close to doing so.”

  Alexios frowns at the admission. Perhaps both of us understand that it would not have changed to outcome of that night.

  “I love you as well,” I admit outrightly because I am tired of speaking half-truths. “I have loved you for longer than someone might find reasonable, but it is difficult. I used to admire your perseverance and your ability to survive the cruelty demanded of you. Now… I find that I do not quite admire those same qualities anymore.”

  “I.. I didn’t mean to disappoint you,” he murmurs, frowning as his eyes drop to the bits of bread left on the table.

  He steps around the table and places a gentle kiss against my cheek. It is infuriating, like so many other habits of Alexios’s. Before he can retreat upstairs, I catch his wrist firmly.

  “Why do you resort to this?” I beg. “The kiss. This… softness after the damage has already been done.”

  His shoulders rise and fall languidly as he glances back at me.

  “I don’t know. Feels like the right thing to do, I guess.”

  My grip on the back of the chair tightens.

  “Why are you incapable of following my instructions?” I ask. “Why are you incapable of avoiding chaos and attention, Alexios? I do not like having to choose between loving you and protecting us.”

  He does not answer. I know he cannot because there is not one to give. Alexios ascends the stairs while I remain standing beside the kitchen table.

  --

  Brienne’s pale blonde hair is illuminated by the moonlight as she gracefully walks beside me along the main stretch of Mira Port’s boardwalk. This has become a fixture of our nights together as of late.

  “Is Alexios doing alright?”

  My stride slows as her arm hooks around mine.

  “He is… functioning,” I tell her. “Stable.”

  Those two words are the only way I can truly describe Alexios during this time in our lives. Brienne’s head leans to the side.

  “Has he always been like this?” she asks, merely curious with her question.

  “No.”

  “What really happened to him?” she asks as we continue our walk, now brightened by the dock’s lingering lanterns.

  “Alexios has survived things he should not have,” I say. “Many in his place would have perished.”

  It is the only answer I can give her. It is not my place to tell his story. A childhood crafted by the Underdark’s violence. A lover lost too soon. A patron who rewards his bloodshed. The very patron I am tasked to guard.

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  “I see,” she murmurs as she comes to a halt. “You love him. I can tell even when you talk about him as if he is somehow your greatest regret. You do that sometimes, you know?”

  “Yes,” I answer. There is no need to consider it further.

  “Does he feel the same about you?”

  “He loves me, yes,” I answer softly. “He struggles with himself… and I struggle with how to help him without commanding him.”

  “Is that why you both pretend not to need each other?”

  I look out over the dark water, knowing I have watched Alexios drown a man beneath it simply because he wanted to. I have seen what he is capable of and understand how thin the line is between control and devastation when it comes to his behavior. The low tide exposes the dark rocks beneath the pier as we resume walking together.

  “If I may ask,” she begins. “What brings a drow to the surface in the first place? His kind tend to stay in their cities below.”

  “He... lost someone,” I answer. “A man named Nykolai. You must understand that violence finds its way into every layer of this world. The Underdark is no exception. It sees more bloodshed in one day than some would see in their entire life.”

  The gentle sea breeze lifts a rogue strand of Brienne’s hair. I tuck it behind her ear as she watches me with a careful gaze.

  “His grief came with him, didn’t it?”

  I nod slowly as my eyes shift towards the outline of our house in the distance.

  “You’ve stayed by his side since,” she mentions. “Why?”

  “He would not have survived alone.”

  Brienne waits for more, but there is nothing else I can give her. She falls quiet, her hand finding mine as we make our way home.

  As we near the front entrance, the scent of rosemary and citrus drifts through one of the open windows.

  “Are either of you expecting someone else tonight?” Brienne asks with an eyebrow raised sharply.

  “No,” I tell her sternly, unsure of what exactly where are about to step into. “We are not.”

  Brienne and I pause just as we step through the entrance, both sets of eyes landing on Alexios standing at the stove with the sleeves of his robe rolled to his elbows and the pan hissing softly.

  Brienne looks up at me, bewildered.

  “He cooks?” she whispers, leaning into my side.

  I say nothing. Frankly, I am just as bewildered as she is. I have never seen such a thing. Not in Mezro, not in Port Nyanzaru, and certainly not in Athkatla.

  Alexios lifts the pan from the heat and moves to carefully transfer the food into the two dishes that have been set out next to him on the kitchen counter, plating the portions of fish, vegetables and bread evenly.

  “For you,” he calmly tells Brienne, gesturing to one of the plates with a nod of his head before taking the other into his hands.

  “Thank you,” Brienne says politely. “This is very kind of you, Alexios.”

  He nods, staying silent as she steps forward to collect her plate. I watch him closely, prepared for commentary about “art pieces” or lipstick in places he thinks it should not be, but… there is nothing. Not a smile nor a trail of sarcasm following this act.

  “You’re not eating with us?” Brienne asks as Alexios carries his plate towards the stairs.

  “No,” he murmurs, pausing at the foot of the stairs. “Enjoy.”

  Brienne looks at the plate of perfectly cooked food, then at me. Alexios ascends the stairs in silence and I am left speechless.

  “He cooked for me?” she whispers, almost to herself as she watches the stairs for another moment.

  Only once his bedroom door has closed does Brienne sit down slowly at the dining room table. I am used to his pettiness and spiteful behavior, but this…

  This unsettles me the most.

  Cautiously, Brienne takes a bite and her surprise turns into pleasure. She takes another bite.

  “This is delicious,” she exclaims under her breath before taking a slower bite to savor the flavors of the perfectly seared fish. “If this is his way of apologizing…”

  Keeping my posture composed, eyes still on her, I fold my hands behind my back.

  “Are you not going to eat?” she asks, smirking curiously. “Or is this another… dietary restriction?”

  Oh.

  Perhaps she understands more than she cares to admit. I offer her a gentle smile back.

  “I have already eaten,” I tell her easily.

  The smirk never leaves as she nods and continues eating, clearly enjoying what Alexios has cooked for her. Brienne wipes her fingers gently on the cleansing cloth next to her then glances at the stairs again.

  “He loves you very much, you know,” she tells me.

  “I know,” I answer honestly and I do. “Will you excuse me for a moment?”

  She nods and continues savoring her meal as I ascent the stairs, finding Alexios’s bedroom door left ajar. Seated near the window with his back straight, Alexios has removed the bard’s urn from its usual place on the bedside table/ He works at polishing it with gentle, soft circles.

  “Didn’t think you’d come up here,” he says, not looking up as I step inside.

  “Your presence is missed downstairs, Alexios.”

  His shoulders sag, though the soft movements continue as he cleans the urn.

  “Did you ever cook for him?” I carefully ask the question.

  Alexios pauses, his hand tightening around the cloth before continuing once more.

  “I.. I don’t remember,” he answers quietly, almost as if he is ashamed of not being able to recall.

  Rather uncertain whether to offer comfort or control, I stand just outside of the doorway. Alexios lifts the urn to ensure there will be no fingerprints left behind.

  “You have my gratitude,” I tell him. “For cooking for Brienne.”

  “I don’t hate her,” he shrugs. “I don’t hate you either, believe it or not.”

  It almost causes me to laugh, though not because I believe it is untrue. Alexios places the urn back in its place, taking a moment to align it precisely where it can bathe in the moonlight. He is rather gentle with his dead, choosing to carry them carefully. The living however…

  He chooses to act carelessly. Most of the time, I suppose.

  I return downstairs to find that Brienne has finished eating, now choosing to sit at ease in front of the hearth. Her hands are folded loosely in her lap and she smiles as I enter. After a few quiet moments, Alexios trails behind me. Brienne bows graciously before him.

  “Thank you for dinner,” she says. “You are a wonderful cook.”

  “You’re welcome,” he mutters, bowing his head.

  She makes another attempt at conversing with him and surprisingly, he answers. His words are kept as brief, one-word responses. When he sits near us, he keeps a polite distance.

  Though I wish for Alexios to be beside us tonight, I am grateful for the small effort he is choosing to give me. It is clear he is not in the right mind to provoke either of us tonight. Perhaps he finds that we are not worth the effort tonight.

  After “riveting” conversations about the harbor markets and group of traveling bards arriving soon, Brienne rises from her chair.

  “I should make my way home,” she says, smiling politely at the two of us. “It is getting rather late.”

  “You are more than welcome to stay,” I offer as I stand as well. “If you would prefer other forms of comfort instead.”

  Alexios remains seated with his head lowered. Brienne watches him for a moment.

  “I’d like that,” she speaks. “But not tonight. I think he needs time, don’t you agree?”

  “Allow me to walk you out then,” I answer, bowing politely to her.

  As we make it to the doorway, I lower my head and brush my lips softly against hers.

  “Let him love you, hmm?” she says after a short pause. “In his own… Alexios way.”

  I do not move after the door closes behind her. Alexios is still seated, back turned to me without offering snide commentary.

  --

  Leaning back against the marble rim of the bath, I allow myself to find a moment of true clarity here in the tolerably warm water. Alexios knocks softly before stepping into the bathing room. I open my eyes, admiring the fitted black leather armor he wears tonight. Functional in its use and clearly made for efficiency under the moonlight, there is something intimate in how it molds to his body.

  “This is remarkable on you,” I tell him honestly. “Simple yet elegant in its practicality. I assume you will be away tonight?”

  “The queen’s marked another target,” he tells. “Just outside of the merchant’s district. Guaranteed no witnesses.”

  It appears as though the work that went into covering up Pyotr’s… mysterious disappearance… has paid off. Alexios has been made precise once again.

  “You must still be careful, do you understand?”

  “I will,” he answers, nodding.

  “Remember, Alexios. Though you may serve the Mother, this does not forbid being gentle.”

  “I will, Marquis.”

  “Forgive me,” I say mockingly. “It is only that you do have a habit of forgetting.”

  “I get it, alright?” he almost snaps with a slight smirk on his face. “No pier spectacles, I promise.”

  I call his name before he turns to exit.

  “I am grateful, Alexios.”

  “For what?” he asks, eyes narrowing in my direction.

  “For the years after Pyotr,” I continue. “You have been relatively… hushed with your kills.”

  Hushed, I remind myself. He is not tame.

  “Thank you.”

  He moves slowly into the bathing room and stops just beside the bath. His lips gently find their way to mine.

  “I’ll be back before the sun comes up,” he whispers.

  “Come back to me safely,” I ask of him as my thumb traces his jaw, leaving droplets of water on his skin.

  I settle back into the bath and listen closely as he turns and recedes down the hall. The entrance to our home closes quietly. The bathwater laps gently as I sink back down again. I would be lying to myself if I said that his absence is not weighing on me tonight.

  Though my mind wants to think of practical things such as the routes and exits he could take to get where he needs to safely, it is his face when he leaned down to kiss me that has taken root inside my chest.

  I cannot ignore the heat of arousal that gathers beneath the surface of the water. My hand drifts lower through the water, journeying from my chest to my stomach, then lower as my fingers come to wrap around my length. The glide of my hand withdraws a soft groan from my chest. Perhaps in my thoughts, it is not own pale hand stroking me, but rather Alexios’s.

  The matrons of House Baenre relied on symmetry and adornment for him, but now he is beautiful in ways that are no longer delicate. Different than the beauty I find in Phaedra, yet just as seductive. He is beautiful in the way his crimson eyes look upon the world and finds that it is insufficient for him. In the way his lips smirk in both cruelty and tenderness. In the way pettiness finds him easily before he surrenders and presses kisses to my lips and cheeks before leaving.

  With the rhythmic splashes of water moving around my arm, I tilt my head back against the marble and quicken my pace at the thought of the wet heat of his mouth replacing my hand. Although my grip tightens slightly, it is a poor substitute for the touch I so desperately crave.

  He could never be soft or innocent. No… not Alexios. But even after violence and grief, there is a fire inside of him that refuses to be extinguished. He carries it with him even as he silently moves through the night to end the life of a man somewhere in Mira Port.

  I do not only love him, I admit to myself. I admire him.

  With the final thought of Alexios rising from the water, his strong body glistening, it is the final push that sends me reeling over the edge itself. My body convulses as I let out a guttural moan, my release spilling into the bathwater as the shuddering tremors eventually subside.

  I smile bitterly, lifting my hand from the water to watch as rivulets of my diluted spend run down my pale fingers. How absurd is it for an immortal being such as myself to yearn for him after all this time?

  No matter the lies I tried to tell myself throughout the decades, I cannot help but admire the stubborn part of him that tries desperately to be more than petty violence and survival.

  --

  My hands nimbly seal the curtains closed, blocking out the inevitable morning light rising soon, before making my way to bed. With a book resting open in my hands, I hear the door to the entrance open and close softly, followed by the quiet patter of footsteps ascending the stairs.

  To my surprise, my bedroom door opens. Alexios steps inside and discards his robe over a nearby chair, a few strands of hair coated in the early morning dew.

  “Are you alright?” I ask.

  “Yes,” he answers, pulling back the blankets and sliding into bed beside me before I can ask how the contract went.

  “Alexios, what is the meaning…”

  He buries his face into the pillow and breathes deeply.

  “It smells like her,” he mutters before tossing the pillow to the floor out of irritation. “I don’t fucking like it.”

  “Surely you understand this is my bed?” I question, closing the book slowly.

  “Mh-hmm.”

  Slowly, he rolls onto his side and pulls the blanket over his shoulder. Still, he faces away from me.

  “I’m tired of fighting with you all the time,” he admits gently. “It’s exhausting. Is it okay if I stay?”

  “It is unlike you to ask for permission,” I say, placing the book aside. “You may stay as long as you would like.”

  Alexios exhales a sigh of relief and my eyes wander over the defined muscles of his back. He moves closer and reaches back blindly to find my hand above the blankets to simply hold it.

  “I’m so tired, Marquis.”

  “I know,” I whisper. “It is alright now.”

  At last, he drifts into his trance and I am left grateful that he wished to share space with me.