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Chapter Text

Dalamar looked over the basket carefully. They had come in yesterday, and the basket was already half empty. And maybe some part of his Silvanesti self, not quite suffocated, worried over it. Bracing himself to be blamed for anything that went wrong- dirty laundry, lost trinkets, even missing food.

He shook his head. Idiocy. Who would care? It was only he and Raistlin in the Tower, and it wasn’t the Dead Ones running away with the apples. Raistlin had been busy with something involving them- who knew? Nuitari willing he might even be eating them. Dalamar made a note to pick up more tomorrow, the apples wouldn’t last long at this rate.

They didn’t. Nor did the next lot. Dalamar stacked the straw baskets away and puzzled over them. Where were all these apples going? He picked one up and examined it. A warm burst of red-orange, firm and smelling sweet. Dug out a few more and they were all fine- a few a little green, but it didn’t look like the Dead Ones had been near them.

He considered saying something that evening. Raistlin looked a little frazzled, picking over his spellbooks. He was using his left hand tentatively, fingers brushing over the pages more cautiously than usual. Dalamar reached over and Raistlin flinched away. “What is it?”

Raistlin hesitated a moment, then gave him his hand. The gold skin was reddened along the side of his hand and smallest finger. “I was careless.”

“You haven’t treated it?”

His lip curled, “I was- distracted. The aloe is in the jar on the right.”

“What are you doing?” Dalamar shook his head. It was meant mostly rhetorically, Raistlin kept his secrets shut up tight as an oyster around a pearl and he hardly expected an answer.

To his surprise, he got one. “I am- trying something.” Raistlin sighed and made a small sound of pain as Dalamar smeared the thick juice over his hand. “I have not been successful yet, and would rather you not see the- failed attempts.”

“Proud as ever.” Dalamar stroked his hand.

“And have I ever seen a scroll from you with a stray inkspot, or a potion that was anything but perfect?”

Dalamar smiled, felt Raistlin’s hand turn under his, stroke his palm. “Then we suit each other very well,” and leant over for a kiss.

All the same, Dalamar did check on the laboratory the next day, and the pool of seeing in case Raistlin was trying anything there. But the pool was empty, and the laboratory dust had not been disturbed since- well, since.

Since a time they would both rather put behind them. Dalamar rubbed his knuckles over his chest, lost in remembered pain.

“Dalamar?” Raistlin’s voice cut through his reverie, and Dalamar turned, closing the laboratory doors behind him.

Raistlin was down by the stairs to the kitchen, Dalamar leant over. “Are you ready to show me what you’ve been making?” He brushed his fingers through the magic, drew himself down to stand beside Raistlin.

“I think so,” Raistlin smiled a little. He smelled- sweet, quite unlike his usual scent of roses and spell components. Like- apples.

Dalamar leaned over and buried his face in Raistlin’s neck, inhaling deeply. “I think I can guess.” He smiled, “Just in time for dinner.”

“I believe it worked.” He took Dalamar’s hand and they walked down into the kitchen.

The smell was even stronger there, mouthwatering. The oven was still hazy with heat, and the pie was steaming on the kitchen table.

“I never had an oven before.” Raistlin continued as Dalamar got the plates and two spoons. “Just a fireplace. I may have been adventurous.” He glanced at the pie, and looked away quickly. “It should taste good, regardless of what it looks like.”

Dalamar smiled, and cut through the rich golden crust. “I think I can do something about that.” He served up the portion, sliding the spoon in and lifting it up. “Close your eyes.”

Chapter Text

Dalamar felt the fine hairs on the back of his neck stand up, someone was watching.

He paused at the gate to the garden he had charmed free of vermin. Ostensibly fiddling with the lock, but listening as closely as he could. But the outskirts of Solace were quiet, and if not for the sudden silence of the birds and crickets, everything should have been well.

He needed to get back to Raistlin's house. He needed to be back there now.

His shoulderblades itched, they were behind him, a twitch of the bushes in the corner of his eye suggested he was being flanked too. Dalamar drew in a breath he would need very badly, got his legs under him, and ran.

He cleared the fence, flew over the kitchen garden, bounded past the back gate and barely cleared the side of the vallenwood. Someone behind him cursed and he redoubled his efforts to get away because despite the accent- it was unmistakably elvish.

His heart beat against his ribs, in time with his panting breaths- get out get out get out-

Someone hit him in the side, knocking him flying. Dalamar snarled and grabbed his dagger, panic bursting through him. He lashed out, blade flashing in the sunlight and biting into a tangle of green cloth- and through, into the yielding flesh beneath. A cry of pain, and Dalamar broke free, struggling to keep his balance.

Hands snatched at the back of his robes, and Dalamar turned, his hands snatching up at cast-

And something cracked into the back of his head. The world revolved and he stumbled, falling to his knees and his dagger slipped out of his fingers and no- no-

A blade flashed towards him, and Dalamar managed to roll out of the way, he drew up a foot and kicked the sneering Qualinesti full in the face. The elf cursed and stumbled back, dropping his sword and groping for his bloody nose.

“Get hold of him-“

A fist plunged into his stomach, another snatched in his hair, wrenching him upright. An arm snaked around his neck and Dalamar sucked in a desperate, last breath and sank his teeth into the wrist as the grip cut off the air.

Another cry, the grip loosened and Dalamar snapped his head back, feeling the satisfying impact of the back of his head against a nose.

“You- filthy animal-“

A sword drove at his ribs, Dalamar twisted and it snicked through his robes, drawing a line of blood. One of them had his arm, twisting it up behind his back as the sword-wielder snarled through her broken nose, drawing her sword back to spit him.

Dalamar hurled himself forwards, catching her by surprise. The sword span out of her hands, catching Dalamar on the side of his head and flashing away in the long grass. They crashed down together and the elf screamed- although whether Dalamar had done any damage or if it was just the horror of having a filthy Dark elf on top of her.

Dalamar lashed out, wild and desperate- hands and head and knees and he tore his arm free and seized his own wrist, bringing his elbow down on the elf’s face again and again-

Something hot and cold and draining and bad sank into his back. It was a clumsy thrust- gouging through the flesh and glancing against his shoulderblade- but then it lodged between that and his backbone and his breath stuttered- just one wrong motion would sever his spine- one more inch deep would puncture a lung-

He turned, managing to throw off the elf on his back. He stumbled back, hands red with Dalamar’s blood-

“Stay back!” A third, the one Dalamar had kicked in the face. She had a bow drawn, the arrow pointed at Dalamar. “I have it!”

Dalamar grabbed the half-conscious Qualinesti and hauled her up. His shoulder was a spreading ball of pain and his breath stuttered, terrified to draw in a full breath in case he nicked his own lung.

“Stay back.” He hissed.

“Let her go!” The other two started to close. Dalamar could see the one that had stabbed him glancing at the grass, trying to find the sword.

The world span around him, his legs buckled, weak and trembling. Move, move. He backed off, step by step, hoisting the elf up further as a shield. He moved her from one hand to another, the wound on his shoulder pulled and he choked, but he’d freed a hand and groped over his back, touching the blood soaked handle of his own dagger.

He’d have minutes, after he pulled it out. If he didn’t, he would die more certainly. Dalamar ducked behind the vallenwood, then drew a ragged breath, and pulled it free.

The pain nearly made him vomit. He dropped the unconscious elf, and forced himself into a run. The shouts broke out behind him, and an arrow whirred, barely missing him and thudding dully into the tree. He could taste his own blood, feel the slow, spreading warmth of his own blood over his back-

“There! Over there!” Dalamar started, stumbled, the world swam in front of him, blurring the outlines of the Solace guards, the blotched white shape of the fat innkeeper. He tried to turn, tried to get away from them- but the world swept out from under his feet, and he crashed down into the knotted roots of the vallenwood.

The pain jarred Dalamar back to reality and he cried out, trying to crawl away from the searing agony in his shoulder- but a iron-hard hand snapped around his wrists, pinning him down.

“Don’t be a fool,” A short, snapping voice cut into his ear. “Raistlin, tell him to behave himself.”

Raistlin- Dalamar forced his eyes open. The world was blurry, but he was pinned down against a bed, the world dancing around him in a confusion of firelight and shimmering glass. He choked, tried to speak-

“Don’t move.” Raistlin’s voice was stiff, trembling. “I am stitching your back together so you don’t bleed out.”

The needle slid into the swollen, pain-bloated skin of his back, dragging in a raw rough thread that made him shiver in pain. One of the hands on his wrists loosened, and something was pressed against his lips. “Willow bark,” The first voice. “Chew on it, it’ll help with the pain.”

Dalamar blinked, the woman’s face swam into view. A face like carved brown wood, hair grey and scraped back from her face. Black eyes like those of birds’. He knew her- but the pain- and the memories slipped away.

He closed his eyes, chewing on the bark. His body hurt everywhere, his hair was matted to the side of his head and the bed swayed under him, as though on water.

“How bad?” He gritted out.

“Your wrist is fractured.” Raistlin’s voice wavered, then grew steady, “Your skull nearly was, but it is starting to swell, so you may have escaped that. They cut you to the rib, and this could have-“ He broke off, “We have stopped the bleeding. You will be fine.”

Dalamar tried to nod- and regretted it at once. Raistlin got out of the way, and the woman got his head over the side of the bed so he could vomit into the bedpan.

When he’d finished, he curled up on his side, shivering. Raistlin lifted his head, slid up beside him and let him rest against his thigh, stroking his hair. “What happened?” Dalamar managed.

“They came for the fair.” Raistlin sighed. “Apparently they were too high and mighty to mingle with humans, but not so much as to keep away from the brandy. Otik heard them making plans to go after you, and alerted the guard.” He paused. The woman- Meggin, he mind finally coughed up- handed Dalamar a glass of something warm and herbal and he drank, his stomach trembling warningly at the liquid. “One of them died.” He continued, “Choked on her own blood. The archer survived, but won’t be looking in the mirror any more.” Dalamar smiled. “The guards are fairly satisfied you were defending yourself.”

“Where are they now?” Still two left, and if they came now, Dalamar would be worse than useless-

“Gone. They ran after it became clear no one was going to finish you off.”

Dalamar nodded, but his hands clenched into fists, helplessly. They could come back. They could return and kill both of them and there was nothing Dalamar could do-

Raistlin sighed, he settled on his back on the bed, Dalamar’s head resting on his chest. Dalamar could hear his heart beating, his breath coming warm and steady. Exhaustion washed over him. “Let me.” Raistlin murmured. “I will watch over us, this time.”

You can’t. Dalamar wanted to warn him. What did Raistlin know of danger? How would he know if they were being hunted? And Dalamar- was weak, could not do anything-

Maybe Raistlin knew what he was thinking. He hushed him, pulled him close and despite the pain in his back, the racking ache through his body, Dalamar felt his eyes start to close.

“I can keep us safe.” Raistlin continued, steady and calm. “You can sleep.”

Dalamar sighed wearily, and let the world slip away.

Chapter Text

The smoke was rising from between two great, rocky hills and Raistlin froze, hand out to brace himself against a scrubby pine. It drew up unpleasant visions of red dragons, and the aftermath of their work. Dalamar had also stopped dead, so still among the trees that it was an effort to spot him. His eyes were fixed on the pale, rising cloud, and he licked his lips, nervously, and Raistlin suspected his mind had travelled along the same lines.

“Stay, Shalafi,” He whispered, “I will check.”

There were half a dozen spells that could have done the work instead, but Raistlin nodded. If it was a dragon, and the beast was still nearby, casting a spell would be as good as screaming their presence for all to see.

He kept his eyes on his apprentice as he climbed nimbly up the slope to get a better view down. He peered for a long moment, then glanced back at Raistlin, nodding. It was clear. He sat down on the outcropping as Raistlin reached him, looking down. “I have not seen anything like this before, but it’s not dragon’s work.”

Raistlin peered down in turn. Even to his eyes, the deep valley below was strange. It was covered in multi-coloured pools, from which steam was rising. Raistlin felt an old stirring inside him, a nearly forgotten excitement. He had found something new and unknown, and could share the experience with someone who could truly appreciate it. “Well, then we had best investigate.”

The slopes down were steep escarpments, and Raistlin kept a tight grip on his staff as they carefully descended, testing the ground before trusting his weight to it. The valley was deserted, and although they paused, listening carefully when their descent dislodged some loose stones; their presence disturbed nothing but a few small birds.

Closer too, the pools were even more brilliant. Some deep green as the sea, others a dazzling sky blue. Several more a vivid and bloody red. Raistlin sat, and let the beauty soak into him. Whatever this place was, it was old enough to laugh at his curse, and he felt the part of himself left sore and weary from endless death relax and warm.

And it was warm. The steam rose off pools that ranged from lukewarm to boiling. Despite the late autumn chill, Raistlin removed his cloak, the warmth easing his chest. The air smelled of iron and sulphur.

“I believe I have seen something like this before.” Dalamar broke in unexpectedly. “Do you remember my visit to Mount Nevermind?”

“Yes.” Raistlin said dryly. He’d been entirely against the Dark elf’s journey, worried he’d end up blown up by the lunatics who ran the place. But Dalamar had insisted, it was a demonstration of gnomish technology to the leaders of Krynn, and Raistlin should at least have someone there to represent him, even if he’d personally prefer the entire place explode. “Are you suggesting something useful came of that little holiday?”

“Yes.” His smile was just a little smug. “These are volcanic pools. Mount Horn is not far, the water runs through the molten rock, and are so heated and coloured.”

“Hmm.” It made sense, but he wasn’t about to admit it. He scowled at the waters, “Do they have any use?”

He heard Dalamar stand and walk over to his side, and shivered when he ran a hand gently over Raistlin’s shoulder. “They do.” He sat beside him, sitting just close enough that his breath stirred Raistlin’s hair, and sent prickles of pleasure up his spine. “They use pipes to draw up the waters for bathing, and consider it of great benefit to health.”

“Gnomes believe that being blown up at least twice a week staves off colds.” Raistlin snapped irritably, “Excuse me for not putting much stock in their opinions.”

“Then put it in mine,” he sat a little closer. “I tried it one evening, it felt delightful.”

Raistlin sighed. “This is all a scheme to get me naked, isn’t it?”

“It is.” Dalamar kissed the side of his face, just behind his eye, “Is it working?”

Unfortunately, yes. They had been travelling the Khalkists for several days already, and he would have been grateful for a wash even in meltwater. The chance of a hot bath was too good an offer to pass up. “For that, perhaps I should order you to climb up and keep watch in case someone were to come upon us.”

“And be tragically too far away to help should someone surprise you while washing?” Dalamar continued to trace kisses down his cheek, and his neck. Raistlin shivered. “Better I stay- close, Shalafi, to be better placed to defend you.” He started on Raistlin’s robes.

Raistlin huffed in not-entirely-irritation, knotted a hand in Dalamar’s black hair, and yanked his head back up to catch his lips in a crushing kiss. “How close?” he breathed against his mouth.

Dalamar’s eyes were closed, a delicious shiver of pleasure working through him. “As close as you please, Shalafi.” His voice was low, husky, the title a lover’s caress. His eyes half closed, framing grey eyes in dark lashes. His smile the smirk of a satisfied cat- he’d gotten what he wanted.

“Very well,” he pulled away, leaving Dalamar shivering and hungry. “Let us find a pool that will not boil us alive.”

One of the green pools seemed the most promising. It was steaming, but not boiling, and when Raistlin tested the water with his hand, it was a pleasant, muscle-easing heat, that reminded Raistlin of his many aches and pains from the last few days. He unbuckled his boots, and stripped off his robes. Dalamar had his boots off, feet in the water, eyes raking over Raistlin in lust and satisfaction. Mine, that look said, I have him. I win everything.

Raistlin didn’t dignify that with a response, and tried to ignore the secret part of him that thought just how good it felt to have someone who wanted him- not only wanted him, but was proud of having him. To feel so- desired. He shoved the thought away, and slid into the water.

It was blissful. Three nights of sleeping rough had left his back and shoulders a mass of knots and bruises, and the heat soaked into the abused muscles, leaving him fighting back the urge to groan in pleasure.

Apparently he hadn’t been entirely successful. “That good, Shalafi? I did say-”

Raistlin had had enough; he reached up, grabbed Dalamar by the bottom of his robes, and yanked him hard.

Dalamar lost his balance, slipped off the rock and landed in the water with a splash. He yelped, spat water, glared at Raistlin from behind a veil of sodden hair. “You could have warned me, my robes are ruined.”

“Oh dear, then you will have no choice but to take them off.” Raistlin gave him a cool look, raising an eyebrow.

Dalamar grinned, and made short work of his own robes. The heat of the water had drawn a warm rose blush to his skin, and Raistlin sat back, enjoying each new sliver of flesh revealed. Dalamar bundled up his sopping robes, and tossed them back on the shore. “Now.” Dalamar straddled his lap, hands stroking his sides. “How close do you want me?”

Chapter Text

There was someone in the Grove.

Dalamar got up, Nuitari, this had better not be some kind of- crazed mob.

Raistlin glanced up quizzically, “What is it?”

“Nothing.” It was getting late, the moons would be up soon. They don’t have much time to finish preparations. “We should continue.”

The presence itched at the back of his mind, like someone scratching inside his skull. Dalamar tried to push it away, turn back on their books, but it’s hard to focus.

“Do you want me to get rid of them?” Raistlin rubbed the bridge of his nose. “There is power there. I can feel it- like a weight against our spells.”

Dalamar hesitated. There are few who can match them now, and even fewer who are their enemies. Lady Crysania, of course, but the Dead Ones would already be tearing her apart. Justarius, perhaps, but that would be a wonderful surprise. Dalamar would love the excuse to destroy the old monster.

“Stay here.” He said finally. “I will be quick, and we can finish the ritual later.”

Outside, the evening was crawling in on long tendrils of freezing mist. The eyes of the Dead Ones watched Dalamar as he walked through the Grove. He slowed as he approached the gate, picking his steps carefully and holding his robes up to silence his approach.

There was someone outside, a little huddled figure pressed up against the gates. Gods, this is a child.

For a moment, he wondered if the child was dead. They were so still. But as he comes closer, he saw the boy was shivering, then, as he touched the gate to open it, the boy’s head snapped up, wide eyes staring at him.

“You are not meant to be here.” Dalamar said menacingly, although if the boy had managed to get this close to the gate, Dalamar was unlikely to frighten him any further. “Begone, boy.”

“I-” The boy’s voice cracked. He was small, probably no more than eight years old, and his clothes were worn to tatters. “I’m looking for my uncle.”

“You will not find him here-”

“No!” The boy stumbled to his feet. “No he’s here! I know he’s here. Everyone says he’s not but I know-”

The boy looked mad, hair wild and eyes staring but there was- something about him. That power. Dalamar could feel the magic thrumming through him, pulling at Dalamar’s own power.

It’s impossible, it’s so unlikely he would be a fool to even entertain it, but- “Who are you?” Dalamar said softly.

“Palin.” The boy looked at him pleadingly. “Palin Majere. I’m looking for my uncle.”

Dalamar let out a long breath and- Gods, he could see it. There’s something about the mouth, those piercing eyes. “Raistlin Majere.”

The boy flinched. “Yes.” He whispered, as though expect a blow at the name.

Dalamar hesitated. He should send him away- Nuitari, if the boy knows, Dalamar should kill him right now, before he tells anyone else. If the rest of the family is there-

But they were alone. No one but the Dead Ones within, the empty houses around the Tower. The boy looked up at him, pleadingly. Dalamar could feel the power within him, coiled too tight and too big for him to control and oh, that’s why he had come here. Who else would train him, with that power, and that name?

Dalamar feels his lips quirk into a smile, and he holds out a hand to the boy. The boy- Palin’s- face lights up and he takes Dalamar’s hand. “Come in.” Dalamar said finally. “I know your uncle. Come and meet him.”

Chapter Text

“Is this entirely necessary?” Raistlin looked down at the complicated profusion of clothing in distaste. At least it was all in grey and black, but dear magic what was half of this?

“Entirely, shalafi.” Dalamar smoothed the panels of a confection of silk and laces, “Kalaman is very conscious of the latest fashions, and we need to make a good impression.”

“Surely they understand we mages are above such frivolous-“ he waved a hand at the clothing, words failing.

“They are considering letting us build a tower in the city, but need to be assured their traditions will be respected. They will not want a cluster of sparrows in the midst of their tropical flock.”

Raistlin sagged, and Dalamar closed in for the kill. “Besides, the Conclave will also be donning this garb; you will not want to be cast in their shade?” That got him a glower, he smiled. “I am familiar with these garments, I will help you dress.”

“Fine.” Raistlin sat on the edge of the bed, and dragged his robes gracelessly over his head. “Am I permitted to retain my underclothes, or will they be looking under my robes to check?”

“That depends.” Raistlin’s eyes narrowed, “You can retain your underclothes if you wish, shalafi. Or, you could wear this-“ Dalamar put his hand on something that hardly seemed capable of hiding his private parts, “and I will suck you off at some point in the evening. You can choose when.”

Raistlin looked at the clothes again. Weighed the potential embarrassment of wearing this- obscene veiling of lace, against the temptation of having Dalamar doing equally obscene things in front of the dignitaries of Kalaman and the Conclave. Any self-consciousness evaporated in a heartbeat.

Besides, they were- beautiful. And the novelty of being to enjoy such things had not quite worn off yet. “Very well.”

He took his underclothes off and picked up the proffered lace things. They were soft and delicate, deep black and lined in silk, and he couldn’t quite hold back a shiver as he slipped them up his legs, lifting his hips to pull them into place. The brush of the cloth made his cock twitch, it was barely concealed, slivers of gold visible in the holes in the lace. The swell of his cock conspicuous under the cloth.

Dalamar was staring at him too, red to the tips of his pointed ears, breathing ragged. “Unless you would like me to do it now?”

“Patience.” Raistlin smiled. “Now, what goes on next?”

“This.” Dalamar picked out the deep grey silk-and-ribbon tangle Raistlin had been looking at before. “Lift your arms, shalafi.”

The lace wrapped around his chest and waist. Dalamar got on the bed and knelt behind Raistlin, gathering the ribbons and starting to pull. The silk was lined with strips of something hard and rigid, and closed around him, not tight enough to restrict his breathing, but- firmly, like a tight hug, demanding and comforting. Dalamar kissed the gap in the cloth on the top of his backbone. “How does that feel?”

“Good.” His voice was huskier than he intended. He swallowed. “Is this how such a thing is worn?”

“Usually it is laced tighter, but I did not want to risk your chest.” Dalamar’s hands strokes over the liquid-smooth panels of silk; dragged a nail over the cross-crossing of laces holding it closed.

Raistlin took an experimental breath. It felt good, easy, and he had not had a fit this week. Besides, he didn’t want to be shown up by those talentless wretches in Wayreth. “Pull it tighter.”

Dalamar shuddered, a slow shiver of languid delight. “Yes shalafi.” He breathed.

His hands closed on the ribbons, and pulled harder. The silk was pulled closer, tighter. It was- both harder and easier to breath, as if by limiting how his chest could expand, it was also limiting how it could go wrong. Snug and intimate as a hug.

Dalamar traced the laces, kissed the little diamonds of skin left bare beneath. He stroked over Raistlin’s bare shoulders, tracing his exposed collarbones. “Beautiful.” He breathed.

“I hope you have your own outfit I can help you into.” Raistlin’s cock was fully hard now, the red head caught in the tangle of fine lacework. “I cannot let you have all the fun.”

“Yes.” Dalamar’s voice wavered; his eyes were blown, pupils swallowing iris. “Shall I- move onto the next piece?”

“Please do.” Raistlin was wondering if they were ever going to make it out of the Tower at this rate, but hardly cared.

The next part turned out to be garters and stockings, which Raistlin at least recognized. Dalamar sat on the floor and Raistlin was tempted to tell him he did know how to put on stockings, but- even though he was fully clothed, Raistlin could see how hard he was under his robes. He licked his lips, and let his apprentice have his fun.

Which was fortunate, because these weren’t garters and stockings as Raistlin knew them. Dalamar slipped the garter belt around his waist, sitting between his legs to fasten it. It was snug around him, ticklish with more lace.

Then the stockings, more silk, like water being poured up his legs as Dalamar pulled each one up. The fabric clung to his thin legs, softening the stark edges of the bones, turning them delicate instead of scrawny, elegant rather than awkward.

Raistlin waited until Dalamar had finished fastening them to the garter belt, and stood up. He walked over to the mirror, and looked.

Even weeks after breaking the curse, it still took a push of willpower to look at his own reflection, the knotted certainty that he would see a corpse looking back at him would take a long time to shake off. But-

That was him?

The slender young man looking back at him was exquisitely dressed in dark, clinging silk that left very little to the imagination. The cloth made his golden skin glow; turned his white hair brilliant as moonlight. He ran his hands down his sides, pressing down on the silk and boning. It defined the narrow lines of his chest and waist, the stockings made his legs longer. His shoulders and collarbones shone like the most delicate sculpture. He was- beautiful.

Was this how Dalamar saw him? All the time?

Dalamar was still sitting on the floor, licking his lips over and over, breath catching. Raistlin smiled and he flushed and looked away. “Dalamar. Did you make the whole thing up to get me in this outfit?”

“I may have- exaggerated- somewhat.” Dalamar shivered. “The dignitaries of Kalaman do appreciate their fashions to be followed, but I did invent that the Conclave would be wearing it too.”

“Good.” Raistlin walked back to him, Dalamar made his uncertain way to his feet. “I would not want to imagine Par-Salian wearing such things.”

He closed the space between them, and kissed Dalamar so hard and hungry that his knees almost buckled. Raistlin could feel Dalamar’s painfully aroused cock though his robes, and slipped a hand between them and squeezed it. Dalamar shuddered. “That looked painful.” Raistlin breathed, “It will be a very long wait until we return home. You must work on your self-control tonight.”

Dalamar grinned, and kissed him back. “My offer still stands, shalafi, one use of my mouth this evening.”

“I should make you suck me in front of the Conclave.” He took Dalamar’s chin in his hand, ran his thumb over his lips. "I will strip down to just this, and we will give them a show they will never forget.”

“That might give Kalaman the wrong idea.” Dalamar caught his thumb in his mouth, sucked teasingly.

“I prefer to think of it as forewarning them. Now, what comes next?”

Dalamar’s eyes gleamed in anticipation, and pulled out a pair of high black boots, laced to the knee.

Chapter Text

Sand

Raistlin woke some time after midmorning. The sun was high, filtering through the board palms waving overhead. The heat was stifling, and he rolled his shoulders, luxuriating in it. After so long in the always-cold tower, where no amount of fires or thick velvet could ever cut out the cold. This far north, beyond even Karthay, the sun was a blazing white torch, beating down with the heat of an open oven.

Dalamar sighed and rolled over, shifting into the deeper shadows under the ferns, sweat beaded the back of his neck, and he’d loosened his robes so much that Raistlin caught a glimpse of a bronze shoulder as he rolled over. He gave into temptation and pressed a kiss against the bare skin. Dalamar hummed happily, but didn’t wake.

Raistlin got up, leaving his robes in a soft pile beside his lover. His underclothes were barely enough to scrape decency, but it wasn’t as if anyone would see. He considered his boots, but decided to leave them off too, walking down towards the shore.

The beach shone like white gold under the sun, and Raistlin shivered as he stepped out from under the trees, onto the sand. It was almost painfully hot on his bare feet, but even that sent a shiver of pleasure through Raistlin, after the Tower, and those miserable two years before- he didn't think he could ever be too warm.

Still, he was forced to step quickly across the soft white hillocks under he reached the darker line of wet sand. His feet sank down, leaving high-arched footprints. Raistlin looked down, and thought of wading into Crystalmir lake for reeds, leaving tracks into the mud. This was more pleasant.

The sea sighed over his feet, washing away the loose sand. He could feel the sun on his shoulders like a living cloak, the heat almost a weight. He looked out over the blue-green line of the sea, so endless. The wind was cooler from the sea, easy in his lungs. Raistlin closed his eyes and breathed in, even in Palanthas the air was not so clear.

Perhaps he and Dalamar should look at a winter home in Nordmaar, a seaside cottage somewhere far from anywhere, when he could look every day upon this sight. Breathe this air, and save himself the spate of colds and coughs he had every year.

In the distance, Raistlin spotted a distant white triangle. A ship, unusually far north. He shaded his eyes, squinting, a fishing ship. He wondered if someone on there was looking back, spotting this strange figure standing on the beach. If he had a spyglass, they might see more than they expected. Raistlin smiled. A supposedly dead archmage, standing on a beach on an island so far north no one had named it yet. He lifted his hand to wave, and watched until the ship passed away, out of sight

The tide was going out. Raistlin’s feet had been dry for several minutes already, and looking down, he saw an array of beautiful shells and strange of glistening seaweed left behind as the sea retreated, the sand patterned with the swirling marks of the waves. He wondered what it would have been like if he’d been born by the sea. He would have been happier, he thought.

A cluster of rocks was being bared by the waves, encrusted with barnacles and mussels, wreathed in seaweed. Raistlin walked over and climbed up on the boulders, looking down into the tidal pools, the small fish and anemones left behind.

“Raistlin?”

Looking up, he saw Dalamar limping across the sand. He had left his robes off too, and was holding his cloak up over his head as a sunshade. He winced with every step on the burning sand, and huffed in relief when he reached the cooler tidal line. He climbed up beside Raistlin and pulled the cloak around his shoulders. “It hurts to look at you. You’re so bright.” He stroked a hand over Raistlin’s bare back, “It’s like looking at the sun.” There was a world of fondness in his voice.

Raistlin smiled, and bumped his shoulder against Dalamar’s. “I was watching those.” He pointed to a tidal pool, the clusters of green spiny creatures slowly feeling their way around the pool. “Do you know them?”

“Urchins,” Dalamar reached over, and carefully picked one up by its spines. “I saw them in the Southern Courrain sea, but they were black there. They are quite tasty, actually.”

“I found this in the pool. Their shells.” He picked up a shell; it was round, with tiny pin-prick holes in stripes down its sides where the sines had been. It was delicate and lovely. “I thought it could be of use for your spell.”

Dalamar took it carefully. He whispered the words to the spell, and a brilliant glow of light filled the shell. It slanted through the little holes like sunbeams until Dalamar was holding a tiny sun in his hands. Raistlin squinted through the glare, but apart from that and a slight increase in the heat, there was no effect.

But that was not meant for him, or any other living thing. But if it had been last year, the spell would have left Fistandantilus screaming and writhing in agony.

“I know what they say about fighting old wars,” Dalamar murmured. He turned the infused shell between his fingers. “But it makes me feel better.”

“He lived over a thousand years. It would be arrogant for me to say he’s gone, and I was the one who killed him.” Raistlin closed his hand over Dalamar’s, feeling the heat of the star.

Dalamar nodded, and threw the glowing shell into the beach. There was a blinding flare, and a column of brilliant light. Raistlin closed his eyes, the glare printing the image in black and white against his closed eyelids. When he opened them, the sand was fused into glass.

Perhaps we can bring some of the urchins back with us.” Dalamar picked a second shell, “To eat, and- just in case.”

Chapter Text

The day dawned heavy and muggy. The clouds on the horizon promised blessed relief later, but for now they were trapped in the heat like insects in sap. Even in the Tower, there was no escape, the air was heavy enough to drown in, and Dalamar didn’t want to move.

They’d slept in the library, after staying up all night to work. The evening was the only time the temperatures were tolerable, but even that relief was quickly boiling away as the sun came up, slanting through the half drawn curtains.

“I thought I told you to close them.” Raistlin grumbled from a pile of pillows, white hair mussed, one arm thrown over his face to shield his eyes.

“I did.” Dalamar got up and pulled the curtains to, “The breeze must have pulled them open.”

“What breeze?” Raistlin buried himself further in.

There was still a blade of morning light, playing over his shoulder. Dalamar sat behind him, and followed its path with his finger. Raistlin hummed, bad mood soothed a little. “There will be a storm tonight.”

“Good. I should command you to summon one.”

“And leave you miserable and griping here alone? Hardly.” The skin under his fingers was faintly bronzed from the previous day Raistlin had spent in the Tower garden. Dalamar bent down and licked it, he tasted of petals and salt and a faint honey sweetness Dalamar could not place.

“Then you can lick me all over, wash me against the heat.”

“Like a mother cat with a kitten.” Dalamar gently bit the curve of his shoulder. Raistlin shivered. The faint redness of the bite mark highlighted small marks on his skin. “You have freckles here.”

“I have not.”

“And here.” Now that he knew what to look for, they were easy to see, little spots of slightly darker gold, like a fall of precious coins. “Here too.” He ran a finger up the back of Raistlin’s neck. “Turn around; I want to see if you have any on your face.”

“Certainly not.” Raistlin buried his face in the blankets to prevent any such thing. “Being rid of the wretched things was the only benefit of my Test.”

“I am sorry to disappoint you, but I can see them quite clearly.” He wasn’t sorry, not at all. They were wonderful. Like little spirals of stars under his skin. “No doubt they came out after you spent yesterday in the garden.”

“Abyss.” Raistlin rolled over and- yes, they were there too. Dalamar could see them in the bar of sunlight, a band across his nose, faintly speckling his cheeks. “Never mention them again.”

“Of course not.” Dalamar leaned in to trace them with his lips, his tongue flicking out to taste.

“You will never let this go, will you?” He felt the frustrated smile pulling at Raistlin’s lips.

“That would be beyond me, it is unfair to ask.” He dropped down, and found his mouth for a soft, tender kiss. Then starts kissing his way down Raistlin’s chest and stomach.

“There too?” Raistlin caught his breath, eyes a little too bright as he felt Dalamar’s breath against his groin.

“I cannot tell, I will need to examine more closely,” He pressed a kiss to the tip of his cock, enjoying the low hiss of pleasure, “I think yes, here.” Raistlin whined at the hot breath against his cock, and choked off a cry, digging his fingers into Dalamar’s hair as he ducked his head down and swallowed Raistlin easily.

Dalamar took his time, suckling gently, licking Raistlin from root to tip and leaving him shuddering, thighs wrapped over his shoulders. He drew back, and blew against his cock. Raistlin was half laughing, rocking his hips up in desperation for more contact.

“You have freckles here too.” Dalamar touched the faint speckles down the inside of his thighs. “How long have you been hiding them from me?”

“Bastard.” Raistlin gritted out, bucking his hips. “Finish me off or I will burn some into your skin, you-“

Ever the obedient apprentice, Dalamar did as he was told. Raistlin yanked at his hair, shuddered, and came with a cry down his throat.

Dalamar sat back and wiped his lips smugly, watching Raistlin shivering and gulping in air, eyes too-bright, body lax and senseless.

“I can see them even better now.” Dalamar traced them out across Raistlin’s flushed chest. “How wonderful, I could count them on nights when I cannot sleep.”

Raistlin tried to hit him over the head with a pillow, but he was too satiated and slow, and Dalamar ducked. He caught Raistlin’s hands and pinned them, straddling him.

“Bastard.” Raistlin couldn’t quite hide his smile.

“Absolutely.” Dalamar leaned down, and started to play join the dots with his tongue.

Chapter Text

Raistlin smiled as he walked into the study. “Put away your books, apprentice, I will need you in the garden.”

Dalamar perked up. He had the windows open, their plants on the sill to take in the early spring sunlight. “We have more plants to work with.”

“We do.” Raistlin tried not to look too smug, “And they are a little surprise for you, come now.”

Dalamar blinked, but Raistlin waved away any questions, magicking himself outside to the garden. A moment later, Dalamar stepped out beside him; he stopped still, eyes going wide. “Oh. Shalafi, how in the world did you get them?”

“The Conclave is helping to heal the remains of the Nightmare, the least the Silvanesti can do is give us a few garden cuttings.” He stroked Dalamar’s arm. “Do they please you?”

Dalamar didn’t speak, he knelt down and picked up a small twist of thorns, a single rosebud half unfurled. He breathed in the scent. “They do.” He gave Raistlin a helpless smile, face broken open and so vulnerable. “Thank you, my shalafi.”

“Of course.” Raistlin bent down, and kissed the top of his head, “It should do for the time being, until we can get them to rescind your Exile.”

Dalamar shivered, “I- hope you can.” He managed, “I would love for you to see my home as it truly is. It is so beautiful, my love.”

That got him another kiss, soft and sweet as the rose. When Raistlin broke the kiss, Dalamar was smiling, he stroked Raistlin’s hair. “Shall we settle these into their new home?”

“We should.” Raistlin indicated a corner of the garden; close against the Tower walls. “This should be a good place; they will get much of the afternoon sunlight. I will follow your direction as to the soil quality.”

“It should not be too unlike.” Dalamar walked around the space, rubbing the soil between his fingers, “A little more acidic than they might be used to, it could use some wood ash.”

Raistlin nodded, and they got to work. He gathered the remains of last night’s fire from the study, and crumbled the ashes around the new plantbeds. Dalamar was working steadily, digging the freshly turned soil, and planting the newcomers. Sylvan roses, green feathergrass, even two skinny aspen saplings that had Dalamar stopping to catch his breath, stroking the white bark lovingly. He planted them together, side by side. “In a few months, it would be a good place to lie and read in the sun.”

Raistlin could have said something about the stories involving elves and trees, but bit it back. He didn’t want to ruin this moment. Dalamar saw his expression and guessed anyway, pulling a face. “Don’t.”

“I fear I might have brought rivals into my own home.” Raistlin walked over, looking up at the yellow leaves. “Will you be sleeping here every night, banishing me to a lonely bed?”

“Do shut up.” Dalamar kissed him firmly. “If I sleep here, it will be with you. We could plant a vallenwood here too, if you’d prefer it.”

“I would, if the roots wouldn’t tear out the Tower's foundations.” Raistlin kissed him back. “I will finish here, you get the water.”

Dalamar nodded, disappearing inside. Raistlin turned back to the last few plants, getting to work. These were those he was not familiar with, a little bush with leaves like golden needles. A slightly larger one that seemed related to mint, with clusters of buds, not quite open yet. And a tangle of strands and branches that seemed to be some kind of creeper. Raistlin found a small trellis and set it up against the side of the Tower for the plant to climb on.

Dalamar came back with two watering jugs, taking one and going around, pouring water into the newly settled plants. Raistlin took the other, and dampened the ground around the creeper. “Do you know this one?”

“They might have been going for a pun with that one; it’s Dance of Matheri- Majere.” Dalamar smiled, “It’s mainly decorative, but the flowers can be eaten."

“Hmm,” Raistlin turned to the gold needle bush. “This one?”

“You might want to put that one in a pot. Sandspike grows fast, it’s a bit of a nuisance. But it it good for components. We can use- the roots and leaves both, I think. Spells of strength and growth- maybe speed? It's very versatile, House Mystic has a lot of them.”

“And this one?” Raistlin nodded at the last.

Dalamar frowned, “Some kind of mint?”

“You don’t know it?”

“I’m not sure.” Dalamar walked forward, looking down at the plant. “No, I haven’t seen it before.” He watered the ground around it, then paused, breathing in deeply. “It smells lovely though.”

Raistlin leaned in, inhaled. He caught a faint hint of mint, but nothing else. “I’m sure we’ll find a use for it. Now, I think we are about done?”

Dalamar nodded, his watering jug was empty, the plants already drooping less, leaves  lifting towards the sun. “We should probably leave them for a few days,” He said regretfully, “And give them time to settle in. The garden will be beautiful though.” He gave Raistlin that same open, loving smile.

Gods, Raistlin loved him. He walked over, and indulged in another kiss. “I want to see you smiling like that every day.”

“Hmm.” Dalamar pressed up against him, “You’re becoming very good at bringing them out in me. I should find some way of rewarding you, my shalafi.”

“A reward, you say?” Raistlin carding his fingers through Dalamar’s hair. “I do like the sound of that; do you have something in mind, my apprentice?”

“I may.” Another kiss. “Something to tide us over until the trees are grown enough that I can fuck you under their boughs..”

It was a few days later that Raistlin woke alone in bed. It was not the first time this had happened; since they had started sharing a bed, Dalamar had developed the uncanny ability to wake just before Raistlin did, and use the time to prepare for the day. Raistlin opened his eyes hopefully, with luck, Dalamar would still be washing at the basin, or would not be finished dressing. He longed for the sight of warm bronzed skin, delicate limbs and Dalamar's beautiful smile-

Ah, but he’d been too late. The room was empty. Dalamar’s robes were gone, and when Raistlin got up, he found the water in the basin still warm. Raistlin sighed, no doubt his lover was waiting in the kitchen to ambush him with breakfast, there would be no escape today.

But when he came into the kitchen, it was empty too. And unlike the bedroom, there was no sign Dalamar had been there this morning. The fire was cold, the kettle empty. Raistlin frowned and filled it, summoning a fire to warm the water for tea.

Perhaps his apprentice had decided to go to the study instead, and lost track of time? It was possible, but Dalamar never missed a chance to get him to eat. Raistlin prepared two mugs of tea, and then went to join Dalamar in the study.

He wasn’t there either. Raistlin put the mugs on the table and gave up trying to have a normal morning. Where was Dalamar?

He was not in the library, or the laboratory. Dalamar wasn’t inclined to venture into the less used corners of the Tower- had he gone into Palanthas for some reason? Had there been an emergency from the Conclave? But surely he would have left Raistlin a note, at least.

Raistlin waved a hand, summoning one of the Dead Ones. “Had my apprentice left the Tower?”

No. But he went out into the garden just after dawn.

Raistlin frowned, stepping through the magic into the garden. Had Dalamar had an accident? Had he fallen and struck his head, and was unable to get help?

Raistlin’s caught his breath, trying to clamp down on the rising fear, and hurried into the garden.

He saw Dalamar almost at once and- Oh Nuitari, he had fallen and hurt himself. He was lying on the ground beside the strange mint plant, body limp, eyes closed.

Raistlin ran over, falling to his knees beside him. “Dalamar? Apprentice, can you hear me?”

Dalamar shifted, letting out a soft breath. Thank the Gods, he was alive. Raistlin couldn’t see any injuries on him, but his robes and skin were smudged with earth and leaves. He turned his face towards the mint, breathing deeply, a broad smile spreading across his face.

The flowers were in full bloom now, and Raistlin could smell it too- rather like mint, but deeper, more earthy. “Dalamar?” Raistlin touched his cheek.

Dalamar opened his eyes, and his pupils were completely blown. His grey irises no more than a thin silver rim. He blinked, and gave another dizzy smile. “Shalafi,” he slurred, “My shalafi. My pretty, lovely shalafi.”

Raistlin stared. “Are you drunk?”

“Nah.” Dalamar rubbed his face against Raistlin’s robes. “So good. Smells so good. You smell it, my shalafi. Feels so good-“ he waved a hand at the plant, running his fingers through the leaves.

Raistlin stared between Dalamar and the plant, then shook himself. “Can you get up?”

“Hmm?” Dalamar looking up at him through half-open eyes. “Don’t wanna. Come here, my shalafi. So beautiful. Want you here-“ he grabbed Raistlin with both hands, and pulled him down with surprising force.

Raistlin lost his balance and toppled over, Dalamar hummed happily, pressing messy kisses against his hair and cheek. “Love you.” He said happily. “Love you so much.”

Dalamar was wrapping around him like an affectionate snake, kissing and sucking at his neck. Then his apprentice reached for his robes- or at least tried to. He was so dazed he couldn’t even managed the buttons. Dalamar pouted in frustration, nibbling at Raistlin’s jaw.

Right, that was enough. Raistlin sat up, pulling Dalamar into his lap. Dalamar hummed again, mouthing over Raistlin’s chest. “Love you.”

“I love you too, my absurd apprentice.” Raistlin sighed, and magicked them up to the study.

Dalamar came back to himself in pieces. His head was foggy, his body lax and heavy. He opened his eyes and the world swam around him, his mouth was painfully dry. “Shalafi-“

“Shh, here.” The cold rim of a glass was pressed against his lips, and Dalamar drank greedily, “Are you back with me?”

“I think so?” Dalamar tried to sit up. The world span slowly around him. He was lying in a pile of blankets and cushions in the Tower study. “Have I been sick?”

“Not quite.” Raistlin smiled, pulling a book from the bookshelf. “How much do you remember?”

Dalamar blinked, blinked again, the world started to settle around him. Through the window, he could see the sun was high. “I- went out to the garden while you were sleeping. I wanted to make sure the plants were doing well, and-“ He frowned. The world went oddly- blank, after that.

“Here.” Raistlin handed him the book, a small still pulling at the corner of his mouth. “I think I found what our mystery mint is.”

Raistlin looked down, rubbing his eyes to keep the words from dancing off the page.

Elves Delight

A derivative of the mint plant, notable for its purple flowers, and intoxicating effect on elves. The scent of the flowers and to a lesser extent, the leaves, has a powerful inebriating effect on those with elven blood. Those under the influence are disoriented and unable to walk, talking as if drunk, but are generally very friendly and affectionate-

Dalamar couldn’t read any more. He closed the book and groaned. Raistlin laughed, and gave him another glass of water. “How are you feeling?”

“Still dizzy.” Dalamar sighed, rubbed his face. “Was I truly absurd?”

“You were very sweet.” Raistlin sat beside him, pulling Dalamar down until his head rested in his lap. “Very determined to make love to me, and very annoyed when you couldn’t undo my robes.”

Dalamar groaned again.

“I’m surprised you didn’t recognise it, I’d assume every elven home would have at least one plant.” Raistlin stroked his hair.

“Perhaps in the other Houses, but not mine.” Dalamar sighed. “We wouldn’t have been much use rolling around giggling like idiots. It would be hard to get much work out of us like that.”

“Well, we now have one of our own.” Raistlin kissed him. “I would be interested in exploring these- unique effects with you, but ideally in smaller amounts. It was difficult to study with you trying to climb under my robes to suck me off.”

Dalamar snorted. “As if you’d complain.”

“True.” Another kiss. “You were quite a tease; so very determined, but unable to actually get my cock out of my underwear.”

Dalamar turned, nuzzling Raistlin’s groin and- yes, he was still half-hard. Dalamar pressed a kiss to it, and felt it stiffen, Raistlin’s breath stuttered. “However should I remedy that failure?” Dalamar murmured, letting the words reverberate against Raistlin’s cock. Oh yes, it was fully attentive now.

“I have a few ideas.” Raistlin breathed, opening his robes and pushed Dalamar’s head down. “Eyes on your work, apprentice.”

Chapter Text

“Shalafi!”

Raistlin realised his mistake a little too late. He was tired, drained from a long day of spellcasting. They’d worked through lunch, and he was feeling light-headed and shaking-

And his foot slipped on the stairs.

Oh Abyss. He heard Dalamar cry of horror somewhere above him, and gripped his staff, opening his mouth to cast-

And he hit the side of a landing, hard. Pain exploded through his hip and he screamed in pain, the spell lost-

“Pfeatherfall!” Oh thank you. Thank Nuitari for his apprentice. Raistlin curled up in mid air as his fall slowed, the damage had been done. His hip was an exploding mass of pain, pulsing hot and desperate through his whole body. This was bad, this was very bad-

“I have you.” Dalamar’s voice came from beside him, gently pulling him out of the air. Raistlin straightened, tried to stand-

And collapsed. He folded up on the ground, choking with agony. He tried to push himself up on the staff- but that only brought new pain. Oh please, please Nuitari let it not be broken-

“Shalafi-“ Dalamar started, then clearly decided against saying more, and gathered Raistlin in his arms. “Your chambers?”

“Yes.” Raistlin hissed through gritted teeth. “I need- bed. Quickly.”

Dalamar spoke a word in the magic, and pulled them quickly through the magic, to his room.

“It’s not broken.” Dalamar announced, fingers resting very lightly on his side. “It may be sprained, and I can already see the bruises coming up, but the bone is whole.”

“Thank Nuitari for small favours.” Raistlin managed. He was sitting up on the bed propped by a small mountain of pillows. Dalamar had not skimped on his care; there were at least six behind him, and another two cradling his hips, keeping him stable. He chewed on the piece of willow bark, and felt the worst of the pain eased. “I suppose I will not be walking for a while.”

“I’d give it at least three days, shalafi.” He said apologetically, “I am sorry for not being faster in casting-“

“None of that.” Raistlin waved him off. “It was my own inattention. The only thing I want you to take away from this mess is to avoid doing anything like that yourself.”

“Yes, shalafi.” Dalamar sighed. “Shall I bring you a book while I fetch dinner?”

“Please.” Raistlin nodded. “Keep it light, apprentice. I hate a heavy meal if I am stuck in bed.” Too many bad memories of being sick at school, a bowl of reeking cabbage soup at his bedside, making his stomach turn.

“Bread and fruit, and a little cheese.” Dalamar stood firm, handing him a book. “You need your strength to recover, shalafi.”

Raistlin sighed as Dalamar vanished through the magic. He’d hoped he’d left such frailties behind with Fistandantilus, but at least this was a simple accident rather than his old troubles acting up. Anyone could fall down and hurt themselves. It was no personal failing, other than clumsiness.

He opened the book. Ah yes, that tome of divination he had been reading. He found his bookmark, and tried to focus his mind away from the ache in his side, and into the magic.

Dalamar appeared a few moments later, with a tray for both of them. Raistlin smiled and put the book aside. Dalamar pulled a chair beside the bed, and set the tray on Raistlin’s good side. “How are you feeling, shalafi?”

“It barely being an hour since my fall, it is hardly improved.” Raistlin winced internally at the sharpness in his tone, and held up a hand as Dalamar made to apologise. “No, ignore me, apprentice. I am a wretched patient, and always in a foul mood when I have to curtain my studies.”

“Perhaps we can move some parts of in here?” Dalamar offered. “I can do the practical work, and you can guide me. It will not be the same, of course-“

“But better than nothing. Yes, that would be appreciated. I will attempt to curb my tongue for your sake, but I will ask you to forgive my impatience.”

“That will not be a problem.” Dalamar smiled, eating his own lunch. Raistlin sighed, and got started on his. It was very good.

“The word is shervosa, apprentice.” Raistlin sat up, working the heating pan closer under his hip and easing the worst of the ache. “And the motions are more fluid, like so.” He demonstrated.

Dalamar nodded, attempting the spell again. This time, the magic flowed easily from his hands, shaping into the seeing mirror before him. “Excellent.” Raistlin approved, “Now, attempt to turn it to Palanthas, to the marketplace.”

“Yes, shalafi.” Dalamar breathed, lost in the magic.

It was a lot less frustrating to be sick like this, he had to admit. Dalamar seemed to understand exactly when Raistlin wanted to be left alone, and when he needed help. And that done quickly and efficiently, there and gone before Raistlin started feeling suffocated.

The magic danced, shimmered, and the seeing mirror changed. They looked down upon Palanthas, the bustle and hurry of the marketplace. “Very good.” Raistlin leaned back, biting back a wince of pain as his hip twinged. “Finish the spell, apprentice.”

Dalamar inclined his head, and gathered up the magic, holding it in a glowing ball in his hands- before letting it slip away. “Good.” Raistlin closed his eyes. It was something else he hated about being stuck in bed. He always felt so damned tired all the time.

“Tea, shalafi?”

“Please.” He snuggled down in the blankets. The heating pan radiated warmth into his side, and the pain eased. It had been hard to sleep last night, jerking awake every time he turned over from the pain. It wouldn’t hurt to rest his eyes-

He blinked awake some unknown time later. Dalamar was sitting at his bedside, a book open in his lap. Outside, the sun was setting. “You let me sleep?” He mumbled.

“I think you needed it.” Dalamar smiled and closed the book, pouring Raistlin a mug of tea. “I charmed it to keep it hot.”

“Something of a waste of magic.” Raistlin took it anyway. It was hot and sweet.

“I enjoy the practise; I would not have you served cold tea.”

Even without the starjewel, Raistlin thought he would know. There was a world of love in his apprentice’s eyes. It warmed him as much as the tea; or the heating pan. He closed his eyes again, curling up in the bed, letting himself bask in the emotion. He could feel the first sparks of it within himself too, sweet and tender and- very new. And would that be so terrible? Maybe it was the comfort, and weariness, but Raistlin had no interesting in fighting the emotion. “Would you read to me?”

“Ah,” Dalamar flushed a little, “I am sorry to disappoint you, shalafi, but this is not a book of magic.”

“Really?” Raistlin lifted his head, trying to read the binding. “A Romance: The Orphan of the Vingaard River.”

Dalamar was very red now. “A very- absurd novel, shalafi, but I cannot seem to put it down. The heroine has foolishly married a man who does not love her, and who keeps her as a mistress and now she is expecting a child and- oh, it is stupid. I am sorry.”

“Given our studies have to be limited to some extent, I will not begrudge you it.” He smiled. “If it is that foolish, then it may help me get back to sleep. Start from the beginning.”

“Yes shalafi.” Dalamar was still blushing, but seemed very pleased. He turned to the front page, and began. Raistlin curled up in bed, closing his eyes again to better enjoy the sound of his apprentice’s voice washing over him. The spark rose a little more, burning a little brighter. He smiled.

Dalamar’s voice was hoarse when he stopped, some unknown time later. Raistlin opened his eyes irritably. “Just a little longer, apprentice. Does she turn down this unwelcome suitor?”

“I’m afraid I do need to stop.” Dalamar smiled. “It is late, and I will not be able to cast tomorrow if I carry on. But I can leave the book with you, if you would like to finish it?”

“I would prefer to hear it from you.” Raistlin sighed, and rolled over.

Dalamar took the heating pan out, now cold, and changed the coals before putting it back. Raistlin sighed happily as the heat settled in his bones. Dalamar hesitated; he was tired, but clearly didn’t want to leave. “You can go.” Raistlin said gently. “Get some sleep, and you can read to me again tomorrow.”

“I will.” His voice was soft, so tender. Oh, how this one loved him. It was breathtaking, as deep and eternal as the sea. “Shalafi, could I ask for a favour?”

At that moment, Raistlin couldn’t think of a single thing he would not do for him. “Ask it.” He yawned.

“May I set up railings along the stairs?”