Archive of Our Own ^beta

Velvet and satin and puppets on strings
Everyone's dancing with Lady Marlene
Fear is the colour of all that they wear
Mother-of-pearl palace cold like her heart of stone

“Fancy seeing you here.”

Edgin observed shrewdly as Xenk froze mid-motion when his own pale hand wrapped around the paladin’s toned lower arm. Clearly, the Triadic Knight was disquiet in these circumstances; and rightfully so. (He was unfairly gorgeous, too, in his bordering-on-casual finery; but then, he always was. Ridiculous paladin. Stupid man.)

Xenk took a deep breath, as though to steel himself, and sought Edgin’s too-blue gaze with ruthless immediacy. He was one of few enough people who ever did so, and only the third one Edgin had met in the Prime who had braved direct eye contact upon their first encounter. (Edgin had married the first one, and considered the second one his sister in every way that mattered. Yeah, apparently he had a type when it came to the family he collected for himself, so what?)

“Is that not a phrase typically reserved for chance meetings? I believe I have heard it before.”

“Sure is,” Edgin confirmed faux-cheerfully, and gently began to steer Xenk away from the narrow glade he had found him in — well, if the little alcove formed by thick tree trunks could be considered a glade. The forest was thick and dense here, grown in slender paths and winding bridges. Lady Marlene’s realm was obscured beneath the canopy of the woods she commanded and called her own, the forest ground soft under their feet. Edgin, who had avoided these fields for a good long while and even better reason, bathed in the familiarity of the scents whirling and swirling around him even as he abhorred being here. Damn it, he had always been an olfactoric creature. (He happily ignored the way Xenk’s very own scent bled into the entire sylvan arrangement, and how he would love to press the paladin up against the nearest surface, and bury his nose against that enticing line of collar bone painted sharply against silken fabric, and just breathe Xenk in. Edgin fucking excelled at ignoring any such desires, after several moons of useless pining and despondent yearning and undignified moping.)

Xenk’s dark forehead furrowed in open incomprehension. The expression, though almost violently out of place against his smooth skin, was familiar and often revisited in Edgin’s presence. It was exasperating. (It was endearing, that’s what it was. Edgin steadfastly refused to admit to such sentiment.)

“But — did I not ask you to meet me here?”

“Believe me, honey,” Edgin snorted unkindly and greedily took note of the well-known tension against his friend’s jaw upon the unreservedly shared endearment he tended to bestow upon anyone he grew reasonably fond of (whether they liked it or not), “I wouldn’t be here if you hadn’t asked me to come.”

“But where is the chance aspect to our meeting?” Xenk demanded confoundedly.

Edgin, who had finally managed to steer the paladin towards one of the pathways he knew led towards the cliffs at the edge of Lady Marlene’s ballroom, rolled his eyes. “It’s an expression, Xenk. Don’t overthink it.”

Xenk raised a perfectly sculpted brow. “That, I have been advised repeatedly over my many years of existence by a variety of people. Yet I fail to grasp how any such concept as ‘overthinking’ a matter might even make sense. Philosophically speaking-”

Edgin raised a mirrored brow in response, in retaliation, and cut his friend off: “See, there, that’s part of the problem. ‘Philosophically speaking’ — philosophy encourages you to ruminate any subject ad nauseam, but some things are better accepted at face value. Trust me. You’re not doing anyone a favour if you lie awake for nights on end, trying to figure out how much of a chance any encounter can actually be, and what someone might’ve meant to imply when they insinuate an agreed-upon meeting was in fact coincidence after all.” Not that this particular meeting had, strictly speaking, been agreed upon.

(Nor should Edgin be calling out anyone about overthinking matters, especially when it came to a certain paladin, but that was neither here nor there, was it? Perhaps long lives simply leant themselves to overintellectualisation.)

Xenk blinked, and permitted Edgin to manhandle him into a properly secluded bay; not just a nook between the unnaturally densely grown trees but a little gallery off towards the sought-for cliffs that offered some true privacy. (If there was anything such as privacy to be had in Lady Marlene’s court, but, well. Edgin, for all that he had come of his own free will, most certainly was not here by choice.) Edgin took great pains to ensure he made no further direct eye contact with the paladin.

“What did you mean to imply, then?”

Arggh. “Nothing, Xenk. That’s the thing. It’s just an expression.”

Talking to Xenk frequently tended to drive Edgin to desperation, and he enjoyed every damn moment of it. (Really, if it were up to him, he would spend his every free minute talking to Xenk and being driven to desperation, and if that was not a most alarming development he did not know what was.)

In the dim half-light of dusk, Xenk blinked slowly, aggressively. “I fail to understand.”

“Understand what?”

A frustrated noise dropped from the paladin’s lips, an entirely new one, and Edgin filed it away into his mental library of little-sounds-Xenk-made, which was totally not creepy at all, no Sir. Instantly, the ever under-occupied recesses of his mind began to shape and fashion plans how he might provoke hearing it again. At the end of the day (ha!), he was a little shit, and he stood by it.

“The reason behind your earlier argument.”

“Xenk, honey,” Edgin sighed, “I’d gladly explain myself but I doubt you’d get much out of it.”

“Humour me, please.”

“Humour, you? When you’ve got such a stick up your-”

“Edgin.” Mild reprimand, though dark eyes still sparkled with a hue of amusement it had taken Edgin half a fucking year to recognise.

“Sorry,” Edgin rolled his own eyes in a semi-heartfelt attempt to cover his genuine contriteness. Xenk, he had a feeling, knew either way. “Right. Just — I didn’t mean to imply anything, Xenk. It’s just a phrase, and I tried to make a joke that — clearly — didn’t land.”

“Clearly,” Xenk parroted him wryly, though some of the tension had bled from his shoulders. The paladin heaved a heavy sigh, his entire broad ribcage rising and falling with the motion, and Edgin absolutely was not observing hungrily how silken fabric stretched across taut muscle, nope, he was not. (He was not!) “I — must thank you for coming, then. I much appreciate your support in this endeavour.”

Edgin could not quite swallow down the grimace tugging at his mouth. “Yeah, well. Couldn’t really let you rush head-first into the lion’s den all by yourself, could I?”

Xenk’s smooth forehead furrowed all over again. “Lions? This is a woodland environment, I would be astounded to see a lion in these climates.”

Edgin valiantly resisted the temptation to smash his (handsome, very handsome, thank you!) face into the closest tree trunk. “It’s another idiom, honey. To walk into the lion’s den means to deliberately place yourself in a dangerous or difficult situation.”

“Ah.” The paladin’s face remained calm and blank, but after many moons of ‘accidentally’ running into each other, Edgin had learned to read awkward discomfiture in Xenk’s averted gaze and the faint hue against smooth (so smooth), dark skin. “…do you consider this venture dangerous, then? Or merely difficult?”

Bright eyes trailing across the floating fairy lights illuminating the dance floor of Lady Marlene’s ballroom in their back and the vibrant, colourful hues of dusk against the cliffs, Edgin grinned sharply. “You tell me, honey. Are you in danger here?”

Xenk’s sculpted eyebrow twitched skyward once more. He opened his mouth to retort, but something about Edgin’s grin (precarious and perilous, potentially; all teeth, most certainly) prompted him to settle more deeply into his frame and close his dark, warm eyes instead. His expression softened as he sank into his more esoteric senses and truly felt the world around him. Edgin observed avariciously, and heroically did not acknowledge how the paladin’s implicit trust made his heart stumble violently. (How the blank serenity cast into chiselled features reminded him of seeing his friend asleep when they shared a camp, all peaceful and vulnerable.) He ignored, too, what Xenk extending figurative feelers felt like, how the very essence of what made the man a paladin hummed and thrummed against Egin’s skin before sloshing out to taste and test the wide glade beyond. He would find no danger there, of course, not to his Triadic perception, but that — did not mean there actually was no danger.

When Xenk finally opened his eyes again, Edgin had taken several steps towards the precipice and was peering into the abyss below. It made little sense for there to be such cliffs in this corner of the Lurkwood; but then, few enough things made sense here.

“I can only assume that you meant difficulty rather than acute peril,” Xenk concluded thoughtfully, and stepped closer to stand beside Edgin. (Edgin very much did not suppress a shiver at the sudden proximity, nope. No shivers here, or anywhere else.) “And I could hardly fault you for attributing adversity to my navigating an event such as this one, after all I explicitly requested your aid in meeting Lady Iris’ invitation.”

Lady Iris, Xenk’s letter had laid out, had just so happened to be beset by an aboleth during a boating outing off the Sword Coast near Neverwinter. Now, going on a boating outing, alone, in those waters and given the current state of the coast was a choice in and by itself, but Edgin would have expected no less form Lady Iris. She was one of Lady Marlene’s favourites, had been all but raised by the Lady herself, and as such her outlook on life and adventure alike could be considered, uh, though-provoking. (Edgin, who had had the dubious honour of Lady Marlene’s attentions for several seasons as well, knew what he was talking about. After all, his outlook on life and adventure was somewhat questionable, too.) Either way, Xenk had — apparently, according to his missive — joined an excursion to deliver some sort of terribly holy artefact to Gundarlun when a cleric of Tyr had requested his assistance, and been just in the right place at just the right time to save Lady Iris’ petite, bedraggled posterior from the aboleth. Lady Iris had, in turn, invited Xenk to her coming-of-age celebrations in an attempt to express her gratitude and Xenk had in (not entirely unwarranted) panic asked Edgin, of all people, to accompany him.

There was no fucking way Xenk knew. Edgin had left Lady Marlene’s court behind more than three decades ago, Xenk must have requested his presence for reasons that had nothing to do with Edgin’s own connections to the Lady. Indeed, the question of why Xenk would have asked for Edgin of all people remained, and had definitely not kept him awake for many a night on the road North from Neverwinter.

“…Why, exactly, did you accept that invitation again if you’re so uncomfortable with events like these? I don’t believe you’ve made your motivations clear enough.”

Xenk had, in fact, made his motivations explicitly and emphatically clear. Apparently, big doe eyes and some liberally applied tears were all it took to successfully guilt-trip one Xenk Yendar into compliance, at least if his stilted, stiffly-worded letter was anything to go by. The paladin had complained extensively about how he could not bear disappointing Lady Iris, and would Edgin please come save him from peculiar aristocrats and their even more peculiar customs? (Edgin had most certainly taken note of such lovely manipulation tactics. He had a daughter, after all, a daughter with wide doe eyes who had learned how to cry on command around her seventh summer. It always paid to keep an ace in the whole, no matter how deeply and wholly — ugh — he had come to trust Xenk. Deeply and wholly enough to meet him here, of all places; there was no doubt Edgin’s best kept secret would be laid bare before the hour was out.)

“Sarcasm does not suit you, my friend.”

Had Xenk’s lovely, smooth voice not carried such a wry note, Edgin might not have recognised the biting irony for what it was.

“I’m so proud of you,” he grinned gallingly at the paladin, gaze directed at Xenk’s left nasal wing, and reached out to pinch a dark, bearded cheek between pale fingers. “Look at you, all grown up-”

“Edgin,” Xenk reprimanded with a single word once more and, really, Edgin would enjoy teasing him only half as much if the paladin’s responses did not trickle heavy, erotic shivers down his spine. Yeah, no, he was not trying to provoke Xenk into pressing him against the closest tree and shutting him up properly, punishing him as deserved, but damn — if he did not occasionally (all the fucking time-) imagine such a glorious, fanciful thing.

He sighed, and turned back towards the abyss. “Alright, honey, I’ll behave.” Probably. “What did you need my help with?”

At his side, Xenk tensed, discomfited. “Ah. Uhm, everything?”

Edgin did not sigh again. He did not. “I’m afraid you’re gonna have to give me a tad more than that, Xenk. You already made it here, you’re wearing clothes perfectly appropriate for Lady Iris’ party, you mentioned you got her a present. What did you need my help with?”

He did not share Xenk’s supernatural hearing, but even Edgin could not miss the way Xenk’s teeth ground together. “In truth, my… concerns are twofold.”

“Great! Lay it all out, then.”

“…lay what out?”

“Explain, please. Honey. You’re not doing that on purpose, are you?”

“Wish that I were,” the paladin muttered so quietly (forlornly) it had clearly not been meant for anyone’s ears. Edgin’s hand shot out quite without his consent, to wrap comfortingly around his friend’s forearm. Ropes of thick and wiry muscle shifted under his palm before Xenk accepted the offer of comfort and understanding both, leaning into the point of contact as the tension bled from his wide, dependable frame.

“For one, Lady Marlene has quite the, uh, reputation. When I enquired after her in the Hall of Justice, clerics of the True God told me very plainly that to invite her displeasure was to invite bad fortune; though they provided no further explanation. She must be rather powerful.”

“She is,” Edgin confirmed thoughtlessly.

The intensity of Xenk’s gaze might as well have burned a mark into his skin, though he refused to redirect his gaze from the abyss below. Not here, not now.

“You know of her, then?”

“I do.”

“And of her true power?”

At that, Edgin did try to swallow down the sarcastic laugh bubbling up, he really did. (Promise!) “Honey, I don’t think there’s anyone who knows her true power.”

“That seems — unlikely.”

“Nobody’s forcing you to believe me,” Edgin shrugged carelessly, and no, he was not sulking, absolutely not. (No, Xenk not believing him when he had asked for Edgin’s support specifically did not sting, absolutely not.) “So you’ve called me here for no deeper political reason, but to keep you from making an arse of yourself.”

Xenk shifted in open discomfort, and Edgin’s hand fell away from where it had still rested warmly against the paladin’s arm. “I… had not considered my request for your presence from that angle. You do make it sound rather petty and unjustified. Please, accept my apologies-”

“Don’t,” Edgin muttered sullenly, “let’s not pretend I wouldn’t have come, anyway. Right, you mentioned two issues. What’s the other one?”

Xenk, who had relaxed somewhat at Edgin’s words, abruptly tensed again. “Ah. You… I fear you will find my second concern even more paltry justification of seeking your aid.”

Bloody lovely.

“Just spit it out, please. Unless you want us to spend the entirety of Lady Iris’ not-so-little party stuck out here. Which, just to put it out there, would be perfectly fine with me; but you might be disappointing a — quote — ‘delightful young woman with very big brown eyes’ if it comes to that.” Yeah, Edgin most definitely was not jealous of the birthday girl, not even a little. (Because that would be rather pathetic, right? And Edgin might have been a professional liar and storyteller, and a little shit, and pretty much what amounted to a lost cause at the end of the day, but he was not pathetic. Right. Right?)

Xenk hung his beautiful, sculpted head. “That ‘delightful young woman with very big brown eyes’ is precisely the issue, Edgin. I fear she might, uh. She might look for something I would not wish to provide.”

(Yeah, alright, Edgin was genuinely relieved to hear that. Sue him!)

“So you, what, asked me here to protect you from an adolescent girl’s overkeen advances?”

If discomfiture were the theme at a sculpting contest, Xenk would have been the winning entry. “Edgin. I abhor deceit of any kind, but I have been proven to be powerless when faced with Lady Iris’ sadness and disappointment. I asked you here to pretend-”

“You’ve got to be kidding me!”

Silently soldiers dance till they fall
Icicle chandelier shining so cold
They are draped in dread in her masquerade
Lady Marlene takes your hand and commands the

“I assure you, Edgin, I would not have dared to request you undertake this journey for a mere jest!”

With a moan that — he hoped — accentuated the extent of his suffering, Edgin dropped his face into his hands. What was he even meant to say to this? Here, of all places, Xenk expected him to purport a relationship between them? And, even worse, to retain any semblance of sanity doing so? Any shreds of his dignity?

“Edgin? If this is such a distasteful prospect to you-”

“What,” Edgin interrupted Xenk through clenched teeth, unable to listen to the sharp tension in his friend’s smooth (smooth, deep, lovely-) voice for even a moment more, “is it that you want me to do, exactly? To what… to what extent am I supposed to, uh, pretend?”

Silence.

“I… I will readily admit that I am inexperienced in matters of courtship.” Oh for fuck’s sake. “Even… moreso when it comes to those of noble birth and standing. What would you consider — appropriate, to insinuate I might not be available without going any farther than necessary?”

Appropriate.

Farther than necessary.

Edgin was doomed. He was thoroughly, hopelessly fucked. Screwed. Cactused, as the desert folks tended to say. Was Xenk a virgin? No, he could not be, not at over a century old… right? Nine hells, did it even matter? This was not about Xenk’s experiences, or preferences, or any of the like; it was about Xenk asking for aid and Edgin coming running like a desperate little heap of insecurities in need of validation. And now here he was, stuck with this man he had been crazy about (Holga spent a lot of time laughing at him these days) ever since they properly got to know each other, and having to feign they were courting — courting! Such a serious and inherently innocent thing — without letting Xenk find out how hopelessly in love he was. (Because Xenk? Xenk was Xenk, and a paladin, and way too perfect to even be real, and Edgin was… Edgin. Yeah, nope, better to not invite such heartache as a rejection by the second fucking human — person! — he had ever lost his heart to. Better to not measure his own worth in acceptance by a man who was virtue personified.) And worst of all, it was happening here of all places. Whatever could go wrong?

“You could just tell her you’re not, uh. Available.”

“And run the risk of being confronted with her tearful gaze, of having her guilt me into something I cannot condone?”

Xenk sounded genuinely forlorn; and alright, Edgin knew damn well that Lady Iris could be a manipulative brat. The paladin’s genuine desire to help and heal did doubtlessly put him at risk here, in this place where manipulation of wordplay and exploitation of loopholes were considered a well-beloved sport. Lady Iris herself may not wield any power beyond the political might of having influential allies, but those very same allies-

“-You didn’t make her any promises, did you?”

“I — beg your pardon?”

“Lady Iris, did you promise her anything?”

“Of course not! She is a child; and was in distress besides. Moreover, I have no interest in-”

“Not in a romantic sense, Xenk, but in general. Did you make her any promises, any at all?”

“Ah.” Xenk’s fine features eased into absentminded smoothness as he thought back, eyes cast far into the vibrant hues of dusk when Edgin stole a glance at him. “I promised that I would see her safely to shore if it was within my capabilities, and so I did. Beyond that, I only promised that I would attempt to attend her coming-of-age celebrations, but nothing further.”

Well. “Good thing that you’re here, then, honey,” Edgin sighed in exasperation and surrender. “Lady Marlene would’ve cashed in on that promise if you hadn’t made good on it.”

From the corners of his eyes, he saw Xenk’s dark brows rocket upwards once more; in open alarm this time. “Am I to fear any sort of retribution from her?”

“Nah, why would you? You’re here after all, no promises broken.”

It was only when Xenk stiffened further that Edgin realised there might have been, once again, a tad too much teeth to his smile. Grin. (He had been trying to smile, okay? Warmly and reassuringly. Only, it had not quite turned out that way. Damn it but he hated this place, and who it made him. Granted, that person was still a sight better than the skin he had left behind to come here in the first place, but it was not who he was now. Who he had chosen to be, and worked so hard to remain; even though he had lost his way once or twice.)

(Or a couple more times.)

“Edgin,” Xenk intoned slowly, haltingly, “what is going on here? If there is any Evil afoot I would have you tell me-”

“We,” Edgin interrupted him brightly (too brightly, but nope, they were not going there, no thank you, he liked his friendship with the irksome, handsome, wholesome paladin just where and how it was), “will be joined at the hip for the remainder of your stay here.” Xenk’s stay, not theirs. His own stay… well. He would have to see how long it lasted. He might not be the one choosing.

Xenk remained puzzled. “That seems rather cumbersome.”

Cumbersome. Right. Yeah, Edgin really did not appreciate where his mind went at that. “It’s another expression.”

“Ah.” Weary resignation. (Edgin violently hated how that resignation pulsed and ached against his heart. Xenk was not meant to sound so subdued, damnit.) “…Please proceed, then.”

“Well, that’s the main idea,” Edgin flailed inelegantly. He really, really, really needed to stop making such a horrible impression on the one person whose opinion mattered to him almost as much as Kira’s. (Really.) “We stay together. I’ll be all over you like a rash… Expression! Uh. I’ll, uhm, make sure I stay close. Keep touching you as though I can’t stop myself-” (oh, how he hated that he actually could stop himself, that he fucking had to because he had no damn right) “-and we should be fine without kissing openly.” He was not disappointed, no sir. “Let’s try and keep the actual contact with any of the Ladies short and sweet, and dance the night away. Don’t — don’t dance with anyone else but me.”

“I shan’t,” Xenk avowed easily with his usual intense sincerity (sincere intensity?), and Edgin flinched reflexively when a peculiar, familiar sensation settled against his skin, like a flimsy cloak to be doffed on demand. (Another one, amongst the many he already wore. He knew each and every one like the back of his own hand, knew when it had been made and by whom. He knew which ones carried the shape of Xenk’s fierce integrity, the scent of Xenk’s brilliant, beautiful soul. He bathed in that scent the way he had been taught never to do, never to get attached.)

“No, I mean it,” he reiterated sharply, and turned to look at the paladin’s straight, flawless nose in order to avoid direct eye contact, “no dancing with anyone else! No making any promises, either. In fact, it’d probably be best if you let me talk whenever possible. I might — know these people, but I don’t necessarily know how to get you out of trouble if you get into the wrong sort of, uh. Trouble. Depends on the specific trouble, really-”

“Edgin. I beg of you, speak plainly. What issues am I to expect at these festivities?”

Ugh.

Warm fingers settled against Edgin’s shoulder, the weight of Xenk’s brand-new promise humming against them.

“I trust you, Edgin — with my life. Will you not trust me in turn?”

Damn paladin. Damn paladin, with his damn sincerity, and his damn voice, and his damn breath brushing hotly against Edgin’s ear. “Xenk…”

“I see.”

“No, Xenk,” Edgin twisted around to face his friend at the quiet, heartbreaking disappointment; panic quickening his breath; “that’s not — it’s not about trust. It’s not! It’s about…” He sighed, and squared his shoulders. “There’s a couple of rules to follow here, and I need you to abide by them, yeah?”

“You know I will do my utmost best. Edgin-”

“Don’t dance with anyone,” Edgin interrupted his friend stiffly, shoulders aching with tension as he whipped away to stare into the unidentifiable depths of the abyss once more (the familiar view was eerie, and curious, and a little depressive; but anything had to be better than facing Xenk-) “don’t make any promises, don’t say ‘thank you’ — that’s an important one, never say ‘thank you’ to anyone here!”

“A most peculiar principle, Edgin-”

“No accepting any gifts, not even from Lady Iris. She herself can’t do much harm, but she’s Lady Marlene’s favourite, for the time being, and who knows what Lady Marlene might’ve found entertaining to contribute.”

“I… must admit I fail to understand-”

“Don’t eat anything,” Edgin quietly, finally, laid out the most important matters. The ones that would betray the truth to the paladin. His spine ached against his hips, against the base of his skull. “Don’t stray from any of the paths. The ballroom’s fine — you’ll recognise it once we get there, it’s unmistakable — but make sure you stay by my side once we step off the marble. And, for all that’s holy to you, Xenk… don’t tell anyone your name.”

Wind to blow ghosts to the sky above
Deep in despair they cry, “Where is the love?”
Oh, the north wind blows ghosts to the sky above
Deep in despair they cry, “Where is the love?”

Xenk flinched sharply, violently.

“Edgin. These people here, are they — fey?”

Jaw so tense he felt it might crack down the middle any moment, Edgin kept his gaze directed downwards. Abysswards. “Some of them. Not… not all. Not everyone. Lady Marlene, she’s — the Lady. This is her court. No Queen or Mother, though, just… her, and her little paradise for all those who wanna melt into the Prime. The people she’s ruling, a good many of them are human folk; and most of the commoners don’t even have a clue there’s, uh, weird stuff happening amongst their nobility. Yeah, most of them are just, normal. Normal people. There’s only a couple handfuls of… others. But, Lady Marlene, she’s — she’s powerful. She didn’t wanna stay, so she left, and now she’s here.” He was babbling, Edgin was well aware, but he could not seem to stop. At least Xenk had not run away screaming, that had to count for something. Right? (Right?) “She’s, uh, she’s been here for a good long while now, but — people don’t realise. Some she tells, of course, and some do figure it out themselves, but in the end it doesn’t… matter. That’s just how it is? She doesn’t age, and it’s always dusk in here, and she’s a — a brat seeking entertainment, I guess, like any fey her calibre who’s lived a little too long and become a little too bored, but. She’s not… evil. There’s no evil here, Xenk. Only — different. Weird. Other. It’s, I promise I didn’t knowingly let you run into a trap or anything! You’ll be fine. Probably. I’m just, I’ve grown kinda attached to you and I don’t want-”

“Edgin,” Xenk interrupted his mindless, anxious jabbering; warm fingers still resting strongly against Edgin’s shoulder, “I know you would never have allowed me to simply walk into a trap. As I said earlier, I trust you, with my life.” Edgin sagged a little when some of the tension bled from his bones, from his spinal cord. Xenk, the attentive bastard, clearly took note of it and stepped even closer. “And you could hardly have stopped me, could you? When I sent a runner with my missive to Neverwinter, I was already on my way here. Indeed, you must have ridden hard to catch up with me before I could even join the festivities. Peace, my friend, I fear no deceit from you.”

But you should, Edgin’s mind screamed silently, you should, you should fear all of us! (It would only be prudent to fear, to respect, every fey who walked the Prime. Even so, Edgin also knew he would never knowingly hurt Xenk, would never make use of the many, many promises that hummed warmly against his skin. A good lot of them had been fulfilled and were naught but smoke and mirrors now, an imprint of a memory against his senses, but some were only fulfillable at the expense of a lifetime and Edgin would keep and guard them greedily and bathe in the scent of Xenk’s soul and keep them forever as a memento of this beautiful man he had lost his heart to and-)

“Lady Iris,” Xenk continued absentmindedly, blissfully unaware of Edgin’s minor mental breakdown, “is she fey, too?”

“Uh, nope.” His voice was a tad too hoarse. Too shaky. Edgin fought to regain his composure, but the paladin’s free hand came to rest hotly against his lower arm before he had a proper chance to grasp for dignity.

“Are you alright, Edgin?”

“Uh, sure. Peachy.”

“Edgin-”

“Lady Iris is human,” Edgin pressed on, “she’s a foundling. Lady Marlene tends to, uh, collect characters of interest and — hmm, let’s say raise them in her image. She’s… it makes for interesting people, let’s put it that way.”

“Such as young women who might go for a boating adventure off the coast, alone, amidst a monster invasion just a few leagues South?” Xenk sounded… amused, rather than scandalised or even revolted. Edgin chanced a glance at the paladin’s (tempting, oh-so-tempting) lips — yep, there was the ghost of a smile. Right there. (It looked horribly, inappropriately, unhelpfully kissable.)

“Yeah, just like that,” he confirmed weakly. “Lady Iris’s been Lady Marlene’s favourite for a good while now, ever since she tried to pickpocket the Lady in Waterdeep a good decade ago.”

“She attempted to… steal from a powerful fey, and in response said fey took her in as a favourite?”

“Look, I never said fey are particularly rational creatures. Kid was a street urchin, clever and quick and gutsy as fuck; and she had the nerve to lie to Lady Marlene — who’d been posing as some terribly well-trained wizard I was told — when she inevitably got caught. The Lady’s not easily entertained, not after so long a life. Hysterically laughed her ass of in the middle of the street and then took the kid back with her, gifted her with a name, and raised her as her own. The result is the, uh, ‘delightful’ menace you saved from an aboleth.”

“I see.” (Edgin had a distinct feeling that Xenk did not, in fact, see.) “So any promises I made her — ?”

“— hold no power in and by themselves, but Lady Marlene… well. I wouldn’t bet that she can’t feed on a promise you make her ward, so. No further promises to Lady Iris, yeah? Or anyone else here, for that matter.”

For several long, long moments they stood in silence, Xenk’s warm body all but pressed against Edgin’s side. It was intoxicating, exhilarating; and thoroughly distracting.

“How about you, Edgin? Am I in danger if I make any vows to you? If I dance with you? If I offer you my name myself, rather than through an intermediary, of my own free will?” Xenk’s voice was calm. Smooth and deep. He seemed calm and serene in his entirety, Edgin noted slightly hysterically, their bodies still aligned in dusk’s vibrant colours.

Edgin, in contrast, was very much not calm. Not at all. Not even a tiny little bit.

“I — in theory, yes, of course! All of us… all of us are dangerous!”

“In theory?”

“Look, I-” Edgin averted his face farther. That abyss had never been quite so interesting. “Thing is, I- … told you I’ve — grown attached to you. You’re… I’m- … I’ll always be who I am, what I am, but I’m also not — who I was. What I was. I made my choices, and I’m sticking by them! You… I wouldn’t do anything to endanger you, Xenk, not like — that. I’m, uh, liable to bring down an entire dungeon of course, because I couldn’t help grab all sorts of interesting loot, or something of the like, but I won’t ever use what I am against you. I promise. I promise! I-”

“You are not making much sense I must admit” Xenk interrupted him with entirely too much placidity, “though I believe I understand what you seek to express. Worry not, Edgin, I trust you still.”

“But — why?” Edgin distantly wished he did not sound so helpless. Whiny. Scared.

Xenk was still pressed against his side, warm palms moulded to Edgin’s shoulder and arm. The paladin’s skin was hot even through layers of clothing, and beyond his mortal musk his very being smelled of the desert. Faintly of undeath, too, a scent the memories awoken by which had nearly made Edgin gag when they had first met, but he had grown used to it. Now, he barely took notice of it, had mentally integrated it into the entirety that was… Xenk.

The man he loved.

Fucking hells.

“You are still the man I met, Edgin. Did… did you know I am able to smell lies?” Shit. Smell lies? (What the fuck, why was the paladin even still tolerating Edgin’s presence; with his penchant for avoiding the truth?) Xenk, even though he must have felt his abrupt increase in discomfort, offered no more than an amused smirk before he continued: “I have encountered fey before in my life, though admittedly not many, and their deceit, if murkier than most peoples’, is not hidden from my senses. I know you, Edgin Darvis, and I know who you are; and what you just revealed to me does not change that. I know you, and I trust you, and I like you. Alright? I will — swear upon it, if you want me to.”

Edgin made a sound that he worried might have been pathetically close to a whimper. (Yeah, okay, it was a whimper in its own right. Happy now?) He tried to speak, but his tongue was like a living creature twisting and crawling in his mouth.

“Edgin. Will you not look at me?”

That… that, he could do. Probably.

Edgin turned in Xenk’s — it was not an embrace. It was not, no matter how much he wanted it to be. (Which was, uh, a lot. Badly.) He turned in Xenk’s hold, and hesitantly tore his eyes away from the safety of dark, unnamed depths he had no complicated (simple, really, but not appropriate and way too intense) feelings for. Black abysses such as this one were totally underrated, truly. So easy to look at, so straightforward in their grim and gloomy being-a-void-ness. Why did nobody ever appreciate that?-

Though he had expected it, Edgin still flinched violently when Xenk drew in a sharp breath as their eyes met again. That contact was no different than it had always been; in the roads of Mornbryn's Shield, or in a Harper Sanctuary, or dripping wet on a fucking beach, or in the darkest corner of an overfull tavern after a successful quest, or at a campfire in a nameless field, or in some evildoer’s sinister lair, or across Edgin’s brand-new kitchen table in Neverwinter, or even less than an hour prior in an alcove of trees leading into Lady Marlene’s woods — but it was oh-so-very different nonetheless. All of those times they had been in the primordial plane, and Edgin had been… himself.

The man he had chosen to be.

Now, now they were in a realm of stranger suns, and though this was not the Feywild itself, it was undeniably fey all the same. Any pocket of reality an archfey built for themselves into a corner of the Prime would always carry that distinctly other essence.

“Edgin, your eyes…” Xenk’s voice was noticeably hoarse.

Edgin cringed viciously and tried not to read it as disgust, he really tried. (Admittedly not particularly successfully. Clearly.) “Uh, yeah. I… know. It’s… it’s this place, I’m sorry-”

“They are beautiful.”

Edgin started.

Xenk looked like he would very much like to swallow his tongue.

(Edgin would very much like to swallow Xenk’s tongue, too.)

(Or other… things.)

“Why, thank you, honey.” He preened, just the tiniest little bit, and fluttered his long (long) lashes in as exaggerated a manner as he could manage. Hey, he was justified in his bone-deep relief, alright? If few enough people were comfortable facing his too-blue gaze in the Prime; no non-fey had ever braved the experience beyond mundane spaces. It was part of what he was and he had made his peace with it (kind of) when he had chosen to live as a human, but he had not been aware what… what it would feel like, to have this defining feature of his inner creature deemed beautiful.

Not not-disgusting, or intriguing, or even captivating. No, beautiful.

Xenk chuckled out the most charming little laugh. “You truly are one of a kind, Edgin, and I am quite certain I shall never tire of your company. My long life, though undoubtedly worthwhile and rewarding, had begun to feel really rather — wearisome, afore fate saw fit to introduce us. Come. I am… I very much appreciate you entrusting this secret to me, and will treat it with the utmost respect and confidentiality.” With a slight, breathy hiss, another promise settled in to coat Edgin’s skin. Damn paladin- “If you are amenable, I would very much like to discuss your life and choices both in further detail at a future opportunity. For now, however, might we call upon Lady Iris? I shall follow your lead and place my life in your capable hands, Edgin, if that is agreeable.”

Agreeable.

A-fucking-greeable.

Edgin wanted to place himself, in his entirety, preferably naked, in Xenk’s big, warm, capable hands; that he would have considered agreeable. (He wanted to place his life in Xenk’s future. To mould them together until they could not hope to be unravelled ever again, the way he and Zia had been unravelled and torn apart-)

“Sure, h-honey. Let’s… do that.”

As expected, Xenk tensed at the carelessly flung-about endearment. Edgin paused.

He enjoyed taunting, and testing, and teasing. It was who he was, damnit. Just — when he had first taken note of Xenk’s reaction (the very first time he had thoughtlessly said it when they had first begun to form a genuine friendship, yeah, alright, he was a Greedy Sap Who Might Have Had An Inappropriate Thing For The Hot Paladin For Much Longer Than He Had Been Willing To Admit), he had kept it up with the intention to tease. But, if it made Xenk truly uncomfortable…

(Maybe, just maybe, they were close enough friends that he need not annoy Xenk into giving him attention.)

“C’mon, Xenk. You... didn’t sound overly averse to the idea of dancing when I suggested it as a plan of action, earlier?”

Xenk, once more as composed as ever, again raised his sharp brows. Wryly. (Conspicuously wryly, really.) “Please do define ‘not overly averse’ as a concept, Edgin.” His dry sense of humour had taken a while to come out, and even longer to be understood.

Edgin squinted in suspicion. “And suddenly, he’s a jokester. People’d like you a lot better if your idea of a joke wasn’t so fucking brittle and hard to find, Xenk.” Oh, shit, that had come out a lot harsher than intended. Edgin, paling, scrambled to apologise; but the paladin was faster:

“And yet you like me just fine. I wonder what that says about you, Edgin Darvis?”

Edgin snapped his mouth shut so abruptly his teeth clicked together uncomfortably. Well, damn. Damn that arse of a paladin who was not only hot and gorgeous and the most caring, devoted, perfect caricature of a person; but also (occasionally) funny. Shit. As though Edgin had not been plenty fucked already, without that added bonus.

“Dancing,” he struggled to regain control of the conversation (ha ha), “you good with it? …Do you even dance?”

“I have been instructed,” Xenk conceded, though the ghost of a smirk remained parched into the corner of his lips. “Though I am forced to confess I know not whether what dances my mentor insisted I learn might be played in a fey’s court.”

Huh.

“Don’t you worry about that, hon- Xenk. Also, not really what’s important right now. That you know how to dance doesn’t mean that you enjoy doing it. So, are you — what’d I say, ‘overly averse’ to the concept?”

“In fact, you inquired whether I was ‘not overly averse’ to it; to be exact. The negation does affect the implied willingness and, really, the entire vein of the inquiry-”

“Xenk,” Edgin poked the paladin sharply between two ribs, making him hiss with surprise, “are you comfortable with dancing with me?”

“Of course I am. You presented this approach as the most feasible strategy for meeting tonight’s challenges, and I trust your assessment-”

“Xenk. Xenk! This is not about — we can find another, uh, another damn strategy! I asked if you’re comfortable with the idea because I’m not, I’m not fucking dancing with you if you’re uncomfortable with it! I know you’re willing to put up with all kinds of shit in the name of duty or whatever, but I’m not — I’m not supporting that! If you wanna suffer for other people’s happiness and, and, and their fucking comfort, that’s your prerogative, but not… I won’t be complicit in that. I know I’m a little shit all the time, testing boundaries and whatnot, but I don’t — I fucking hate the idea of you being uncomfortable with me, or because of me. Understood?”

Xenk blinked, and smiled, and Edgin thought his heart might break when confronted with that sight. It was a bitterly tender and painfully genuine thing, that smile, and he would do horrible, terrible things to see it again. (And again, and again, and again.)

“Understood, Edgin.”

“Xenk-”

“I appreciate your consideration, Edgin. And no, I am not uncomfortable with the concept of spending a night in dance with you; however long a night might be in this place.”

How in the Nine Hells was any man, fey-blooded or not, meant to survive losing their heart to Xenk fucking Yendar?

“As long as we want it to be, ho- Xenk.”

Murk is her grip on the world
Calamity rules when her flag is unfurled
Turn your backs on Marlene and let there be love
Pallid and pale, you all fall asleep as the

“She seemed to accept our liaison gracefully enough.”

Liaison.

Edgin grimaced into the crowd, the expression hidden from Xenk’s view by the paladin’s picture-perfect posture as Edgin led him through a slow waltz. For now, the magicked instruments floating above a thick branch-come-pedestal (and, oh, how it hurt his bard’s heart to see such sorcery used where living people should be sharing their art!) stuck with worldly and classic pieces, though the music was sure to turn wilder as the party progressed.

“I don’t believe she would’ve really wanted to, uh. Start anything with you.” He had advised Xenk not to say anything here that they did not want the court to know. The gallery against the cliffs had been reasonably secluded, but there was no such thing as privacy in Lady Marlene’s ballroom; not among feykind. Now, Lady Iris’ potential interest in testing Xenk’s boundaries would be no surprise to anyone present, but the fact that their — liaison — was nothing more than playing pretend? That, they better avoid spelling out.

“Perhaps,” Xenk allowed gracefully, “you doubtlessly know her better than I. Either way, she is most congenial, when she is not-…”

“-busy being a brat?”

“I was seeking more charming wording.”

“I know,” Edgin snorted, and led them from natural into reverse as he elegantly maneuvered around some of the other dancers; at least half of whom were fey. It was disconcerting, being back here and feeling the playful, familiar magicks tickle and tingle his senses. “I wasn’t.”

“So I saw.”

“Again with the wryness. Really, Xenk, it was easier to make fun of you when you weren’t even trying to let anyone see you had something resembling a sense of humour. How am I supposed to take the piss out of you — idiom! — when you keep taking away my material?”

“I do so hate to disappoint you.”

“…Yeah, you could at least pretend you’re serious.”

Leading allowed Edgin to steal a glance at Xenk’s dry smirk teasing the corners of his lips as he led them across the polished marble underneath their feet. Fairy lights glittered in the high branches of the ancient trees Lady Marlene had grown and reared to perfection, the vibrant colours of eternal dusk muted by the thick canopy. The atmosphere was the very definition of magical, as always, and Edgin hated intensely how fucking romantic it was, waltzing with the stunningly beautiful man who had so effortlessly claimed his heart as a mournful melody trickled through the warm midsummer air and fireflies complemented the magical lights floating above their heads. (It was downright cheesy, that’s what it was, and Edgin was not thinking about it. He. Was. Not. Thinking. About. It. Or about their hips slotted together tightly, for that matter. Or about how easily Xenk took his every lead. Or about how lovely and strong and muscular Xenk’s shoulder felt under his palm. Or-)

“If I may speak freely-”

“-When do you ever not, h-Xenk? But, please, go ahead-”

“-thank you. I must admit, I was most curious to see both Lady Iris’ and Lady Marlene’s reactions to your presence. Some others’ as well, though I recognised none but these two. I… struggled, to comprehend their opinions.”

“It’s… complicated.”

“Are you willing to explain?”

To converse at a ball, mid-dance, was not something Edgin could have pulled off in any other place — here his ears were more fey than human, and the volume of both music and merriment did not restrict him. Xenk, of course, had his weird super-human hearing going for him, and was presumably not even challenged.

“I was… a very different person here, and an even more different one before,” Edgin relented; swaying them gently and aimlessly in the handful of breaths between dances before the animated instruments, led by the citole, struck up a slow foxtrot. Lovely. He shifted his weight and realigned their hips, leading Xenk into a low step backwards, and the paladin followed fluidly. Slow foxtrot — slow foxtrot, for all that it was horribly difficult to perfect, was meant to look as flowing and effortless as an afternoon stroll; both dancers ever in motion. The fact that Xenk not only knew the finicky technique, but also moved with a style and ease so similar to his own that they were compatible without much adjustment and adaptation led his thoughts down roads he really, really could not afford dealing with right now. (Or ever.)

Damn, but Edgin had missed dancing.

“Many who leave the Feywild to live in the Prime come through Lady Marlene’s court. It’s sort of like a safe in-between, a place to figure out who you wanna be. Most… tend to stay. Of course, there’s plenty of fey who shift to the Prime for various motives, be they innocent and helpful or nefarious, and they typically make their own way. But those of us who just want to… well, be; but not there? We end up here.”

“And so you did?”

“And so I did. I wasn’t… have you ever been to the Feywild?”

“I have not, nor had I planned to.”

“Well, you aren’t missing out.” The song was a classic, one of those old-faithfuls played at every ball, and Edgin had not heard it in half a century. It crept under his skin to settle against his nerves, and Xenk’s steely frame pressed so tightly against his only served to magnify the sensation. “I — hated it there. I’ve always been a bad specimen, a horrible representative of my kind.” He laughed hollowly, and his friend’s grasp of his left hand tightened abruptly.

“Edgin. If speaking of this pains you, I would not wish to see you suffer for the sake of satisfying my ordinary curiosity.” Stupid, honourable paladin.

“Nah, it’s okay. It’s… not easy, talking about it, but I want you to know.”

Xenk’s smile, though averted by posture, should have been outlawed.

“I am most appreciative of you opening yourself to me.”

(Yeah, Edgin would like to open himself to Xenk alright. To be spread open, spread out. To be laid out like dessert and feasted upon.)

(Nine Hells, this was not going well.)

“I, uh.” Nope, he was not hoarse, not at all. That had to be a fluke. A fever dream. A delusion. “I wasn’t… in a way, I can’t change what I am, but I hated being… well, that. The way I had to be. In the Feywild. We… my kind, we’re meant to prey and exploit. And I — I still get high off tricking some rich bastard into financial ruin, or off twisting people’s words on their own tongues, but not… not without rhyme or reason, you know? I want to pick my, uh, targets by cause, rather than availability. I want to help as much as I harm. I still wanna be chaos, but. The good kind of chaos. Does that… make sense?”

“Edgin,” Xenk murmured, and when had the fucking song ended? “You are chaos personified. The best kind of chaos.”

The best kind of chaos.

The best kind of chaos.

The best kind of chaos.

He had never gotten a lovelier compliment.

“Xenk-…”

Yeah, that definitely had not been a whimper. (Liar.)

“Fey or not, Edgin, you are a good man. A thief, and a trickster, and a storyteller, but you are a good person, nonetheless. I am truly fortunate to have met you.”

“You, the paladin of all paladins, calling me a good… man?”

“Edgin-”

“No, Xenk, I know who and what I am and-”

Xenk lifted his hand (large, warm, calloused, oh-so-strong) from Edgin’s upper arm and fitted it right across his mouth, in an effort to shut him up. Oh Gods.

“Edgin,” he repeated, and the fondly amused exasperation in his voice was a blanket Edgin wanted to roll up and die in, “you yourself just told me that you left the Feywild in order to be different. That you wish to help more than harm. I have seen you at your best, and though I might not have seen you at your worst — you were not far from it when we first met. I am… proud, to call you my friend. To rely upon you, and to occasionally remind you of what morales elude you. You know of my proclivity for honesty, and I would not lie to you, Edgin. Will you believe me?”

Edgin blinked. He… had to, kind of, right?

A group of three dancers almost barrelled into them where they were stood stock-still on the marble dance floor, a new, much faster song now struck up by the unmanned band, and he gratefully grasped the unexpected overture of diversion (evasion) with both hands. “C’mon, Xenk, take off your shoes.”

“…I beg your pardon?”

“Granted.”

“Edgin-”

“Look, do you see anyone wearing shoes?”

As Xenk looked around, sharp gaze trailing after several dozen dancers twisting and twirling as the bagpipes commanded, Edgin bent down to unbuckle his own boots. By the time the paladin had confirmed the truth implied by his question, his bare feet settled against the cool, smooth marble; polished blank by skin and weather both.

“But — why?”

“Feycourt, Xenk. Don’t ask why, it’s bad for your sanity.”

“This… does not resemble any dance I have been taught,” Xenk further attempted to stall, and Edgin grinned at him.

“Doesn’t matter. Trust me, you’re gonna be fine.”

Xenk’s pupils blew wide, and without further hesitation he bent low to take off his high boots, suave leather that hugged his shanks. Edgin, who was not ogling Xenk’s arse (but only because he was standing in a bad position and could not quite see it, trough be told), exchanged a smirk with a solo dancer flying by on little more than reflex; all wild and toothy and frenzied.

…Oh.

Oh no.

It would have been better for everyone involved (mostly for Xenk-), if Edgin had not realised the effect his fey blood peeking out had on the paladin. Really.

“Come,” he yelled, grasping his friend’s hands as soon as Xenk straightened, their shoes vanishing mysteriously. He locked their fingers together, entwined and interwove them like threads of fate, and then they were — off. The other dancers swept them up and the music, fast-paced and unrestrained, swallowed them whole. This… this was dancing among fey. You might lose control if you were not careful, and dance until your body fell apart around you, but Edgin would take care of Xenk. He would.

Xenk’s dark face was flushed, pupils blown and lips parted slightly, as he followed Edgin’s lead without any steps to fall back upon.

He was fucking gorgeous.

The song flew around them, through them, within them. It slowed into a familiar piece led by an ancient organ (Lady Marlene loved the wonky old thing, grown into some of the thicker branches) that was no less intense but not quite as quick as the earlier dance. Edgin took it as an opportunity to let Xenk breathe, and led them towards the edge of the marble-tiled area. Lady Iris floated past them, twirled across by a fey Edgin was not familiar with, and a handful of tiny green pixies clinging to the tips of her long, braided hair; hitching a ride.

“What was your name?”

“Excuse me?”

“Your name, when you were a member of Lady Marlene’s court. It is not your name any longer, so it should not retain any power over you; or I would not dare request it. Would you share it with me?”

Edgin froze like a deer in headlights. Sure, he had left that name behind, much like he had shed the entire person Lady Marlene had asked him to be, but had he truly given up upon what it represented? He believed that he had, had not even thought of it in more than a decade, but — there was no harsher trial to probe this truth than sharing a dead name and seeing whether it still had any control over him. It was a terrifying prospect. (It was a liberating opportunity.)

“I… used to be Lady Marlene’s chosen ward, for a while,” he admitted haltingly, gaze averted, “'twas a wild time. When I shifted over from the Feywild I was burning with a need I couldn’t quite define, didn’t really understand. She took one look at me and decided to set my foot on a path she chose for me, and see whether I liked it. Definitely an intense experience. If you think Lady Iris’s a brat? — I was three times as bad. As I said, my nature lends itself to manipulation and exploitation. It was… freeing, to do so within the controlled environment of the court, but still… not what I wanted. Not what I was comfortable with. I still didn’t feel like it was… me, you know? In more than one way. Now, though names have a lot of power in the Feywild, it’s — different. I couldn’t even really pronounce my true name with this tongue, and it didn’t hurt me the way my, uh, my essence as well as my body did.”

“Your body… hurt you?”

Edgin grimaced, gaze still averted. “It wasn’t quite — right. Wasn’t quite right, either, when I shifted over and changed all the things that were too… other, about it. Too obvious to the non-fey folk who live here.”

“Other. You have termed your kind that before.”

The shrug, surely, was not even nearly as nonchalant as Edgin was trying to make it be. “Yeah. It’s… it’s what we are. What I am.”

“What you are, Edgin, is yourself. Other, either, different — none of these terms matter, for you are lovely as you are. The person you allowed yourself to be. Do you understand me? Do you… believe me, now?”

When Edgin remained silent (discomfited, disbelieving; over-fucking-whelmed); warm fingers came to rest against his chin and requested he lift his head with the gentlest kind of force.

“Do you believe me, Edgin?”

“I… I can — try.”

“I would ask no more than that.”

“T-thanks.”

“Of course.” Damn that smile. Damn that smile, and those pearly white teeth, and Edgin’s ridiculous heart.

“Would you share the name you left behind with me? If you are not willing to, or even not comfortable, please tell me so and I shall never ask again. Only — I felt you might wish to, earlier, when you began to tell me more of what you felt.”

“I… I did. It’s scary, though.”

“How might I alleviate your fears?”

Edgin smiled crookedly. “I don’t think you can do any more than you’re already doing, Xenk.” His thumb was still warm against Edgin’s raspy chin. He still stood way too close, even as they were not dancing. He still had not run away, or cursed Edgin’s very existence, or even just tried to keep himself safe from a fey who liked to play at being a better being than they had been born to be. “When I shifted over, Lady Marlene called me Therese.”

The air shifted. It was sweet and heavy, full of life. Alight with magic. Edgin was cloaked in countless promises, and his name was his own.

Nothing changed.

“I have heard references to Lady Therese tonight, but I was not aware they referred to who you used to be. Thank you, Edgin, for your trust.”

Nothing changed in the way Xenk looked at him, either.

“If I couldn’t trust you, Xenk, then whom?” He laughed, and if it was slightly hysterical, the paladin had the decency of not drawing any attention to it. “I… yeah. Something else I left behind when I turned my back on this place and set out to find — a home. My own skin. Myself.”

“And you found all of that in Targos?”

“I did — alone, at first, and then with Zia. It was a… process. All of it. Becoming a Harper, that was my attempt to use my natural inclinations for good.”

“You excelled at it, as I was told.”

“You… were?”

“Repeatedly. In great detail.” Xenk smirked.

“By whom?”

“Several of your old compatriots. You were loved, Edgin, and trusted. Yes, you betrayed them, and many Harpers will remember that; but the good you accomplished has not been forgotten, either.”

“I… That’s… nice to know,” Edgin admitted faintly, and it was. (It was! He had been trying so hard, back then, and to know that in spite of how everything had gone to shite, his actions had actually had positive consequences-)

Xenk smiled.

“What you did and who you were before you lost your wife was admirable, but — I will admit, I am very fond of who you are now, Edgin.”

There was nothing else Edgin could have done. In that moment, with Xenk’s gentle, terribly earnest admonishment breathed into the handswidth of space between them, he lost all semblance of control.

Xenk’s lips were… warm. As warm as the rest of him, a heat stronger men than Edgin would have grown addicted to. They were warm, and soft, and real; and Edgin reared back in shock when his brain caught up with his actions.

“Shit. Shit — Xenk, I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry; I wasn’t trying to make you dance with me in order to take advantage, I promise, though it did feel incredible. Uh. Uhm. That’s not. That’s not what I meant to say.”

“Edgin.”

“Anyway, I’m sorry. I’m sorry! I should’ve asked. Granted, I never would’ve, I’m not that big a moron to think you’d ever want to, but still. This wasn’t okay, and I apologise.”

“Edgin-”

“It won’t happen again, I prom-”

“-are your promises binding as well?”

“…What?”

“I would hate for you to promise never to kiss me again, and be bound by it,” Xenk said quietly, softly, with that sweet little smile he only ever seemed to offer Edgin. (Only Edgin and no one else; he had watched. Extensively. Excessively. And of course it was possible that Xenk smiled like that at people they never met when they were together, but he certainly was not doing it for Holga, or Simon, or Doric, or even Kira. Also, it did not have to mean anything, did it? It could well be a friendship-thing. It was probably a friendship-thing.) “To be honest, I would very much like for you to kiss me again.”

(It might not, actually, be a friendship-thing.)

“I’d rather have you kiss me,” Edgin blurted out before he could think better of it. And, wow, it seemed he had actually managed to convey just what he meant by that, because both of Xenk’s warm (hot), calloused palms settled possessively against his jaw, and the paladin ran a broad thumb across Edgin’s lower lip.

“Your wish is my command.”

And then he was being — ravaged, in the most perfect of ways.

Huh.

North wind blows ghosts to the sky above
Deep in despair they cry, “Where is the love?”
Oh, the north wind blows ghosts to the sky above
Deep in despair they cry, “Where is the love?”

“I will require you to address your exact expectations and boundaries afore I take this any further,” Xenk murmured lowly, deeply against Edgin’s lips, and, yeah, assessment adjusted: Xenk was not a virgin. (Definitely not a virgin.)

Edgin… breathed. He was still wrestling his mind out of his dick and back up into his brain, and it was slow going. Definitely a process, too.

Xenk smirked — self-satisfaction personified, and if that was not hotter than the Nine Hells Edgin did not know what was — and led them off the marble tiling that marked the dance floor. Tables ran along some of the not-quite-walls-but-rather-densely-grown-trees, overflowing with food and drink alike. There were little spaces in between the counters, narrow niches hidden in twilight, and Edgin stumbled into one of them when Xenk tugged gently but insistently at his hand.

Wow, his knees were fucking jelly. J-e-l-l-y.

He really appreciated the sudden solidity of a tree trunk against his back. “Right. Discuss. Negotiate. I can do that.”

“Good,” Xenk rumbled, and Edgin figured he might have to have a serious talk with his mind about priorities. Sure, gravity was a thing, but that was not how blood flow was supposed to work.

“I — you’ve never-”

Courted anyone. No, he could not say this aloud. Too much had already been spoken that prying ears might have found only too fascinating; they had a role to play. (Damn it.)

Xenk’s gaze flickered down to their intertwined fingers. (When had that happened?) “I have not,” he confirmed quietly, and in this environment where too much had been said, were they even speaking of the same thing? “There have been few I would have chosen for myself, and none who would have chosen me in turn. I sought satisfaction elsewhere, but I have never experienced…”

Love. A relationship. Affection so violent it might tear you apart, shared between two people. (Or more than two, really, if you swung that way. Edgin did not swing that way, but who was he to judge?)

…Yeah, they were definitely speaking of the same thing.

“I would choose you Edgin. Will you choose me, too?”

“Yes. Yes. A thousand times yes-”

“Once will suffice.”

And then Xenk was kissing him again.

Edgin quietly bid rational thought farewell for the eve.

Reality slipped away under Xenk’s strong hands and skilled tongue. Both space and time had their own pace, their own laws and meaning, in Lady Marlene’s pocket of the world, but the intensity of being loved — that had little to do with magic, and fey, and different planes of existence. It had everything to do with a certain paladin, though, and Edgin was entirely at peace with that.

“The Gods must be lenient, to grant me someone to come home to after all. That is, if you-”

“Home,” Edgin rasped, a single word he had latched onto even as the world was shapeless and formless around him, “yeah, I’d like that. I’d like that a lot, sweetheart.” An endearment for Xenk alone, one that did not make him flinch. “Neverwinter sound good to you? I know you’ll have to leave regularly, of course, you’re gonna want to keep riding out and save the world, and I wouldn’t bind you; that’s not who you are. It’s not who I am, either, and we might share in some quests and adventures, but not in all of them. I guess. That’s okay, though, as long as we both come home. Right? Is that okay with you? It’s okay with me. I’ll have to ask Kira and Holga of course, but they won’t say no. They like you plenty, Xenk, and they’ll be happy to have you. They — no, not will. Would. They would be happy to have you, as would I. If you want to. But. No pressure, no expectations.”

“Home,” Xenk smiled longingly, “with you. You babble, Edgin. Are you nervous?”

“What? No!”

Xenk grinned in wry amusement, and his nostrils flared. Right. Smelling lies. That was… impractical. (It was perfect, actually, because it meant Edgin could remain himself without cheating his lover out of the truth.)

(Lover. Well, damn.)

“You are most endearing, Edgin.”

“…am not.”

“As you say, love.”

“Hmpf.” (Love!)

“Home, then?” That smile, the oh-so-special one that remained wrought into Xenk’s expression even underneath the fondly dry amusement, was still there. “With you? In Neverwinter?”

“Yes. Yes! Please.”

“Home,” Xenk repeated, and leaned in to bury his face against Edgin’s collarbone.

Edgin — breathed.

Home.

North wind blows ghosts to the sky above
Deep in despair they cry, “Where is the love?”
Oh, the north wind blows ghosts to the sky above
Deep in despair they cry, “Where is the love?”