Note: This is a gay themed fantasy novel about kings and magic, love and war. Although I will often allude to sexual encounters, there are no scenes of sexual acts for this is, by and large, a love story. This author claims exclusive copyright to the characters, settings, and plot. The first part includes some characters approximately sixteen years of age who would, I have been assured, be of the legal age of consent in some places.
Dark Wishes
M.C. Gordon
Part One: Xoachin
Chapter Four:
"You have never visited Aolane, have you?" Ilafrain asked as they dismounted and started up the long steps to the castle entrance.
"No, M'Lord," Xoachin replied. "I wanted to but my father forbade me to study here. Oh, Sire, you were magnificent!" he said. "My father fears no one but you had him trembling in fright."
"He would fear Miralen a great deal more than I had not those welts and cuts on your back healed so smoothly. My brother king does not know that I have brought you here or why. I think it best he stays in ignorance of how your father beat you. He already believes that your grandfather broke the covenant between himself and your people. His love for you should restore that covenant. But if he learns what your father has been doing to you, I fear his vengeance would be swift and sure. Do you understand, lad?"
"Yes," Xoachin replied, his eyebrows raised. He was unaware that there was a conflict between his family and the Qell.
"I will see that you stay as long as possible. Remember that I proclaimed great dismay in you. You must write to your mother and sisters often. Tell them that you are made to study endlessly, and are put to hard tasks when your study ends each day."
"Yes, Majesty," Xoachin said.
"While you are here, Xoachin, you will call me Ilafrain. Only the household servants refer to us by rank or title. The other students, whom you will meet on the morrow, call us by name."
"Where is Miralen?" Xoachin asked for he saw no sign of the High King as Ilafrain led him into the castle and along ancient corridors.
"At this hour of the day he is probably with his warriors. The training field is two hours hard ride from here and he trains with them each day. Their training is as important to him as my responsibilities are to me. If there should be a war, the warriors must know how to think and what actions to take if they are to survive battle. Miralen values each of his men as much as I value every student who passes through these halls. The same, Resnaron experiments with his grains to increase yield and knows which grow well or poorly in certain provinces."
They continued walking until Ilafrain stopped and opened the great oak doors to a room. "Come," he beckoned, "here is where you will spend your days in study."
Xoachin was amazed at the size of the room. Huge shelves filled with scrolls lined the walls. Young people sat at tables and were busy reading or copying scrolls. Apprentices rushed in and out laden down with information for their masters.
"Here is all the knowledge of the ten kingdoms," Ilafrain said in a reverent voice. "All that we have been or ever will be is contained here. Your work is good, Xoachin," he said. "I will reward Carvel for his tutelage, perhaps assign him to the archives for a time. Some of these students would prosper under his teaching. I brought you here not only to rescue you from your father's cruelty but because I also believe you will gain in wisdom being close to so much knowledge. You have an inquisitive nature and a good soul. What you learn here will make you a much better leader than the beatings your father gave you."
"Enough," Ilafrain said, casting his left arm casually over Xoachin's shoulder. "You will need a few days to settle before I actually put your mind to work. For now, you must bathe and make yourself presentable for the evening meal. Miralen will be pleased to see you and the two of you can indulge yourselves to your hearts' content."
Xoachin began to blush and cast his eyes downward. Ilafrain quickly led him to a small sitting room.
"Is there a problem?" he asked gently.
"I ... we ..., Sire? Can you tell me what I must do or what Miralen will expect from me?" Xoachin asked shyly.
Ilafrain raised one eyebrow in near disbelief. "Do you mean you have never ...? For the two years past he has been proclaiming his love for you to all in Aolane who would listen! And you tell me that he has never touched you? Never fulfilled that love?"
"No more than hidden embraces," Xoachin replied.
Ilafrain pulled a chair forward and sat before his legs could fail him. "My brother king has more patience than I, young lordling," he said, his voice low and husky. "You and I would have been lovers long since had I seen you before Miralen stole your heart.
I know not in what ways Miralen prefers to ... love, for he is not to my taste in men. Far to arrogant to suit me," Ilafrain said. He rose from his chair and stood before Xoachin, reaching down and lifting the young man's chin with one hand. "If you wish, I could show you those things that please me."
Xoachin looked into Ilafrain's eyes and saw that they had turned from pure silver to a deep, shining blue.
Ilafrain suddenly drew away. "You tempt me, lad," he said. "I had best give you over to the care of the castle steward."
An hour later Xoachin eased himself from a hot bath in front of a warm fireplace. His hair and body had been lathered and scrubbed by royal servants. He had refused to have his private parts cleansed by any but himself, remembering the look of sheer desire he had seen in Ilafrain's eyes.
He was wearing a white woolen gown as the servants dried his hair. They had made him sit near the hearth and one of the maids rubbed his nails with a soft cloth until they shone. Another ran a brush through his hair until it crackled around his face like bits of lightning.
When they were finished, he dressed in the fine black breeches and deep blue tunic that had been laid out for him. Ilafrain had chosen the tunic knowing that it would cast a soft blue glow to the longer silver tresses and turn the color of Xoachin's eyes from violet to deep lavender.
Unsure what to do next, he sat and waited for word from Ilafrain. He was pondering his unexpected good fortune when he heard footsteps and muffled voices approaching down the corridor.
The door suddenly burst open and he heard Ilafrain say, "I have a new student, Miralen, and I think you would like to meet him."
Miralen hesitated only a second before crossing the room and taking Xoachin into his arms. "Beloved," he whispered.
Chapter Five:
"Do you think they will join us?" Resnaron asked Ilafrain as they sat at the high table in the massive dining room of Aolane that evening.
"Would you?" Ilafrain asked in return.
"I would," Resnaron replied, "if only for the sake of appearance. What must others think?"
"They will think that Miralen is busy. None but a few of the servants know that the boy is here or who he is. Our brother king's own servants are loyal to the death; you know that."
"Still," Resnaron persisted, "I think they should join us for our meal."
"You are only jealous," Ilafrain said, "because you allowed Frayne to return to his family."
"His father was injured," Resnaron said. "Frayne was concerned for his mother and brothers."
"How is Frayne's father?" a dark-haired young man dressed in a deep red tunic asked as he sat near Ilafrain.
"He heals, Nels," Resnaron replied. "The sickle Hadwyn was using to harvest his wheat was old and not properly kept. It cut deep into the bone. The healers were hard pressed to save the leg from decay."
The king shook his head in dismay. "I have tried to stress the importance of keeping such things in good repair but it seems I have failed."
"Nonsense!" Ilafrain said. "I know Hadwyn. He is a useless old fool. The only redeeming thing he ever did was to lie with his wife and create Frayne."
They stopped talking as servants brought platters of meat and vegetables. Bowls filled with soups, sauces, and melted butter followed.
"As I was saying," Resnaron began when the servants withdrew, "Frayne will stay with his family until Hadwyn mends."
"Then you may never see Frayne again," Ilafrain remarked. "Hadwyn will play the part of the needy father forever. Nels," he said, turning his attention to his current love, "use the utensils. It is distressing to watch you eat with your fingers."
"Sorry," Nels started to say when Ilafrain interrupted him. "And do not talk when you have food in your mouth."
The lad blushed and ducked his head. He swallowed and said, "I will not do it again."
Ilafrain drew in a deep breath and exhaled heavily.
He knew it was his own fault for having fallen for a back country lad with nothing more to offer than a beautiful face and stunning body. "How long have you been here?" he asked.
"Three weeks," Nels responded.
"Do you wish to stay at least three more?" Ilafrain asked.
"Yes," came the tentative reply for the lad had no idea what Ilafrain might expect for the hope of three more weeks.
"Good, then while I am about my business for the next three weeks, you will spend your time learning to comport yourself as a gentleman."
Resnaron watched the exchange between Ilafrain and the latest in a long string of handsome companions. Nels would last no longer than most for Ilafrain was incapable of sustaining love for any mortal being. He would soon lose interest in the stunning but dull lad and fine some worthy occupation to ease the pain of sending him away.
Resnaron sat back and pondered the differences between the kings. They were, all three, bound by the same essence of life that had created them, having come into existence with the land around them. They had no past or childhood. They had come into life as young men, full of the knowledge necessary to aid mortal men survive in the harsh beginning of time.
Resnaron knew that he lacked the charisma of Miralen or Ilafrain. Miralen protected the future of the kingdoms -- Ilafrain the past. Resnaron was left to deal with the daily responsibility of ensuring that crops were sown and harvested at the proper time. Herds, whether they were equine, bovine, porcine, fowl, or sheep and goat, had to be tended to and cared for. The kingdoms had need of food, shelter, and transportation. Someone had to be concerned with the here and now.
He held Ilafrain in slight contempt, for his brother lord was fickle of heart. Ilafrain would find a new love several times a year; grow bored and send the lad away; then lock himself into the archives while he lamented the loss of each. Still, Resnaron had to admit that the archives thrived during Ilafrain's self-inflicted mourning.
Miralen, while physically imposing, was tormented. He could remember the name of each man who had ever died in battle protecting the kingdoms and it caused him nightmares at times. Resnaron could not remember the last time Miralen had allowed himself to fall in love.
Resnaron sighed as he watched Ilafrain try to teach Nels how to handle utensils. He deeply missed Frayne, the golden-haired man who had been his lover the past ten years. Frayne understood him and enjoyed traveling with him to remote parts of the kingdoms in search of new strains of grain, a solution for the blight that periodically swept through the orchards, or a new development in one of the herd populations. He sincerely hoped that his love would return soon to Aolane.
As Resnaron sat pondering, and Ilafrain tried once again to stop Nels from fishing particles of meat from his soup with his fingers, Miralen and Xoachin entered the great dining hall.
"This is my brother king, Resnaron," Miralen said to Xoachin as they arrived at the table.
Xoachin bowed in respect to the king he had not yet met.
"A sycophant!" Resnaron exclaimed. "You have brought a sycophant to court!" He pushed back from the table, looked at Xoachin in contempt, and left in a mighty huff.
"Please excuse him," Ilafrain said. "Any good grace he had has escaped him." He summoned a page. "Send a message to the captain of my guard. Frayne is to return to Aolane posthaste. I will not stand any more of Resnaron's ill humors."
Xoachin stood, greatly dismayed, until Miralen said, "Sit next to Nels. I have business to discuss with Ilafrain while the two of you get to know each other."
Xoachin sat in the chair next to the dark-haired lad and smiled shyly at him. "Have you been here long?" he inquired.
"Three weeks," Nels replied. "Frayne, that's Resnaron's companion, is visiting his family. His Pa whacked a hole in his leg." He picked up a piece of tuber with his fingers and dipped into a rich sauce.
Xoachin stared in amazement. He had never seen anyone do such a thing and wondered if he would be expected to do the same. He was greatly relieved when Ilafrain reached over and gently smacked the back of the young man's hand. "Do not do that again," he heard the king say.
Nels blushed at the gentle rebuke and Xoachin felt uncomfortable for him. "Where is your home?" he asked.
"I used to live in the woods," Nels replied.
"That must be an interesting place to live," Xoachin said. "I grew up in a small fortress."
"Really?" Nels asked. "That must have been nice.
I lived in a hut with my parents and too many brothers and sisters to remember. My pa is a woodcutter. What does yours do?"
"My father is a duke," Xoachin replied, "and I have four sisters. Did Ilafrain bring you here because your father beat you?"
Nels put down the utensil he was trying to hold properly and looked at the golden-hued lad next to him in shock. "No," he said, "my pa would never beat any of us. Did your pa beat you?"
Xoachin suddenly remembered that Miralen was not to know of the cruelty he had suffered at Bellard's hand and said, "No. I just wondered. Oh, and you can hold that better if you do not wrap your fist around it."
He reached over and took Nels' hand in his own, turning the tined utensil so that it fit better between Nels' fingers and thumb. "Thus," he said as he picked up his own and lifted a piece of meat gracefully to his plate.
Nels watched Xoachin as they talked and ate, careful to copy each movement his new friend made. Xoachin quietly showed him how to cut his bread and meat, how to sip his soup from the rounded spoons, and how to dab at the corner of his mouth with the piece of linen provided.
When the meal was finished Ilafrain rose and held out his hand for Nels. "I think I have found you a tutor," he said. "Would you mind spending an hour each day with Nels?" he asked Xoachin.
"Not at all," Xoachin replied, "if that is all right with Miralen."
The king smiled and replied, "I am busy each day, love. During that time you are under Ilafrain's care.
If he wishes you to teach Nels courtly manners, I have no objection. Perhaps this lad will last a bit longer than the others if he has you for a friend and guide."
The two young men, who had become fast friends, began to plan what they would do the next day as the kings led them up the wide staircase and down the corridor that contained their apartments.
"Frayne should be here late tomorrow," Ilafrain said to Miralen. "Perhaps a night or two in his arms will soften Resnaron's ill humor. I grow weary of his behavior and tonight's rudeness to Xoachin was greatly out of line. Frayne's member up his ..."
"Ilafrain!" Miralen exclaimed, "watch what you say! I realize you have had an unusual number of lovers in four hundred years, but these two lads are young and unaccustomed to your graphic speech."
They had reached the door to Ilafrain's apartment and he took Nels by the hand. "Miralen," he said, "I do believe that you are a bit of a prude."
As Ilafrain and Nels disappeared behind the oak doors of the great apartment Miralen turned to Xoachin. "Is your room sufficient?" he asked.
"Ever so much better than my old room," he replied. "But it is not the room I wish."
"Where else would you sleep?" Miralen asked. "It is the finest of the guest rooms in the castle."
"If I may, I would like to sleep with you," the lad replied as he looked up at the man he loved. His eyes were deep with the reflection from his tunic, his silver hair cascading over his shoulders.
"Do you have any idea what might happen?" Miralen asked. His breath quickened for he longed to show Xoachin just how much he loved him but would not ask for his surrender.
"Not exactly," Xoachin replied. "But I love you and wish to show you that love. I know how it is between men and women. I have imagined how it might be between men. And I have dreamed of how it would be with you."
Miralen leaned down and picked Xoachin up in his arms. "Then you shall know before this night is over," he whispered as he carried his love to his own apartment.
Chapter Six:
Xoachin woke the next morning with a song in his heart. Thanks to Ilafrain and, he suspected, Captain Huton, he was at last free of his father and safe in Aolane. He had known a night such as he had never dared imagine, for Miralen had gently introduced him to love.
The sun had not yet begun to rise and the stone walls of the room radiated the coolness of the night before. But the bed was warm and he was about to drift back into blissful sleep when he felt the King stir beside him.
Strong, warm arms pulled him into a gentle embrace and Xoachin heard Miralen whisper, "Was it as you thought it would be?"
Xoachin felt himself blush and had no answer.
"You were worth waiting for," Miralen whispered, his breath passing lightly across Xoachin's ear. "I knew the first time we met that we would become lovers."
"You did?" Xoachin asked, rolling to his side to face the man he loved. "How did you know? Do you really remember when we first met?"
"You were hiding behind the bushes in the garden, feeding bread crumbs to the doves."
"I had to hide," Xoachin replied. "My father thought the household must consume every bit of food produced by the kitchen staff. But I never developed a taste for stale bread and the doves considered it a treat."
Miralen chuckled and held his love more tightly. "It also made a wonderful place to hide and kiss you, for you were too young then for more than kisses."
Their quiet reflection was interrupted as the door to the bedchamber burst open and Ilafrain entered. "The two of you look cozy," he said.
Xoachin thought that Ilafrain would surely turn and leave when he realized the two were still in bed. Instead of leaving, Ilafrain approached them and Xoachin quickly drew the blanket to his chin.
"You need not be so shy," Ilafrain said to him. "I have seen every possible variation of what you seek to hide."
He turned his attention to Miralen and asked, "Did you leave the lad capable of movement? I promised him at least one more day to settle in before he begins his studies but the cook is preparing duck eggs for our morning meal. I was wondering if I could borrow him to show Nels the proper way to eat them. I truly do not wish to see him dip his fingers into unsuspecting yolks."
Miralen slipped from beneath the covers and crossed the room to retrieve a long tunic from a stool near the fireplace. Xoachin could see him in the glow emanating from the dying fire. There seemed to be no difference between the Kings until Ilafrain joined him. In the final gasps of light from the fire, the differences were astounding.
Miralen was taller and heavier. There was no fat to be found upon him, only the muscles in chest and arm expected in a man who wielded weapons on a battlefield. His thighs and calves were well developed from centuries of guiding giant war-horses with his legs. He wore his long black hair in two plaits that fell across his shoulders and reached nearly to his waist.
Ilafrain was wearing only breeches and a cloak thrown around his shoulders against the early morning chill. He removed he cloak as he crossed to the fireplace and stood in stunning contrast to Miralen. His skin was alabaster white next to Miralen, who had developed a slight tan over the years. He was lean and muscular, but not so much as his brother king. His cheekbones were, if possible, more angular and higher set. Ilafrain's hair was unbound and cascaded down his back to his hips.
The only true similarity, the one that did not change, was their eyes. The dying fire reflected from them and they shone deep and unfathomable silver. Xoachin had never acknowledged, until he saw those two sets of eyes, that the Qell were indeed pure magic. Most men would not look directly into those glowing points of silver, for the nature of the Kings was not understood. But Xoachin had no fear of them and knew two things as the two turned to return his look with gentleness: he was protected by one and greatly loved by the other.
"Well?" Miralen asked, "can you move?"
Xoachin bounded from the bed and snatched his long tunic, holding it in front of himself. "Yes," he replied, "and I would be most happy to spend the day with Nels. I think we might become friends if he learns courtly manners and is allowed to stay," he added, almost challenging Ilafrain.
"What is this?" Ilafrain asked with a chuckle. "The pup bares his teeth? Very well, young pup, Nels may stay so that you might have a friend. But see that he learns to please me in ways other than the obvious."
"I had not realized that you needed a friend your own age," Miralen said when Ilafrain had left them.
"You must be about your kingly business," Xoachin replied. "I would like a friend to help pass my time while you are busy."
"You will soon meet the apprentices and other students," Miralen responded. "Surely you will make friends among them. They are much closer to your station than a lowly woodcutter's son."
"I know," Xoachin said, "but I think Nels needs a friend. He is not at all a dullard, only unaccustomed to court. As we spoke last night I had the feeling that he is afraid Ilafrain will send him back to the forest."
"My love," Miralen said as he helped him finish dressing, "that is the one thing he would not do. He never sends a lover away without increasing his position in life. He might apprentice Nels off to the cook or the horse master, perhaps the steward, but not back to his father's hut. Ilafrain cannot love, but he is capable of deep and abiding fondness. His promise to keep young Nels here to be your friend is also a promise to himself to see that this one receives special treatment. The very fact that he asked you to tutor him in manners shows that he feels something for Nels and wishes him to stay."
Xoachin and Nels passed the day pleasantly. Nels was indeed, as Xoachin had remarked, not dull. He earnestly sought to follow Xoachin's lead. The young heir to Lippize patiently showed him how to hold a knife and butter the bread still hot from the oven. Xoachin slowly cut his sausages and eggs so that Nels could copy him. Nels mirrored each movement Xoachin made, from sipping freshly churned buttermilk to the number of times each bite was chewed.
They slowly explored the great fortress castle together, discovering dusty corridors most likely forgotten by even the Kings. They gazed upon finely wrought tapestries that showed past events since the beginning of time, and marveled at the beauty of the castle gardens from windows on the topmost floor.
"You have never seen any of these places?" Xoachin asked, noting Nels' reaction to each new discovery.
"Not before today," Nels answered. "I felt I would be snooping if I wandered around the castle." He paused briefly before turning amber colored eyes to Xoachin. "I am pleased that we are friends," he said.
They were startled nearly out of their wits as a great voice boomed at them, "What are you doing here?"
They turned from the window and faced Resnaron. Red-faced, as if they had been caught in some mischief, they began to stammer an explanation when a commotion below caused the King to turn and flee swiftly from the room. Xoachin and Nels could hear his boots tapping quickly on the stone steps of the great stairway as he made his way downward.
"What do you suppose that is all about?" Xoachin asked.
"His beginning to scold us or his sudden retreat?"
"Both, I suppose," Xoachin said.
"I do not know," Nels responded, "but I would like to know why he suddenly left. I was expecting a thorough tongue-lashing."
The two made their way as quickly and quietly as possible down the staircase, for they were still young enough to be filled with boyish curiosity. They stopped at the final landing and stared first at the scene below, and then at each other.
Resnaron was being held in a tight embrace, his head resting on one shoulder of a huge man. The strange blonde was gently running his fingers through Resnaron's hair and whispering something into his ear.
Xoachin and Nels watched as the stranger cupped one hand beneath Resnaron's chin and brought their lips together. The King seemed to melt into the embrace.
"Who is that?" Xoachin asked.
"That, dear boy," they heard Ilafrain say behind them, "is Frayne."
The difference in Resnaron was as night and day as they took their evening meal. His sullen humor had vanished at the return of his love. Frayne's light conversation dominated the meal and the two youngest were enthralled with his tale of his recent visit home.
"My father is an old fool," he said. "He kept my brothers at home long past a decent time. I had three of them married while I was there. They have little sense so I married them to chits who have at least some ability to think. They will sire healthy children and learn to do an honest day's work. The other three are betrothed and will marry when they are of age. My mother now has a decent girl to help her with her work. I will see that she and my youngest brothers are fed, but I told my father that he will tend the fields as he should or he will starve."
"What did he say?" Xoachin asked in awe.
"What could he say?" Frayne responded. "He does as I require or he starves. And you are?"
"I wondered when you would stop talking long enough for introductions," Ilafrain said with a smile.
"Allow me to present Xoachin."
"At last," Frayne replied as he stood and reached across the table to take Xoachin's hand. "I had begun to fear that you were nothing more than a myth."
"And this is Nels," Ilafrain continued.
"This would be your latest paramour?" Frayne inquired. "Welcome, Nels." Sensing some uncertainty in the young man he added, "We will do our best to see that you are with us for a long time."
He wove a spell, did Frayne. He was not made of magic but possessed a spirit that enveloped all around him and the two young men were quickly set at ease. The meal continued with more of Frayne's conversation, enjoyed as much by Miralen and Ilafrain as by their lovers.
When they had finished eating, Frayne turned to Resnaron and held out his hand. "Come, beloved," he said. "The night grows old and we have been too long apart."
To the astonishment of Xoachin and Nels, Resnaron blushed and rose from his chair.
"I do not understand," Xoachin said as he looked at Miralen.
"Frayne commands their relationship," Miralen explained. "Resnaron may be a king, but he answers to Frayne in all but kingly duties."
To be continued.
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