by Mason Thomas
Dax accepted the answer with the lift of an eyebrow. He loitered to a side table where a wine service was waiting. Dax poured himself a glass and lifted it Hunter’s way. “To happy reunions,” he said.
Hunter lifted his beer in return and took a sip, while inwardly sighing, begging for patience.
Dax seemed like a cat that could smell the dog nearby. It was exactly what Hunter had feared, that his newly acquired and uninvited aristocracy would be a wedge between them. Somehow, he knew Dax would hate that and be unable to see past it.
Hunter certainly didn’t feel noble. He didn’t ask for it and didn’t want it. His whole life he’d had to fight to be included, fight for acceptance. Now he was the epicenter of everything—and the default was not only acceptance, but unearned deference. He hated it that he didn’t have to work for anyone’s approval anymore.
He couldn’t imagine growing up like this. Had his mother never been sent away, this would have been the only life he’d ever have known. He hated the thought of that too.
But he hated even more that all of this had built a new wall between him and Dax. Hunter had to now decipher how high it was. And what it was made of.
“And how did things go with the king?” Dax asked.
The word made Hunter wince. “Strange,” Hunter replied. It was the truth. Neither of them really knew how to navigate this. “Complicated.” At least they had something in common. The loss of someone they loved.
A bit of Dax’s guard came down as his eyes lowered to the chalice in his hand. “I’m not surprised. Has he accepted you as his son?”
“Mostly, I think. It must be hard to go from no children to discovering you have one that is an adult. The imposter queen has made him wary. I can understand that.”
“You were instrumental in saving his kingdom. And his throne. That has to help.”
“As were you.”
Dax shrugged as if that detail was inconsequential. “Now that her spell on him is broken, and his faculties have returned, does he remember more?”
“Some,” Hunter replied. “We compared details. He believes it was not the intent of the Heneran to send her to my world. That may have been a last-ditch effort by the court sorcerer to save her, perhaps hide her for a time. Apparently, the sorcerer has been missing in action for a while. And the timeline matches up with the imposter’s arrival on the scene. Either he’d been killed, which meant no one was around to bring her back, or the sorcerer went with her. That seems more likely to me. She often spoke of a dear friend who lived with her and died before I was born. She was trapped there with no way to return home.” Hunter leaned back in his chair. “Dax, you’re pacing. Sit down over here.”
Dax regarded him coolly and came no closer. “Have you spoken to him about political prisoners, and possible retaliation against any members of the resistance?”
“All being reviewed. That’s what he said. Give him some time to wrap his head around all this. The man’s been in a coma for year.”
“We were trying to protect his kingdom,” Dax replied, his voice hardening.
“He knows that. And appreciates it, I think.”
“Yet no parades for those who fought her… or died.”
“Dax, stop it. It’s been one day.”
Hunter had already pushed for Zinnuvial and Quinnar. She was quickly offered a command in the royal guard, and Quinnar a position in the court. Even Corrad was poised to land something respectable after the dust settled—even if Hunter wasn’t convinced he deserved it.
Hunter could tell something was on Dax’s tongue, ready to spill out. He was probably pissed that Hunter was defending Ruzad. Thinking that Hunter had already become one of them. Dax tightened his lips and didn’t respond. Was he so accustomed to fighting that he was already picking a new fight? This time with the king? And him?
Hunter drummed his fingers on the arm of the chair for a time. The silence was painful, but he wanted to rein in his own trepidation first before he continued. There would be no turning back. “I want to talk to you about something.”
Dax stiffened. He set the chalice onto the table and lowered his eyes to his boots. He wouldn’t look at Hunter. “No need. I know what you have to say. He’s offered to send you back. To your own world.”
Hunter lifted an eyebrow. How was he always one step ahead of him? “Yes.”
“And… with the amount of witchstone that was recovered from the royal chambers, the court sorcerers can effectively not only send you back but figure out how place you back at the time you left.”
Hunter nodded. “That is what I am being told.”
Dax distractedly swooped up the chalice again and drained it. “So, back to your old life. Picking up the threads right where you left off as if none of this had ever happened.”
So… that’s what this was about. Hunter forced himself not to respond.
“I appreciate you letting me know in person,” Dax continued. He started toward the door. “I wish you well, milord.”
Hunter stood from the chair. “Dax. Wait.”
To Hunter’s surprise, Dax came to a halt. Hunter wondered what compelled him to remain. Was it that Dax wanted to hear what he had to say? Or was he following a command from the king’s son? “I need to know something. And I need you to be honest with me.”
Dax lifted his chin before turning around to face Hunter.
“The night we spent together. What did it mean to you?”
Dax’s face clouded with anger. “How can you ask that?”
“I need to hear you say it.”
Dax looked at his feet. “Very well. Not that it matters now.” His chin lowered, and he took in several long breaths. “Entering into something like that, it isn’t easy for me. I am accustomed to being alone. Prefer it actually. But you have a power about you….” He stopped and closed his eyes. “That night was a mistake.”
Hunter’s heart constricted. “I see.”
“It was a mistake,” Dax continued, “because I allowed my own heart to open to you. I gave in to feelings that I knew I shouldn’t have. And there is a price to be paid for that. But I do not regret it. That night meant everything to me and I will hold its memory forever.”
Hunter’s insides lifted as filled with helium, and he tried to restrain a smile.
“Do you love me?” he asked.
Dax’s lips disappeared into a thin white line. “That isn’t fair, Hunter.”
“Answer the question.”
He took a step forward. “It doesn’t matter. I… I can’t—won’t—return with you to your world, Hunter. I am tied here, just as you are tied to your own world. I have agreed to help rebuild what was lost. I cannot turn my back on that.”
“I’m not asking you to give any of that up,” Hunter said quietly.
Dax stared at Hunter several heartbeats, pain evident behind his eyes. Dax made a respectful bow. “I see. I misunderstood. Then, I wish you a safe journey home.” Dax turned on his heels and headed back toward the door.
“Strange, isn’t it,” Hunter said to his retreating back. “You’ve always thrived on being the one who fights alone. As a part of the resistance, you’ve been forced to be part of a team, fighting against tyranny, but in a way you’ve never really wanted to belong, have you? Not really. It’s why you took the mission to come to my world. Why you took on Quinnar’s doomed mission to sneak in here. And me? I’ve always felt more comfortable as part of a pack, a grunt in the trenches with everyone else. But now here I am. Surrounded by powerful people who all want a nugget of my time. But I’ve never felt more alone.”
Dax froze, and turned about slowly.
“The great irony, right?” Hunter continued. “I have to always find acceptance, and you need to be alone. What bothers you, I think…. No, what scares you, is that when you’re with me, you don’t want to be alone.”
Dax eyes hardened as he stared back at him. “Nothing scares me.”
Hunter chuckled inwardly. “For years, I never understood
why I’ve never been able to make relationships work. The people I dated always seemed to want to segregate me from what I loved—a team. A pack. I needed the sense of belonging, the safe comfort. And everyone seemed to be threatened by that. But with you… it is different. You provide something for me that I need. That feeling of belonging. I can belong to something bigger, but still belong to you. And you challenge me. Like no one else has done before. And I like that.”
“What are you saying?”
“I turned him down, Dax. I declined the offer.”
Dax’s head tilted to the side as if he hadn’t understood. “You’re not returning?”
“I am choosing to remain here.”
Dax’s face shifted from hurt and frustration to confusion, which almost made Hunter laugh.
“Ruzad himself asked if I would consider staying.” Hunter couldn’t call him father. Not yet. That felt too strange. “Not as his son. His council is trying to come up with a way to explain me that the public can understand. A brother maybe. Or a nephew. Heir to the throne if something were to happen, but should Ruzad have another child someday, the new child would take my place. But more importantly, Ruzad wants me to head a delegation to begin peace negotiations with the Henerans.”
Dax’s mouth hung open, and he looked as if he’d been slapped. “After everything that has happened?”
“Precisely because of what had happened, Dax. This war between Andreya and the Henerans has lasted for a century and shows no signs of ending. How long before they try something like this again? And what if they succeed next time? I agree with Ruzad—the time has come for both sides to sit at the table.”
“They are ruthless killers, Hunter. No peace will come.”
“You are not alone in believing that. His own council is afraid that the imposter’s influence is still affecting him in this decision. Which is why he wants me. I am a neutral party here, with no history or baggage to cloud my point of view.” Hunter stood and walked closer to Dax. “I told him I would do this. On one condition.”
Dax lifted one eyebrow.
“That you move in here. Into the castle. And be with me.”
“Here,” Dax repeated.
“I told him it is a package deal. You and me.”
Dax took a step closer, his head tilted to the side. “And he agreed to that?”
“He did. Without hesitation.”
Dax drifted a few steps, his legs seeming unsteady. “I was welcome here once before.”
“You are again.”
“You’re willing to give up your home?”
“I suppose, technically, I am from here. I would miss certain things. Playing rugby. Thai food. The internet. But, honestly, there’s plenty I wouldn’t miss either. But if I went back, I would always miss you.”
Dax’s eyes took on a pained and troubled look. “Hunter, I don’t think I’m suited as a courtier.”
“And I am? Look, if I’m going to take on the role of diplomat and heir, I’m going to need someone in my corner I can trust. And there’s no one in two universes that I trust more than you.”
Dax still looked troubled. Unsure.
“At this time, while Ruzad tries to build a new relationship with the Henerans, he doesn’t believe that your old post as scout would be the best idea. I’m inclined to agree. But your knowledge of them and their way of life would be invaluable to any effort during negotiations. Ruzad thinks that a role as my advisor would be better suited. If that’s what you wanted. You can even have your own apartments here in the castle if you prefer—”
“You don’t want me living with you?”
“Of course I do, you idiot. But if you’re not ready to rush into this—”
Before Hunter could finish the sentence, Dax had crossed the room. His warm full lips were pressed against his, and strong hands reached around to grip Hunter at the center of his back. Hunter pulled Dax in tighter. He inhaled Dax’s scent like a drag on a cigarette and relished in the taste of him on his tongue. He raked his hand into Dax’s hair and gripped it tight, while the other slipped under Dax’s tunic and caressed the silk-like skin of his back.
“Does this mean you accept the terms?” Hunter whispered against Dax’s lips.
He felt Dax smile, and a little puff of laughter burst into his mouth. “I need some time to think about it.”
Hunter gently bit down on Dax’s lower lip, while his hand followed the shape of Dax’s perfectly round ass. The curve of it felt like he was palming a well-inflated rugby ball.
“All right,” Dax said. “I’ve thought it over. I agree.”
“I’m not certain I believe you. You may need to work harder to convince me.”
“My afternoon is free. I can spend the rest of the day assuaging your doubts if need be.”
“It may require that. I can be hard to convince.”
Dax’s hand drifted to Hunter’s groin and his fingers traced the line of his expanding cock. “Well, you’re hard anyway.”
Hunter bent forward and scooped Dax up over his shoulder. Dax yelled out in protest, but he really didn’t put up any sustainable fight. Hunter carried him into the next chamber and threw him roughly onto the bed. Dax bounced on the mattress, arms flailing—then propped himself up on his elbows.
Hunter grabbed the heel of Dax’s boot and held it firm while Dax pulled himself free of it. He tossed the boot to the floor and ran a thumb up the arch of Dax’s naked foot. Even the shape of his foot was strong and beautiful. He bent down and kissed the ball of it, and ran his tongue up the arch. Dax’s entire body shuddered. “You don’t have any intention of sneaking off again while I’m asleep, do you?”
“Your Highness,” Dax said, as Hunter removed his other boot, “if the prince were to order it, I would remain naked in his bed until the end of days.”
“Consider it so ordered,” Hunter said with a laugh, and lowered himself over Dax.
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MASON THOMAS began his writing journey at the age of thirteen when his personal hero, Isaac Asimov, took the time to respond to a letter he wrote him. He’s been writing stories ever since. Today he is ecstatic and grateful that there is a place at the speculative table for stories with strong gay protagonists.
Mason, by all accounts, is still a nerdy teenager, although his hairline and waistline indicate otherwise. When his fingers are not pounding furiously at a keyboard, they can usually be found holding a video-game controller, plucking away at an electric guitar, or shaking a twenty-sided die during a role-playing game. Mason will take any opportunity to play dress-up, whether through cosplay, Halloween, or a visit to a Renaissance Faire. He pays the bills by encouraging middle school students to make a mess in his science classroom. He lives in Chicago with his endlessly patient husband, who has tolerated his geeky nonsense for over two decades. Mason and his husband have two unruly cats who graciously allow them to share the same space.