Lyer & Aluraios | Dak and Ferel
"...I'm aware that you wish to open up your lands to grazing," Dakram's feet rung out on the stone corridor as the small group approached the exit from the slightly more private discussion rooms into the more formal and lively center of the Holm. "but that whole section is grazing ground already, and this enterprise of yours would damage the area too much. We don't want to ruin all the land for the future by overuse."
The slightly overweight man, the faded blue formal robes looking as if they'd not seen daylight for years, and winged insects for much longer, bowed slightly at the waist, skurrying to keep up with the much younger and fitter man. "You've seen my figures, my lord, and I fail to see how dedicating a few fields to raising cattle..."
"When we already have a surfeit of the creatures." the Mage Lord put in, cutting the petitoner short, before turning to the third member of the trio smoothly. "Ferel, go and take my evening meal to my room please? I'm sure Lireta will have had it prepared for a while by now." He turned back, the tight smile turning colder as he opened the small door cut in the huge decorative panels that reached to the ceiling that passed as the official doors, the candlelight glinting off the dragons, unicorns, vines, sunfolk and the other usual fantastical carved things the artist had fancied would look good in the pale gold wood. "If you wish to negotiate with your neighbour, Lord Germot I believe, about sharing space then I have no problem with that. But I cannot condone more land of the Straight to be transformed into pure grasslands."
He took a deep breath, gathering himself back under control. This was getting ridiculous. Subtly hadn't work, delegating the problem to someone else to solve didn't work and he didn't want to insult anyone, and now it seemed a straightforward 'no' wasn't going to work with this bubbleheaded idiot either. He took a little relief in the receding paces, knowing his manservant would have the meal in his room ready for when he escaped and be ready to sooth his irritation and annoyance.
"I have tried that, my lord, he said that it would overburden the land also, but I suspect," his voice dropped conspiritorally and Dakram almost groaned audiably, "he just wants to keep the market to himself and the other landholders."
Dakram shook his head, "I cannot believe that of Lord Germot, indeed, he very specifically detailed the land use with the Records when he extended his herd last time." Very obviously and slowly emphasising the word 'Records' he was relieved when the implied insult wasn't noticed, and instead realisation bloomed slowly on the pasty face.
He felt a slight twidge of guilt at thrusting this man at the Records, but that was part of their duties, to keep track of the land use, the buildings and various other statistics that somehow interlinked to keep his land functioning.
"My lord must excuse me," the man murmured, his face twisting in concentration as his brain finally figured out where the best place to actually plead his case might be. "Maybe I should visit them while I am here and ask their advice on this issue."
Dakram ignored the minor slight, more impaitent to get rid of him than to call him up on discourtesy. "I feel they will probably be more familar with the exact legalities of your request." he nodded, glancing around for one of the many servants in the Holm. "Escort Lord Trayker to Records." As he spoke he caught the eye of a passing boy who didn't look that rushed to be anywhere from his face. The boy bowed and the Mage Lord had to fight back a smile as the servant immediately started to lead the other off with a brisk efficiency before the lord knew what was happening.
The smile forced its way onto his face as he strode back through another almost insignificant door, this time a lot less decorated, and leading directly to his quarters. He took care to school the face into a thoughtful look, however, one that would make anyone hesitate from interupting him. Not that many people would interrupt him in this dim semi-private run, lit at far intervals by untended candles, a few having worn to the base, even if he wasn't the Lord of the Holm. Especially as he had no doubt everyone was well aware he'd been cooped up with a train of idiotic complaints and pleas all day and would not be in the best of moods.
Slipping out of the run, running an automatic check on the wards on it, and past the guarded doorway next to it into his private quarters, nodding approval at the alert and well ordered guards in his peace colors of soft yellow and pale grey before closing the door behind him and closing his eyes as he finally let his face show his annoyance show to the empty room.
"My lord?" Ferel's voice was formal as he stepped out of his adjoining room, one of the privilages he enjoyed as Dakram's personal manservant, waiting until Dakram made a subtle gesture with one hand, lifting it and crossing two fingers as it turned palm down to raise the tight shielding around their rooms. Then his bland gaze faded abruptly and was replaced with a slight worry, and concern as he moved across the room to take the slightly taller man in his arms and move the unresisting but tense body to a larger couch to sit down.
"It's a good thing you only joined me for the last hour." Dakram said wearily, forcing a wry smile to transform his still slightly annoyed face as he leant his head back to look into winter-green eyes which were fixed on him as he sighed, curling into the warm embrace. "You'd have ended up even more tense than you are now."
Ferel raised a sandy eyebrow that arched gently over his emerald gaze. Protectively he wrapped the mage in his arms, stroking the dark hair, knowing his lover would feel just how tense he'd got from that long hour by the control and pressure of the massaging fingers. "I don't know if I could get more tense." He said, shaking his head with a loving smile as Dakram's eyes lit with their own concern. "Having to listen to that dump was bad enough, reading your face and knowing what you were feeling didn't help though. I wanted to kick that self-important idiot out of the Holm."
"I don't have to call you next time." Dakram's tone was almost diffident as he spoke hesitantly. "I only wanted you there so I had some measure of support and you'd understand my mood afterwards, I know it was selfish but..."
Ferel chuckled softly, causing an embarrassed rose flush to tinge the tanned cheeks below, leaning down to kiss the high forehead, tenderly stroking the black tempest away, then blowing on the revealed smooth skin softly, his own tanned hair flopping loosely over the blushing face. The red arcs faded rapidly into a hint of a smile on the slightly ticklish lord's mouth.
"Lireta was pressing me into helping with laundry duty as soon as the gossip about you being busy for the entire afternoon reached her," the manservant muttered with an exaggerated sigh of annoyance. "It was a relief to get away. And you /know/ I'm happy to be near you for any reason. Though torture with hot iron would have been preferable to listening to that dump." He grinned, wrapping his limbs around and between Dakram's in reassurance and the need to be closer to this powerful man who had to follow all of his many responsibilities and needs - except his own.
"Thank you," the mage-lord simply murmured, resting his head on his own lord's chest, ignoring the itchiness of the grey silk embroidery of his badge on the breast to nuzzle against the pale yellow tunic. Closing his eyes wearily he pulled himself up to rest his head on the slim shoulder, looping his arms around Ferel's waist and feeling his partner adjust his hold in response to the arms now wrapped around his slender frame.
"Get on the bed and I'll give you a proper massage." Ferel spoke abruptly but softly as the tension in Dakram's shoulders ebbed, leaving the lower tension more obvious. He pushed Dakram away before he could get comfortable, a hint of an order in his voice and a loving smile appeared on his pale lips as Dakram eagerly obeyed.
Getting up swiftly from Ferel's embrace, untangling legs and arms with the ease of long practise, Dakram threw him a grateful look over his shoulder as he moved over to the large bed. He almost fell forward onto the soft brown summer blankets as the final bit of stress nergy gave way to tiredness. He closed his eyes for a moment, before the bed dipped further as Ferel mounted it and carefully straddled his waist.
The mage-lord turned his head around slightly to see the younger man in his accustom position, wriggling minutely in pleasure and teasing before Ferel guided his head back to the centre with a soft tug on his short black strands.
"I can't work on you if you keep twisting to looking up at me." Ferel chastised, wishing he dared remove both his and Dak's tunic and undershirt, but the moon god hadn't even started to grace the evening sky, and there was a good chance that someone would have some reason to interrupt his lover's rest. Even while he longed to let the entire Holm know about himself and Dakram, he wouldn't, couldn't, undermine the mage-lord's authority and his own slim power.
He couldn't risk losing Dakram, Dakram's heritage, and maybe both their lives.
"At that point I don't think I'd have cared if you'd told Lord Trayker to go jump in the dump in the stables." Dakram murmured jokingly, his tone wry as Ferel gently started to rub his shoulders through the soft loose-woven yellow, almost hawken gold, tunic and paler lemon shirt.
Embroidered with gold silk in much more detail than his own, for all their formal look, Ferel knew the clothes were actually quite comfortable. He'd worn them a few times - in private - mainly when his partner had had to make some dozen heartwrenching decisions about lands, marriages and the other hundreds of things his people relied on him to decide. Then Dakram just wanted him to be his lord, a reassurance to his eyes of what Ferel already was to his heart.
Ferel chuckled, slipping his hands under the loose undershirt and running them over the wide back, ignoring the slight shiver at their coolness as he let them drift down the mage-lord's side, trailing his fingertips lightly over the familiar skin. "While that'd solve one problem..." he answered, moving their hands to the tense muscles and working them with ease, and feeling them relax under the pressure and gradually dawning warmth. Both of the pair had practised their technique for almost ten years now, although for different reasons, Ferel to relax and soothe his love, Dakram for slightly more erotic and sensual purposes.
The mage-lord closed his eyes again under the ministrations, letting his head drift into the pillow and blessing the privileges of ranks that gave him the soft underfeather bedding.
© Clare Selley 2009
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