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Healing	By : NLDCat Category: A through F > The Black Jewel Trilogy Views: 2065 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own The Black Jewel Trilogy book series. They are the property of Anne Bishop. I do not make any money from this story .

Chapter List
- 1-Healing
- 1
Author’s note: This was an Easter gift to myself and is completely AU. I own Tavrik and the court he serves in. All comments are welcome except those complaining about who he ends up with. This was purely for fun and is not intended as an insult to any of Anne Bishop’s character’s or the books she writes.

Healing

            He rolls over on his side and hopes that the burning pain will lessen enough to let him go to sleep. He doubts that it will but he could only hope for a miracle. The damn healer had only made sure that he wasn’t going to bleed to death before releasing him to his room. It had been a bitch to clean the blood and semen off him himself all the while the wounds hurting like nothing else. Tavrik grits his teeth and refuses to scream. He would not bring anything else down on himself. Being amusement for the Queen he served was enough. Closing his eyes, he slowly pulls his knees closer to his chest hoping to find a comfortable position. He ends up staring at the wall for the rest of the night.
            Morning comes and with it, another summoning to that room. Rousing himself, he gets dressed struggling to hide the pain every movement caused to his lower body. He finally exits and walks into that room with the air of one who has not been used in such a rough manner that he wants to curl up in a ball and stay there for a while. “You summoned me, Lady?” he asks politely hoping that whatever had happened yesterday had been more than enough to satisfy her sadistic needs.
            “How are you feeling today, Tavrik?” she asks. Her voice was too soft, too gentle. It was a trap. Tavrik just isn’t sure what will happen if he answers either way.
            “Sore, but that is to be expected,” he answers deciding for a partial lie.
            “Get much sleep?”
            “No, Lady,” he answers.
            She smiles. “Good.”
            He could figure that was her answer. She seemed to enjoy torturing him more than anyone in her court though he cannot figure out why. He had been doing everything in his power not to get noticed enough to be worthy of summoning. He tried because he couldn’t stand how she ruled. “Is there anything you needed, Lady?” he asks trying not to sound as annoyed as he felt. If she wanted nothing other than a status report after she’d watched her First Circle of Guards have fun with him, he was going to be sorely vexed.
            “You sound bored, Prince. Do I need to find suitable entertainment for you again?”
            He goes cold at the thought. “No, Lady, I can manage to find my own entertainment just fine without your help.”
            She looks at him with a cold, cruel smile that was normal on the faces of the Hayllian queens. “I don’t think so.”
            He could guarantee that whatever was coming next was going to be just as unpleasant as the day before. He just isn’t sure his body would be up for being penetrated by a male as sore as it was. However, the doors behind him open and he watches her First, Second, AND Third Circle Guards file in. He looks back at her, horror slowly filling his eyes. She could NOT mean what he thought she did. Darkness, he’d never survive this. She looks to her right. “Would you please see to Prince Tavrik while I have a talk with the guards?” she asks the healer. The woman gives a vindictive smile before stepping forward and grabbing his wrist. He is dragged from the room before he can even try and protest this.
            The woman brings him into a nearby room and shoves him into a seat seemingly satisfied at his wince of pain. She then goes about fiddling with a different assortment of things before setting a glass in front of him. “Drink it,” she says coldly, “Or our Lady will summon her Fourth and Fifth Circle as well.”
            Knowing that she would do so, he picks up the cup and downs the concoction. It takes only a moment for both the Sufframate and the healing brew to take affect. He shudders and wishes that somehow, he’d killed himself before letting this happen…again. The fire that courses down him is relentless and it is the only thing that makes it possible for her to drag him back into that room and cuff him to that bed by herself. He grips the chains and presses his forehead against the headboard praying that it’s fast. Feeling his pants get undone and dragged down his hips, he closes his eyes. This was not what he had signed up for when he’d been in this Court. This is NOT what he’d signed up for.
            If he had thought that the pain of the previous day was bad, it is nothing compared to the way he’s treated. They make him want it, crave it, and beg for it. Feeling like a whore is NOT how he wants to be remembered in this court. However, the Sufframate is too fierce, their touches too gentle. Over his own pleading, he can hear the woman laughing.
            When he’s finally left alone in that room, he’s shaking and at the point of breaking down in tears. Rolling to his side he pulls his knees up to his chest and presses his face into them. ‘No,’ he thinks, ‘No, no, no, no, no.’
            “Well, safe to say, you are a mess,” a voice comments from the doorway. He slowly raises his head to see the Captain of the Guard, his older brother, and the only one who hadn’t participated.
            “What do you want?” he asks tiredly. He really didn’t feel up to a lecture right now. Not when he felt so disgustingly dirty.
            “I want to know if you learned your lesson yet?”
            “What lesson is that?” he demands.
            “That no one cares how YOU want the territory run.”
            For a moment, the words are meaningless but it doesn’t take him too long before he realizes the truth. “YOU said something didn’t you?”
            “Your desires for the old ways are at odds to our Queen. She had to be told. You have no one to blame but yourself for this.”
            For the first time in his life, Tavrik really could not stand Warlord Princes. Arrogant bastards they were, always thinking that just because they were considered harsher males, they could do whatever they wanted. “Go to hell!” he spits venomously.
            “Now, now, there is no need for that,” his brother answers mildly, “I am just here to try and keep this from happening again…though I cannot see that happening as my men seem to think you are an enjoyable way to pass the time. Far better than any of the women they’ve had in the past.”
            The insult infuriates him but he manages to remember who he was dealing with. His brother was a Warlord Prince…he was ranked only as a Prince. There would be no contest of who would die in a fight. He turns his head away. “You’ve had your say, brother,” he spits, “Now go away.”
            “With that attitude…my men are going to be seeing a lot of you in the near future, Prince.” Refusing to answer, Tavrik just listens to the sounds of him leaving. It was just like his brother. That man had cared for nothing but getting a high position in Court. He hopes that one day he’ll have to answer for his choices.
            He is finally released to return to his room and does so. He takes a bath but knows not to stay in there too long as he would start peeling his skin. Feeling no better than when he had gone in, he redresses and curls up beneath his blankets. He then summons a small box and opens it to look at the two jewels nestled inside. He was birthright Purple Dusk descended to Sapphire…and an insult to the power he wielded. Swallowing, he closes the box and vanishes it. He didn’t deserve those jewels…not someone as weak and ineffective as he was.
            He is almost asleep when he feels the cold rage sweeping through the building and sits straight up. What was going on? He is suddenly hit with a summons so hard that it is impossible to resist and finds himself before those doors before he realizes it. It hits again, and he opens the door and enters. He is almost halfway across the room before he forces his feet to plant where they would. He was NOT going near that bed again. When he turns in that direction, he feels himself go cold at the sight he beholds. He can only wonder what Jaenelle Angelline was doing in the court with the High Lord and his two sons. “Come closer, please,” Jaenelle says.
            “I would rather not,” he answers, “Two days on that thing and I am going NO WHERE near it.”
            “Prince, just do as you are told,” Daemon tells him.
            Tavrik shakes his head. “No, I am NOT going anywhere NEAR that thing.”
            Jaenelle steps away from it and crosses the room to him. It never occurs to him to step back away from her, something in her Sapphire gaze told him that her anger was not directed at him. “They hurt you…why?” she asks.
            “Because the Queen of this territory didn’t like being reminded of how Queens used to rule. She didn’t like to be told that she has forgotten what it meant to be Blood.”
            Jaenelle reaches up and gently touches the side of his face. He flinches slightly. “Relax, Prince, I am not going to hurt you. You’ve done nothing wrong.”
            “That, Lady, is a matter of perspective,” he mutters.
            “That maybe so, but I am telling you that I am not going to hurt you because you haven’t done anything wrong.”
            He closes his eyes and wills himself to relax enough to accept her touch. It was so hard. All the years of having to deal with the women of this court had made him leery of letting them do this. However, when he feels her brush gently against his barriers it doesn’t alarm him quite so much though it takes a few times before he’ll open them and let her see what happened on that bed both days.
            When she pulls away and he opens his eyes to face her, the rage that has filled her eyes makes them seem black. “I am going to kill them,” she says, her voice filled with the darkness of midnight, “They had no right to do that to you.”
            “Some would argue,” he says softly, sadly.
            “None who remember what it is to be Blood!” she returns heatedly. He looks away not being able to argue that point.
            “Why did you come, Lady?” he finally asks, “I cannot imagine it was just because they were mistreating a guard no one will remember…not for any good reasons anyway.”
            “A birthright Purple Dusk jeweled Prince who has descended to Sapphire is not a nobody,” Jaenelle responds, “and for your information, Prince Tavrik, I was told there was still a Queen who hadn’t learned the price for forgetting how to rule.”
            He manages a smile that is both bitter and filled with self-loathing. “The Darkness wastes such power on one such as me,” he tells her, “but…I appreciate you taking care of her.” A moment later, the room starts to spin and he is suddenly dizzy. He reaches up and presses his fingers into his temples to see if he could get the room to straighten. It doesn’t help and he sinks down to his knees dizzy. A moment later, he crumples forward, unconscious.
            He wakes up in a completely different room, on a softer bed. Groggily, it takes him a few minutes to realize that but once he does, he sits up sharply. Looking around, he realizes that he doesn’t recognize anything. Slowly, he slides out from under the covers and shivers slightly as his bare feet hit the cold floor. Cautiously, he steps to the door and looks down the hallway. Recognizing nothing, he slides out of the room and quietly shuts the door. Picking a random hallway, he walks down it ending at the cracked doors of a large dining room…with a meal going on in full swing. He recognizes two of the people off the bat and surmises that Jaenelle had brought him home. Why he has no idea. “Do you always hide outside of rooms?” a voice asks from behind him making him tense all the way up his body.
            “I-I…” he says turning to face Lucivar Yaslana and not knowing what to say to the Warlord Prince.
            He shakes his head and smiles in fond amusement. “Come on, I am sure you’re hungry…and Jaenelle will enjoy disrupting the household with the announcement of another addition,” he says, his voice gentling as he realizes that he’s scaring him. Tavrik nods his head and lets Lucivar bring him in by his arm gently. “Oh, Cat, he’s awake,” he says catching not just Jaenelle’s attention but everyone else’s as well. Tavrik wishes he had just stayed in that room.
            Jaenelle smiles warmly. “Good morning, Prince Tavrik,” she greets, “I am sorry that you had such a distressing awakening but…I felt it would be better for you to spend time away from that Court.”
            Feeling his mouth too dry to actually come up with a response, he manages to nod. Lucivar maneuvers him over to the table and gently pushes him into a chair. “This one is skittish,” a woman comments.
            “Yes. This is Prince Tavrik. You will be kind to him or I will not be happy,” Jaenelle responds, “and for the moment being, those with a status of Warlord Prince are NOT to approach him alone.”
            He swallows seeing the confusion in the males’ eyes at this command. However, it is easier to swallow than the rage in Daemon, Saetan, and Lucivar’s. “Lady?” one of them asks tentatively.
            “It is not my place to tell you,” she says curtly, “just remember that you are not to approach him by yourself. Whatever the reason is, you will abide by this.”
            “Yes, Lady,” the male’s chorus. Tavrik looks down at his plate and struggles to calm his emotions. It was embarrassing to have that made a stipulation though he doubts he’d be able to handle it if it wasn’t said. He’d shown that inability when Lucivar had come up upon him standing by the door. He suddenly is startled out of this as he gets a plate set before him. He looks at the woman who set it down.
            She smiles. “You look like you haven’t eaten a good meal in a while,” she says. Underneath that, he clearly hears the threat.
            He smiles meekly. “Yes, Lady,” he murmurs. She gives him another smile and disappears into the kitchen. He looks down at the plate and wonders how in the world he was going to manage to get all that food in his system. However, he feels his stomach loosen enough to tell him that he was starving. Deciding that now was as good a time as any to get something in him, he goes about slowly eating what she had placed in front of him.
            “Eating it is less of a fight than fighting with Mrs. Beale,” Saetan comments.
            “I could tell,” Tavrik responds, “She is a frightening woman.”
            “That is an understatement,” Daemon comments, “So we just do as she says. You don’t lose body parts that way.” Tavrik doesn’t doubt that for a moment. It doesn’t take him long to actually finish the plate, which surprises him.
            “I told you that you hadn’t had a decent meal,” the woman comments appearing at his elbow.
            “No, I cannot say I have…especially not one so well made,” he responds. He inwardly smiles seeing her blush.
            “Well, thank you, Prince, I am glad you approve,” she tells him.
            “Well, obviously he knows a good cook when he meets one,” Jaenelle comments.
            “I would hope so…but then most of the males who live here think the same way.”
            “It’s definitely a start to a man’s heart,” Tavrik comments. She grins at this.
            Morning goes well and he wanders around familiarizing himself with the landscape. It suited him better than having to deal with the tension rising in the house. Something was going on and it wasn’t good. He doesn’t know if it’s because of him or what but he could barely breath in there. His footsteps take him to a small pond and he sits beside it before staring into it’s waters. He cannot bear the sight of his reflection and squeezes his eyes shut. Damn it all to hell…he shouldn’t have walked away from the first day. He feels the tears welling up and struggles to keep them at bay. He was NOT going to break down like this. He was stronger than that. He had to be stronger than that or he was going to fall apart and probably right into the Twisted Kingdom. Unfortunately, no matter how hard he struggles, he loses the fight and the tears spill. He pulls his knees to his chest and starts sobbing into them.
            He doesn’t notice anyone approaching him, he’s far too miserable. A hand on his shoulder is not enough to catch his attention. He hardly even notices being gently pulled into a strong pair of arms and enfolded by a pair of wings. He’s lulled to sleep by a soft voice humming without ever realizing that he was just cradled by one of the most feared Warlord Princes ever ringed. Lucivar carefully stands up still holding Tavrik in his arms. He walks back inside the keep feeling the anger brimming from his father, brother, and Jaenelle. ‘He’s cried himself out,’ he sends out to the three of them. That gets the three of them to him faster than anything.
            “Where was he?” Jaenelle asks.
            “Out by the pond,” Lucivar answers, “I don’t think he even realized I was there. He’s so fragile right now.”
            “I know. He’ll slip into the Twisted Kingdom if he doesn’t find something to ground him,” Jaenelle answers sadly, “He’s upset with himself more than anyone.”
            “He did nothing wrong,” Saetan says softly.
            “No but…the first day, they raped him…the second, they made him want it, crave it. He’s having trouble living with that,” Jaenelle responds.
            “How are we going to keep him from making that final descent?” Lucivar asks.
            “I do not know. He already believes himself unworthy of his jewels. I don’t know if there is anything to keep him here.”
            Lucivar looks down at the male in his arms. He was beautiful…in a very delicate way. “It seems a waste of power,” he says softly, “and a waste of a good Prince.”
            “He may find something to hold onto but…until he comes to terms with himself…he’s always going to teeter at the edge of the Twisted Kingdom,” Jaenelle tells him, “but…take him to bed. I am not sure he wants to wake up curled in your arms, however comfortable you are making it for him.”
            He gives her a rather unpleasant look before doing as bade and tucking Tavrik in. He pushes the male’s long black hair behind his ears and smiles sadly. “Not everyone is out to get you, Prince,” he murmurs softly, “Not everyone enjoys watching you break.” He walks out of the room and closes the door.
            “He is not going to heal like this,” Daemon comments leaning against a wall.
            “I don’t know what needs healing most,” Jaenelle responds, “There is so much wrong with him.”
            “His brother betrayed him…that definitely didn’t help,” Lucivar mutters.
            “No, I can definitely say that definitely didn’t help. Only time will tell what he will decide. And may the Darkness have some mercy on his decision,” she says softly, sadly. Lucivar nods before looking one last time at the door that contained Tavrik.
            When Tavrik wakes up, he realizes that he’s been moved and bits and pieces put themselves together of the previous day making his cheeks heat up. Lucivar had actually drawn him to him and he’d not managed to freak out. He blames it on his slowly spiraling emotions and leaves it at that. He slowly sits up and draws his knees to his chest before resting his head on them. He had to stop this. He wasn’t going to let that bitch…or his brother destroy him like this. He slowly gets out of bed and goes and showers to make himself feel better before summoning his hairbrush and his clothes. He brushes his wet hair before pulling it back into a ponytail and looks at the clothes strewn out upon his bed. He goes through them and puts them in two piles. After it is all sorted, he chooses an outfit from one of the piles and summons a bag into which he puts the other pile. He’d burn them later on. Looking at himself in the mirror and deciding that he at least looked decent, he heads out of the room and towards the dining hall. He’d eat and then return to his room to put his clothes away and summon in some personal affects. If he had any say about it, he wouldn’t be going back to that court. There was nothing left there except memories that he didn’t want to relive over and over again.
            He walks into breakfast going on in full swing and manages a smile when Jaenelle grins seeing him. “Good morning, Prince,” she greets.
            “Good morning, Lady,” he responds.
            “How are you feeling?”
            “A little better,” he admits, “but there are always going to be things that I wish had been different.”
            “When you have endured what you have, I can honestly agree with that sentiment.”
            He gives a sad smile. Wishing things were different was never going to bring back what he had lost thanks to that miserable excuse for a woman and his brother. He can only wonder if there was anything that was going to help make the pain lessen…or give him the reassurance he so desperately needed to know that he had every right to the power he was given. He sits down at the end of the table and looks at the plate that appears. He felt hungry but…his stomach had tightened upon entering that he’s not sure what he was going to be able to actually get down. He closes his eyes and struggles to figure out what had made him so nervous so quickly because he knows he’d been fine at the door. He feels the thrum and realizes what it was. He was around others who were jeweled and yet refused to wear or use his own. It had been so long since he’d felt a steady flow of jewel strength that it was making something deep in him ache for what he was denying himself. He takes a deep breath and lets it out trying to steady himself and push back up the walls he’d made for this. They’d come crashing down when his bitch of a queen decided to play with him.
            It isn’t easy. Everything in him rebels against the thought of pushing away the need for that power. It was like locking away a part of him but…he felt he was better off without it. Aside from Jaenelle’s words the night she’d met him, no one thought he’d deserved what the Darkness had granted him. A moment later, he feels another power pulsating against him making it impossible for him to put them back up. He turns his head and looks at Jaenelle who’s sapphire eyes are filled with a rage so deep it hurts. “Are you trying to shatter your own jewels, Prince?” she asks. That definitely stops all conversation and makes him the center of attention.
            “I don’t want them,” he whispers unable to look away from her, “What is the point of having it if no one thinks the Darkness should be wasting such gifts on you?”
            The temperature drops considerably. “Who is it that keeps twisting this dagger deeper into your soul? You are no longer there and yet…yet you continue to fall into whatever hole they were digging for you. What is it that you need to hear before you are going to let them die, Tavrik?”
            He closes his eyes as he feels tears fill them. “My mother, at my birthright ceremony, commented that it would have been better if I had not gotten anything at all then have power wasted on such a pitiful excuse for a blood male. This comes from the fact that her pride and joy was a Warlord Prince…and that I…well, you know what I am. When I made my offering to the Darkness and received my Sapphire jewel…” he shakes his head and opens his golden eyes that are swimming with tears. “I don’t want them…I just don’t want them.”
            Feeling the rage deepen is not what he had expected as a reaction from Jaenelle. He’d thought a lot of things would happen…not her becoming more furious with the passing moments. When he feels male anger enough to match…he realizes that either Daemon, Saetan, or Lucivar or a combination of the three were just as infuriated. He only wonders what it was they were mad at. Finally, Jaenelle gets her anger under control enough to speak. “Your mother is an idiot,” she finally manages to hiss through her teeth, “Your family are nothing but idiots…your QUEEN is nothing but an idiot. There is NOTHING wrong with your RANK! Further more, there is nothing wrong with YOU! If that woman cannot see what strength her youngest son possesses, then she shouldn’t have been a mother. Being a Warlord Prince does NOT make a male better suited for the jewels! If I ever meet the woman, I will kill her where she stands!”
            “It would be a waste,” he whispers softly though he knows she can hear him. “It wasn’t merely that…if it was, it wouldn’t hurt so much. I know what I want isn’t normal, natural, or acceptable…I just…” Gods, why did it have to hurt so much? The room drops a few more degrees and he knows it’s not merely Jaenelle who is losing their tenuous hold on their temper.
            “What is it then that makes her think you aren’t worthy of your jewels, Prince?” Daemon asks, softly, gently. It was the voice of one you could tell all your secrets to and know they would be kept. Why he was using it on him was beyond him but…he was too hurt to wonder if this was a trap.
            “You should have guessed,” he answers bitterly.
            Daemon cocks his head and looks at him for a moment. “You like men, don’t you?”
            He cannot meet that gaze unable and incapable of waiting to see the reproach in them. Darkness knew he’d had enough of that to last him fifteen lifetimes. “Yes,” he whispers, “Yes, I do.” The temperature in the room is so cold, it should be snowing.
            “Come with me, Prince,” Saetan says standing up. Realizing that this conversation had gone far enough into way too personal, Tavrik slowly manages to get himself to his feet. He’s surprised to see that Daemon and Lucivar follow Jaenelle when she rises. The High Lord brings them into the study, closes the door and places a Black shield on it. “I think they have gotten enough of a personal matter that they shouldn’t snoop…but just in case…” he shrugs.
            “Sit,” Jaenelle tells Tavrik pointing to a large but comfortable chair. He does without further complaint. He pulls his knees to his chest and presses his head against them. “Tavrik, look at me.” It was a soft command and he couldn’t refuse her this. He slowly looks over his knees, tears spilling. “Prince…”
            “Please…just don’t…please…I can’t…I can’t hear it again,” he whispers. Gods anything but hearing her repeat what he’d already heard from those people who had found out. Jaenelle crosses around the desk to where he’s sitting and gently cups the sides of his face.
            “Prince Tavrik, listen to me. There is NOTHING wrong with what you desire. Whoever told you that there was something wrong with you…are heartless,” she murmurs gently stroking the tears away, “You are far too powerful to let these people kill you.”
            “The only reason I got in the court I did was because my brother took pity on me! I wouldn’t have been welcome any other way!” His voice is cracking and he feels like his heart is doing the same. “Dammit, I didn’t DO anything to deserve this!”
            “No,” Saetan tells him calmly, “No, you didn’t.”
            More tears fall and he squeezes his eyes shut again. Darkness, he was falling apart at the seams. It was at this point, he feels his own jewels pulse against him. It had been so long since he had felt their power…their strength… “Let it in, Prince,” Lucivar murmurs, “You need it.” He closes his eyes and lets down his walls around his jewels. The power that thrums through him spills like a flood.
            “Mother Night,” Saetan murmurs, “How long has he been holding them back?”
            “Years,” Jaenelle responds watching him press his face into his knees and shudder.
            “I really, really want to hurt the people who forced him into this,” Lucivar snarls, “There is no need for his mindset.”
            “Yes, well, if you grow up in the wrong environment, then you are in danger of being twisted,” Saetan says softly.
            The Eyrien Warlord Prince clenches his fists and lets out his breath in a slow hiss. He really, really was going to kill everyone associated with Tavrik’s family. “Are you alright, brother? You sound so angry,” Daemon comments.
            “What they have done to him is disgusting!”
            “Yes, but…well…you sound like someone who cares more…than most people,” he says cautiously, obviously testing the waters.
            “What are you insinuating, Daemon?” Luvicar demands.
            “You sound like you like him.”
            Lucivar’s expression darkens as he looks at him. “I beg your pardon?” he snarls, his golden eyes flaring with rage.
            “My mistake, it’s just…it’s been a long time since you sounded like that.”
            Tavrik swallows hearing the conversation and hoping that Lucivar’s temper will not become worse. However, the moment the Eyrien sees his expression his eyes soften. “You shouldn’t deny yourself what is rightfully yours, Prince,” he murmurs softly as he steps back in front of him and gently touches his cheek. Tavrik finds his eyes fluttering shut at the male’s touch. “You also shouldn’t deny yourself what you want. What makes your heart content is no one’s business but your own.”
            “You say that now,” Tavrik comments, “but with seeing how you just reacted to your brother, I doubt that would be your response if a male came up to you and said they were attracted to YOU.”
            Lucivar snorts softly. “I don’t think anyone is going to do that so…I guess that won’t be a problem.”
            Months pass and Winsol approaches putting the Keep in a frenzy of delight. Gifts were being found that were suitable for all those dear to their hearts. Tavrik especially is looking for a suitable gift…for a Warlord Prince who was probably going to flip out. He arrives back at the store he’d gone to in an attempt to check on his Winsol gift to Lucivar. When he gets there, he finds Roxie standing at the counter picking up a familiar item. “Thank you. The Prince was helping me get it perfectly right. He’ll love it,” she tells him.
            Feeling the pain spill through him, he turns and flees from the store. How the hell had that bitch found out? How the HELL had she gotten his gift? He stumbles against the wall of another building and struggles to hold back his tears. Damn it all! He’d worked so hard on getting that gift perfect. The Darkness didn’t seem kind to him at all.
            No one notices how mournful he looks the day of Winsol, so hooked up in their own cheer. Even Daemon looks less than cold and Jaenelle is laughing. Tavrik watches them and waits for that woman, the woman who seemed to do nothing but try and get into Lucivar’s pants. Tavrik has no idea how he’ll react to watching it. He’s not sure he’ll be able to survive it. He lets everyone else have their fun without letting them see his dismayed expression. When Roxie approaches Lucivar, he feels himself go cold. He’d never forgive her for this. “Lucivar, I got this for you,” Roxie tells him, “It took forever to get it correct.”
            Reluctantly, Lucivar takes it and opens the box. His eyes widen at the sight of the Eyrien war blade nestled within it. Gently, he picks it up and slides the sheath off. On the blade it is written

            Never forget who you are. You are an Ebon Gray jeweled Warlord Prince. You are the High Lord’s son. You ARE Lucivar Yaslana.

            He looks at the blade intently and Tavrik finds his heart clenching painfully. He had worked so hard to find the right words to write on the blade. It seemed a waste of a blade now. “How did you find the Eyrien words for this?” he asks.
            “I had to ask around,” Roxie tells him simply, “It was worth it for you, Lucivar.”
            Tavrik’s fists clench at his sides. “No,” he whispers, “Darkness, no!” He sees Daemon look at him and looks away. This wasn’t right. He’d spent all that money and all that time to get it right and now had to watch this simpering bitch give it to him. He turns away unable and incapable of watching something he had wanted to give be given by such a foul, evil wretch.
            He only gets a few steps before he feels a hand on his shoulder. “What is wrong?” Daemon asks.
            “Nothing,” he whispers bitterly, “absolutely nothing.”
            “Something is wrong, Prince.”
            He cannot swallow the bitter words. “That gift is MINE! I should have given it to him!”
            “Tavrik…” Daemon says.
            “Don’t worry about it,” he whispers defeated. There was nothing worth doing anymore. It was obvious that nothing was going to go his way and he wasn’t going to get a break. His heart clenches painfully in his chest. He shouldn’t have fallen for the Warlord Prince in the first place but he couldn’t help it. He doesn’t wait for Daemon to respond before hurrying in the opposite direction. He finds himself in a pub before he knows where his feet have carried him. He decides it is the least of the evils he could choose and takes a seat at the bar. The woman working looks at him.
            “You know most people are outside enjoying Winsol,” she comments.
            “I know,” he says softly, his voice cracking.
            She walks over to him. “Honey, what happened to you? You look like a mess,” she comments looking him over.

            “I spent a lot of time, energy, and money on a gift for someone important to me…and someone else managed to find it and give it to them,” he responds sounding as broken as he felt, “I know that I have no right to feel this way about him but…Darkness…I should have just killed myself when I had the chance.”
            “You like a male?” she asks.
            “Yes,” he whispers miserably.
            She smiles sadly, “I am sorry, young man. I can see how hard it is on you. Unfortunately, I don’t think drinking is going to help…but I’ll get you something without alcohol.”
            He manages a small smile. “Thank you, lady. I am not sure it would be such a good idea if I drank, either.”
            She sets a warm glass of milk down in front of him. “This is what my boy used to drink when he was upset. It helped,” she tells him.
            He slowly sips it and realizes that it did have a rather calming affect on him. “I just…I finally let myself take a plunge and get him something even though I know…A Warlord Prince of his stature has no reason to see anything in a male…let alone someone only ranked a Prince. I just…he’s so powerful…so beautiful…so strong-willed,” he sighs.
            “I take it you didn’t have a good reaction from the people around you when you admitted to liking men?”
            “Oh no,” he says shuddering, “before I was brought into Jaenelle’s Court…well, lets just say it wasn’t pleasant for me.”
            “So you serve, Witch?” the woman asks, her eyes losing a lot of the hostility they had when he had first entered.
            “Yes, I serve her.”
            She smiles. “She’s a wonderful woman.”
            “Yes,” Tavrik agrees, “and a great queen.”
            “So which of her Warlord Princes caught your eye?” she asks.
            “The Eyrien son of the High Lord of Hell; Lucivar Yaslana,” he admits softly, “but there is no way he would see anything in me.”
            “What did you try to get him?” she asks curious.
            “It was an Eyrien war blade that had an inscription reminding him of who he was….in Eyrien.”
            “A time-consuming gift…but one of the heart. No one who could receive something that would know it for anything less than an obvious declaration…and you said someone else got it?”
            “This stupid bitch named Roxie,” he says bitterly, “That cow has been trying to get him in her bed forever.”
            The woman shakes her head. “I know that vain, little peacock…and I am sorry, Prince.”
            “So am I,” he says quietly, “So am I.”
            A moment later, the door opens and Daemon steps into it. Tavrik swallows seeing him. “Did I miss something?” he asks too softly, too gently.
            “No,” he whispers miserably, “It’s just my life going to hell.”
            Daemon sits down beside him. “You got that blade made for my brother?”
            “Yes,” he tells him bitterly, “Yes, I had it made for him…and I wanted to be the one to give it to him, not HER!”
            Daemon looks at him calmly, no emotions to tell him what the male was thinking. It was at this time that he was at his most dangerous. Finally, he says, “Do you think she knows what the blade said?”
            “I don’t know,” Tavrik answers.
            Daemon smiles. “Then I am going to bring her here…and we will find out,” he says as he gets up, “Don’t go anywhere, Prince.” He doesn’t wait for a response before heading back out the door.
            “Wonderful,” he mutters, “This should be good.”
            “I doubt she knows,” the barmaid comments, “That idiot probably didn’t know it had writing on it.”
            “It doesn’t show up unless it’s in his hands,” Tavrik admits, “It is tuned to his Ebon-gray jewel.”
            “Then of course she doesn’t know what it says,” the woman comments with a grin, “This really SHOULD be fun.”
            Tavrik doesn’t know if it would matter. The male who had made it could have explained it to her when he gave it to her. All he could do, though, was sit and wait and see what would happen. It doesn’t take long before the others arrive. He barely manages to keep himself calm enough to look like he was enjoying his drink. “I was wondering,” Daemon comments airily to Roxie, “What DOES that blade say, anyway?”
            “It really isn’t any of your business,” she responds, “I got it for Lucivar.”
            Tavrik looks at the male who was still looking at it, and realizes that there was something in his eyes that was troubled. How he wished he could have given it to him and saved him the trouble of having to wonder about this bitch’s intentions. Then he hears Daemon. “Yes, well, as a member of his family, I was merely curious as to what you would write on an Eyrien war blade.”
            “That is between him and me. It’s personal, Daemon, leave it alone,” the woman tells him.
            “I have to admit, to also being curious,” Jaenelle comments, “because I wasn’t aware you were fluent in Eyrien.”
            “I am not but…it seemed fitting to write it in Eyrien.”
            Finally, Lucivar slides the blade into the sheath and hands it to Jaenelle. “Slide it out for me, please,” he says softly. Curiously, Jaenelle does so. “Can you see anything?”
            “No, just the blade,” she answers looking confused.
            “Hand it to Daemon.” She does so. Daemon looks down at the blade and realizes that where the words are, it’s strangely blank. “Anything?”
            “No.”
            Lucivar gently takes it back and the writing appears spilling across the blade. “It answers to your jewel,” Jaenelle says softly.
            Lucivar looks at Roxie. “What does it say?” he asks too softly, too sweetly. Tavrik then realizes that Roxie had no idea who his father was. Hope rises in him that maybe, just maybe the male realized it WAS NOT from her.
            “You can read it,” the woman says stubbornly in an attempt to mask her growing fear.
            “Yes, I can…but I doubt you even know what was written on the blade…just as I doubt how you know to make it answer to my jewel alone. So tell me, BITCH, who was the one who ordered the blade made? Who was the one who worked on getting the words translated to perfect Eyrien? And WHO was crafty enough to get my blood without me noticing which is the ONLY reason it responds to ME?” he snarls. Watching the girl pale is enough to make his Winsol though it hardly means that if he found out it was him he wouldn’t spill him across the city.
            “I…I…”
            “You don’t know do you?”
            “No.”
            Tavrik sees the barmaid wave him towards them and realizes that it was now or never. “It says ‘Never forget who you are. You are an Ebon Gray jeweled Warlord Prince. You are the High Lord’s son. You ARE Lucivar Yaslana’,” Tavrik says softly, though loud enough to get Lucivar’s attention, “and as for how I managed to get your blood…well, there was a reason I “accidentally” gave you that bloody nose and lent you my handkerchief.”
            The silence in the room is louder than anything Tavrik’s ever heard and he waits…waits for whatever Lucivar would say to him because the Barmaid was right, there was no mistaking the feeling behind such a gift at Winsol. Fearing the worst, he wonders how fast he’s going to get to the door and if he can do it without getting sliced by his own gift to the Warlord Prince. He’s so absorbed in trying to figure out a good method of escape, he never sees Lucivar move until the male is right in front of him. He swallows as he realizes just how intimidating the male is up close. “It must have taken a lot to get this done,” he says softly.
            “It was worth it,” Tavrik answers hoping that he wasn’t about to get swung at. The last thing he needed was to be attacked by him. Lucivar gently tilts his chin up and stares at him.
            “I guess I finally get to answer that question you asked me about my response to a male telling me they were attracted to me,” he comments.
            “Yes,” Tavrik whispers, “I guess you do.”
            “Well, Prince, here’s my answer,” Lucivar tells him before drawing him forward and kissing him on the mouth. To say that Tavrik is startled would be an understatement though it is not enough to keep him from leaning into it. The power behind it is enough to make him weak-kneed and glad that he is sitting. When Lucivar pulls back, he’s panting and shaking.
            “Mother Night,” he whimpers.
            Lucivar smirks. “And that was a kiss,” the Eyrien tells him. He turns bright red.
            “A MAN? He wants to be with a MAN?!” Roxie shrieks. Tavrik covers his ears and wonders what the bitch was doing still in that bar.
            “So it would seem,” Daemon says chuckling, “Good choice, brother.”
            Lucivar smiles. “I just got the best Winsol gift,” he comments looking at Tavrik with a smile. That deepens his blush. The barmaid laughs.
            “He’s so cute,” she comments.
            “Yes,” Jaenelle comments, “He really is. Powerful, too.”
            “So, Lucivar, I am sure you are going to get him something for Winsol,” Karla comments looking at him.
            Lucivar gives a saucy smile. “What I give him for Winsol, you all will NOT be privy to.”
            Now, Tavrik is sure he’s going to spontaneously combust, he’s flushing so deeply. “Wow, he’s so red…I do not believe I’ve ever seen a color like that before,” Saetan says mildly, his eyes sparkling with amusement. Tavrik buries his head in his arms on the bar and groans softly.
            “Happy Winsol to me,” he mutters.
            “Oh, I am sure it will be,” Lucivar tells him. He has no doubt that the Warlord Prince will make good on that…and the thought of what that will entail after his kiss is enough to make things in his lower stomach coil pleasurably. “So now, will you come on? I think I want to dance with you.”
            He raises his head and stares at him. “Are you nuts?” he asks wondering if the Warlord Prince had been drinking.
            “No,” he answers, “no, I am not nuts.”
            “Before you two go anywhere, I want to give this to you,” Jaenelle says to Tavrik, “There was a reason I wanted your jewels.”
            Accepting the box, he stares down at it for a moment. He could sense them within it and opens it. His Sapphire jewel was set in a gold bracelet and his birthright Purple Dusk was set in a matching golden choker. Carefully, he lifts them out of the box. “They’re beautiful,” he says softly, “Thank you.”
            “You’re welcome…now put them on,” she tells him sternly. Before he can, Lucivar gently takes the choker before gently securing it around his neck. Tavrik snaps the bracelet on.
            “Now, you will always remember what is yours,” Saetan tells him.
            He rolls his eyes but smiles nonetheless. “Now, come on,” Lucivar tells him.
            “You are really serious about dancing with me?”
            “Well, since I cannot take you home yet and do to you what I really WANT, dancing will have to do.”
            Tavrik flushes again. “You are going to be the death of me, Lucivar Yaslana,” he groans softly.
            “Good,” the other male responds before taking him by the arm and leading him out of the bar. He can only imagine how the other women are going to react to seeing him dancing with a man. This was going to be interesting…that was for sure. However, he cannot help the smile that crosses his face at the thought that the male was all his…and that soon the male would stake that claim.
            They arrive at the building and Lucivar opens the door for him. Blushing, he slides in wondering if he was really going to go through it. When the male extends his arm to him, Tavrik realizes that it was now or never. Giving him a shy smile, he accepts and Lucivar leads him down. It doesn’t take long for them to get the attention of the others in the room…especially with how close Lucivar holds him to his body. However, Tavrik barely notices as lost as he is within the other male’s gaze. The Warlord Prince smiles and draws him close, their bodies touching. It sends warmth to every part of him. “Enjoying yourself?” Lucivar croons.
            “I want to go home so you can ravish me…what do you think?” he asks hoarsely. Lucivar chuckles into his ear.
            “Good.”
            “You’re evil, Lucivar,” he groans into his shoulder.
            “I know…but it will be worth it in the end.”
            “I hope so because either that, or I am going to die of frustration.”
            “You are not going to die,” Lucivar assures him.
            “Says you.”
            “Of course, says me,” Lucivar tells him with a grin. Tavrik gives him an ugly look. “I know what you want,” he breathes into his ear, “I want the same thing. However, propriety states we need to stay here for a few hours.”
            It is the first time that Tavrik is pleased to be able to leave and go home from celebrating Winsol. The heat in Lucivar’s eyes whenever he glances at him, tells him that he feels the exact same way. They walk into the house and the Eyrien all but drags him to his room. The Hayllian figures he’s lucky that the door gets locked. He finds himself out of his clothes in record time and pressed to the bed. Looking up at him, he finds his blood boiling at the expression in Lucivar’s eyes. “I am glad to finally be home,” he croons.
            “So am I,” Tavrik says softly, “now please do SOMETHING!”
            Lucivar chuckles before leaning down and pressing a hot kiss to his mouth that makes him pull him closer to him, pressing their bodies together. Tavrik wraps his legs around his waist groaning at the feeling of their skin rubbing together. When he feels Lucivar respond to him and make a soft noise in the back of his throat, he smiles in satisfaction. He sees Lucivar notice his reaction and give him a look that clearly states he’s going to pay for that. For some reason, he finds that he’s not too worried about what he’s going to do.
            He watches the Eyrien slide down his body licking and nipping gently pulling sounds from him he didn’t think he could make. When he gets between his thighs and nuzzles gently, Tavrik almost comes off of the bed. The Eyrien grins before doing it again and flicking his tongue out to taste his skin. A groan escapes Tavrik and he grips the sheets tightly. “Lucivar…Warlord Prince…Please…” It doesn’t take much more than that before he finds himself in the hot confines of Lucivar’s mouth and then he DOES scream. His back arches as Lucivar starts sucking and he swears he IS going to die. He hadn’t expected it to feel this GOOD. He soon can’t even form a coherent word thanks to Lucivar and is reduced to mewling like a kitten.
            When Lucivar finally brings him over the edge, his entire body jerks and he swears he sees stars flash. He also has no doubt that the entirety of the house heard him scream Lucivar’s name at the top of his lungs. There would be no end to the teasing come the next day. He lies there panting trying to remember to breathe. Lucivar brings himself eye-level licking his lips and it was probably the most erotic thing Tavrik had ever seen. “You are delicious,” the Eyrien purrs. That definitely sends heat pooling again. Lucivar smiles noticing. “So, we can continue then?”
            “Y-yes,” the male grits out, “because if you stop, I’ll have someone castrate you.”
            Lucivar laughs. “Your pillow talk needs work, Prince.”
            Tavrik scowls at him and is answered by another round of laughter from the Warlord Prince straddling him. “If you don’t stop laughing and teasing me, I swear I will do something evil to you.”
            “Your threats need work, too.”
            “Dammit, Yaslana, just fuck me already!”
            Lucivar grins. “Your commands however, don’t.”
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