(Yuer's POV)

As soon as Yuer arrived at the Second Reznal’s secondary residence, he was greeted by several rows of kneeling servants. All of them were clad in light blue robes bereft of any adornments except for an embroidered crest of a golden sun on their backs. Yuer’s gaze stayed upon them for a period before it traveled further to the broad figure casually leaning against the door-frame of the inner hall.

Ivak.

Sunlight from the moon windows at his back draped over him, casting his long shadow across the floor. His silver eyes glinted in the shade, appearing especially keen as they stared back at Yuer.

At that moment, Yuer understood. Those were palace servants sent to this residence under the guise of serving him and Ivak but the truth was otherwise. Those were the old Rezas’s hand-trained sparrows: His eyes and ears. It seemed the old monarch was far more anxious that Yuer estimated him to be. He must be unsettled by the possibility that his least favored son could forge an alliance with the Temple through him. Yuer didn’t know whether to sigh or to laugh.

An eunuch of the Reznali palace stepped out from among the servants. He bowed respectfully to Yuer, “Greeting to the Exalted One. This lowly servant was sent by His Majesty to ensure the comfort of His Second Highness and his esteemed bonded-to-be during their temporary stay at the capital. Please, order us as your honorable self wishes. We are at your service.”

Yuer stared coldly at the bald ‘half’ man. In a perfectly impassive voice, he acknowledged, “I thank His Majesty for his grace and thoughtfulness. Relay my gratitude.”

The eunuch smiled lightly, “Of course, Exalted One.”

Yuer continued on his path, the previously kneeling rows of servants swiftly jumped to their feet parting before him into two neatly arranged queues. The eunuch trailed behind him.

Yuer halted. Without turning around, he threw at the eunuch, “I’m slightly famished. Prepare lunch.”

Yuer wasn’t famished at all. In fact, he had just barely finished a bite of what Sakina brought him back at the Ayaseen residence. What he truly sought was to shake off this new insect that latched on into the hem of his clothing.

The eunuch nodded as he bowed, “Right away, Exalted One.” He clapped once and a company of the servants broke off from the rest and followed him toward the western direction of the residence, most likely to where the kitchens were.

As soon the eunuch disappeared, Yuer glanced back at the remaining servants from the corner of his eyes, counting them to be at least around ten. Just great. Now he had to deal with being around ten additional pairs of eyes and ears at every waking moment of the upcoming three days. The old Rezas definitely lived up to his name of never doing anything half-heartedly.

Yuer peeked at Sakina, who was on his right. The girl appeared to understand him without him having to say a word. She simply opened her arms and Yuer handed the sleeping little boy over to her. He whispered, “Keep him safe and never let him out of your sight.”

Sakina nodded vehemently, “of course, esteemed young master.”

He shifted his body toward Hasha who was to his left and dipped his chin meaningfully in Sakina’s direction. The redhead’s eyes glinted as comprehension flashed across their amber depths. Wordlessly, she thudded a fist against her chest as a way of displaying her acknowledgement.

Yuer nodded lightly at her and turned to the servants, “Half of you are to go and guide my personal servants to their designated quarters.”

Five servants voluntarily stepped out and said in unison as they bowed, “As Exalted One commands.”

He stood for a moment, watching his companions as they disappeared deeper into the eastern side of the residence. With the Valquari child in his confidante’s hands and under the watchful eyes of his capable Mesrin guard, Yuer’s worry lessened a bit. He turned and strode forward into the inner hall. The moment Yuer reached Ivak, the Kersasi twins who were a step behind him, detached themselves from his side and rushed to rejoin their Chieftain, “Esteemed Chieftain.”

Ivak merely nodded at them, arms still folded across his chest.

Yuer bowed slightly to him, “Your Highness.”

Although Yuer was technically of an equal rank to any Reznal due to his Alikana-marked identity, he still chose to show Ivak proper courtesy and respect. Yuer didn’t want the many watchful mice around the residence to come to the wrong conclusions.

Ivak unfolded his arms and approached him. His bulky frame appeared at odds with the way he naturally moved. Someone of his stature ought to move with an awkward, if not slightly stiff, gait. The older youth however, moved with a certain touch of fluidity, like a sinuous wild feline unbothered by the weight of its bulk. Yuer absentmindedly wondered how many candle-hours of his life had this Reznal devoted to swordsmanship. This high level of ease with one’s physical form wasn’t something one was born with, it was something honed throughout endless months and seasons. Mentally, Yuer couldn’t help but admire Ivak’s sense of commitment.

Yuer’s thoughts didn’t get to stray further because Ivak unceremoniously snaked a black-clad arm around his slender waist, bringing him right against his firm chest. The younger youth had yet to process what was happening before the Reznal leaned over and whispered into his ear in a deep voice, “Play along.”

The moment he understood Ivak’s intent, Yuer relaxed his body, making it look as if he was melting into his bonded-to-be’s embrace. Ivak’s slightly chapped lips laid small chaste kisses across the side of his face while the hand he had around his waist, rested itself upon his lower back suggestively.

As expected, the servants got the intended conclusion and swiftly lowered their heads, eyes conveniently boring into the floor at their feet. Ivak pinned Yuer with a heated gaze that darkened his usually glinting silver eyes into a smoldering gray. The younger youth knew it was but a part of his act but something about that look cause his heart to stutter for a moment. Ivak announced to the servants in an especially husky voice that openly blared his ‘desires’, “For the next two candle-hours, no one is allowed into the inner hall.”

The servants didn’t even bring their heads up as they collectively replied, “As His Highness commands.”

In one smooth move, Ivak hauled Yuer up into his arms in a carry that was most reminiscent of those mentioned in the romantic dramas Dasrari women liked to read. Yuer, fearing the loss of his balance, clasped his arms around Ivak’s neck as the latter carried him into the inner hall. With his foot, the black-haired Reznal managed to slam the sliding door shut in the faces of not only the standing servants but also of his own visibly uncomfortable warrior guards.

Inside the hall, Ivak carefully placed Yuer into the consort seat which was right next to the building’s central seat of honor. Instead of taking the central seat or any of the hall’s seats for that matter, the Reznal casually unbuttoned his black tunic’s collar and made himself comfortable at Yuer’s feet. He leaned his head against the polished legs of the consort seat and smirked at Yuer, face upside down, “That will keep them away for a moment.”

Yuer simply quirked his brows and said nothing.

Ivak chuckled, appearing to sense the exasperation that Yuer felt toward him but didn’t express. He gathered the ends of Yuer’s black robes in one hand and laid a kiss upon its fabric. A roguish smile spread across his face as he said, “Apologizes, Exalted One. Touching you at my own liberty might have been too forward and unseemly of me.”

Yuer merely glared back at him, albeit his glare held neither heat nor menace. A moment later, he sighed and sagged back into his seat, too tired to banter. Ivak must have noticed his weariness because he straightened his back, some of the humorous light snuffed out of his silver gaze. “What happened?”

Yuer fell silent for a moment and fixed his gaze on the black three-arm candelabrum placed atop a small table few paces from his seat. He watched the flame of one of the candles as it quivered and flickered in the still air of the hall. He suddenly thought of how achingly vulnerable that little orange spark looked to him. A gust of wind could snuff it out in a matter of a mere instance and then it would be gone, as if it had never been here before. Eventually, he softly uttered, “Nothing, Ivak. Just tired.”

Ivak appeared to have seen where the younger youth’s gaze tracked but chose not to speak. Instead, he took one of Yuer’s feet and placed on his thigh. He began to slowly and carefully knead its muscles. Yuer’s eyelids closed on their own accord, the pleasurable pressure on his aching foot was most welcome.

“Your soles, they are slightly swollen. Do they hurt?” asked Ivak.

With eyes still shut, Yuer replied with a bitter chuckle. “No, it doesn’t, not as much as those other wounds one’s eyes can’t see.”

Ivak who was about to start on Yuer’s other foot froze for a moment. He turned around and took one of the younger youth’s hands into his own. In an almost hushed voice, he said to the visibly exhausted Yuer, “Come here.”

Yuer who was somewhat struggling to keep his eyes open, frowned. “Here?”

Ivak pointed at his own chest. “Here.”

Yuer hesitated, unsure where this was going. Ivak seemed to sense his apprehension and clarified, “I promise upon my honor I won’t do a thing.”

The Dasrari youth, realizing that there was no benefit for the Reznal in antagonizing him, gingerly rose to his feet and slowly crouched down. Ivak moved first, gently gathering him into his arms. He arranged his own fur cloak, which Yuer was wearing, around the both of them, cocooning the younger youth.

Yuer suddenly found himself locked in a warm embrace surrounded by a strong pair of arms and cushioned by a firm chest. The familiar crisp scent of this particular young man drowned his sense of smell, reminding him of something he never had, of somewhere he had never been. Despite himself, he could already feel his own body softening, settling down against the warmth of Ivak’s steady heartbeat.

The black-haired Reznal slipped a hand through Yuer’s brown strands, gently playing with them. For a moment, another hand, one that was never this kind or gentle flashed before Yuer’s closed eyes, causing him to unconsciously flinch and stiffen. Ivak must have felt his reaction because he slightly tightened his hold around him and leaned over. He whispered right into Yuer’s ear, “Hush. You are safe. You are safe here and no one can hurt. If you are tired, rest right here.”

Yuer’s breath stuttered. He felt chocked by something he didn’t understand; something he could neither spit nor scream out of his throat. In a broken and eerily frail voice he heard himself call out, “I—Ivak…”

“Yes, sweetness?” Ivak patiently and endearingly answered.

“I fee—feel t—tired today, really tired... li--like I hadn’t slept in forever.”

Ivak smiled into Yuer’s brown mop of hair. “I know. I feel tired too. I feel it all the time, especially when I’m back home and I know I don’t have enough to keep my people fed until the end of winter. The weariest I had ever been was when my uncle died and I had to grow up before I knew what growing up meant. All I wanted to do back then was to sleep, to sleep for a long long time. At one point, I hoped I never woke up.”

Yuer looked up, his misty and slightly red eyes swept across Ivak’s face, momentarily stopping at its damaged and twisted right side.

Ivak noticed his gaze and chuckled softly, nothing particularly fond or pleasant about the sound. “Hideous, aren’t they?”

Yuer touched his hand to the burnt and ravaged patches. They felt hard yet soft, depressed in some places and protruding in others. They felt to Yuer the way the earth would have felt like had it been made of flesh.

Ivak didn’t push his hand away and let the younger youth explore his scars at his own leisure. Yuer whispered, “You don’t hide them.”

Ivak snorted, “Oh, I used to. When I was younger, I would grow my hair past my shoulders just so that I could comb it over my face. I thought that way no one could see them, my shameful scars.”

“And now?” probed Yuer, softly.

Ivak bumped his forehead against Yuer’s playfully as he said through a grin, “And now, I just stopped caring.”

Despite himself, Yuer found himself returning that boyish smile.

“One day, my uncle took me out to the wilderness. I thought he was taking me along to hunt but instead he took me to some snowy little hill and told me to sit. We sat for candle-hours and back then, I remember thinking how numbly boring this whole thing was until several little heads started to pop out of a den I didn’t notice before. They were little new-born Kersasi pups and they were being taken care of by several adults.”

A haze of tenderness fell over Ivak’s face as he continued to recall, “At that moment, my uncle pointed out an older male wolf to me. It was missing a leg, an ear and almost half of its face was horrendously scarred. He said to me, ‘this is Mishika. He lost his leg to a poacher, his right ear to a rogue wolf and almost half of his face while defending those very little pups. Do you see him hiding them? Do you think they make him less of a wolf? Less of a family member to his pack?”

Ivak glanced back at Yuer, a sheen of glittering mist settled over his sliver eyes. “Since that day, I stopped caring.” He nonchalantly pointed at his own scars. “They are hideous, I know they are but they are my hideous insignia of survival. Someone tried to burn me alive and I lived. I lived and I bare the mark of it. Do they make me feel less of person? Less of a man? They don’t. So, do your wounds which my eyes can’t see make you less of who you are?”

Yuer stammered, not knowing how to answer that. Did what happen to him in his past life make him feel less of a person?

Ivak, who appeared to noticed the display of conflicting emotions on his face, prodded, “Do feel like you deserve them? Those wounds?”

Yuer gazed back at Ivak, his heartbeat was growing increasingly louder in his own ears.

Did he deserve those wounds? Did he deserve what Jarak did to him? Was it rightful what has been done to him? Did he call it upon himself or did the Holy Mahatir deem it his divine punishment? But for what?

Suddenly Yuer couldn’t breathe properly. The air around him had grown too thin and no matter how hard he tried to breathe it in, it didn’t seem to reach his lungs fast enough.

Did he deserve it? Did he not? Why him? Why did it happen to him? What did he do wrong? Why would the Holy Mahatir punish him so?

His vision began to grow hazy and tremors he didn’t notice at first started to quake though his body.

Why him?

Why ?

(Ivak's POV)

Ivak’s black brows were furrowed in concern. His bonded-to-be’s symptoms were similar to those of mentally traumatized Kersasi hunters who managed to escape from the outskirts of the Razura Forest. They also had episodes like this, where they trembled and struggled to breathe. Using what little knowledge he had, Ivak flipped Yuer, making his back against Ivak’s chest instead of his front. He then took those slender trembling hands into his own and leaned over, pushing Yuer to also do so.

He kept at it until the younger youth’s head was between his own knees. He squeezed Yuer’s hands and whispered to him, “Can you feel my chest, sweetness? Can you feel it as it rises and falls? Now, follow its rhythm along with me. Together we breathe in and we breathe out, alright?”

Ivak felt the slight squeeze on his hand and sighed in relief, thankful that Yuer wasn’t too far gone into his own head that he couldn’t hear him.

“Together. In. Out. In. Out. With me, Yuer. In. Out. In. Out.”

Eventually Yuer’s tremors lessened and he seemed to be able to breathe a bit easier. Ivak however didn’t stop and kept it repeating the same exercise until Yuer was able to raise his head.

At last, Yuer sagged against him as his chest rose and fell almost as if he had been running for his life. A sheen of sweat pooled around his forehead, wetting his brown strands. His face was as pale as the moon but some flush of color was already returning to it.

Ivak sighed. He didn’t realize how nervous and scared he was until he brushed a hand to his own face and noticed how shaky and sweaty it was. He swallowed and glanced down at Yuer only to find the younger youth’s eyes already on him. Their deep blue was shimmering with something small, fragile and precious: something that looked an awful lot like trust. Ivak was so used to these eyes been fathomless and unreadable that he was taken aback by how open and sweet they looked at him at that moment.

Yuer wordlessly mouthed two words to him, “Thank you.”

The next thing Ivak knew, those achingly beautiful eyes closed as their owner fell asleep in his arms.

Ivak’s heart winced in his chest and he didn’t understand why. Suddenly, he was stuck by an irrational desire unlike anything he had ever felt before: an almost instinctive urge to gather the smaller youth up in his arms and bury him underneath his very skin where nothing or no one could ever hurt him again.

Flabbergasted and unsettled by his own strong and unexplainable feelings, Ivak rested his face in his hands for a while before gently lifting Yuer into his arms and taking him into one of the many inner rooms within the hall.

(Yuer's POV)

When Yuer woke up, he felt groggy and disoriented. He looked around and found himself in a big and comfortable bed, surrounded by a pile of soft-looking pillows. The room was unfamiliar and definitely not the hall where he last remembered he was. Yuer yawned and brushed a hand across his face. Before he could pull the gauze curtains around his bed, the whiff of something mouthwatering made its way into his nostrils. His stomach grumbled instantly, making its demands audibly known.

A rich male voice said from the entrance doorway. “You are awake? Good, time for you to eat something.”

Yuer dragged his body from the bed. He struggled to tighten his inner white robes which had apparently come undone in his sleep. Yuer frowned, suddenly realizing he didn’t have this clothing on him earlier when he came to the residence. He shuffled, barefoot, toward Ivak who was arranging several delicious-looking plates on a table.

The Reznal looked up and a genuine smile graced his face at the sight of Yuer. Met by those eyes and that smile, the younger youth suddenly found himself feeling anxious, nervous as if his own skin didn’t fit him. An unexplainable rush of heat traveled to his face and his heart started to thump fast and hard again his chest.

Why was he feeling like this? Before he could understand it, Yuer found himself tucking his hair behind his ear unconsciously as he struggled to meet Ivak’s eyes.

Wait, why was he tucking his hair around his ear like some untried Dasrari girl before her object of affection? Why was he looking away? What in the Holy Mahatir was going on?