Gottfried heard Iris approach him, he saw the tops of her bare feet, but he couldn’t raise his head. He heard her question to him, and the black haired prince found it in him to answer. “The two… Vocaxin and Yoxi… they were kind of… friends. As much as a Prince can be with slaves. I trained with them many times. Tonight I saw them murdered. I d-didn’t expect that.” He said, his hands trembling on his thighs with his palms up.

“Gottfried… they were gladiators, isn’t that-” Iris stopped when he snapped his face up to hers and she saw his burning anger.

“No!” He hissed. “Not like that! They were veterans, yes. Skilled. But they were not champions. They never stood a chance against Fa’Alenshi. That’s not how matches work. Yes, there is always a chance someone might die. Many do, perhaps one in ten. But everybody gets a chance to live, a chance to win. They’re matched against closely ranked opponents.”

Iris took that in, and then slowly nodded as it fell into place. “Right, you’re right, Master… I thought it was strange that he… no, that makes perfect sense.” She recalled Gottfried’s own fights, he only ever fought champions and the godsheirs of other kingdoms.

“Fa’Alenshi did that on purpose. He killed them because he knew it would get to me.” Gottfried hissed out again.

“That’s a rare thing, Master Gottfried.” Iris said, crouching down in front of him and putting her hands on his shoulders, “Come with me, at least let’s sit in the booth, tell me about them, and remember.” She said, and gently helped him rise to his feet.

She brought him to the wide curved seat and rather than sit opposite him as she had, she sat beside him and let him talk about the pair. When the wine and food arrived, she kept her professional smile on for the orc brother she couldn’t identify and took up the wine to pour it for him so that he would leave faster.

She held the glass to him and poured another for herself. “To the remembered dead.” She said, her eyes down for a moment of silence that he shared before he echoed her toast.

“The remembered dead.” He answered, and clinked his glass to hers before they drank the rich smooth red wine.

She was grateful for the wine, sighing in spite of herself as it washed away the last acrid taste of both her stomach contents and the bitter flavor of the contraceptive she’d had to drink hours before. But still her stomach ached, and so when he began to eat, she said nothing.

He didn’t notice her lack of interest in food at first, going on about Yoxi as if she were still alive. “I saw her fight for the first time when I was twelve, she was this… small thing, really, but she seemed like a mountain on the screen, she didn’t have a scar back then. She faced off against this big ogre, she cut him down at the back of the knees and would have finished him right then. But the ogre’s desperate flailing found himself a sword somebody had left behind that got buried in the sand. The damn thing was like a dagger to the ogre, but he shoved it in Yoxi’s cheek, it came out clear through the other side. She didn’t miss a beat though, pulled out her sword from the injury she’d given that thing, cut the ogre’s arms off, took his sword out of her face, and stabbed him in the eye with it. Fierce woman… proud woman.”

“You talk like you were in love with her…” Iris said, and at that Gottfried had a wistful smile.

“I had a little bit of a crush on her… I like the strong ones. A lot of passion in her, I doubt she would ever have become a champion, she was nearing her limits and probably would have retired soon. But she had more fights left to wage… till Fa’Alenshi.” Gottfried became morose again and Iris poured more wine.

She held the glass to him, and he took it between his fingers again. “I’m sorry for your loss.” She said, and at that, Gottfried could only nod.

“That’s generous of you, but I have no right to your sympathy, my cohort.” He replied, briefly looking away from her, he noticed her still full plate.

“You’re not eating?” He asked, “We’re alone, you don’t need my permission.”

Iris shook her head and put her hand on her stomach. “No, m- Gottfried, it’s just that my stomach is unsettled. I drank Silphium Tea yesterday for the first time, and then a little more today before your arrival. It seems to have a more lasting effect on my appetite than it does on some other women.”

“Oh, I’m not familiar with it.” Gottfried replied offhand, “Do you think I would like it?”

Iris couldn’t help it, she laughed, the absurd, innocently foolish look on his face was so ridiculous in its curiosity, she threw back her head and laughed, holding her hand over the wraps of her muslin cloth, she could barely stop her chest from heaving.

He raised a dark eyebrow and she finally shook her head. “No, Gottfried, definitely not. It wouldn’t have the… desired effect on a man than it does on someone like me.”

“Oh.” He said, flushing with a little embarrassment, he quickly shifted the subject. ‘Probably a sex thing… like vigian leaves old men chew to get hard when the spirit is willing but the body is weak.’

Her laughter abated, she put a hand on his, and asked, “How do you want to spend this evening… Would you like to just tell me about your friends…?”

The gentle way she said it, it sounded so damn sincere. Yoxi’s advice came back to his mind. “Shouldn’t you be revelling in this? I took everything from you.”

Iris’ smile wasn’t professional. Much to her surprise, that one simply wouldn’t form.

Instead she put her arm behind his head and brought him closer to her. “If you want to think that this is just my job and that I’m secretly enjoying seeing my father’s enemy in pain, my cohort, then you may.” She tightened her hold a little bit, “Maybe I should, I’m part of a traitorous house and this could be thought of as revenge. But it isn’t like that, Gottfried. You’re not the man I thought you’d be when I met you. If my stupid father and my stupid governor and the other stupid nobles hadn’t turned on your family… We might have met at a ball somewhere, been friends, written letters. You’re not the sort of man who would have come to hurt me for nothing. Neither of us asked for our lot, or our losses.” She said as a lingering pain hit her stomach.

He let his head rest on her breast and feel, even hear, the beating heart beneath.

“If you were… you’d have done a lot worse to me, so let me do this for you…” Iris whispered and began to stroke the ink dark hair of the strongest man in the world.

“And… you still don’t want anything?” Gottfried asked, “Don’t you… you know, need money?”

Iris couldn’t completely keep the bitterness at bay. “For what? I can’t buy my freedom because I’m a Valoisin. I’m high value now, so I’ll be given a better bed, probably better clothing, and better food. Anything you pay over the usual will go to my upkeep or to caring for my mother. All the money you spend goes to my owner. There’s nothing I can think of that I want from you, Gottfried. I like this part, this is enough, to just keep doing this. It’s a relief, the same for me as it is for you. These might be the very best days I have for the rest of my life. I just want to enjoy them.”

Gottfried wasn’t quite sure what to say to that. His own private thoughts were a whirlwind, as he could think of nothing to say, he said nothing, nothing about that. He talked about his friends, or who he thought of as friends. The lights beyond dimmed, the music they hadn’t even noticed was playing, faded away.

If they listened with care they could hear the sound of people leaving.

But nobody bothered them.

Nobody would have dared.

Iris’ food grew cold, but her bosom grew warmer, pressed as it was against the head of the Prince.

Minutes ran away with the speed of a routed army, but neither of them truly noticed or cared, it was only when the Prince’s breathing slowed that Iris realized that he’d fallen asleep.

He seemed to weigh much more then, and for a moment Iris considered what to do. ‘Leave? Clean up? Go get Xagen or his brother? Ask my Mistress what to do?’

Finally she settled on something, she began to inch out of position, sliding herself to the corner of the cushioned booth, and slowly inching him down until his head was in her lap.

“So… you’re the mighty Son of Terror?” She whispered and stroked the side of his face. “Victor of a hundred battles in the arena, champion of champions, future Emperor, commander of armies… destroyer of Abacleon.” She said the name of her city with the smallest of voices, even less than the whisper she had before as she whispered down to the sleeping man. “You’re all that, but you practically bawled over two dead slaves? Nobody in the city will even remember their names in a month. But you don’t ever plan to forget, do you?” His answer was the steady rise and fall of his breath as it kissed her bare belly.

It tickled a little, the ache in her stomach was finally gone at last, free of pain, she stroked his cheek and wondered, ‘Would it be easier to do this if I hated you? Probably. I could just be like one of those lifeless dolls made for perverts… this is harder…’ Iris’ sigh was ragged when his breath continued to be his only answer to her unspoken thoughts.

If Iris could have recognized the moment she fell asleep herself, she would have called it a relief.