A lot of things have happened recently, most of them bad, so I wasn’t able to update like before and since “Light of the Underworld” is going to be a longer novel, I wasn’t quite up for working on it. Instead, I spent the bit of time I could use for writing on doing some shorter stories and novellas that I will post in the following weeks until I will hopefully be able to continue where I left off in June.

“The King’s Lullaby” is the first of them and tells the story of a couple from Peraad, a land I think I mentioned once in the notes of “Snake King’s Consort”. There are some names in the story that hold special meaning in the language of Peraad. They aren’t necessary to understand the story but in case you are curious, I made a short list of what each of them means:

Almakaar: The kingdom in the center of Peraad, literally “the land in the middle”
Ashakar: The goddess of the sun being worshipped in Peraad
Ashalaar: A desert in Peraad, the name translates to “land of red sand”
Dayatar: A name meaning “arrival of winter”
Ensylfera: A name meaning “she who tells stories”
Kazahd: The title of Peraad’s rulers, akin to a king
Naj-il: A term of endearment, meaning “my star”
Peraad: One of the seven continents
Romallia: The capital of the world
Yashaadu Naj: A name meaning “sound of the stars”

Now, I hope you will like the story!

Author’s Note

And Ensylfera, the famous storyteller from the capital, spoke:

“This is the tale of Yashaadu Naj who once was Kazahd of the kingdom embracing the red desert Ashalaar and who went to quell the rumors circulating in his court. It is also the tale of his husband Dayatar who accompanied him on his journey to a faraway land where everything was foreign to him. It begins one afternoon in autumn at the outskirts of Romallia. And this is how the story is told.”

Dayatar’s gaze brushed over the houses at the side of the street, staring at the wooden structures and the painted clay between with wide eyes. Next to him, the Kazahd was resting as if this wasn’t new to him. Well, it surely wasn’t. He had to have seen most of the world already.

Dayatar retracted his hand and the curtain fell back in front of the window, cutting off the foreign scenery. Instead, he turned to look at his husband, the familiar face calming him down. He sighed and closed his eyes, trying to fall asleep as well. The soft swaying indeed made him drowsy but before he could drift off, the voices speaking in a language that was still foreign to him and sounds like he had never heard them at home jolted him awake.

Yashaadu Naj’s eyelids fluttered when his husband flinched the second time and he finally opened his eyes by the third. Looking at his lover’s face, he realized that Dayatar’s usually golden skin had paled. “Naj-il, is the ride making you sick?” He reached over and brushed back the satiny strands of black hair, his fingertips lingering at his back.

Dayatar turned to him and hurriedly lowered his eyelids, not daring to look. “Kazahd, my apologies, I must have woken you.”

Yashaadu Naj grabbed his chin, making him look up into his eyes. “Nobody is around. Why would you not look at me?”

Dayatar glanced up but then lowered his gaze just as fast. To look at the Kazahd, that was an honor he wasn’t worthy of. He only dared to steal a glance every now and then when nobody else was around and he believed Yashaadu Naj wouldn’t notice. Everything else would be presumptuous even if his husband told him otherwise. He knew his place.

His husband did not force him. Instead, he continued to caress his cheek with his thumb. Dayatar’s eyelids lowered further and he nestled against his palm, the picture of obedience.

Yashaadu Naj nodded with satisfaction. Even though Dayatar still refused to look into his eyes even when he insinuated he wanted him to, at least he sat close and let him pamper him. It was better than nothing and probably the most he could expect of him right now.

Dayatar’s wish to comply with the rules of the court was vexing at times and as long as he did not directly command it, he would dance around his wishes for sure. Just like now. How could a glance like that be called looking at him? But since he had merely asked not ordered, Dayatar would just pretend he did not understand. Well, he would let him for as long as Dayatar wanted to.

Yashaadu Naj reached past him, brushing the curtain in front of the window aside, and looked at the city of Romallia. They passed by a high tower and he pointed at the bright blue door with the frame inlaid with gems. “That is the moon tower where they raise the women who are to be wedded to the important men of Romallia.”

Dayatar turned in his husband’s embrace and looked out of the window as well. He nodded and tilted his head up at the building Yashaadu Naj had indicated. The stones used to build it were pale like moonlight, making this a fitting name. “It looks so different from the towers back at home.”

“It all does. In the future, I will take you along to other places. You will see that none of them are like home. As soon as you leave Peraad, everything is different.”

Dayatar nodded again and glanced back at his husband, a sense of awe in his heart. He felt like there was nothing the Kazahd had not seen or did not know. To him, his husband was omniscient.

Yashaadu Naj motioned back outside. “Look. I will tell you what we come across. If you want to know more, you only need to ask.”

Dayatar nodded once more even though he would never dare to question the Kazahd. He did not need to either. As soon as one of the important buildings Romallia’s appeared before them, he would motion at it, tell his husband what it was called if it had been given a name, and what it was meant for.

They passed many such buildings as if the whole city was filled with them. Even back at home, Dayatar couldn’t count as many in one place but then, while his husband’s kingdom was expansive, it was not like this city which his husband had called the capital of the world. He should not be surprised.

Finally, the carriage stopped in front of another majestic building. Dayatar stared in wonder at the wooden gate that seemed big enough for a group of five or maybe even ten people to pass through side by side and high enough for a man to carry another person through it on his shoulders. The frame of the door was made from stone slabs as big as a person’s head and with scenes carved into them that he couldn’t quite make sense of from this distance. He merely felt a sense of wonder at them, once again reminded that they had left their home far behind.

The carriage stopped and a servant rushed to open the door before he stepped back, kneeling on the ground. Dayatar hastily pulled himself out of his awe, got up and out of the carriage. He stepped to the other side and lowered his head while he waited for his husband to alight.

Yashaadu Naj left the carriage and looked up at the building in front of them while the huge gate already swung open as if by itself. A tall man stepped out and came toward them, his dark cloak billowing behind him while his shoulder-length hair danced without a breeze.

Dayatar kept his head lowered as the man greeted the Kazahd and offered to take him inside.

Yashaadu Naj glanced over his shoulder at his husband. “Naj-il.”

“Yes, Kazahd.” Dayatar bowed and then quietly followed at his husband’s wave, his head still lowered.

The other man glanced at him but did not ask and merely led the way into the building. “We prepared a suite of rooms for you in the northern wing as usual. Elder Aeliann just returned this morning. Do you wish to see him immediately?”

Yashaadu Naj gave a nod. “Yes, that would be preferable. Although I intend to stay in Romallia for a few days. If the Elder needs time to rest, I will wait.” He glanced at Dayatar while he said so, his dark eyes deep.

The man in front nodded, not noticing the gaze. “Then I will bring you over. Shall I sent one of the students so your servants can bring your possessions to the rooms?” He seemed to glance at Dayatar when he said so, apparently not quite sure what to make of the youth that was walking behind the Kazahd.

Yashaadu Naj merely gave a hum but did not explain Dayatar’s status in his court. The man did not ask and quietly led them deeper into the building.

They followed a long corridor and then stepped into a courtyard. Finally, Dayatar could not keep his gaze on the ground. He glanced up, his eyes brushing over the paved pathways framed by flower beds that filled the air with a sweet scent even this late in the year, the fountain gurgling to the left side and the cluster of old trees towering to the right whose leaves had turned an almost golden color that threw bright spots onto the ground nearby.

Some people were spread throughout the courtyard, either conversing in smaller groups around the fountain, sitting alone in the corners of the courtyard and reading, or doing … something which Dayatar could not understand. He looked for a moment longer, watching the fluent movement of their hands and the way their lips parted and closed as if murmuring words in a language he did not know.

His eyes had widened in wonder. Whether it had been in his time in the Kazahd’s palace or when he had still been nothing but a refugee wandering around, he had never seen anything like this. Right now, he really would have liked to ask what all this was, to try and understand what exactly was in front of him but even if he had dared, this was neither the time nor the place with people around that could see and hear them. He did not want any of them to look down on the Kazahd because he was followed by somebody so obviously uneducated.

They crossed the courtyard in silence and entered a second gate on the other side which turned out to lead them back into the same building that enclosed the courtyard in the middle. Maybe it was even the heart of this whole estate.

Dayatar did not know yet what this place was. The Kazahd had not told him when they arrived and before they left the palace, he had only mentioned going to Romallia but not what for or where exactly. And Dayatar would never ask.

They followed another corridor, made a turn, and took a flight of stairs. Another turn and another corridor and, finally, they stood in front of a wooden door. This one was of normal size but carved intricately, the embellishments almost looking as if they could come alive.

The man cleared his throat and called out. “Elder Aeliann, the Kazahd of Almakaar has arrived.”

“Oh, sent him in.” The voice from inside sounded withered like that of an old man who did not have many years left.

Dayatar glanced around, feeling even more afraid when he heard this. He would have liked to step closer to his husband to find some security in his presence but he was afraid of making him look bad.

They seemed to be guests here, honored guests for sure with his husband’s status, but guests nonetheless. And a guest should not be afraid of the host. To show a reaction that suggested otherwise would surely be a slight.

The other man reached out to push the door and the carving next to the doorknob moved. Dayatar made a sound before he could bite his lower lip.

Yashaadu Naj glanced back and — seeing his expression — he smiled faintly. He reached over, his fingers gliding beneath the thick black hair and rubbing his neck. “No need to be afraid.”

Dayatar hastily nodded and lowered his head. “Forgive me, Kazahd.”

Yashaadu Naj did not answer. He really would have liked to. Just a couple of words to reassure him would be enough but he was afraid to make him even more nervous. Surely, Dayatar would believe it was his fault if they had to let Elder Aeliann wait for their private matters and that, in turn, would make him more nervous when they met.

He could not let that happen. Thus, he merely continued to look at him until the door swung open. The other man stepped to the side, waiting for them to enter. Yashaadu Naj took his husband’s hand and pulled him into the room, hoping that the familiar touch would be able to do what he couldn’t achieve with words at the moment.

Dayatar didn’t notice. He focused on trying to stay as far away from the carvings as possible, subconsciously stepping closer to his husband. He glanced around, getting the vague impression of a room with a high ceiling, a flight of windows on the opposite side that flooded everything with pale light different from the golden rays he knew from home, and wooden furniture that was covered by cozy blankets and heaps upon heaps of books. It did have the appearance of an old man’s study, not of a place he needed to fear.

“Elder Aeliann.” Yashaadu Naj nodded at the man that was standing behind a wooden desk, bent over an old scroll that had yellowed over the years and cracked at the edges, doubtlessly one of his recent discoveries.

The man raised his head, peering over a contraption made of some kind of translucent gem that made his eyes seem huge. He needed a moment to realize who he had in front of him but when he did, he straightened up and put the contraption down, a bright smile spreading over his face. “Kazahd! I was worried I wouldn’t be back in time to receive you but it seems I barely made it. Ah, and this has to be the youth you mentioned in your letter!” He tilted his head while he walked around the desk, peering at Dayatar and trying to get a look at his face.

For all the years he had known him, the Kazahd of Almakaar had been a man of few words but in that recent letter of his, he had spent a considerable number on this youth. Elder Aeliann could only surmise that this had to be a show of the deep feelings that made this person linger at the back of the man’s mind at all times. As somebody invested in discovering the secrets of the world, this had whetted his curiosity. Unfortunately, the youth had lowered his head as soon as he had taken a glance through the room, not letting him get a good look at him.

Yashaadu Naj nodded in response to the Elder’s question. “Yes. This is Dayatar, my husband. Naj-il, this is Elder Aeliann of the Academy of Arcane Arts.”

“We like to call it the Arcademy for short.” The old man chuckled as if he had made a splendid joke.

Yashaadu Naj ignored it, having heard it one too many times when he came to Romallia. Dayatar, on the other hand, didn’t quite understand. His husband had taught him the language of this place but there were still many intricacies he did not grasp.

The old magician sighed when he didn’t get a reaction. He probably should have expected this. The Kazahd was rarely in the mood for banter and likely less so when he had an issue he needed to be solved.

Aeliann turned away, looking through the room. “Well, have a seat. You can choose … whichever you would like.” He frowned a little at the books everywhere but didn’t move to put any aside.

Dayatar hurriedly followed when his husband walked to one of the seats. He grabbed the pile of books and put them to the side, making sure not to damage any of them. He dusted off the blanket on the chair and then knelt to his husband’s feet.

Aeliann had also found a chair he quickly emptied next to his desk and looked at the seating arrangement on the other side strangely. “Oh, child, you don’t want a chair of your own?”

Dayatar glanced up, not sure what to say. He had never been seated at the same height as his husband. How could he compare to the status of the Kazahd after all? Maybe sometimes, when Yashaadu Naj was in a good mood, he would jokingly pull him onto his lap, actually making him look at him from above … But how could such a thing be done in front of another person?

Aeliann didn’t quite understand his reaction but didn’t want to bother about it. The rules of the Kazahd’s court were complicated and foreign. He had already realized this long ago. Surely, this was just another instance of that. “Well, give me your hands, child.”

He reached out but Dayatar didn’t do the same. Instead, he looked up at his husband in confusion, a hint of fear contained in his eyes. The wives of the Kazahd were not to be touched by another man and even though he wasn’t a woman, the same rule applied to him. He would never let another man hold his hands.

To his surprise, his husband motioned for him to go ahead though. Dayatar felt a pang of hurt, not sure what his husband’s meaning was. Was he not of the same status as Yashaadu Naj’s wives after all? Did his husband not want him any longer? Each possibility that flashed through his mind was agony.

He still remembered the day when his husband approached him for the first time. He had been standing on the steps of the temple in a long line of refugees waiting for their turn to receive a part of the temple’s generosity. The sun had been hanging high overhead, burning down on them, making the wait an arduous one.

It had still been a long while before it would be his turn when there was a commotion behind. Dayatar had not cared. Through the years, he had learned to focus on the task at hand. If he didn’t, who knew if somebody wouldn’t make use of his distraction, pass him by and take what he could have gotten? Then he would have to go hungry for the day and you never knew if there would be an opportunity to eat tomorrow.

Because of this, he hadn’t seen the procession down the street. He hadn’t even seen the Kazahd make his way to the temple, walking up the steps while most refugees looked on in awe, some clamoring for attention in the hope for a better life. He hadn’t even looked up when the people quieted down after Yashaadu Naj entered through the gate.

No, at that time, he had continued with his task, not in the slightest noticing the other person. The two of them had truly passed each other by.

That had only changed when Dayatar finally made it to the front of the line, received a bowl of food, and wanted to enter the temple to say his thanks. He had walked past the table that had been set up to hold the pots, slowly climbing the steps to make sure he didn’t spill anything. Just when he had almost reached the end of the stairs and looked up, the gates opened and Yashaadu Naj stepped out.

Dayatar had stopped in his tracks and just stared, the bowl still cradled in both hands. He had drifted around as a refugee and he had seen many people pass him by. There were those as poor as him, the common citizens, and also the wealthy merchants traveling outside, and the high-ranking men of the cities. But never, not even once, had he seen a man like Yashaadu Naj.

Sometimes, people would seem misplaced at the steps of a temple but Yashaadu Naj looked as if he was supposed to be there. He was a tall man with a straight posture and when he noticed Dayatar staring at him, he turned his head ever so slightly, requiting his gaze and holding it in place.

The sun had been dancing on his black hair, creating golden specks as if Ashakar herself wanted to gild this man. Not that there was any need to. His robes were splendid and bejeweled and just his face alone was enough adornment, able to have anyone look at him in a daze.

Yashaadu Naj had waved away his entourage when they started to worry and had gazed at him for a couple moments longer before making his way over as if it was the normal thing to do.

That day, Dayatar had felt so unworthy of his attention. He had not known who he was but he had instinctively understood that this man was far past his status. He would have walked away if he had been able to make sense of anything. But as it was, he had been enthralled, rooted to the spot, and only able to answer whatever question Yashaadu Naj asked.

When the man finally left and he entered the temple with his bowl, he hadn’t even known anymore what he thanked Ashakar for. Was it the food the temple had given him? Or was it the chance to take but one look at this splendid man?

Yes, he had thought that encounter on the steps of the temple would remain their only one. He never would have guessed that dozens would follow and that one day, that man would call him husband and let him live at his side.

Still, despite all that, despite staying with him for many months after their wedding ceremony, Dayatar often wondered what it was the Kazahd saw in him. Surely, he had not much to offer. An orphan with no family to support him, a refugee with no possession to his name, a wanderer with no home and no knowledge that hadn’t been taught by his husband himself.

Was he worthy? He didn’t think so. And because he thought so, he could not help but expect that one day, his husband would realize this as well and give him away. Maybe that day had now come.

Dayatar hesitated for a moment but then still gingerly reached out to offer Elder Aeliann his hands. What his husband said was what he would do even though his heart was bleeding at the thought.

It had been months since he entered the palace and he had made sure to follow each and every rule to the utmost. He had not been touched by a single person apart from his husband in all this time and it had made him proud. It was the only way he saw to prove to his husband that despite not having anything else to offer, he was at least devoted to him.

To be forced to break a rule now and in front of his husband no less made him feel ashamed. For a moment, tears threatened to gather in his eyes but he stubbornly blinked them away. Breaking the rules was bad enough. He would not cry and bring shame to his husband that way as well. Until he was told he had to leave, he would always do his best.

Aeliann did not notice his struggle. He wrapped his hands around Dayatar’s fingers, not even touching his palms, and closed his eyes. After a moment, his lips twitched and then he laughed, finally letting go.

Dayatar pulled his hands back as if he had been burned. He still wanted to cry but he stubbornly held on. He couldn’t look at the old magician in front of him though and turned toward his husband instead. He would have liked to look up, to see if there was a hint in his eyes as to what would happen next. Would he really be discarded? But despite the pressing questions, he did not dare to raise his gaze and just stared at the hem of his husband’s robe, wishing he could reach out and hold onto that at least.

Yashaadu Naj stared at the old magician opposite them and slowly raised his brows. “Elder Aeliann seems to think this matter funny?” In his heart, there was a small spark of fury ignited. He knew Dayatar was unhappy now but he had still urged him to go ahead. Why was this what he got in return? Had it all been for naught?

Aeliann noticed the faint change in his face and tried to stop laughing but he couldn’t help a few chuckles despite his best effort. He actually felt sorry about it. Clearly, the Kazahd took this matter very seriously. Having him laugh had probably offended him.

Aeliann coughed a few times, finally managing to subdue the chuckles although there was still an amused smile on his lips and the skin around his eyes was wrinkling, giving him the appearance of a kind elder that had seen many things but never lost his good humor.

Clearing his throat, he finally explained his sudden fit. “Oh, this is the funniest thing I have seen and heard in a while. Kazahd.” He leaned forward, his gaze turning more serious now. “This boy doesn’t have even a lick of magic. However did your court come up with the idea that he might have bespelled you?”

At that, Dayatar looked up again. First at Aeliann, then even at his husband, his eyes wide in fear. The Kazahd’s court thought such a thing? Now that it was mentioned, it did not seem too strange. They had not liked him from the beginning. Surely, this was as good a reason as any. But to him, it was dangerous. If his husband believed this …

Yashaadu Naj noticed that his husband was even more out of sorts now. He reached over and caressed his head, making him lean closer and finally rest his head on his lap. They couldn’t talk now so this was the best way to reassure him that he did not share such sentiments.

Meanwhile, he turned to answer Aeliann. “My court was not happy with my decision to wed him. Usually, I would ignore such rumors but one of my wives happens to be pregnant. If something were to go wrong and these rumors had not been quelled beforehand, I am afraid they would try to make more of this than it is. With Elder Aeliann’s words to prove Dayatar’s innocence though, those people should quiet down.”

The old magician nodded at that before looking at Dayatar again. “Well, he certainly hasn’t done anything. He couldn’t even if he wanted to. He would need to find himself some help and that is the same for everyone.”

Yashaadu Naj nodded. He had expected as much. His court might think this out of the ordinary, but in the past, he had taken a fancy to other men. It was just that it had never been to the degree that he even thought of marrying them. With Dayatar, it had been different. As soon as he spotted him that day, he had had his own intentions.

As Kazahd, he did not need to woo a person. Saying the word was enough to have them delivered to his bedside. But he had taken the time to meet Dayatar, to speak to him, and see his life with his own eyes. Only then had he taken him back to his palace and made him his, the wedding ceremony following soon after.

His court could say what they wanted, he knew that Dayatar had not bespelled him for he was the one who had spotted the youth first on his way into the temple, his eyes lingering for a moment before he had to reluctantly retract his gaze and go inside.

To him, it had even been a surprise to see Dayatar stand there on the steps when he came out. His talks with the priests had taken so long that he had been sure he would have missed him and that the youth would be long gone. He had expected to have to forget about him or that a long search would be needed to find any traces of him. After all, the refugees drifted around from place to place, never overstaying their welcome anywhere. There was no way to say how long this one would remain in the city.

So yes, it had been him who had taken an interest first and not the other way around. And if there was a spell involved in that, then it was the spell of youthful beauty, of golden skin and black hair, of almond eyes and ruby lips.

Yes, he had fallen for him, fallen under his spell. But he had done so the same way any man might for a beauty. And Dayatar had not tried even once to make use of the power he had over him. His wives had tried to influence him with their pillow talk and not only on one occasion. Dayatar, on the other hand, had always kept silent about politics, about the important families of his kingdom, or this or that decision that had to be made.

Well, Dayatar was an orphan, a refugee. He had no ties to any of those people and the things he knew had been taught by Yashaadu Naj himself in the quiet hours of the evening. So where would the wish to influence him come from?

The Kazahd smiled to himself and brushed through Dayatar’s silky hair. He knew that his husband was unhappy right now, having broken one of the rules of the court and even one that could be called the most important for a Kazahd’s spouse. But there was no other way to solve this and he would rather keep him safe than comply with the rules.

In any case, he had been here to make sure nothing more than necessary was going on. Although, to be honest, it satisfied him greatly to see Dayatar so reluctant. What did he have to worry about?

Yashaadu Naj pulled himself out of his thoughts and smiled at Aeliann, his mood greatly lifted by the thought of Dayatar’s faithfulness. “Then, Elder, might I ask you to see whether I was put under a spell by anyone else?” He stretched out his hand before even getting an answer, wanting to finish this as soon as possible so he could retire to their rooms with Dayatar.

The old magician didn’t mind. He took Yashaadu Naj’s hand and closed his eyes, taking more time now and mumbling under his breath while he checked for any traces of magic.

A few minutes passed by before he opened his eyes and let go. “Well, no spell there either. In fact, there is something on you that prevents you from being bespelled. I can’t tell you what exactly that is without a closer look but if somebody tried to use magic on you, it wouldn’t work unless the person was a magician or a witch as powerful as you might find them among those holding a chair in the Arcademy.”

Yashaadu Naj nodded slowly. He had a faint guess what exactly was preventing this but it wasn’t urgent to find out. No, there were other things more urgent. “Well, it was a long journey here. If the Elder doesn’t mind, I would like to get back to you on this matter another time. For now, we should go and rest.” His fingers were still combing through Dayatar’s hair and he looked at his husband with a smile.

Dayatar hadn’t moved at all since he had rested his head on his lap. The warmth of his body was seeping through their clothes, making Yashaadu Naj feel comfortable. Even though he had traveled regularly, there was no place as close to his heart as his home, and Dayatar’s body carried much of that feeling. Coming here with him had been much more enjoyable than doing so alone would have been and he was looking forward to the opportunity to finally be alone with him.

Elder Aeliann nodded. “Of course, of course. I just returned from my own journey and can’t wait to look through all the things I found either. If you are staying for a while, you can just come back when you have the time and feel more rested. Don’t even bother to send somebody over to inform me first. Just come by directly.”

Yashaadu Naj inclined his head and then pulled his fingers out of Dayatar’s hair, brushing over his back with his fingertips instead. “Naj-il, let’s go and take a look at our rooms.”

Dayatar hurriedly nodded and pulled back, continuing to kneel on the ground until his husband had gotten up. He hesitated for a moment and then bowed toward Elder Aeliann. He was still unhappy about what had happened but since his husband had come here to get his help, he owed him his thanks.

After that, he hurriedly got up and followed his husband out of the room, glancing at the door falling shut behind them, the carvings once again coming to life. In fact, it was them who had closed the door, not needing the Kazahd to even lift a finger.

Dayatar stood on the spot and stared, not sure what to do. This Arcademy, as the old magician had called it, was all of it like this? Every stone and every carving a living being that could move and do things? The thought made his hair stand on end.

Yashaadu Naj waited just a step away and smiled, finally reaching out to pull him into his arms. He leaned down, his breath brushing Dayatar’s skin. “There are a lot of magical things in Romallia. They are harmless though. Don’t worry about them.” He brushed his cheek with his lips before he straightened up again and turned to what was likely a student of the Arcademy. “I presume you are here to show us to our rooms?”

The student nodded. “Yes, Kazahd. Please, if you would follow me.” She motioned down the corridor and then led the way.

Yashaadu Naj glanced at his husband and then gripped his hand, pulling him along. He had known that Dayatar would be afraid in this foreign place but he had thought that he would take it better.

Dayatar should have seen many things in his time as a refugee. And even though the kingdoms of Peraad couldn’t compare to Romallia when it came to magic, there were some magical things there as well. He had thought that Dayatar would have encountered one or two at least, letting him stay composed when he encountered magic in Romallia as well.

But it seemed he had been wrong. Maybe Dayatar had not seen any magic before or maybe it was because those things had all been in Peraad. Whether it was his kingdom of Almakaar or the neighboring ones, there were still many similarities. Romallia was different though. Completely different.

From the looks of the people to the way the buildings were shaped, the two places differed greatly. Even to him who had seen paintings of faraway places since he was young, it had come as a shock when he left Peraad for the first time.

By now, he hardly remembered that feeling because it had been many years but he should have thought of that since it was likely similar to how Dayatar felt now. Worse, even. His husband had not been prepared in the least.

He had tried to tell him about this place before they left and he had used the hours in the carriage to tell him some stories but listening to his words and seeing the real thing were two different matters altogether and he had failed to take that into consideration.

Glancing at Dayatar’s face that was still paler than usual and noticing that his fingers were grasping his hand tightly while he walked closer to him than he had in all the time since he entered his palace, he realized that he hadn’t done enough.

He should have taken him through the city for a longer time. He should have found a place to stay at the outskirts of the city for a night or two, slowly letting him get used to it. He should have explained everything they saw, not just those famous buildings that Dayatar likely had no use in knowing anyway.

Well, it was too late by now. He could only try to make it up to him after the first shock had worn off. Yes, tomorrow, he would show him around the Arcademy first, telling him all about this place from how it had been built to its long history, about his own first visit all those years ago, about the magic the students practiced here, and the journeys that Elder Aeliann went on regularly.

They only had a couple of weeks in Romallia if he wanted to be back in Peraad for the birth of his child but he could surely acquaint Dayatar more closely with parts of the city at least.

While Yashaadu Naj pondered, they made their way through several winding corridors and up a flurry of stairs. Finally, they stopped in front of a door that was flanked by two of his guards. The two men bowed in greeting and the student bid farewell before she left.

Yashaadu Naj stopped his musings and glanced out the window on the other side of the corridor, making sure to mind where their room was located. The Arcademy was a spacious place with hundreds of rooms located in several towers and separate buildings. It was easy to get lost inside if you were not living there for more than a few days.

Dayatar also glanced around, taking note of the dark blue carpet beneath their feet and the paneled walls. There were carvings on this wood as well, making him recoil.

Yashaadu Naj was pulled out of his thoughts by his movement and reached out, his hand touching the small of Dayatar’s back. “Let’s go inside.” Out here, his husband would only get scared more. It was best to give him time to calm down first.

The guards moved to open the door at once, exposing a room that was similar to Elder Aeliann’s in how there were windows framing one wall and wooden furniture spread throughout. This room was missing the blankets and books and scrolls though.

Dayatar followed his husband inside, looking around to find out whether anything was out of the ordinary.

Yashaadu Naj let him. After looking around for a bit and realizing that everything was normal in here, Dayatar would be much calmer later on. In the meantime, Yashaadu Naj went to sit down, stretching his pair of long legs and looking at his husband appreciatively.

Dayatar really was the kind of beauty that could enchant a man. Especially when he showed the kind of expression he had on now: Curious but careful with his eyes slightly widened to not miss the smallest detail.

This kind of sight sure scratched at Yashaadu Naj’s heart. It reminded him of the first few days after Dayatar had entered his palace, how he would look at everything, unsure of what some of the things even were because he had never had the chance to see them outside.

At that time, while their own relationship blossomed, everything else had been too much for Dayatar just like now. He had needed time but given that, he had settled in. In fact, he had learned the rules of the court remarkably fast, and even when he started to teach him more from the history of Almakaar to the language of Romallia and that of their neighboring countries his husband had proven himself a quick study.

Dayatar was a beauty, yes, but he was also bright. After observing things for a while, he could fit in anywhere and if there was a need to know something, then telling him once was enough. It was a joy to watch.

Yashaadu Naj’s gaze softened unwittingly when he thought back to the past. Back at the palace, he had been preoccupied with his tasks. While he accompanied him as much as he could, especially in those early days, Dayatar was still left to roam alone for large parts of the day. Surely, that had made things more difficult for him.

Now, they were alone in a faraway place. There might be guards outside and servants waiting in close-by quarters in case he had a wish but right now, in this room, there were just the two of them.

He wanted to call Dayatar over, to pull him into his arms and hold him tightly. He wanted to reassure him that way, to show him that there was no reason to fear, and make things as easy as possible for him.

In the end, he did not move though and did not say a word. He knew from experience that he couldn’t always be there. So it was best to let Dayatar figure things out for himself first. That way, if he was alone in the future when presented with a new situation, he could confront it calmly.

Dayatar indeed continued to observe the room, taking note of the walls and the wooden furnishings with their carvings especially. Finally, he felt reassured that there was nothing that looked too dangerous. Even if these carvings could move, they should not stretch so far that they could grab onto him and his husband as long as they kept a safe distance between them.

Having made sure of this, he turned to see what his husband was doing and realized that Yashaadu Naj had long sat down. He wanted to throw himself to the ground in apology but his husband reached out a hand, inviting him to come over.

Dayatar’s legs trembled. Again. Once again, he had broken the rules of the court even though he had promised himself that he would do better. It seemed that even though he tried, he just couldn’t do it right. One moment of inattention and he would take a wrong step.

It was good that they were alone right now. If he imagined that this could have happened in front of other people instead … Who knew how long he had stood there, calmly surveying the room while his husband had been seated? It would have invited derision for sure.

Despite his shame, he walked over, taking the offered hand. He wanted to kneel down at his husband’s feet but before he could bend his knees, Yashaadu Naj leaned forward, grabbing him around the waist, and pulled him onto his lap.

Dayatar made a sound of surprise and held onto his husband’s shoulders for support. His heart pounded heavily in his ears and he felt disoriented.

Yashaadu Naj looked up at him, relishing in his expression. They seldom were this close outside of the time spent beneath the sheets. Dayatar would insist on following those aggravating rules until the last detail, rather putting a foot more distance between them before he did something wrong.

But sometimes, he managed to surprise him like this, gaining a moment where he could see him unguarded and where they were just a pair of husbands for once instead of the Kazahd and his subject. He really wished there would have been more times likes this but until Dayatar finally stopped wanting to follow the rules meticulously that wouldn’t happen. Which really was a pity.

Yashaadu Naj gave his husband a moment to catch himself before he reached up and brushed back the strands of black hair, smiling at him. “It was a long journey and this is a strange place, I know. But you need not worry. I will not let anything happen to you.”

Dayatar nodded. He did not doubt this. Not for a moment. What his husband said was always true. He was a man of his word. And he had never once felt unsafe at his side. No, the Kazahd would always protect his people.

Yashaadu Naj’s smile brightened and he craned his neck, kissing his husband’s lips. It was only a fleeting touch but it calmed Dayatar’s frantic heartbeat. The tension in his body lessened and he nestled up against his husband’s chest. His eyelids lowered and he took a faint breath. If he were to close his eyes, he could even pretend that they were still at home and not in this foreign place.

Yashaadu Naj observed his expression. Seeing that his skin seemed to have regained some color, he locked his fingers behind Dayatar’s back, shifting him a little so he would sit more comfortably, while his expression turned serious. “Are you angry with me?”

“Angry?” Dayatar’s eyes opened and he looked at his husband in wonder, forgetting for once that he wasn’t supposed to do so. His mind was preoccupied, wondering how his husband could come up with such an idea. How could he ever be angry at him?

Yashaadu Naj realized that for once, those almond eyes were directly looking at him. His heart thumped. He hoped that Dayatar wouldn’t notice or his husband would lower his gaze or even his head for sure. If possible, he did not want this moment to end.

He requited his gaze as calmly as possible, faintly inclining his head. “Or if not angry, then perhaps you are upset with me?”

Dayatar hurriedly shook his head. Whether it was being angry or being upset, he wouldn’t dare to. He had no reason to either. Why would his husband think so? His brows furrowed faintly when he thought of that question and he tilted his head to the side, his gaze leaving Yashaadu Naj’s face.

The Kazahd felt a sense of loss and reached out, gently grasping Dayatar’s chin and tilting his head back around. “Naj-il, I grew up in the palace. I saw people follow the rules, bend them as far as they could, or break them outright. I know you want to follow them. If you could, you would do so all the time.”

Dayatar seemed unsure of what to think of that. He just looked at his husband in confusion, not knowing where he wanted to go with this.

“I sometimes ask of you to ignore them. I usually make sure that it is when we are alone, so you will feel comfortable with it. But I know that it is my selfish desire to have you do this.”

Dayatar immediately shook his head. In his eyes, his husband could not be selfish.

Yashaadu Naj ignored it though. His husband’s thoughts on the matter, he knew them all too well. “The rules are still new to you. You want to follow them at any time because you are afraid to forget yourself for a moment. You think that if you never make any exception, then no accidents can occur.

“You are probably right. But while I am Kazahd, I am also just a man deep inside. I long to spend moments like this with you. I want to hold you, to look into your eyes, to have you speak up and tell me even if you are unhappy with me. Yes, sometimes, I just want to be a normal man. Your husband. Just that.”

Yashaadu Naj’s words reminded Dayatar that he should not have looked and he already wanted to look away when the rest of his husband’s words sank in. He hesitated, then raised his eyelids again, looking at him for a moment before he lost the courage again.

Yashaadu Naj sighed deeply. He had known this would happen. He kind of regretted it but then again, it was important to say this. “Well, I know it is difficult for you. If you can’t do it yet, I will not force you. Just take your time. Maybe in the future, you will be able to look me in the eyes and sit with me like this regularly. I would certainly welcome it.

“For today, let me apologize to you.”

At this, Dayatar looked up again, his eyes going wide while his mouth opened. He wanted to speak up, telling him that he had nothing to apologize for but then keeping quiet because he also didn’t want to tell the Kazahd what to do or not. Where would he take that right?

Yashaadu Naj waited for him to decide. When Dayatar finally lowered his head again without saying a word, he held back another sigh. “I know you must have been shocked when I told you to take Elder Aeliann’s hands.”

Dayatar lowered his head further, his hands that were still wrapped around his husband’s shoulders clenching into fists. Yes, he was clearly unhappy.

Yashaadu Naj gave him a moment to sort his feelings before he continued. “I did not want to hurt you. I know you are … faithful to me.” This was something he had never doubted. Despite his vagrant life before, Dayatar had clearly not known the touch of a man before he took him into the palace. This kind of person, he did not hold any doubt that he would be true to him.

“I also know you feel shamed because of what happened. If it had been a normal situation, I never would have allowed it either. But this …” He shook his head and then reached up, cupping Dayatar’s cheek. “I am worried about you.

“You didn’t hear it but people are whispering. It started shortly after you came to the palace and it did not stop no matter what I did. As your husband, as Kazahd, I should be able to stop this but nothing seems to work.” He had a few ideas why that might be.

In any case, with Dayatar not affiliated with any powers in the court, nobody profited off their relationship. And since Dayatar observed the rules of the court so meticulously, those people had no way to facilitate good relations with him either so that he could use his influence in their interest in the future.

If he had had anyone’s protection outside of Yashaadu Naj’s own, they might not have dared. But right now, it was impossible to say who had started the rumors so he could not punish anyone. They just hoped that this would take care of one of their problems. After all, with Dayatar gone, wouldn’t he spent more time with his wives again? They certainly thought that they would gain more influence on him this way.

Just thinking of this, he was furious. But his fury alone couldn’t solve the issue or it wouldn’t have been one for this long.

He took a deep breath and then sighed once more, finally rubbing Dayatar’s cheek with his thumb. “I might have waited things out and observed first but there isn’t enough time. As soon as something happens, they would accuse you. If, at that time, I did not have anything to prove that you are innocent, the consequences might have been dire.”

Dayatar glanced up after a moment, his gaze confused. “But you are Kazahd.”

“You must really think me almighty.”

Dayatar didn’t dare to nod when his husband said it like this but his gentle gaze told Yashaadu Naj everything he needed to know.

He laughed and shook his head at him. “Did I not teach you enough about the court yet? I may be Kazahd but there are many people involved in leading a country. All of them have their own interests, their own uses, their own dangers.

“You are vulnerable as long as you are not at my side. And this matter is one that could have endangered you. I wanted to solve it before it became an issue. For that …” He reached to his shoulders and grabbed Dayatar’s hands, holding them in his. “I am sorry but I had to do this to you.”

Dayatar kept quiet for a moment but then nodded. “I understand.”

“Do you?” Yashaadu Naj looked at him, his gaze searching.

Dayatar didn’t speak up immediately but then gave a hum. “This Elder is a magician, is he not? A very strong one, probably. And his word has weight even in Peraad I presume. If he says that I do not know magic, then the people in the court cannot say that I bespelled you. If you can prove it, you don’t need to know who started the rumor, you can punish anyone for spreading it further.”

Yashaadu Naj inclined his head, deep satisfaction in his eyes. “That is the case. As for this …” He raised Dayatar’s hand and rubbed his fingertips with his thumb before he lowered his head and kissed them one by one.

Dayatar lowered his head, not to follow the rules for once but because of his husband’s actions. Clearly, Yashaadu Naj did not mind in the least what had happened. He did not think lesser of him. In any case, all this had only been done to protect him. Rather than showing that his husband had tired of him, it was a show of his love.

Dayatar glanced up and caught his husband’s gaze. Before he could look away again, Yashaadu Naj reached up and gently grasped his chin.

“What is it, Naj-il?”

Dayatar hesitated. He never questioned his husband. What his husband decided was what should go. But there was indeed a question burning at the tip of his tongue. He would have liked to know the answer.

“Just ask.”

Dayatar hesitated for a moment longer but then spoke up. “There is nothing, Kazahd. I … I was just thinking that I didn’t quite understand your reasoning for not telling me beforehand.”

Yashaadu Naj wanted to nod with satisfaction when a peculiar look entered his eyes. Actually … his husband had once again danced around the issue. He hadn’t asked him. He had merely observed that he didn’t understand. Now it was up to him whether he wanted to enlighten him or not.

He sighed, his gaze turning indulgent. Well, trying to skirt around the rules was still better than nothing. He would take what he could get. “You are right. Maybe I should have.”

Dayatar hastily shook his head. He clearly hadn’t wanted to criticize his husband!

Yashaadu Naj ignored his protest though. “Not doing so was finally what led to you being confronted with the issue suddenly, not knowing what was to come or why I was asking this of you. I guess it played a part in upsetting you.”

Dayatar shook his head again but it was less fervent than just now. Clearly, the Kazahd had hit the nail on the head.

“To be honest, I was afraid. I know life in the palace isn’t easy. I know you might feel lonely at times when I can’t come to see you and that the many rules might seem overwhelming every now and then. Maybe you actually miss your freedom.”

Dayatar’s eyes widened and he shook his head for the third time in a row. He didn’t miss any of that! The life of a refugee was hard. Not just that but while there were no official rules to follow, you still needed to follow those you learned while wandering on the streets or you would make enemies for yourself and who knew how that might end when you were alone out on the roads?

And yes, the loneliness was the worst. You traveled the roads alone, you asked for people’s grace in the cities alone, and you would also lie alone at night, gazing up at the stars and wondering when somebody would bother to even talk to you again.

Usually, it might be a chatty priest that would like to tell you all about Ashakar, the same stories you had heard many, many times before. Dayatar had always listened despite that. Even if he had to hear it a hundred, a thousand times more, he would still listen to it. Because what else would he listen to?

Now though, there was somebody to tell him things. Not all of them were mere stories. His husband had told him about actual places, actual people, actual things. He remembered every moment and he cherished each of them.

The freedom of a refugee? He didn’t know what that was. He only knew that he was happy being the Kazahd’s husband despite the hurdles he had to overcome. He didn’t know how to tell his husband though. In the end, he just lowered his head and rested it against his husband’s shoulder, trying to show him that he would always rely on him for as long as he let him.

Yashaadu Naj gave a faint hum and rubbed his back. “Well, there wasn’t more to it than that. I figured that if I told you about all the problems you hadn’t even noticed that you might not want to stay. That was selfish of me. I realized when I saw how you reacted after we came to the city. I didn’t think you would take it this badly.” He sighed and then tilted his head, kissing the top of Dayatar’s head. “It is turning evening. Let us prepare to rest for the night. We seldom have the chance to spend this many hours together.”

Dayatar lifted his head again and nodded. At home, there was always somebody who would require the Kazahd’s attention. From the people at his court to guests from faraway places to Yashaadu Naj’s wives, there was always somebody.

At most, they would have a few hours in the evening or maybe a full night but that rarely lasted even until the first golden rays brushed upon their faces. And how many nights could be reserved for the only man in his harem when he could also lie with the women and sire more children?

Yes, this journey was a gift. One that not many would be made of. Naturally, Dayatar would cherish it.

He got up and went to gather the Kazahd’s clothes for the night as well as his own, also laying out the sets that they would wear tomorrow.

Yashaadu Naj watched him from where he was still sitting, his eyes closed halfway. He really liked Dayatar’s way of busying around. In those moments, he was completely focused on his task, not minding protocol or what his husband would think of him. He just quietly worked, handling one matter after the other until all was done. It made him look a little younger, a little less restrained, more like the version of him that he liked to see the most. Just like the day they had met.

Well, in the future, he was sure to see this more often. With just enough time and enough reminders, Dayatar would settle into his new role. He didn’t doubt that for a moment.

Yashaadu Naj finally got up when his husband had prepared everything and went to sit down on the edge of the bed just in time for Dayatar to turn around to him. He waved and his husband came over, climbing onto the bed behind him and picking up the brush he had readied to do his hair.

Usually, these kinds of things would be done by servant girls but Yashaadu Naj enjoyed letting his husband take care of him. The gentle brushstrokes seemed to comb away the worries of the day and the soft touches when he took off his clothes and helped him put on his garments for the night were like a sweet whisper of the hours to come.

Yashaadu Naj’s eyes did not leave Dayatar’s figure for even a moment and his gaze burned hotter when his husband quickly changed his own clothes before putting everything away. He did not say a word though and just stretched out his arms again when Dayatar turned back around.

His husband came over, looking a little bashful when he stepped into his arms. “Kazahd.” Surely, his thoughts had strayed to what might happen at night.

Yashaadu Naj smiled and pulled him closer and onto the bed, his gaze lingering on the beautiful face.

Dayatar held onto his husband’s broad shoulders but his gaze couldn’t help but flit to the side where the headboard of the bed was embellished with beautiful carvings.

Yashaadu Naj noticed his gaze and couldn’t help but chuckle. “Don’t worry, they’re not magical.”

Dayatar retrieved his gaze but after a moment, it already returned there. He didn’t know how the Kazahd was able to distinguish the magical ones from those that weren’t. To him, these ones didn’t look any different from the ones he had seen on the door to Elder Aeliann’s study.

Yashaadu Naj watched him, realizing that to Dayatar, everything had to be suspicious right now. He glanced up and realized that it was probably impossible to tell the difference just by looking. He thought for a moment and reached up to the headboard.

“Kazahd!” Dayatar yelped and reached out, clinging to his arm before his fingertips could touch the wood.

Yashaadu Naj raised his brows in surprise and then laughed at his expression. “It is harmless, Naj-il.” He did retract his hand though, not trying to give another demonstration.

Instead, he wrapped his arms around his husband’s middle and pulled him closer, just holding him for a moment. “You know, there is a lot of magic in Romallia but it is not just there for the sake of it. It is there for a reason.

“If you think of the door to Elder Aeliann’s study, then the carvings are enchanted so they can open it themselves. He doesn’t need to worry about whether he will have a hand free to do so himself.

“On some of the walls of the Arcademy, you can see carvings that form messages: announcements that the students should see, tasks that need to be solved, and otherwise, it will just be the rules of the school. I can show you tomorrow.”

Dayatar had gone still while his husband talked. Now that the Kazahd said it like this, it started to make sense. Magic was probably difficult and maybe even expensive to apply. Why waste it on something with no use?

Yashaadu Naj saw that he seemed a little calmer and reached up, brushing through his hair, his gaze touching upon Dayatar’s face. He looked … tired and a little scared despite his best attempts to calm him down.

The Kazahd stopped with his hand resting atop Dayatar’s head. “It was a long journey, a long day. There were many new things to see and I am sure you must be shocked. Don’t think too much.

“For today, let us go to sleep. Tomorrow, I will go to see Elder Aeliann again to put the court’s mind at rest completely and after that, I will take you through the Arcademy. If there is still time afterward, I will show you the city as well. There are many places you haven’t seen yet and you didn’t have the chance yet to look at any of the buildings I mentioned more closely. You will feel better when you have.”

Dayatar nodded and nestled up against his husband’s chest, trying to find some comfort in the familiarity of his silken robes, the warmth radiating off the skin beneath, and the scent of cardamom that clung to his body even after venturing out of the palace for so long.

It worked in part. But despite this and no matter how often the Kazahd told him not to worry, he still couldn’t shake this feeling of unease at being out in such a foreign place.

His husband was right in that he would feel better when he had seen and heard more about this place. If he knew, then he did not need to fear it. But right now, it wasn’t enough. No, right now, he was still afraid.

Everything he had seen over the course of this day and even the weeks of travel before made him tense. He understood some of these things but simply not enough. And until he did, he wasn’t sure if anything would change. He was in a state of constant agitation and nothing he tried to change seemed to work.

He hadn’t slept as well as usual and only in his husband’s arms could he find a semblance of peace and rest for a bit. But that had been when they had been on the road, encased in the somewhat familiar carriage they had switched to halfway through their journey.

Now that they were in a building he had only heard of today and that held such strange wonders he could not make sense of yet, it was much more difficult to calm down. He didn’t think that he would find any sleep tonight.

Yashaadu Naj realized as well that his words had not much effect. He reached up and brushed through his husband’s silky dark hair again, comforting him. The rhythmic strokes would usually calm his husband down but today, he realized that it wasn’t quite as useful.

Dayatar was still tensed, the worry clearly not dissipated in the least. The foreign sights on their way here had been difficult to bear but they had been outside the window of the carriage, sometimes far in the distance where they were nothing more but a faraway thought.

Compared to that, the magic of Romallia must have left him in dread. It was even more unfamiliar to him and close at hand to boot. He could not push it out of his mind after passing by because they had not passed by. They had stayed. And now, he had to live with the knowledge that he was at a place full of unknown dangers that he did not know about and could not escape.

Yashaadu Naj continued to stroke his back while he pondered. He did not want Dayatar to be afraid but while he could lessen the impact slightly by telling him more, he could not dissipate the fear completely.

If only there was something he could do. If only there was something that could quell Dayatar’s fear. But what he lacked right now was the familiarity of their home and if even his embrace could not give him that, then he was not sure how else to accomplish that.

What was home, really? And what was it for someone like Dayatar who had led a vagrant life? Apart from the palace, there likely wasn’t a place where he had stayed for more than a few weeks. He would arrive, do some work to earn a place for the night and some food and beg if there was nothing to do, maybe chancing upon some alms given out by the temples before he left, not wanting to overstay his welcome.

Was there anything that carried a feeling of belonging for him? A sight, a smell, a sound? Something he would feel drawn to, that would beckon him, envelop him as if welcoming a traveler that finally came home after a long journey?

He wasn’t sure. Maybe the sight of the Ashalaar’s red sand was like that since he had made his way through the lands around it, probably traversing bits and pieces at times.

Maybe it was the scent of the incense that the temples would burn as an offering to Ashakar since he had surely smelled it many times on his travels and the temples might have been a place of refuge more than others he encountered. Maybe he had felt safer there and the incense would remind him of that?

Yashaadu Naj was of half a mind to call for one of the servants to go and light some since they had surely taken some along. Even if they hadn’t, Romallia’s bazaar wasn’t far away and there should be some merchants from Peraad selling incense there. Even if they needed to wait for some time, it would be worth it.

In the end, he kept quiet though. Even if Dayatar had stopped at the temples often and found refuge there sometimes, those had always been different temples, different stations on his journey but it had never been his home. He had always known that after a night or maybe another day he would need to leave again.

There should be no feeling of belonging there, no relief of finally having found a place to just be. No, for Dayatar, such a place did not exist and thus, there was nothing that could remind him of it.

Home, that was a place he might long for but one he had not yet found. The palace could become that place but that needed time. Surely, Dayatar did not see it as such just yet. If he did, he would not insist on following the rules so meticulously. No, if the palace was his home, he would behave as if he was free to do as he wanted.

Yashaadu Naj’s brows faintly furrowed. He had a rough understanding of how Dayatar’s life had been before they had met but he had not asked about too many details, always feeling that it saddened his husband to talk about it. Sometimes, he would wonder but he never pushed too far, letting him keep to himself what he didn’t want to reveal.

His roots though, he had asked about those. He knew about his humble birth and also how he had lost his family. He knew how he had fled and started to live this way. As somebody who had always had a place to return to, he probably hadn’t understood what this meant though. Not really.

Only now that he wanted to evoke a sense of home and belonging in his husband did he realize that Dayatar had lost that as well. That thought … it pained his heart and it ignited it with the wish to be that place for him.

Maybe he had not had such a thing as a home for years and maybe it would need years for the palace to become something akin to it for Dayatar. But he might be able to feel that he belonged at his husband’s side and that was something that he could give him.

Yashaadu Naj tilted his head and kissed Dayatar’s forehead, his lips lingering on his skin while he thought back to what had made him feel at home. He wanted to share it with him, to let him have a part of what he had missed out on, even if it could only be given through another person.

When he pulled back, he hummed faintly, the sound quivering in the air.

Dayatar faintly raised his head, almost unable to believe his ears. Singing, that was something that the children did on the streets, or mothers in the safety of their houses when they wanted to calm down their newborn, or maybe the task of an entertainer that visited the court. But it was never something the Kazahd did.

But even though he could hardly imagine it, it was true. His husband was indeed humming. Dayatar felt anxious when he realized. He thought of the guards outside the door and what they would think when they heard.

He wanted to speak up, to somehow get him to stop but then he turned silent when the note changed, his body freezing up. He listened with rapt attention, staring at his husband’s face unbelieving. But the melody continued, sweeping his worries away, catching all the stray thoughts and guiding them, leading them to a far, far away place that was still so close to his heart.

What his husband was humming was a melody he knew all too well. It was an old lullaby of their homeland. He had heard it thousands of times. When he came to a city and passed by the houses in the evening, it would be blown through the street from a window on the second story. When he slept in one of the alleys at night, it would spill out from a door close by when a mother was trying to put a crying child to sleep. Faintly, darkly, he even remembered how it had once been sung to him.

Dayatar closed his eyes and rested his forehead against Yashaadu Naj’s chest, his fingers grasping onto the fabric. He felt the faint vibration beneath his fingertips and the corners of his mouth couldn’t help but curl up faintly.

Even though it might be disreputable for the Kazahd to sing, he was still happy. If, for once, he did not think about what the people of the court might say and just looked at this as a song he received from his own husband, then his heart was swelling with happiness.

Dayatar’s grip around his husband’s robe slackened a little and he inched closer. He stopped his musings and just listened, his heart following the up and down of his husband’s voice, slowly being lulled into the comfort of the familiar melody.

Yashaadu Naj continued to stroke his back, his palm moving from the nape of his neck down to the small of his back, following the curve of his spine and brushing the last bit of tension away. He hummed another couple of deep notes before his lips parted and he gently, reassuringly added the words of the verse: “Sleep tight, Naj-il, sleep wrapped in silk, until Ashakar opens her gate, until the goddess sends down her golden rays, sleep peacefully and undisturbed.”

His husband nestled up closer, now indeed lying peacefully in his arms as if the foreign sights of Romallia had never disturbed him and they were still at home, in the familiar rooms in the palace, lying beneath the silken sheets as the last rays of the sun faded outside the window.

Dayatar’s breathing evened out further with each word, making a smile enter Yashaadu Naj’s voice. He continued to sing until his husband drifted off into sleep and even then, he only faintly lowered his voice, not wanting to wake him again but still wanting to accompany him as he dreamed.

“When the morning arrives, when the warm breeze blows, I will wake you at the sun’s first kiss. To love you, to hold you, to caress your skin, Naj-il, my love, you brighten my days. For this night, for this week, for this year, forevermore, I will cherish you.”

Thus Ensylfera, the famous storyteller of the capital city, spoke:

“This is the end of the tale of the Kazahd Yashaadu Naj who solved the issue of his court with a visit to one of the esteemed Elders of Romallia’s Arcademy. It is also the end of the tale of his husband Dayatar who followed along on his journey, not knowing what awaited him.

After having achieved their goal, those two stayed in Romallia for two weeks, exploring the city that Dayatar had never set foot in before. When they returned to their kingdom with Elder Aeliann’s letter in hand, the rumors surrounding their relationship finally died down, and henceforth, they lived together in peace.

As for Yashaadu Naj’s wishes for their relationship, they were fulfilled, albeit several years after this journey had been concluded and he had taken Dayatar onto many others. When the day came for the Kazahd to pass on his throne to one of his sons, Dayatar was still at his side, sitting beside him while he announced his decision.”