Black Roses Chapter 30

De came awake in awful stages as usual, although his surroundings could have been worse. He wasn't cold for once, was swathed in blankets matter of fact. And there was a lingering warmth as if someone had shared his bed for at least a few hours. But that meant nothing. He felt that at times, had learned to ignore it. Of course he fucked occasionally for a variety of reasons but this was a different feeling.

Still, the dreams had been bad. As usual. When he was younger they had been about helplessness, about suffocating in a world that seemed to be closing in around him. Now, they were about hellfire and blood.

He needed to get a grip on his surroundings so he could deal with the day. It always took a few moments for him to get a grip on the world; to be able to nail himself down to a particular time and place.

He'd been plunged into chaos over the last few days, his life taking at least a half dozen precarious turns: in a way these constant upheavals had made him feel ready for anything.

In fact, his days in this miserable universe had *always* been horrible; this day was no different. Except, he remembered this one would be filled with even more crap than usual! And to add to the mess, he'd acted like a complete and utter child yesterday morning. Crying in Rhion's arms--! The mere thought disgusted him and he cut it off sharply.

Ready for everything, except this golden boy who materialized out of nowhere as soon as he blinked awake. This sparkling creature, who seemed wrapped in stardust with a plate of fruit muffins and a ruffled look.

"Oh, you're awake!" Rhion observed cheerfully, good as usual at stating the obvious! But his grin could have dazzled a troll into a pleasant mood, and Damian wasn't immune though he should have been. If he hadn't been so stunned, in fact, he would have had a struggle to not smile back.

"When I came home yesterday and found you laid out on the couch, I decided not to bother you beyond putting you to bed. Not that it woulda done me a damn bit of good to try and wake you. I think you were out cold with exhaustion, didn't even stir when I picked you up. Probably to the good; you would of just starting arguing about it!"

"You put me to bed?" De asked, not really interested in the answer as he did a complete double take of Rhion. Not entirely sure he was seeing what he thought he was seeing- - - perhaps he was hallucinating? That had to be it, didn't it?

Rhion snorted. "Of course! Not the first time either, but I don't care to remind you of that. I'll be damned if I'm sleeping alone because you overdo and pass out, though! You dragged me along for this ride, so there are perks to this situation, you know?" Rhion smiled brightly before adding in a heavy but playful accent "Them be the rules, your lordship."

Rhion bent closer to De, noticing his unwavering expression. "Damn that Thaddeus! He got here early- - -and with a fucking passel of clothing. Managed to get me in a skirt after all- - -I give up, the old bastard is unbelievable! But the muffins are the important thing; I never tried apples in the mix before let alone chocolate; it was a bitch getting the proportions right, let me tell you!

Rhion bent down to steal a kiss. De didn't offer much resistance, basically he felt like someone hit by a falling star despite Rhion nattering on about the tailor and cooking. He stared at what the soft, gold-tinged shirt and lower garments revealed. Quite a lot, the shirt was sleeveless and the short, softly weaved kilt clung to everything Rhion had and outlined rather than covered his attributes. A stone virgin would have stared at the half-nude, blushing human with his loose gilt hair and dancing amber eyes!

De swallowed and stared twice as hard, trying to look critical and pretty sure that he failed on some level. How the hell had the tailor charmed Rhion into these garments? They might not have been "silk" but they were definitely some lush, clinging fabric totally unrelated to the blond's usual sturdy leather gear.

"Happy birthday!" he offered, as if the words explained everything including his immodest clothing. "And don't you bother trying to go anywhere- - -I've got stuff in the oven! And presents waiting. You'll stay here or- - -else. And I'll stay here basically because I wouldn't dare show myself in these clothes anywhere outside a bedchamber!"

The blond put a menacing look on his handsome face that at this point could only be amusing. At a loss for what else to do, De reached for the plate on his chest and gathered a muffin to him.

"Birthday?" he whispered. He knew what day it was, of course! But why was Rhion behaving- - -this way- - -about something so essentially troublesome? He nibbled at the muffin just to be doing something while he sorted it all out; to his own surprise, the treat was gone in three quick bites. Well, nobody cooked like Rhion!

Rhion grinned even more if that was possible, and leaned in for a very demanding kiss. "Waffles on the way, with whipped cream and other stuff. Damn, look at you glaring at me like I stole your wallet. Never had breakfast in bed I guess! Well, enjoy; this is your day and I refuse to take offense at anything!"

He'd been cooking, that was why, and sampling his own product liberally as usual. But also, that taste seemed to define him somehow, by its sweet warmth and richness. Funny, to think of a big gawking human as "sweet!"

De closed his eyes, accepted the taste and the moment as if it all meant something. "Be careful, I could get used to this- - -!" The warning was only half a tease; he felt Daniel inside him, swelling with sappiness. No way in hell!

This was not the way things were supposed to happen! He'd had a plan damnit! And then Rhion had come along and ruined it. How was he supposed to get where he needed to be after having found Rhion- - -fallen in love- - -no, found love! Only fools fell into love.

Real love was discovered, renewed- - -reawakened from the ashes of the past, when the universe had been a swirling thing full of living, breathing entities that simply wanted to share their life-force with another of their kind. Only those born from the same celestial essence could unite, and only they found contentment in that union.

The fact that Damian had found that here, in this world had been a wondrous event! Almost too much to comprehend and yet he'd known it every second of every minute they'd been together.

It wasn't that De didn't welcome the find- - -it was just that it couldn't have come in a more dangerous place. If anyone found out, they'd use Rhion and those the human loved like a weapon against the two of them.

And the gods, what about them? Many of them didn't favor him- - -hell some of them down right hated him- - -for any of them to find out he'd located his Shan-tru- - -well, that could only spell disaster! It could mean separation of the most devastating kind. It was one thing to be physically separated from your bonded, it was another to be supernaturally cut from them and thrust into the abyss.

He could no sooner have denied the connection than he could have willingly cut off his own arm- - -well he could have done that if necessary but not without a damn good reason. You didn't cut into unspoiled flesh without a motive- - -and the only motive De could consider at the moment was fear- - -fear of what could happen.

He wouldn't tell Rhion about their connection, because the human obviously didn't understand it. And knowing the depth of their bond would either unsettle him, or put him in danger- - -probably both. So he would just have to keep his thoughts to himself.

There was also a third possibility, the older boy might not believe him- - -and that was the worst possible outcome of the three. De didn't know if he could handle loving someone that deeply and being rejected. Rhion didn't have to love him the same way- - -but if he didn't feel it- - -couldn't touch the bond, then De didn't want to know about it.

Sometimes these finds were one sided, his mother had told him all about Shan-tru lovers, and how the bond worked. The pair wasn't always in sync and sometimes the bond was buried so deep, by so many lifetimes that it could never be uncovered, at least for one of the pair.

De wasn't sure- - -Rhion's soul felt young to him, and De thought this might have been his first life, but then again people said that about him and even though he couldn't remember the people he'd been before, he knew he wasn't brand new as some has accused him of being.

It was a lot to speculate about, and he'd have to pay closer attention to Rhion and all his little quirks, maybe a stint of observation would give him more to go on- - -and maybe a seeking- - -if he could find enough time to perform one.

He would also have to teach Rhion a thing or two. The boy was too apparent in his motivations, and as good as he was at keeping his emotions hidden, his actions often gave his true feelings away.

De hadn't seen it before because he'd been too busy wondering at Rhion's odd behavior- - -but the older boy cared about him, perhaps couldn't help himself due to their bond, but as oblivious as De had been, Mish'shy and Deathwalker had been just the opposite. If they'd have been in different company, that knowledge could have been deadly.

Rhion also never took advantage of his ability to read other people; it was obvious that he understood them to a deep degree but he never utilized that understanding into a beneficial outcome. Nor did he use the tell-tale signs that were obvious in everyone to play them.

Oh fuck -- not the White Council's notion of "good", with their laws and stupid angels and total rigid focus on right behavior. Rhion had joined them because he wanted to be on the right path, true.

But once they'd done something he considered wrong he'd quit them in a heartbeat. Cried for the supposedly evil boy they'd crucified. And he wouldn't use his abilities, his undoubted gifts, for anything he considered wrong either!

De lay there in a semi-trance, stunned by this revelation as well as the knowledge of what Rhion was to him. And more than ever determined to train him somehow without revealing their ultimate bond to anyone.

Instead, De smiled at the man in question as he came back into the room, to hide the fact that he was still thinking furiously. "The skirt suits you!" he remarked, surprised to find his voice a shade husky. How to begin this discussion? He couldn't help noticing his voiced interest made the gold-stitched brown plaid stir a trifle and that was -- distracting.

"It's called a 'kilt' and Thaddeus informs me that men of the barbarian persuasion sport the things instead of pants! Not much protection if you wear nothing underneath." Rhion shook his head sadly at the stupidity of barbarians. De's mind lost a bit of focus then, as he couldn't help realizing that Rhion was following the same practice as the barbarians he mocked. This kilt thing was short enough to reveal a "lot" every time Rhion moved. And one thing definitely not in evidence was underwear!

Before De could get too distracted, the blond man dropped the packages he carried onto the bed abruptly. One of them just seemed like an enthusiastic wad of blue and green paper. The other was obviously a small box, but bundled into an odd shape with the same colors prevalent.

De eyed the messy, colorful objects warily. They clearly weren't a food offering like the muffins, but Rhion was looking at him expectantly and he had no idea what to do next. He hated that more than anything; damn the man for always managing to throw him off balance!

Something of this must have come through in his expression, because Rhion managed to chuckle and look a little upset at the same time. "You're a prince," he pointed out unnecessarily. "Surely you've received birthday presents before? They're for you; open them!" Rhion demanded, when De merely stared at him blankly. "I mean, pull the paper off and see what's under it, dammit!" The blond was nearly dancing with excitement by now. He seemed to have gone totally insane.

"They're -- gifts?" Of course De had received such offerings before, but always in exchange for some favor, or as a bribe for future preferment. And they hadn't come clumsily taped up in bright paper. What was Rhion up to, insulting him this way? "If you want something, just ask and I'll say no or yes," De snapped. "There's no need to barter with me at this point!" After yesterday, the man should have a clue to how De --felt -- about him! He'd expected Rhion of all people to be smarter than this.

Rhion blinked, and studied him as if he was a wrong ingredient in a soup. "De. All I want is for you to like what I got for you. This isn't payment for something else. It's just because the day is special. To me anyway, if not to you!"

"Why would you do this?" It was an honest question, and De couldn't keep the mystification from his voice. "I require no formal offerings from you. And if they were merited at all, it's not proper protocol for those of light houses to give birth offerings to those of dark." Gifts were a form of 'thanks' among his people when they weren't given as enticements.

It was a way of thanking someone for being born -- for their presence in the world. As though they'd had some choice in the matter, De thought crossly -- he certainly would have never chosen this life!

Then he looked at Rhion and realized that wasn't entirely true. To have Rhion he'd have chosen pains far greater than this life had dealt him. He hadn't thought so when he was younger, but now -- maybe!

Rhion stared at him for a second, his brow drawing in slightly. "You think this is political? Hasn't anyone ever given you a birthday gift before, De"?

"Yes, every year---thousands of them." De couldn't keep the weariness from creeping into his voice. Birthdays has been a chore when he was growing up, the day had often started with him being dragged from his bed and forced to bathe in the ceremonial waters of Leal, it was a cleansing ritual to show the dark gods he was still alive and safe and in the care of those to whom he'd been given. It was a nice thought---but safe was something De had never felt! Not in Lee's house anyway.

Then he'd had to let the priests anoint him with oils---which required a lot of touching, it hadn't been so bad when he was younger---but later it had been a nightmare having so many unwelcome hands on his bare flesh.

After that he'd been dried off, dressed in the finest royal adornments and dragged to the cathedral of the Black Rose to make blood offerings to the gods who'd placed him here. Everyone turned out to watch this procedure---and as much as De despised thanking those bastards for his earthbound life, he'd done it---every damn year!

Then it was back to the castle and the parade of gift givers began. All the dark house gave him gifts, grand expensive things that were meant to show *their* status---not his. At least that had been De's take on that matter.

Not one member of the white houses had ever sent him a thing! No one wanted to thank the darkness for being born, though sometimes Lee had sent Antonio's house gifts---De had never quite understood that, since it wasn't proper but Lee and the blonde man who led them (Rhion's older brother) seemed unduly close to be from houses of the opposite persuasion.

The Dark Houses had given him weapons, thousand-year-old wines that had been cured in mystical places, rare oils, jewels and clothes---the last being the only thing he'd ever lay hands on. And then only because he'd been expected to wear them at formal events. All the rest would be opened by others, and stored away by them until De became a man and took his place at the head of his own household.

Rhion studied De closely as the boy's mind recalled birthdays past, and then he spoke gently---almost as if he knew the answer. "Have you ever been given a non-formal gift? One that someone gave you just because they liked you? I guess not."

De's eyes snapped back to Rhion, and the blond laughed softly, a little sadly. "No need to glare, De---it's just a question." Rhion's tone was gentle and it took a moment for De to get over the shock of Rhion implying he 'liked' him.

"Why do you always accuse me of glaring at you?" Another much too honest question, but De truly wanted to know the answer. Glaring implied that he was angry---and he wasn't.

Rhion reached out and touched the middle of De's crinkled forehead. "When I say certain things you tend to glare---maybe it's unconscious." Rhion looked thoughtful as if he'd just realized something important. "Do I confuse you that much, De?"

Rhion considered De's words and looked at him so directly and seriously it was close to a touch. "These gifts---are because I like you and I want to share this day with you---nothing more, just that." And there it was again that purely good person that mystified De so thoroughly.

Rhion smiled brightly at him, and urged the first gift on him impatiently. "I swear, just getting you to indulge me in my lunacy is gonna be an effort." De agreed but he got the impression that Rhion wasn't quite saying what he meant---it didn't matter, Rhion could keep his secrets---because De planned on keeping a few of his own.

When he peeled away the paper and saw the set of paints he stopped before the gift was even fully uncovered and stared at it. No one had ever given him such a simple gift before, something he would actually use---something that reflected his actual interests.

De finished peeling away the paper through sheer determination not to get caught up in an emotional moment. He slowly revealed the whole color scale and a set of brushes---all fine quality---not the finest but good enough to suit even a picky artist. "I put in a standing order for the paints and there are canvases in the storage room off from the kitchen." Rhion said with some measure of excitement in his voice, as if just the giving of the gift had pleased him greatly. "Thaddeus told me they have paints that include glitter in the mix, but I'm too dumb to order that at the moment, maybe later!" He hesitated, then added quietly, "I hoped you would like it; I wasn't---sure."

"I don't know what to say---!" De admitted, looking back up at Rhion. Whatever the older boy saw in his face made him smile even brighter.

"Well, obviously you're not one to get all giddy about surprises---but that's okay, we'll work on it. " De smiled thennervously! He wasn't sure what to think---no, that wasn't it---he wasn't sure what to feel.

Every emotion that came to mind was inappropriate and usually when that was the case he slapped on his---glare, as Rhion called it and actively dismissed whoever had inspired it, but for some reason he couldn't do that this morning.

"Thank you." He might have went on to say 'this means a lot to me' but that seemed like too much after his emotional outburst the day before and it might very well start another out pouring---and he just couldn't do that again not without snapping so he just sat there cradling the paints and feeling overwhelmed.

"There's another present!" Rhion urged, almost as if he were trying to coax a scared kitten to eat. De realized then that he was acting foolish---entirely too sentimental for a grown prince, and the thought gave him a strong enough nudge to enable him to roll his eyes at Rhion and reach for the other package.

"If this is what you desire to waste your money on, who am I to stop you." De had no idea what the monetary value of things was, he'd been taught mathematics but he'd never been to the market---not even to window shop.

In fact, most of his outings had been rigidly planned, and always for political reasons. There were never any side trips, or unexpected stops---for the most part De could have told you what he'd be doing on any given day, a year in advance when he'd lived under Lee's roof. It was a schedule he'd been expected to memorize.

Even when his father had sent him to the village, all he had to do was request items and they appeared---so De had no idea if Rhion had wasted money or not. All that mattered to him was that the gift was something thoughtful---something that was truly for him.

The next gift gave him a little pause---boots---De hated shoes as a rule, preferring to go bare footed when allowed. It hadn't been an option on Leal most of the time, and never during political events.

De, even now, was only five foot ten and his father had insisted he wear the boots that added another three inches to his height---bringing him to a lacking six foot one---that was short among his people who were closer to an average of six foot five bare footed.

De had always been smaller, and it soon became obvious that he'd never match his father's height regardless of their similarities otherwise. It had been a sore spot---not for him---since De actually cared little for his position and all the intricacies that surrounded it.

De's only real desire was not to have to bend his will to the desires of others, and if being king meant he had no one to answer to but himself---then that was what he'd strive for.

Even at seventeen De knew that power was a necessity---and that he wouldn't be safe until he reached the height of his. How far that would take him he didn't know, nor did he care. He would climb that ladder until its end.

That didn't mean he had to wear shoes---especially shoes with a three-inch heel meant only to remind him of what his father thought of as one of his many inadequacies.

Looking more closely at the boots De noticed there was no heel, that it was smooth and soft on the bottom, not having a hard sole exactly but being very sturdy despite it. They came just to the top of his ankle and could be pulled on without being tied up.

They were simple black boots made of leather that had been worked to the point of being ridiculously soft. De's first thought was 'slave' fabric---since slaves were often dressed in silks and satins---anything that lent to their overall appeal, or rather took away from their masculinity if they happened to be male. It wasn't that male slaves always looked feminine (few did)---but they were pretty, and never dressed in the leathers meant for warriors---not in a Leviathan house.

And obviously warriors never dressed in clothes meant for slaves---but nothing about the boots other than their obvious comfort made them anything other than a man's boot.

Rhion's---kilt? was decidedly wayyy more 'slavish' than De's new boots and with that thought De smiled fiercely unable to help himself. He didn't look up, still running his fingers over the design that was etched into the side of the boot using slightly darker threads and what seemed to be thin, colored metals that stiffened the boot slightly without negating the softness.

"It's a kilt!" Rhion emphasized each word. "Talk about a delayed reaction." But the twinkle in his eyes indicated that he wasn't displeased, in fact had hoped for this response although maybe a bit earlier.

He continued, trying to sound casual yet studying De's reaction through the long fall of his lashes. "The old bastard did charge me up the nose for those boots; he's pretty canny regarding the worth of his craft. But I understand Mish-shy gives me a salary so that means HE paid for them!"

The smirk on Rhion's face was priceless, but De had no trouble hearing the undertones; the fact that the price had been worth it if De was pleased, whether the demon king had been stiffed or not.

Before De could decide how to react or even feel, Rhion's face changed almost comically and he turned from his enticing lean over the bed and ran for the kitchen, swearing a blue streak.

De arched an eyebrow, looking toward the empty doorway and wondered what the hell a waffle was and why it seemed so important to Rhion. What he knew about cooking could have been tallied on one hand---and foods--well, just like everything else his father had dictated what would and wouldn't be served in his house. Neither breakfast food nor sweets had been among Lee's weaknesses.

As a child De had lived off of barely cooked red meat, war rations and bloodwine---all of it was perfectly acceptable---he even liked it to a point but it was monotonous fare to say the least.

Rhion reappeared almost on cue at the thought, huffing slightly and bearing a covered tray. Servants did such things in De's world, but Rhion had neither the stance nor the attitude of any servant De had ever seen.

An enticing aroma of cinnamon followed him as he placed the tray on the long, low table near the bed and swept off the covering. There was a large plate of patterned squares that De assumed to be a type of bread, stacked almost geometrically.

"There's whipped cream, three flavors of syrup, and chocolate sauce," Rhion grinned, placing some small vials of the mentioned flavorings around the stack of "waffles". "Dig in, what are you waiting for? Me? Don't bother!"

De eyed Rhion for a second, seriously considering tossing the plate across the room and ripping Rhion's kilt right the hell off---but he was hungry, and he'd never tried a waffle before. He was also willing to bet good money that the older boy wouldn't turn him down ten minutes from now when he was ready to do just that, so instead of jumping him then and there he dumped a bit of the warm chocolate syrup over the edge of one of the treats and tried it.

He looked intensely at the other boy, real appreciation sweeping over his expression. "Is there nothing you can't cook, Rhion?" It was an amazing skill to De, very akin to his art and it was worth a few compliments.

"Not much that I know of!" Rhion admitted, realizing this was praise and obviously basking in it. "But I'm always learning and that's the truth. Mixing things together into something that tastes good is an art, akin to alchemy! You start with a passel of random crap and end up with something---new. Some meat dishes give me trouble but I'm good with the sweet stuff. Though I say it myself. But you don't want to hear me rattling on about cooking!"

"Damn all waffles," he remarked. Then to De's total astonishment Rhion grabbed his hand instead of the food. With a melting, sappy look the blond reached for the container of whipped cream, pushed De back on the bed, and dumped the entire contents of the jug on his body.

"Oh good grief, excuse me for spilling, I'll clean it up right away!" Rhion vowed. He proceeded to do just that by leaning down and beginning to lap up the mess industriously, managing to toss a flirting glance up at De before getting down to business in an almost serious manner.

Strangely, De felt himself split in two at this point. Most of him---of course!stared down lustfully as the golden-haired creature now gripping his thighs began to gleefully slurp dribbles of melting cream from his chest, stomach, and lower.

"Shan'tru. Just what we *don't* need at the moment!" The voice in his head was his and yet it wasn't---it was cold and angry! Full of rage for all the pains he'd suffered. Not just in this life, but in a thousand others just like it.

He was the darkness inside Damian--and not to be mistaken for the ancient being De could become when necessary, the one who was wise beyond even immortal comprehension. That creature was disturbingly intense but completely sane if you could understand the mind of a god.

No this was the evil bastard who played with people on the battlefield--- who licked innocent blood from his blade's edge with eyes full of wicked delight.

Damian had more than two faces---he and Daniel weren't the only creatures, who resided in this earthbound body, but Daniel at least was his own person. If it hadn't been for Damian's early intrusion the human boy would have owned the body they now shared. He was full and complete, not pieces of a whole.

The others were all part of De in some way, levels of his consciousness that marked his path from mortal to god. A thousand cobblestones, to mark a thousand lifetimes all merging into three distinct beings---Damian the godling child who represented the present, who was a mere babe in the grand design---Dia'mond the living god of darkness, the final product of eons of experience---and finally the Black Dragon, the creature that was madness incarnate. He was the leftover remnants of suffering so thick it was enough to drive even a god insane.

It was he who spoke----the Dark One that rested in the deepest recesses of De's mind---it was he who questioned Rhion's place by their side.

He was the one who could let those demons who already felt jealousy toward Rhion kill him, it would be more efficient in his mind---less messy. They could do it in an instant, his Silver Circle.

They could do it painlessly, in the night. Or if not death, drugs. Rhion's mind could be fuddled, he could be sent back to his Carlonday house without a single memory of Damian, now or ever----

"If you don't want your dick sucked, just say so," Rhion observed in a dignified tone. "There's no need to yell at me." But the faint twinkle in his marvelous eyes betrayed him as he bent forward yet again. "Still---you can't get rid of me that easily. Not after I've spent all this fucking cash on your birthday!"

"You're learning," he said with approval, and then lowered his warm, marvelous mouth over the tip of De's erection and tongued him gently. Teasingly. "But maybe you still would rather I stop annoying you?"

But no one else would ever be able to melt his bones, smear his thoughts, make him ache for he knew not what. And no one would touch Rhion, body or mind, no one! Rhion belonged to him whether he must hide the fact or not!

De caught the blond's long loose hair in his fists and pulled him down hard. "You won't stop annoying me as long as you live, so you might as well be productive about it!" he hissed, thrusting up aggressively.