Not Exactly a Secret [Fanfic]
Title: Not Exactly a Secret
Author: MorriganFearn
Rating: M
Characters: Rutger, Dieck, Clarine, Sue, Fir, Klein, Saul
Genre: Romance, Friendship, Hurt/Comfort (still not clear what that is as a genre, but it's prolly the closest to accurate I'll get)
Pairings: Rutger/Dieck
Summary: It's not exactly a secret that Rutger has some aggression to work through. It is a bit of a surprise that Dieck is interested in this. But as the first half year of the War Against Bern rolls on, the status quo they create begins to change.
Title: Not Exactly a Secret - Part 15
Author: MorriganFearn
Rating: T
Characters: Rutger, Dieck, Clarine, Klein, Tate, Wendy, Astol, Barth
Genre: Friendship, Romance, Introspection
Pairings: Rutger/Dieck
Summary: It's not that Dieck has something to hide, he just wanted to keep his past close to his chest.
Warning: So this part contains someone, who is not versed in the ways of bondage, playing with bondage, and triggering his partner because they didn't do a whole lot of discussion beforehand, or set up structures to make it work for both of them. Also, chances are that if the fun and games had lasted longer than three minutes it would have been pretty physically uncomfortable because let's be honest, makeshift bondage gear figured out on the spur of the moment is generally not what you should be going with for everyone's happiness. But mostly this chapter is about coming out of a bad situation, and repairing damage. Even so, this is one of the chapters where trauma is brought up, and if any of it comes off as too rushed, or badly written, or in terrible taste, let's discuss it and make that section better.
Previous Part (Leave Preparations) Next Part (Castle Idina)
Not Exactly a Secret: Part 15
“Yes, Captain?” Wendy looked around at the three, her eyebrows raised.
“We've been in talks with the townspeople about what to do about the fort, and the provost has decided that they're going to hire my remaining squad members at winter rates to staff the fort, along with General Klein's bowmen to give the mercenaries legitimacy,” Tate began, running her fingers through her hair. “Look, my wing are all talented and experienced, but we've never had to run a full fort before, much less trying to fool an army that might be expecting to talk to Zinc sometime before spring. I had hoped we'd have a few more days, but we don't. May I borrow you and the rest of the veteran knights to share your knowledge of this kind of work with my squad?”
“You may have me, certainly, Captain Tate,” Wendy rose to attention in a clattering of plate. “I can't speak for anyone else though. But where would you like this lesson?”
“Well, my squad is guarding the inland foragers right now. If it wouldn't be too much trouble, we could go to them and start right away.”
At the mention of going to find the foraging party, Sir Barth looked less than enthusiastic. On a less hale man, Rutger would have said his expression was exhausted. “I suddenly understand a wise proverb one of the old Ostia sergeants used to use when I was training: Between the terrain and the early mornings, I am going to lose any hair I have left. Lead on, Captain Tate. I assume you'll be able to find everyone from the air once you get your pegasus. I will go tell Sir Bors that he is needed to supervise the young mages.”
“That's not really what I'm here to do, sir,” Wendy protested. “Er, my role was to be avoid-the-target practice.”
Barth just gave her a look. “I know. However, even if this is like morning exercise to them, someone should be watching while they play with fire.”
Wendy colored, but strode after Tate, as the knight made a bee-line for the stables. Not so subtly, Dieck slid into the spot she vacated. “Aren't you supposed to be out salting mackerel or something?”
Rutger crossed his arms against the cool air. “If you drag the net in and dump it, there are others to make up for the fact that you were out in the ocean before sun up. I am free to practice my sword work, or simply marvel at the wonders of mages for the rest of the day. Do you want to join me?”
“Watching Lugh and Lilina argue over a book? There are worse ways to spend time, I suppose.”
“I meant if you would like to join me in a practice bout,” Rutger repeated, but he knew the answer already was 'no' and he was basically glad for it. Repaired blisters aside, the morning's work had left him feeling lazy. “How did your tactical meeting go?”
“Fairly well, once Elphin dropped in to say that the marching orders were underway. That got the townspeople to stop haggling over the necessity of mercenaries at last. He's got a good way of breaking news to people.”
And that way seemed to have everyone dancing to his tune. Rutger decided Elphin was not a subject he really wanted to raise at the moment, though. It was not as though the bard was the only one keeping secrets, and he seemed genuinely interested in getting rid of the Etrurian army. He didn't even seem to like Klein or the rest of the archer squad that much, even though Elphin was friendly to everyone else, and Klein was everything Clarine claimed him to be, even if not as liable to glow, and make grass grow where he walked.
Maybe Elphin was like Dieck, and uneasy around Etrurian nobles. And maybe Rutger should stop reminding himself exactly how much Dieck held in common with a mature intelligent man who looked as though he had stepped out of an Etrurian ballad in praise of their idea of beauty.
“So,” Rutger changed the subject. “Are you ready to leave in the pre-dawn with the stars shining over us?”
“Mmm,” Dieck glanced at the gray sky, and rubbed his hands together, blowing on cold fingers. “Tell you what: ask that question when I'm tossing you out of your austere little corner tomorrow morning.”
Rutger smiled. “Sleeping under Thany's bunk has given you fresh ideas. I thought you didn't like getting attacked from dark corners.”
“You don't like being woken up that energetically?” Dieck's voice oozed innocence. “If only you'd chosen a part of the barracks a little closer to the rest of the army, no one would have to worry about you sleeping through the tide.”
Rutger did not miss the glancing smirk, and he elbowed Dieck in the side. This coming from a man who had been complaining the other night that even with a weapons'
rack and several storage chests between Rutger's bed and the rest of the barracks, they were far too close to the rest of the sleeping army-particularly Chad, whose bunk was almost as removed as Rutger's, though he had at least stored his gear on the top bunk to keep from having to share.
Throwing his head back, Dieck surveyed the gray sky. “You know, it looks like rain. We probably won't have much time outside-”
“Klein!” Clarine yelled, waving eagerly at her brother who was coming from the front gate with a group of his archers. With the bows in evidence, target practice must have been on the schedule, but little sisters with loud voices tended to take precedence. “See how well I'm doing! We've almost got the fire spell figured out!”
Dieck's hand stole over Rutger's, his thumb circling a knuckle, until Rutger turned his attention away from the courtyard. Dieck's lazy smile had an anticipatory edge to it, as he raised his eyebrows invitingly. “Hey, with everyone out and about, the barracks should be empty now, and if the rain comes, we'll all be stuffed inside like apples in a basket. This might be the only chance to be alone for who knows how long.”
Rutger felt the eagerness to get away in the soft pull on his hand, and the set of Dieck's shoulders. Very like his stance just before he jumped out of sword range when they were fighting, actually. Rutger would go along with it, but, as Clarine drew Klein over to her training ground, Rutger saw the way Dieck's eyes were tracking the former Etrurian General.
Well, Rutger had no problem humoring a desire to get away from too many people. Even if the desire was a little too focused, and odd for a personable man like Dieck. Casually slinging his arm around Dieck's waist, Rutger started walking toward the castle. “All right. Maybe when we're alone, you can tell me why you spend so much energy avoiding Clarine's brother.”
As he had expected, the suggestion caused all of the muscles under his hand to tighten, but Dieck continued to walk, a dry chuckle escaping as soon as they made it past the main doors.
“So you noticed, huh?”
Rutger rolled his eyes. “You're not a subtle man. Is this something I should know?”
“No. Not really,” the fond smile in Rutger's direction was full of the assurance that Dieck would try to sidestep any direct questions. “Klein's a reminder of things long past, that's all.”
“And if I asked him about you?”
Servants had heard their footsteps, obviously, as a boy hastened through the corridor, checking on torches, and leaving a trail of sputtering lights in his wake. Dieck glanced after him as the boy ran past, but they continued toward the barracks without a break in stride. “I'd rather you didn't.”
Rutger felt familiar fingers on his hip, and knew that even if Dieck was not fond of the questions, he wasn't objecting to the fact that Rutger was asking them. The real question was whether it was worth it to push. On the one hand what affected Dieck might end up affecting him. On the other, he was tired, and there were always other time to ask questions.
Rutger decided not to, though he couldn't help adding: “I'm not going to aid every scheme of yours to keep away from him. For one thing, it's too complicated.”
“Oh? Maybe that's good for you, though. Getting forced into people's lives, being left to deal with complication,” Dieck drew him in, pressing Rutger against the frame of the nearest bunk bed as he kissed the skin between his eyebrows.
Rutger took the attempt at subtlety for what it was, running a warning fingertip along Dieck's jaw, digging in the nail at the last second. “Don't make me care for people, and if you don't want me to complain,” Rutger paused significantly, before he reached up, wanting very much to see Dieck lick blood from his lips.
A loud cough interrupted what should have been a biting remark. Both mercenaries turned their heads as a bed creaked, and Astol climbed down from the top. The older man smiled at them crookedly as he reached the floor. “So, are you two just inconsiderate, or not much for privacy?”
Rutger slowly moved his hands down Dieck's shoulders, staring fixedly at Astol, waiting for the spy to blink. Apparently, hard stares had little effect on the man. Maybe thieves were inured against people daring them to make a move.
Rutger was almost ready to give way when Dieck's grip on his side tightened. “Just-didn't see you. We didn't think anyone would be here. Do you want us gone?”
“No, no, I'm clearing out. Lady Lilina probably is going to want the tome she was looking for this morning some time before the solstice. You two have fun. Warrior types rarely get much free time, after all, do they?”
They watched him glide out the door in silence. Rutger wondered at that parting shot, but he doubted that Astol's undoubtedly disreputable thoughts were any real concern of his. Winter was only going to be worse. Everyone stuck inside wherever they ended up making camp, enforced closeness with no privacy.
Dieck just sighed. “Well, that ruined the mood. Not that it was a great mood to begin with. Can we start over with more kissing?”
“I'm willing to postpone any conversation about Etrurian nobles,” Rutger agreed, running his fingers over old scars, before shoving Dieck towards the nearest weapons chest. He stalked toward his bed, unclipping his scabbard from his belt. When his weapon was properly stored in the cavernous space under the bed, Rutger turned, arms crossed as he waited for Dieck to regain his balance.
“You're never going to learn how to ask nicely, like 'hey, get off of me, my one track mind has discovered my bed' are you?” the big mercenary rubbed his shoulder as he approached Rutger.
Rutger frowned. “Do you want me to?”
Closing what little gap there was between them, Dieck encircled Rutger's waist, turning and pulling until he was sprawled on the bottom bunk, with Rutger on his lap. In the shadowy corner, Dieck reached up to tuck Rutger's hair behind an ear. “No. Luckily for you I'm not really breakable, and it's a bit of a rush. Also your enthusiasm's cute. I like not worrying about you.”
Rutger walked his fingers down Dieck's arm, trying to match each ripple and dip of skin with a scar he knew. “I thought you were worried about me and my sleeping habits.”
“That's just the big stuff. It's nice being with someone who doesn't make me worry about holding back. You're not any more breakable than I am,” Dieck's teeth flashed in a grin.
Rutger wanted to point out that Dieck had never tried to do anything but respond to his rough affection with lazy gentleness, but he had a sneaking suspicion that he was missing Dieck's point. Idly, he flexed his thighs around Dieck, wrenching a choked up guttural sound from Dieck's mouth. Rutger grinned at the unexpected victory, pressing down again, and pinning Dieck to the pallet with his hands.
“Hey, no fair,” Dieck muttered, both of his hands sliding over Rutger's knees, and pressing warmly as they searched upward. “I'm not even in my armor, but you're fully covered.”
“What you call battle armor is useless,” Rutger assured him, rolling his hips to push against those hands. “My clothing is keeping me warm.”
“Oh?” The amused taunt licked over him. “And what would you like to do after we get you out of those clothes then, hmm? How does a lone mercenary stay warm in autumn, anyway?”
Rutger lowered himself to rest his forearms against Dieck's shoulders and take the taunting mouth. The taste of possibilities hung in the air around them. It lingered on Dieck's tongue and danced across Rutger's lips even when he broke away. One of Dieck's hands had found the slit in Rutger's surcoat and was now vainly trying to find bare skin or the waistband of his trousers, while the other tangled in the too long belt, reminding Rutger of several passing fancies.
“Mmm. Do you mind being held down? I mean with rope or something. I know you said not in public, but would it be okay now?”
Rutger watched the earnest desire retreat in favor of thoughtfulness, but within a breath, Dieck had smirked. “Yeah. I used to like it a lot, actually.”
“Used to?”
“Haven't done it for a while,” Dieck shrugged. “Though if you tickle me, or take my money, I know where you sleep.”
“I'm leaving before dawn tomorrow, remember?” Rutger ran his fingers along the vibrant skin of Dieck's throat, waiting for the humming of his pulse.
In a few moments he would have all that scarred beauty of Dieck's back straining under his hands, and he could take the time to admire it, and sink his teeth in. Maybe Dieck would cry out again, the approval in his voice urging on another rush of victory.
Eagerly, maybe even a little too quickly, Rutger sat back up, undoing the buckle on his belt, and struggling to unwind it from his waist.
Dieck caught his wrist. “Just checking, but that's what you're planning to use, right?”
Rutger glanced at the long strip of leather. It was a good thing that Clarine was so generous in her own way, because he would never be able to return the belt. Still, it was leather. Rutger had never been tied up himself, but he had sudden images of rope burn
on captured bandits haunting him. “Is that okay? Would it hurt you?”
“Don't tie it tightly,” Dieck advised, pushing himself up, and looking almost reluctant to leave the shadows of the lower bunk. “And if you're not doing it right, not to insult you or anything, but we'll be finding other ways to have fun. Okay, where do you want me?”
“Hands tied to the bed post,” Rutger was already taking off his surcoat, and wondered if his voice was clear enough through the heavy cloth, but once he was disentangled, Dieck had stretched out on his stomach, reaching for the post between the bunks.
Kneeling, Rutger surveyed the willing mercenary spread out beneath him. The scars, the movement of breathing, the whole physicality that Dieck carried with him left Rutger mesmerized. Dieck was there, filling space. Even the softest exhale from Rutger's own lungs seemed to be tentatively reaching, uncertain that there was a person before him, but excited by the prospect.
A chuckle broke his reverie. Dieck had turned his head toward Rutger, his eyes lit with a smile. “I like that face you've got on you at the moment. Much less murder and more surprise. It suits you.”
Better not to dignify that with a response. Rutger reached over, and began to loop the too long belt around Dieck's wrists, trying to leave some slack, but keep it tight enough that Dieck couldn't slip lose by accident. Rocking back on his heels to admire his work, Rutger passed a proud hand over Dieck's shoulder blade. “How is it?”
Tugging experimentally at the belt, Dieck pushed himself onto his knees and elbows, breathing hard, but turning his head to meet Rutger's eyes. “Good.”
Rutger's fingers tightened excitedly, trying to feel more of the strain beneath the skin. Dieck, usually so languid, felt tensed for a fight. All that power was now contained, and spilling through Dieck's skin to kiss at Rutger's fingertips.
As Rutger moved behind to climb onto the bed as well, the tight muscle under his palm began to shake. For an eye blink, Rutger froze, transported back to the battlements at Araphen, when Dieck's back went taut beneath him. Rutger dove forward, reaching for the knot around the bed post even as Dieck gasped out his name in a voice more usually reserved for mid-battle panic.
In a confused tangle of moments, Rutger found himself pushing a still shaking Dieck into a sitting position, and flinging the belt across the room. Gingerly, Rutger inspected Dieck's wrists. Red lines from where the leather had dug in against his pulling zagged across the blue of his veins, but the skin was not actually broken.
Rutger breathed out. “I should have had a knife handy. Dieck, are you-do you need me to get you anything?”
Dieck stared at his hands as Rutger let go of his wrists. Slowly he clenched and unclenched them. Looking up, he nodded over Rutger's shoulder to the head of the bed. “That pillow would be nice.”
Rutger handed the straw filled sack over, and paused, unsure if he should come closer or give Dieck his space. Lost, he watched Dieck curl around the pillow. In Rutger's place, the mercenary captain would have been all over the lone swordsman. Did that mean Dieck would like the same treatment?
Rutger edged nearer, trying to assess how best to wrap around his lover. Well, even if he was uncertain of physical contact, he had started this. The necessary words were almost easy to say, in comparison to last time he had needed to say it, but could not in front of the person he had wronged. “I'm sorry, Dieck.”
Dieck glanced over, a crooked, wary smile back on his face. “Thanks.”
They breathed out together. Rutger inched closer, aware of Dieck's eyes on him. “Do you want-should I hold you? Or would that be worse?”
“Mm,” the pillow became the focus of Dieck's attention. “Normally, actually, it's fun holding you. You're solid, and sometimes when you're quiet, I can hear you breathe or your heartbeat. All those human things,” he trailed off for a moment, before inching along the bed to bump against Rutger's hip. “Budge up. Let's see if you're any good at holding me.”
Rutger's back found a barely comfortable perch between the wall and the far bed post, but he decided he did not mind as Dieck crawled onto his lap, and sat back against his chest. Dieck sighed happily as Rutger tentatively wove his arms between the pillow and Dieck's torso.
Rutger waited, letting the rhythm of his breathing slide into Dieck's, as though it was a sword exercise. Once he found the pace, and held it, he felt ready to ask: “What went wrong?”
“When I couldn't see you, you could have been anyone,” Dieck began, before shaking his head. “Well, that and I was already having problems being tied up.”
Oh. Rutger felt his stomach drop. He should have known. Whatever Dieck had said, there had been signs of nervousness, and Rutger should have noticed those much earlier. He shouldn't even have proposed it. “I could have listened better. Can you tell me why? Does this have anything to do with that overseer person you told me about before?”
Dieck's hand left the pillow to run cautiously over Rutger's wrist, pinching at the fabric of his shirt. “What? Fuck no. Like I said, I used to really like being tied up. She was really good at pulling that thrill to the surface, too,” Dieck trailed off, nudging Rutger's cheek with his forehead. “This kind of talk isn't going to set you off, is it?”
“What?” Rutger blinked. Bern hadn't even been mentioned. “I generally don't bother having nightmares for living people.”
Dieck snorted. “I meant your 'grr, no one can have what is mine, but I shall pretend I don't care and withdraw,' act.”
“I do not do that.”
Dieck elbowed the curve of his hip. Rutger sighed. “I don't have time for jealousy when I'm trying to learn what I should never do again. Is that good enough?”
“You lie an awful lot for a Sacaen,” Dieck's mutter held more than a hint of laughter. “But okay, I'll trust you to know yourself. It's not like this has anything to do with well spent moments of self discovery, anyway,” Dieck's chest rose and fell with a particularly deep, steadying breath. “You know those burn circles on my right side you always glare at?”
Rutger could see one of them now, peeking over the curve of Dieck's shoulder, slightly paler in the shadows than the rest of Dieck's skin. “I always glare at them?”
“Well, I catch you at it a lot,” Dieck amended. “I got them when I was trying to convince a very angry lord that there were no other reinforcements for my recently slaughtered troops, and even if I couldn't pay the ransom for my life, the mercenary guild I had joined would be able to cover the cost of getting me back alive, with all extremities attached. Most of the convincing involved being tied to tables while hot fire irons were applied unexpectedly to test my sincerity.”
Rutger tried to control the angry twitch of his fingers with minor success. Dieck's hand on one sleeve helped to ground him. So many little things made sense now-the wariness when it came to anyone styled a lord, Dieck's indifference to his own past, probably even his lack of attachment to a place-and Rutger was incapable of doing anything about these hurts. “I don't suppose it would help if I swore vengeance against this lord.”
Dieck bumped his forehead into Rutger's cheek once more, though the familiar fondness was creeping back into his voice. “Nah. Border lords who make enemies like he did generally aren't long for this world. He wasn't to blame, anyway. My employer at the time didn't see the need to keep mercenaries alive if he could save on money and save his own skin.”
The dark cynicism lifted suddenly, as though Dieck felt he was getting too wrapped up in the demons of earlier years. Possibly he felt Rutger had too much in common with that darkness. “And hey, I got out with life and limb attached. I just went back there for a bit, when I realized I couldn't slip that belt off and throw you across the room if hot irons were suddenly in the picture. Don't take this the wrong way: I love what you do to me, and I know you'd never do anything I didn't want, but I also like knowing I can stop you, if I need to.”
“And everything I suggested made that impossible. What a terrible way to spend our time off,” Rutger supplied.
The pillow dropped over Rutger's thigh as Dieck turned fully onto his side, his arms sneaking out to wrap around Rutger's torso. Dieck tilted his head to look at Rutger. “I don't know. I kind of like this bit. And I wanted to like the other part. It figures this would happen just when you were looking so cute, too.”
The bitter sigh that accompanied this remark left Rutger confused. “I can't really see why you would want to bother with it. Whatever it might look like, I try to avoid situations that remind me of what happened in Bulgar. If you agreed to being tied up because I wanted it, don't ever do that again.”
The sigh was joined by an exasperated snort. “Maybe we were having different conversations, but I told you: I liked being tied up and restrained like that. I wanted to try it out again for me. Having you along for the ride was just the fun of having someone
I trust bring me through it.
“I've always been into the intensity of feelings bottled up and unleashed, right? It's like that moment in the arena after you've fought and you realize you've won just as the crowd breaks into applause. I like those perfect moments, and being tied down used to bring a lot of that together for me all at once, so, well, I'd like to be able to do it again. One of the things that pisses me off is that it's been almost twelve years and I still can't shake being afraid of something that felt good.”
Twelve years was hardly a turning of a calendar. “You seem to be doing very well-but I should know that can always be an illusion,” Rutger began. He tried running his free hand through Dieck's hair for a moment, but pulled back into the hug, guessing that being petted like a trail dog was not really all that comforting. “Does it still haunt you?”
“Every day, you mean? Not much, anymore. That's part of what bugs me about it. I've got a life I can live, and I don't see why those weeks, out of all the things I've seen, get to lurk like shadows. At least the priests were right when they said time and continuing onward was going to help me.”
“A priest was helpful with a spiritual matter, wonders will never cease,” Rutger chuckled dryly. “You needn't sound so surprised.”
“I'm not much of one for spirit type thinking,” Dieck replied. “I don't know much about Sacae, but Etruria's church isn't known for its love of either peasants or mercenaries.”
Words from the bathhouse echoed back to Rutger. He suddenly felt guilty. “I thought the prayers of Elimine were for everyone. Saul might get a little side tracked on the beauty of his saint and her congregation, but he's fairly clear on that point.”
“Yeah, well, it's always seemed like those prayers were for the merchants who could afford it. But, a good mercenary guild brings in money, and you can find the Dorothys of the priesthood if you look hard enough. What is it like in Sacae? You just walk up to a temple or something, and say: 'hey, I need to talk to someone, and find out what I can do to fix everything?'”
“Maybe,” Rutger's fingers strayed through Dieck's hair. “Every tribesman knows how to listen to the voices of the world, but when that isn't enough, there are the shamans, and every permanent settlement has a hermitage or monastery near by. But the kind of guidance you're talking about is central to the way of living with the world. That's not a good way to explain it, I suppose. Um, the world is filled with spirits-beings beyond humanity-that the worthy can commune with. A big part of healing is becoming part of that, which means going beyond your humanity yourself. A teacher can guide you, and monks will do all they can to help, but it's a life long path. If you walk up to the temple, you had better be prepared to commit yourself to seeking wholeness.”
“Well, that's something,” Dieck murmured. He press his cheek against Rutger's chest, resting so quietly that Rutger wondered if he had dozed off. However, at length Dieck raised his head again. “I think I like it when you're allowed to go on with your regular life, though.”
“Oh, you can do that,” Rutger assured him, “but you wanted to fix everything. That needs time and dedication.”
“Ah. The short version is pretty similar, then. A few prayers for Father Sky, and then down to the brass tacks of talking about things you can't stand and figuring out how to continue living?” Dieck asked.
“Mother Earth usually handles those things,” Rutger couldn't help needling, before hastily adding: “but I assume as much.”
The shadowed quiet settled over them. Rutger realized his breathing had fallen out of sync with Dieck's, but with the mercenary pressed against his chest once more, Rutger suspected Dieck was just listening, and he did not need to treat this like a delicate partnered sword dance. Finally, Dieck shifted against Rutger once more, rolling onto his stomach, and propping himself up on his elbows. The expression he fixed Rutger with was calculating. “Did you mean that you've never talked to any monk or shaman or whatever about your decision to destroy Bern single-handedly?”
“There aren't many teachers left alive between Bulgar and the Talivar mountains,” Rutger pointed out, before adding: “And I don't have a lifetime to dedicate to myself, even if I could find someone willing to guide an outsider to peace. The dead have to be put to rest first.”
“I agree,” Dieck said, in a voice that Rutger knew meant he did not have the faintest inkling what he was agreeing to. Still, Dieck also meant every word, and at this point, Rutger would have to be a whole lot cleverer than he was to dissuade the stubborn man. “But I don't think that should stop you from finding someone who can help set you on your path more easily.”
“And where exactly do I find someone to confide in on these cold lonely rocks? Lady Sue is the closest person to being properly in step with the world around her, and she has her own grief.”
“Sue?” Dieck repeated, obviously startled. “Isn't she a bit-vague? But I was actually thinking of people a little more familiar with helping others through tough times.”
Rutger stared ahead, knowing what Dieck was going to say. “No.”
“I know you aren't going to like the idea, but they are trained for it. Both Sister Ellen and Brother Saul. Hellfires, Dorothy probably knows a few things.”
“Exactly how do I tell Sister Ellen that the memory of her countrymen slaughtering everyone I know has been the fuel for countless fantasies where I separate her beloved liege lady's head from her body?” Rutger asked darkly. “Fun as it is to bait good Brother Saul, do you honestly think he can keep from proselytizing long enough to be helpful?”
“I don't know, but you might try it,” Dieck said, his expression unyielding. “If nothing else, you might have a few more nights of uninterrupted sleep. I know you were fine the night we took this fortress. Telling me what happened didn't help with that?”
That much was true. It had been such a relief just to talk to Dieck. Speaking with men and women who were called to serve and teach mankind could hardly be worse. But Elimineans-did he have to turn to the ways of Bern to drive away the memories eating at him? The idea was repulsive. “I'll think about it.”
Dieck eyeballed him. Rutger held up his hands. “I'll think about it. If I get stuck on the same part of the ship while we travel south, I might even take that as a sign.”
That seemed to mollify Dieck. He subsided, sitting up and picking up the forgotten pillow. “Even if you can't trust them, you can trust me, you know. I trust you.”
Rutger couldn't help a short burst of laughter. “You trust a man, who can't even handle seeing a wyvern without losing his temper and taking it out on the nearest unsuspecting knights.”
“Hey, you keep your problems confined to the battlefield and your sleep, at least. I brought mine into bed with us,” Dieck pointed out. “You figured out what was going on, and stopped it before it went too far. I call that trust well placed.”
He reached out, pulling Rutger from the wall, and onto his lap once more. His arms wrapped around Rutger as though they had grown around Rutger like a tree. The kiss held lingering hints of salt, probably from Rutger's lips. Pins and needles shot through one of Rutger's legs as he shifted to better straddle Dieck. “You know, one of my legs is asleep.”
“Sorry.”
“Thank you,” Rutger kissed Dieck again. “And you'll tell me if we're even thinking of going too far for you.”
“Of course,” Dieck threaded his fingers through Rutger's hair.
“I mean it.”
“I do, too. I'll yell 'stop' really loudly. And throw you across the room. Now, can we please take advantage of the fact no one has come back here, yet?”
Biting Dieck's bottom lip, Rutger decided that would have to do. If this was what Dieck wanted, he was hardly going to object.
Previous Part (Leave Preparations) Next Part (Castle Idina)
Author: MorriganFearn
Rating: M
Characters: Rutger, Dieck, Clarine, Sue, Fir, Klein, Saul
Genre: Romance, Friendship, Hurt/Comfort (still not clear what that is as a genre, but it's prolly the closest to accurate I'll get)
Pairings: Rutger/Dieck
Summary: It's not exactly a secret that Rutger has some aggression to work through. It is a bit of a surprise that Dieck is interested in this. But as the first half year of the War Against Bern rolls on, the status quo they create begins to change.
Title: Not Exactly a Secret - Part 15
Author: MorriganFearn
Rating: T
Characters: Rutger, Dieck, Clarine, Klein, Tate, Wendy, Astol, Barth
Genre: Friendship, Romance, Introspection
Pairings: Rutger/Dieck
Summary: It's not that Dieck has something to hide, he just wanted to keep his past close to his chest.
Warning: So this part contains someone, who is not versed in the ways of bondage, playing with bondage, and triggering his partner because they didn't do a whole lot of discussion beforehand, or set up structures to make it work for both of them. Also, chances are that if the fun and games had lasted longer than three minutes it would have been pretty physically uncomfortable because let's be honest, makeshift bondage gear figured out on the spur of the moment is generally not what you should be going with for everyone's happiness. But mostly this chapter is about coming out of a bad situation, and repairing damage. Even so, this is one of the chapters where trauma is brought up, and if any of it comes off as too rushed, or badly written, or in terrible taste, let's discuss it and make that section better.
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Not Exactly a Secret: Part 15
“Yes, Captain?” Wendy looked around at the three, her eyebrows raised.
“We've been in talks with the townspeople about what to do about the fort, and the provost has decided that they're going to hire my remaining squad members at winter rates to staff the fort, along with General Klein's bowmen to give the mercenaries legitimacy,” Tate began, running her fingers through her hair. “Look, my wing are all talented and experienced, but we've never had to run a full fort before, much less trying to fool an army that might be expecting to talk to Zinc sometime before spring. I had hoped we'd have a few more days, but we don't. May I borrow you and the rest of the veteran knights to share your knowledge of this kind of work with my squad?”
“You may have me, certainly, Captain Tate,” Wendy rose to attention in a clattering of plate. “I can't speak for anyone else though. But where would you like this lesson?”
“Well, my squad is guarding the inland foragers right now. If it wouldn't be too much trouble, we could go to them and start right away.”
At the mention of going to find the foraging party, Sir Barth looked less than enthusiastic. On a less hale man, Rutger would have said his expression was exhausted. “I suddenly understand a wise proverb one of the old Ostia sergeants used to use when I was training: Between the terrain and the early mornings, I am going to lose any hair I have left. Lead on, Captain Tate. I assume you'll be able to find everyone from the air once you get your pegasus. I will go tell Sir Bors that he is needed to supervise the young mages.”
“That's not really what I'm here to do, sir,” Wendy protested. “Er, my role was to be avoid-the-target practice.”
Barth just gave her a look. “I know. However, even if this is like morning exercise to them, someone should be watching while they play with fire.”
Wendy colored, but strode after Tate, as the knight made a bee-line for the stables. Not so subtly, Dieck slid into the spot she vacated. “Aren't you supposed to be out salting mackerel or something?”
Rutger crossed his arms against the cool air. “If you drag the net in and dump it, there are others to make up for the fact that you were out in the ocean before sun up. I am free to practice my sword work, or simply marvel at the wonders of mages for the rest of the day. Do you want to join me?”
“Watching Lugh and Lilina argue over a book? There are worse ways to spend time, I suppose.”
“I meant if you would like to join me in a practice bout,” Rutger repeated, but he knew the answer already was 'no' and he was basically glad for it. Repaired blisters aside, the morning's work had left him feeling lazy. “How did your tactical meeting go?”
“Fairly well, once Elphin dropped in to say that the marching orders were underway. That got the townspeople to stop haggling over the necessity of mercenaries at last. He's got a good way of breaking news to people.”
And that way seemed to have everyone dancing to his tune. Rutger decided Elphin was not a subject he really wanted to raise at the moment, though. It was not as though the bard was the only one keeping secrets, and he seemed genuinely interested in getting rid of the Etrurian army. He didn't even seem to like Klein or the rest of the archer squad that much, even though Elphin was friendly to everyone else, and Klein was everything Clarine claimed him to be, even if not as liable to glow, and make grass grow where he walked.
Maybe Elphin was like Dieck, and uneasy around Etrurian nobles. And maybe Rutger should stop reminding himself exactly how much Dieck held in common with a mature intelligent man who looked as though he had stepped out of an Etrurian ballad in praise of their idea of beauty.
“So,” Rutger changed the subject. “Are you ready to leave in the pre-dawn with the stars shining over us?”
“Mmm,” Dieck glanced at the gray sky, and rubbed his hands together, blowing on cold fingers. “Tell you what: ask that question when I'm tossing you out of your austere little corner tomorrow morning.”
Rutger smiled. “Sleeping under Thany's bunk has given you fresh ideas. I thought you didn't like getting attacked from dark corners.”
“You don't like being woken up that energetically?” Dieck's voice oozed innocence. “If only you'd chosen a part of the barracks a little closer to the rest of the army, no one would have to worry about you sleeping through the tide.”
Rutger did not miss the glancing smirk, and he elbowed Dieck in the side. This coming from a man who had been complaining the other night that even with a weapons'
rack and several storage chests between Rutger's bed and the rest of the barracks, they were far too close to the rest of the sleeping army-particularly Chad, whose bunk was almost as removed as Rutger's, though he had at least stored his gear on the top bunk to keep from having to share.
Throwing his head back, Dieck surveyed the gray sky. “You know, it looks like rain. We probably won't have much time outside-”
“Klein!” Clarine yelled, waving eagerly at her brother who was coming from the front gate with a group of his archers. With the bows in evidence, target practice must have been on the schedule, but little sisters with loud voices tended to take precedence. “See how well I'm doing! We've almost got the fire spell figured out!”
Dieck's hand stole over Rutger's, his thumb circling a knuckle, until Rutger turned his attention away from the courtyard. Dieck's lazy smile had an anticipatory edge to it, as he raised his eyebrows invitingly. “Hey, with everyone out and about, the barracks should be empty now, and if the rain comes, we'll all be stuffed inside like apples in a basket. This might be the only chance to be alone for who knows how long.”
Rutger felt the eagerness to get away in the soft pull on his hand, and the set of Dieck's shoulders. Very like his stance just before he jumped out of sword range when they were fighting, actually. Rutger would go along with it, but, as Clarine drew Klein over to her training ground, Rutger saw the way Dieck's eyes were tracking the former Etrurian General.
Well, Rutger had no problem humoring a desire to get away from too many people. Even if the desire was a little too focused, and odd for a personable man like Dieck. Casually slinging his arm around Dieck's waist, Rutger started walking toward the castle. “All right. Maybe when we're alone, you can tell me why you spend so much energy avoiding Clarine's brother.”
As he had expected, the suggestion caused all of the muscles under his hand to tighten, but Dieck continued to walk, a dry chuckle escaping as soon as they made it past the main doors.
“So you noticed, huh?”
Rutger rolled his eyes. “You're not a subtle man. Is this something I should know?”
“No. Not really,” the fond smile in Rutger's direction was full of the assurance that Dieck would try to sidestep any direct questions. “Klein's a reminder of things long past, that's all.”
“And if I asked him about you?”
Servants had heard their footsteps, obviously, as a boy hastened through the corridor, checking on torches, and leaving a trail of sputtering lights in his wake. Dieck glanced after him as the boy ran past, but they continued toward the barracks without a break in stride. “I'd rather you didn't.”
Rutger felt familiar fingers on his hip, and knew that even if Dieck was not fond of the questions, he wasn't objecting to the fact that Rutger was asking them. The real question was whether it was worth it to push. On the one hand what affected Dieck might end up affecting him. On the other, he was tired, and there were always other time to ask questions.
Rutger decided not to, though he couldn't help adding: “I'm not going to aid every scheme of yours to keep away from him. For one thing, it's too complicated.”
“Oh? Maybe that's good for you, though. Getting forced into people's lives, being left to deal with complication,” Dieck drew him in, pressing Rutger against the frame of the nearest bunk bed as he kissed the skin between his eyebrows.
Rutger took the attempt at subtlety for what it was, running a warning fingertip along Dieck's jaw, digging in the nail at the last second. “Don't make me care for people, and if you don't want me to complain,” Rutger paused significantly, before he reached up, wanting very much to see Dieck lick blood from his lips.
A loud cough interrupted what should have been a biting remark. Both mercenaries turned their heads as a bed creaked, and Astol climbed down from the top. The older man smiled at them crookedly as he reached the floor. “So, are you two just inconsiderate, or not much for privacy?”
Rutger slowly moved his hands down Dieck's shoulders, staring fixedly at Astol, waiting for the spy to blink. Apparently, hard stares had little effect on the man. Maybe thieves were inured against people daring them to make a move.
Rutger was almost ready to give way when Dieck's grip on his side tightened. “Just-didn't see you. We didn't think anyone would be here. Do you want us gone?”
“No, no, I'm clearing out. Lady Lilina probably is going to want the tome she was looking for this morning some time before the solstice. You two have fun. Warrior types rarely get much free time, after all, do they?”
They watched him glide out the door in silence. Rutger wondered at that parting shot, but he doubted that Astol's undoubtedly disreputable thoughts were any real concern of his. Winter was only going to be worse. Everyone stuck inside wherever they ended up making camp, enforced closeness with no privacy.
Dieck just sighed. “Well, that ruined the mood. Not that it was a great mood to begin with. Can we start over with more kissing?”
“I'm willing to postpone any conversation about Etrurian nobles,” Rutger agreed, running his fingers over old scars, before shoving Dieck towards the nearest weapons chest. He stalked toward his bed, unclipping his scabbard from his belt. When his weapon was properly stored in the cavernous space under the bed, Rutger turned, arms crossed as he waited for Dieck to regain his balance.
“You're never going to learn how to ask nicely, like 'hey, get off of me, my one track mind has discovered my bed' are you?” the big mercenary rubbed his shoulder as he approached Rutger.
Rutger frowned. “Do you want me to?”
Closing what little gap there was between them, Dieck encircled Rutger's waist, turning and pulling until he was sprawled on the bottom bunk, with Rutger on his lap. In the shadowy corner, Dieck reached up to tuck Rutger's hair behind an ear. “No. Luckily for you I'm not really breakable, and it's a bit of a rush. Also your enthusiasm's cute. I like not worrying about you.”
Rutger walked his fingers down Dieck's arm, trying to match each ripple and dip of skin with a scar he knew. “I thought you were worried about me and my sleeping habits.”
“That's just the big stuff. It's nice being with someone who doesn't make me worry about holding back. You're not any more breakable than I am,” Dieck's teeth flashed in a grin.
Rutger wanted to point out that Dieck had never tried to do anything but respond to his rough affection with lazy gentleness, but he had a sneaking suspicion that he was missing Dieck's point. Idly, he flexed his thighs around Dieck, wrenching a choked up guttural sound from Dieck's mouth. Rutger grinned at the unexpected victory, pressing down again, and pinning Dieck to the pallet with his hands.
“Hey, no fair,” Dieck muttered, both of his hands sliding over Rutger's knees, and pressing warmly as they searched upward. “I'm not even in my armor, but you're fully covered.”
“What you call battle armor is useless,” Rutger assured him, rolling his hips to push against those hands. “My clothing is keeping me warm.”
“Oh?” The amused taunt licked over him. “And what would you like to do after we get you out of those clothes then, hmm? How does a lone mercenary stay warm in autumn, anyway?”
Rutger lowered himself to rest his forearms against Dieck's shoulders and take the taunting mouth. The taste of possibilities hung in the air around them. It lingered on Dieck's tongue and danced across Rutger's lips even when he broke away. One of Dieck's hands had found the slit in Rutger's surcoat and was now vainly trying to find bare skin or the waistband of his trousers, while the other tangled in the too long belt, reminding Rutger of several passing fancies.
“Mmm. Do you mind being held down? I mean with rope or something. I know you said not in public, but would it be okay now?”
Rutger watched the earnest desire retreat in favor of thoughtfulness, but within a breath, Dieck had smirked. “Yeah. I used to like it a lot, actually.”
“Used to?”
“Haven't done it for a while,” Dieck shrugged. “Though if you tickle me, or take my money, I know where you sleep.”
“I'm leaving before dawn tomorrow, remember?” Rutger ran his fingers along the vibrant skin of Dieck's throat, waiting for the humming of his pulse.
In a few moments he would have all that scarred beauty of Dieck's back straining under his hands, and he could take the time to admire it, and sink his teeth in. Maybe Dieck would cry out again, the approval in his voice urging on another rush of victory.
Eagerly, maybe even a little too quickly, Rutger sat back up, undoing the buckle on his belt, and struggling to unwind it from his waist.
Dieck caught his wrist. “Just checking, but that's what you're planning to use, right?”
Rutger glanced at the long strip of leather. It was a good thing that Clarine was so generous in her own way, because he would never be able to return the belt. Still, it was leather. Rutger had never been tied up himself, but he had sudden images of rope burn
on captured bandits haunting him. “Is that okay? Would it hurt you?”
“Don't tie it tightly,” Dieck advised, pushing himself up, and looking almost reluctant to leave the shadows of the lower bunk. “And if you're not doing it right, not to insult you or anything, but we'll be finding other ways to have fun. Okay, where do you want me?”
“Hands tied to the bed post,” Rutger was already taking off his surcoat, and wondered if his voice was clear enough through the heavy cloth, but once he was disentangled, Dieck had stretched out on his stomach, reaching for the post between the bunks.
Kneeling, Rutger surveyed the willing mercenary spread out beneath him. The scars, the movement of breathing, the whole physicality that Dieck carried with him left Rutger mesmerized. Dieck was there, filling space. Even the softest exhale from Rutger's own lungs seemed to be tentatively reaching, uncertain that there was a person before him, but excited by the prospect.
A chuckle broke his reverie. Dieck had turned his head toward Rutger, his eyes lit with a smile. “I like that face you've got on you at the moment. Much less murder and more surprise. It suits you.”
Better not to dignify that with a response. Rutger reached over, and began to loop the too long belt around Dieck's wrists, trying to leave some slack, but keep it tight enough that Dieck couldn't slip lose by accident. Rocking back on his heels to admire his work, Rutger passed a proud hand over Dieck's shoulder blade. “How is it?”
Tugging experimentally at the belt, Dieck pushed himself onto his knees and elbows, breathing hard, but turning his head to meet Rutger's eyes. “Good.”
Rutger's fingers tightened excitedly, trying to feel more of the strain beneath the skin. Dieck, usually so languid, felt tensed for a fight. All that power was now contained, and spilling through Dieck's skin to kiss at Rutger's fingertips.
As Rutger moved behind to climb onto the bed as well, the tight muscle under his palm began to shake. For an eye blink, Rutger froze, transported back to the battlements at Araphen, when Dieck's back went taut beneath him. Rutger dove forward, reaching for the knot around the bed post even as Dieck gasped out his name in a voice more usually reserved for mid-battle panic.
In a confused tangle of moments, Rutger found himself pushing a still shaking Dieck into a sitting position, and flinging the belt across the room. Gingerly, Rutger inspected Dieck's wrists. Red lines from where the leather had dug in against his pulling zagged across the blue of his veins, but the skin was not actually broken.
Rutger breathed out. “I should have had a knife handy. Dieck, are you-do you need me to get you anything?”
Dieck stared at his hands as Rutger let go of his wrists. Slowly he clenched and unclenched them. Looking up, he nodded over Rutger's shoulder to the head of the bed. “That pillow would be nice.”
Rutger handed the straw filled sack over, and paused, unsure if he should come closer or give Dieck his space. Lost, he watched Dieck curl around the pillow. In Rutger's place, the mercenary captain would have been all over the lone swordsman. Did that mean Dieck would like the same treatment?
Rutger edged nearer, trying to assess how best to wrap around his lover. Well, even if he was uncertain of physical contact, he had started this. The necessary words were almost easy to say, in comparison to last time he had needed to say it, but could not in front of the person he had wronged. “I'm sorry, Dieck.”
Dieck glanced over, a crooked, wary smile back on his face. “Thanks.”
They breathed out together. Rutger inched closer, aware of Dieck's eyes on him. “Do you want-should I hold you? Or would that be worse?”
“Mm,” the pillow became the focus of Dieck's attention. “Normally, actually, it's fun holding you. You're solid, and sometimes when you're quiet, I can hear you breathe or your heartbeat. All those human things,” he trailed off for a moment, before inching along the bed to bump against Rutger's hip. “Budge up. Let's see if you're any good at holding me.”
Rutger's back found a barely comfortable perch between the wall and the far bed post, but he decided he did not mind as Dieck crawled onto his lap, and sat back against his chest. Dieck sighed happily as Rutger tentatively wove his arms between the pillow and Dieck's torso.
Rutger waited, letting the rhythm of his breathing slide into Dieck's, as though it was a sword exercise. Once he found the pace, and held it, he felt ready to ask: “What went wrong?”
“When I couldn't see you, you could have been anyone,” Dieck began, before shaking his head. “Well, that and I was already having problems being tied up.”
Oh. Rutger felt his stomach drop. He should have known. Whatever Dieck had said, there had been signs of nervousness, and Rutger should have noticed those much earlier. He shouldn't even have proposed it. “I could have listened better. Can you tell me why? Does this have anything to do with that overseer person you told me about before?”
Dieck's hand left the pillow to run cautiously over Rutger's wrist, pinching at the fabric of his shirt. “What? Fuck no. Like I said, I used to really like being tied up. She was really good at pulling that thrill to the surface, too,” Dieck trailed off, nudging Rutger's cheek with his forehead. “This kind of talk isn't going to set you off, is it?”
“What?” Rutger blinked. Bern hadn't even been mentioned. “I generally don't bother having nightmares for living people.”
Dieck snorted. “I meant your 'grr, no one can have what is mine, but I shall pretend I don't care and withdraw,' act.”
“I do not do that.”
Dieck elbowed the curve of his hip. Rutger sighed. “I don't have time for jealousy when I'm trying to learn what I should never do again. Is that good enough?”
“You lie an awful lot for a Sacaen,” Dieck's mutter held more than a hint of laughter. “But okay, I'll trust you to know yourself. It's not like this has anything to do with well spent moments of self discovery, anyway,” Dieck's chest rose and fell with a particularly deep, steadying breath. “You know those burn circles on my right side you always glare at?”
Rutger could see one of them now, peeking over the curve of Dieck's shoulder, slightly paler in the shadows than the rest of Dieck's skin. “I always glare at them?”
“Well, I catch you at it a lot,” Dieck amended. “I got them when I was trying to convince a very angry lord that there were no other reinforcements for my recently slaughtered troops, and even if I couldn't pay the ransom for my life, the mercenary guild I had joined would be able to cover the cost of getting me back alive, with all extremities attached. Most of the convincing involved being tied to tables while hot fire irons were applied unexpectedly to test my sincerity.”
Rutger tried to control the angry twitch of his fingers with minor success. Dieck's hand on one sleeve helped to ground him. So many little things made sense now-the wariness when it came to anyone styled a lord, Dieck's indifference to his own past, probably even his lack of attachment to a place-and Rutger was incapable of doing anything about these hurts. “I don't suppose it would help if I swore vengeance against this lord.”
Dieck bumped his forehead into Rutger's cheek once more, though the familiar fondness was creeping back into his voice. “Nah. Border lords who make enemies like he did generally aren't long for this world. He wasn't to blame, anyway. My employer at the time didn't see the need to keep mercenaries alive if he could save on money and save his own skin.”
The dark cynicism lifted suddenly, as though Dieck felt he was getting too wrapped up in the demons of earlier years. Possibly he felt Rutger had too much in common with that darkness. “And hey, I got out with life and limb attached. I just went back there for a bit, when I realized I couldn't slip that belt off and throw you across the room if hot irons were suddenly in the picture. Don't take this the wrong way: I love what you do to me, and I know you'd never do anything I didn't want, but I also like knowing I can stop you, if I need to.”
“And everything I suggested made that impossible. What a terrible way to spend our time off,” Rutger supplied.
The pillow dropped over Rutger's thigh as Dieck turned fully onto his side, his arms sneaking out to wrap around Rutger's torso. Dieck tilted his head to look at Rutger. “I don't know. I kind of like this bit. And I wanted to like the other part. It figures this would happen just when you were looking so cute, too.”
The bitter sigh that accompanied this remark left Rutger confused. “I can't really see why you would want to bother with it. Whatever it might look like, I try to avoid situations that remind me of what happened in Bulgar. If you agreed to being tied up because I wanted it, don't ever do that again.”
The sigh was joined by an exasperated snort. “Maybe we were having different conversations, but I told you: I liked being tied up and restrained like that. I wanted to try it out again for me. Having you along for the ride was just the fun of having someone
I trust bring me through it.
“I've always been into the intensity of feelings bottled up and unleashed, right? It's like that moment in the arena after you've fought and you realize you've won just as the crowd breaks into applause. I like those perfect moments, and being tied down used to bring a lot of that together for me all at once, so, well, I'd like to be able to do it again. One of the things that pisses me off is that it's been almost twelve years and I still can't shake being afraid of something that felt good.”
Twelve years was hardly a turning of a calendar. “You seem to be doing very well-but I should know that can always be an illusion,” Rutger began. He tried running his free hand through Dieck's hair for a moment, but pulled back into the hug, guessing that being petted like a trail dog was not really all that comforting. “Does it still haunt you?”
“Every day, you mean? Not much, anymore. That's part of what bugs me about it. I've got a life I can live, and I don't see why those weeks, out of all the things I've seen, get to lurk like shadows. At least the priests were right when they said time and continuing onward was going to help me.”
“A priest was helpful with a spiritual matter, wonders will never cease,” Rutger chuckled dryly. “You needn't sound so surprised.”
“I'm not much of one for spirit type thinking,” Dieck replied. “I don't know much about Sacae, but Etruria's church isn't known for its love of either peasants or mercenaries.”
Words from the bathhouse echoed back to Rutger. He suddenly felt guilty. “I thought the prayers of Elimine were for everyone. Saul might get a little side tracked on the beauty of his saint and her congregation, but he's fairly clear on that point.”
“Yeah, well, it's always seemed like those prayers were for the merchants who could afford it. But, a good mercenary guild brings in money, and you can find the Dorothys of the priesthood if you look hard enough. What is it like in Sacae? You just walk up to a temple or something, and say: 'hey, I need to talk to someone, and find out what I can do to fix everything?'”
“Maybe,” Rutger's fingers strayed through Dieck's hair. “Every tribesman knows how to listen to the voices of the world, but when that isn't enough, there are the shamans, and every permanent settlement has a hermitage or monastery near by. But the kind of guidance you're talking about is central to the way of living with the world. That's not a good way to explain it, I suppose. Um, the world is filled with spirits-beings beyond humanity-that the worthy can commune with. A big part of healing is becoming part of that, which means going beyond your humanity yourself. A teacher can guide you, and monks will do all they can to help, but it's a life long path. If you walk up to the temple, you had better be prepared to commit yourself to seeking wholeness.”
“Well, that's something,” Dieck murmured. He press his cheek against Rutger's chest, resting so quietly that Rutger wondered if he had dozed off. However, at length Dieck raised his head again. “I think I like it when you're allowed to go on with your regular life, though.”
“Oh, you can do that,” Rutger assured him, “but you wanted to fix everything. That needs time and dedication.”
“Ah. The short version is pretty similar, then. A few prayers for Father Sky, and then down to the brass tacks of talking about things you can't stand and figuring out how to continue living?” Dieck asked.
“Mother Earth usually handles those things,” Rutger couldn't help needling, before hastily adding: “but I assume as much.”
The shadowed quiet settled over them. Rutger realized his breathing had fallen out of sync with Dieck's, but with the mercenary pressed against his chest once more, Rutger suspected Dieck was just listening, and he did not need to treat this like a delicate partnered sword dance. Finally, Dieck shifted against Rutger once more, rolling onto his stomach, and propping himself up on his elbows. The expression he fixed Rutger with was calculating. “Did you mean that you've never talked to any monk or shaman or whatever about your decision to destroy Bern single-handedly?”
“There aren't many teachers left alive between Bulgar and the Talivar mountains,” Rutger pointed out, before adding: “And I don't have a lifetime to dedicate to myself, even if I could find someone willing to guide an outsider to peace. The dead have to be put to rest first.”
“I agree,” Dieck said, in a voice that Rutger knew meant he did not have the faintest inkling what he was agreeing to. Still, Dieck also meant every word, and at this point, Rutger would have to be a whole lot cleverer than he was to dissuade the stubborn man. “But I don't think that should stop you from finding someone who can help set you on your path more easily.”
“And where exactly do I find someone to confide in on these cold lonely rocks? Lady Sue is the closest person to being properly in step with the world around her, and she has her own grief.”
“Sue?” Dieck repeated, obviously startled. “Isn't she a bit-vague? But I was actually thinking of people a little more familiar with helping others through tough times.”
Rutger stared ahead, knowing what Dieck was going to say. “No.”
“I know you aren't going to like the idea, but they are trained for it. Both Sister Ellen and Brother Saul. Hellfires, Dorothy probably knows a few things.”
“Exactly how do I tell Sister Ellen that the memory of her countrymen slaughtering everyone I know has been the fuel for countless fantasies where I separate her beloved liege lady's head from her body?” Rutger asked darkly. “Fun as it is to bait good Brother Saul, do you honestly think he can keep from proselytizing long enough to be helpful?”
“I don't know, but you might try it,” Dieck said, his expression unyielding. “If nothing else, you might have a few more nights of uninterrupted sleep. I know you were fine the night we took this fortress. Telling me what happened didn't help with that?”
That much was true. It had been such a relief just to talk to Dieck. Speaking with men and women who were called to serve and teach mankind could hardly be worse. But Elimineans-did he have to turn to the ways of Bern to drive away the memories eating at him? The idea was repulsive. “I'll think about it.”
Dieck eyeballed him. Rutger held up his hands. “I'll think about it. If I get stuck on the same part of the ship while we travel south, I might even take that as a sign.”
That seemed to mollify Dieck. He subsided, sitting up and picking up the forgotten pillow. “Even if you can't trust them, you can trust me, you know. I trust you.”
Rutger couldn't help a short burst of laughter. “You trust a man, who can't even handle seeing a wyvern without losing his temper and taking it out on the nearest unsuspecting knights.”
“Hey, you keep your problems confined to the battlefield and your sleep, at least. I brought mine into bed with us,” Dieck pointed out. “You figured out what was going on, and stopped it before it went too far. I call that trust well placed.”
He reached out, pulling Rutger from the wall, and onto his lap once more. His arms wrapped around Rutger as though they had grown around Rutger like a tree. The kiss held lingering hints of salt, probably from Rutger's lips. Pins and needles shot through one of Rutger's legs as he shifted to better straddle Dieck. “You know, one of my legs is asleep.”
“Sorry.”
“Thank you,” Rutger kissed Dieck again. “And you'll tell me if we're even thinking of going too far for you.”
“Of course,” Dieck threaded his fingers through Rutger's hair.
“I mean it.”
“I do, too. I'll yell 'stop' really loudly. And throw you across the room. Now, can we please take advantage of the fact no one has come back here, yet?”
Biting Dieck's bottom lip, Rutger decided that would have to do. If this was what Dieck wanted, he was hardly going to object.
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