Marquis

  Year 2 - The Outskirts of Mezro

  I watch from an armchair tucked away in the corner of our salon just outside of Mezro. To my gratitude, the stone and timber hold the sun at bay.

  Alexios is already outside. Every morning without exception, he basks openly even on the rare days when the air is cold and rain pours. If the sky is without interruption, he sits in the grass with his legs folded, face lifted to the burning sun without a flare of fear, just as he does now. If clouds were to appear, he would still go out, accepting any sliver of light the gods will allow him. Much to his luck, the sun pours over him generously today, causing his luminous hair to appear almost like polished marble.

  If I did not know any better, I would believe he was made for this, as though the sun had chosen to follow him instead. In his hands rests Nykolai’s urn. Alexios holds it with the same care he always has. When the sun rises, he rises with it. When the sun shifts, he shifts as well, turning the urn so that the light evenly graces its surface.

  He rarely speaks, though I do see his lips move every now and then. I have learned the words are not for me, so I do not interrupt. If I look at the correct time, I may even glimpse a small smile or two from him. It is always when the sun is highest and the urn is angled just right.

  But I remain in the shadows, watching over him as always.

  Phaedra comes to stand beside me, her hand gently resting over my shoulder as her eyes follow mine out into the garden just outside.

  “Is he well this morning?” she asks kindly.

  We watch as Alexios adjusts his posture so that the sun can fall more easily across his shoulders. He shifts the urn as well, attentive as ever.

  “As much as he can be,” I say. “He is steady for now. That is the important piece here.”

  Phaedra watches him for a moment longer.

  “And the contracts? Is he handling the killing better?”

  “He is learning,” I answer without looking at her. “Slowly.”

  “How slowly?”

  “As slowly as I would prefer for him to,” I reply. “I can confirm that he is indeed improving, however. His spell work, especially. He listens before he acts. A good sign, I would say.”

  “That is a good sign,” she says. “You are doing great work here, my love.”

  “Yes, I believe so too.”

  Her thumb moves gently across my shoulder before journeying to my lower jaw as I watch Alexios close his eyes, turning his face fully into the sunlight now.

  Then I listen to him.

  “Why doesn’t Marquis ever come outside with me?” he asks himself.

  Phaedra’s head turns slightly.

  “You heard that as well?”

  “Yes. I did.”

  “You have never given him an answer, have you?”

  I keep my eyes on Alexios and how perfectly he occupies the space beyond the shadows of our home.

  “He does not ask aloud,” I say simply.

  “Marquis.”

  Outside, Alexios shifts again, smiling faintly and unaware that I am listening.

  “It’s warm today,” he thinks. “Should I ask?”

  Phaedra exhales before leaning down to press a gentle kiss to my cheek.

  “Talk with him,” she says “Perhaps it will be far more… enlightening than you expect, hmm?”

  I do not respond. Phaedra carefully watches my face while Alexios offers the sunlight to someone who cannot see it anymore.

  She exhales softly, pulling me from my thoughts.

  “The Mother enjoys watching him live openly,” she says lightly.

  My face turns to Phaedra.

  “Did she tell you that herself?”

  She smiles.

  “Yes, I went to see her.”

  “You were not meant to, Phaedra.”

  My attention is drawn fully on her now, though her shoulders lift in a languid shrug.

  “She did not seem to object.”

  “You do not go to her simply because you feel like it,” I reply quietly. “What if someone were to see into your mind as I do with Alexios? It would put all of us in jeopardy.”

  “You worry far too much,” she whispers. “She is clearly pleased with him and you know that when she is pleased, things tend to go… more smoothly.”

  She reaches, letting her fingers brush the collar of my robe. Her eyes glance quickly at the doorway then back to me.

  “You have been watching all morning,” she says softly as her thumb traces a slow line along my jaw. “Come to bed with me, Marquis. Carrying all of this stress does not serve you.”

  Her hand slips into mine and I let myself truly consider it. I nod once and she smiles, drawing me away from my armchair and deeper into the hallway. Then come the footsteps through the entryway. I still, even as Phaedra’s hand tightens around mine.

  Our eyes are pulled to Alexios as he steps inside, blinking rapidly as his eyes adjust from the brightness outside.

  “Oh,” he says softly as he notices us. “I didn’t mean to interrupt.”

  I release Phaedra’s hand without thinking properly.

  “That is quite alright,” I reply.

  Phaedra offers me a brief kiss to my cheek when I turn back to her.

  “Another time,” she whispers, surprisingly amused rather than annoyed, before stepping away.

  My attention turns back to Alexios as he takes a few more steps inside, setting the urn down on the small table near the window. Then he leans down and kisses it gently before bowing his head in what is clearly too intimate to be nothing.

  “I did not realize you prayed,” I say.

  “I’m not,” he responds. “Well, not exactly. I’m just… I’m just hoping that wherever Nykky is, he’s safe and happy. I don’t want him to be afraid anymore.”

  It is such a simple desire but also somehow the hardest thing to wish for.

  His eyes open again, posture shifting as he glances over at me.

  “Will you come sit outside with me?” he asks. “Phaedra can come too. If she wants.”

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  I breathe in slowly.

  “You know I cannot do that, Alexios.”

  He frowns.

  “I know you don’t like the sun” he clarifies. “But… it’s still early. Not too hot just yet.”

  “That is not the reason,” I answer back. “Alexios, what do you believe Phaedra and I to be?”

  Alexios’s shoulders rise and fall.

  “I know you’re… not just a human,” he admits. “That much is obvious.”

  “What else do you know? Surely the Underdark has legends of my kind.”

  I watch him closely now, his eyebrows furrowing as he searches his memories.

  “Blood drinkers,” he thinks, ideas in his mind half-formed. “Creatures that can only walk in shadows.”

  “Yes,” I say, nodding my head. “So you do understand.”

  “I don’t care what you are,” I hear him think. “It doesn’t change anything.”

  He turns towards the entryway, fully intent on stepping back into the sunlight.

  “I’m sorry, I just wanted to ask.”

  “Alexios.”

  He pauses, hand already halfway to the doorknob. I step closer, ever so mindful to not crowd him.

  “Are you afraid of what I am?”

  “No,” he answers.

  There is no deception in his crimson eyes, nor in his mind.

  “You did not hesitate with your answer,” I respond, taken aback.

  “Why would I?” he asks. “You’ve never hurt me. You could have killed me at any point, but you didn’t.”

  He smiles softly.

  “You are meant to be afraid,” I say curiously.

  “I’m not. You’ve protected me. Kept me safe, even when I’m certain you didn’t have to.”

  Through centuries of time, I have been met with many different emotions. Mostly horror, if I am being truthful to myself. But Alexios’s acceptance is… disarming.

  “You should go back outside,” I suggest gently. “The sunlight is expecting you again.”

  Alexios nods, then turns back towards the door to return to the light once more. I remain where I am, in the shadows of our home watching.

  --

  Alexios walks a few steps ahead of me through the forest as moonlight trickles through the mahogany trees. He is careful where he steps, keeping his cloak drawn tightly to keep the cool air out.

  “This should do,” I tell him, stopping in a small clearing.

  He places his pack down softly on the ground, nodding as he rolls his shoulders back.

  “Did I interrupt something earlier?”

  My cobalt eyes meet his crimson ones.

  “What makes you wonder that?”

  Rather uncomfortably, Alexios scuffs his boot across the ground.

  “You and Phaedra. I came in from outside and you both… stopped. I didn’t mean to.”

  “That is quite alright,” I say directly, holding my hand up to soothe him.

  It does not comfort him the way I expect it to.

  “I know I don’t always read things correctly when it comes to the two of you. I don’t want to get in the way.”

  Alexios does not speak out of jealousy or suspicion tonight. It is simply consideration.

  “It is nothing to concern yourself with,” I respond.

  “Okay, I understand.”

  But his thoughts drift in a separate direction.

  “I don’t want to be a burden.”

  I step closer.

  “Alexios,” I whisper. “You are not interrupting my life. You are a part of it now. Do you understand?”

  The words seem to be enough for him as he gives a small, embarrassed smile.

  “Right… I’m sorry.”

  “You have no reason to be,” I assure him before gesturing toward the center of the clearing. “Now, show me what you were working on last time.”

  He nods and the focus returns as he moves into position, lifting his hands as the night breeze bathes over our cloaks.

  Shadows stretch from the forest floor when Alexios reaches for them. Moonlight dims as he pulls inward to coax it. His hands tremble only slightly now when the shadows thin and thicken around us.

  “Good,” I whisper. “Do not force it. Let it come to you.”

  He inhales sharply and the shadows settle obediently, far cleaner than it was even a few months ago.

  “The Mother seems pleased with you,” I say casually. “Phaedra admitted it earlier this morning.”

  Alexios scoffs without breaking focus.

  “I wouldn’t know.”

  “No?”

  He shakes his head, careful to keep his eyes on the shadows he holds together.

  “She doesn’t really… talk to me. It’s mostly just orders. Sometimes nothing at all.”

  That surprises me far more than it should.

  “Perhaps she is waiting to see what you will become,” I suggest. “How do you feel about it?”

  The shadows ripple as his concentration wavers by a fraction, though he is quick to steady it again.

  “Relieved,” he admits. “Honestly, I don’t think I’d like it if she was in my head all the time. Feels like she’s standing too close. Knows too much.”

  “Like she wants to see how fast she can break me in,” he adds internally.

  “She still watches,” I say, keeping my eyes on Alexios’s hands as he carefully releases the spell so that the darkness may slip back into its natural state. “Even here in this very forest.”

  “I know,” he replies simply. “I think she likes what she thinks I’m capable of, if that makes sense.”

  “That may be true,” I answer. “But it is important that she not be displeased.”

  He nods while rubbing his hands together to warm them.

  “I don’t aim to displease her… as long as she leaves the rest of my life alone.”

  My attention is pulled to a trail of shadows still grasping at Alexios’s sleeves. Finally, his hands are lowered and the last threads of shadow dissolve as if they are simply bits of ink flowing through a goblet of water.

  “May I ask you something?” he says unexpectedly.

  “Of course, you may.”

  He hesitates briefly, then looks directly into my gaze.

  “It’s about you. About being… a ‘blood drinker’.”

  “You are permitted to use the term ‘vampire’, Alexios. It is what I am.”

  He glances at the trees.

  “Do you ever forget who you really are?”

  “No,” I say honestly. “Though there are times when it would be easier if I did.”

  I have chosen my words carefully, inclining my head as I wait for his thoughts.

  He nods slowly.

  “Does what you are make you cruel?”

  “It can,” I answer as honestly as I can. “Power always offers shortcuts.”

  “It doesn’t seem to have made you cruel.”

  “I had my reasons… and consequences,” I admit. “Living among mortals was the answer I found.

  I sense Alexios’s hesitation before he continues.

  “You call… her the Mother,” he resumes. “And her husband the Father. Is it because…”

  “They were the first,” I interrupt gently. “The first of my kind. They are our origins so we name them accordingly.”

  Alexios’s eyes roam over my face and down my body, perhaps searching for something monstrous.

  “Do you miss… before?” he asks carefully.

  I smile mournfully at that.

  “It can be complicated,” I start. “When you inquired if I would go outside with you earlier, a part of me broke. I desire to experience the sun again more than I would prefer to admit.”

  He nods again thoughtfully.

  “Thank you. For telling me.”

  His hands lift again, steadier than before as shadows stir along the forest floor once again. The acceptance of what I am still leaves me bewildered. It should bother him. It always bothers mortals.

  Fear.

  Revulsion.

  Fascination or desire poorly veiled as courage.

  I have lived with this for centuries, yet Alexios shows none of these.

  “Most mortals struggle with understanding what I am.”

  Alexios’s shrug is almost careless.

  “I figured.”

  “This does not trouble you?”

  To my surprise, he answers plainly.

  “I grew up surrounded by monsters,” he says. “Except they looked just like me. A drow. The Matrons hurt me simply because they could. They ripped me apart piece by piece because it amused them. I know what monsters look like, Marquis.”

  I do not speak. I merely cannot in this moment.

  “So no,” he adds. “Your vampirism doesn’t scare me.”

  My eyes tear away first. It almost seems like the shadows are listening as well. The centuries of violence I have not only seen but been a part of weigh heavily on my shoulders now.

  “You deserved better than the life you were given,” I admit.

  He smiles, albeit a broken one.

  “I know.”

  There is no anger in his answer now, nor any hope. Only… acceptance.

  --

  Composed as ever, Phaedra is standing in front of the hearth when we return. Alexios slows and draws his eyes to the polished wooden floor of our home.

  “I wanted to apologize for interrupting earlier,” he says quietly.

  The simple kindness in his actions causes Phaedra to laugh.

  “It was simply a moment of temptation between us,” she answers, gently waving her hand. “You have done nothing wrong, Alexios.”

  The color in Alexios’s cheeks deepen all the same.

  “Right. I just didn’t want to be impolite.”

  He gathers the urn from the table, cradling it with care before bowing to us both.

  “I think it’s time for bed now,” he includes.

  “That would be wise,” I tell him politely.

  Only when Alexios disappears down the hallway does Phaedra turn fully toward me.

  “You confessed,” she says.

  “That is one word for it, I suppose. He understood far more than I expected.”

  “He does not mind. He does not mind us.”

  My smile is faint, though it is there.

  “I adore him,” Phaedra continues. “It is clear you adore him far more than you believe you do.”

  Her suggestion certainly raises an eyebrow, but before I can question her further, her eyes flick briefly toward the hallway then back to me. The same mischief I saw in her sharp eyes has returned.

  She steps closer.

  “Let us leave Alexios to rest for the night,” she says, lowering her voice. “I have drawn a bath. Join me for an indulgence, hmm?”

  I glance towards the hallway.

  “In a moment,” I answer.

  Phaedra smiles, satisfied for the time being.

  “I shall be waiting,” she says, turning toward the bathing chamber and removing the pins from her dark hair to let it drape loosely over her shoulders.

  I linger for a moment longer, then I follow, attention swiftly pulled to the sight of Phaedra’s silk robe drifting from her pale shoulders. But on the way to our bathing chamber, I stop. Alexios’s door has been left ajar tonight, warm candlelight spilling into the hall. Truthfully, I would have kept walking if not for the sound of his voice.

  I cannot help but glance in.

  Sitting at the edge of the bed with Nykolai’s urn resting beside him on a plush, folded blanket is Alexios. His fingers move through his silver-white hair, dividing them into strands to begin a braid.

  He whispers softly as he braids.

  “I know,” he says to the urn, laughing softly. “I’ll sleep in a moment, I promise. I just wanted to tell you about tonight.”

  Alexios’s fingers smooth the strand of hair before crossing it again, tilting his head as if he is listening to something only he can hear.

  “My magic is getting stronger,” he continues. “I think Marquis is proud, but… I can’t tell. He doesn’t say it like you would.”

  The braid grows longer.

  “I wish you could've seen the moon tonight,” he says, resting his head against the urn in utter devotion. “I miss you more than I think I will ever be able to put into words.”

  I look away. This moment is not for me to witness, though I have crossed that line anyway. With Phaedra waiting ahead, I step back into the hallway. But for the rest of the night, the sight of Alexios in the privacy of his own room stays with me.