Marquis

  Year 40

  It is as if Phaedra and I have been trapped in a vigorous loop for hours on end, our words used as poisonous weapons against each other.

  “Why must you always indulge him?” I question, desperate to keep my composure.

  “Why must you confine him, Marquis?” she retorts back. “What you are doing is not protection!”

  Just as I open my mouth to speak, Alexios steps into our bedroom, slamming the door open as though he were the personification of a storm.

  “I’m so fucking tired of listening to this,” he snaps at the two of us, crimson eyes seething with rage, even through his exhaustion.

  When I turn to answer him, my eyes rest on the black cloak resting around his shoulders and I feel that familiar feeling of irritation.

  “Mind yourself, Alexios. This is not a conversation you want to be a part of.”

  “Didn’t plan on it anyway,” he says smugly. “I only came to tell you I’m going out tonight whether you like it or not, and truthfully, Phaedra should come with me. At least we’d both be able to breathe without someone trying to own it.”

  “Alexios,” Phaedra starts gently.

  “Stop it,” he cuts in cruelly. “Why do you let him treat you like this? I find it hard to believe his cock is that good. If Marquis had it his way, we’d be trapped here forever.”

  “Do not turn this into vulgarity, Alexios,” she begs, dropping her shoulders in frustration. “Perhaps we could all go out together and enjoy a night beneath the stars?”

  “Absolutely not,” Alexios says, clearly content to speak on my behalf. “I don’t want anything to do with him tonight.”

  He raises his finger at me.

  “I’m going out,” he continues, turning to face me fully now. “I’m going to drink and touch people who aren’t you. I’m not asking for permission either.”

  I step forward, reaching out to grasp Alexios’s cloak before he can leave my bedroom.

  “I cannot allow you to leave,” I snap sharply. “You must stop this habit of making a spectacle of yourself and disappearing into another night of recklessness.”

  “I don’t care what you want!” he snarls and steps forward, refusing to stop until he is mere inches away from my face. “Why can’t you just allow me an inch of freedom?”

  “I did not realize that includes drinking and sleeping your way through the city,” I counter.

  “Fuck you,” he turns towards me viciously. “For you of all people to shame me for seeking out pleasure… that is absolutely ridiculous, Marquis, and you know it.”

  Phaedra raises a hand and steps in between us, forcing distance between the two of our bodies.

  “Must both of you criticize the other?” she asks, glaring between the two of us. Alexios ignores her, reaching for the door instead.

  “You do not need to leave tonight,” I say, making the mistake of trying one last time.

  “I told you I’m not asking for permission,” Alexios answers, glancing back at me.

  I am left standing here, Phaedra watching me with discomfort before retreating downstairs.

  --

  With Phaedra seeking solitude in the study, I am left in the dining room to bear the consequences of my own actions. Rather than attempting to speak with her, I let my attention roam to the grating laughter just outside the entrance to our home.

  Alexios enters first, draping his cloak along the couch as three men crowd around him like trophies he has collected during the night.

  “No,” I tell him, careful to not raise my voice.

  Alexios meets my sharp eyes, smirking in a way that irritates me.

  “What do you mean ‘no’?”

  “I said no,” I repeat. “They are not welcome here, Alexios.”

  One of the men laughs awkwardly, but Alexios refuses to break eye contact.

  “But I told them they could come upstairs,” he says lightly.

  “They will not,” I state, standing my ground. “This is my home, Alexios. Not a tavern. You will not bring strangers into this house.”

  The laugh that leaves Alexios is meant to wound me.

  “You don’t actually care about having strangers in the house,” he tells me, gesturing lazily to the men. “You’re mad that Phaedra and I aren’t kneeling and pretending you’re a god.”

  “That is enough, Alexios,” I interrupt carefully.

  One of the men clears his throat, shifting backwards uncomfortably. My gaze, sharpened as a poisoned dagger, cuts into the one leaning a touch too close to Alexios for my liking.

  “It is time for you to leave,” I order the three men.

  Instead of turning around and leaving us be, all three hesitate and watch Alexios.

  “Go wait outside,” he says annoyed, waving them off. “I’ll be back in a minute.”

  The men step just outside the entrance before the door closes with a sound that echoes far too loud.

  “You will not speak to me that way,” I tell Alexios.

  “Stop trying to imprison me then.”

  I exhale harshly.

  “I do not wish to imprison you, Alexios. I am doing what I must to protect what is left of us.”

  “Us?!” he shouts, eyes widening as if I just proposed something offensive. “There is no us, Marquis. We share a few kisses and suddenly I owe you something?”

  “You owe me respect,” I answer.

  “I just want breathe,” he pleads and then I see it clearly.

  Exhaustion set deep within his shoulders and behind his eyes. It would be better if he took the night to rest, though I know he will refuse it if the advice comes from my mouth. He turns away from me and reaches for the door handle once again.

  “I’m going back out and if that bothers you… good.”

  I desire for him to stay here with me, even if it is only to shout until he eventually exhausts himself, but I let him leave, knowing that I have completely lost control of him.

  --

  In an almost juvenile act of rebellion, Alexios refuses to come home, night after night. During my nightly walks, I have even caught him down alleyways with strangers, their lips grazing over his neck before they drop to their knees.

  To my surprise, the entrance door opens softly. Alexios walks in, eyes instantly landing on the bags lined up neatly by hearth.

  “What is this supposed to be…?”

  “We are leaving,” I tell him simply.

  His eyes widen in disbelief.

  “We?” he questions, searching around the room for a third presence. “Where’s Phaedra?”

  “She is not coming with us,” I answer.

  “What… what do you mean she’s not coming?”

  “Exactly as I stated, Alexios,” I gesture idly to our bags. “Phaedra will be staying in Faer?n. It has been discussed in your absence.”

  Alexios steps closer, keeping his crimson eyes narrowed in my direction.

  “So, you made the decision for her? Sounds about right.”

  “Whether you believe it or not, she made the decision herself.”

  Even from where I stand, I know he is considering his counterpoints and counting the angles of attack.

  “Do I get a vote then?” he asks harshly.

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  “No.”

  He growls, anger burning hot and bright.

  “You pack my fucking things without asking, then you tell me Phaedra’s not coming, and I’m expected to just… follow you?!”

  “I expect you to stop tearing your damn self apart and try being considerate to yourself for once,” I reply, nearly as sharp as his tone.

  “This is punishment,” he snaps. “This is your version of punishment because I won’t behave, right?”

  “Punishment?” I say, aghast. “This is not exile. I am simply wanting to remove us from a place that has turned rotten.”

  “Because of me…?”

  I step closer, raising my hand to lightly caress his wool cloak.

  “It is not my desire to cage you, Alexios. If you say no, you stay with her and I depart alone.”

  Even with the heaviness of Alexios’s emotions, the house feels almost hollow without Phaedra watching. Alexios looks at the bags again with his life folded almost neatly inside. I reach for the final, most important, object as he turns away from the bags. Carefully, the urn is lifted in both of my hands and held out to him

  It is almost as if the fire burning inside of him has been extinguished. For the first time in… years, I observe the way the urn eases the anger from his body, leaving something raw and painful in its place. He takes the urn from me without another word before holding it against his broad chest.

  In a matter of seconds, shame and humility hit him all at once, made clear by the way his shoulders lump forwards as his eyes drop to the floor in regret. Whatever fury had a hold on him tonight, it has died without a fight.

  “You didn’t forget him?”

  “How could I, Alexios?” I reply calmly. “You will leave at dawn and sail to Delaria.”

  His head shifts to the side, urn still firmly pressed against him as if the memory of the bard will disappear fully if he does not hold tight enough.

  “I’ve never heard of it.”

  I bow my head slowly.

  “That is exactly the point,” I explain. “We will sail west through the Trackless Sea to quieter cities. Far enough away that perhaps the commotion here will not follow us as easily.”

  Alexios’s eyes fall back to the urn, thumb gently caressing the side of it. The burning fight inside of him, still quiet now, has fallen into true exhaustion. He does not bother to hide it any longer.

  “You really think moving to a different continent will fix all the shit I’ve done?”

  “No,” I admit, shaking my head. “Though perhaps it will permit us enough silence to determine what comes next. For both of us.”

  He inhales deeply, considering the possibility of elsewhere while still holding the horrors of his past.

  “I don’t know a single thing about Delaria, Marquis.”

  “I do,” I say. “I own a home in Mira Port. You will sail there and I will follow a few days behind.”

  Alexios’s head rises rapidly.

  “What…? Why?”

  “I have additional… passengers that must travel under my guidance,” I say evenly. “It will take time for me to prepare them for travel and I do not wish to delay you any further.”

  To my disbelief, tears begin to rise in his eyes.

  “How do I know you aren’t just… abandoning me?”

  The question stings and pulls me closer to him before he can retreat, my hands resting gently on his shoulders.

  “If I were abandoning you, I would not be sending you to one of my homes, Alexios.”

  He wipes a few stray tears with the back of his hands.

  “Where exactly is this… Mira Port?” he questions me.

  “It is a coastal town located on Delaria’s northeastern side. The home has been mine for longer than the city has even existed.”

  He nods slowly, attempting to take this information into account.

  “And you’ll be there with me?”

  “I will arrive there as well,” I confirm without delay. “I swear it, Alexios.”

  It seems as if my words will not convince him, so I lean in and allow my lips to brush the corner of his mouth.

  “I am not leaving you,” I repeat, lips moving to graze against his cheek now. “I will follow.”

  One of his hands comes up to the back of my head, fingers threading through my pale hair.

  “Mira Port?” he repeats, worry apparent in his voice.

  “Mira Port,” I confirm for him once again.

  He steps back just as I do with the intention to give him space, my trust falling entirely into him now.

  --

  The passage to Delaria is far rougher than I imagined, with the violent winds that never seem to pass without a clash. Those on board take note of my pale complexion, unable to decide if I am simply ill or… something else. My thoughts are on Alexios and his successful arrival. With the Mother and Father tucked away, hidden far from sight, I leave and travel quietly through the damp streets of Mira Port.

  It is awfully quiet when I first step into my home, situated just at the edge of town. I pause, undoubtedly expecting to hear Phaedra’s voice. My heart aches when I do not. The house feels… unusual without her.

  I ache for her tonight.

  Upstairs, I find Alexios, lying in bed in a tense way, urn kept close to his chest while he trances. Even here, thousands of miles away, it seems as though he is still haunted. Relief finds me regardless. I move closer, standing in his presence far longer than I should, eyes drawn to his mouth and the line of tension between his brows.

  I want nothing more than for things to be different here and for the distance between us to become manageable, just as it was years ago when I desired him as a companion. Deep in my heart, I know the truth. I want him… to want me.

  My hand reaches out before I can stop myself, fingertips gently brushing a stray strand of silver-white hair from his face. I lean in and capture his lips with my own. There is no sign of fracture in his trancing.

  Then I leave him to rest, stepping away quietly and hoping that Delaria will give him the peace I fail to give, repeatedly.

  --

  With the pale morning light being cast away with thick curtains, Alexios sits at the dining table without ever taking a small bite of his meal, bread surely cold by now.

  “I felt you kiss me last night, Marquis,” he speaks softly while his shoulders fold in, as if speaking to me is taking a fraction too much from him.

  “I did,” I admit without offering a single excuse or explanation other than desire.

  With no energy to face me this morning, he turns away, maintaining eye contact with anything he can as long as it isn’t my face.

  “Phaedra stays behind and suddenly, I’m supposed to be a replacement for her?”

  “You are not meant to fill her absence,” I tell him, too quickly perhaps. “She is irreplaceable. I do not want for you to be anything other than Alexios.”

  His hands fidget with the teacup, brows kept tense.

  “Are you going to do it again?” he asks.

  “Yes,” I answer without hesitation. “If you yearn that as well.”

  I cannot tell if what passes through his mind is a sense of relief… or fear.

  “I want you to imagine Delaria as a new tome,” I add. “This is a beginning, not an escape, Alexios. You will have the opportunity to write your own story here and I will make sure of it.”

  Irritably, he huffs out an exhale through his nose.

  “You’re going to make sure of it?” he bites sharply. “Sure, it sounds nice coming from your mouth, but you’re still deciding where I live and where we go.”

  “Alexios…” I begin.

  “You pack the only pieces of my life I still have,” he continues, voice cracking under the weight of tiredness. “You pick the town and the fancy house, but is this not just another cage with a view?”

  I shake my head with disappointment. How do I get him to understand why I choose the options I do?

  “You are correct, Alexios. I did decide this for us. I chose Mira Port because perhaps it will be quiet enough for you to hear yourself think. I chose this ‘fancy house’ because it does not carry any memories of us and I hope to change that.

  I step forward, firmly taking his hand into mine.

  “But what you do here is still yours, do you understand?” I follow. “That choice is not mine to make for you.”

  He pulls his hand away suddenly and pushes his plate away.

  “You say that, but it still feels like I’ve traded one leash for another.”

  I simply cannot be dishonest with myself… his words wound me. However, I do not admit this to him. Rather, I sit her with him, protected from the sun by dense curtains in our home while desperately wishing this will indeed be a fresh start for him. The ocean whispers just outside the thick walls, waiting patiently for us to figure the other out.

  “I wish Nykky could have seen all of this,” Alexios mumbles. “He would have loved exploring and traveling the way you and I do.”

  It is a devastating admission from him. One that almost has me pulling him into my arms, though I know he would despise it in this very moment. No matter how carefully I tailor both of our lives, there are things I will never be capable of giving back to him. Alexios swallows sharply as a hand comes up to bat at a few tears falling down his cheek.

  “It feels… wrong that I’m alive and he isn’t,” he breathes out. “I just wish he could have walked into a beautiful place like this. He’d find you so incredibly fascinating and would listen to you talk about all the things you’ve seen and done. The painters you find interesting…”

  The thoughts alone are almost enough to make him smile, though not quite. It loses its momentum just as quickly as it came. His shoulders fall forward even more as both grief and hope bury themselves even deeper inside of him.

  “I would never ask for you to leave him behind,” I explain gently. “Continue carrying him in your heart and in your soul… no matter where we go. If he were here, I believe he would be delighted to know that you kept pushing forward.”

  Choosing to sit with my words rather than respond, he simply nods and finally surrenders enough to take a bite of a slice of fruit that had been cut and abandoned earlier. If Delaria is to exist as a way for him to write his own story, I must learn not to write it for him.

  --

  I walk silently through the darkened streets of Mira Port. Just as it exists in the day, the night is no different. Everything here exists quietly and without a pull of attention. It is exactly what I find necessary for not only myself, but Alexios as well, whose thoughts pull me away from an alleyway to a pier overlooking the sea.

  His thoughts are rather restless with any sense of direction fleeting, though not because of the Mother. No… not because of her this time. He sits patiently, focus kept on the gentle swaying of the sea’s waves. Just as I step forward, fully intent on taking part in this small section of peace he has found for himself, someone else sits down beside him.

  Alexios turns to face the young man who is clearly too careless and confident enough for his own good. From the shadows, I watch them smile at one another. The stranger offers him words with a flirt’s cadence, gesturing eagerly to the water. I hate that I start counting the inches in between them, clenching my jaw as I attempt to remind myself that I have no right to stand here feeling what I do after everything said during breakfast.

  It is not that I fear losing him to another man. Not completely, at least. It is that I fear becoming irrelevant to him. I turn away, not knowing if I can bear to watch any longer tonight.

  --

  I have taken the liberty of moving a high-backed chair from our modest library to a spot near the dining room. Just as I turn the page of a book I have read a dozen times, the entrance door opens. Expecting to see a night of indulgence written clearly across his face and body, I prepare myself for the storm that usually follows him after. Except… I do not. He closes the door carefully and it is then when I realize he is not drunk or wearing that usual afterglow of lovemaking that I have come to expect from him.

  He looks drowsy. Thoughtful, almost. My eyebrows raise in surprise. Truthfully, I had expected him to be out much later.

  “You are home so soon?” I ask, astonished.

  “Mh-hmm,” he mumbles, undoing the clasp of his wool cloak and draping it over a nearby chair.

  The calmness of his presence forces me to close my book.

  “I assumed you would be out a bit longer,” I start.

  “How come?”

  “I saw you during my walk,” I admit, giving myself away. “He seemed… sure of himself. Your preference, as I have gathered.”

  Alexios raises his shoulders languidly, seemingly unbothered by my watching.

  “He’s attractive,” he says smoothly. “Works as a fisherman for The Salty Gull Fishery. But… I just wasn’t interested tonight, I guess.”

  When he steps closer to me, there is not the smell of smoke or strangers following him. It is as if the only thing that has laid its lips on him tonight has been the salty breeze of the sea. Then he leans down, guiding his own lips to my cheek with far more intimacy than I suspect he intends.

  “I’m sorry,” he whispers, just inches away from my ear. “I’m sorry I keep fucking things up for all of us. I’m sorry we had to move all the way to another continent without Phaedra. I know you love her… and I know it’s my fault she isn’t here. I… I understand if you hate me.”

  “Gods,” I mutter, already reaching for his face so I can feel the softness of his lips against mine. “Do you truly believe I despise you?”

  I do not know what calls me to bare my fangs, to desire the taste of his blood in mouth. Perhaps it is in knowing that he could have chosen someone else tonight, yet he has come home to me instead. He pulls away, though not in fear as others would in his place. For a moment, his eyes fixated on my mouth, I am quite certain he will test the sharpness of my fangs with his finger, but instead... he takes one of my hands and leaves a gentle kiss.

  I think back to a younger Alexios, who was unafraid of what I am even then, telling me that the monsters who haunted him before were those who bore the same face as his very own.

  “Goodnight, Marquis.”

  The book lay forgotten in my hands as I watch him retreat upstairs to his bedroom, left to consider if he has finally chosen me.