You've heard stories of Rex Lapis, of course. The parcel of land you rule over is tiny, but stories of his prowess in battle have reached even you and your people. Rex Lapis, the God of War, who understands battle and weaponry, strategy and bloodshed far more than you ever will, whose hands and weapons have drawn more than their fair share of blood.
And yet, your first impression of him is that his eyes are beautiful.
They're the first things that you're drawn to; those intense amber eyes, the deep gold reminding you of honey. Then, later, when you manage to tear your gaze away from his, you stare at the dark chocolate hair framing a breathtaking face. His eyes narrow slightly, but his features are otherwise schooled into impassivity as he takes you in, your body language stiff and prim, betraying the tension your body feels.
"The God of Flowers, I presume." His voice is cultured and smooth, with a rasp that makes your stomach flutter. A frown line mars the space between arrogantly slashed brows. "You wished to meet with me?"
You hide your hands in the folds of your robes, embroidered with thousands of handstitched pearls meant to resemble the flowers you so dearly love. You have to struggle to keep your scrambled, panicked thoughts from showing on your face, but still, real fear seeps into your voice when you say, "Yes."
You have to pause to take a breath, to steady yourself. "I'm – They call me the God of Flowers. And I want to make a contract with you. Please."
"Oh?" The intense magnetism he exudes grows in strength, becoming a near tangible impression of vibrant and unrelenting power. His white cloak ripples and lifts in the breeze to show the hard muscles of his stomach. Very studiously, you keep your eyes trained on his face. "And what would you ask of me?"
Your cheeks warm. This is a conversation you've played over in your head before coming to seek out Rex Lapis, but that doesn't make it any less daunting. Especially since your reasons for seeking him out aren't particularly profound. In fact, it's almost something that a child might ask. You have no desire for money, or gold, or precious gems. You have enough of those in your temple, with its maze of lavishly furnished hallways. His liquid topaz eyes are penetrating – trying futilely, you assume, to lift the truth straight from your mind. But now you can't look at him. You keep your gaze trained on the gold silk tablecloth, and it takes all your self-control to keep your hands motionless in your lap, not to smooth it down, to tug at the corners so that it lies flat.
Finally, when the silence becomes unbearable, you sigh, and your exhale of air brings with it the heavy scent of roses in full bloom, mingled with a strange briny scent: waves crashing on rocky shores, dolphins diving. "Pinky promise you won't laugh?"
Your cheeks feel hotter than ever as you press your lips together, now all too aware of how naïve and child-like you must seem to him. Rex Lapis watches you closely, and you think that he might almost be on the verge of smiling. Almost. The ghost of a smile on his lips heightens your awareness of him to a physically painful degree. His earthy amusement makes him less of a god and more human. Flesh and blood. Real.
Your embarrassment eases briefly, but still, you hasten to explain, almost tripping over your words in the process. "Oh – It's what the children in my village do when they make promises, it just slipped out –"
"Ah. Another contract." Rex Lapis nods, sounding almost intrigued. When you dare to peek at him through your lashes, he's watching you with a peculiar expression that sets your stomach fluttering. "How is it done?"
"It's simple. You just link your pinky fingers together, and make a promise. And that's that."
"And that's that." Rex Lapis echoes. "Very well. Give me your hand."
Still uncomprehending, you do as he asks. You watch, entranced, as he twines his pinky with yours. Your pulse leaps when his grip tightens. His touch is electric, sending a shock up your arm that raises the hairs on your nape. "On this pinky promise, I give you my word. I will not laugh."
You soften, a small smile tugging at your lips, though your next words are anything but happy. "I'm lonely."
You can't remember who you were before the world made a ruin out of you. So many people you've loved have been wrenched from your grasp, your fingers still scouring claw marks into their skin as you'd clung to them with all your might. You have watched as the life has left their eyes. You have mourned them and you have envied them and you have missed them at every moment.
"I'm lonely." You say again, the words colored purple with your anguish. You open the palm of your hand, watching as an iris blossoms to life upon your palm. It seems to you ironic that while plants flourish to life around you, the same can't be said for the humans in your care, who are fragile and loveable, and rife with the stink of mortality. "I thought – It would be nice to have a friend. That's why I sought you out."
I'm weak. I'm scared of being alone.
Silence falls like a foot of fresh snow. Then something shifts in the air. As he stares at you, it's as if a shield slides away from his eyes, revealing a scorching force of will that sucks the air from your lungs.
And then Rex Lapis nods. "I accept."
"Oh." You say, all your breath leaving you. You smile, big and bright as relief spreads through you. As if conjured by your smile, the temperature rises, warmth raining over the space, as if sunbeams are falling from the force of your smile alone, like warm honey slowly pouring. "Oh – Yes. Um, how does a contract with you work? Do I need to sign anything?"
Again, there's that almost ghost of a smile on his lips, but the intensity of his gaze is searing. It feels as if his entire focus is on you. "Another pinky promise would suffice."
"Oh –" Why is that the only word in your vocabulary at this very moment? "Alright."
"In exchange for my friendship, I ask that you loan me your power whenever I have need of it."
"I accept the terms of your contract." Your throat is tight when you speak again, but you manage to get the words out. "Stay with me. Until the end – whenever that may be."
"I give you my word."
And again, you link your pinky with his, and as you do, power burns in the air, binding the two of you to what you've agreed.
It seems to you a funny thing, that right at the end of your life, you should remember your first meeting with Rex Lapis like this.
With much effort, you finally manage to open your eyes. It's excruciating. Your eyelids feel as though they're made of lead. At first, you can only perceive one thing: light. And with this slight stirring of consciousness, your body erupts into joint-wrenching pain. Nothing exists outside of your body, outside of all this pain that you know will consume you.
"It isn't his fault." You say on a choked whisper, feeling tears well in your eyes. You aren't sure if it's a plea or a prayer – the latter of which is ironic. An Archon praying? You'll do it a thousand times over, as long as life still burns in your body, if it only means that Rex Lapis will escape punishment for breaking his end of the deal. "Don't –"
Stay with me, until the very end, you'd told him.
Rex Lapis isn't here, but still you cling to him, holding him close in your final moments; the intensity of his burning gold eyes, the ghost of a smile on his lips, how his presence had made you feel safe for the first time in a century, the way he'd looked at you, as if he'd understood you.
You smile. And it is a fragile, broken thing. "It was a good life. Thank you."
And it's with a last exhale that your body melts into the dirt beneath it, covering the land in summer roses, the afternoon bringing their fragrance to full bloom.
It's the first and the last time that Rex Lapis ever breaks a contract.
