The King's New Toy - (Part 1 of the Ignaius-Saga)

Leaving the cage

After a while Tanier rolled to his side to look at the young man in his bed.

In his pleasantly dazed state, Variel had huddled closer to the warm body beside him. All thoughts of his studies and contraptions or even the snide remarks from the women were long gone. When Tanier looked at him, he had his eyes shut and his breathing had become deep and even: he had fallen asleep. His need for a wash didn't even bother him by this point; he was far too relaxed to care.

He found Variel sleeping. No, he surely didn't do anything wrong. He inspected the face. This time he did not stop to reach out to touch the young man, brushing away a strand of hair. Not that there was a need for it, not technically, but emotionally he had a deep need to touch, to be gentle. To love, maybe? He studied the face that looked even younger in his sleep. It wasn't much different from the many young faces he had seen in this bed. Happy faces and sad faces. Somehow Variel's face was not just one of them. He was pretty sure he wanted to keep him around, but did not really know yet how to best handle this. He would have to find a position for him. Not just a position. A purpose, as providing the realm with yet another heir was clearly no feasible option.

His fingers now trailed the collar bone that felt hard under the soft, pale skin. It was about time the boy met a few people, it was time to bring him out of this bubble. At least he thought so. Maybe he was already pushing too hard. He still had a full year. Almost.

He breathed a kiss on Variel's cheek and carefully got up, trying not to wake him. Strangely he was not tired yet and if he left now the rest of the night may still be useful to him.

Variel had always been a bit of an insomniac, or at least for the past few years. However, for the second time since arriving at the palace, he slept deeply and without interruption. If he dreamt, he did not remember doing so. He woke up feeling rested, but the disappointment sank in quickly.

Before long, he was back in his own quarters. He bathed and then turned his attention to the books lying on his table. He wondered when the next time he'd get to see the king would be, and how much grief he would have to endure from the girls. Not all of them were awful to him, but there were several that wanted it made clear that he wasn't welcome, wasn't one of them. He was determined to let it roll of his back; people had been treating him like a pariah all his life, even his own family. He should be numb to it by now.

With yet another visit to the king's bed, Variel was really starting to feel the difference. He hated it in this wing. He felt glum and uninspired here, like he was being caged. When he was with Tanier, he felt wanted, appreciated, even if it was just for his body. The king had even done him the courtesy of listening to him talk about his research, even if he hadn't actually cared all that much.

He found himself reading the same line of text over and over again, and it was at that point that he had to mightily resist the urge to throw the book. Instead, he set it down and just flopped back on his bed, arm up behind his head, and stared at the ceiling.

Was this really going to be how he spend the majority of the coming year, trapped here in this room avoiding the disdain of his neighbors with only those few fleeting moments of excitement and pleasure to break the monotony? He feared he would lose his mind if there were the case, lose the only thing about himself he truly valued!

It was only two days later that Variel was informed that the king wanted to see him again. Not in the evening, but in an hour. And the instructions said he should be prepared to go out. The dress order required informal dress, suitable for riding.

Perplexed was a good word to describe Variel's reaction to the note and instructions, but he followed them. He pulled on a pair of gray trousers and a shirt of the same color, with a blue and gold tunic over top of them. The outfit was complete with a black belt and riding boots.

A hundred theories on where he might be going ran through his head, but none seemed more logical than the rest. When he stepped out to see all the mounted soldiers, his heart leaped into his throat and a barrage of fears raced through his head. Had something happened?! Was he in trouble?!

As usual, a servant picked Variel up and let him through the labyrinth that was the royal palace. Finally Variel realized that they were going to the driveway where guests usually arrived and departed. As soon as they arrived, he was handed a horse. There was a dozen of mounted soldiers and only after looking around Variel noticed the king amongst them, clearly ignoring him. Still it was pretty much obvious that they were all waiting for him and the servant announced: "Your guest has arrived, your majesty."