Special thanks to Nadja for beta’ing..

Daryun solves a mystery.

The typical: These pretty boys do not belong to me, I just like playing with them. ~_^

The One I Love

Author: RoninBrat

I don't remember when it was I fell in love with Narsus. Before the war? After?

Before the war we had several playful trysts. Events rarely in the privacy of our rooms. For me it was lust. I wanted him then and there. He could always get me into that state. He was damn good at it, too. He could just cast a glance with those doe-like eyes of his and I was following him down some path ready to strip him, if time allowed. Perhaps even youth played a hand; our first time together when he was fifteen.

For him, I think he liked the challenge of not getting caught when we were out in the open. In the gardens. In dark, isolated hallways. He wasn't so shy in the open. His touches were bold, seeking. His mouth often going down on me in semi secluded spots. When we were in a private setting with plenty of time for intimacy, he would go all shy on me. He is and always will be a strange person. It was as if intimacy scared him. But he endured my touches, my kisses, during those times. It was my time to worship him.

I know when he left, stripped of land and title. I missed him dearly. My heart bled, my loins ached. I should have went to him, instead of leaving him wasting away to his wine and paintings. But then the war came, and it brought us back together. We all concentrated on one goal, to place Arislan on the throne.

Now the war over, I want to concentrate on bringing Narsus back to me, on capturing his heart before someone else does. He does not pay me the attention that he once did. I know he was hurt that I never came to visit him. And I'm almost positive that he felt it had been only lust, not love.

Seated behind him now, I put up with some boring orchestrated concert, only to have a few peaceful moments to observe him. I hate stiff-necked upper crust social events. Everyone in their finery. Plastered smiles upon insincere faces. But I am a Lord. A general in the Pars army. It was duty. It was for Arislan.

I’m apprehensive. A little nervous. Now that things are finally settling, I want only a few moments of his time to tell him how I feel. To show him how I feel. But with the end of the war his duties grew. He is Arislan's full-time advisor.

He sits behind Arislan, to the king’s right. Next to him, his aide and a secretary. But the one that concerned me most was the man seated too closely to Narsus’ left. Leaning almost intimately towards him. That one had to go.

He hadn't been here when I left; gone a month on some border mission for Arislan. It would seem our Shindran allies cannot be trusted. The mission had given me quiet time, time to think about what was and what could be. I came home only this morning with one definite decision, Narsus would be mine. And I would feel no shame in it.

Relationships such as what I hoped to have with Narsus were not uncommon, but frowned upon for heirs, the ones expected to keep bloodlines going. Narsus and I both were firstborns, but we were orphans. And I didn't give a damn about who would inherit what when I passed on.

Glancing back over I noted the quiet exchange. That man actually had to nudge Narsus to get his attention. Narsus wasn’t focused on the orchestra or the dancers on the floor. He seemed distant. Lost. It took the young man several tries to get Narsus to even acknowledge his existence. And when he did, it was with barely a tilt of his head. I had to admit to myself that there was genuine concern etched in the stranger's face. It made me look beyond Narsus' beauty.

He barely acknowledged something the man said, a simple nod of his head. His pallor was ashen, a gray tinge to his skin. His bottom lip quivered slightly. His hands in his lap where not quiet either. They fidgeted, twisting his fingers. This was not Narsus behavior. He did not fidget. He did not sweat. He was the most serene man I'd ever met. He was always cool and calm. You never knew what he was thinking or how he'd respond to you.

Before I could gauge any more from my observations, Arislan turned and cast one glance at Narsus and stood abruptly. The orchestra seemed to stop on cue. Arislan gave some pretty speech about the loveliness of it all and that his wish was for everyone to continue, but he had to go. Urgent business.

With him stood Narsus' entourage and then Narsus who slowly gained his feet. With his head bowed, he followed Arislan out of the room. The stranger stayed beside him, seeming to guide him with a hand on his arm and a look of concern still on his face.

Now I was concerned. And well, hell, I'm part of this group too, and I needed no more than that knowledge to follow them all out.

When I entered the corridor Arislan and the stranger stood to either side of Narsus. Arislan was speaking into Narsus’ ear, a hand caressing his back.

What was going on here?

"Your majesty."

Arislan turned at the sound of my voice, giving me a small, warm smile. “Daryun. Welcome home."

"Thank you." I stopped next to them, my gaze going straight to my heart’s desire. Slowly Narsus looked up and turned those glorious golden eyes on me. My heart nearly stopped at what I saw. His once keen stare was dull. His eyes glazed. "Is everything alright?"

No one volunteered anything. I could see Arislan's attention returning to Narsus. It seemed as if everyone was waiting to see what the advisor would want to divulge.

"Daryun." Narsus spoke. Too soft, too strained.

"You are ill." I wasn't asking, I was stating a fact.

Narsus gave a sad little twist of those lips I knew so well. "It would seem so, yes."

And then he gave me the warmest, little smile, but it didn't last long as panic seemed to take hold. His hand fluttered to his chest and then his throat. His eyes all but rolled in the back of his head before he managed to turn away from me.

"Milord?" Narsus' companion spoke with desperation.

"Can't breathe." It was a gasp, those words and they barely managed to pass Narsus' lips. And then Narsus’ hands began ripping at his throat. His eyes widening. "Gods."

And then he started to collapse. The three of us acted in unison, catching him before he hit the floor.

"Narsus?" My hands loosened his collar. I felt his pulse. His heart was racing. He was panicking. "Narsus?"

His eyes closed and his hands clenched and unclenched at his throat. His companion was fanning him. Like that was really going to work. The general in me took control.

"Straighten out his body." It was Arislan who moved to help me. Peering down into Narsus’ panic stricken face, I spoke softly. "Narsus. Try to relax. I'm going to help you breathe. Trust me."

The priests frowned upon the procedure I was about to perform, but I didn’t care what priest thought and I knew Narsus wouldn't be grief stricken if breaking one of their codes might help him. Placing my hand under his neck, I tilted his head back. Bending over him I brought our mouths together and I helped him breathe. I gave him all the air he could need. Breaking only to gather more air into my lungs. In the background I could hear the companion muttering ‘blasphemy'. A religious one. Screw the gods.

I kept one hand on Narsus’ bared chest, trying to gauge the beating of his heart. He wasn't calming down. He needed to. Before my mouth descended again I coaxed him, "Relax. Just breathe for me, Narsus. Breathe with me, for me."

Narsus' hand covered mine as my mouth covered him again. It took some time before any normal color seemed to return to Narsus. He had finally relaxed. His eyes closed, his face lost that desperate look. When I stroked his face he opened his eyes for me. Staring into mine. The panic seemed to have left him.

Gathering his prone body in my arms, I lifted him. He weighed nothing, telling me he'd been sick for a while. Without saying a word I strode towards his rooms. The companion walking quickly to catch up to me. "That was wrong. How dare you….”

I didn't even let the man finish his indignant religious rant. Without breaking stride, I asked, "Who the hell are you?"

"He's a physician, Daryun," Arislan spoke up.

"A physician?" I stopped then. I felt Narsus' hand tighten its hold on my tunic and his whispered, “Play nice, Daryun.” It made my lips quirk in amusement. But I was dead serious as I turned. "You're fired."

I didn't wait to see or hear the impact of my words as I made towards my goal. I could hear urgent whispering behind me. "That was rude."

I couldn't see Narsus’ face but I knew he was amused. I gave us both what I hoped was an encouraging smile. "Shush. Yell at me later."

It was Quishward that had the insight to be waiting at Narsus' doors, holding them open for me. With a nod of my head I thanked him as I entered the room heading straight to Narsus' bedroom. Arislan was hot on my heels. "Open the balcony doors. Let as much air in here as possible."

I maintained my focus on Narsus whose eyes were closed as I gently laid him on the bed. Quickly I began loosening as much of his clothing as I could without offending his modesty. Removing his soft boots, I resisted the urge to rub his feet. He used to just melt, when I paid close attention to his feet.

The physician I fired stood to the side. I managed to hold my temper in check. Narsus did not need to hear anything that could upset him for his breathing was still shallow. Evidently the physician didn't seem to care about my opinion as he spoke. "A cool wet cloth would help."

"Well, then get it." Our eyes locked in a short battle of wills. He broke first and made his way out, hopefully on a useful pursuit.

"Daryun. He is the best we have," Arislan broke through to me.

Closing my eyes, I nodded. "I'm sure he is, Arislan."

I would say no more, not in Narsus' presence. Returning to Narsus' side, I sat on the edge of the bed, taking his hand into mine. His hands were so cold. His eyes fluttered open. I brought one of his hands to my lips, placed a kiss on cold fingers before beginning to massage some warmth into them.

"General Daryun's back." And he smiled this distant little smile.

"Yes he is," I said, reaching out and stroking back hair that clung to his face. "Try not to talk Narsus. Just relax."

He didn't argue, he just obeyed.

A few moments later the physician returned. A bowl of water in hand, several towels over his shoulder. I watched as he set the bowl on the low table beside the bed. He could not get to Narsus with me sitting where I was. It proved hard, but I moved, letting the man be useful.

Walking to the balcony doors, I silently indicated to Arislan and Quishward to follow and they did. When we were a safe distance away, I asked, "What is going on?"

"We don't know, Daryun, not for sure anyways. He gets better and then he gets worse," Arislan answered. I could tell he was perplexed by all of this.

"When did this start?"

"His illness first became apparent about two weeks ago. I think he was ill longer and just hadn't said anything."

Typical, independent Narsus. "So he told you finally?"

"No. Quishward found him passed out in the gardens. I’d sent him looking for Narsus when he didn't show for a briefing."

I closed my eyes. "You say he gets better and then worse, what do you mean when you say that?"

Arislan looked to Quishward nervously before answering. "When Quishward found him we called in the physicians. They purged his system, bled him. He would stay in bed a day or two, seem okay and then it would start all over after a few days. It’s happened so much that all of us started watching him closely. Like at the concert. I saw it coming."

"Poison?" I asked.

Quishward shrugged. "We haven't ruled it out. I just haven't been able to determine how."

"He's lost quite a bit of weight," I observed.

"That's because he's all but quit eating. He tried to refuse tasters, I wouldn't allow it so-“

"So he quit eating because he doesn't want something to happen to someone else," I finished.

"Pretty much."

I shake my head. "What have his habits been of late? Anything that can relate to anything? A change in diet? What?" I throw up my hands. I am frustrated because I know this has been all covered and I wasn't here. But still I'm going to run them through routine. I wanted to know what they had uncovered if anything.

"He sleeps. He eats or used too. He paints. He walks. I think he went riding one day. And then there are the everyday court sessions, nothing unusual there."

"Yes. He had an escort when he went riding. They didn't even stop anywhere. Then of course there are guards all over during court sessions." Quishward supplied the rest of the riding tale.

"Daryun," Arislan started, taking a tentative step towards me. "He's been under a lot of stress lately. Maybe he is sick. Maybe he has developed a weak heart."

Maybe. But I didn't feel we could afford to believe it was that simple. The gray tinge to his skin screamed poison.

Walking back to stand in the doorway of his room, I became instantly angry at what I saw. Two servants had Narsus' arms pinned down as that damn physician placed leeches on Narsus' upper body. I could see the distress clearly on his face. Narsus hates bugs. I suppress a shudder, I hate those particular bugs, too.

I felt a hand on my shoulder, but I didn't turn to see who it was. It was Quishward's voice that reached my ears. "It's a heinous procedure but it has helped him before."

I turned my eyes from Narsus' face, so tempted to put a stop to it. I started occupying my mind with what-if factors. "Let's say it’s poison. Who? Why? How? And when?"

Arislan moved up beside of me. "If it is poison, how? I mean, Quishward and I both went over every activity, every visitor, every motive."

"I don't know," I whispered.

I spent the remainder of Narsus' torture watching, standing at the foot of his bed. I was clearly at war with myself to stop the procedure altogether. Since I could not, I was determined to somehow suffer with him. I wasn't too big of a fan of leeches either, but if the damn things helped...

Narsus managed to somehow relax, struggling to school his features, trying to hide his disgust. I thought if I could focus on him, I could give him strength. Standing there helplessly, my eyes trailed his frail frame. Already I had a plan laid out to get him to eat again, even if I had to feed him myself from my own plate.

Several times my gaze went to his feet, having this urge to just massage them and relax him further. But what would these people think if I did such a thing? He'd always had the daintiest feet. Damn pretty for a man. But Narsus wasn't just any man. He was pure exotic from head to toe. Inside and out. And sensitive in many areas. To divert my attentions from exotic thoughts of Narsus, I focused on his mind. This I loved, too.

I have always been proud of him, even when he boldly spoke that mind of his. To speak one's mind is true bravery.

My study soon moved to his hands. An artist's hands. Slender hands. As pretty and delicate as his feet. When they held a sword, hands as deadly as his words. Hands more than capable of massaging away my strenuous days. It was there that I noticed stains on his fingers. For some reason those stains made me curious. And my curiosity took me closer.

I told myself not to be rude as I made a request to the physician to ‘please excuse me'. He promptly moved. I took his place on the edge of the bed. Gently I lifted a hand to better inspect it. Narsus didn't stir. Perhaps finally he'd fallen asleep.

The blotched stains on his fingers were glossy. After closer inspection, I decided it wasn't faded ink. A common sight I'd grown used to when he was a mere secretary. It wasn't paint, or was it? Narsus had always been careful about getting paint off his hands and he wasn't a messy artist. I leaned in, wondering if his fingers might have a smell I might have missed when I kissed them earlier. They did. And it was nothing I'd smelled before.

"Do you have any idea what Narsus was doing when you found him the first time?" My question was directed at Quishward who had stayed with me. I heard him walking across the marble floor until he stood beside me.

"He was painting. His supplies were scattered out. I guess one could assume he was cleaning up and perhaps dropped them when he fainted." Quishward leaned closer to see what I was seeing.

I turned to the physician. "How long have you been shadowing him?"

"Two weeks. Since the third spell, I think."

I waited a moment to see if the man was bright enough to follow my thoughts. He wasn't. "Each time he had a spell, what was he doing?”

The man frowned. "Painting."

"And this morning, before the concert?"

"Yes."

I turned to Quishward. "Are you thinking what I'm thinking?"

"Yes."

I gently laid Narsus' hand down. Eying those damn bugs again. I wanted to ask how much longer he had to endure this, but didn't.

Standing I looked about the room. "Where does he keep his supplies?"

"There's a closet outside the balcony doors. I believe that's were he keeps them."

After locating the closet, I opened it. No strong odor emanated from the enclosed room, which meant Narsus kept his paints sealed, and what smell was apparent came from the paintings themselves.

Using what light was available from the great outdoors I moved into the small space inspecting everything. For the most part, paints start as powder. There were clear jars of dry powder. Many colors. I opened a few to catch a scent, trying to match the smell on his fingers. The powders did not match.

I'd watched Narsus enough to know he used either water or oil to liquefy his paints. I knew Narsus' painting habits all the way down to his cleaning of used brushes. It was that, the cleaning solution, that I began my search for. I couldn't find it.

Frowning, I turned to Quishward and the physician whose name I hadn't bothered to ask. Was I feeling guilty about that? Not at the moment. "He was painting this morning, where?"

"Outside in the garden on the veranda."

I headed straight there. Sure enough several large containers sat on the steps. Two of his palettes tilted neatly side by side. Most assuredly to dry. It was one of these I picked up, smelling it, catching the strong scent.

His cleaning material?

There were only three medium sized jars. One jug was flipped upside down, no doubt the water jug. Narsus always used fresh water, which meant he dumped the contents after use. The other two jugs, sitting a step above, were sealed. One I knew on sight to be oil. The other was the one I eyed cautiously, it was not a familiar item to me and if it did contain some type of poison then I, and anyone else, was just as susceptible as Narsus.

"Well?"

The physician stepped up beside me. Quishward had moved to catch a whiff of the palettes.

"I know one jar contains an oil base mixture he uses for his paints, the other I'm not familiar with, but judging from the smell on the palettes and on his fingers, I'm thinking whatever it is, he's using it to clean his items when he's finished."

"Whatever it is, nearly knocked me on my ass." Quishward stated as he moved beside us.

"Enough to take one's breath away. Possibly long term damage if over-exposed, you think?" I asked as I squatted down, pulling out a kerchief from inside my uniform.

"Yea. I would think." Quishward was a true friend squatting down next to me, risking his own health. The physician stayed back. I suppose that made him a smart boy.

I looked around the veranda as I laid the kerchief over the corked top. "There's a lot of ventilation here.” Returning my attentions to the corked jug at hand, I gently began working the cork loose.

"You know, shortly after you left, Narsus had mentioned something about a very smelly spill, and he apologized to everyone who had to suffer the smell."

"Where did this occur?" I asked.

"He said in his supply closet. Evidently the smell affected the rooms in the upper level. If I'm not mistaken the harem got evacuated for a few days."

"Oh? Well then, I bet, because he knew this stuff was smelly and most likely his fault, our Lord Narsus cleaned up the mess himself in an enclosed environment."

Quishward nodded slowly saying the last four words with me.

"So, he's no doubt sickened himself to the point where any exposure to the stuff brings on an attack of sorts." I glanced back towards the physician. "Is that an acceptable scenario?"

"Could very well be, if his lungs were damaged and haven't had time to heal. Repeated exposure will continue to make him sick and eventually kill him." The physician looked thoughtful. "Perhaps I should check on him."

"Yes. Please do. And get those leeches off him, fresh air will do him better."

My hearing was keen enough to catch an indignant sniff from the good physician as he turned and left us.

Quishward looked at me questioningly. "I don't think I've ever seen you take an instant disliking to anyone as you have that poor man."

I shrugged. What could I say? That he was a religious fanatic of the worst sort? Would risk life and limb in order to uphold those beliefs? That I didn't like how close he had sat to Narsus during the concert? Was I ready to admit to anyone that I had been jealous?

"Yes. Well, he should have been just a tad more investigative. Perhaps then this mysterious illness could have been handled sooner."

Removing the lid only part way was enough to tell me this had to be our culprit, whatever the hell it was. Slamming the thick cork back down, I cringed, musing out loud, "Wonder why he quit using just plain soap and water?"

Quishward stood. "Like I would really know, Daryun."

Standing myself, I took a whiff of my kerchief. It smelled. I decided I didn't want that smell following me around, tossing it down on the stairs beside the jugs, I turned back towards Narsus’ doors.

"Good luck trying to persuade him in any way about his art." Quishward snorted, humor laced in those words. Seemed everyone knew about Narsus' thoughts on any opinion I had on his art.

I grunted my response, knowing in my mind there would not be any persuasion about it. Narsus was just going to have to find some other way to clean his brushes and palettes.

~Finis

comment: roninbrat@aol.com