To Never Be Spoken Of Again.
I recently got into this series, and I love it. Too bad my mother doesn't approve. -shifty eyes- Oh, I heart you, older hard core siblings. I've only read The way of Shadows so far, so please spare me any spoilers, please! I've been writing so many school papers, with mandatory formats with a giant list of no-no's, so this is rather stiff at times. I need to get myself used to being 'loose' again.
This is not yaoi, but rather a bit of fluff we never got to see, other than like the 9th page when he places his hand on Azoth's shoulder, then the very last ones when he holds him after he's dead. I don't see them not having rather Father/Son dynamics, I mean come on, it's like 11 years, right?
Beta'd by Lori-Mina.
In the two years he'd been under the assassin's wing, Kylar couldn't remember a time the man even sniffled his nose. He'd had a number of minor colds and chills himself (none of which he got down time for) but never, ever was Durzo Blint a sick man. With in the last three days, every thing he'd come to know about Durzo's health suddenly washed down the drain.
The first day included a change of safe houses. It was not not expected - bound to happen sometime - but this was a little bit... extreme, for the wet boy's tastes. The 'house' was two rooms, and a short hallway, hidden deep in a abandoned corner somewhere off set from town. Kylar couldn't even name the town, he was out like Momma K's short burning candle the whole trip, and when he awoke it was rather a surprise.
The second day boiled down to this: Clean up this room, I'll stay in this room. Suffice to say, there was nothing but dirt and a old, poorly woven rug on the floor. It would of been perfect for a weapon store, and even had the pegs bounded into the walls already, but there was no indication that they'd ever been used to balance a killing device. Somewhere around night fall Kylar had finally mustered enough bravery to mount his tools of trade on the wall, hoping like hell they weren't a trap or something. To his relief, they weren't. The cold had intensified over night, and Kylar woke up with large whelps of goosebumps.
The third day equaled a long ranged quarrel down the dusty, windowless hallway. The apprentice was bored out of his mind now and really didn't want to die of ennui at this point, so taking his chances (he'd been doing that a lot lately) he'd stumbled down to the other end and knocked briefly. Holed up in his room, Durzo groaned. Kylar glared back. Durzo told him to get the hell away from the door. Kylar obeyed. Durzo finally stopped wailing for a period of time. Kylar went to check, got told to get the hell away. It was concerning.
Outside the doubled locked, triple trapped door noises of the night floated about. Kylar was more than curious at this point, and the longer he was left in the dark (literally) the more Azoth poked through his skin. Shrugging away his hay bedding, accompanied by it's little spider colony, the boy mustered all the stealth he could to tip toe back down to his masters room. He paused for the briefest moment to check the knob, and once finding it frighteningly clear of any locks, he checked the hinge. There was a small, but yet easily noticeable thread woven through the loose device. Obviously it had been a careless move... devoid of the energy to properly set a trap. He didn't waste a moment shoving the door open, trying not to hesitate. To his side a small piece of wood fell to the ground, startling him. Kylar side stepped widely, pressing himself to the wall with a gasp. It wasn't that the trap was such a freight, it was the limp shape huddled on the small bed seated in the corner. The dimming candle flickered shadows over the head wet boy's body, and with a shake the apprentice crawled closer.
"Master Blint?" It was met with silence, save for the shallow spark of breath that always accompanied the man and his garlic. The light from the candle continued to fight to stay alive, dying at the hands of it's own wax. The cold wasn't letting it melt decently, and it's end was only inevitable. With a shaky hand, the Azoth with in him reached out to rest his palm on the man's bare arm. Almost a icy temperature, Durzo stiffened.
"..." Kylar frowned, retracting his hand as the Night Angel slowly shifted away to the far side of the bed. His contact with the wall caused a small shower of dirt to rain down, but he didn't even bother to blink away the earth. "Durzo Blint," he mustered again, as sternly as he could. No response awaited him.
'Damn. What's wrong? I can't leave, and I have no clue where we are. Where's Momma K when you need her?'
The former guild rat rubbed at his elbow, brows knitting together in frustration. Everything he'd been told about abandoning emotion slipped away, and with a long pause prior, he lifted away his shirt. Carefully he sat it at the foot of the bed, and even in the growing dark he could see the flicker of 'What the hell, boy' in Duro's seemingly lifeless eyes. It increased quickly when Kylar reached for the end of his master's tunic, shuffling it up his body with difficulty. "M-master Blint... just work with me?"
The man released a long sigh - the most noise Kylar had yet to hear since the time he entered - and relaxed. The apprentice wasn't sure what was crossing his master's mind, and it troubled him even more when his eyes lidded slowly. Carefully, with a small tug his got it over Durzo's head, exposing his well worked chest and abs. Stuffing away envy and all embarrassing thoughts, the white haired boy climbed into the small bed. This caught Master's attention.
"K-kylar... s-so help you by the Sa'kage..."
"Please, stop fighting with me! You are sick, weather or not you want to admit it! Just let me help you, alright?!" Ears still ringing with his own defiant words, Kylar pressed his bare chest to Durzo's and cold rippled through both of them. "Picture me to be... anyone you want me to be."
With his foot he tossed the bundle of clothing higher up, including the assassin's forgotten cloak Kylar found on the ground, and tossed it over his back. It was a pathetic blanket, and in hopes to make up for it he awkwardly tucked them under the older wet boy.
"... A-azoth." The words rumbled from Durzo's chest, shaking the apprentice. He didn't flinch when a hand lifted and weakly punched him in the shoulder. It did cripple him inside, and Kylar suppressed the tears coming to his eyes. His master was suddenly so defenseless, and now at Kylar's mercy.
"... Y-you know that body heat will warm you up, right?"
Blint blinked, clicking his jaw as his nose began to leak a stream of god awful snot, catching on his lower lip. Bobbing his body with the strength he could muster, he slowly began to wiggle out from the lengthy boy, fighting against his prodding limbs. "No," he snapped suddenly when a warm drop fell on his chest, across his spiraling scar.
"... yes, master..." Kylar flushed hot, wiping the tears away from his face as he pulled away from the bed. 'Stupid stupid stupid. He's not a street rat. He knows how to keep himself warm. Stupid, stupid! He isn't Doll Girl, He isn't Jarl...'
"No." To the apprentice's surprise it was ringed with... laughter? "S-stay. But you are... Kylar... your self. You are not... a whore."
It took a moment for the chopped sentence to process, and before it did there was a hand on the middle of his back, pushing him to the open side of the bed. Kylar suddenly broke out with laughter, and then even more when he realized that his master really must be feeling shitty and out of the loop. He fell into place beside the larger man, shimming the make-shift blankets back into place. Kylar pressed his face into the man's bicep, trying to stop his bubbling laughter. 'Great Sa'kage... I must be coming down with it too.'
"W-We never speak of this again..."
"Yes, Master."
"... and you are out o-of my bed by morning... understood?"
"Yes, Master."
There was a 'hmph' of defeat on the assassin's end, and a final purr of laughter before the safe house silenced, leaving them both to float away to sleep.
Kylar didn't dream of the incident with Rat that night.