Coming Out
Disclaimer: I don't own the Coldfire Trilogy; it still belongs to the wonderful Ms Friedman.
Warning: Somehow I still have to polish the 'juicier' parts, and therefore I decided to split this fic in two chapters despite its relative shortness. The first one is rather harmless with the exception of a short discussion concerning sexual preferences, but the next one will be rated M for a reason, so please beware if you're not fond of reading about two men having it off with each other...
Setting: This story could be considered an alternative ending to CoS; as you will see soon I strayed farther from canon than I usually do for once. Tarrant is human again, but due to certain circumstances there's no need to change his outer appearance and give up his identity. I'm well aware that the Patriarch changing his plans for whatever reason and striking a bargain with Damien and Gerald is not very likely with regard to his religious fervour, but for certain reasons I needed them as the men of the day. Of course Karril has his fingers in the pie once again (my favourite deus ex machina, eh?)... This story is in no way ambitious and hasn't much of a decent plot but owes its origin to one single sentence popping up in my crazy head, Damien's reaction to it and my boundless mirth at imagining that situation. If you read on you'll know what I mean...
A/N: Ahem, Silvereyedbitch, I just finished reading your latest fic, and it seems both of us have Karril acting the matchmaker... Lol!
oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo oo
Damien uneasily fidgeted on his seat and wondered at which exact point of his existence the world had turned into a madhouse. On their arrival at the Hunter's keep to save the accumulated knowledge of centuries in the form of Gerald's priceless books and notes the warrior knight had expected the worst, but to his utter astonishment they were hailed as saviours instead of being put in irons or getting beheaded outright. A mysterious informant had apparently talked some sense into the Patriarch's stubborn brain, and the campaign against the Lord of the Forest had been declared a success before things got truly nasty. In the Church's official version of events the Lord of the Forest had perished along with his ally Calesta and had finally gone straight to hell where he doubtlessly belonged, and due to his undeniable family likeness with Andrys Gerald was pronounced a long lost cousin who had escaped the slaughtering of his relatives because of a long stay abroad at the behest of the Church.
Vryce had a hunch that their unknown benefactor was no less a person than Karril, but be it as it may he had apparently pressed the right buttons and had convinced the Patriarch that selling another Tarrant in service of the Church of Unification as the hero who had, aided by a valiant Knight of the Flame, rescued the human colonists from eternal enslavement at the hands of a sadistic demon would strengthen the Church's authority as much as a successful crusade but with lesser casualties. The warrior knight didn't even want to know whether their religious figurehead had listened to common sense for once or had just fallen prey to a very fine example of Iezu trickery instead. Maybe a combination of both had played a part in getting him to put an end to his tool's Andrys retaliation campaign spawned by Calesta's insinuations, but at the end of the day Gerald was still alive against all odds and reasonably safe as long as none of the few confidants disclosed his dubious past, and nothing else mattered. To Damien this astounding turn of events was another miracle he hadn't dared hoping for, surpassed only by the adept's unexpected reawakening from the realms of the dead as a human being, and his mind was still buzzing with the unforeseen possibilities enfolding before his inner eye.
Confronted with the deplorable condition of what had once represented a veritable storeroom of knowledge Tarrant hadn't exactly burst with joy, and reading the Patriarch's message wherein he had been briefly and succinctly informed that the destruction of the Keep and the Forbidden Forest along with demitting in favour of his last living descendant to sweeten the bitter pill for an outraged Andrys were an essential condition for the deal his mood had hit rock bottom. For a moment the adept's eyes had flashed with unbridled defiance, and registering the fury on his friend's exhausted face Damien had tensed up, ready for an intervention if the former Hunter came to the decision that chopping off a few heads would be in order as a punishment for those insolent claims.
Preparing for the worst the warrior knight had rested a comforting hand on a trembling, silk-clad shoulder, and to his amazement the tension had gone out of Tarrant instantly and he had bowed to the inevitable with a shrug and a low sigh. Gerald had always possessed a bright mind, and perhaps he had just come to the conclusion that under the given circumstances it wasn't altogether advisable to chance one's luck one time too many.
They had returned to Jaggonath in triumph a week ago and had attended so many victory celebrations and press conferences by now that Damien yearned for a bit of peace and quiet, but the Patriarch had made himself quite clear that performing those duties was part and parcel of the bargain, and so he found himself together with Gerald in the lounge of the Grand Hotel on a sunny Saturday afternoon satisfying the curiosity of yet another newspaper hacks.
After exchanging courtesies the handsome young man who had introduced himself as Dave Mac Masters got straight to the point. "Hope you don't mind me asking a rather personal question, but our informant hinted at some unfinished business between the two of you. The readers of the Jaggonath Times certainly would be delighted to know if their heroes harboured somewhat tender feelings for each other."
Tarrant just smirked while Damien almost choked on his coffee, and for a while he was much too busy gasping for air and wiping his watering eyes to reply to that nutty insinuation. Well, admittedly there were those dreams he'd been having lately, dreams which tormented his sleeping self with all too vivid images of Gerald and himself indulging in rather pleasant activities of the carnal kind, but that had to be a result of his sexual abstinence during all those months when they had tried to save the world from Calesta's manipulations. Nothing to worry about. Truly. If the damned God of Pleasure had indeed spilled the beans concerning their deeds and had come up with that crazy idea he wouldn't like to be in his shoes when Gerald finally got his hands on him.
"That's vulking ridiculous", Damien spluttered at long least. "Of course I won't deny that we've become friends over the years, but to imply that there's any desire whatsoever to hop into bed with each other is pure bullshit. Whoever told you that crap must be out of his mind! We're straight, man, and Gerald was even married and sired three children. Unfortunately his family fell victim to a terrible accident abroad, but he's certainly not into men."
"You're making a hasty judgement once again, Vryce. Actually I'm bisexual", the adept interposed casually, and the coffee mug fell from Damien's shaking hands and burst on the floor tiles. Not quite trusting his own ears he gaped at his companion in utter disbelief. In his own wicked way Gerald Tarrant had always been appreciative of delicate female beauty, and the concept that the ever so picky bastard wasn't altogether averse to having it off with a man just went over his head. That couldn't be true, had to be one of Tarrant's unnerving schemes or a striking proof of his weird sense of humour.
Having dropped the metaphorical bomb Gerald calmly leaned back and sipped at his red wine, but the thumb and index finger of his right hand commenced to languidly glide up and down the long stem of the crystal wineglass he was holding, and all at once the warrior knight felt quite hot under the collar of his shirt. The motion was slow, inconspicuous at first sight, and a casual viewer could have easily taken it for a sign of mental absence or boredom, but on Damien it had a rather disastrous effect. To his dismay watching those slender, pale fingers rhythmically caressing that bloody piece of glass elicited certain wholly inappropriate longings that Gerald would replace it with a slowly but surely hardening part of his anatomy. Very much against his will Vryce felt his ears reddening with embarrassment and shot Tarrant a withering glare.
The pale-grey eyes sparkling with sardonic amusement the former Hunter raised an elegantly arched eyebrow, but thankfully he stopped his suggestive activities and put the glass back on the intricately carved novebony table. Damien sagged with relief. He still had to digest his astonishment at Gerald's unbelievable statement, but facing the surge of arousal the damned son of a bitch had managed to ignite with nothing but a few ambiguous motions of his hand was an altogether different matter. Maybe the young journalist had a point and he indeed had the hots for the adept, but he still had to find out if his queer longings weren't a one-sided affair in the end. Just because Tarrant fancied men every now and then he didn't necessarily have to cast a covetous eye on Damien Kilcannon Vryce of all people.
"As we've made ourselves comfortable and feel free to talk about most private matters you might be inclined to inform us about your sexual preferences, Mer Mac Masters. Forgive my curiosity, but have you ever cared to expand your horizons and lain with a man? If not you should give it a try someday" the adept suggested nonchalantly. "Let me assure you that with a skilled lover the experience is astoundingly pleasurable. But let's face the facts. You had better not skimp on a high-quality oil the way you evidently do on your attire, or you might find the act rather painful indeed."
Gerald's smile was sweetness itself and his silky voice almost amicable, but Damien didn't fail to notice both the cynicism and the icy contempt lurking just beneath the pleasant facade, and if he hadn't been busy with fighting the urge to strangle that nosy scribbler and his incorrigible companion alike the warrior knight might have even pitied the young man who blushed furiously and was evidently no match for Tarrant's acerbic tongue. A frosty silence descended on the group of unlike men at the coffee table, and it didn't come as a surprise to Damien that Mac Masters bid his leave with a sheepish smile soon afterwards and fled their company as if the devil were after him. Vryce stifled a sigh. The adept had considered participating in this boring propaganda campaign beneath his dignity in the first place, and evidently he had just run out of his already limited supply of good-will once and for all.
"Was this really necessary, Gerald? The poor bloke looked as if he wanted the ground to open up and swallow him. After all he was only trying to do what he gets paid for. I'd rather like to know who put that insane idea into his head, though."
Tarrant snorted haughtily. "Maybe you should stop worrying about that impertinent prat and get your brains going instead, Vryce. I've got quite a clear idea of the wretched busybody who's prone to poke his nose into affairs which are none of his business, and he will have to answer to me for his audacity. Trust me that Karril won't like our discussion, but notwithstanding you should take into consideration that a Iezu can see right through human pretenses and self-delusions. From his point of view that pest in the guise of a man doubtlessly spoke nothing but the truth, and denying the obvious is futile in the extreme."
Stunned by Tarrant's impassive admittance of very human attraction of any kind whatsoever to him Vryce blinked and swallowed convulsively. His deceptive angel face utterly serene Gerald patiently observed him very much in the manner of an uncat crouching in front of a mouse-hole, and for a moment Damien felt sorely tempted to imitate Mac Masters by making a hasty departure. To hell with the vulking adept in general and his godawful condescension, intimidating stare and unsettling aplomb in particular!
Nonetheless the warrior knight couldn't help but marvelling at the outer changes the transformation from a damned, undead creature existing beyond the grace of God to a living, breathing human being had evidently wrought on his companion. With his delicate bone structure and unblemished alabaster skin Gerald Tarrant the mortal man was doubtlessly every inch as beautiful as the Hunter had been on the day when Damien had first set eyes on him in Briand, but there were some very subtle changes in his visage that told of his newly regained humanity. A hint of colour had returned to the adept's fair complexion, and for the first time ever the warrior knight detected some fine lines at the corners of his pale grey eyes.
Gazing spellbound at his friend who sat enthroned on his plush chair like a mythological king of old in his silken Revivalist robes, so utterly at ease in the bright sunlight which streamed through the precious stained-glass windows, Damien's heart overflowed with joy and gratefulness that Gerald had been granted this unique chance at redemption. His eyes tearing up he whispered a heartfelt thanksgiving prayer at the address of the One God who hadn't given up on His fallen Prophet of the Law but had held His protecting hand over the prodigal son despite centuries of torture and murder committed in the service of the Unnamed.
"Hope you don't mind me interrupting your religious ecstasy, Vryce, but for the time being I'm rather in the mood for more earthly pleasures. Care to accompany me to my humble lodgings? As I've already mentioned it's worth giving it a try, and you've always struck me as quite the adventurous type."
The warrior knight blinked once more, at the loss of words. Gerald's smooth voice was still utterly composed as if he were talking about the bloody weather forecast instead of making an indecent proposal, but when the corners of the adept's mouth turned up in an alluring smile which would have done the Prince of Darkness proud Damien's capacity for rational thinking rapidly disintegrated into thin air, and as if in a trance he got up and followed Tarrant upstairs.
