Silence. The expression in the myrmidon's eyes did not change, nor did he make a move to withdraw the knife from his friend's throat.
"I'm sorry," the green-haired sage whispered with a sniffle. "I disgust you, don't I? Just... just get it over with and kill m-" Merric was cut off, not by a frigid blade severing his throat but something far more deadly: the myrmidon's lips were pressed against his. Squirming under the swordsman's grip and letting out a muffled grunt, the sage finally melted into the kiss. It was far different than anything he'd imagined; in fact he'd thought it'd be somehow akin to kissing a reared cobra, something quick and cold, emotionless and lacking in depth. Something that could only hurt, that he would regret...
Yet as they shared their first kiss, the only thing Merric regretted was not confessing his feelings sooner. Cheeks tinged crimson, he was suddenly aware of his position: hands on the myrmidon's bare torso, muscles rippling powerfully beneath his fingers, the elder in his lap, legs straddling his own. The sage felt himself growing uncomfortably hot under his thick robes but didn't want this embrace to stop. Navarre's hands found their way into his thick robes, making the sage shiver and break away from the kiss.
"Do you want me, Merric?" the myrmidon purred softly.
"N-Navarre, I..." The sage leaned close as if to kiss him, but froze as common sense returned. "We shouldn't be doing this!" He pushed the elder man away, eyes filling with tears once more. "We are both men! Do you understand what some kingdoms do to... those like us? Do you understand the shame, the humiliation that we would bring upon ourselves and our families?"
At this the myrmidon remained silent, not bothering to hide his pain. "I do understand," he whispered, hanging his head. "For you it would be worth the pain..." Wrapping his arms around his friend gently, he let out a sigh. "But if you do not feel the same, I understand."
"No," Merric pleaded. "I-I do... But I'm scared, Navarre. What will they do when they find out?"
"They already know," the myrmidon replied softly. "Yet they have done nothing."
The green-haired sage then remembered something. "I heard Gordin and Draug were also... together, but never believed it..."
Navarre nodded. "'Tis true. Wolf and Roshea as well."
"Wolf and... Roshea? ...Why?"
A shrug.
"What is going on?"
This earned another shrug. "It... it very well might be natural."
"Natural? The Law states it very clearly that this is an abomination!"
"I do not understand either... yet it is happening."
"Navarre..."
"Merric," the taller man cooed, stroking his cheek lovingly. This time Merric engaged the kiss, tentatively reaching his hands up the myrmidon's back. He felt the taller man's nimble tongue flick across a sensitive spot in his mouth and tensed, making a strained whimpering sound. He pulled away for a breath, panting slightly and smiling shyly. "I love you," Navarre murmured, and for the very first time Merric saw beneath his friend's mask. There was still the sharpness, the slumbering bloodlust, that haunted look he would forever carry, but only a trace of it...
What Merric saw in his friend's expression could not be rendered into words or cohesive thought, he could only wrap his arms around Navarre, confident that no war could ever divide them.
"Lie with me, Merric," the myrmidon breathed pleadingly, his tone stained with lust.
The sage pulled away, remaining silent and gazing into his friend's eyes as if studying him. "I... I would love to..." He paused to think, then shook his head slowly. "Yet we cannot." The brown-haired myrmidon opened his mouth to speak, but the sage quickly silenced him, pressing a finger to his lips.
"We cannot," he repeated. "Not here, not yet..." Giving Navarre a peck on the cheek, he smiled sweetly. "Though I would happily sleep in your embrace tonight."