Warning: A very risqué bath scene happens in this chapter between two male characters (though it is noted that no actual lemon happens but there is dialogue that talks about it). This fanfic MAY be bumped up to M-rating because of it and possible risqué scenes that could happen later on (no explicit lemon or anything like that though), but I'm not sure if I should. Please let me know if the reviews if I should go ahead and make this M-rated due to these scenes. Thanks!
7. Embrace Me
Arganan growled as he tried to scrub off as much blood as he could in the large pool with a measly piece of cloth. He was more than sure that his skin was red and raw underneath, but right now he didn't quite care. As long as the blood was off, it was good.
It was unfortunate indeed that Cassius had destroyed most of castle's living quarters with his 'Area Illusion' spell. This also meant that Arganan would have to use one of the more common bathing areas, which consisted of a bathing pool, towels and such, but nothing fancy. Nothing nice aesthetically compared to the private bathroom he had when he was Count, once upon a time. He sighed, continuing to scrub himself off as well as he could. He almost considered getting someone to drain this pool and refill it with fresh water, if they would be kind enough to.
The blood stained his vision for so long. If Calista wasn't there to help him calm down, he wasn't sure what would have happened. Would he have gone insane? Why was he alive, even? He'd been killed by the Outsider, last time he remembered.
Oh. Right. The Blood Warrior power—whatever in the world this dastardly mark was. He gazed at the back of his right hand, frowning a little at the sight of it. It looked like some smudged, dark bloodstain that just wouldn't come off. And he doubted it would ever come off, too. Good thing he usually wore a glove on said right hand.
He didn't understand why he had this 'Blood Warrior' power or how he quite got it. All he remembered at first was some 'Cassius' talking to him, telling him to hurt his niece, and that he'd refused and managed to rebel against that man's voice in his head. Cassius had just dumped him afterwards with the others. Left him behind and fled.
Arganan wasn't surprised if the other saw him as a 'weak link.' Cassius, he supposed, hated rebellion, and probably thought him to be useless, hence leaving him behind. Speaking of rebellion, shouldn't Asthar be here, too? But he'd left with Cassius. He'd been compliant to Cassius' command. That didn't make any sense. Arganan never thought of the General as someone who would betray people. His loyalty was unwavering.
What happened so that it made Asthar cooperate with Cassius, then? What leverage would Cassius have for Asthar to obey him?
Therius was a possible option, Arganan figured as he tried to wring his hair of some of the water. Maybe Cassius threatened to harm Therius and that's why Asthar obeys him. He does care for him very much. Therius is Asthar's pupil, after all.
He saw blood dripping from his wrung crimson red seemed to bloom like flowers on the tiled bathroom floor.
He winced at the sight. The blood was probably still in his hair, wasn't it? As far as he could tell, he probably had light red streaks in his hair that'd be impossible to remove, now.
At least he got most of it out, though. At least, he hoped he did.
"Count."
The voice seemed to hiss into his ear, soft and low, with just a slight sultriness to it. Arganan felt himself shiver at the familiar voice, whirling his head to the left to see who it was—
And there was no one.
Was he hallucinating? Thinking of old memories too much?
Perhaps it was both.
A sigh escaped him as he looked down at the light red bathwater (light red because of all the blood he was trying to wash off) and he turned to his right to grab a sponge, or cloth, or something that could help him scrub off the blood—
And a bloodied hand clamped onto his wrist, golden eyes gazing into his one working blue one.
Arganan gasped, trying to back up and pull away, but Dagran kept his firm grip on him, eyes trained on him. Blood dripped from several places on the younger man's body, most notably from a stab wound in the chest.
No.
There was a symbol there, now. And it clearly resembled the mark of the Blood Warrior.
The same mark that Zesha, Therius, Cassius, Asthar and Arganan himself had.
"You can't be real."
The words slipped faster from his mouth than he could think.
The younger man's lips curved into a smirk, leaning forwards to whisper in his ear.
"I assure you, sire," Dagran's warm voice, dripping like too sweet honey, wormed its way into his head, "I am certainly real."
There was a faint pause, and Arganan heard him take a soft breath, before he sensed the other start to pull away. But not before he kissed his cheek, the left cheek where it was scarred from events of long ago. The older man couldn't help but shiver slightly, and he heard Dagran chuckle.
"It's been too long." Dagran murmured, golden eyes gazing into his one good one. "It really is too long since we were alone like this." He chuckled slightly at that. "You should relax a bit more, Count. It's just me."
Arganan gazed right back at him, unsure of what to say. He was aware that he and Dagran shared a…intimate relationship prior to both their deaths. Physically intimate, at least, if not emotionally, but Arganan liked to think it was emotionally intimate at least from his half of said relationship.
Arganan had assumed Dagran was dead. He hadn't seen him with the others, and Zael and Calista informed him of his death after Cassius and Asthar fled.
But Asthar shouldn't be alive either, and he was alive. Arganan wasn't supposed to be alive, and he was alive.
So why not Dagran?
But what if this really was…?
"Prove it." He whispered softly. "Prove it to me that you're real. Tell me," He gazed right back into Dagran's, eyes, "Tell me proof of how we first were together so intimately. Then I could believe you. How do I know you're not just an illusion messing with my head?"
Dagran's gaze appeared to falter, and he seemed to frown. "Are you saying you don't trust me?"
Arganan shook his head. "I'm not saying I don't trust you, Dagran, I just want to know I can trust myself to know that you're real and not a damned illusion."
He watched Dagran smile. It wasn't a calm, collected one though. It was almost sly, bordering on a smirk.
"The first night we were together," Dagran spoke, "was the night before the ball celebrating Calista and Jirall's engagement."
He leaned up close towards Arganan. The older man would have flinched and pulled back, if Dagran wasn't holding onto his wrist still.
"And you were practically blushing the whole time, too. You said you'd never done it before with anyone, let alone a man, a mercenary, so you let me take control."
Dagran kissed Arganan's cheek again, and Arganan instinctively shivered. Dagran being so close to him, alone like this—
This felt so good. So right. So perfect.
Too perfect.
"You speak the truth." Arganan managed, seeing Dagran pull away from him slightly so he could look into the other's golden eyes. "That was what happened, back then."
"Good." Dagran flashed a smile, the smirk fading slightly. It was calmer now—
"Do you trust me?"
Arganan took a deep breath, closing his good eye for a moment, and then opened it quietly, watching some of the blood drip down Dagran's temple. Arganan raised his right hand to try to wipe it off with the cloth, but Dagran let his grip on Arganan's wrist tighten a bit, and Arganan blinked, dropping the cloth, sinking from the weight of the water dragging it down.
"Do you trust me?"
Did he have to repeat it again?
"I do." Arganan managed, his good eye looking up from the cloth to Dagran. "I-I do trust you Dagran. I love you. I just—" He felt his voice catch in his throat, and his metal hand reached for Dagran, managed to wrap his metal arm about the other's waist. Dagran seemed to accommodate to the half-embrace, shifting closer to him, and Arganan heard him chuckle, gazing up at him with some sickeningly sweet gaze.
"Did you truly think," Dagran started, "That I'd be passed over by a Blood Warrior's mark? If you and Asthar came back to life—" He shrugged a bit, "Why not me?"
Argaann hesitated, before nodding once.
"I…I thought so. I never saw you, though." He admitted. "Not until now, that is. Why are you—?"
What if—?
Arganan let go of him, and strength seemed to renew itself in his right arm as he pulled out of Dagran's grasp, the water splashing over the edges of the bathing pool and slapping onto the tiled floor, slight red of washed-off blood mixing with the white tiles. "Did Cassius—"
"Him? Oh, no." Arganan heard Dagran laugh. "I came to see you of my own accord. You do miss me, don't you?"
"I do," Arganan found himself saying. "I do miss you, Dagran. I missed you on the day I died."
He saw Dagran freeze, for a moment, his expression flickering, and then slowly muting itself back to a more stoic expression. Or was that a hollowed sadness in his eyes?
"I missed you on the day I died, too."
Dagran's voice came out a bit softer at that. He almost sounded reluctant to say it, and Arganan wondered if the younger man simply wasn't that open to people so often. Perhaps it was so. Perhaps it was something else. Maybe he shouldn't mull on that for much longer. He didn't know.
"I—"
Arganan thought back to his own death, and then tried to block out Mitra from his head. He shivered, and it wasn't from the bath water getting cold.
"I'm sorry I wasn't there for you, Dagran."
He heard the other chuckle grimly, and his hand cupped Arganan's scarred cheek.
"It doesn't matter now. That's the past." Dagran used his hand to tilt Arganan's chin upward a bit so they were keeping eye contact. "We can be together again, like this."
"How?" The other questioned. Arganan kept his gaze with Dagran. He didn't understand. "How do I do that? Accept you back again?"
"Isn't that obvious?" The other gave him a slight look, his hand still cupping the other's cheek, fingers smearing more blood on it. Arganan nearly reeled at the rusty-iron scent, but forced himself to breathe, steeling his gaze into Dagran's eyes as the younger man continued speaking. "Accepting me coming back to you is one thing, but there is also something else. The Blood Warrior's mark. Its powers haven't quite worked well with you, as far as I overheard from everyone else talking. But that's because you haven't accepted them. Haven't embraced them."
What?
Why was Dagran bringing this up now?
"What do you mean?"
Arganan heard his own voice echo through the room, and Dagran seemed to simply smile.
"All you need to do," The younger man murmured, his breath too hot against Arganan's skin—slick with blood and water— "Is to embrace your power. Then we can truly be together."
Arganan frowned at that. "Embrace my power?" He repeated. "You…don't mean—"
"I do mean that." Dagran leaned against him, and Arganan soon realized he was pressed up against the side of the pool behind him, Dagran practically twining himself about the older man in front. The older man gazed at the other softly, watching him do just that, with nearly no resistance.
"Wasn't this what you always wanted?"
Dagran's voice easily echoed off the tiles, and even more so.
"To have power? To have me? That's what you've always wanted, isn't it?"
Arganan wrapped his arms about Dagran, trying to support the other so that if Dagran were to lean back slightly, he wouldn't fall backwards. He shuddered at the closeness of their beings—they were practically chest to chest. Arganan could feel the blood dripping from Dagran's own skin still, the redness beginning to darken the water a bit more.
"Yes." Arganan closed his eye for a moment, only to open it and gaze into Dagran's own eyes. "Yes, I wanted this. I still want this."
He saw the other smirk softly and lean forwards, his breath ghosting itself at Arganan's lips.
"Embrace your power, then. Embrace me."
"Count Arganan!?"
Arganan gasped, jolting forwards and realizing he was alone in the bath. The water was much darker, a deep red, and he looked up from the water to see none other than Sir Therius.
"I heard your voice." Therius started, the white knight fully clothed and walking around the bathing pool to try to reach him without getting too much water splashed on him. "You sounded almost panicked. Are you alright?"
"Panicked? I—" Arganan looked around him.
Someone was missing.
"Dagran was just here."
The words came out of his mouth before he could stop them.
"Wait…what?" Therius looked around. Confusion crossed his face. "Dagran was here? Count, you're the only one here in this room other than me."
"No—" Arganan nearly stood up in the bath, grabbing a nearby towel to wrap about his waist. "Dagran was here. I saw him, Therius! He was just here, and—and—" He climbed out of the pool himself, shivering as he felt the cold air swirl around whatever skin wasn't covered by the towel. "He was here!"
"Count, calm down." Therius spoke, voice weak, and he felt Therius' hand gently rest on his shoulder.
Arganan shook his head, shrugging off Therius' hand. "I can't just calm down, Therius. It doesn't—It doesn't work like that!"
His voice came out sharper than he intended, and Arganan winced. That had been the same use of voice he had in the past, whenever he took out his rage on Calista.
"I—" Arganan looked down, closing his good eye. Shit. He didn't want to fuck things up again like last time. "I'm sorry."
Therius seemed to falter, his hand hesitantly touching Arganan's shoulder.
"It's alright." Therius managed in response, and Arganan looked up at him, taking another deep breath and trying to ignore the smell of water, blood and soap. He knew Dagran had to be here. He was here. He felt him, heard him, saw him….
And now he wasn't here.
Therius managed to coax him out of the bath, telling him he'd draw a new one so that Arganan could properly wash himself off. That Arganan had a point—if Arganan was alive, why not Dagran?
But even as Arganan got back into the not-so-bloodstained water again to properly clean himself this time, he felt miserable that Dagran didn't reappear beside him, even once he was left alone again.
In the shadows, Dagran smiled, having reclothed himself from earlier, and vanished.
