Cloister Nine
When the next day dawned Beclem was immediately reminded of the previous day's events by an excruciating headache. He looked over to the table that stood beside his bed to find it void of the helmet which usually sat there. It hurt a little to realise that his last physical tie to Chappu was gone, but not as much as he thought it would have.
Something else had moved to fill the place in his heart where his love for Chappu had once resided. Isaaru had accepted him even more warmly than Chappu had.
Beclem could still feel the ghost of a warm touch where Isaaru had let his hands rest the day before. Isaaru's kind smile flitted across his memory, and Beclem let out a groan as he realised how far he had fallen.
Damn Keekah for being so right about him…
It was bad enough that he had fallen in love. The fact that the new object of his affection was an ex-Summoner and the current leader of New Yevon just made it one hundred times worse.
Then again, perhaps Isaaru was open-minded enough to actually…
No. Beclem didn't let himself even hope that Isaaru returning his affections was a possibility. That could only lead to heart break.
The world really did work in strange ways, Beclem thought, smiling as he remembered how his earlier interactions with Isaaru had begun. When he thought about it though, he realised he had never really hated Isaaru; not even when they had been trying to kill each other. He hated what Isaaru stood for, and he hated the way the other man always acted so polite and happy around others when that was clearly not who he truly was, but Beclem had never known Isaaru enough to hate him, at least, not until recently.
And this knowledge certainly hadn't brought hatred, but the opposite, even though love would probably bring even more problems than hate would. Still, it was nice to have something to look forward to, even if that was just seeing a certain someone else smile.
"My Lord?" Dorian asked Isaaru for what was the third time. "We were asking if you had reached a new Cloister yesterday."
"Hmm?" Isaaru said, the faraway look disappearing from his face as he was practically forced to pay attention to the meeting he was currently involved in. "No, we didn't. There was a powerful fiend in Cloister Eighty and Beclem and I were forced to retreat."
Isaaru still hadn't decided whether or not he would fight the fiend again. It seemed too cruel to force Beclem into another fight against a being that used to be one of the few people he had ever cared for.
Apart from that, Isaaru had far too many other things to think about.
Beclem's revelation of the previous day kept haunting Isaaru. He had meant what he had said to Beclem; he had honestly never even thought of two men being in love with each other as a possibility, and a small part of his mind kept wondering if perhaps he was the same as Beclem.
He had never found a woman that he could fall in love with; had found only a handful that he could even admit to finding attractive. Yet there was something about Beclem that awoke something in him that Isaaru hadn't even known had existed beforehand.
The idea that it might have been love was something he hadn't even considered until yesterday. Surely it couldn't be love though, or even attraction. Isaaru told himself that it was merely because he had finally found someone that understood him. He would willingly admit to caring from Beclem, more than he had cared for anyone before, but surely that didn't mean he was in love. That would mean too many problems for Beclem and himself.
Then why couldn't he stop thinking about what Beclem said? And why did every last trace of the once powerful desire to kill himself evaporate every time he so much as pictured the other man's face?
"…preparations are going smoothly…" Isaaru caught a snatch of the current conversation. "It should be quite a spectacular event."
"Preparations for what?" Isaaru asked, afraid that his thoughts had once again caused him to miss an incredibly important part of the conversation.
"The ball for Praetor Baralai's return," a woman answered, smiling warmly at Isaaru as she did so. "Remember; I told you we received word that he would be returning to Bevelle yesterday. The ball celebrating his return will be held tomorrow night."
"Are you sure you're content to simply stand aside for him?" Dorian pressed Isaaru.
"I'll be fine," Isaaru told the man.
"The ball celebrating Praetor Baralai's return to power will be held tomorrow night," Isaaru told Beclem later that afternoon. "After that time I will no longer be in power. You are invented to the ball of course; as the resident representative of the Youth League."
"So what are you going to do now that your leadership skills are no longer needed around here?" Beclem asked from where he sat on his bed.
"I'm not really sure to be honest," Isaaru admitted. He frowned, waiting for Beclem to make room on the bed beside him before sitting next to his friend. "I'd like to stay here. I hope I can find something to keep me busy."
"So, you aren't depressed because you're not going to have a purpose anymore?" Beclem asked, raising an eyebrow in curiosity.
"No, surprisingly," Isaaru answered. "I thought I would be, but I'm not. It's strange." Isaaru looked around the room and then frowned again. "What happened to Beclem and Isaaru?" he asked.
"You mean the monkeys? I don't know. I haven't seen them since early this morning. They're probably running around the Palace somewhere."
"All right," Isaaru said, getting to his feet once more. "So, I'll see you there tomorrow night?"
"What are you talking about?" Beclem protested. "You'll see me before then."
"I probably won't actually," Isaaru said, a slightly embarrassed look appearing on his face. "I have a lot of work to get through before Praetor Baralai returns to power. I will be stuck in my office all day."
"Well, I suppose that can't be helped," Beclem admitted. "I'll see you tomorrow night then."
Time always goes slowest when you're waiting for something. Having twenty-four hours between the time you're looking forward to and the present makes for a lot of waiting, and a lot of stretched time. Telling the Youth League about Lord Baralai's return to his position as leader of New Yevon only took half an hour out of Beclem's time, a walk around the Palace and resultant boring and pointless conversation with one of the Bevelle guards only took another forty-three minutes.
When night came sleep evaded Beclem, and when he finally caught it, he was faced with another whole day to fill. Had he really been spending so much time with the ex-Summoner that without Isaaru's company he became completely bored? Apparently so, and he spared a thought for the Praetor, who was undoubtedly trapped behind mountains of paperwork right now, with no escape in sight.
Eventually night fell, and Beclem made his way to the Palace hall, a rather large freestanding building located behind the Palace. He arrived right at the time Isaaru had told him to, and already there were quite a few people in the room.
There was a crowd of people milling around someone in the corner. Beclem glanced over to see if it was Isaaru, but a flash of dark skin and shockingly pale hair told him that this was Baralai, the man who Isaaru would have to step aside for.
A man soon announced Isaaru's entry, and Beclem turned, along with half of the occupants of the hall, to stare at the doorway, where Isaaru stood, radiating in regal beauty.
Isaaru had forsaken his usually brightly coloured robes in favour of a more formal outfit. His robes were a brilliant mixture of black, purple and shining silver, which did everything to accentuate the rich colour of his hair and his naturally fine features. As was the tradition among the Guado and several branches of the Yevonites, Isaaru wore a small amount of makeup; black kohl around his eyes and the tiniest amount of subtle colour on his lips.
For a few seconds, Beclem forgot how to breathe.
Beclem was too far away from the entrance Isaaru had come through to reach him before a small horde of underlings and admirers crowded around him. Beclem hung back for a while, waiting for the crowd to disappear, watching as most of them knelt and kissed Isaaru's hand in a gesture of respect and greeting.
Beclem shivered in anticipation of having to perform what was supposedly such a simple act, but the memory of which would undoubtedly haunt him for days.
The group of people around Isaaru began to thin. Isaaru caught Beclem's eye over the crowd and he began to make his way towards the other man, a smile planted firmly on his face. Beclem returned the smile as Isaaru neared him.
"Beclem," Isaaru nodded, greeting him simply.
"Lord Isaaru," Beclem replied.
He took a deep breath, and kneeled before the other man. He very gently reached out to take Isaaru's hand in his own, and moved it towards his mouth. His lips tenderly brushed the soft skin of Isaaru's hand. A thrill coursed throughout Beclem's body at the simple touch, and he was afraid he let his lips linger on Isaaru's hand for just a little too long for it to be a simple gesture of greeting.
He pulled back slowly, and when he dared to look up at Isaaru's face, the Praetor immediately smiled widely at him. Isaaru's hand tightened around his, and the next thing he knew he had been pulled to his feet.
There was something akin to an electric shock that travelled up Isaaru's arm as soon as Beclem's lips made contact with the back of his hand. It felt both warm and cooling at the same time, and was so strangely exhilarating. Did Beclem's lips linger a little too long on his hand, or was that just wishful thinking on Isaaru's part?
Over twenty other people had already greeted Isaaru through a kiss on the hand, and not one of them had caused such a reaction in him as Beclem had.
Isaaru was snapped back to reality as Beclem's soft lips left his hand. Isaaru couldn't help but smile when he saw Beclem's surprisingly trusting face looking at him questioningly. Isaaru moved his hand around so that it was gripping Beclem's tightly, and pulled the Youth League representative to his feet.
Neither of them could think of anything to say. At least, they couldn't think of anything to say that wouldn't land them both in an incredibly awkward situation.
Whether it was fortunate or not was difficult to tell, but Isaaru was soon swept up by another round of eager Yevonites. Beclem simply waved to him as he was led away to be introduced to friends, delegates and officials.
Isaaru smiled back at him, and only once he had turned back and Beclem could no longer see his face, did he allow himself to let the small gasp he had been holding in.
The night wore on, and eventually Beclem found his way back to Isaaru's side. Luckily a long enough time had passed since the kiss to make the situation a little less awkward.
Entrees had been brought into the hall, music was now being played by a small band that had been hired for the occasion, and quite a few people were now dancing in the centre of the hall. Isaaru was watching a few people turn and twirl elegantly on the dance floor when Beclem sidled up to him.
"Why don't you dance with someone?" Beclem asked the ex-Summoner.
"Because there are spherecasts being sent from here, and the palace has many avid gossipers in its halls," Isaaru answered with a barely hidden chuckle. "If I dance with one person, then everyone will assume that I am courting her. If I dance with two people, then I will have to dance with every admirer I have for the sake of politeness, and I will not be able to do anything else the entire night."
A wicked grin made its way onto Isaaru's face then, and he glanced at Beclem.
"Why don't you dance with anyone?" he said, laughing as he spoke.
"Very funny," Beclem said, trying not to let his frown slip from his face. Isaaru's laughter was quite contagious. "Could you imagine the scandal if I asked someone I actually like to dance?"
"Would you like to dance with me then?" Isaaru asked, still giggling whole-heartedly. "It would be worth it just to see the look on everyone's faces!"
"You've had too much wine to drink, haven't you?" Beclem said, a smile still on his face.
"I haven't had anything to drink at all!" Isaaru protested. "I am just in an extremely good mood tonight."
The two were interrupted when a dark hand found its way on to Isaaru's shoulder.
"Hey Isaaru!" Maroda said, greeting his older brother warmly. His attention soon turned to Beclem. "And who's this? I don't think we've met."
"Moron," Beclem returned.
"Beclem?" Maroda practically yelled as a blush found its way onto his cheeks. "Sorry, I just… I guess I'm not used to seeing you without your mask on."
Beclem frowned and crossed his arms at the younger brother's reaction. Isaaru was still giggling in a way that was incredibly undignified.
"Wow," Maroda continued. "So that's what you look like."
"Lord Isaaru," a calm voice joined in the conversation. Beclem, Isaaru and Maroda turned towards the voice to find they had been joined by none other than the returned Praetor of New Yevon.
"Lord Baralai," Isaaru returned, a giggle or two still in his voice.
Baralai was around the same age as Beclem and Isaaru, but looked almost ten years younger. He was blessed with young-looking features, slightly pouted lips and beautiful eyes. His white blonde hair stood out strongly against his dark skin; the combination of the two of them causing him to look exotic and to many people, quite desirable.
"I know Maroda," Baralai commented, before looking pointedly at Beclem. "But I don't believe I've been introduced to your friend yet."
"Forgive me," Isaaru said, trying to stifle the last of his laughter. "May I introduce Beclem. He was sent here as a representative of the Youth League. Beclem; this is Lord Praetor Baralai, leader of New Yevon."
"My Lord," Beclem said, as he bowed before Baralai and kissed the offered hand. Isaaru found himself mesmerized by the action, as the momentarily forgotten incident between he and the ex-Crusader came back with painful clarity.
He was going to have to do something about this, Isaaru decided. What exactly he could do about it was another matter.
The night went on for many more hours, and Beclem found he was one of the last people to leave, mainly because he waited to head back to the Palace until Isaaru had finished everything and the two could walk back together in peace.
"What are you still doing here?" Isaaru asked Beclem as he practically ran over to him. "I wouldn't have thought that you would have so much interest in this sort of thing, or that you would enjoy it enough to stay this long."
"I was waiting for you," Beclem answered quietly.
"It wasn't that bad was it?" Isaaru asked the other man. "You and Baralai seemed to get along rather well."
Beclem nodded, finding he had to agree with that. Despite the fact that he was an ardent supporter of the Youth League, he had found the leader of New Yevon to be instantly likeable. There was no falseness around Baralai; no assuming, pompous manner, or demand for any more respect than he would be given if he were a normal person, nor was he overly friendly and eager like Maroda.
Baralai was likeable, but he was definitely no Isaaru in Beclem's eyes. The memory of Isaaru's suggestion that they should dance came back to him, and he wistfully gazed out at the dance floor, wishing for a moment that they could.
"Are you all right?" Isaaru asked, noticing the look on Beclem's face.
"I'm fine," Beclem answered. "I was just wishing for the impossible."
Isaaru smiled gently at Beclem, before taking a quick look around them and grabbing Beclem's hand in his own.
He strode quite purposefully to the other side of the room, dragging Beclem along with him, and pressed a panel on the wall which looked completely indistinguishable from the rest of the wall to Beclem's eyes. Sure enough though it opened, sliding up to let the two men outside.
"Where are we going?" Beclem asked.
"It is a secret path back to the palace," Isaaru answered. "It leads back to the chamber that contains the entrance to Via Infinito."
The ex-Summoner completely stopped then, glancing around them for a moment as though to make sure they were alone, before turning around to face his companion and grabbing Beclem's other hand in his own. Isaaru moved the other man's hand to rest on his shoulder, and wrapped his arm around Beclem's waist, pulling him closer.
"What are you doing?" Beclem objected.
"I saw the way you were looking at everyone else on the dance floor," Isaaru said. "You wanted to dance but knew that you could not dance with anyone that you like without causing an absolute scandal, so I am going to dance with you now, here, where no-one can complain about it."
Beclem looked at their surroundings. They were standing in a pathway between the two buildings, no wider than a couple of metres and cobbled in a plain brown rock. The stars and moon could be seen overhead though, and here and there plants had grown through neglect of this area of the palace. It wasn't a dance floor, but it had a certain charm to it.
"But…" Beclem began to object, but Isaaru silenced him with a finger on his lips.
"You cannot get in trouble for this," Isaaru said. "Because I am still normal and all this is, is someone teaching a friend how to dance. All right?"
Beclem nodded, and let Isaaru guide him into the first couple of steps. They moved backwards and forwards, round and round to music that no-one else could hear. Beclem had never learned how to dance before; he could never have been bothered with it since he knew that he would never want to dance with a woman. At first he found the stepping back a little awkward, but after a few moments of Isaaru's gentle guidance it became almost as natural to him as walking or battling.
"And then a dip," Isaaru said as he guided Beclem into the more difficult manoeuvre.
Beclem let out a laugh as he was thrown back, and then was quickly silenced as Isaaru pulled him up to stand close against him once more.
Isaaru smiled and let his arm fall from around Beclem's waist.
"That is the first time I have ever heard you laugh," he commented. "Not snigger, but genuinely laugh. You should do it more often. It suits you."
Beclem couldn't help but smile back at Isaaru.
The ex-Summoner sighed and rubbed the back of his head sheepishly, before gesturing to the other wall.
Beclem nodded to the unasked question and walked beside Isaaru. The door was pushed open and the two found themselves, as predicted, in the entrance to Via Infinito.
There was an unexpectedly stale scent in the air inside the chamber, and Beclem grimaced. Isaaru closed the door behind them both, and Beclem began to frown as he spotted the source of the horrible smell only a few metres away from the two men.
"What is it?" Isaaru asked as soon as he noticed the look on Beclem's face.
Beclem took a couple of very slow and cautious steps towards a corner of the chamber, the look of distress on his face growing as he moved closer to the object of his focus. Isaaru's eyes followed the other man's path, and centred on the dark shadows in the corner.
Wait… That wasn't only shadow. Some of it was blood, and there, in the corner, slashed open by something sharp, like a sword or more frighteningly accurate, by a set of long and deadly claws, lay the answer to more than one of Isaaru's questions over the past couple of days.
"That's not…" Isaaru gasped. "It can't be."
Beclem knelt down and leaned just a little closer to the two damaged and furry bodies. "It is," he answered. "Beclem and Isaaru."
"I'm sorry," Isaaru said, finding his warm mood of before had completely disappeared. "I mean, I don't like monkeys at all, but they certainly didn't deserve this."
He walked over and placed a hand on Beclem's shoulder in comfort. "I know you were attached to them. I'll have someone clean them up, and we will bury them tomorrow if you like."
Beclem wasn't paying much attention to Isaaru though. Rather, his focus was still on the animals' dead bodies.
"What do you think did this?" he asked Isaaru. He was trying to act strong, but Isaaru could hear the slight breaking in voice as fear crept in. "It looks like claws."
"It may have been a fiend," Isaaru admitted, his hand tightening its grip on Beclem's shoulder. "Just remember Beclem; many fiends have claws, not only one."
Beclem nodded and left the monkeys lying in the corner of the room together. Isaaru ushered him out of the room in an effort to get rid of the cold chill that had gripped them both. Beclem spared one last look back in the direction of the entrance to Via Infinito as they left the room, and shivered.