Author's note: Hi all, I'm back. I apologise for the long wait, but at the moment I am incredibly busy with all sorts of work. Rest assured though, for I will not abandon this story, however long it may take. That said, I do hope the quality of it does not decrease; if you feel that it does in fact, do please tell me, and I will give myself a kick in the pants to try harder and harder for the next chapters that I write. Thank you, those who have added me to their watch list, those who faved, those who review, and those who read this story. Finally, I present to you, mostly ladies (and gentlemen):

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Chapter 8: Home is where the heart is

An innocuous movement caught Dégel's eyes. It was the lightest of fluttering of the eyelashes, but in the blurring twilight, it was as a ray of light illuminating Dégel's dark depression. He leaned over the lying man, ignoring the unpleasant creaking of his bones from hours of not moving. The windows creaked open ever so slightly, and from somewhere he knew not whence, a spectrum of colours entered, painting the pristine white wall the colour of rainbow. In those flickering dots of light, Dégel could see clearly the trembling of thick lashes, before strong brows furrowed and brilliant blue eyes snapped open. For the briefest of moments, they stared at each other, one hovering above the other, whose eyes were wild yet dead focused on the face before him at the same time. Kardia blinked once, twice, before sighing and reaching up to tuck a strand of teal hair behind Dégel's ear.

'What's wrong? You look like you're about to cry.'

His words were hoarse, breathy like the words of a dying man – which notion brought a terrible wrath into Dégel's mind, but which he brushed aside for the moment – yet the warmth permeated through each of them, slipping in to ease the storm in his mind.

'I do not cry.'

His words were cold, his eyes dry. Yet, imperceptibly, at the very end of his declaration, he could feel his throat clogging up and his voice wavering. He could feel very well that he was starting to breathe heavily, and that his shoulders were starting to shake. The weight of worry that had been taken away from him was too sudden for him to become accustomed to, and despite the relief from burden, Dégel had felt like collapsing into a quivering mass on top of that sick man, to hear his heart still beating and his chest rise and fall as he breathed.

'Of course you don't.'

It was a flat statement, neither sarcastic nor sympathetic, and almost cold in its finality. And yet, there was a hand coming up to the back of his head, pulling him down to rest on top of his lover, exactly as he wished he could have lay down himself, to put his head in the crook of a bronzed neck and feel his eyes sting yet remaining dry all the same, and to let that very same hand pet him slowly, languorously, as if Kardia was trying to calm down a frightened child in the dead of a thunderstorm. Despite the tremors raging through his body, and the thousands of words Dégel wanted to scold Kardia with, he was calming down. It was awkward to support his entire body weight on his head and his forearms on both sides of Kardia alone, but it was comfortable, and for however long that his moment of weakness lasted, it felt secure to have his hair petted and to hear even breathing next to his ear, to know that not yet, not today.

When Dégel had regained his composure at last, he lifted his head to look at Kardia, not even bothering to hide his embarrassment. There was his signature smirk firmly in place upon his countenance, and Kardia seemed almost happy, his eyes twinkling in mischief.

'Well, what happened?'

'What happened is that you saved the children and nearly died.'

'Someone has to save them. You cannot expect to stand by and watch…'

'No I cannot. But nonetheless it frightened me.'

They both fell silent at that. The smirk fell from Kardia's face, its place taken by down turned lips and sad, sad eyes. He cupped Dégel's face with a hand, the burns chaffing against velvety skin, but neither took notice of it. Kardia slowly sat up, all the while bringing his forehead to cling to Dégel's, their bangs mixing and their breath mingling. They stayed still like that for a long while in the pregnant silence, simply feeling the sorrow permeating their relationship, as if wallowing in that shared misfortune. The lights were no longer dancing, and it became dark, and senses became stronger, the touch of a lingering lock of hair, a thumb smoothing over dry eyelashes, breath that smelled like blood and the sun at the same time.

'All men die.' At long last, in a whisper no louder than a sigh of the wind, the words were dropped into the pool of dead silence. Lips trembled, and a hand felt its way into long, cascading locks of hair, roaming over broad shoulders and tensed back.

'I know.' There was hesitation, but the young man swallowed once, twice, before continuing with steel in his voice, 'I know. So let us speak no more of it. There is something else I would like to ask you now.'

'Yes?'

'Sig. Feliciano came back from Austria to visit you earlier today…'

'That rascal Manigoldo?'

'The very same. But stay, speak to him later. I would like to ask something of you first.'

'Anything, my dear Dégel.'

Dégel worried his lips, before running his hands over sharp cheek bones, holding their owner's face in place.

'He told me that you served in Vatican as a Pontifical Guard. He also told me that you loved your hometown very much, that place where you lived before coming to this town. Why, then, did you not return to your home, but here, of all places, after your discharge?'

Their eyes slowly became adjusted to the surrounding darkness, and through it, Dégel finally saw the brief flash of Kardia's blue eyes, before he lowered them, avoiding Dégel's inquiring look. Pulling away, the man let his hand slide down Dégel's cheek, landing softly onto his lap with a soft thud that echoed in the quiet of the room.

'Ah, that,' Came his voice at last, strong and with practiced nonchalance, 'So the bastard delights in the gossips like women do when they have nothing on their hand. Do remind me to welcome him home with a lot of brotherly love later on. But if you, Dégel, want to know of that matter, I can tell you with honesty, though you may not, after all, want to know.'

'Is it something you would rather I not know?'

'To tell the truth, no, but it may or may not have a connection with our current relationship, depending on how you look at it. But very well, I will tell you this, that home is where the heart is, and this little town, not that old town in the middle of nowhere in Greece, where the clergy tortured my father to death and burnt my mother at stake for being an accused witch, where the nobles took our land and the envious neighbours spoke of my family as if we were a curse on them, holds my heart.'

At first, Dégel was speechless to hear the pure hatred in Kardia's voice. Then, it became anger, followed by an endless sadness that broke his voice as he replied: 'I am sorry to hear.'

Eyes glinting like those of a predator darted up to observe him, before the vague lines of a smile could be made out in the dark. The hand lying upon Kardia's lap lifted to draw him close, and the man kissed him once, tenderly, letting him feel the smile on his lips.

'I know you are. But that is not all there is to your question. Speak no more of it, and I shall continue with the story you wanted to hear.' He paused, and with a little shuffling, drew Dégel to rest on the headboard more comfortably. He pulled Dégel to rest his head on his shoulder, and resumed the mindless petting he had started before, as though the simple gesture, too, was calming him. 'A long time ago, there was a boy who became an orphan. The house at the hill top, with the lines of green, green poplars leading in, surrounded by golden wheat fields that stretched till the horizons, one that he used to live in, was burnt down. And so he fled. He did everything he could to live, fighting, running errands, stealing, all kinds of things, until one day, when he was taken in by a travelling priest, who was boring as all old men were but who was kind to children like him. He was taken to a new town, far away from his country, and started living in an orphanage at the back of a church.

'The boy, when he was young, liked exploring very much. He knew every street in town as the back of his hand, the alleyways, the rooftops, even the ways through people's houses into and out of courtyards. It soon became boring for him, so one day, he went out of the centre of the town in search of novelty, and found a small woods. It delighted the boy very much, and he started going there every day, after he had finished his chores. He then discovered that the woods led to an estate of a noble family, and that the woods belonged to that family. Well, the boy was stubborn, or as a certain someone in his orphanage liked to say, pig-headed. He wished to defy the rules, to laugh in the face of the danger of being caught, and to enjoy breaking laws laid down by the nobles – believe me, the boy has not changed very much since then in that respect. And so, he continued frequenting the woods, until it, too, became as familiar to him as the yard of his orphanage.

'And here the story starts, you see, for not long after that, the boy encountered something special in the woods that changed his life forever. It was a very beautiful afternoon, and the boy had just finished running an errand for the father. He felt like he deserved a good siesta, and went to the woods to find his favourite tree for his nap. While he was happily threading his way through bushes, he saw movements not far away. But even as he was looking for a nearby bush to hide in, he realised that the one making the movement was neither a servant nor an animal, but a boy not unlike him with his foot stuck in tree roots like a rabbit in a trap. And so the boy approached the other, who was trying to pry himself free in vain.

'"Hallo," the boy said, and the other was started, looking up from where he was with eyes big and watery, but the tears were stubbornly kept from falling, "And what have we here? A noble who is stuck in his own back garden who can't get himself free?" For the other boy was a noble.

'"And who are you? You are not authorised to be here, so that makes you a trespasser!" The other boy bit back, and oh, he was a fierce little thing, glaring at the boy with eyes cold as ice, despite having to look up from his position on the ground. But the boy enjoyed the challenged very much, so he crouched down next to the young master, near enough to tease, but not enough to touch.

'"Yes, that would make me a trespasser. But young master, if you cannot free yourself from that, who are you going to tell, eh? When do you think your servants will start looking for you? It's going to hurt, you know, and then maybe you won't be able to walk again by the looks of that."

'"Well, if that is so, so be it. What care do you have whether I walk again or not? What business do you have in our woods?" Said the other boy. He was still trying to pull his foot free even as he said all that, and that must have touched the wound the wrong way, for he suddenly bit his lip very hard, but his expression remained the same, the boy almost thought the other could not move his facial muscles. Anyhow, the noble's prevalence touched the boy's heart, for he had always respected the manly way of doing things, and refusing to succumb to pain was a very manly thing to do. It was thus that he decided that he would help the noble, despite the risks to himself. He told the other boy to be silent, before pulling him free with all his might. It must have hurt a lot, because he had a broken ankle. His face scrunched up in pain, but he refused to even utter a sound, you see.

'"If it hurts so much, why don't you cry or even frown? I don't like wusses who complain about every pinprick, but believe you me I know what it's like to have a broken bone before; wouldn't blame you if you show it." The boy did not like the way he was addressed, but curiosity won over when he saw the lack of expression in the noble boy. However, he got no answer, and when it was clear that he was not going to get any anytime soon, he decided to be the better man and offered the noble his back. The little lord was sceptical at first; he looked at the boy with mistrustful eyes. But the look was ignored, and after a little while, without knowing what made the little lord changed his opinion, the boy felt arms finding their way to circle his neck. It was total silence on their way back to the mansion, yet at last when the boy was busy wondering about the little noble who did not show his expressions, he finally spoke: "If… you do not show pain, then you can control yourself not to feel pain either. And not just physical pain, but all kinds of pain there is."

'It was a ridiculous notion, and so the boy laughed. "You feel what you feel, boy; if you don't, you're either a priest or you're dead." It earned him an irritated huff and a smack on the head, but the boy kept laughing. He was interested in this strange noble, for he had never met anyone before with fanatical thoughts like that. How grand, he thought, would it be to make this boy who did not want to feel start to have emotions of his own. Did the servants of his household try to achieve that? Did the nobles in the neighbourhood try to make that boy laugh with their money and jewelry and fail miserably? But it would be grand to see a change in the little stoic lord's expression.

'When they were near the other end of the woods, which led to the plain ground between the woods and the mansion, the boy had no choice but to put the little noble down. He could not risk going further than that, and so they had to part. "Say, will you come back here?" Suddenly, the noble boy asked. His facial muscles were very carefully kept from changing, but the boy noticed a hopeful gleam in those eyes anyway, and it pleased him greatly. But then he had to answer: "Can't say that I will; trespassing is a crime anyway", because he was a sadist from birth. And then he left.'

'And then you left.'

Dégel could feel something sliding down his cheeks, wetting the collar of his shirt in warm trickles. He could very well recall that sunny afternoon, when the birds were singing and the light dancing. He had taken a stroll in the woods after a particularly intensive lesson in Latin, and fallen and gotten his foot stuck in the roots of an old tree, had met, been teased and freed by a strange boy who had mud smearing his face but light in his eyes as he had never seen before. Even then he could not understand what made him trust the stranger to help him, but he did. Perhaps it was because of the overflowing life forcing its way from every pore in that boy, or perhaps it was because of the insolence in a free being who dared to defy everything in the world. People want what they don't have, and that strange boy was everything Dégel had dreamt of coming into his life; that might perhaps explain why he had so trustingly climbed onto a stranger's back. And then, after that abrupt parting, Dégel had been found by a servant not long after that. He had not been able to come out to the woods for the following month or two, and had thought that in all likelihood he was not going to see that strange boy with midnight-coloured hair and eyes that lit up the shade of the sky anymore, the prospect of which made him sad with an inexplicable intensity that almost rent his heart, so when he did come out and did see that boy sleeping on a tree, it was as if he had been granted a gift from the heavens. He could remember the following months, which passed swiftly as the wings of a swallow, filled with the laughter he had thought forgotten, the swaying shades of the trees, the blue sky, and eyes even bluer than that. They had run through the small woods, playing lord and knight, and hide and seek, and all the games that had been absent in his cold, steely childhood till the end of the day, when the strange boy had to return to the town and he to his lonely room. They had never learnt the name of each other, as if it was an unspeakable taboo between them, nor did Dégel say anything to anyone, afraid that if he did, the boy would vanish from his life; it was his little secret, one tucked away in a corner of his mind, but which was closer and warmer even than the time spent with his brother, which he held dear to his heart. Never could Dégel imagine Kardia would be that strange boy who had shared his childhood and brought life to it, which accordingly faded away the moment that boy did; yet, when he thought about it, Kardia seemed not to have changed with the years at all, even if the innocence of their relationship had turned into something else completely different. Perhaps that was why the man had caught his eyes on that first occasion, when all he did was stand amongst the flowers and let his brilliance outshine them all.

'Why did you not tell me?'

'Tell you what, Dégel?'

'When you left for Vatican. Why not? Was it because you did not deem me important enough for you to tell when you were leaving?'

This time, too, he could not even bother to hide the hurt in his voice. For a whole month that lasted for a hundred years, every day every day he came to the woods, but Kardia was not there. Then for the next eleven months that lasted for an eternity, Dégel came and went back, but that strange boy who had been his only companion never returned. The fury for betrayal that had threatened to burn his heart to ashes could only hold out for so long, before it dulled into a throbbing pain, that which he buried away in the deepest recess of his mind, along with a child's sorrows. As with everything that affected him, it never disappeared, like a wound that would scar forever – this time, in the form of congealed ice. And so he lost hope, and closed himself off from the world, until so many years after, the day he had seen another strange man in that little flower shop. And it had hurt, despite how he had been telling himself every day that he would not let the pain get to him, that he would not feel any more for anyone. Oh, but he did, and he opened his heart to a stranger who disappeared from his life, only then to realise that that stranger was now his lover, whose hand was wiping away the tears he did not even know were falling. At that single moment, a thousand feelings were rushing through him; none were clear nor defined, but there was anger, sorrow, delight, relief, and all the emotions that anyone could ever hope to feel, all mixed into a force so strong that the overflowing tears could not be stopped, as a dam that had been broken.

'I… did not want you to be sad. The chances of me returning were almost nil, so better you hate me for the rest of your life than tell you and make you wait forever for me, for I knew even then that you would.' Kardia paused, swallowed, then added in a whisper no louder than a contented sigh, 'When I was discharged, the only thing I could think of was to come back here. I thought I could sneak into your family's woods and see if you would come, but the years have flown and the barrier between us was that heavy. I did not want to see you change, to become one of those petty nobles; I loved the pure heart you possessed in my memories too much to risk being disappointed then, or as they like to say, having my heart broken. That was why I stayed in the shop, and coming to the woods every single day at dusk only, to see if you would take a stroll like you did when you were small, but merely to look at you from afar; I had no intention to come talk to you or renew our acquaintances. And then when you came to the café across; do you remember that day? I could not but think it was a gift from God to me, or perhaps not, for you are the apple, and your sweet purity is the serpent that tempted me. It was a miracle, the way you sat with your eyes lowered, the sun crowning you with a halo and the wind playing with your hair, exactly as I remembered you then, when you were small and your eyes clear. That was why I came and began our "first meeting", as you have been led to believe, and which you might have been better off still believing.'

His tears had dried, just as water freezing at the caress of winter, but inside, where his tears were absorbed into softness, it was warm as the summer day so many years before, when their innocent laughter echoed through the woods and they were the only ones that mattered in the world. Through the thick darkness separating them, he could see blue eyes intently on him, as if Kardia was afraid of his reaction. He recalled the words that have been promised him before: '…for I have longed for you for much longer than you have ever been aware…' He did not understand them then, for how could he, but now he did, and it brought both pain and joy to his heart, that which threatened to break it, judging from how weak it left him feeling, as with everything in their relationship. To finally understand the depth to which they both have sunken, bound together since what felt like forever by an invisible yet unbreakable thread, was to hurt, to feel light, to want to live and die at the same time, and to let the ice melt and at the same time willing time to congeal into ice. 'I'm sorry I forgot you why didn't you mention this before when we have gotten together how lucky can a man be to deserve your heart God why not take me and leave him be how can I feel without my heart anymore' A million thoughts flew by, yet in the end, only one remained in his then feeble grasp on reality.

Reaching up to hold Kardia's face in his hands, Dégel stared deep into his lover's eyes, willing himself to drown in them, and Kardia in him. With everything that he had, Dégel responded to the promise made him with a love so deep he could never fully understand, but realised was his to hold for an eternity: 'For you have longed for me for much longer than I have ever been aware, I too, shall for the rest of this life long for you, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better or for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish…'

'Until death do us part.'

'Until death reunites us again.' He did not wait for the protest from Kardia that he knew was coming, but instead leaned in to seal the vow the way they all did, as lovers did when they purported to bind themselves to each other. Lips touched, then parted, then touched again, lingering, before they closed the final distance, losing themselves in the kiss where teeth clashed and tongues fought for dominance, where passion and tenderness fused together, so that the rhythm slowed into Lethe on which they became drunk in the ancient ritual for bonding. Within the scarce proximity, their heartbeat melted into a single staccato, the underlying beat to their nameless dance not unlike flamenco in its ardour, yet resembling a pas de deux in unity, with one falling in blind trust and the other catching with everything he had. Hands passed into a fall of hair, pressing against a broad chest, caressing a fine cheekbone, clinging onto one's shirt as a desperate man his lifeline, before they found each other and joined together, fitting the gaps between each finger with the other's. And the great vacuum was filled.

As they parted as last, as if awakening from a long dream filled to the brim with music and sunlight, Dégel pressed a single finger to Kardia's lips, before rising to place a chaste kiss upon his forehead as the first kiss of the snow.

'And I shall hear no more of this.'

His hand was caught, trembling fingers pressed against words sighed into the silence: 'And you shall hear no more of this, that I vow.'

The breath held within his throat was exhaled in relief. Dégel could feel a burden lifted from his chest, and suddenly it became easier to breathe and to move. His mood lifted even as he stood from the bed with renewed vigour.

'All very well. Shall I go and tell the children that they may come see you, and Sig. Feliciano that you have a message of overdue brotherly love to deliver?'

That brought a chuckle out of Kardia. With a rustle, he, too, rolled off the bed to stand up beside Dégel. Head cocking to the side, he leaned into the first ray of pale moonlight that penetrated the dull windows, showing his trademark grin to a stunned Dégel.

'You have the best experience in how healthy I am. I shall reassure them myself. Only, will you come here tomorrow at dusk?'

'What for, Kardia?'

'For what we have missed tonight, though you seem too laden with thoughts to notice. There will be a locked door involved; I can assure you of that.'

Even in the dark, Dégel was painfully aware of the heat creeping up his cheeks, which must have been resembling the sun in the colour's intensity. Lightly pushing the man out of the way, and ignoring the full-blown laughter he received, Dégel opened the door to rush out into the chill of the night, welcoming the cold on his burning cheeks, feeling very much like a bashful damsel looking forward to the next rendezvous with her lover for their great runaway.

He stopped in his track when the sounds of running footsteps invaded the space. From the dimly lit corridor leading to the outer courtyard, he could vaguely make out the shadow of a man, followed by a woman with billowing hair.

'Young master Dégel!' The man presently charging through the constricted space was the son of the household's butler.

'Calm yourself.' The cold in his voice returned as naturally as the stern expression he liked to wear, but somewhere, he could sense a foreboding sense of dread at the sight of wild eyes and the ominous silhouette thrown upon the young man's countenance. 'What news do you bring?'

'The master, he… he had a stroke, young master.'

In that instant, all that Dégel could hear was the sound of faraway thunder which was nowhere near his suddenly spinning field of vision. He did not even know whether in fact he had staggered back, whether in fact there was a hand on his back steadying him, or whether in fact said hand had pushed him towards the general direction of the young man. All he remembered, was the absent-minded 'Forgive me, Kardia, for I must go', before his memories drew up the blank that was his journey home.