Chapter 2: Depths

Malik felt empty.

He still had the pressure of his unreleased climax in his gut, but that was a minor discomfort. The pressure in his chest was far worse.

He watched as Richard slowly climbed out of the bed, walking across the room with his gaze on the floor. His arms were pressed against his torso, and his posture slouched. He barely looked like the regal king that could captivate every pair of eyes in a room. Seeing Richard slouch made for a shocking sight.

The cowering blond man - it was hard to think of him as a king in that situation - took his clothing and his boots and disappeared into the bathroom. Malik heard the sound of water within, and concluded he was cleaning himself. It was understandable. He had just lain with a filthy man.

Being already fully dressed, all Malik had to do was button his pants. They did not feel tight anymore. Richard's cry when he climaxed took care of that.

He waited on the edge of the bed for Richard to come out. Malik convinced himself that nothing would happen, but deep down, he hoped Richard would at least talk to him. Even if it was just a single word. He just wanted to hear his voice, saying something other than Asbel's name.

The bathroom door opened, and Richard stepped out. In the tight-fitted attire, he did not slouch anymore, but his eyes were still downcast. His gloved fingers fidgeted, and he opened his mouth, but closed it before any sound came out. Then, he shuffled out of the room, without as much as glancing at Malik.

Despite the luxurious bed, Malik had a sleepless night. Whenever he closed his eyes, his time with Richard would play repeatedly in his head, and guilt kept him awake. He greeted the sun with sullen eyes; it was in resentment that he dressed, packed, and left his room.

But he had somewhere to stop by before he hit the road.

Malik made for Richard's quarters. However, before he could knock on the king's door, a servant intercepted him.

"Are you looking for His Highness, Ambassador Malik?"

"I am. Is he not in his room?"

"His Highness is in the study, working. I'm afraid he's too busy to see anyone."

Malik frowned. "This early? Are you sure? If you could announce my-"

"His Highness gave me specific orders not to disturb him. He wishes to be left alone." His voice was dry. "Now, you should head to your carriage, Ambassador. The journey to Fendel is a long one." Without another word, he turned and left.

Defeated, Malik did as he was told. The sun shone as he left the castle, but he could swear the day was dark.

And, for the following weeks, dark they remained. Guilt loomed in thoughts and dreams, troubling his sleep and his work. Until, finally, he received the order he was waiting for: a diplomatic visit to Barona.

The trip felt stressing and tedious, despite the fact Malik was more than used to traveling. When he finally stepped out of the ship in Port Barona, he almost broke into a run towards the castle. However, he knew Richard was unlikely to see him before the appointed hour, so there was no point in rushing.

Time seemed to drag as he settled in the guestroom at the castle. He waited, trying to keep himself from glancing at the clock too often. After a while, he headed to the conference room early; it could help quench his anxiety, and arriving before the king was always polite.

As he expected, Richard made his entrance with flawless punctuality.

And he looked... regal. Controlled. Decisive. In other words, he seemed just like himself. Malik breathed a sigh of relief; Richard must have been able to overcome his heartbreak, and judging from the carefree way he was acting, he opted to ignore their awkward night together. Well, it was probably for the best. Discussing it would make for a quite uncomfortable situation.

Still... there was something strange about him. Something... off. While his eyes did not hesitate to meet Malik's anymore, they seemed distant when they did so. In addition, Richard would occasionally trail off, or ask a council member to repeat himself. Being distracted during a meeting - or being distracted at all - was awfully unlike him.

And he looked tired. It was true that Richard tended to overwork himself, but he always had an aura of relentless dedication about him, and even when his eyes were surrounded by dark circles, they were sharp and attentive. Today, his skin was clear, but his gaze was that of an exhausted man. His eyes were dull and resigned.

Malik tried to brush it off as his imagination, but found himself worrying about Richard. And yet, what could he do? His last attempt at comforting him had been disastrous, at best. He wouldn't be surprised if Richard wanted to avoid being alone with him from now on.

Malik focused on the rest of the meeting. When it was over, he went straight to his chamber.

Dinner was served in a small dining room, where Malik ate alone. The rich food was bland in his mouth, and he couldn't bring himself to eat much before he returned to his quarters. He had been working on his report to Chancellor Eigen when there was very soft knocking on his door. Grumbling, he stood and opened it.

It was Richard.

Malik was frozen for a moment, staring wide-eyed at the king. Then, he finally remembered his manners, and stammered, "Y-Your Highness, please come in."

Richard stepped into the room, and Malik closed the door behind him. The king smelled faintly of alcohol, and when Malik paid attention, he realized his lips were tinted red. Wine.

Malik had to keep himself from frowning in concern before saying, "Your Highness... how have you been?"

"I'm fine," Richard replied coldly. His eyes were locked on the floor, or on the walls, or...

"...Have you talked to Asbel?"

Malik's words left his lips before he could hold them back. Richard winced as if he had been struck by a blow, and he turned on his heels, making for the door.

Malik shuffled behind him, "Your Highness, I'm sorry, I..."

"I did not come here to chat," Richard interrupted with a broken voice, "If that is what you want, I will leave-"

His words faded as Malik grasped his shoulders and pinned him against the door, pressing a forceful kiss to his lips. Richard did not react, remaining still and unresponsive as Malik's mouth furiously moved against his. When Malik tried to slip his tongue inside, Richard immediately pushed him away.

"I... I told you, Malik... Not this," he muttered, wiping his lips with the back of his hand.

"I-I'm sorry. I wasn't thinking." He watched as Richard walked past him, stopping with his back towards him. "Forgive me, Your Highness. It won't happen again, I prom-"

He realized Richard was removing his gloves.

Malik took hesitant steps towards him. He was now undoing his cravat. Malik gently placed his hands over his shoulders, but Richard pushed them aside.

"I do not need your help," he said, not turning to him.

Richard removed his coat, then began unbuttoning his vest. Malik debated what he should do for a moment, and settled on stripping as well. He carelessly dropped his clothing on the floor while Richard arranged his royal attire neatly on the couch. When the king was finally done, Malik had already been waiting for a while.

Richard glanced at Malik and quickly looked away from his naked figure. Malik felt self-conscious for a moment, knowing that watching Richard strip so slowly had made him hard. But Richard still went ahead and silently climbed on the bed, giving Malik enough confidence to go settle beside him.

They sat cross-legged over the sheets. Richard faced away from Malik, hands fidgeting nervously. Malik waited for a moment, hoping Richard would turn; once it was clear he would not, Malik moved closer to sit directly behind him. He slipped his right hand around Richard's waist, closing his fingers on his soft member and rubbing it lightly. With his left hand, he brushed golden hair away from his neck to plant kisses over his pale skin, while his hand moved on to tease one of his nipples. Malik worked slowly to arouse him, and with time he felt Richard grow hard in his hand. Enjoying the contact, he did not stop, letting his hand move along Richard's chest and stomach, then on to his thigh-

"...Th-That's enough, Malik," he mumbled, pulling away from him.

Disappointed, Malik watched as Richard shuffled on the bed, positioning himself... to lie on his front. Malik frowned; Richard didn't even want to face him. How foolish Malik was to believe he had a chance into his heart...

Defeated, Malik took the gel base. "It might be best if you raise your hips, Your Highness. Support your weight on your elbows and knees."

Richard remained still for a moment, then hesitantly did as he was told. Malik began preparing him, and when the first finger slipped inside, Richard lowered his upper body to bury his face in his pillow. Since his hips remained raised, Malik ignored it and went on with his work. Once he was done, he rose to stand on his knees and coated himself. Then, holding Richard's hips, he positioned his arousal on his entrance and slowly pushed inside.

He waited less than the previous time before he began thrusting, and his rhythm increased at a faster pace. Even so, with the way Richard pressed his face against the pillow, he couldn't hear a sound from him.

...At least Malik wouldn't have to hear him screaming another man's name.

Feeling his finish draw close, Malik leaned down and gave Richard's arousal long strokes. This time, Malik didn't hold back, and he came first, riding out his climax inside Richard as he rubbed him faster. He heard a muffled moan and felt his hand grow wet with warm liquid, cuing him to slow down to a stop.

Malik was still panting when Richard moved away from him, making his softening member slide out of his warm body to feel the uncomfortably cold air. Again, he watched as Richard immediately crawled out of the bed and took his clothing to the bathroom. His steps were unsteady under his still trembling legs.

For a while, Malik stared at the closed bathroom door, as if in a trance. The sound of water within brought him to reality, and he realized he had to dress himself. He was shuffling out of the bed when he caught something in the corner of his eye. Something in Richard's pillow.

Taking a closer look, he saw it was wet with tears.

All the guilt he had felt before returned to him. How could he forget how broken Richard was? How could he take advantage of him again? It was true Richard had been the one to approach him this time, but that did not mean he had been feeling any better. In truth, it probably meant the opposite. How desperate must he have been to come to Malik for this?

This time, Malik wouldn't let him leave. Not like this. He would talk to him, try to understand his pain, help him overcome it. Show him that his actions were only furthering his misery. Malik knew well how drowning in self-pity felt, and he could use his experience to comfort Richard - with his words rather than his body.

He jumped out of bed and dressed quickly. Then, he waited patiently for Richard to come out. This time, he was determined to do the right thing, no matter what it took.

Richard emerged with sunken eyes. His gaze avoided Malik, as usual - and, as before, he did not speak a word. His steps seemed hurried, and yet he moved slowly under his exhausted body; moved to leave without a word.

But this time, Malik would stop him.

"Your Highness, wait..."

Richard did not turn. Instead, he hastened his pace towards the door.

"Please, Your Highness..."

Richard's hand was on the doorknob. He ignored the voice that pleaded to him.

Malik realized Richard wouldn't listen, not unless he forced him. If he took a step forward and held one of his arms, screamed at him at the top of his lungs, showed him how wrong he was...

Asbel would do it all in a heartbeat. He wouldn't care that Richard was his king; before anything, they were friends. Asbel would ignore any formality, overcome any barrier, if it meant helping Richard.

But Malik wasn't Asbel. He couldn't do it.

The door closed in front of him, and Richard was gone.

Richard walked as fast as his weak legs could carry him. He felt it creeping upon him; it always did at night. It used to arrive later, when he was attempting to sleep, but what he had just done must have triggered an early arrival. Guilt ushered it to come sooner.

He felt the familiar pressure in his chest, as if invisible hands were reaching inside him to twist his lungs. They rose to his throat, tried to choke him. They covered his eyes and made his vision blurry. They fiddled with his ears and created sounds, dark whispers of the feelings he was trying to suppress.

Finally, he reached his room. As soon as he closed the door behind him, he allowed it to overtake him.

Richard wept.

Muffled, broken sobs resounded in the quietness of his room. He leaned against the door, feeling his legs give under his weight. Slowly, he slid to the floor, sitting with his head against his knees. His chest trembled as tears fell.

It had become a ritual Richard unwillingly performed every night. He had tried to endure at first, holding back as much as he could, but every time he would break before long. Eventually, he gave up and let it take over him.

And, whenever it happened, Richard felt pathetic. He always knew there was no chance Asbel would return his feelings, so why should his engagement bring him so much pain? Was it because Richard was a selfish man who couldn't stand seeing his loved one with someone else? Before, he had convinced himself that seeing Asbel happy was all that mattered, going as far as persuading him to propose. But it turned out Richard was even more deplorable than he thought; now that the deed was done, he was rotting with jealousy, bitter over the fact that he wasn't the one making Asbel happy.

Or maybe he was scared. Afraid of the chance that Asbel would no longer have time for him. Terrified of the fact that, while Asbel was the world to him, someone else was his world. Even though he knew he was undeserving of Asbel's love...

Richard bit his lip, feeling his shaking intensify. It was always the same cycle of bitter thoughts, the same self-hatred, and the same knowledge that, with each passing day, he only thought more and more about Asbel. And, if that wasn't enough, today he used Malik's feelings again. He had tried his hardest to resist, but the emptiness in his chest had been overwhelming, and before he knew it, he was knocking on his door. And then it all only spiraled further downward. Did he have to spread his misery to others, too?

His sobbing started to grow too strong for him to think, and his mind fell into a simple pattern of guilt and longing. For a while, he remained like this, until his chest was too tired to produce another sound. His crying died down, and left him with a crushing sensation of nothingness. When tears stopped falling, it was the time he felt most lonely.

Richard realized his back hurt from shaking against the hard wooden door. He struggled to stand, his legs feeling even weaker than they did before. Not bothering to change out of his clothing or even remove his boots, he staggered to his bed and dropped over it. He knew sleep wouldn't come any time soon, but he was tired.

Too tired.

In the following morning, Malik left without bothering to speak with Richard. He knew what his attendant would say if he tried to request an audience with him.

He felt guilty, but his guilt was overpowered by a deep feeling of resignation; he had realized he couldn't help Richard. Being powerless left him with a bitter taste in his mouth. Was hoping for Richard to recover really all he could do?

Malik had to work hard to push his apprehension away from his mind for the following days. Unfortunately, the new trade agreement between Windor and Fendel would require him to meet constantly with Richard, and he had a number of trips to Barona scheduled in the months to come. The idea of facing Richard again was unsettling, and the chance of Richard knocking on his door at night was terrifying.

Terrifying, for Malik knew he wouldn't be able to resist him. And, worst of all, he wouldn't be able to keep him from leaving without a word.

The next meeting arrived, followed by another night of knocking on his door. It was carried out in the same way as before, the only difference being that Richard seemed even more miserable. And every one of their following meetings had the same outcome. Each and every time, Richard seemed to have sunk deeper into his grief.

Malik grew afraid. Afraid that Richard would never be the same, afraid that he would never go back to who he was. Richard had dug himself into a hole that was growing too deep for him to escape, and eventually, it could only cave in. Then, what would Richard do? How far could he go when driven by pain?

The answer to that question terrorized Malik. His good intentions would be useless if Richard brought something upon himself that could not be undone. But, at the same time, Malik was helpless. Richard would never listen to him. And even if he did, what comfort could someone like Malik provide when Richard was so ruined? What comfort could anyone provide?

Yes. Malik was sure no one would be able to mend Richard now.

No one... but Asbel.