The Chimera
We're getting somewhere! Thanks for bearing with me!
Three: The New Guard
They looted the Volturi camp, took all they could carry, and trashed the rest. The bodies were burned in a bonfire that smoked for a day and more. The smell of it spoiled Edward's appetite for meat indefinitely. Emmett had the men set the charred skulls upon stakes hammered into the bald hill. He says it will serve as a warning. Edward thinks they'll become a feast for the crows.
The soldiers bound Caius to a tree, content with letting him shout himself hoarse. As for Jasper, the very sight makes the men nervous, so they shut him back in his cage. Edward was planning to remedy that when Emmett corners him, unhappy about the berserker presence.
"The Chimera is the symbol of our enemy's strength," Emmett growls. "We should kill him and be done with it."
"He is a man," Edward counters, "and his life is worth more than that."
Emmett takes his frustration out on a tent nearby, striking at the poles with his broadsword, collapsing it. Edward rolls his eyes, unimpressed. He glances over at the cloth-covered cage. "Was he given lunch today?"
"No, brother, we didn't feed the berserker," Emmett replies sardonically. "No one wanted to die today, see?"
"I'm sure he eats normal food," Edward snaps.
Emmett snorts. "I'm sure he eats common sense too. I see you're missing yours. Did you feed it to him per chance?"
Edward turns and stomps off. "I'm letting him out of the cage," he says sharply over his shoulder.
The cook prepared a portion of rice with chicken gravy and beans at the Princeling's behest. Edward sticks a hard slab of seed bread into the dish and makes his way to the cage.
He lifts the draping to find Jasper staring at his left hand with a repulsed look on his face. The black curved claws are still protruding from it, delayed in retraction by the suddenness of his returning transformation, perhaps. He scratches at the claws with his good hand. Someone has given him a long dark tunic fraying at the hems and thick trousers that are too short. He eyes the Princeling warily.
Edward slides the dish under the bars without a word.
Jasper immediately bends over the plate, lapping at the gravy, and scooping up the rice and beans with the bread. He devours the meal as if he hasn't eaten in days. Now that Edward thinks about it, it's very possible that he hasn't.
Jasper's hair tumbles around his face, honey streaks rippling like a waterfall. Edward resists the urge to reach through the bars to tuck the strands behind his ear. "Jasper," he says faintly, "slow down."
The berserker straightens, swallowing his last bite, and eyes the empty plate guiltily. Edward didn't mean to shame him. "It's okay. I'll bring you more."
Jasper shakes his head quickly and sits back, clawed hand draping over his abdomen, looking sated.
Edward nods towards the hand. "Does that always happen?"
Jasper shakes his head, looking forlorn. "It didn't even take the first time," he volunteers, sounding defensive.
"The first time?" Edward repeats as Jasper averts his eyes.
"I wouldn't go into bloodlust no matter how hard they tried," he says, slim face expressionless. "I almost bled out before I grew fangs."
Edward tries to ignore the gruesome images that spring to mind at those words. He winces inwardly, recalling the sound of the whip. "Is it easier now?"
"Only faster," Jasper replies. "It's never easier." His brown eyes watch Edward carefully. "I've heard of you before. They call you the Sorcerer Prince. I thought you'd be old, like the sorcerers who made me."
The bitterness in his voice makes Edward cringe. "Not all sorcerers…" Edward gesticulates with his hands, unsure how to redeem himself in Jasper's eyes, and even less certain why he feels the need to do so. "There are rules, and they broke them when they did that to you."
Jasper's grin is mirthless. "Doesn't matter, does it? It's done."
Edward lets his distress show. "They didn't make you, Jasper. They hurt you, they used you, and they were cruel for doing so. But you are no less of what you were before. You are only different, that is all." He reaches gingerly and takes Jasper's hand. The claws have shortened somewhat. "Even before that, when they used lust magicks on you, it was a barbarous thing, and we do not allow that in our land."
Jasper looks away at that and hangs his head – ashamed.
"It's not your doing, of course," Edward adds quickly. "Actually sometimes I think Emmett is under the influence of lust spells," he jokes, trying to lighten the mood. "You've heard they call him the Loving Prince?"
His smile falters at the look that crosses Jasper's face. "I'm only jesting. Although I did try to slip an impotent curse under his bed once, but it didn't work…"
Jasper regards him quietly as he trails off, losing his trail of through in those speckled brown orbs.
The silence quickly becomes uncomfortable.
Edward pulls his hand back. Jasper's claw has returned to normal.
"Do you–" Edward begins, but pauses awkwardly, "do you play chess?"
Jasper's eyebrow arches up, quietly surprised. He thinks for a minute and nods. Edward gladly unlocks the door of his cage.
Emmett finds them not long after, heads bowed over a chessboard. Edward looks up at the sound of his heavy boots crossing the space of the tent with long strides. He stands over the table and stares hard at Jasper. Edward starts to ask him to leave, annoyed by the hardness in his eyes, and disturbed by its effect on the berserker. But Emmett opens his mouth first.
"So," he turns his gaze towards Edward as Jasper squirms in his seat. "When are we going to kill him?"
A nervous look disturbs Jasper's previously tranquil features.
"No," Edward replies loudly. "No, we're not– we are not going to kill him."
Emmett lets that sink in for a second. "I don't understand."
Edward almost growls. "Do you need me to use smaller words?" he asks sarcastically.
"What are you keeping him for?" Emmett demands, pointing at the berserker.
Edward huffs, he knew this question was coming but he hasn't thought it through. He sits in steaming silence, glaring up at his brother, trying to find a reason.
"When I joked about finding a beast to warm your bed I was mocking you," Emmett says flatly, "not giving you a suggestion.
Edward feels his face heating up. "Jasper is a fierce fighter and a good soldier. He can be an asset to us."
"He is not a soldier," Emmett says, exasperated, "he is Caius's property."
Edward crosses his arms. "He was, but the winner of the war takes the spoils. He is mine now."
Emmett narrows his eyes. "What do you need a berserker for? The campaign is over."
"I need a– a guard," Edward replies. "You have guards, many guards, and armed retainers, and shieldsmen…"
"Of course I do," Emmett shouts, "because I go into battle. You move little wooden pieces around on a map."
Edward's annoyed frown deepens into a glower. "Yes, that is what I do. I plan how you can go into battle so you would win and how your men can avoid being ambushed or flanked and die by the squadron. But if I am wrong, and your troops perish, and you with it, I need a guard to ensure my safety."
Emmett purses his lips, skeptical. "He'll run for it the first chance he gets, or worse, he'll crush your neck and put an axe through your spine."
"I won't," Jasper says clearly. He looks mildly surprised at his own words. His face reddens as he glances at Edward. "I swear it."
Emmett's dimples accentuating his sneer. "Recant your vows to Caius and pledge yourself to Edward," he taunts.
Jasper hesitates for a heartbeat, looking between the brothers. To Edward's astonishment, he gets down on his knees, raising one hand in pledge. "Let the gods and the men bear witness." His soft voice is husky. "I renounce my former liege lord and I accept his defeat. If you will have me, Your Grace, I will pledge my fealty to you."
"I–" Edward takes a breath and tries again. "I will have you." He quickly recovers from his amazement and looks up at Emmett. "There. Done."
Emmett glares at Jasper. "If you break this oath I swear to the gods I will pull your innards out from your ass."
"Brother," Edward groans.
Emmett ignores him and knocks the chess pieces over with a flick of his big hands. "Do your duty, soldier. Go guard the door."
Jasper hurries to his feet and slips out of the tent.
Edward picks up his white king and sighs. "One more move and I would have won."
Emmett lowers himself into Jasper's seat and leans back, arms folded across his chest. He has a concerned look in his eyes. "I had that happen to me once," he says casually. "I captured a pretty little Volturi servant girl. She had hair as yellow as corn and eyes like a doe. She turned on her old masters quickly enough. One day, I took her into bed and exhausted myself. I woke later that night to find her holding a black dagger an inch from my face. I killed her."
Edward clicks his tongue in irritation. "Jasper isn't a vengeful Volturi chambermaid."
"Oh, no, he's just a deranged Volturi berserker," Emmett stands, grinning mockingly, "a broken one, at that."
"Put him in a tunic with our colors," Edward calls after his brother as he makes his way to the door, "perhaps then the men won't fear him so.
Emmett doesn't look back. "And you put some of your talismans around your little neck, and I won't fear him so."
Edward struggles with is pride briefly before conceding that Emmett's disquiet is well founded. He digs up his last talisman and slips it into his pocket.
Emmett allowed the men a night of rest before riding back towards the capital. Spirits are high, the campaign is over, and the belligerent Volturi trespasser is captured. There will be no more battles tomorrow, and everyone is thankful for that.
Edward gives Jasper one of Caius's horses. It takes them all day to ride out of the valleys, and Jasper kept pace alongside Edward the entire way. He is a good rider, spurring he mare along with lazy taps of his heel, and picking the easiest trails. His mount is sure-footed under his lead, while some of Emmett's cavalry, who were native to these parts, found the going difficult.
They put Caius in Jasper's cage. The commander didn't like that. The men laughed when he complained the iron was getting too hot to touch. They pretended to be deaf when he demanded a drink of water. Edward has never seen the need to intentionally treat prisoners poorly, however Caius is different. He isn't being marched towards the noose. Edward allowed the men to do as they pleased because he doesn't have the heart to tell them the truth. In fact, he wouldn't be surprised to find Aro waiting for them on the steps of the palace, bearing gifts and promising peace for the return of his brother.
It's a long week's ride back to the heart of the kingdom. Jasper stands by the door of Edward's tent every night, and strikes an imposing figure in camp during the day. The men still refer to him as the Chimera in whispered conversations. No one dares to approach him, and gives the Princeling a wide berth by extension. Even Edward's own bannermen keeps their distance, leaving Jasper to guard Edward alone.
On the sixth night, storm clouds roll in from the south. The sound of fat raindrops spattering onto oiled canvas wakes Edward with a start. He calls Jasper inside. "Stay dry," he says groggily in the general direction of the door, then turns over and goes back to sleep.
Edward drifts between dreams, his slumber disturbed by the slapping of the rain, the booms of thunder, and the white flashes of lightning that sears the inside of his eyelids. He sees a girl with blood dripping from her lips and her spine torn out of her neck. She is pale and small. As Edward watches glistening fangs grow from between her lips, and scarlet droplets draw a picture over the ivory. There that jagged scar again, he sees it every night. He reaches for it. The grooves in the skin glow like embers, throbbing with orange and gold, and catch alight. The fire licks up Edward's arms. It's a sweet, sweet burn.
He wakes suddenly. A bolt of lightning illuminates Jasper's white face, leaning down close. Edward's surprised gasp catches in his throat. The berserker's brows are furrowed into a line. His hair, still damp from the rain, frames his solemn face.
Emmett's story about his Volturi prisoner flashes through Edward's mind.
The thunder shakes the ground, the lightning passes, and darkness swallows up Jasper's face again. Edward feels cold sweat behind his neck.
"You were groaning in your sleep." The bass in Jasper's quiet voice rumbles through the darkness.
Edward's head falls heavily back into his pillow. He lets out a silent sigh, immediately ashamed that he jumped to assume the worst about the berserker.
He doesn't notice Jasper's weight on his bed until he gets up to leave. Edward reaches automatically into the dark. He doesn't realize what he's doing until his fingers wrap around Jasper's wrist.
Jasper pauses, and sits back down. He fumbles for a minute, and the soft light of a lamp fills the tent. His hair looks like it was spun from gold, and his dark eyes are warm.
Edward tries to think of something to say, but cannot. He decides to sit up, holding Jasper's shoulder for support. The berserker's eyes never leave his face, waiting patiently as he gathers his thoughts.
"Do you– do you ever dream about the war?" Edward's words tumble out in a rasp.
Jasper lowers his gaze. "Yes. I dream about blood, and fire, and death." He takes a breath. "You'll get used to it."
Edward laughs humorlessly. "I thought I would have been used to it by now. It's been six months."
"Since you saw your first kill?"
"No, since I left the capital," Edward grins to himself, embarrassed by how little horrors he must have witnessed compared to Jasper, and how small his problems must seem to the other man. "I haven't seen a man die before you…ah…" He trails off and peers at the berserker, gauging his reaction.
Jasper has a grim smile on his lips. "You'll see much more of that. And you'll have many more nightmares."
"I wasn't exactly having a nightmare," Edward admits before he can stop himself.
Jasper follows his gaze, and sees the bulge in Edward's pants. He pauses for a moment, as if unsure how to react. Edward reddens and pulls his fallen covers over himself, wishing his linen undergarments weren't so thin.
In the light of the oil lamp, Jasper's cheeks flush pink.
Edward buries his face in his hands, still dazed from the sudden awakening, and too flustered to do anything other than hide. From the corner of his eye, he can see Jasper raising his hand, as if to pat him on the back, but only hovers for a moment before lowering it again.
Jasper stands abruptly and walks stiffly away. He returns with a goblet in hand. "Water," he says, bending into a small bow. He hesitates. "Your Grace," he adds.
"There's no need for formalities when we're alone." Edward says into the goblet. He wipes his mouth on the back of his hand and looks up. Jasper's nose is an inch from his. The berserker is handsome in this light, more than usual. His eyes are deep, dilated, and darker than Edward has ever seen it. His full lips are soft and inviting. His face is washed in gold by the lamplight, and his scars don't deter Edward's strange desire to run his tongue over that skin.
Jasper takes the goblet, but Edward doesn't let go.
He tips his head, and Jasper leans in closer. It feels like the most natural thing, Edward thinks, as his lips meet Jasper's.
Jasper's breath is sweet. Edward inhales him, erection stiffening swiftly under the sheets.
BOOM.
They spring apart. The goblet falls to the ground, clattering in the silent wake of the thunder. Jasper's eyes flicker up towards the ceiling, as if rebuking the storm. In a neighbouring tent, someone curses loudly, and a chorus of voices mumble their agreement.
Jasper picks up the cup in one smooth motion. "You should sleep," he says quietly. Before Edward could answer, he dims the lamp, and returns to his post.
Edward lies down reluctantly, and turns his back to the door. He reaches between his legs warily, but is too embarrassed to stroke. He closes his eyes and sees Jasper standing before him, naked but for the collar around his neck.
Edward wakes at the light of dawn with his hot seed on his belly, and his back sticking to the sweat-dampened sheets.
Later that morning they ride into view of the capitals walls. Jasper ogles at the miles of heavy stone encircling the city, sealing it off from the farms and paddies that stretch out from it across the horizon. The Volturi probably don't build cities like this, and why would they? King Carlisle doesn't send his armies across their borders every few months on a whim. They have no sense of threat.
Jasper is keeping pace with Edward, as he has always done.
Edward sneaks a sideways glance at him from the corner of his eyes.
Jasper's honey waves shine in the sunlight; curling strands brush his cheekbones and lift lightly in the breeze. His brows are furrowed, squinting in the morning light. His hands rest upon the saddle, holding the reins carelessly between his fingers, completely at ease. There is something about the way his hips move as his mount tots up the slanting paths that makes Edward's mind wander.
What does he even think of Edward?
Did he plan to pledge his fealty to Edward before Emmett demanded it? Did he do it because he had truly wanted to, or was it the only way he saw by which his life could be spared? The haunting honesty in his eyes when he knelt there should mean something. It didn't seem like a simple ploy for survival.
Though his actions until last night have been nothing more that dutiful, Edward could feel hints of something else that lurked below the surface. On first glance, it seems he has been playing the part of a soldier, and nothing more. But sometimes Jasper gets that look in his eyes and those dark orbs linger on Edward longer than they should. It's that same look Emmett gets when he sees a woman who catches his fancy. That probably means something too.
Plus, Jasper was the one who leaned in close. Edward can still see those heavy-lidded eyes, hear that quiet breathing, and taste those lips that tugged hungrily at his. But, Edward reminds himself, Jasper was also the one who walked away afterwards.
When they broke camp this morning, Jasper didn't bring up last night, and Edward didn't mention it either. He doesn't know what to say anyways, and he doesn't know how to make sense of it all. Emmett has once told him that some feelings can't be reasoned with, and at times there is no logic to be found. Edward scoffed at his brother then, but now ne knows what Emmett meant.
At noon, they passed through the capital's arching gates. The city guards kept the milling crowds at bay as the men marched up the wide stone streets. As far as the eye can see there are low brick houses with terracotta roofs stacked upon each other. Their colorful walls form a lively mosaic all the way up to High Street, from which the white domed roofs of libraries and schools take over the skyline. The roads lead upward to the city's centre, where the palace sits upon a hill.
The people cheer at the sight of Edward, and even louder for Emmett. Emmett waves back at them, dimples accentuating his wide smile. He never fails to endear the people to his cause. He could lead their sons off a cliff and they would still love him.
From the umpteenth time Edward wishes their father could see that Emmett would make a much better king and name him as heir instead.
The palace sits among lush green gardens, meticulously maintained by the groundskeepers. Jasper seems to appreciate their labour. He walks over to a hedge after dismounting, admiring the way it was been trimmed to resemble a swan. King Carlisle loves the leaves and grasses and all manners of green things. He even holds court in the gardens sometimes when the weather is fair and the skies are blue and cloudless.
Today, however, the King is sitting in his throne room. The courtiers stand around, draped in silks and furs, and perfumed from their foreheads to their heels. They murmur behind their fans as the princes enter, with a small party of their men. Most of the troops broke away at the barracks, eager to retire to their beds and their homes. Only Emmett's personal guards and retainers follow him into the palace. Jasper followed too, seeing as he has nowhere else to go. The courtiers bow as the princes pass, and straighten to eye the men in tow with haughty gazes and upturned noses.
The pitter-patter of little feet cuts through the murmur of low voices.
"They're back!" Alice's ecstatic squeal turns into a giggle when Edward sweeps her up into his arms.
"You've grown bigger," Edward says, smiling against her round cheeks and kissing her on the forehead.
"And prettier," Emmett adds, reaching over to tap the toddler on the nose. She grabs his finger and bites down.
"Ow!" Emmett says with a pretend grimace. "You've grown some more teeth too."
Alice laughs. Edward can see Jasper watching them over her head. He has a small uncertain smile tugging at his lips that pulls at Edward's heartstrings.
Queen Esme waves the crowding courtiers aside, and takes Alice into her arms. She looks every bit the same as she did six months ago when Edward left, minus the tears trailing down her face.
"Welcome home," she smiles, warm eyes hardly containing her relief at the sight of them, back safe and sound. She looks them up at down anxiously, and hugs them each in turn with her free arm while Alice tries to struggle out of her other one. "Come," she gestures to the throne, "your father is waiting."
There will be more time for her to fuss over them later when they are alone. Edward knows she probably has a table set up already in her suite, laden with all sorts of meats, pies, sweet loaves and steaming soups. It's her customary way of greeting Emmett upon his return from every campaign – to stuff him until he can't swallow another bite. It's a wonder that he hasn't grown bigger than he is. Edward looks towards the back of the room, where the guards stand next to the grand doors. He reminds himself to pile up a plate and have it brought to Jasper afterwards.
King Carlisle's solemn face doesn't hide his joy in seeing his sons returning home victorious. That twinkle in his eyes and the little telltale lines at their corners give him away. Edward bows and Emmett follows suit with some difficulty, hindered by his armour.
"You have the people's gratitude," the King announces. "Thank you for your bravery, Prince Emmett, in the face of our enemy, and thank you, Prince Edward, for your ingenuity in devising their defeat. The Volturi threat is quelled, and the trespasser Caius is captured!"
The courtiers applaud politely.
The King catches Edward's eyes. "Aro has sent word ahead of his emissary. We should be expecting a party from Volturia soon."
Edward nods in acknowledgement of the news. He has expected as much. It will be Felix, probably. He is Aro's favorite messenger despite being ill-suited for the job. He is a big man with a bigger ego.
"We should send them back with Caius's head," Emmett growls.
The King frowns slightly. "You will both join me in the war room shortly to discuss the proper course of action."
Edward bows. "As you wish, Your Majesty."
"This is diplomacy, Emmett," King Carlisle says quietly. "We will treat the emissary with utmost respect."
Emmett and Edward share a knowing glance. Their father probably hasn't forgotten that unmentionable incident the last time the Volturi emissary visited. To be fair, it was a very memorable visit for many reasons.
"I can promise to do that," Emmett says, "if Felix can promise to keep his idiot mouth shut."
King Carlisle lets out a small sigh. "These border skirmishes have become too frequent in recent years, and too costly for us. We will use this opportunity to seek a long term truce with Aro. For this reason, I have invited our Northern neighbours to act as mediators."
"The Denali Matriarchs are coming?" Edward asks, surprised. The Denali have long been content to mind their own business. They receive yearly tithes from the southern kingdoms to keep the roaming bands of Quileute raiders from tramping through the lands. The Denali have pointedly refused to intervene in any matters of contest between the southern nations in the past, and only marched their enormous armies south when their tithes ceased to come.
"The Czarinas Tanya and Irina will arrive in our city in two days time," King Carlisle says. "We anticipate their guidance in this matter." He stands and raises his arms in a grand gesture. His Royal Guardsmen snap to attention behind him, their trademark golden armors glimmering with reflected light.
"We welcome our princes home tonight with a feast in their honor. We shall celebrate our victory with wine and songs."
The courtiers' applause is significantly more enthusiastic at that. The noblemen have little taste for talks of war and matters of state, but are always ravenous at the prospect of a good party. This is why the generals run the kingdom while the lords grovel for favors.
"If I may, Your Majesty," Emmett says loudly over the din. "I have something to present to the court."
The room becomes quiet and a hundred eyes watch as Emmett points towards the guards at the doors. "This is Prince Edward's new guard."
The other men move back until Jasper is left standing alone, eyes wide and flickering back and forth in panic.
Edward takes a small step towards his brother. "Emmett," he hisses under his breath threateningly.
Emmett ignores him, of course. "He is known as the Chimera, a berserker previously under Caius's command."
Sharp gasps and stifled screams ripple through the gathered courtiers. Those near the back of the room hurry away to the side, casting horrified looks in Jasper's direction.
The berserker flushes red and lowers his head, trying to hide his face in the collar of his cloak without avail.
Edward seizes Emmet's still outstretched hand and forcibly lowers it. "Jasper has since sworn his fealty to me," he says tersely, glaring daggers at his brother.
The King, to everyone's astonishment, laughs. "I know. I have heard," he replies calmly.
Edward watches, open-mouthed as Jasper is beckoned forward. The courtiers scatter before him, squawking like hens. Emmett has a look like he's eaten a bad apple. He glowers at the berserker when he passes.
King Carlisle peers at Jasper with curious eyes. "Do you swear to guard my son with your life?"
Jasper nods slowly, glancing at Edward from the corner of his eye.
The King flicks two fingers in an inconspicuous wave. One of his Guardsmen dashes forward, unsheathing his sword as he goes, straight towards Edward.
Jasper is moving before Edward can even react. In a split second he stops the man in his tracks and has both hands wrapped around the Guardsman's neck.
The Guardsman drops his sword and sputters, clamping his fingers around Jasper's, clawing at him. His choking gurgle echoes through the silent throne room.
"Enough!" Emmett pries them apart and sends Jasper stumbling back two steps with a hard shove. "He has no control," Emmett snaps, rounding on Edward.
Edward finds himself at Jasper's side. He places a hand on Jasper's arm protectively. "Then you should train him," he suggests coldly. "Teach him what he needs to know and fit him with a sword."
"That would be a good idea," King Carlisle agrees quickly, just as Emmett opens his mouth to argue. "Edward has the right to pick his own guards, and I trust his decision."
Edward gives Emmett a triumphant look, and bows to the King in gratitude. Jasper mirrors the action stiffly.
King Carlisle descends the steps of his throne. "The court is dismissed for today. Come, Edward, we have business to attend to."
Jasper is taken to the barracks. Emmett stomps off towards the war room, slighted, and spends the rest of the day with his arms resolutely crossed over his chest and a dark look on his face. Esme interrupts their meeting to demand that her boys be allowed to eat before they continue to debate strategies for diplomacy and points of negotiation.
By the time Edward finally makes it to his rooms the sky is already dark. None of them manage to make it to the feast thrown in their honour, but according to Riley, Edward's chamber boy, those in attendance had a swell time and no one even noticed the King and the princes were absent.
"I've drawn a bath, Your Grace," Riley says as he helps Edward out of his dusty riding clothes. "You should hurry before the water gets cold."
"Thank you," Edward says as a knock sounds at the door.
He heads towards the inner room where the steaming bath awaits as Riley answers the door.
"Has he summoned you?" comes Riley's annoyed voice. "Well, you can't come in if he hasn't asked for you. I don't care who you are, but His Grace is tired. You can seek an audience with him tomorrow, if he has time. And the last time I checked, he hasn't got a guard."
Edward pauses at that, and turns. He sticks his head out from behind the doorway of his bedroom to see Riley blocking the path of Jasper. He must have showered at the barracks. Someone has given him a fresh set of clothes and a small sword.
"It's fine, Riley," Edward says. "Go and fetch that plate I asked you to save from the feast."
"As you wish, Your Grace," Riley replies meekly and runs off, but not before giving Jasper a dirty look.
Edward appraises Jasper from where he stands; liking the way the man's eyes darken when they take in the sight of him, half-undressed.
"Have you eaten?" Edward asks.
Jasper nods mutely.
Edward gesticulates in the direction Riley has gone. "Well, in case you're still hungry…" Jasper doesn't answer. Edward clears his throat. "You know, it's not like camp. Here in the palace you don't have to guard me at night."
A heartbeat passes. Jasper turns to leave.
Edward almost kicks himself for his stupidity. "Wait," he says hurriedly. "Stay tonight." He racks his brain for an excuse. "It's too dark out, you might get lost on your way to the barracks."
Jasper gingerly steps through the door and closes it behind him. Edward goes back to his bath, and is happy to hear Jasper following him through the rooms.
Edward sheds his tunic and tosses it onto the ground. Riley will pick it up later. He unlaces the front of his trousers and hesitates before pushing them down his hips. Jasper watches him from the door, going pink in the face. Edward feels self conscious for the first time. Riley has watched him strip for years, and Edward has never batted an eye. But with the berserker watching, it feels different somehow.
Edward shakes off the feeling and drops his pants. He keeps his back to Jasper as he climbs over the side of the tub. The scented water rises as he sits and spills over the smooth wooden rims. He sits back and leans his head against the panelling, feeling less relaxed than he usually does.
Riley bustles through the door. "Your dinner is ready, Your Grace. Would you like to eat it in the bath?"
"It's for Jasper," Edward says over his shoulder.
"Oh." The pique in Riley's voice makes Edward smile. He looks back. Jasper hasn't moved.
Riley picks up a sponge and lathers it with soap. He runs it up and down Edward's arms, leaving white, sweet-smelling suds in its wake. He scrubs the other arm, the moves to the back, and then the front. Riley has Edward stand while he runs it down his legs. Edward can feel Jasper's gaze on his back, burning into his skin. He tries not to think about the berserker, feeling a familiar feeling curling in the pits of his abdomen, making his manhood stiffen.
Riley runs the soap through Edward's hair and rinses him off with a bucket of water. Edward climbs out of the tub and runs his hands through his hair. A thick towel is draped across his shoulder and he pulls it across his chest. "Thank you, Riley," he says, but turns to find that it is Jasper standing behind him.
Riley is leaning against the door frame, looking upset.
Jasper pats Edward down expertly, only hesitating over the bulge between his legs. Edward breathes through his nose as Jasper's strong hands slide up his back. When Jasper walks away to retrieve his sleeping clothes, Edward let out a breath, feeling jitters dance up his spine.
He doesn't know what he's feeling, but he takes comfort in the fact that Jasper is obviously feeling it too. When the berserker returns holding his pants, there is a look on his face that reminds Edward of the night before and his black of his pupils are as big as marbles.
xxx
Yes, smut is coming...soon.
Thanks for all the reviews, you guys are great. I hope you guys enjoyed this one. Next chapter is called A Proposal.