Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“Oh, yes, Annie, just like that,” Marcus groaned, his rough fingers tangling in Antony’s hair.

Antony rolled his eyes at the nickname but didn’t pause in his sucking. His lover had been right, it really had been too long since they had dallied like this. He was enjoying himself much more than he’d expected.

He slipped a hand between Marcus’ legs and gave his balls a light squeeze. At the same moment, he dove forward and swallowed his cock down to the root, humming lightly as he relaxed his throat. This move always undid Marcus, and today was no exception. The other vampire came with a shout, pulling painfully at Antony’s hair. Antony kept sucking through his orgasm, then subsided and simply held Marcus’ cock in his mouth, waiting for his second-in-command to recover.

Why didn’t he take time for this more often? It had been almost a week. It wasn’t as if his nights were full to bursting, like they had been back when their seafaring lives began over a thousand years ago. Back then, only a few of his fifty followers had known the first thing about sailing, and fewer had known anything about organized fighting. He’d spent every waking minute either with Theodora, teaching spoiled vampires how to use their soft fingers to tie knots and trim sails, or with Marcus, whipping them into an approximation of a proper fighting force. There had been constant brawls as everyone grew used to their new cramped living situation, and more often than not there had been terrible, gnawing hunger that ground at the pit of his belly until he felt hollow. There had been so many days when Antony had lain awake in his bed, too exhausted even to sleep, wondering if it might not be better to step out into the sunlight and let it all just stop.

But then they had discovered that wide desert continent, completely unknown to the powers back in their own distant homeland and full of warring tribes desperately scrabbling for the bits of arable land near the coast, and Claudia had devised her plan. After that, things had fallen into place. No more hunger meant less infighting, and the simple passage of time honed his pampered rabble into the finest fighters, sailors, and shipwrights Antony could have wished for. His direct leadership was rarely required anymore, and had he wished, he could have devoted all of his time to his many hobbies- music, painting, sex.

Sex with Marcus, preferably. They were far from monogamous- in a crew of thirty, over the course of a thousand years, everyone who was even the slightest bit interested in sex had sampled everyone at least once or twice. But he and Marcus had been lovers for centuries now, and Antony, at least, intended to continue that arrangement until the end of time. Most particularly and urgently, right now. He moved off of Marcus’ cock and squirmed up onto his bed, moving aside the lewdly sprawling form of his war chief.

Antony wasn’t large, but next to Marcus he sometimes felt like a child. The other vampire’s body was long and wide, covered in tightly corded muscle, thick, dark hair, and a patchwork of scars. Lying sprawled and sated like this, he reminded Antony of the massive bears in their long-ago homeland after a meal. It still sent a little flame of satisfaction flickering in the deep parts of his belly to know that, with all of that skill and power and beauty, Marcus had chosen him.

“All right, my turn,” he told his lover.

The bigger vampire grinned lazily up at him. “What if I’ve had enough?”

Antony snorted. “You? Unlikely.”

“All right, then, what if I want to save my ardor for my new human plaything?” Marcus gave a languid stretch, showing no inclination to move. “We’ll be arriving tonight, after all.”

“Yes, and spending two nights after our arrival making nice with the priests and royals.” Antony shoved again at the other vampire’s bulk. “You’ll have plenty of time to let your ardor build before you’re even choosing your human, let alone fucking him.”

“Mmmmmm, I can hardly wait,” Marcus purred, and Antony gave an exaggerated shudder.

“I don’t know how you can stand it,” he grumbled. “They’re all so soft and weak… It would be like sticking it in a jelly. And anyhow, they’re humans! It’s hardly a step above fucking a pig or a cow. Like admitting you couldn’t do any better. And who knows where they’ve been? It’s filthy!”

“Oh, don’t like filth, do you?” Finally, Marcus was moving. He reached across Antony’s body to the drawer where the oils were kept, stooping down until his lips dragged over Antony’s ear when he whispered, “Are you getting squeamish, my lord, after all these years?”

The touch went straight to Antony’s cock, but he kept himself in check and even managed to roll his eyes.

“Just make sure to wash before coming to me,” he said. “If you come in here with the smell of your toy on you, I’ll dump you over the side. It will take Cloelia an hour to fish you out, and by then a shark might snap you- uh!”

His words cut off as Marcus wrapped an oil-drenched hand around his length. His war chief grinned smugly at the response and squeezed harder.

“Oh, come now, Annie,” he said, low and throaty enough to drive Antony mad. “Just think what fun we could have if you’d learn to be a little less prudish. We could swap our humans, sit and chat while they sucked us off, make them play with each other, maybe grab one of them and get him on all fours, and I could push into his mouth while you take the other hole-”

He’d been stroking Antony and shifting over him as he spoke. At this point, Marcus scooted up the length of Antony’s body and positioned himself over the head of the smaller vampire’s cock. Before he could say any more, Antony pressed a hand to his chest.

“Wait, you idiot, you’re not loosened! You’ll hurt yourself!”

Marcus grinned wolfishly, and though Antony had had a thousand years to get used to every expression of his lover’s face, he still felt a delicious thrill shiver through his entire body.

“Isn’t that what you hate about humans? How breakable they are? I’m no human, Annie.” And Marcus pressed down, engulfing Antony in one quick motion.

Both vampires cried out, almost loudly enough to drown out the rather tentative knock at the door of Antony’s quarters.

Antony gripped Marcus’ hips hard, keeping him in place while he gathered himself. “What?” he called out, his voice a ragged snarl. Unfortunately, it verged on a squeak at the end, when Marcus gave him a fiendish grin and an impish squeeze.

“F-Forgive me, my lord.” It was one of the human attendants left over from a previous sacrifice, and he sounded exactly as terrified as he ought to be. “M-My lord Theodora wanted me to tell you that she’s sighted the Tacian harbor. We’ll arrive in about an hour.”

Oh, he was one of Theodora’s. Good thing Antony hadn’t given in to his first impulse, which had been to shove Marcus away and bellow at the intruder until he pissed himself. Theodora was miserly about her sacrifices- a hoarder, really. She must have had half a dozen cluttering up her chambers. She never slipped and broke them or drank them dry the way others did. Instead, she kept them close until they finally keeled over of old age. Still, they were hers and she was entitled to do with them as she pleased, and she would have been livid if Antony had frightened one of them.

“Tell your master you’ve delivered your message,” he growled. “Now leave me be!”

There was a sound of scurrying footsteps, and Antony returned his attention to the big vampire grinning on his cock.

“Really?” he demanded. “That’s what you can’t wait to get your hands on?”

Marcus rolled his eyes. “Theo lets them get old and shriveled and cowardly. I wouldn’t touch one like that.”

“You could stand to be a little more like Theodora, you know,” Antony said. Perhaps this wasn’t the most opportune time for a scolding, but the chance had presented itself. “Remember, you have to make them last six years. If you break this one, I’m not letting you pick another. You’ll have to drink from the communal stock like everyone else.”

“Oh really?” Marcus quirked an eyebrow, then began rolling his hips in shallow, fluid little movements that made Antony see stars. “What if I was really very sorry? What if I was willing to do anything to make it up to you? What-”

The bigger vampire’s voice cut off as Antony seized his hips and brought him down, hard. If he had only an hour until they arrived, he intended to make the most of it.

Chapter Text

“That’s good,” Asao said, patting Hanyu’s shoulder.

Hanyu scoffed and dropped the flute into his lap, flashing a grin at his friend. “You don’t have to lie.”

“Better, then,” Asao amended, with a smile that quickly turned serious. “Now come on, don’t stop. This is no time to get lazy.”

Hanyu bent his head and accepted his friend’s reproof humbly, but he couldn’t help reflecting that anyone would seem lazy to Asao. The other boy was first in most of their classes and second in the rest, and there was no one more eager to serve the gods when their chance arrived.

It would be any day now.

Hanyu glanced across the temple courtyard at the class of 18- and 19-year-olds, who were doing their exercises by moonlight. They had already been switched to the gods’ nocturnal schedule, and soon they would be the oldest cadre in the temple, the ones the priests fussed over and pampered and scolded and checked for defects. It seemed like mere weeks ago that Hanyu’s own cadre had ascended, when the older boys were claimed by Lord Claudia’s court. In fact, it had been nearly two years, and Lord Antony’s court would arrive within the week.

There were three great lords among the gods: Claudia, Antony, and Titus. They lived in massive ships on the sea, locked in eternal battle with the terrible monsters that dwelt in the depths and waited for their chance to escape the gods’ grip and devour the humans. Every other year one of those three lords would journey with their court to bless the people of Tacia, drive back any neighboring kingdoms which had begun infringing on their lands, and claim the tribute of thirty flawless young men. Hanyu had known these facts since he was a child toddling through the temple nursery, but even so, it was difficult to wrap his mind around the fact that any day now, he would truly be claimed by the gods and enter their service.

He didn’t feel ready. He certainly didn’t feel ‘flawless,’ as the terms of the sacrifice demanded. He danced and sang adequately and did well enough in the classes pertaining to housekeeping, cooking, and intimate services like sex and massage, but his only true talent seemed to be for reading and recitation, and he was abysmal at playing music, as Asao had just witnessed.

“Come on,” Asao urged, his handsome face splitting into an encouraging grin. “Lord Antony’s supposed to love the flute!”

Hanyu knew he wouldn’t be getting anywhere near Lord Antony, but he hated to disappoint his friend. Even more, he would hate to disappoint the gods. He knew his chances of being selected for personal service were slim, but he would still belong to the court, and he ached to be pleasing in whatever capacity the gods chose to use him.

Asao, though, was sure to be chosen by one of the foremost gods as a personal attendant. Everybody knew it, but Asao didn’t preen or lord it over them. Here he was, helping Hanyu, even as their destiny bore down on them.

Hanyu lifted the flute back to his lips. The sounds that came from the abused instrument didn’t sound any different to him, but Asao’s face lit up and he even clapped his hands, bouncing a little in place.

“That’s great!” he cried. “You-”

His next words were lost when a deep, resonant tone split the night. Hanyu froze, his heart thudding painfully against his chest as the temple bells continued to toll. He stared at Asao, and his friend stared back, his jaw slack and his face chalky.

The bells rang on, heralding the arrival of the gods.

Ten minutes later, Hanyu shoved through the door to the Great Hall with Asao on his heels.

Most of their cadre was there already. The young men clustered in little groups and filled the air with anxious whispers, making the grand, high-ceilinged space sound like the lair of a giant serpent. However, the presence of Father Shu kept anyone from speaking too loudly.

He stood near the center of the room, his bright robes slightly rumpled, but his expression as calm and firm as ever. He was the priest in charge of overseeing the upbringing and education of the offerings, and his absolute authority had been part of all their universes as long as they could remember. Hanyu, as usual, still couldn’t keep quiet.

“Is it them, Father?” he cried as he and Asao skittered towards the priest.

“Softly, Hanyu,” the older man chastised him. “And don’t ask foolish questions. Of course it’s them.”

Hanyu ducked his head. “Sorry, Father.”

When he looked up, however, the priest was smiling fondly at them.

“You’re good boys,” he said. “The gods will be pleased. How are you feeling, Asao?”

Asao bowed. “I’m ready, Father.”

“Good, good.” The priest turned and clapped his hands loudly. Pale, nervous faces swung towards them, and the susurrating whispers died away.

“Take position, boys. Try to relax and I’ll see if everyone’s here.”

Yes, good. Hanyu collapsed gratefully to his knees and flopped forward into the formal bow they’d practiced all their lives. He was aware of Asao beside him, sinking to the floor as gracefully as a dewdrop sliding down a flower petal.

The position was familiar and comforting. Hanyu appreciated the way it cut off visual stimulation and stopped his nervous shifting and fidgeting, though his heart continued galloping madly in his chest. He pulled in a deep breath and forced himself to relax. Unfortunately, there was no way to relax his brain, which kept whirling unstoppably from one thought to another.

“We’re still missing Morio… ah, there you are,” the priest said, smile clear in his voice as a final set of feet pounded into the room. “Everyone take ten deep breaths.”

Hanyu obeyed readily, but the exercise did little to calm the frantic thoughts spiraling through his mind. I’m going on the ship! I'm going to see the whole ocean! I’m going to see the monsters! I’ll get to meet so many new people... Well, gods… what if the gods don’t like me? What if I’m clumsy and stupid and talk out of turn and ruin everything? What if-

“Good,” Father Shu’s voice interrupted. “Now, I know you’re all nervous, but there’s nothing to be afraid of. You’re good, handsome, clever, obedient boys, and you know what to do. You have been chosen for a great honor and you are well-equipped to excel. It has been a true pleasure to teach you, but you have learned all you need from us. The gods will be giving you your orders now, and all you have to do is obey and show your gratitude for the opportunity you’ve been granted. It isn’t anything you can’t handle.”

Frankly, Hanyu wasn’t so sure, but it was a nice sentiment.

“Now go to the baths,” the priest instructed. “The ceremony won’t be held for two days, so there’s plenty of time to get ready.”

~

Hanyu had always loved watching the sacred processions. When they were eight, he’d jumped up and down so excitedly that he’d fumbled his candle and set Asao’s robe on fire. That stunt had cost him a month of desserts, but Asao had shared his, so it was bearable.

Now, Hanyu couldn’t resist slipping his hand into Asao’s as they walked- no longer observers, but part of the parade. The offerings were near the front of the procession, right after the temple guards. It was comforting to know that the priests were at their back, especially Father Shu. Behind them came the king and his entourage, and after him…

… after him were the gods.

Hanyu’s heart thudded with painful intensity, and he squeezed the slim, capable hand in his. Asao squeezed back. Hanyu wanted to turn his head and look at his friend, but the crowds gathered on either side of the road commanded his full attention.

There they stood, where he had stood so many times before, holding their candles and cheering as the offerings walked past them. The noise felt so much more shattering this year than ever before- had it always been this loud? The cool night air was heavy with smoke, incense, and the heady scent of moonlilies. Spectators wore the slender white flowers in garlands around their necks, held baskets full to brimming with them, and clutched them by armfuls or handfuls. Most were waiting to throw their flowers at the feet of the gods, but several spared a blossom or two for the passing offerings.

A moonlily struck softly against Hanyu’s arm. Instinctively, he caught it. Now what?

He glanced over at Asao. His friend’s snowy ceremonial robe seemed to glow in the darkness, and the candlelight sparkled in the jewels woven through his hair and the powders adorning the lids of his wide, dark eyes. He looked like a painting of a calm, smiling angel, too perfect to alter in any way, but Hanyu couldn’t resist. He reached over and tucked the moonlily behind Asao’s ear.

His friend turned and met his eyes with a small smile, and even in the shifting candlelight Hanyu could see his lips trembling, just a little. Asao might look beatific, but he was terrified. Hanyu was suddenly certain that his friend was far more frightened than Hanyu himself.

Why? Of course the change was intimidating, and it was hardly cowardice to tremble a little when they were about to be presented to immortal gods, but didn’t Asao feel any excitement? In twenty years, they’d barely left the temple grounds, and now they were about to step onto a ship and sail off into the wild sea! After training their whole lives, they were going to fulfill their purpose, and go to places and see sights and learn mysteries that no other mortals could even dream of! It was a wonderful adventure, and as Lord Antony’s personal attendant, Asao’s fate would be the most wonderful of all. He would speak with the great god, dwell in his chambers, perhaps even be granted the honor of sharing his bed… really, there was no reason for Asao to be the least bit afraid.

Hanyu squared his shoulders, stood straighter, and gave his friend a wide grin and a firm squeeze of the hand. He’d be brave and excited for both of them, then, and hope it rubbed off.

He went back to grinning and waving at the crowd. Gods, there were so many of them! He knew he was supposed to maintain a calm, solemn demeanor, as befitted the gravity and sacredness of the occasion, but there were so many smiling faces it was impossible not to smile back. Anyhow, who would scold him now? The priests and offerings had said their goodbyes before the procession began. The king couldn’t see him. And once they were claimed, they would answer only to the gods.

Hanyu didn’t have many acquaintances outside the temple, but he felt the crowd’s affection like a tangible thing. On an impulse, he blew a kiss to a wide-eyed little girl perched on her father’s shoulders, and the crowd redoubled their cheers, pelting him and Asao with a sudden blizzard of lilies. Encouraged, Hanyu went on blowing kisses and waving, swinging Asao’s arm jauntily with his own. It was wonderful to be so admired, and he basked and preened until they neared the harbor and he caught sight of the great ship.

So many things that had seemed enormous when he was a child had diminished as he aged. Trees and buildings alike had grown smaller and dimmer when viewed through his adult eyes. Lord Antony’s vessel, however, seemed even more impressive now than it had the last time he’d seen it, six years ago. The ship towered over all the little fishing vessels in the harbor. Even with the sails rolled tightly, it blotted out an impossible number of stars.

The temple guards escorted the offerings up a few steps to the huge ceremonial dais. After the little candles of the procession, the torches that blazed all around the railing of the platform stung Hanyu’s eyes.

The guards arranged the offerings in two rows of fifteen, and Hanyu had to let go of Asao’s hand when a guard pulled his friend to the front of the first line. It was the spot that indicated his status as the most exceptional of the offerings, and Hanyu couldn’t help swelling a little with pride at seeing his best friend so honored.

Hanyu himself was placed near the middle of the back row. He stood between Gen and Daiji, two more of his friends- they were all his friends to some degree, this cadre of thirty boys with whom he’d shared every day of his life. They’d played together in the temple courtyards, traded bits of food in the dining hall, competed fiercely to be the most graceful and learned and skilled, and as they stood in their two perfect lines, Hanyu was overwhelmed with love and admiration for them all. They were so beautiful in their ceremonial robes, their hair perfectly arranged and makeup perfectly applied, their familiar faces rendered lovely and exotic in the firelight- Hanyu was so proud to be one of them. Suddenly, he couldn’t wait for the gods to arrive and see what glorious tribute his city offered them tonight.

He found himself tearing up and blinked hard to clear the stinging from his eyes. He’d always cried far too easily, at happiness and unhappiness alike. Tonight, the tears that threatened were tears of love and pride and nostalgia. They had all worked so hard to be ready for tonight, and surely even a god would be impressed.

The priests arrived. Most of them remained on the ground level, but the high priest ascended the steps in his full regalia. Hanyu had never been this close to him before, and he couldn’t help feeling a little shy. The man had a sharp, forbidding face, very different from Father Shu’s, and his elaborate gold headdress reflected strangely onto its crags. He gave the boys a quick, evaluating look that made Hanyu’s skin prickle with irritation. Yes, they were arranged to be judged and selected from, but not by this self-important man.

“When Lord Antony and his court ascend the dais, you will make your full bows,” the high priest said, not bothering with any kind of greeting. “You will remain in position until Lord Antony is ready to make his selection. When I give the command, you will rise to your knees. First Lord Antony will choose, then Lord Marcus, then Lord Theodora. Do not meet the gods' eyes or make any movement to try to draw their gaze and persuade them to select you. Stillness and obedience will serve you better than any attempt at attention-grabbing. You will remain silent throughout the ceremony. Your silence begins now.”

Once the priest’s back was turned, Hanyu glanced over at Gen and rolled his eyes. The other boy’s lips quirked up, but that was all. Strange, Gen laughed at everything. Why was everyone so serious? Of course it was a solemn occasion, but wasn’t anybody else happy? Excited?

The king’s retinue stopped at the foot of the platform. Hanyu wished he knew more about the ruling class, at least enough that he could tell who was the queen or the crown prince, or at least the duke that was Father Shun’s uncle. Unfortunately, he’d only ever seen them in these processions, and always at too great a distance to distinguish their faces.

Most of the nobles and royals withdrew to chairs a few feet away from the ceremonial dais where Hanyu lost sight of them, but the king himself (at least Hanyu thought he must be the king, due to the enormous crown he wore) walked up the steps and stood next to the high priest. He kept his back to the offerings, so Hanyu felt free to peer curiously at him. Under his grand crown and elaborate robes he was heavyset and (when he turned his head to speak with the priest) tired-looking, and Hanyu thought he must be unaccustomed to the nocturnal schedule the gods and temple kept.

Then Hanyu stopped thinking, because the crowd’s cheers had grown louder than even the presence of the king could warrant.

He looked quickly towards the road, but the other offerings were all thudding to their knees around him. He didn’t have any more time to try to catch a glimpse. Hanyu sank down beside the others.

The roar of the crowd seemed to die away. After an endless wait, Hanyu felt the wooden dais under his knees and forehead vibrate faintly with approaching steps. The crowd quieted, and the steps grew closer. It took every bit of self-control Hanyu possessed to keep from peeking.

“Rise,” said an unfamiliar voice. It was deep and resonant, and even the one word contained hints of a rich accent the like of which Hanyu had never heard. He suppressed a shiver.

There was some rustling as the king and high priest got to their feet, and the ritual began.

“My dread lord,” the priest said grandly, “your servants humbly beg that you accept this sacrifice of thirty flawless youths, handsome and sound of body, which we willingly offer in tribute to your might and greatness.”

“What would you have in exchange for this sacrifice?” That voice again. It had to be Lord Antony. Hanyu pressed his forehead harder into the dais, struggling against the overwhelming desire to sneak a look.

“Your generous protection, my lord, for which we are eternally grateful.” That speaker wasn’t the high priest… Had to be the king. He sounded as tired as he looked. “Our southern villages have been harried by Surgish raiders in recent months, and we humbly request that you reveal your power and show them the folly of harming the gods’ chosen.”

“It will be done,” Lord Antony replied, his voice darkening a little in a way that made Hanyu’s body stop itching to sit up and gawk. However, when he spoke again, the menace was gone. “I will now choose my personal attendant from among these offerings. Marcus and Theodora will choose as well, then we will conduct the remaining sacrifices to our servants’ quarters. All of these offerings are accepted into our service.”

Hanyu relaxed a little at those words. It was rare for an offering to be rejected, but it happened sometimes. Father Shu would be pleased that Lord Antony had accepted them all before examining them closely. It indicated that the god had faith in the temple’s selection and training.

Hanyu pushed himself up to his knees, struggling anew to keep his eyes respectfully lowered. He couldn’t see Asao from this angle, but after a moment he knew enough time had passed that Lord Antony must have walked past his friend. Well, that was nothing to be worried about. Of course the great god would want to examine all of them, but he would return to Asao. Asao was obviously the best choice.

Footsteps paced before their lines, and finally the voice spoke again.

“That one,” Lord Antony said casually.

Had he not chosen Asao? It was unthinkable, but he was standing near the middle of the lines, closer to Hanyu. Hanyu tried to remember who had been in front of him. Taiki, perhaps? Taiki would be a good choice, but surely there was some mistake. It had to be Asao!

Another voice spoke out a moment later, lower and rougher than Lord Antony’s- Lord Marcus, it must have been. His “That one” came from the end of the line. Definitely Asao. Well, that was all right, then. Lord Marcus was Lord Antony’s war chief and second-in-command, everybody knew that. It was less honor than Asao deserved, but not by much.

Lord Theodora’s choice followed, and then the gods were descending the steps with the king and priest, no doubt to iron out where exactly the raiders were located. A moment later the temple guards dispersed among the offerings, helping them to their feet. A large hand filled Hanyu’s field of vision and when he took it and stood, he found that there were three guards clustered around him.

“This way, sir,” one said. Sir?

As the cluster of offerings descended the steps and was herded towards the dock, Hanyu’s three guards maneuvered him over to Asao. Hanyu was surprised, but grateful for the chance to say goodbye. Who knew how long it would be before the honored personal attendant of the war chief would have time to seek him out?

Asao didn’t seem to share his excitement. His face was pale and still, and he seemed to be avoiding Hanyu’s gaze.

“Congratulations, Asao!” Hanyu whispered. His friend’s face darkened even further. Was he really so disappointed? Hanyu rushed to cover his mistake. “I know it’s not what we thought, but still! Lord Marcus himself! They say he drove off an entire legion of desert-dwellers singlehandedly when the gods were clearing out our city for us!”

Asao didn’t look much cheered, so Hanyu plunged ahead. “Lord Antony must have promised him the finest of us in return for some great service! But once he sees how you serve his second, he’ll know he made a terrible mistake. He-”

“Hanyu!” Asao finally looked up, his eyes round with shock. “You mustn’t say such things! That’s blasphemy!”

Was it? If Asao said so, then probably. Asao was usually right about these things.

“Lord Antony did not make a mistake!” Asao continued, his face going a little red with anger. “How could you speak so disrespectfully of your master?”

His master? Well, technically, yes, the way the king had been his master here in the city- too distantly to be offended by, or even aware of, the occasional slip of his tongue. Why was Asao getting so upset with him?

When they reached the gods’ ship, the guards moved Hanyu, Asao, and a gentle, quiet boy named Kenta away from the rest. Wait, what? Hanyu puzzled through the events of the last few minutes as a dozen or so human attendants made their way down the gangplank.

One temple guard, apparently the leader of the small group, bowed as the favored servants approached.

“Honored ones,” he said, “here are the personal attendants.”

Suddenly, Hanyu understood. He felt his jaw slacken as he jerked his head around to gawp at Asao. His friend, once more, was staring at his own feet and refusing to meet his eyes.

The guard placed a hand on Hanyu’s shoulder, pushing him gently forward as he said, “This one is Lord Antony’s choice.”

Chapter Text

HANYU’S POV

Hanyu’s stomach leapt and squeezed until it seemed to be spinning inside him. It was impossible to tell how much came from the unfamiliar swaying of the ship beneath him, and how much came from his own shredded nerves.

He couldn’t help feeling a little guilty. It should have been Asao here, chosen for the highest honor a human could receive. He didn’t just feel bad for Asao, but for Lord Antony, too. The god ought to have had Asao, lovely, accomplished, perfect Asao. Instead, he had Hanyu. Why would Lord Antony have made such a strange decision?

Hanyu knew he was lucky. Of course he did. To be chosen for personal service by a lord among the gods was an honor beyond anything he’d ever dared to dream, and he shouldn’t question his good fortune. Every time he thought of that smoothly accented voice, the thrillingly casual command- “That one.” – knowing that it had meant him, that he had been the chosen one… he felt tight and trembly all over, and utterly determined to do well. He would hate to disappoint his god- shit, that was probably blasphemy, wasn’t it? He knew he didn’t own Lord Antony, it was the other way around. Asao would still have scolded him for it.

The time stretched, and Hanyu couldn’t resist the temptation to sit back on his heels and examine his surroundings. The room was hard to see as a ship’s cabin, despite the constant slight rocking. It seemed far too permanently settled for that. Certainly everything was very firmly fixed to its place, probably to keep it steady during storms. The bright paintings and tapestries on every wall were fastened along each edge with dozens of little gold tacks, and the gleaming gold sconces on the wall looked solid enough that Hanyu felt he could have swung on them. From where he knelt, he could see that the legs of the sofa were firmly bolted to the floor as well. Somehow, the effect of the room was much more understated than the temple back home, though each individual item was obviously much finer than anything the temple could boast.

Over his shoulder, so that he had to twist to get a decent look, there was a finely carved door. It was open just a crack, and through it Hanyu could see a large shape- perhaps a bed? Was that Lord Antony’s bedchamber? The sconces weren’t lit, so it was hard to see clearly. Beyond the bed, something else- perhaps a bookshelf?

Hanyu was still twisting on his knees, straining for a better look, when the cabin door pushed open. The hinges didn’t even creak. If he hadn’t caught the movement out of the corner of his eye, he wouldn’t have even noticed the god’s arrival.

Hanyu’s stomach imploded, and he dropped back into his formal bow so hastily that when his forehead hit the floor, it was with an audible thud. He crouched there as wave after wave of apprehension rolled through him. Stupid, stupid, stupid. Had he displeased Lord Antony with his nosiness? His clumsiness? His overdue bow? Shit. He didn’t want to disappoint the god already! But after a crushing moment, he heard a low chuckle.

“Look up, pet. Let me see your face.”

There was that voice again, just as smooth and rich and authoritative as it had been at the ceremony. Lord Antony didn’t sound displeased, just amused. And he was calling him ‘pet!’ That had to be good.

“Yes, my lord.” Hanyu pushed up and leaned back on his heels, childishly eager both to show off his obedience and to finally see what his god looked like- still blasphemy, dammit!

Lord Antony was much shorter than he’d expected him to be, and slender as well, but there was easy authority in every line of his relaxed stance and the coolly possessive silver gaze that settled on Hanyu. Yes, silver eyes- too pale and bright to be gray- set in the darkest face Hanyu had ever seen. A long, slightly crooked nose, and below that thin lips, pulled into a smirk. Ears that tapered to delicate tips, another mark of his divine nature- all the gods had ears like that, or so the priests said. This god’s brows were silvery-white like his eyes, rather startling against the darkness of his skin, and his hair was the same. It was pulled into an elaborate braid that trailed far down his back.

His god was very pretty, Hanyu decided, and he was so pleased by this discovery that he didn’t even notice the blasphemous possessive tense in his thoughts this time.

ANTONY’S POV

This was always Antony’s favorite part of a new cycle. He enjoyed stepping onto dry land when they disembarked, he enjoyed the candlelit parades and the adoring crowds, he certainly enjoyed all the posturing and playacting of being gods for a few days, and choosing his new offering was lovely. But finding that offering waiting for him in his cabin was far and away the best part.

He’d chosen on a whim this time. Usually he simply selected the highest-ranked or the biggest sacrifice, and certainly this boy was big. No doubt he’d tower over Antony if they stood next to one another, and his muscles were clearly defined under all that sun-drenched skin. But that was true of all the sacrifices, given the rigorous exercise regimen they were subjected to from their youth, and this boy hadn’t been the largest or the favorite of the temple. He didn’t think he’d ever chosen from the back row before.

No, what had caught Antony’s eye was the boy’s tumble of thick golden hair. It would look just perfect in his sitting-room with all its golden accents, in the torchlight, and Antony had been in a mood for painting lately. So he’d made his choice, and ordered that the torches in his cabin be lit when the sacrifice was delivered even though he didn’t need them. He’d been choreographing the scene in his head ever since: he would enter, and there would be his new plaything, molten gold in the firelight, a perfect match for the frames of the paintings and the sconces and….

What he didn’t expect was to find his sacrifice sitting up on his knees, trying to peek into Antony’s bedchamber.

For an instant, Antony wavered on the edge of anger. This was not what he had been envisioning, and if the sacrifice was a snoop, that could get irritating quickly. However, the graceless haste of the boy’s rush to get into position and the noisy thump of his forehead hitting the floor drew a reluctant chuckle from Antony. There was something amusing and artless about it, and anyhow, he found he didn’t really feel like being angry.

“Look up, pet.” He’d given up asking for names centuries ago. “Let me see your face.”

“Yes, my lord.” The sacrifice’s swift obedience was expected. What Antony did not expect was to be met with the widest, whitest, blithest grin he had seen since- well, it was no use trying to think when he was being blinded. The boy looked as if he’d never been as genuinely thrilled by anything in his life as he was by this one simple order. Was he off in the head? Surely they wouldn’t dare.

“You’re certainly…. eager.” Antony wasn’t sure he’d been entirely successful in veiling his mild surprise.

“Of course, my lord,” the sacrifice burbled. “I- may I say something, my lord?”

The grin dimmed itself, closing as the boy bit his lip nervously, but the eyes stayed wide and eager.

“Go ahead.” Probably Antony was being overindulgent, but he’d never had the urge to terrify the creatures. There was quite enough begging and screaming when they enacted a raid or captured a ship. Frankly, he found Marcus almost as crass for his pleasure in the sacrifices’ fear as for his filthy habit of fucking the things.

At Antony’s permission, the grin popped out again.

“Thank you, my lord!” the boy chirped. “I wanted to thank you for choosing me for your personal attendant, my lord. I don’t quite know why you did, but I promise you won’t regret it!”

This impassioned little speech poured from a face alight with happy awe. Antony was now quite sure that this sacrifice was odd. Certainly he was accustomed to submission, but this boy’s submission was cheerful and artless and radiated from his face with an almost irritating intensity.

Usually Antony liked to draw out this first encounter, but today he decided against it. He would drink, the boy would be frightened, and then he would start acting like a normal sacrifice. Antony flickered over to the spot where his new offering knelt, deliberately moving far faster than a human could. No luck. If anything, the boy looked more delighted and adoring than he had before.

“Are you ready to serve?” he demanded, stepping behind the sacrifice.

“Of course, my lord!”

Antony tangled his fingers in the sacrifice’s hair and tugged his head back, perhaps not as gently as he could have done. The boy gasped, and his dark lashes fluttered wildly against his cheeks. Antony’s eyes flicked downwards as the boy swallowed, making the long, pale feast of his throat move bewitchingly. Antony stooped and (carefully, carefully, it wouldn’t do to damage his offering on the very first night, especially after he had lectured Marcus on the subject) let his fangs push through the tender flesh, then began to suck.

When the sacrifice’s blood flooded his mouth, Antony’s moan of bliss drowned out the boy’s soft, surprised whimper. This sacrifice’s blood was exquisite. Rich and complex, with subtle strains of flavor rippling in and out of each other too quickly to seize on just one. Best he’d had in years. Antony swallowed, then eagerly gulped down another mouthful, and another. Pace yourself, Antony. He took one final, deep draft, then held it in his mouth a moment longer to savor the taste, swilling the thick heat over his tongue.

Finally, regretfully, he swallowed, pulled back, and looked at the boy.

He was still smiling. However, it wasn’t the same blinding grin as before. This smile was close-mouthed and a little shaky at the edges. Satisfaction pooled in Antony’s stomach, almost as warm as his wonderful meal. Good. His new sacrifice was properly intimidated at last.

Then the boy’s eyes popped open. He met Antony’s gaze, and the grin was back, completely undimmed.

“Thank you, my lord!” he said cheerfully. “Was that good? Did I do all right? What can I do next?”

Antony had to let go of the sacrifice’s hair or he feared he might rip the boy’s head off in his frustration.

“You’re not… surprised?” he asked, trying to keep his tone level.

The sacrifice shrugged. “For a minute? But then I remembered, most places give their gods blood.”

Antony could have screamed. “But wasn’t it painful?”

The boy’s smile brightened, if that was even fucking possible.

“I don’t mind, my lord, it’s not so bad,” he said reassuringly. “Thank you so much for your concern! You’re very kind, my lord!”

It had been a very long time since Antony had been capable of headaches. Even so, he could have sworn he felt one coming on.

He straightened and turned away from that adoring gaze, and found he had to resist the urge to stomp as he crossed the room to retrieve the healing salve and bandages he’d had set out. He crouched down beside the boy and examined his neck wounds. There were two small holes, perfectly neat and even. Good. Blood was trickling from them slowly, and Antony leaned in to lick it up, his tongue swiping up the length of the sacrifice’s neck. He studiously ignored the soft, pleased moan that rumbled through that throat and applied the salve, then bound it up to keep any more precious drops from escaping.

“I’m going to be biting you again,” he said sternly, pulling back to meet the boy’s eyes.

The sacrifice nodded eagerly, barely wincing when the movement pulled at his bite marks. “Of course, my lord! Whenever you like! What can I do for you next?”

This was definitely a headache. Perhaps it was something like phantom pain in an amputated limb.

“Go into the bedchamber. You’ll see a pallet beside the bed. Bring it out here.”

He wasn’t going to swap this boy out for one of the others, not with the way his blood tasted. But he’d be damned if he was going to try to sleep with that much good cheer next to his bed. It would probably give him daymares.

Chapter Text

HANYU’S POV

Hanyu huddled on his pallet and stared miserably at the tightly shut door across from him. He didn’t know what he’d done wrong, but clearly there had been something. Lord Antony had had a cot set up right next to his own bed, obviously prepared for a good offering- one who deserved such proximity to the god, one who might be called upon for intimate service, one like Asao- but then he had deemed Hanyu unworthy and ordered him to move the pallet to the sitting room.

It had been going so well, too, at least as far as Hanyu could tell. Lord Antony had called him pet and been so very kind, bandaging his wounds and even worrying about whether he’d hurt Hanyu when he drank from him.

It hadn’t hurt, exactly… or at least, it hadn’t only hurt. There had been a good deal of pain when the god’s teeth pierced his skin, but that had been ameliorated by the heady thrill of feeling Lord Antony’s lips pressed to his neck. And after that, there had been a curious burning that reminded him of the sensation of swallowing slightly too much rum in one swig. But it wasn’t really unpleasant, especially not when it was combined with the dizzying sensations of the god’s hand in his hair and body pressed close to his. The restrained power he’d felt in that one slender hand had been incredible. Truly, the strength of the gods was overwhelming, and Hanyu had been more than happy to be overwhelmed.

And afterwards, when Lord Antony had licked his neck before bandaging it- Hanyu’s thoughts broke off into an ecstatic shudder at the memory of that slow, cool swipe of tongue, and he felt his cock twitch against his leg. At that moment, he had thought for sure he was about to be granted the honor of the god’s bed.

Hanyu had been awestruck when he realized that the god’s body was cold. There was no mistaking his touch for that of a mortal. And, as he thought more about it, Hanyu realized something dizzying and wonderful: he now knew more about Lord Antony than even the high priest. That old windbag wouldn’t even be able to imagine the ecstasy of sharp fangs and a cold tongue. Hanyu had been rock hard under his robe, imagining what other wonderful mysteries he might be made privy to that night.

Instead, he’d been banished to the sitting room.

No matter how many times Hanyu thought things over, he couldn’t tell where he’d gone wrong. As such, there was no point fussing over it. He’d just have to prove he could do better as soon as Lord Antony woke up.

He knew he wasn’t as effortlessly perfect as Asao, but that wasn’t any excuse for incompetence. He’d been trained under the same masters as his friend, and Lord Antony had every right to expect adequacy from him. He had a job to do. He needed to be pleasing and useful to the god, and whatever he’d done wrong yesterday, he’d simply have to find a way to fix it. It wasn’t anything he couldn’t handle.

Hanyu decided he wasn’t going to fall asleep, no matter how long the day had been. He had to be awake and alert when his master rose so that he would be ready to tend to any and all of Lord Antony’s needs.

It wouldn’t be hard to stay awake. So much had happened and changed and he had so much to think about that it would be impossible for him to go to sleep anyway.

ANTONY’S POV

Antony dreamed of home.

It wasn’t a coherent dream. He moved from place to place as soon as he thought of it, and his conversations were confusing and frustrating. The whole experience was overlaid with a vague sense of stress, as if he were taking far too long in a simple task. But even so, he sat in his mother’s courtyard, basking in sunshine that didn’t burn his skin and eating fresh bread with strawberry jam that he could actually taste.

As such, it was not only shocking but infuriating when he was awakened by a cavernous snore from the direction of his sitting room.

As Antony clutched his sheets and blinked in the darkness, the snore broke off. But it was quickly followed by another, just as loud. Good heavens, was that really the boy? Could he be that loud, even through the door? Surely not with human lungs. With fragile, fragile human lungs. A quick jab in half a dozen spots would slide through the ribs and puncture them easy as nothing…

Antony tried to count to ten. It was difficult, because around seven or eight another deep rumble would interrupt him and make him clench his fists against a fresh wave of violent fantasies. Had the boy’s blood really been all that good?

It had, and he knew it, so he kept counting and breathing deeply until he had himself firmly under control.

It wasn’t as if he needed much sleep anyhow, he reflected as he heaved himself out of bed. It was just that it had been a nice dream.

He crossed to his desk and slumped into the chair. It was awkward to maneuver his body into a seat that was bolted to the floor, but much less awkward than dealing with a chair that flew about his bedchamber whenever there was a spot of inclement weather. Once he was seated, he turned his attention to the maps and figures the human king had provided him with.

It seemed to be an awfully trivial situation. According to this information, the Surgish raiders didn’t have the numbers to attack more than a single small village at a time. And the southern villages were barely even worth attacking, situated as they were right on the cusp of the desert. No doubt if these raids had taken place on an odd year, the king would have dispatched a battalion or two of his own men to put paid to the rabble weeks ago. But why would he bother on a year when he would have the power of the ‘gods’ at his disposal?

Antony was inclined to be annoyed, but he could hardly fault the man’s logic. It wouldn’t do to let the desert tribes go too long between reminders of Tacia’s special protection. Anyhow, this request benefited Antony as well. A bit of bloodletting would be good for his crew. It would temper their treatment of the new offerings if they had an outlet for their more extreme passions.

Just a few days ago, Antony had given them all the same stern lecture he gave every six years, about the need to exercise moderation and make the new supply last. Since the communal stock was watched carefully, even when one of the vampires used an offering to relieve baser needs than hunger, his admonishment was directed mainly at Marcus and everyone knew it. This was further incentive to grit his fangs and endure the cavernous rumbles still emitting from his sitting room. If he snapped and broke his human too quickly, his war chief would never let him hear the end of it- and for an immortal, that was a truly daunting prospect.

Anyhow, Antony rarely killed his sacrifices outright. That didn’t mean he was sentimental about them like Theodora- he certainly didn’t keep them around. After they’d served their six years, he released them to general service about the ship along with the others who had completed their time in common use. Those who didn't find a new master worked in the galley, preparing food for the human residents of the ship, or worked to keep things clean, or did laundry, or were trained in sailing to man the ship during the daylight hours. Of course their blood and bodies alike remained at the disposal of the vampires, but they tended to live out their lives largely unmolested.

He’d never cared for the idea of an end-of-term feeding frenzy like the one his brother Titus permitted on his own ship. It seemed terribly wasteful. What if the day came when they ran low on fresh offerings and needed backup meals?

Antony’s reflections were interrupted when the boy’s racket changed form, snores giving way to loud, muzzy talking. Antony groaned. Shit. Was this going to last all day? He was tempted to wake the creature, but if he wanted to keep his plaything in good health, he knew he needed to permit him to sleep. Anyhow, as long as he was asleep, he wouldn’t be grinning.

Unless he was. Oh, heavens. Wouldn’t that be just like the irritating creature? Antony’s stomach churned with annoyance as he envisioned the boy smiling broadly between snores.

No sacrifice had claimed this much of his attention in centuries. They were supposed to be the perfect servants, flawlessly obedient and unobtrusive to the point of invisibility until they were wanted. Antony was beginning to understand why a shapely body and unusual hair color had not been enough to earn this particular boy a spot in the first row at the ceremony.

He kept working for several hours, calculating how many prisoners they could accommodate. He’d have to check his strategies for docking and attacking past Theodora and Marcus, respectively, but there was no harm in sketching out some ideas. He wasn’t accomplishing as much as he usually would have, however, since his thoughts were continually being disrupted by the cacophony emitting from his sitting room. Every now and then the boy’s snores and muttering ceased for a few blessed minutes, but it never lasted long enough to suit him.

Finally, there was another sound, which made for some nice variety. It was a soft rapping on the door to his chambers, then a voice calling out, “My lord? I have your attendant’s breakfast.”

There was a moment of silence, then another snore. Antony sighed. Apparently, the boy was a heavy sleeper, and he was going to have to answer his own door. At least this meant that he finally had an excuse to rouse the sacrifice and end the noise without resorting to violence.

Chapter Text

HANYU’S POV

Hanyu woke to the feeling of a toe nudging his ribs. When he blearily opened his eyes, he was met with Lord Antony’s cool silver gaze.

“You sleep very heavily, boy,” the god observed. “I see that voice alone is not enough to rouse you.”

Hanyu was instantly wide awake. His stomach clawed its way into his throat as he rolled off his pallet and into his bow. Unfortunately, his blanket stayed tangled around his legs, so he must have looked like a large caterpillar flopping at the god’s feet.

“My lord!” he gasped out, his throat still thick with sleep. “P-please forgive me, were you calling me long? What can I do- I mean, how may I serve you? My lord.”

“For your first question, no, I wasn’t calling long,” Lord Antony said. His voice was just as lovely as it had seemed last night, and Hanyu couldn’t resist smiling at the carpet under his nose. He was so lucky that he got to listen to that voice all the time. “As for the attendant that came to deliver your breakfast, he was knocking and calling considerably longer.”

Oh no! Hanyu jolted up to his knees, then remembered that he didn’t have permission to rise and dropped back down. Had the man already left? His stomach growled mournfully at the thought, and he wished he hadn’t been so nervous at the feast Father Shu gave the offerings right before the procession. If he’d been able to eat more then, the loss of breakfast wouldn’t seem so dire now.

Lord Antony gave an almost reluctant-sounding chuckle. “Relax, pet. I’ve got your breakfast. You can get up.”

“Thank you, my lord!” Hanyu breathed, awash in desperate gratitude.

Now that he was less panicked he could smell bacon, and his stomach roared its approval. When he lifted to his knees, he saw the god looking down at him with a raised eyebrow.

“Is it possible for you to do anything quietly?” he asked. Hanyu was still struggling for an appropriate answer when he freed himself from the blanket. As soon as the fabric fell away, Lord Antony made a small, choking noise.

“Weren’t you provided with a nightshirt or smallclothes?” he demanded, his voice rising slightly.

Shit. Hanyu had known he should have put on the fine satin shirt. But he hated to wear clothes when he slept, and he’d thought that since he’d been banished to the sitting room it wouldn’t matter. Clearly it did, and he ducked back down into his bow.

“I’m so sorry, my lord, please forgive me,” he babbled, feeling his pulse accelerate again. “I prefer to go without, was that wrong? Of course it was wrong, sorry, I didn’t mean to disobey, I-”

“For heavens’ sake, boy, take a breath.” The god still sounded annoyed, but his voice was level again. “I couldn’t care less what you wear to bed. Go nude, if it pleases you. But once you’re awake I want you dressed.”

“Of course!” Relieved, Hanyu pushed back up to his knees and risked a smile. “Thank you, my lord.”

“Your clothes are there,” Lord Antony replied.

He pointed at a chest in the corner of the chamber, half-hidden behind the fine velvet sofa. The attendant who’d escorted Hanyu to his master’s chambers last night had already showed him the place, as well as the room (really, more of a closet) meant for his physical needs. Nevertheless, he ducked a quick bow and thanked the god for his directions before darting to the chest, grabbing out some clothes at random, and retreating to the closet.

After pissing and washing his face and hair in the basin (the servant must have brought a pail of water as well as his meal), Hanyu took a look at the clothes he’d grabbed. Unfortunately, they proved to both be shirts, so when he slunk back into the sitting room, he was wearing only a shirt and some smallclothes.

Hanyu was afraid that Lord Antony would be angry, but the god only gave a deep sigh as he scuttled, blushing, back to the chest.

Once Hanyu was fully clothed, his master gestured him to the table, where he was already sitting. Antony obediently seated himself. It was difficult, since the chair didn’t move. He had to wriggle gracelessly to work his ass between the table and the seat, and when he finally sat it was with a heavy flop. Asao would have either laughed or despaired of him.

“Sorry, my lord.” No wonder his god didn’t want to fuck him. “It’s hard when the chair is bolted down.”

Lord Antony raised a silver brow at him. The expression was quickly growing familiar. “Would you prefer it if the chair broke your skull next time we encounter a storm?”

“N-no sir,” Hanyu squeaked. Why did he have to be so clumsy and stupid in front of his master? He was supposed to be impressing him and making up for yesterday’s mysterious failure. “I mean, no, my lord. Sorry.”

Instead of answering, Lord Antony pushed a wide tray towards Hanyu. It held a small pitcher, a glass, and a plate stacked high with bacon and fluffy scrambled eggs. Hanyu snatched up the fork, then hesitated. Was he supposed to wait for permission? He’d expected to be in the general servants’ quarters, eating at a big communal table like the ones back at the temple. He’d never sat at a table this small and intimate before, and he didn’t want to make another mistake. He stole a shy glance at his god.

“Oh, go on,” Lord Antony sighed. “From now on, just assume you have my permission to eat, drink, piss, breathe, take a shit…. Am I missing anything?”

Hanyu was a little taken aback to hear the god speaking so crudely. Unfortunately, his surprise manifested as a sudden, rather shrill laugh that verged on manic and made him realize he was more nervous than he’d thought. More unfortunately still, he’d already put the first bite of breakfast in his mouth. Half-chewed egg spewed across the table.

Hanyu was horrified, but even so, he couldn’t stop laughing. He kept hearing that refined, commanding voice saying take a shit and the gales just went on. He tried to choke down the laughter, but instead he just choked. Now he was coughing and hacking violently, and still laughing every time he managed to drag a breath into his lungs.

By the time Hanyu had himself under control, tears were streaming down his face and his voice was a ragged croak.

“S-sorry, my lord,” he rasped. “I just didn’t expect… it was so funny to hear you swearing, and I… oh gods.” Shit. “Oh! I didn’t mean… I didn’t intend any disrespect, swearing by you, I… P-please punish me for my failure, my lord.”

There was a long moment of stony silence from the other chair. Hanyu wanted to slip to the ground and bow some more, but with the way this day was going he’d probably break a bone on his way down.

“Well.” When Lord Antony’s voice finally came, it was dreadfully cold. Hanyu cowered in his seat, his stomach twisting into elaborate knots. “I hardly know where to begin. In the first place, you’re going to clean that up and do your best to finish your meal like a civilized being. In case you didn’t know, the food goes in your mouth and then you swallow it. In the second place, I’m glad you find me so amusing. And in the third place, I don’t care if you swear by us.”

“I just… it feels rude to use the word that way, you know?” Oh no oh no oh no, he was babbling now. The words poured out uncontrollably, even as fresh, miserable tears welled in Hanyu’s eyes and spilled down his cheeks along the tracks left by his tears of laughter. “I mean, it hardly s-seems fair, you d-don’t stub your t-toe and yell ‘Oh, Hanyu!’, my lord. Do g-gods stub their toes? Y-your toes, I mean? Is that-”

“Hanyu.”

“Y-yes, my lord?”

“Eat your breakfast.”

ANTONY’S POV

The boy- Hanyu, apparently- was crying into his food. Occasional miserable snuffles aside, it was the quietest he’d been since Antony met him.

For a few minutes, Antony luxuriated in the near-silence. He’d moved to the sofa and picked up a book, thinking he’d finally earned a little peace. But the longer he sat quietly, the more frequent the snuffles and sobs became. Finally, he subjected himself to a glance in the sacrifice’s direction.

Clouds had definitely come to cover the boy’s sunny face. His brown eyes were red-rimmed and brimming with a constant flow of fat tears. The tears slid down his cheeks and gathered on his chin, making his whole face shine in the torchlight. He lifted his fork and mechanically shoveled a piece of bacon into his mouth as two more tears squeezed out. It was the most pathetic sight Antony had seen in centuries, and rather annoying besides. What business did the wretch have, crying while he got to eat such a wonderful meal? Antony would have given a limb to pop a piece of that bacon into his mouth and actually taste it.

“Stop that sniveling,” he snapped, but the choked sob that erupted from the boy’s quivering lips made him suspect that this was the wrong tack to take.

Antony breathed deeply. He had to think of the blood. Remember the blood.

“I’m not angry with you, Hanyu,” he lied. “It’s just a bit of egg on the table. There’s no need to carry on like this.”

“It’s not-” The sacrifice dragged in a long, ragged breath. “My lord, I know I shouldn’t beg you to keep me when I don’t deserve to be kept. But please, please don’t send me away! Please punish me any way but that, I’ll be so good, my lord, please, I just want to please you-”

“I’m not going to send you away,” Antony interrupted.

He regretted it when the boy looked up at him, his wet face glowing from more than the torchlight.

“Y-you’re not?” he gasped. “Really? B-But I’ve done so b-badly.”

“I’m not,” Antony confirmed. “I’m keeping you, all right? So stop crying.”

“Oh, thank you, my lord!” The boy’s teary eyes almost squinted closed with the force of his wide, adoring grin. “Thank you, thank you! I swear I’ll be better.”

Antony was unsure how the sacrifice could be any worse, but he didn’t feel like tempting fate (or another meltdown) by asking.

“Finish your food,” he said instead. “Then put your tray outside the door.”

The boy obediently resumed eating. Antony had to admit that his table manners were flawless now that he wasn’t hacking his food halfway across the room. Apparently the temple had managed to pound something through that thick skull after all.

Antony would have preferred if that something had been respect, not pretty table manners. He was still a little stunned at what had just happened. The boy had laughed at him. In a thousand years, no other sacrifice would have even dreamed of such presumption.

He hadn’t handled this well. He’d been distracted by the disgusting spew on the table and, frankly, paralyzed by shock. If he had it to do over again, he would have loomed at the boy, maybe put a hand to his throat or picked him up with a single hand as a show of strength, and bellowed something like ‘You dare laugh at your god, slave?!’ He didn’t generally hold with such chest-pounding. As Claudia always said, if you had to go around telling people you were in charge, you weren’t actually in charge. However, insubordination like this had to be nipped in the bud, and there was no denying that a display like that would have done the trick. Probably the boy would have pissed himself, but there’d have been no more laughing.

Oh, well. It was much too late now for such a production, at least not at its full force. He’d have to save his threatening display for the next infraction. After all, he had six years to make an impression on the boy.

On Hanyu. Antony hated that he knew the creature’s name.

Once he’d finished eating and placed his tray as Antony ordered, the boy crossed to the sofa and dropped down at Antony’s feet.

“You’ve been so good to me, my lord,” he said softly. “Far better than I deserve. Please, how may I serve you?”

Antony was tempted to tell the boy he could serve by sitting quietly and not touching anything. However, there were more urgent matters.

“Your duties here are simple,” he said. “You will keep my chambers and yourself in order for me. You will not leave without my permission. Attendants will come throughout the day to bring your meals and take your chamber pot and dirty clothes. They will also take you abovedeck for exercise and sunshine. You are always permitted to go with them unless I have told you otherwise ahead of time or happen to be present and tell you to stay. Do you have any questions so far?”

“No, my lord,” the boy said meekly into the carpet. “I’ll obey.”

“Good.” Antony would be watching this one to ensure he did. “I’ll also continue to drink from you.”

“Oh, yes!” Hanyu jolted up, grinning that blissful grin again and tilting his head to bare his long, bandaged throat. “Would you like to drink now?”

“Not every day,” Antony admonished him, though he had to fight back a sudden, almost overwhelming desire to clamp his teeth down on that eagerly yielded offering. He grasped for something to distract himself. “This morning’s evidence aside, I assume you were trained at the temple. What are your talents?”

The boy perked up even further. “I excelled in reading and recitation, my lord. I also performed well in dancing, singing, and… intimate service.” This last was delivered in a slightly lower tone and accompanied with a flirtatious peek through heavy, dark lashes.

Oh, heavens, the creature was trying to seduce him.

It wasn’t entirely unexpected, of course. Most sacrifices were too restrained or intimidated to make the attempt, but some had tried over the years. However, those had been much more sophisticated attempts, all sprawled, bare limbs and breathy whispers of, “May I serve you, my lord?”. None of them had ever tried to seduce him simply by fluttering their eyelashes and boasting that they knew where a cock went.

Especially not after spitting half-chewed egg all over his table.

Antony was seized by a strange desire to laugh, but he quickly tamped it down. If he started to think of this boy as amusing, who knew where the laughing and spitting and disrespect would stop? He tried to arrange his face into a hard scowl, but was saved from thinking of menacing words to accompany the look by the sudden toll of the ship’s great iron bell. The sun had finally gone down.

Chapter Text

ANTONY’S POV

“So.” Antony tried for an offhanded tone. “What do you two think of this group of offerings?”

He’d grabbed his maps and papers and vacated his chambers as soon as the bell had indicated it was safe to go abovedeck. Sure enough, his two lieutenants were waiting in the conference room with their own bundles of notes and plans. They’d spent a few hours comparing their ideas and working out a complete strategy for dealing with the Surgish raiders, and Antony felt that some small talk wouldn’t seem strange at this point.

Theodora looked surprised, and Marcus grinned wolfishly. “Why, I think it’s the finest in some time. My boy is absolutely delectable. Fine blood, a sweet tight body, and the most talented little mouth besides. It was a struggle to leave my chambers tonight, I’ll have you know. It was terribly generous of you to leave me the pick of the litter this time, Antony. I’d suggest we withdraw so I could show you my appreciation, but the boy has me quite worn out at the moment.”

Antony rolled his eyes. “I might have known. What about you, Theodora? How’s yours?”

“He’s fine.” She shrugged her broad shoulders. “Polite and willing as always. A good boy. His name’s Kenta. He’s a little seasick, but once he’s feeling better I’m sure his blood will taste wonderful.”

“Is that really all the enthusiasm you can muster?” Marcus demanded.

“I'm not interested in them the same way you are.” Theo shrugged. "If any of them are actually women, they won't say as much until they've had time to get comfortable. That's what comes of demanding 'men' for the offering and then defining 'men' as anyone born with a prick."

“On average, the ones born with pricks have more blood than the ones born without,” Antony said for what must have been the ten thousandth time. “That’s what the sacrifices are for. Remember? Blood? Thick red substance, keeps us alive?”

“Hmmmm, but it’s only the tiniest part of what makes life worth living,” Marcus sighed. “I remember your boy from the ceremony, Theo. He had the most gorgeous little round ass, not that you care. What a waste. I don’t suppose you could be persuaded to share?”

Theodora’s eyes narrowed. “Touch any of my boys. Go on. I’ll pull off your skin and use your dick to bait a fishhook.”

Marcus and Antony laughed, Antony a bit nervously. His stomach flipped and he instinctively pulled his knees tightly together. He was suddenly even more relieved that he hadn’t done anything to Theodora’s human when he’d interrupted them the other day.

“What about yours, Antony?” Marcus asked when his mirth had died down. “I must say, I was surprised when you chose from the back row.”

“His hair is unusual,” Antony explained. “I thought he might be fun to paint.”

Marcus groaned loudly. “You two are impossible. You choose a gorgeous slave boy with years of training in service and pleasure, and you want him to be a pet or an artist’s model!”

“A meal,” Antony corrected. “They’re meals, Marcus, not concubines.”

“They’re both, and you know it, and your brother and sister know it too.” Marcus smiled. “Otherwise, why would you exalted three have told the priests to include fucking in their curriculum?”

“Claudia handled all those details,” Antony snapped, though in truth it had all been so long ago that the memory was a bit fuzzy.

“Regardless. Do you think your pretty little muse will finally tempt you to put that training to the test?” Marcus asked with a long, lazy smile. It was a familiar, infuriating expression, and it made a blessed change from all the beaming Antony had been subjected to for the last several hours.

“Heavens, no!” He was a little astonished at the vehemence of his own tone. “The brat’s blood is delicious, but he’s a damned pest! He’ll be lucky if I don’t rip his irritating little face off before the six years are up.”

His lieutenants blinked at him for a moment, then Theodora smirked broadly and Marcus barked out a fresh laugh.

“Oh dear! How did the little human slave manage to offend the mighty blood god so quickly? I have to work hard to get you this annoyed.”

Antony stonily ignored his chortling. “I can’t help wondering if the boy is off in the head. The only times he hasn’t been bouncing around with an idiotic grin were when he was snoring through the night or sobbing his eyes out into his breakfast because I scolded him. Scolded him, I might add, for spitting a mouthful of half-eaten food across the table.”

He wouldn’t mention the laughing. It was only in the last century or two that Marcus had finally stopped needling him for being too soft. It wouldn’t do to let his lover know what he’d permitted the human boy to get away with today.

“Oh!” Marcus laughed harder, oblivious to Antony’s thoughts. “Oh, no! Are you sure he’s quite housebroken? Oh, dear!” He collected himself, arranged his face into a haughty glare, and shifted his voice into what was clearly an exaggeration of Antony’s own. “Now remember, Antony, you have to make him last for the full six years. If you lose your temper and crack his head open before then, I’m not going to let you choose another. You’ll have to drink from the communal stock like everybody else.”

“Yes, all right, you’ve made your point,” Antony grumbled. “And I’m not going to lose my temper. If I’ve put up with you all this time, I can handle this human for six years. Now go fuck your new toy, I’m sick of looking at you.”

Marcus grinned. “I’d argue, but that’s too tempting an order to resist. Your wish is my command, my lord. Send someone for me when it’s time to go ashore, I don’t think I’ll budge from my chambers until then.” He swept a low bow and walked out the door, still laughing.

Theodora didn’t move. She was still looking at Antony, and he thought her smirk had an unusually kind edge to it. He suddenly remembered the nights, hundreds of years ago, when he’d crept to her rooms before dawn and she’d let him in and allowed him to curl up beside her on her bed and sob into her strong shoulder until he drifted into an uneasy sleep.

He shoved the thought hastily away and let his face fall into a scowl. He didn’t like remembering those days.

“Don’t mind Marcus,” Theodora said. “You listen to him too much. He’s wrong. You got a good boy.”

“Did I?” Antony snapped, hating himself for the harshness of his voice. He knew he was irrationally angry because her kindness was dredging up old memories best left alone, but he couldn’t restrain his menacing tone.

Theodora was, as always, unbothered by his temper. “Yes. I was going to choose him if you didn’t. He was fidgeting as he bowed.”

“Really?” That surprised Antony right out of his irritation. “Why on earth would you pick him because of that?”

“I always pick ones that seem to have some personality,” Theodora replied. “Your boy’s brimming with it.”

“An irritating personality,” Antony grumbled, and she shrugged, scratching at her crooked, many-times-broken nose.

“Does it matter? There’s fifty of us on a little ship. We’ve floated around together for a thousand years. We’ll be floating around together in a thousand more, the same fifty. We see the others now and then, but that’s all. Isn’t it good to have someone different around?”

“He’s not someone, he’s a human,” Antony objected.

“So what? He says things you haven’t heard and thinks thoughts you can’t predict. Can you say the same about any of the rest of us?”

“Hmmm.” Antony wasn’t convinced, but Theodora went on. He wasn’t sure when he’d last heard so many words at once from his reliable pilot and navigator.

“The priests try to train all the personality out of them. They want to make them subservient and silent. But I like to have interesting people around me. Usually it takes me years to find the interesting person buried under the perfect slave. It’ll take a few years with Kenta. But your boy’s too bright and lively to keep himself hidden. You should enjoy that.” She smiled and stretched in her chair, biceps bulging against the sleeves of her shirt. Antony wished he'd exercised more when he had the chance. Between Theodora and Marcus, he felt like a scrawny weakling. “I’d like to talk with him sometime, if you’d permit it.”

“If Hanyu can do one thing, he can talk,” Antony grumbled.

Theodora’s eyes widened and she sat up straight.

“Hanyu,” she repeated. “His name?”

“What else would it be?” Antony didn’t know what to make of her response.

Theodora’s smile brightened. “You learned his name! That’s wonderful, Antony! I never said so, but it scared me a little when you stopped asking their names.”

Antony blinked, dumbfounded. “What do you mean?”

Theodora got to her feet. “I have things to do. But I’ll say this. You may not want to hear it, but I think this irritating little Hanyu is good for you.”

HANYU’S POV

Hanyu had always known he was a terrible offering. He’d hoped that it was just his constant proximity to the effortless perfection of Asao that made him feel this way, but he’d always doubted that. This morning (afternoon? Time was slippery in the torchlit chamber) proved once and for all how futile those hopes were. Today he’d had no Asao to contrast his own behavior with, only the most basic standards of protocol, service, and rudimentary table manners. And against even those minimal standards, he’d failed more wretchedly than he’d ever imagined he could, even in his dourest imaginings.

After Lord Antony had spoken so coldly, he’d been sure he was going to be replaced. He couldn’t blame the god… even a human master probably wouldn’t put up with such a ridiculous display from a slave. But Hanyu had felt so unexpectedly wretched at the idea of being sent away. He didn’t want to lose the status of personal attendant, of course, but he also didn’t want to lose the chance to attend Lord Antony. He wanted to keep listening to his lovely voice and looking in his silver eyes. He wanted a chance to prove himself to the pretty god, not leave him thinking of Hanyu as some filthy half-civilized fool.

It had been astonishing when Lord Antony had said he didn’t intend to get rid of Hanyu. An overwhelming wave of gratitude and joy had crashed over him, and he’d had to fight a desire to throw his arms around the god and jump up and down like he’d do with Asao. It had also been hard work to keep back tears of gratitude and joy, though he fought them down in an effort to obey Lord Antony’s instructions to ‘stop sniveling.’ He was so glad to have a second chance to prove himself an acceptable attendant.

At least he knew his role now. ‘Keep the chambers in order.’ He’d ensure that the god’s rooms had never looked so good.

When the attendant came to collect Hanyu’s breakfast dishes, he asked for cleaning supplies. After a while, the man returned with a box of them, which Hanyu stashed in his personal closet. It made the space even more cramped than it already was, but he wasn’t sure where else to put the box so that it wouldn’t be in Lord Antony’s way.

Then Hanyu cleaned. He polished the wooden table until it shone in the torchlight and no one would ever believe that it had been splattered with half-chewed eggs. He polished the sconces, even though the heat of the torches hurt his hands and he worried that his rag might catch fire. He polished the doors, the walls, the frames of the paintings. He polished the legs of the sofa. He didn’t dare enter Lord Antony’s bedchamber without permission, but he polished every smooth surface in the sitting room until it gleamed as bright as the god’s eyes.

He’d just moved on to brushing the carpet when the door opened and Lord Antony returned. Since Hanyu was already kneeling, it was easy to drop into his full bow.

“Welcome back, my lord,” he greeted the god. “I’m so happy to see you!”

There was a moment’s silence, and Hanyu had to fight the urge to peer up and try to read Lord Antony’s expression. A bristle poked his forehead, and he realized he still had a hand on the carpet brush. Should he push it away? No, if his master had somehow failed to notice the brush, that would draw his eye for sure. Best simply to act as if it was supposed to be there.

“It seems Theodora was right,” Lord Antony said at last. “You really do fidget when you bow. I hadn’t noticed.”

Hanyu wasn’t sure how to respond to that. “… I’m sorry?” he tried after another silent moment.

“Why? It does neither of us any harm. Get up now, boy. And put that damn brush away.”

Hanyu rushed to obey. He skittered into the closet and dropped the brush back into his new box of cleaning supplies, then dashed back to where Lord Antony was standing in the middle of the room. Immediately, he was faced with a new problem. He’d stood in the god’s presence a number of times that morning, but he’d always been in motion, never directly in front of him. Now that he was, he found that he towered over Lord Antony. The god’s head barely reached the center of Hanyu’s chest.

Silver eyes glinted up at him, cool and contemplative, and Hanyu shifted uneasily on his feet. His stomach churned at the wrongness of looking down at a god. He wanted to sink to his knees, if not into a full bow, but the last order Lord Antony had given him had been to ‘get up’ and he didn’t think he should risk it. He hunched his shoulders instead and tried to look smaller.

Lord Antony squinted at him, then the corner of his mouth twitched. A second later, he burst out laughing.

Hanyu stood frozen in astonishment. As much time as he’d spent trying to make his friends laugh back at the temple while they were growing up, it had never occurred to him that he might be able to make a god laugh. Shit, it had never occurred to him that the gods laughed at all. Lord Antony certainly hadn’t given any prior indications of being prone to gales of mirth. Though he’d been wonderfully kind and patient he was still a lord among the gods, and a bit… forbidding.

But now the god’s shoulders were shaking, and he’d put a long-fingered hand over his mouth. His laugh was shaky and higher pitched than his speaking voice, and it was also the loveliest sound Hanyu had ever heard in his life. A grin crept irrepressibly across his face, so wide that his cheeks hurt.

“Oh, for goodness’ sake, boy,” his god finally choked out. “Stand up straight. I promise I’m not saying this to frighten you, but I’m over a thousand years old and I could rip you in half without a second’s trouble. Are you really afraid I’ll be bothered that you’re taller than I am?”

When Lord Antony put it like that, Hanyu had to admit that it was a little ridiculous. He laughed as well, unable to resist his master’s continuing chuckles.

“Well, all right, my lord. That makes sense.” He stood up straight, as ordered, and beamed down at his god.

Lord Antony’s laughter had subsided, but he kept peering curiously up at Hanyu. Finally, his lips canted up into a smile that was oddly small and hesitant.

Hanyu felt as if his insides had liquified. His bare toes curled into the soft carpet, and sudden inexplicable tears threatened. He wanted to keep doing things to earn that little smile. He wanted to kiss it right off those thin, dark lips. He enjoyed it so much that he didn’t even think to be excited that he’d made a god smile at him until several moments had passed and his heart had started beating normally again.

“Have you had your dinner?” Lord Antony asked at last.

“Yes, my lord,” Hanyu replied. He felt a tiny quiver of apprehension and darted a nervous look down at his god. His urge to weep for joy dissipated. “Was that all right? Should I have waited? I’m s-”

“What did I just tell you, boy? I have better things to do than spend every minute telling you whether you can eat or not. I simply wanted to be sure you’d had your meal before dousing the torches so you can get some sleep. The attendants will be taking all of you to the topmost deck tomorrow for some exercise and a bit of sun, so you’ll need to be rested.”

“Oh yes!” It would be so incredibly good to see the sun again, but there were other, even more enticing possibilities in that statement. “Do we all go up at once, my lord?”

“Yes, I believe so.” Lord Antony was already dousing the first torch.

Hanyu’s heart bounded joyously. He’d get to see Asao! And Gen, and Taiki, and Kenta, and everyone!

He hoped Asao was over his shock from the claiming ceremony. He’d seemed almost angry with Hanyu on their way to the ship, but surely that had passed when he’d had time to get used to the idea of Hanyu belonging to Lord Antony instead of him. After all, he belonged to Lord Marcus, the famous war chief, and that was nearly as good! Besides, Asao had never held grudges before. It would be all right.

“All right, pet, go to bed,” Lord Antony ordered, interrupting Hanyu’s thoughts. He saw that the god had doused all but one torch and stood ready next to it.

Hanyu’s elation deflated a bit. He’d thought that after making the god laugh, perhaps…

“Out here, my lord?” he dared to ask.

Lord Antony’s face hardened. “Yes,” he said. “Now.”

Hanyu hurried to obey, and kept his head bowed to hide the tears that started when the final torch went out, leaving him in total darkness, and spilled over his cheeks when the god’s door shut firmly between them.

Chapter Text

HANYU’S POV

When the attendant came to take Hanyu to the upper deck, Lord Antony waved him off without looking up from the map he was examining.

“Enjoy the day,” his god said. His voice was absent, but Hanyu felt his chest warm delightfully at the acknowledgement nevertheless.

“Thank you, my lord!” he chirped on his way out the door. “You have a good day, too! I’ll see you later!”

The attendant regarded him curiously once the door had shut. “You seem awfully… cheerful.”

“Of course!” Hanyu smiled.

He knew he was staring at the man, but he couldn't help himself. The attendant seemed to be in his mid-thirties, and handsome in a broad, tired kind of way. Most importantly, he was someone new, and very obviously human.

Hanyu used to be intimidated by older people. He was accustomed to spending most of his time with his cadre, and all the adults in the temple seemed so unfathomably old and authoritative that he had trouble thinking of anything about his presence that could possibly be of interest to them.

After spending the last… day and a half? Two days? Shit, time moved strangely with no windows… in close quarters with an immortal god, Hanyu found himself not the least bit intimidated by the attendant.

“What’s your name?” he asked, and the man smiled at him.

“Bunta,” he replied. “And yours?”

“Hanyu. Have you lived here long?”

“Since my own offering. That was two cycles ago.”

Twelve years. Hanyu would have been only eight, and to be honest he barely remembered that offering, beyond the sacred procession. Was that the year he’d lit Asao on fire? Either way, he was quite sure he didn’t remember any of the older boys who’d been sacrificed that year, and Bunta’s face was unfamiliar. He felt a little ashamed that he didn’t recall the man, but then, how many of the younger boys at the temple would remember him? In a year or two, would anyone in the city of his birth even remember his face?

That was a lonely thought, and he shook it away. He had a new life now, with Asao and their friends and Lord Antony, and Bunta was a part of that as well.

They walked for what seemed like an hour before a set of solidly carved wooden steps let them out on the upper deck of the vessel. Hanyu froze at the top of the stairs, overwhelmed with sensations.

After all that time in Lord Antony’s sitting room, the sense of open air all around him was intoxicating. He breathed deeply of the fresh sea breeze and relished the heavy briny stink of it. The breeze seemed to tingle against his skin, and it felt almost as good in his hair as Lord Antony’s fingers. Best of all was the sun. Its heat pressed insistently against the skin of his face and neck, and Hanyu wished he could strip and bask in its rays the way they used to do at the temple. Was that allowed here? He would have to ask.

Hanyu would have closed his eyes to savor all these sensations, but the sight laid out before him was too lovely for him to even consider ignoring it. It was a gorgeous day, just a few delicate puffs of perfectly white cloud scuttling across the sky as if they had urgent business on the other side of the horizon and had no intention of being delayed in their journey, and the dizzying expanse of the sea laid out glittering under the sky made it seem so much bluer than it ever had back in the city.

“Hanyu!” The happy cry jolted his attention to a place a little farther down the deck, where a group was standing and waving at him.

Hanyu glanced quickly over at Bunta, who nodded encouragingly, then he ran the few yards to join them. Oh gods- er, oh shit, it felt wonderful to stretch his legs and move!

It was even more wonderful to melt into the happy chatter of his friends, who stood in a loose cluster overseen by a handful of attendants.

“There you are!” cried Gen, pulling him into a hug.

Taiki ruffled his hair. “We were afraid you’d be too busy with Lord Antony to come mingle with the peasants.”

“Oh, stop,” Hanyu laughed. Joy glowed in him, bright as the shining sea, at their affection. He glanced around. “Where’s Asao?”

“Too busy with Lord Marcus to mingle with the peasants,” Daiji quipped with a meaningful leer, and Gen dissolved into a fit of giggles.

Hanyu felt a bit of relief mixed unexpectedly with his disappointment. He realized he’d been more nervous about meeting Asao (and Asao’s possible resentment) than he’d realized. He also felt a sick little twinge of his own jealousy- of course Asao’s master wanted his intimate service. If Lord Antony had Asao, he’d probably be too excited about fucking him to let him go for even a few hours, just like Lord Marcus. Instead he had Hanyu, and he had put him in the sitting room and probably been glad of his departure.

Kenta sidled up to them, breaking Hanyu’s melancholy train of thought. “Morio and Shinji aren’t here either. They were too seasick to leave their beds.”

“I was seasick, too,” Daiji confessed. “I almost threw up on the first god to drink from me.”

Hanyu cooed sympathetically, but in the privacy of his own mind, that made him feel a little better about his own slip-up with the eggs.

“So what’s it like?” Gen blurted. Taiki glared at him and he threw up his hands. “I’m sorry, but we’re all wondering. Someone was going to ask. What’s it like to be a personal attendant? We only see the gods for a little while, when they need blood, so we’re not really getting to know any of them. So, what are they like- Lord Antony and Lord Theodora?”

“Lord Theodora is very nice,” Kenta said readily.

Hanyu gawped at him with the others. It was a strange word to hear applied to the fearsome legendary goddess. Father Shu said that when storms brewed near Lord Antony’s ship, it was Lord Theodora who took the helm and shouted right back at the thunder until it was cowed and the storm dissipated. Father Shu had never said that she was nice.

Kenta shrugged. “She is! I really did throw up when she was about to drink from me, so don’t feel too bad, Daiji. I threw up all over her, but she didn’t get mad. She just showed me where to bathe and sent me to bed and didn’t drink from me until I was feeling better.”

“That is pretty nice,” Gen admitted. “She wasn’t angry at all?”

“No. I thought she might just be hiding it, because she’s so fearsome in the stories and she looks terrifying so I couldn’t believe she wouldn’t mind. But Hisao said she wasn’t faking it, and she hasn’t seemed-”

“Hold on,” Hanyu interrupted. “Who’s Hisao?”

“One of her old attendants,” Kenta explained. “She’s kept all of them! Even Chujiro, and he’s so old his mind wanders and someone has to watch him all the time to make sure he doesn’t leave her rooms and walk off the edge of the ship, so I’m sure she’s not drinking from him anymore. She told me it was her job to take care of us since we take care of her by giving her our blood and talking with her, so she’ll never make me leave if I don’t want to, even when she gets her next offering.”

Hanyu was pierced with sudden, sick jealousy. Lord Antony might have decided not to get rid of him, but there was no way he’d keep Hanyu once he had someone better. That was six years away, and not worth worrying about now, but it would be nice to have the same reassurance that Kenta had.

“Just… talking and blood?” Gen prodded, causing Taiki to groan.

Kenta blushed a little. “Yes. She only likes women for… that. But I don’t mind. She likes just talking to me, and she doesn’t talk a lot herself but she really does seem to be interested in what I have to say, even though I get awfully nervous chattering at her. Like I said, she’s nice.”

Hanyu was fairly certain that Lord Antony did not like talking with him.

“What about Lord Antony?” Daiji asked.

“He’s been very good to me,” Hanyu said unhappily. “He’s so fast and strong I can hardly believe what my own eyes are telling me. It’s thrilling! And he’s so beautiful I can hardly stand it. But I keep making one mistake after another. I’m afraid he’ll never let me into his bed.” A horrible thought occurred. “What if Lord Antony doesn’t like boys, either, like Lord Theodora?”

“It’s not that,” one of the older attendants put in kindly. “He and Lord Marcus are lovers. But he doesn’t ever bed humans, only the other gods.”

Hanyu wasn’t sure whether to be relieved because it wasn’t his fault or anything he was doing wrong, or crushed because there was no chance he’d get the god to change his mind.

“Now come on, that’s enough gossiping,” the same attendant said gently, seeming to sense his disappointment. “Let’s get some exercise.”

ANTONY’S POV

His chambers were blessedly quiet with the boy gone. Antony indulged himself in a nap, then started his preparations for tonight’s battle.

Well. It wouldn’t be much of a battle, considering they were going up against humans. Tonight’s slaughter, then.

He was sharpening his sword when the boy returned, which was as loud an affair as he might have expected.

Hanyu called a jaunty farewell to someone in the hallway- the attendant, presumably- then strode into the room looking irritatingly flushed and cheerful and radiant with youth and health. His skin had been wiped clean, but his hair was still damp with sweat, and his chest was still rising and falling more quickly than was usual for him. Antony couldn’t wait to eat.

The boy flashed him a grin as he sank to his knees and bent into his bow. “Hello, my-” His voice cut off and his head jerked back up as if invisible puppet strings had just received a hard yank. Wide brown eyes goggled at Antony’s sword.

“Hello, Hanyu.” Antony couldn’t resist one last stroke of his whetstone, a particularly slow one just to make the metal ring and the boy gawp- which both did, most satisfactorily. Once he’d had his fun, Antony set the blade aside, wiped his hands, and got to his feet. “How did you enjoy your excursion?”

“I-” The boy’s throat moved bewitchingly in a hard gulp. “M-My lord, what’s…?”

“This?” Antony gestured to his sword. “I told your king we’d drive off the raiders in exchange for you, pet, remember? We’re arriving at the captured villages in a few hours. A deal’s a deal.”

“Oh,” the sacrifice said faintly.

He seemed to realize he was staring and ducked his head back down. His forehead thumped faintly against the carpet, reminding Antony of their first meeting.

“Weren’t you expecting this?” Against his will, Antony was a little curious. “You were there when we made the agreement.”

“Well, yes,” the boy said. “But I didn’t… I don’t know. It’s strange to see you with a sword. My lord.”

“Strange?” Antony prepared to be offended.

“I guess… superfluous? You’re already so strong and fast, my lord. Why do you need a sword?”

Well, it was hard to be offended by that.

“I don’t,” he replied, permitting himself a bit of boasting. “Now get up, pet, and come here. I’ll be stronger and faster yet if I’ve just eaten.”

“Oh, yes!” The boy was stumbling to his feet, eyes sparkling.

Antony had never had a sacrifice who was this eager to be fed from. Did he get off on the pain of the initial penetration, or the lightheadedness that followed? Others had, but even they hadn’t been so fucking thrilled. It annoyed Antony not to know exactly how his actions were being interpreted.

Hanyu scrambled over to where Antony was standing and tilted his head, baring his neck.

“On your knees,” Antony instructed. “The last thing I need is for you to fall and crack your fool head open.”

“On carpet?” Hanyu asked incredulously. At the look Antony gave him, he gulped, added a belated, “My lord,” and dropped down to his knees.

Antony crouched beside him and carefully peeled away the bandage still guarding the little punctures from his previous feeding. They were healing beautifully. It was almost a shame to reopen them. Antony stroked the skin, a touch regretfully.

Hanyu moaned. The sound mixed with the heady scent of his sweat-touched flesh to destroy Antony’s faint compunctions. He leaned forward and sank his teeth into his boy’s sun-warmed skin.

The blood that flooded his mouth was just as good as he’d remembered. Perhaps better. This boy could spit all the eggs he wanted, Antony decided. It would be well worth it.

Chapter Text

ANTONY’S POV

Antony cast a glance across the little rowboat to his second-in-command. Marcus was grinning wolfishly at the approaching shore.

Of course, not every vampire could come on their little excursion. Theodora had to stay with the ship, and four others were chosen by lot to remain with her. Livius had put up quite the fuss until Theodora had shot him a quelling look and put an abrupt end to his complaints.

Marcus had not been in the drawing. There was no question of his remaining behind. The war chief needed a bit of bloodletting more than anyone.

"Now," he muttered, shaking Antony from his thoughts.

Antony gestured to the vampires in the other rowboat as Marcus slipped noiselessly into the water. One by one, all forty-five of them would desert the boats and swim the rest of the way towards shore. It would be tiring in their armor, but much quieter.

Once he was sure that the others knew to follow, Antony gestured his own boatmates back and took his turn at sliding beneath the waves. The cold water felt good, bracing and stinging, and Antony was glad that he didn't have to pull his head out of it for breath. It felt wonderfully peaceful under the salty surf, with little currents and eddies pulling at him and under it all, the powerful lapping swell of the deeper water.

This was so nice. He ought to swim more. Why didn’t he swim more? He lived on a ship, for fuck’s sake.

By the time Antony pulled himself out of the clinging surf, Marcus and his assistant Felix, who’d followed directly after him, were already draining the two sentries who’d been patrolling this stretch of beach. Good, the Surgish weren’t complete fools. They knew what was coming for them, and that it would come from the sea by night. That meant a slightly better fight.

“Didn’t save any for the rest of us, I see,” Antony observed.

Felix flinched, but Marcus didn't seem troubled. He let the corpse fall from his hands. It thudded, heavy and empty, against the sand.

“Come now, my lord, don’t be greedy. There will be plenty for all of us.” Marcus grinned, his mouth black with fresh, thick blood.

Antony couldn’t resist grabbing a handful of his war chief’s shirt and yanking him close for a kiss. He was vaguely aware of Felix turning gracefully away to give them privacy, the body of his own victim cradled close as a lover.

Marcus growled low in his throat as Antony lapped the hot blood from his mouth, then brought his hands up to tangle roughly in the smaller vampire’s hair. He bit Antony’s tongue just a bit too hard, and to his embarrassment Antony found himself stiffening against his lover. He laughed and pushed Marcus away.

“Find me afterwards,” he told the taller vampire. “That’s an order.”

Marcus’ fangs glinted in the moonlight. “Your wish is my command, my lord.”

When the rest of the vampires had joined them on the beach, they swarmed down the water’s edge. It was exhilarating to be really using his speed for a change, melting through the night from shadow to shadow with his horde at his back. Antony felt fully alert and alive, and for a heady moment he relished the strangeness of his existence. The speed, the silence, the incredible power he felt down to his fingertips like a strange inner light pushing at his skin, ready at any moment to burst free- in this moment he forgot to feel cursed, and instead luxuriated in the savage joy of knowing himself to be the apex predator.

Their prey had readied stone barricades and a permanent watch. He saw the torches of their fortress, and it was almost impossible to swallow a laugh. What did these puny little fleshlings think their preparations would accomplish? Surely they’d had word that the gods had landed and heard the request of the Tacian king. They had to know what was going to happen to them. He could almost taste their fear on the briny air, and he gulped in deep breaths for which he had no need just to savor it more fully.

By the time the vampires reached the fortress, it was a terrible struggle for Antony to keep himself in check. However, he knew that if he let his own composure slip, the others would snap in an instant. He forced himself to fall back and let Marcus take the lead, as was his right in battle.

Marcus led them in a circuitous route up the side of the makeshift wall. They slipped between the little wavering circles of torchlight and easily scaled the wall. No doubt the Surgish had thought they were very clever to use the giant desert stones, but the porous surfaces of the rocks were perfect for fingerholds. And when a fingerhold was all the enemy needed, their wall was less a barrier than a ladder.

Cries of alarm went up almost as soon as Marcus reached the top. By the time Antony surfaced, there was a bell ringing- where had they ever gotten one of those? It had been stolen from one of the Tacian villages, no doubt.

Antony batted away an arrow and took a quick glance at his surroundings. The Surgish camp had had time to become almost a village of its own, he thought. There was a fairly even mix of tents and little shacks, and firepits scattered everywhere. At a glance, he estimated anywhere between one hundred and one hundred fifty in the raiding band.

As Marcus had promised: plenty for everyone.

And there was Marcus himself, each of his hands gripping one of a screaming raider’s ankles. He was ripping the man in half, and taking far too long doing it. It bothered Antony a little to hear the tortured cries of his lover’s victim, but one could hardly fault a war chief for enjoying his work. Anyhow, it was high time for Antony to get a little enjoyment of his own.

Another arrow flew at Antony. He dodged this one, then followed its trajectory to try to catch sight of the archer.

There he was- a heavyset man, crouched atop one of the shacks. Antony glanced around again to make sure there were no other raiders too close to him, then started for the man.

His own speed was a delight to him. He gloried in the way his body hurtled forward, the lightness of his feet on the shifting earth, the wind of his passage. It took him only a moment to reach the shack.

Antony crouched and sprang, landing lightly beside the archer. The man reacted with admirable swiftness, swinging a wide kick at Antony’s ankles. Antony jumped easily over the swipe and got an arm around the man.

He didn’t draw it out. Unlike Marcus, Antony got no pleasure from playing with his food. Before the man had even finished swinging his leg, Antony’s hand was wrenching back his head and his fangs were buried in his neck, gulping ecstatically.

The archer made a soft, surprised sound, as if Antony had merely bumped into him as they walked down the street together.

He didn’t have time for more. Antony was not being careful the way he was on the ship. He was drinking the man down in enormous greedy gulps and making no effort to keep from ripping his throat. The archer was dead in seconds, and Antony shoved his corpse from the roof.

He scanned the ‘battlefield’- as he’d predicted, the word hardly applied to the charnel house below him. Gore streaked the earth, black in the torchlight, and all of his vampires were either standing still feeding or darting over the ground, fast as thought, in search of their next target.

Antony found his. Some brave idiot was making a charge at two of his band, Iovita and Messalina, as they bent over a shared meal. Antony flew at the man and swung his sword down, slicing his head easily from his shoulders. He ignored the heavy thud of the head and buried his face in the shredded red meat of the empty neck, which fountained blood in a hot, thick flood. The gore rained over him, splattering his shoulders and squirting into his face as he drank, steaming slightly in the chill air. Ordinarily Antony would have deplored the waste, but tonight he would happily have danced in it. It was a feast night, a night to glut yourself and keep going, a night for revelry and excess of all kinds.

Iovita looked up briefly from their meal, their face registering confusion, then understanding.

“Thank you, Lord Antony,” they said.

Doubtless Iovita and Messalina had been in no real danger from the human’s attack, but it was still nice to feel as if he’d rushed to their rescue.

Messalina grasped Iovita’s hand, pulling her lover after a new target. Antony licked his lips, cast about for a new raider of his own, and then hurled himself back into the carnage.

When the slaughter was finally over and he could barely move, he was so swollen from his own gluttony, Antony found Marcus in the wreckage. His war chief was slicked head to toe in gore, and his belly was distended tick-like from his own feasting, but the raider he held by the hair was still alive.

“What’s this?” Antony demanded.

His mind felt slow and sluggish. It reminded him of being drunk, all those long years ago.

“You’ll never believe it,” Marcus replied, his voice thick with amusement. “This one was disguised. It’s female.”

Antony looked again at the cowering figure. The tangle of matted hair in which Marcus’ hand was buried and the slight build were hardly unusual for the men of the half-starved desert tribes, but where the creature’s clothes had been torn, he could see a small but unmistakable breast.

Antony had never understood the tendency for many of the human peoples on this continent to bar anyone they saw as a woman from battle. True, he himself banned them from the sacrifice, but that was for practical reasons. He could think of no practical reason to keep them out of battle, but that didn’t stop the humans. This one must, indeed, have disguised herself. She glared up at him so ferociously, he wondered what kind of idiot wouldn’t want spirit like that fighting with him, no matter who possessed it.

“I’m bringing her to Theodora as a present,” Marcus continued. “What a laugh! After all these years, a woman for Theo at last!”

“Fine.” They had room and supplies for about twenty prisoners in the ship’s belly. From what Antony could see, they had actually collected perhaps fourteen. This… gag gift would hardly put them over their limit. “That’s fine. But give her to someone else for now.”

“Why?” Marcus’ eyes narrowed.

He always got a bit insubordinate after raids. Antony supposed his next order would hardly help with that situation, but it was a feast day and the blood of a dozen strong men was thrumming through him and the night air was heavy with salt and urine and gore and fear and jubilation and Antony felt like a wild thing, and he was determined to have what his wonderful, powerful scythe of a body craved and deal with any necessary attitude adjustments for his second in command later.

“Because right now you’re going to fuck me,” he demanded, low and throaty, and Marcus laughed through blood-caked lips.

“As you command, my lord.”

He shoved his prize at Felix, who was handling a prisoner of his own already but didn’t seem to have any trouble dealing with another. The woman was apparently too smart to make a break for it anyhow, and went quietly.

Marcus was on him then, blood-slick and as drunk on the night as Antony, making their kisses clumsy and cutting. Antony’s hands fumbled with his trousers, then he jammed a finger into himself. Blood would serve well enough as a lubricant tonight.

He stretched himself for a few heady minutes as they kissed, and Marcus was not so drunk on blood and power that he tried to mount him without permission before all their company. Not that most of them would have noticed- plenty had had the same idea as Antony, and grunts and cries rose from all corners of the ruined camp.

Finally, Antony pulled away from his lover’s eager caresses and bent over, bracing himself against the wall that had so obligingly granted them access to all this bounty.

Marcus did not hesitate. He fumbled with his clothes for only a moment, then slid into Antony in a single smooth stroke, and Antony shrieked his ecstasy and his delicious pain up at the stars.

Marcus thrust brutally, and Antony urged him on between his grunts of pain. This was what he had wanted, this roughness and mercilessness, the things one could always count on Marcus to provide. Marcus’ careless battering found his prostate occasionally, but only by happenstance- his war chief was hardly a doting lover at the most civilized of times, which these certainly were not.

Antony didn’t care. His hand moved frantically over his length, and he groaned delightedly at the churning in his overfull belly and the chill of the night air. He wanted to feel everything in the world at once- cold, heat, pleasure, pain, all of it. Still alive. More than alive- his heart might not beat, his lungs might not need to fill, but he was life, life in its truest form, twined tightly with death. Death and blood and fucking- all the things life was made of.

When he came, he howled.

Chapter Text

HANYU’S POV

Hanyu had meant to stay awake until Lord Antony returned from his battle. Truth be told, he was a little nervous, though he knew that was ridiculous. His god wasn’t in any danger. Still, he would feel better when Lord Antony was back in his rooms, grumbling at him. So he settled himself gingerly on the sofa and prepared himself for a long wait.

However, between the vigorous exercise of the afternoon and the heavy meal that was delivered shortly before his master’s departure, Hanyu’s eyelids were heavy. The hypnotic light of the torches didn’t help either… he stared dully into the flickering flames, thinking slow, heavy thoughts…

Hanyu woke to a hand shaking his shoulder. He had sprawled over on the sofa, his neck and shoulder bent at awkward angles, his arm asleep, and a puddle of drool collecting on the cushion under his cheek.

He wrenched his eyes open and blinked blearily up into the pale, drawn face of Bunta.

“I’m sorry to wake you, Hanyu,” the older man whispered. “And I’m sorry for entering without permission- I’ll be very grateful if you don’t tell Lord Antony. But you didn’t answer my knocking.”

“‘M sorry,” Hanyu slurred, wrestling himself into an upright position.

Bunta ignored his sleep-addled apology. “The gods are on their way back. I’ve got servants preparing a bath for Lord Antony, but it would be best for you to attend him when he returns.”

“All right.” Hanyu was more awake, but no less confused. The man was clearly very nervous- was it so bad to be in the god’s chambers?

“Listen…” Bunta hesitated and glanced around the room, as if Lord Antony might be waiting to leap out from a corner and shout ‘Boo!’ at him. “The gods are… strange, after a battle. Unpredictable. You must be very careful, Hanyu. No mistakes, and keep all your attention on Lord Antony. You must not miss the smallest gesture or movement. I've never heard of him hurting one of his slaves, but if he were ever going to do it, it would be a night like tonight.”

Hanyu’s blood seemed to chill in his veins. He thought of the strength in the god’s grip, the way that sword had dangled from his hand as naturally as if it was another finger. He’d always known that his master was capable of doing anything he wanted to him, but suddenly, that power and his own helplessness in the face of it seemed terribly real. Lord Antony could hurt him very badly indeed and there would be nothing Hanyu could do about it but plead for mercy, nothing to stop the god or lessen the damage, and it would take only a single moment of carelessness.

The carelessness wouldn’t be his, he resolved fervently. Tonight, even more than the night of his claiming, he would be perfect. He would permit himself nothing else.

“Thank you for warning me,” he told Bunta, levering himself off the sofa. “How long do I have?”

“Perhaps fifteen minutes?” Bunta said uncertainly. “I have to go now. None of us wants to be caught alone. Good luck, Hanyu.”

The older man pressed his hand briefly, then was gone.

Hanyu launched into action. He flew to the chest of his clothes and pulled out a filmy cloth of gold robe that he’d admired before. He draped it over himself, then retreated to his closet and carefully applied makeup from the case he’d found under his basin. He streaked gold powder over his eyelids and carefully blackened his pale lashes and the rims of his lids. He cleaned his teeth, then painted his lips a deep, bloody red. He affixed heavy gold bangles to his earlobes and hastily caught his hair in a fine gold net.

The priests favored simplicity for the dress and ornaments of the offerings, but Hanyu liked bright colors and things that shone and sparkled, and judging by Lord Antony’s apartments, so did he. Hanyu prayed he was right as he fastened a delicate gold chain, hung with tiny bells, around his ankle and scrambled back to the sitting room.

Just in time, as it turned out. Almost as soon as he’d settled on his knees, the door to the hallway swung silently open.

Tonight, Hanyu made no effort to peek up at his master before pressing his palms and forehead to the floor in supplication before him.

“Welcome back, my lord,” he said softly.

Footsteps, not nearly as light and even as usual, thudded across the room. Hanyu’s heart pounded inside him. He wanted to lick his lips, but his makeup was too fresh to be disturbed like that. He wanted to drum his fingers nervously on the floor, but he didn’t dare. He was frozen in place, suddenly unsure whether he would be capable of moving even in obedience to an order.

“Well well well, little pet, aren’t you fancy tonight.” Hanyu felt sweat prickle at his skin at the sound of his master’s voice. It was lower and rougher than he’d ever heard it before, and there was a strangeness to his tone that Hanyu had no way to interpret. He kept very, very still. “Get up, pretty little pet, let me see what you did with yourself.”

Hanyu forced himself to move. Warily, he pushed up to his knees, keeping his eyes respectfully lowered and his hands open, palms up, on his kneecaps. It was a flawless waiting position. Asao would have gawked and Father Shu wept with joy to see him so perfectly posed and deathly still.

The god was next to him now, and Hanyu’s breath caught because he could have sworn that no more steps had been taken. How did Lord Antony get over here? Hanyu knew he was fast, but- was he really as fast as that?

All at once, he was hit with a heavy, salty smell. It was the briny ocean and something else as well, something almost tangy or… metallic, a scent that Hanyu couldn’t quite place but which made every hair on his body stand at attention. His pulse jumped wildly in his throat.

“Pretty,” the god breathed, and that heavy musky stink was on his breath as well, and it was blowing directly into Hanyu’s face because Lord Antony was crouching right in front of him.

He didn’t dare look up, but he knew the god’s face was hovering only inches from his.

Despite his fear, Hanyu couldn’t restrain a shiver of pleasure when Lord Antony’s finger stroked slowly up his cheek.

“Pretty pretty pretty,” his master almost chanted. “I need to take a bath now, pretty.”

“Of course, my lord.” Hanyu’s voice cracked a little. “One is prepared for you.”

“That’s a good pet,” Lord Antony said in that same odd, frightening singsong. Hanyu decided against confessing that the bath had not been his doing. “Come along, little Hanyu. You’re my attendant. Attend me.”

“Thank you, my lord, I am honored to serve you,” Hanyu said.

He started to get up, but the god was resting one slender, fine-fingered hand on his shoulder, and it was like trying to stand with the whole ship pressing down on him.

“No no, pretty,” Lord Antony said. “On your knees. You’re so very pretty on your knees.”

“Yes, my lord,” Hanyu agreed readily, his heart suddenly pounding from more than fear. “Thank you.”

He crawled on his hands and knees through the door that had only been permitted to him once, when he was dragging out his cot in the shame of banishment. He didn’t dare look around except to find the door that led to the god’s washroom. He was achingly aware of Lord Antony walking behind him, and he wished he could tell whether his master was looking at his body.

He wanted him to be looking. Even if the god was strange and dangerous tonight, Hanyu still wanted his eyes on him. He tried to crawl a little lower, a little slower, make the bells around his ankle ring a little louder, and swing his hips a little more enticingly as he went. Unfortunately, he got tangled with his robe and ended up sprawling flat on the floor and knocking his chin on the threshold to the washroom.

For a moment he lay where he’d fallen, his heart pounding- No mistakes, Bunta had said!- but then he heard laughter from behind him.

It was the same high, shaky, gasping laughter as before. Hanyu could picture the way Lord Antony laughed, with one long-fingered hand over his mouth as if he wanted to stuff the sound back behind his lips, and all at once the great bulk of his fear dissipated.

The god was strange tonight, yes, wild and unpredictable as Bunta had told him he would be, and he was clearly capable of crushing Hanyu on a whim. But it was still Lord Antony, his Lord Antony. The god was himself, he was still in some level of control of himself, and even if his behavior was a little altered, he wouldn’t let himself harm Hanyu. Hanyu was sure of that.

Hanyu righted himself and crawled the rest of the way into the washroom, the floor of which was paved in marble, much to Hanyu’s surprise. The air was warm and heavy, and when Hanyu knelt up, he saw why. The center of the room held a metal tub- not nearly as large as the baths at the temple, but plenty large for one person- and the tub was full almost to the brim with steaming water.

It must have been near boiling when Bunta and the others had brought it in. Even now, the metal of the tub kept it hot. Hanyu didn’t know any words of gratitude that would suffice when he saw the older man next.

“Help me out of these, pet.” The order was accompanied with a soft thud as Lord Antony sat heavily on the edge of the tub.

Hanyu wasn’t sure what exactly the god wanted, but there was no reproof when he reached tentative fingers for the laces of his boot.

He worked off both of Lord Antony’s boots. When he glanced at his hands after setting the shoes aside, Hanyu saw that the skin of his fingers had turned a dull, rusty red.

He knew now what that metallic smell was. His stomach churned uneasily, and some of the fear leaked back into him.

His master’s hand (oh shit, the god’s fingernails were caked so thickly with blood that they were almost black) descended on Hanyu’s shoulder and urged him up with such careful, exaggerated gentleness that it was almost more frightening than roughness would have been. Lord Antony was clearly concentrating very, very hard on making sure that he didn’t harm his offering.

At the god’s indication, Hanyu untied the straps of his leather jerkin. Had that been his only armor? No, there was a sturdy metal plate set to hang over his master’s heart, and its twin rested in the same place on his back. Hanyu set those carefully aside, then set to work on Lord Antony’s thin cotton undershirt. It looked as if it had been white.

It wasn’t white any longer.

The god lifted his arms over his head, allowing Hanyu to draw the sleeves up over his hands. It was a strangely trusting, childlike gesture, and it almost distracted Hanyu from the flesh it bared to his gaze.

Almost.

Lord Antony’s chest was slim and dark, roped with small, coiled muscles and dotted and slashed with a surprising number of scars. His belly bulged in a way Hanyu hadn’t expected. His nipples were small and peaked and Hanyu forgot the blood on both their hands in an overwhelming rush of desire to lean in and lap at those perfect dark buds with his tongue. He swallowed down the urge and averted his gaze.

“The rest,” his god commanded, levering a little unsteadily to his feet.

Hanyu had hoped to hear that. He felt himself twitching and filling under his robe, and he knew the filmy fabric did little to conceal his excitement. He forced himself to ignore his body’s responses as he peeled away Lord Antony’s trousers, then his smallclothes.

In his nakedness, the god was more beautiful than Hanyu’s most fevered imagination had dared to make him. Even in his current state he stood with an easy grace that was nothing like the grace of Asao, who always made Hanyu think of a soft, lovely flower, and everything like the grace of the terrible desert cats that could leap on a man and drag him into the shadows before his companions had time to cry out in alarm.

There were more scars cut into the god’s legs, but not as many as on his torso. He was so small compared to Hanyu, but it didn’t feel like smallness, exactly. His size made him seem compact and efficient, as though every bone and sinew had been angled to take up only as much space as required, and Hanyu felt sprawling and excessive next to him.

His master wasn’t small everywhere, though. His cock lay long and thick against the smooth muscle of his thigh. It was only average in size, but it seemed disproportionate against the rest of Lord Antony’s compact body. He was perfectly soft and at ease as Hanyu perished with need before him.

Lord Antony turned with a flash of dark flank, ignoring his offering’s increasingly obvious reaction, and slipped into the water. He gave a soft groan as the salty seawater enfolded him, then ducked his head under the surface.

And stayed.

And stayed.

At first, Hanyu was too busy folding bloody clothes and fighting his own body to be worried. But the moments stretched, and the proud silver head did not reappear.

“M-My lord?” he ventured timidly after a long, anxious stretch of time… a minute? Two?

Nothing. The god stayed still.

Hanyu stood and wrestled with himself and tried to keep himself still. It was all right. Lord Antony wouldn’t live a thousand years and fight a thousand battles just to come back one day and drown himself in his own bathtub for no reason. He would be out any moment. He would… he…

The terror grew too great, and Hanyu snapped. He lunged for the tub and grabbed desperately at a brown arm, a pale head, heedless of the rusty water slopping onto his fine robe as he heaved his master out.

“Lord Antony!” he cried, his voice high and piping with panic. “Lord Antony, please!”

Slim, dark hands clamped on his wrists with a terrible strength carefully restrained, and his terror-addled gaze met confused silver eyes. He gave a strangled little sob of relief.

“Hanyu, what the fuck are you doing?” the god snapped, sounding almost like his usual self, and then he seemed to understand.

One of Lord Antony’s hands left Hanyu’s wrist to spread over his face, where it failed to hold back his gales of laughter.

Hanyu stood, bent nearly double over the tub and soaking, and felt his panic fading into embarrassment as his master laughed and laughed, still holding him firmly in place.

“Y-You thought I was drowning?” the god choked out at last.

Hanyu nodded shyly. That set off another bout of mirth, but finally Lord Antony released him, and he stood next to the tub, waiting.

“I don’t have to breathe, boy,” his master said at last, when he’d collected himself. “I can’t drown.”

“Oh.”

Hanyu felt terribly foolish. Of course that would be it. Why had he assumed what a god needed? Why must he always be so stupid?

“Well, it was good of you to try to come to my rescue, regardless.” His master grinned lazily up at him, and Hanyu could tell that he was still a little strange, still a little wild, but not as much as he had been. “Undo my braid.”

“Yes, my lord.” Hanyu hurried to obey, and he felt his pulse quicken again when Lord Antony leaned his head back into his hands.

“You’re a faithful boy,” the god murmured, eyes closed. “Take some of the green oil and work it in now. Mmmm, yes, like that. Good pet. Tell me, pretty pretty Hanyu, what would you have as your reward for saving my life?”

Hanyu’s heart leapt into his throat, and he found that his fingers were trembling as they worked in the god’s thick hair. Was Lord Antony making fun of him? Surely he must be, though the god’s voice was still dangerously raw and sincere. Well, if his master wished him to serve by being the butt of the joke, that was what he would do. He would offer his own sincerity, as the god demanded.

“I only want to serve you, my lord,” he said, and he could hear the aching want so clearly in his own voice that his eyes prickled with helpless tears. “To be near you. If it is your wish to reward me, little as I deserve it, I would ask to bring my cot back into your room. If you’ll only tell me how I offended you to have me remove it, I swear I won’t repeat my mistake. My lord.”

His tears were falling freely by the end of his speech, splashing into the ominously red-tinted water below, and his hands shook harder than ever. He pulled his fingers away from Lord Antony’s scalp, afraid that he would tear out some strands if he continued.

“You’re finally frightened of me,” his god observed.

Hanyu wasn’t sure what that had to do with his request. Was Lord Antony simply ignoring it? Well, that was his right. Perhaps the god was even doing Hanyu a kindness, pretending not to notice what a needy fool his offering was making of himself.

“I was, my lord,” he admitted, trying to drive the thickness of tears from his voice and knowing he did not entirely succeed. “You were behaving very strangely, and I wasn’t sure what you might do. But I’m not frightened anymore… or at least, not too much. I know you won’t hurt me.”

The god’s shoulders stiffened, though he didn’t turn around. “I’m covered in blood, Hanyu. I killed more men tonight than are in your entire cadre.”

“I know.” Hanyu’s words came out in a whisper. “It was your agreement with the king. You were keeping your word.”

“I liked it.” Lord Antony’s voice was hard. “I won’t claim to be more fearsome than I am. I don’t like to make them suffer either fear or pain. But I like the hunt and the kill.”

“You wouldn’t like killing me,” Hanyu said, and only as he said the words did he realize how certain he was of their truth.

The god snorted, and Hanyu couldn’t keep down a shaky grin. “Even if you wanted to for a moment, you never would, my lord. You take good care of your things, and I’m yours.”

Lord Antony was quiet in the bath for a long moment. Hanyu stayed behind him, still crying a little, but his tears were less raw and helpless now, even though his request hadn’t been granted. Instead of feeling desperate anymore, he simply felt at peace, and the tears were a release for all the powerful emotions that had been rioting through his body.

“I had thought before tonight that I would enjoy you being afraid of me,” the god said finally. “I didn’t. I suppose I’m used to your obnoxious ways already. Brat.”

The epithet was delivered without venom, and Hanyu received it with only a small, secret smile and more painless tears.

There was another moment of silence, which felt almost like hesitation, then the god said, “In particular, I do not enjoy that you dressed like that and made up your face out of fear. I don’t want you beautifying yourself because you’re afraid I’ll hurt you if you don’t.”

“That’s not why I did it,” Hanyu replied. Then, remembering his desperate scramble and determined to be honest, “Well, not entirely. It might be vain of me, but I like wearing pretty things and nice makeup. And I also… I wanted… I mean, I still want…”

Lord Antony stood abruptly, rust-tinged water cascading over his shoulders and drumming noisily into the metal tub. Hanyu jumped a little at the movement, but he couldn’t stop his eyes from travelling hungrily over his god’s wet, naked form as it gleamed in the torchlight.

“You are right,” Lord Antony said. His voice was brusque and flat and almost his own again. “I'm not going to kill you. So don’t act out of fear of that. Now get my towel.”

Hanyu sprang away to retrieve the length of fluffy cloth and handed it to his master, who dried himself quickly, then wrapped it around his waist and stepped from the tub.

Dammit, Hanyu was hard again, and his wet robes did nothing to conceal the fact. He flushed.

The god glanced at him, and Hanyu was miserably sure that he was going to comment on the protrusion at the front of his robes.

“You cry a great deal, don’t you?” he said instead.

“I do, yes.” Hanyu glanced at his feet. “Sorry, my lord.”

“Well, go cry somewhere else. I need to get dressed.”

Hanyu bowed deeply, half in reverence and half to hide his crestfallen expression. “Yes, my lord. Thank you for allowing me to attend you.”

One he was back in the sitting room, he stripped the sodden cloth of gold robes miserably from his body. Would the attendants be able to get the blood-stained water out of them, or were they ruined? He supposed it didn’t matter. The robes had disappointed him. He’d wanted more from them. He’d hoped… well, it had been a stupid hope. They’d told him that Lord Antony never bedded his offerings, and they would know. But when Bunta had said that the gods acted strange and different after a battle, Hanyu had thought…

He hadn’t thought that the god would kill him. He’d thought he would fuck him.

Stupid stupid stupid. Those rules would have been bent for Asao. Asao would have been welcomed into Lord Antony’s bed, a thousand years of precedence notwithstanding. For Hanyu to think he could accomplish the same thing was just ridiculous. His master must have been laughing behind the door, laughing at his stupid pathetic slave who stood there with his cock poking out and his ridiculous ugly face all red and streaked with tears of longing and-

“Well, don’t take all night,” snapped an irascible voice from the bedchamber.

Hanyu’s head shot up. “M-my lord?”

“Hurry up with that damn pallet,” Lord Antony demanded. “Or do I need to carry it and you both in here? I would like to get some sleep today, if it’s all the same to you.”

The cot was heavy, but even with its weight on his shoulders, Hanyu felt as if he was flying through the doorway.

Chapter Text

ANTONY’S POV

Antony felt wonderful when he woke up.

Perhaps that was the biggest difference between overindulging in blood and the long-ago days when he’d drunk himself to oblivion on the sweet wines and thick beers and heady golden meads of his homeland. Instead of feeling weak and sick the morning after a feast, he felt powerful and alert and ready to do just about anything.

Well, the afternoon after. Late afternoon, probably. They had returned to the ship dangerously close to dawn, and no doubt by the time he and Hanyu went to bed it had been well into the morning.

He glanced down at the cot next to his bed. It was a little strange to have someone there again. He’d always kept his offerings in his bedchamber, if only for convenience’s sake, but for centuries now it had felt no different than keeping his chair or his wardrobe in here with him.

Hanyu was no chair. He’d snored through the night again, and Antony had discovered that an immediate benefit of having him close was that he could simply kick him awake when the snores got too loud. There were doubtless other benefits, but Antony couldn’t think of them through the haze of unease he felt with the boy so near him.

He didn’t know why, exactly, but it felt dangerous to look down and see Hanyu tangled in his blanket, bare limbs flung everywhere and his face soft and foolish with sleep. Antony wished he hadn’t agreed to let the boy move his cot in here, but it was too late now.

He knew better than to offer open-ended rewards. He hadn’t made such a mistake in centuries, blood-drunk or not. But he’d been genuinely moved as well as amused by the boy’s panicked rush to ‘save’ him. The raw terror in his offering’s voice and the relief that had flooded over his face when Antony had spluttered out of the water alive… it had all made Antony feel as if he should give something in return for such intense feelings.

And if he was being honest with himself, he didn’t know for sure whether he could turn Hanyu down if he asked that way again, his voice so soft and desperate and choked with tears.

Anyhow, the boy had been elated. He’d actually sobbed with happiness as he arranged his blankets and pillows, stopping for occasional overjoyed, if watery, grins up at Antony.

Those grins hadn’t been nearly as annoying as they should have been.

At least he hadn’t given the boy everything he wanted. The invitation in Hanyu’s eyes and movements (and his bulging erection, of course) had been as blatant as it could be without a verbal request, and frankly, it had been a little more tempting than he would have expected. Luckily, he’d worn himself out first with Marcus. And Felix, and Julia, and Hilaria, and maybe Thaddeus, if he remembered correctly.

He slid out of bed and got dressed, then stepped carefully around Hanyu to get into his sitting room. He settled at his desk, pulled out a locked box, and carefully twisted in the code. When it sprang open, he glanced worriedly at one of the two sheets of paper the box held, then pulled out the other.

It was hardly even paper… vellum, more like. A relic. Detritus left over from another age, just like the spell laid on it.

Antony spread it on his desk, pulled out a pen, and began writing.

Dearest Claudia,

I apologize for my long silence. We just had our visit to Tacia and the king wanted some raiders in the south taken care of, so we handled that last night. Marcus caught a disguised woman among the soldiers and is planning to give her to Theodora as a present. I’m not sure whether I should have allowed it, if I’m being honest. There are plenty of others on the ship who would want a woman, and there are already grumblings about the way I let Theodora keep all her old offerings to herself instead of releasing them to general service. She’s much too valuable (and terrifying!) to risk angering, but this might have been a step too far.

My own new offering is a funny one. His name is Hanyu- he blurted it at me in the midst of a whole avalanche of panicked babbling. That’ll teach me to take from the back row. But he’s got lovely golden hair and should be wonderful to paint. I do still wonder whether the educational standards at the temple have gone down in recent years. Have you had any trouble in that regard? Nevertheless, his blood is excellent, and it will be an amusing six years, if nothing else.

Have you heard from Titus recently? None of my letters have elicited any reply for almost two weeks now, and I’m getting rather worried. I know he had accidentally killed one of his two remaining elves. Do you know if he managed to capture another? If not, we could arrange a meeting. I have four at the moment, and I would be more than happy to give him one if he’s still down to just one of his own. We shouldn’t waste any time working out the details.

I hope all is well with you. I miss you badly of late and hope to hear from you soon. The summit feels very far away today.

Your affectionate brother,

Antony

Antony watched the letters fade into the vellum, then picked up the other sheet.

He knew it was probably pointless. But he had to do something, and writing letters on this damned enchanted paper was all he could do. He retrieved his pen.

Dear Titus,

Write back, you idiot, you’re scaring me to death. I have an elf to give you, just send me your coordinates and Theodora will have us there before you know it.

Please reply.

Your brother,

Antony

He stared at the vellum for a long time after his own message faded. Several times he started to put it away, but he always hesitated… what if he locked the box, and then Titus wrote back five minutes later?

Damn his idiot brother and his damned idiot impulsiveness. Why was he always so wasteful about blood? It was bad enough that he was so lavish with his humans, but why couldn’t he at least be careful with elves? He knew what would happen if he and his crew couldn’t get any elf blood for too long. Why was he so reckless?

Antony’s dour thoughts were interrupted by a tentative knock at his door.

The boy’s breakfast had arrived. It must be nearly sundown. He stretched and put his papers back in the box, then snapped the lock shut and put it back in his drawer.

The knock came again, even softer than before. Antony was almost sure that it wasn’t going to wake his snoring offering. He went to the door himself.

The attendant who stood on the doorstep paled when he saw Antony. He dropped hastily to his knees, set the tray carefully on the floor, then bent forward into a full bow.

“M-my lord!” he stammered. “P-please forgive me for d-disturbing you!”

The man’s face and voice were familiar. It was his personal attendant from the last cycle. Antony felt a rush of… awkwardness, perhaps? It had been a long time since he’d felt awkward, but he felt suddenly that it was awkward to have his former offering delivering his new offering’s meal, and that he ought to remember the man’s name.

“Not at all,” he said hastily. “I was awake.” He hesitated. His instinct was simply to take the tray and go, but he felt like he really ought to say something more. “You are… settling well into general service, then?”

“Y-yes, my lord.” The man sounded confused, and a little guarded. “Lord Felix has been kind enough to take me into his protection.”

After the new crop of offerings arrived, those left over from the last cycle usually tried to attach themselves to one of the vampires who wasn’t high-ranking enough to have their own official personal attendant. It was a less formal version of Antony and Hanyu’s arrangement, where the human offered blood, service, and usually sex in exchange for protection from the other vampires on the ship. Antony would have estimated that two-thirds of the disputes he mediated involved these arrangements.

At least his former offering had done well for himself. Antony doubted he’d see this man at the center of such a dispute anytime soon- no one with a lick of sense would interfere with a human under Felix’ protection. Felix was Marcus’ second and one of the finest warriors on the entire ship. Despite all that, he was ridiculously kind and softhearted, and Antony couldn't imagine him being harsh to anybody. Felix also had a lovely long cock that curved deliciously to the left when it was hard, something Antony had been reminded of most delightfully last night. Yes, his former offering was in a very nice situation indeed.

“I’m glad to hear that,” he said, and he meant it. The man had served him faithfully for six years. He had been humble and unobtrusive and graceful and perfect, and Antony really did wish he’d bothered to learn his name. “It’s good to see you again.”

Antony stooped to retrieve the tray, then stepped back behind the door and shut it.

Perhaps he ought to wake Hanyu, he thought as he set the tray on the table. Then again, the boy deserved a rest after the terror Antony had inflicted on him last night.

He felt squirmingly uncomfortable when he remembered the fear in those wide brown eyes as Antony had loomed in his face, or the way the boy’s whole body had trembled when he’d been folding Antony’s blood-soaked clothes. He’d felt the same way in the moment and had been surprised at how much he disliked the sensation.

He had never gotten enjoyment from causing fear or pain, outside of a little bedroom play. Even in battle, he didn’t like the idea of making someone’s last moments worse than they had to be, and when it came to his offerings, well, it was irritating to share your space with somebody who goggled at you like you were some kind of dragon. But a little justified apprehension didn’t usually bother him this much, and certainly not in the middle of a blood haze.

He felt as if he’d lost something. Not something terribly big or important, but it niggled. He supposed that he would rather miss Hanyu’s untroubled greetings and smiles, annoying as they had been at first. It had been nice to have someone greet him with genuine excitement when he got home.

He left the tray where it was and drifted back into the bedchamber, where he stepped around the snoring boy and settled in his chair with a book. He had a lot to keep his mind off today.

HANYU’S POV

Hanyu woke a few times in the night with Lord Antony’s foot prodding at him.

“Roll over, or… whatever it is you do to stop snoring,” the god had demanded, his voice thick with sleep.

Through his own exhaustion, Hanyu had muttered an apology and complied, slipping immediately back into his dreams. When he truly woke, though, he thought back and smiled at how sleepy Lord Antony had sounded. His master must have been nothing short of exhausted.

Hanyu stretched, luxuriating in his new location. The god’s bed loomed over him, obstructing his view of most of the room, but he didn’t care if he couldn’t see it. He was in it, and that was all that mattered.

“I see you’re finally awake.” Lord Antony’s voice came from the other side of the room.

Hanyu sat up, then stood to look over the bed. His god was sitting in a soft chair next to one of several tall bookshelves, and he held a book on his lap. He was looking intently up at Hanyu, a finger marking his spot on the page.

Hanyu wasn’t sure what to do. Before, it was natural to fall into his bow when Lord Antony came out into the sitting room, but the god was looking right at him and it seemed rude to drop down to the carpet where Lord Antony couldn’t see him anymore.

“Your breakfast is in on the table,” Lord Antony said, still peering at him. “It’s probably cold by now.”

“Oh.” Someday, Hanyu vowed to himself, he would wake when the attendant knocked on the door. “Sorry, my lord.”

“I’m not the one who has to eat it,” the god replied.

He set his book aside and got up, much to Hanyu's surprise. Apparently, Lord Antony planned to follow him into the sitting room. He resolved his dilemma with a quick, clumsy bow, then turned to the door. He headed straight for the table, but his master cleared his throat loudly behind him.

“Put some clothes on, boy,” Lord Antony ordered. “We talked about this.”

“Oh!” Hanyu flushed. “Right. Sorry, my lord.”

He dressed quickly, then sat down to his meal. Hotcakes, sprinkled lavishly with sugar and drizzled in molasses. The kitchens must have wanted to provide all the offerings with a particularly nice meal after the gods had been so strange and threatening last night. Hanyu hoped that all his friends were all right.

The food was indeed cold. But it was still good, and he happily tucked in.

Lord Antony had folded into one of the other chairs, and he went on looking at Hanyu, who squirmed a little under his intent gaze. He didn’t think the god had ever kept his attention on him for so long before.

“Are you all right?” Lord Antony finally asked. Then, at Hanyu’s confused look, “After last night, I mean.”

Oh. Hanyu felt warmth bloom in his belly. The god was worried about him!

“Of course, my lord,” he rushed to assure his master.

Lord Antony didn’t look satisfied. “You were very frightened. I’m… sorry for that, Hanyu.” The words sounded awkward and unpracticed.

Hanyu was astonished. Why was Lord Antony, lord of the gods, apologizing to him? It felt surreal. He had to work to keep his jaw from sagging open and revealing a mouthful of hotcake.

“If I could do things over, I would send you to bed and handle my clothes and bath myself,” the god continued, his tone brusque and almost annoyed again. “You won’t have to touch my… soiled things again. I’ll leave them in the washroom tonight and give them to an attendant myself when you go to the upper deck in the morning.”

Hanyu swallowed hard, both to get his food down and to keep the lump out of his throat. He didn’t know when he’d been so touched by an offer.

“There’s no need for that, my lord,” he said softly. “I live to serve you. I was honored to attend you, and I’ll be happy to take care of your clothes.”

“I imagine ‘happy’ is overstating it a bit,” the god snapped.

“All right, then, I don’t mind.” Hanyu knew it was improper, but he strained to catch Lord Antony’s eye. He wanted his master to see his sincerity. “Truly, my lord, it’s all right. I know that my people live peacefully because of your protection from the desert savages. I’m grateful.”

Lord Antony stood. “Don’t be contrary. I’m going out now, and when I return I expect things in the washroom to look exactly the same as they do now.”

Hanyu bowed his head in acquiescence. He wasn’t afraid the way he’d been last night, but that didn’t mean he was interested in disobeying direct orders.

Especially when he thought of that small, forced apology. Lord Antony was breaking habits for him, he was almost certain. Who knew? Perhaps he’d be able to convince his master to break other habits, too.

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ANTONY’S POV

Antony stomped up towards the deck and told himself it didn’t matter that he’d just apologized to his offering.

It didn’t have to mean anything. Hanyu was his, and he could do as he pleased with him. Goodness knew the others did. So what if his impulse was to apologize rather than demand a blowjob or issue a punishment? He was still indulging his own whims, and if his whim was different than what he expected, well, that was the nature of a whim, wasn’t it?

Anyhow, it hadn’t been public. What he did in his own damn rooms was his own damn business. His authority had not been undermined.

His thoughts were interrupted by a clatter of feet from behind. Antony whipped around, only to see Marcus hurtling himself at him with a grin plastered across his face and the woman from last night stumbling to keep up with him. Her wrists were tightly bound, the end of the rope clutched in Marcus’ hand. She’d been moderately cleaned up, at least to the point that one could see her rough, pointed face through the tangle of her hair, and she was wearing an offering’s white robe, of all things.

“Annie, there you are!” Marcus cried. The woman barely had time to dig in her heels and keep herself from toppling over when her captor stopped. “I was just about to go surprise Theo at the wheel. Care to come along?”

Antony sighed. “Oh, all right.”

He still rather wished he hadn’t allowed this, but it was too late to take his permission back now. He might as well watch the show.

As usual, Theodora was indeed stationed at the wheel of the ship. She had her new boy with her and was gesturing to the nearest set of sails and speaking to him in a low tone while he nodded, wide-eyed.

Ah yes, the other reason Antony let her keep all her offerings. She trained them to steer and navigate during daylight hours.

“… not sure about something, then for goodness’ sake ask,” she was saying as they drew closer. “I don’t care whether you ask me or Hisao or one of the others, but don’t just guess. We won’t be annoyed with you, no matter how basic the question or how many times you have to ask it. What matters is that I don’t want to stand here and try to explain to those two why they shouldn’t brain you after you’ve run us aground.”

This last was accompanied with a gesture at Marcus and Antony. The boy whipped his head up, then dropped gracefully to the deck in a perfect bow. Hanyu could have taken lessons from him.

“To what do I owe the pleasure?” Theodora asked without looking up from the chart she had spread in front of her.

“Now, now, lovely Theo, queen of my heart, is that any way to be when someone comes bearing gifts?” Marcus laughed.

She finally looked up, annoyed. Then her annoyance died into confusion as she caught sight of the woman scowling and trembling at the end of Marcus’ rope.

“What’s this?” she demanded.

“Why, my darling!” Marcus was clearly enjoying the chance to bloviate with the knowledge that, for once, she wouldn’t interrupt him. “When we were ashore last night… well, I saw this and it was so you, I just had to pick it up.”

“She was in disguise,” Antony added. “Fighting with the other raiders. She might be dangerous to your other pets, if not to you.”

“Allow me to alleviate that worry.” Marcus spread his arms and glanced meaningfully down at the still, prostrate form of Theodora’s new offering. “I’d like to propose a trade, Theo. You obviously don’t have any intention of fucking this lovely little morsel as he’s meant to be fucked, so why don’t I take him off your hands?”

Theodora’s expression, which had been uncharacteristically open and wanting, slammed shut so fast Antony could almost hear the click. “No.”

“Come now, Theo, that boy’s of no more interest to you than a cold mackerel and we all know it,” Marcus argued, gesturing to the small crowd they’d drawn. “You have half a dozen that you can use in exactly the same way you use him. This woman is special. It’s been years since we’ve had one, and it’ll be years before we have another.”

“Kenta’s special, too.” Theodora’s voice was firm. “All of my offerings are precious to me, Marcus. Something doesn’t have to make my cunt wet to have value, luckily for you.”

“Right, of course, you like talking with them.” Marcus waved a hand dismissively. “But I wonder, who would be more interesting to talk with? A desert fighter who disguised herself as a man to participate in raids, or some milquetoast hothouse flower pampered in the same temple that’s pampered all your other pets for a thousand years?”

Antony glanced down at the boy. He’d kept his position perfectly, but Antony could see that the poor thing’s whole body was shaking.

“Come now, Theo, don’t be tiresome.” Marcus reached down a hand to grab the boy.

Theodora moved to stop him, but Antony moved faster. He had his lover’s wrist in a tight grip before he could lay a finger on the trembling form.

“Kenta, stand up and get behind me,” Theodora ordered grimly, just as Marcus turned furious eyes on Antony.

“What the fuck, Antony?” he demanded.

“You know the penalty for touching someone else’s human without permission,” Antony replied coldly. “I didn’t feel like tying you to the mast and flogging you raw tonight, so I thought I’d save us both the aggravation.”

“You wouldn’t dare,” Marcus hissed.

Antony wanted to freeze with disbelief, to wonder if he’d misheard his second, but his body was already moving. He grabbed Marcus’ other wrist and glared up at the taller vampire.

“Care to repeat that, war chief?” he asked. He was proud of how icy and calm his voice came out when his brain was still reeling.

Marcus glared down at him, and Antony glared right back.

This was not a secret apology in his own room. This was public defiance, in front of a good third of the crew. Softness might be permissible in the first instance. Not this one. Now that he was faced with this, the difference between the two showed stark and clear.

“I said, you wouldn’t fucking dare,” Marcus snarled, loud enough for everyone to hear this time.

It had been centuries since Marcus had tried to pull this kind of shit. Antony had thought his lover had… what, outgrown it? Changed? Not fucking likely. He’d been an idiot to hope otherwise. Antony felt a sudden, deep weariness.

This was how it was always going to be, wasn’t it? The same fights and clashes, over and over, until the end of time.

“Please, my lord, I’m sure Marcus didn’t mean it.” Felix’s voice cut in, as cool and professional as if they hadn’t all been balls-deep in each other just last night. “We are all simply wound up from last night’s feast. The war chief would never defy you or resist your just punishments, my lord.”

Antony glanced around. Felix had moved in and placed a hand on his chief’s shoulder, his head inclined respectfully in Antony’s direction. Theodora was standing with her feet apart and her fists ready, her boy clinging to the back of her shirt like a creeper vine. The ten or fifteen vampires who’d gathered were all glaring at Marcus- there were few crimes to equal going after someone else’s human. The crowd was Antony’s.

Marcus must have read their surroundings similarly, because he relaxed under Antony’s hands instead of tearing himself from the smaller vampire’s grip, which they both knew he could have done without too much trouble. He dropped his furious gaze, then sank heavily to one knee, pressing a hand to his heart. The woman made a soft, choked noise and bent nearly double as the rope dragged her head down.

“Forgive me, my lord. It was not my intention to question your authority,” Marcus said steadily.

Gratifying as his penitence might have been, Antony wasn’t fool enough to believe it, nor could he let such a public show of defiance go unpunished.

“Give me the rope, war chief,” he commanded. “I gave you permission to give this captive as a gift, not use her for extortion.”

Meekly, Marcus surrendered the rope. Antony knew there would be hell to pay for this later, but he took it and tugged gently, drawing the woman closer. Then he held the end of the rope out to Theodora on a flat palm. The boy Kenta flinched and ducked his head behind her shoulder at his movement.

“She’s yours, if you want her, Theodora,” he said. “If not, I’ll put her with the rest of the prisoners from the raid.”

“I’ll take her.” Theodora accepted the rope and inclined her head. “Thank you, Lord Antony. Thank you, Marcus. You were kind to think of me.”

Inwardly, Antony blessed her for doing what she could to smooth over the situation and soothe his war chief’s injured pride. Externally, he merely nodded and turned on his heel.

It had been a short time to be out of his chambers, but if anyone needed him for the rest of the night, they’d send a servant. He wouldn’t rub salt in Marcus’ wounds by hanging around. More than that, he felt an overwhelming urge to hide away and check to see if either of his siblings had written him back.

When he dragged himself through the door, feeling more drained than if he’d been hard at work for a whole night, Hanyu looked up from the bit of carpet he was brushing and grinned, huge and thrilled, before folding clumsily into his bow.

Antony felt all the knots in his body loosen. So, there was at least one thing that he hadn’t fucked up.

Yet.

He’d keep it that way, if he could. He did his best to let go of all his anger and tension and keep only the weariness. Marcus might be taking the fight out on his offering right now, poor creature, but Theodora wouldn’t approve of such behavior, and right now Antony liked Theodora better. He’d do what she would do. He’d try his best to be kind to Hanyu today.

If he even remembered how.

HANYU’S POV

Lord Antony looked pissed and tired when he came through the door. His obvious sour mood made Hanyu a little nervous, but he was still glad to have an excuse to stop brushing the carpet. How could a person tell when a carpet was properly brushed, anyway?

“Um, my lord?” Hanyu hated to bring it up, but it would be worse if he didn’t and Lord Antony saw the washroom before he could explain. “I know you said you wanted the washroom to be the way it was when you left, but it’s not. I swear I didn’t touch the clothes, or anything else! But Bunta and some of the other attendants came and emptied the tub and wiped things up, and they took the clothes, and I didn’t know if I should let them but I then thought that things might start to smell and so please don’t be angry at me. Or Bunta. Or anyone, really. I just-”

“It’s fine, Hanyu.” His master really did sound worn out. “That’s just fine. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“Oh good!” Hanyu smiled into the carpet, relieved.

It was good he wasn’t in trouble, because he’d forgotten everything he’d been trained to say when he was. He wasn’t supposed to chatter and say ‘Please don’t be angry at me.’ In fact, the correct line was ‘Please punish me for my failure.’ He’d just have to remember next time.

Probably there would be a next time.

He lay still as the god stepped past him to the big wooden desk in one corner of the sitting room. He heard a drawer opening, a metallic clanking, then a heavy sigh from his master. The drawer shut again.

“Raise your head,” Lord Antony said. When Hanyu sat up and spun to face the god, he saw that his master looked just as unhappy as he’d sounded.

“Are you all right, my lord?” he asked.

Perhaps it was a presumptuous question to ask a god, but what else did one ask when somebody looked like that?

“Yes, I am.” Lord Antony rubbed the back of his neck. “How were you in your music lessons? I could do with a bit of playing. I’m afraid I’ve only got a flute, a fiddle, and a zither at the moment. Damp ships aren’t the best for instruments, I’m afraid. I have to switch them and my books out fairly often. It’s a slim selection, but which is your favorite out of those?”

Clearly, he was as musical as the priests always said. Hanyu blushed. “Umm… I’ll try, my lord, but I’m not very good at any of those.”

“I’ll be the judge of that. Wait here.” Hanyu knelt miserably as the god moved around the chambers, grabbing cases and piling them beside the sofa with careful hands. Finally, Lord Antony settled on the sofa and patted the spot next to him. He was smiling, clearly excited. “Come on, boy! It’s a concert, not a funeral. Don’t look so dour.”

“Sorry, my lord.” Hanyu dragged himself to the sofa and tried to squeeze up a smile.

“Fuck, never mind.” The god frowned. “You couldn’t fake an expression to save your life, could you?”

“Probably not, my lord.” Hanyu settled on the sofa.

Under any other circumstances, this would feel wonderfully intimate. As it was, he was about to crush all his master’s hopes for a pleasant afternoon and show himself to be incompetent at a pursuit the god clearly cared a great deal about. If only he’d known this day would come! He would have worked so much harder at his music lessons if he’d ever dared to dream that he would be Lord Antony’s chosen.

Dammit. He was going to be thrown out of the bedchamber again for sure.

“Let’s try the fiddle first,” the god urged, handing him the instrument and the bow with almost reverential care. “I could do with something cheerful.”

Hanyu breathed deeply. So what if he’d never managed it before? He’d still had the lessons. The knowledge was there. He’d just never had proper motivation before. Now he had a very powerful motivator sitting across from him on this plush velvet sofa, silver eyes alight with anticipation.

Music was clearly the way to win his master’s favor, and that was what Hanyu craved more than anything else in the world. He would play as he’d never played before. He exhaled, thought of the perfect jaunty tavern song, and lifted the bow to the strings.

Lord Antony’s face fell almost as soon as the creaking, squeaking music began. The god quickly rearranged his expression into one of polite interest, but Hanyu had seen his disappointment, and nerves turned all his fingers into thumbs. He barely managed to scrape miserably to the end of the tune.

“All right, so the fiddle isn’t your best,” Lord Antony said, hastily reclaiming his instrument and locking it back in its case. “The zither, then?”

The zither went no better. Finally, the god proffered his flute.

It was a gorgeous instrument, made of a bright metal and clearly well-cared for. Little etchings of some unfamiliar flower circled the flute, almost worn away by the passing of more years than he could even comprehend. Hanyu felt a swell of reluctance to sully the bright, lovely thing with his touch.

“This is my favorite,” Lord Antony said softly. “I’ve had it for… shit, it’s been almost a thousand years. Be careful with it.”

Hanyu felt tears spring to his eyes. “My lord, please, I’m no better with flutes than any other instrument. I’m so so sorry to disappoint you, but this will be just as bad as the others.”

“All right, all right.” Lord Antony withdrew the flute. “For goodness’ sake, boy, there’s no reason to blubber over it!”

“I just… I never thought you’d choose me, my lord, not even once, and so when Father Shu said you loved music I never thought it would matter if I learned it, and I didn’t have any talent so I thought ‘Why bother?’ and now I… please punish me for my failure!” Hanyu snuffled miserably. He wiped his nose on his sleeve, which elicited a cry of protest from the god.

“Don’t-! Ugh. Never mind.” Lord Antony sighed. “You didn’t fail, boy. You can hardly be expected to be an expert in everything after only- twenty years?”

“Twenty-one.”

“Well then.” Lord Antony looked down at the gleaming flute he still held in his hand. “You know, this is just as well. I don’t imagine that listening to music would do nearly as much for my mood as playing it.”

The god lifted the flute to his lips, then hesitated and lowered it. “Feel free to move around the chambers and do as you wish. Just don’t make too much noise, if you can help it.”

When his master began to play, Hanyu couldn’t have left his place at his side even if he’d wanted to. The flute’s tones were high and bright and piercing as a star. Despite his requests for cheerful tunes, Lord Antony began playing a song slow and mournful enough to be a dirge, but so beautiful that it brought fresh tears to Hanyu’s eyes. And best of all was the god’s face as he played.

Lord Antony’s eyes had slid closed as soon as he began, and if it weren’t for the puffing of his cheeks and the more-than-mortal speed with which his elegant fingers flew over the instrument, Hanyu might have thought he was asleep. As it was, he simply looked peaceful, almost relaxed.

Hanyu might have been a failure in every way, the worst offering on the ship or in his master’s recent memory. But as the song washed over him, he was still so grateful to be the one who got to see the timeless god, so tense and irascible and weighed down with a hundred ancient cares, playing music with the simple pleasure of a child.

Probably Asao would find the thought blasphemous.

Chapter Text

Check out this beautiful picture of Antony and Hanyu from Kalibones:

https://twitter.com/Iyozero/status/1216414280322437120

AAAAAA I love it so much! I've just been staring for a good half an hour, and I had to share! <3

I just cannot get over Antony's face: "I'll bet you're all wondering how I got here." xD

Chapter Text

HANYU’S POV

When Hanyu joined his cadre on the upper deck, Kenta made a beeline for him.

“Hanyu!” he cried, grabbing him by the shoulders and looking him over. “Are you all right?”?

“Yes?” Hanyu blinked at his friend. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Lord Antony and Lord Marcus had a fight last night… they were both so angry when they went back to their rooms!” Kenta looked up, his face pale. “I thought… well, Lord Antony didn’t… hurt you?”

“No, not at all!” So that was why he’d been so pissed off and worn out! “He was even kinder than usual, in fact. He felt bad about scaring me after the battle.”

“What was that like?” Taiki put in. “Lord Theodora and the other gods who stayed behind on the ship put all the unattached attendants in our quarters with us and then barricaded the door. We didn’t see anyone!”

“I want to hear about the fight,” Hanyu deferred. He didn’t feel quite ready to describe the strangeness and terror of that night. “You were there, Kenta?”

Kenta gave a little shudder. “It was about me, actually. Lord Marcus had caught a woman in the battle, and he wanted to trade her to Lord Theodora. For me.”

Kenta looked like he was still a little shaken by the idea, and Hanyu wondered why. He knew his friend liked belonging to Lord Theodora, but belonging to Lord Marcus would technically be a step up, wouldn’t it? And he would get to be with Asao!

“I was so afraid she’d agree,” Kenta said softly. “Lord Marcus made some… valid points about why it would be a good deal for her. But she didn’t, and then Lord Antony kept Lord Marcus from touching me, and they fought, and-”

Kenta’s voice was cut off by Daiji crying out, “Asao!”

Hanyu whirled. Sure enough, there was his friend, gliding towards them with an attendant at his side.

Hanyu broke and ran. He knew Asao wouldn’t approve of the lack of decorum, but he couldn’t help it. He charged over to his friend and grabbed him in a hug.

“Asao!” he cried. “I’m so happy to see you! How have you-?”

Asao gave a soft, pained grunt. Oh shit, I’m smashing him! Hanyu let go and stepped back.

“I’m so sorry! Are you all right?”

He checked his friend over, and had to stifle a cry of horror at the same time that Asao said, “Yes, of course I am.”

Asao was pale, even paler than Hanyu would have expected from a week without the sun, and he had dark circles under his eyes. His neck wasn’t bandaged where his god had drunk from him, and the puncture wounds were jagged and red. Given the noise he’d made, Hanyu wondered if he was bruised under his fine clothes.

“Asao!” The others had joined them. Kenta rushed up and grabbed his hands. “Was Lord Marcus rough with you last night? I’m so, so sorry-”

“It’s fine,” Asao said, cutting off the other boy’s apology. “I’m sure Hanyu got it just as bad. Personal service is an honor, but it has its downsides, doesn’t it?” He smiled wanly and put a hand on Hanyu’s shoulder and one on Kenta’s. “You both know what I mean. How are you all doing? Isn’t the sun wonderful today?”

“Yes,” Gen said hesitantly. “How are you, Asao?”

“I’m doing well, truly,” Asao replied. “It was simply a rough few days, between the battle and the argument. Now that that’s all behind us, I’m sure things will settle down again.”

“Of course,” Kenta said. “I truly am sorry, Asao. I can’t help feeling like it wouldn’t have been so bad if I hadn’t been there.”

“It’s not your fault,” Asao replied. “Was Lord Theodora too hard on you?”

“N-no, not at all.” Kenta looked embarrassed to admit it. “She wasn’t angry, just worried about me. She brewed me a cup of tea and gave me a whole armload of blankets before she went to talk to the Surgish woman.”

“Oh.” Asao’s smile wavered a little.

Taiki repeated his story about being barricaded in the servant’s quarters after the battle, and Asao nodded. “That was wise. Lord Marcus was quite… excited, that night. I wouldn’t have liked to be faced with a whole group of the gods. I’m sure Lord Antony was much the same, wasn’t he, Hanyu?”

“He… scared me, yes.” Hanyu had to force the words out. “He was very strange.”

“I know what you mean.” Asao’s eyes found his, and they were as cool and guarded as his tone was warm. “The lovemaking was… intense, that night.”

“Oh. Oh!” Hanyu blushed and looked down. “I… um… Lord Antony hasn’t yet granted me the honor of his bed. Yet.”

“I see.” Asao looked pleased for a second, then his eyes held their usual kind, concerned softness. The change happened so quickly that Hanyu couldn’t help wondering whether he’d imagined the other, almost smug expression.

The sudden gentleness in his friend’s face gave Hanyu the courage to ask the question that had been burning his tongue since he’d seen Asao’s pallor. “Asao, are you… all right? Did Lord Marcus hurt you?”

Asao laughed aloud. “Dear Hanyu! When did you become such a worrier? I assure you, it’s nothing more than a bit of roughness. One would hardly expect a war god to be an especially tender lover! I don’t mind at all. It’s honestly quite thrilling. If you’re ever favored with one of the gods’ attentions, you’ll understand.”

Damn. Of course Asao wasn’t jealous of Hanyu. Why would he be? He might not belong to the lord of the gods as he’d always expected, but he was being recognized and honored and pleasured in ways Hanyu could only dream of. He served a god that couldn’t keep his hands off him. Hanyu flushed at his own stupidity.

Gen was asking Asao something, probably something horrible and intrusive. but then Bunta interrupted to remind them that it was time to do their exercises. Hanyu began stretching with the rest, savoring the way his body moved and his blood flowed.

Would Lord Antony drink from him again soon? He assumed that the god had had plenty to eat the night of the battle, but it had been almost two days since then. Lord Antony had said he wouldn’t drink from him every day, but what exactly did that mean? How much would it take to hurt Hanyu? He felt a little shaky for a while after each time, but the feeling dissipated quickly.

As Hanyu sweated through his pushups, he wondered what would happen when he returned to the god’s chambers. If Lord Antony went out, he would be able to get some sleep. He felt like he was growing used to the strange patchwork schedule of the ship where sleep was grabbed whenever it was convenient, regardless of the position of the sun. After a few hours of this workout, he’d be more than ready for a nice long nap.

On the other hand, it had been wonderful last night when Lord Antony had stayed in the rooms with him despite the bells announcing the departure of the sun. Even though Hanyu had been miserable over his musical failings for a good portion of the night, he’d enjoyed listening to the god’s flute playing for several hours. He was an amazingly skilled player- as was to be expected of a god, Hanyu supposed, but it was still wonderful to listen to. And it had been so pleasant to sprawl on the sofa beside him as he played, quiet and companionable and… together. For the first time, Hanyu had really felt as if they were spending time together.

Overall, he hoped that the god chose to stay in that night.

When the sunset began dyeing the sea flame-orange, he bade his friends good night, hugged a stiff Asao, and followed Bunta back down into the belly of the ship.

Hanyu felt as if he was getting a feeling for the floating behemoth at this point. At least, he was fairly certain he could find his way back to Lord Antony’s rooms. Nevertheless, Bunta was good company, and Hanyu enjoyed talking with him. On this journey through the ship, he learned that Bunta belonged to a god named Julia who worked as the ship’s physician. Her services were rarely needed by the gods, but frequently by the humans, apparently. She had taken Bunta in as soon as his six years of general service ended.

Hanyu wondered if any of the gods would accept him once Lord Antony had a new offering.

“When the time comes, you can ask Lord Felix,” Bunta advised when he voiced this worry. “He arranges things for us. He’ll find you a master or a work detail or both, according to your preference. He even keeps a few rooms for those who live to be too old for either work or feeding and assigns attendants to look after them. He’s very kind. I wasn’t frightened at all when I approached him.”

“Oh good!” Hanyu felt comforted at the prospect, though he hated the idea of leaving Lord Antony’s rooms. He was uneasily certain that he would cry and beg to be kept, possibly cling to the god’s ankles… there would be all manner of undignified displays, that was for sure.

Well. That would be a problem for another day, years in the future. Maybe by then he would be mature enough to have a little self-control.

“Lord Felix took a human of his own recently,” Bunta continued. “It’s Eiji, Lord Antony’s last offering. He’s awfully lucky- I’ll bet a hundred of us have asked Lord Felix to accept our service over the years.”

That thought kept Hanyu quiet the last few minutes’ walk to Lord Antony’s chambers. Of course he’d known he was replacing somebody as the god’s attendant. Someone else had used his basin and slept in his cot and felt his master’s chilly lips and piercing fangs. This ‘Eiji’ had served Lord Antony for six years, and undoubtedly he had done a much better job of it than Hanyu. Lord Antony probably wished he could have Eiji back instead of being saddled with Hanyu.

He could probably play music and everything.

Hanyu was surprised by how much the thought annoyed him.

He bid Bunta goodbye at the doorway, then went inside. Lord Antony was sitting at his desk writing, but when Hanyu came in and made his bow, he heard papers shuffling and drawers sliding shut.

“Ah, there you are, Hanyu!” The god sounded pleased to see him and Hanyu relaxed, his dour mood lightening a little. “Raise your head. Tell me, have you relieved yourself lately?”

Hanyu was confused, and goggled up at his master uncertainly. “Um… yes, my lord?”

Lord Antony laughed at his gobsmacked expression. “I asked because I want you to be still for a few hours now.”

“M-My lord?” Hanyu’s stomach tightened painfully.

Of all the exercises at the temple, he had hated training for stillness most. He’d spent hours kneeling in place with attendants watching and noting down every twitch and fidget. Asao had enjoyed it- he said it was calming, that if Hanyu could just center himself and quiet his mind he’d learn to like it as well. But Hanyu never could.

He’d obey, of course. He knew he owed his master that and more for keeping him after all his failings. But an order like this would just lead to more failings, more misery for him and disappointment for Lord Antony. Tears prickled threateningly at the corners of his eyes.

“I’m going to paint you,” the god informed him, breaking in on his unhappy memories.

Now Hanyu was just confused. He opened his mouth but shut it again when he couldn’t think which question to ask first. Did his master plan to paint him all over with a different color? Or would it be designs? Should he take off his clothes?

Lord Antony saw his confusion and heaved a weary sigh. “I’m going to paint a picture of you. Am I correct in assuming that you’ve seen a painting at some point in your life?”

“Oh!” Hanyu felt the blood rush to his face. He was used to being subjected to beauty treatments, so he supposed it had been a reasonable assumption for him to make, but he still felt foolish. Worse, his master seemed to find him foolish. “Sorry, my lord.”

Then he processed the god’s words and his jaw slackened.

“Wait- you want to paint me?” he spluttered. “Why? My lord.”

“If you must know, it’s why I chose you in the first place,” Lord Antony said matter-of-factly. “I like to paint, and I wanted to paint you.”

“M-Me?” Hanyu grew more astonished the more the god explained.

“Oh, come now, boy.” Lord Antony sounded almost annoyed. “You and I both know you’re lovely. I don’t have the patience for false modesty.”

“Lovely?” Asao was a hundred times lovelier than Hanyu could ever be. If Lord Antony had wanted someone lovely to paint, why on earth didn’t he take Asao? That’s what he should have-

But then, the fact remained that the god didn’t choose Asao. He’d had the opportunity, and he hadn’t taken it. He was a god, he knew what he wanted. Hanyu might not have been the best sacrifice but he was the one Lord Antony wanted. The god had chosen Hanyu over Asao, over perfect mysterious Eiji, over all of them, and he had called him…

Hanyu’s face flushed and he felt a lazy thrill curling through his body. Lovely. He said I’m lovely. He thinks I’m lovely.

Lord Antony had called him ‘pretty’ about a hundred times the night after the battle, but that had been different. Hanyu felt as though his master would have flirted with the sofa and called it pretty that night if he hadn’t been there. He’d simply had a surplus of interest and energy and nowhere to put it.

This was different. This felt personal and meaningful and intentional in a way that made Hanyu’s bare toes curl into the carpet.

“Of course,” Lord Antony replied. “Heavens, Hanyu. Of course you’re lovely.”

His voice was still brusque, but Hanyu didn’t care.

He felt a grin spreading over his face and suspected it was dazed and stupid-looking, but he didn’t care about that either.

“If my lord god says I am lovely, then I must be,” he said breathily. Was he trying for flirtatious? Submissive? Both, he decided, though he wasn’t sure how well it came off in his voice.

“I was beginning to think you’d lost your ability to say more than one word at a time,” Lord Antony said. “How disappointing to find I was wrong.”

Chapter Text

HANYU’S POV

After a few hours spent posing, Hanyu was starting to wonder whether being lovely was such an advantage after all.

Lord Antony had chosen a pale blue robe with gold embroidery and produced some gold jewelry and a little box of makeup. He’d shoved the whole bundle into Hanyu’s arms- “I assume you know what to do with all this?” -and gone to his bedchamber to gather his paints and canvases. When he returned and found Hanyu dressed as he’d ordered, the god became a whirlwind of activity. He’d arranged blankets on the sofa, added more oil to the torches and then cursed himself when they burned brighter than he wanted, and finally posed Hanyu himself.

That had been thrilling. He’d told Hanyu to lie on the sofa and prop himself up on one elbow. Hanyu had obeyed, but then Lord Antony had been right there. He’d arranged Hanyu’s long yellow braid several different ways, then pulled it loose. Hanyu had shivered at the feeling of his god’s fingers combing through his hair, coaxing it to drape over his shoulders. Then Lord Antony had put his hands on Hanyu’s legs- Hanyu had had to close his eyes and think about the high priest’s pinched face as his master pushed his robe up over one of his thighs.

Finally, Lord Antony took his face between careful hands, turning it slightly to test the different ways the light could fall on his features. Hanyu had stared spellbound up into the god’s face, which was remote with concentration but so tantalizingly close in proximity. Lord Antony’s lips were right there, right there. All it would take would be the slightest forward motion… just the tiniest twitch of his neck…

Hanyu was fighting down an erection by the time Lord Antony pulled back– “Now hold still!” -and removed the temptation. Luckily he’d softened enough to escape notice by the time the god was finished arranging his canvas and paints.

Unluckily, that was the last exciting thing that had happened.

Now his elbow was tired, and his hand was asleep. His eyelids were growing heavy. His bladder was tight and insistent. And he was excruciatingly bored.

Lord Antony hadn’t said a word since he sat down and began work, except to occasionally snap out a “Hold still!” He looked up at Hanyu every few moments, but his brow was furrowed in concentration, and there was no hint of that dizzying little smile anywhere on his face.

He showed no indication of even being aware of the passage of time. Hanyu hated to disappoint his god, but it would hardly be the first time today. Anyhow, it would probably disappoint him even more if his offering pissed on his sofa.

“My lord?” Hanyu’s voice came out as a small, creaky squeak. He cleared his throat, then swallowed hard when the god’s eyes bounced up to meet his, clearly startled and irritated. “Please forgive me, my lord, but I have to…”

He trailed off delicately, but Lord Antony only went on staring at him in annoyance.

“… Piss,” he finished at last. “I have to take a piss.”

“Oh.” His master blinked. “Of course, go ahead.” As Hanyu scrambled to his feet, sighing softly at the pleasure of moving his limbs after so much stillness, Lord Antony got up as well, muttering, “How long have we been sitting here?”

By the time Hanyu returned to the sitting room, the god was glaring at him. What had he done wrong now? Hanyu wasn’t sure, but he dropped to his knees and prostrated himself anyway.

“Why didn’t you say anything?” Lord Antony demanded. “It’s going to be morning soon, and you just had several full hours of exercise after a sleepless night sitting up with me. You need to sleep at some point!”

“F-forgive me, my lord, please,” Hanyu begged. It had been such a long, strange several days and he couldn’t bear to have his master angry with him anymore. “I didn’t want to disobey. You told me to be still.”

The god sighed wearily, and Hanyu forced himself to stay down instead of peeking up to gauge his expression.

“Hanyu. I want you to listen to me. I do not need to sleep, at least not more than a few hours now and then. I do not need to relieve myself. I do not need water or food. I know that you need these things, and I do my best to remember in the moment, but it is very easy for me to lose track of time. I am extremely old, and a day moves very quickly for me. I will never keep you from those things on purpose, not even for a punishment, no matter how angry I am. If you aren’t able to access them because of something I’m doing or for any other reason, you have to tell me, because these are not things that I ever want to deprive you of. Do you understand?”

“Yes, my lord,” Hanyu replied meekly.

It was intimidating to think of interrupting the god’s painting or any other activities he might want to engage in with Hanyu, but Lord Antony made sense. It wasn’t his job to continuously monitor Hanyu for signs of weariness or demand to know whether he was hungry.

Hanyu wasn’t used to making demands, or even requests. In the temple, every need was seen to on a rigid schedule. But he had his orders, and he’d simply have to do his best to obey.

“Good. Now get up, boy. Help me move the easel and then go to bed. If you don’t wake when they come to the door to bring you abovedeck, I’ll tell them to go without you.”

ANTONY’S POV

The snores started almost as soon as Antony doused the torches. What he wouldn’t give to sleep so easily! To his horror, he found himself smiling and rolling his eyes with a feeling approaching fondness as the racket set in.

Well, there was no time to worry about his responses to the pesky boy. Antony had enchanted papers to check.

Titus hadn’t written back, of fucking course, but Claudia had. Her sheet was covered in her small, precise script.

My dearest Antony,

I, too, have not heard from our brother in two weeks. I am sending you the last coordinates he shared with me. It’s not far from your current location, so perhaps you could search for him? I’m sorry to trouble you, but I’m worried about him, too.

How did things go with Marcus’ gift? Did it cause much grumbling? Was lovely Theodora pleased, at least? I’m going to steal her away from you eventually, brother mine, mark my words!

No, I haven’t noticed any dip in the quality of offerings. As you say, serves you right for choosing from the back row! I claimed the temple’s choice as usual and he’s perfect, as always. I’m glad your offering is at least entertaining! Is he finally going to break you of this prudish streak you have going? It’s coming up on seven hundred years since the last time you took a human to your bed, isn’t it? That’s far too long when they’re so well-trained.

Things are going well here. The King of Alrest sent a ship out to fight me, so that was a lovely scuffle and a wonderful meal for everyone, and we captured two elves, which brings my count up to seven. Despite all the good it brought, everyone has been a bit low since the attack, and I think I understand why. Even after all these centuries, there’s a part of you that sees those flags and thinks ‘Home,’ and it’s jarring to be reminded that they’re here to kill you, don’t you find?

In particular, I wonder about the king. How many generations do you suppose separate us from our royal cousin now? Does he even know it’s his own blood commanding the ships he’s hunting? It’s so strange to think that there’s no one left alive on that continent who remembers us, so who knows what they all believe by now?

I’m sorry to burden you with my melancholy thoughts, Antony. I’ve been feeling odd since I realized that our thousandth year of exile had passed at some point in the last few decades and we didn’t even notice. I don’t suppose you’ve had any signs of aging yet? Sometimes I convince myself I’ve found a wrinkle or a gray hair, but it always turns out to be a trick of the light.

Be well, brother. Titus is scaring me, and I must admit that without your letters I would feel quite alone. I promise to be more agreeable in my next message.

Your loving sister,

Claudia

Antony noted down the coordinates his sister had sent him on a piece of scratch paper, then he set the vellum back in its box, feeling disquieted. He’d forgotten to look for signs of age. Shit, it had been years since he’d thought to check! Feeling a dizzy hope stir his insides, Antony stepped over the sprawled, snoring boy to get to his washroom and look into his mirror.

He peered at himself in the glass. Gray hairs would be no indicator for him, but he could at least check for wrinkles. He turned his head this way and that, but no new lines showed. He lifted his chin, but the skin beneath showed no sign of slackening. The skin under his eyes was no baggier than normal. His fingers, too, looked the same as always.

Finally, Antony sagged against the wall in defeat.

Nothing. There was nothing. A thousand years had flowed over him like a faint breeze, leaving not the slightest trace of their passing. He pushed shaking hands through his unthinned hair.

He remembered, all at once, his mother chiding him gently for saying ‘forever.’

“There’s no such thing, sweet boy,” she had said, smiling down, the sunlight playing off the jewels in her ears. “Soon or late, everything dies and goes back to the earth.”

“Are you so sure of that, Mother?” he whispered now into his shaking fingers.

A particularly deep snore shook him from his despairing thoughts, and he leaned back and sighed.

The trick was to have tasks. They’d all learned that, literal ages ago.

Right now, painting that damn boy was proving to be task enough for him. Hanyu was incapable of holding still. He made a fine image, reclining on the sofa with his silks falling around him, as long as you didn’t see his fingers rubbing at one another or his tongue poking around his mouth or his toes twitching in time to some inaudible music- or in time to something, anyhow, since the boy didn’t appear to have a musical bone in all that great length of body.

That was the trick. Focus on the moment. Focus on a project. Focus on the boy, if it would help.

That was how you handled forever.

Chapter Text

ANTONY’S POV

“Hanyu, I have a question.”

“Yes, my lord?”

“Are you in fact capable of holding still?”

“… If I’m being perfectly honest, I’m not sure, my lord. Sorry.”

Well, Antony had asked, and he could hardly fault the boy for answering him truthfully.

Hanyu had indeed slept through the attendant’s knock on the door that morning, but the man had been delivering the news that it was raining and the offerings would not be going up to the deck that day. As such, Antony had let the boy sleep as long as he wanted and resumed painting as soon as he was awake, washed, and fed. It had been rather flattering to see that Hanyu wasn’t disappointed to miss his outing, and instead complied happily with Antony’s plans for the day.

Well, he was trying to comply, anyway.

“Never mind,” Antony sighed. “I don’t care about the rest, but just try to keep your face still, will you? Try to look natural.”

Hanyu clamped his mouth shut and widened his eyes froggishly. Antony winced.

“For goodness’ sake, boy, is that how you think your face naturally looks?”

“Isn’t it?”

“Fuck no. No wonder you were surprised I’d want to paint you.” Antony rolled his eyes. “Listen, just relax, all right?”

“Sorry, my lord, how’s this?” Hanyu slackened his jaw and let his eyes go half-lidded, but only succeeded in making himself look vacant, which was not much better. He gave the impression that he’d start drooling in a moment.

Antony sighed again. “What if you were to talk as I go? I’ll have to guess at the mouth, but it should keep the rest of your face relaxed.”

“All right, my lord.” The boy then proceeded to stare at Antony, the picture of helpless, silent dismay.

“So… talk,” Antony prodded.

“I’m sorry, my lord!” the boy wailed. “I can’t think of anything to say!”

“How is that possible?” Antony marveled. “You even talk in your sleep!”

Hanyu cocked his head curiously. “I do?”

“Interminably!” Antony snapped. “All right, then, I’ll ask you a question and see if we can get those words flowing.”

Hmm. It was hard to think of something within such broad parameters. The boy had a point, which irritated Antony.

“What classes did you like at the temple?” he asked at last.

“Um… dancing, singing, and recitation were my favorites, my lord,” the boy said, and that appeared to be the end of it.

Antony needed a better question. What interested the boy? They’d been living together for over a week and he had no idea, and that made some long-silent corner of his mind feel a little embarrassed.

Wait, he did know one thing. Hanyu had been excited to see the rest of his cadre on the upper deck.

“Who are your best friends?”

That was the right question. The boy’s face lit like a sky at sunrise, or at least, like the way Antony remembered them.

“My best friend is Asao! He was the finest of our whole cadre, the one the temple put forward for you, my lord, but he still spent most of his time with me. He belongs to Lord Marcus now.”

Oh. Antony remembered with a twinge his flippant thoughts about Marcus taking his poor temper out on his attendant. He hadn’t realized that that boy was Hanyu’s closest friend. He thought back to the offering ceremony, trying to remember the temple’s choice, but all he could conjure up was a vague impression of a pretty, slender boy with humbly downcast eyes. He’d never be able to pick him out of a group.

Hanyu continued talking, warming to his topic, and Antony gratefully abandoned his efforts to remember the boy who’d been presented to him.

“He’s so proper you just have to tease him a little, and he’ll be indignant and scold you, but he’ll laugh first,” Hanyu said, his face bright and animated. “He hates being second in any of our classes. One time he cried because he made a single mistake in a ten-minute harp song. He says I’m blaspheming all the time- whenever I catch myself thinking blasphemous thoughts it’s his voice I hear in my head, scolding me.”

“Blasphemous thoughts?” Antony looked up from his painting, amused. “Such as?”

“Oh!” Hanyu colored. “Um… nothing too bad, my lord, I promise! Though I suppose they’re all bad, aren’t they?”

“Come now, I’m not going to punish you for your thoughts.” The boy’s face would not be still! He was impossible to paint. “Tell me some of them, I’m curious to find out what counts as blasphemy. Your friend can educate us both.”

Hanyu looked nervous- another change of expression! “I… um… sometimes I think of you as my god, my lord. Please don’t be angry!”

“I’m not.” Quite the opposite. Against his will, Antony was charmed. “Is that all it takes? Goodness, blasphemy is easy to fall into.”

“You don’t find it… disrespectful?” Hanyu asked timidly.

“Not at all,” Antony assured him. “Quite reasonable, really. You’re my offering, out of all the offerings. Why shouldn’t I be your god, out of all the gods?”

Hanyu smiled and blushed. “Th-thank you. My lord.”

Antony realized he’d gotten caught up in the conversation and forgotten all about painting the damn boy. He returned his gaze to the canvas. “Tell me more about your… Asao, was it?”

“Yes, my lord, that’s right! Well, he’d hate me for saying this, but he loves fried yams but they give him pimples, so he’s always saying he’s given them up forever, but then he cracks and eats a whole plateful. He’s scared of ladybugs because one bit him once. He always used to beg Father Shu to lighten my punishments, even if he knew I deserved them. I usually did. If you’ll pardon my saying so, my lord, I really don’t know why you didn’t choose him. He’s perfect. I’m sure you’ve repented of your choice by now, though, so I shouldn’t rub it in!”

“Don’t be stupid,” Antony snapped, surprised by the irritation that flooded him at the words. “Of course I don’t want another offering.”

“Sorry, my lord.” The boy looked down. “That’s another of my blasphemous thoughts, I guess. I keep thinking you made a mistake, picking me.” He looked up again and grinned. “But it was a good mistake for me, so I’m not complaining!”

“Well, I’m not complaining either.” Except to himself. And Marcus and Theodora. And his sister. He wasn’t complaining now, though. “So that’s not much of a mistake, is it?”

Hanyu beamed, and Antony gave up and simply decided to paint the smile.

“Now, are you friends with Theodora’s boy?” Antony fished for the name. “Kenta?”

“Of course!” Hanyu enthused. “Kenta’s wonderful! He’s got the most beautiful singing voice. He made Father Shu cry one day when he sang ‘The Murdered Bridegroom.’ And he’s awfully kind! He used to walk around after it rained and move all the worms and slugs from the paths so they wouldn’t get stepped on. The priests would scold him for getting dirt and slime all over his hands, but he never stopped.”

No wonder Theodora hadn’t wanted to give him up, if he sang as well as all that. And gentleness was a rare trait among their own people anymore- it must have seemed very novel to her. Her decision made more sense to Antony, knowing these things about her boy.

“What about your other friends?” Antony asked.

“There’s Gen. He’s very warm and kindly and he laughs at everything! I think he pretends to be stupider than he is because that way, people don’t take offense when he asks blunt questions that nobody can get up the courage to ask themselves. He was the first to find where the dirty books were kept in the library, and he…”

The monologue went on and on. Apparently, Hanyu was friends with everybody he’d met in his life- no great surprise there, Antony supposed.

Ordinarily Antony would have been finished painting before the boy was a third of the way done describing his whole damn cadre, but there were two things that dragged the process out.

In the first place, he kept getting caught up in Hanyu’s descriptions. The quiet, obedient boys he’d barely spared a glance at the ceremony seemed so vivid and interesting in their friend’s descriptions. He had the thought several times that if any of his vampires had ever showed such detailed attention to and knowledge of the people around them, he would have made them one of his lieutenants. Still, Hanyu would have been a shit spymaster. His observations were all complimentary and his anecdotes revealed only the barest hints of any slight flaws or foibles in their protagonists. The boy was either hopelessly naïve or else very careful not to speak badly of his friends. Considering his obvious admiration for Antony, it was probably the former.

The other holdup in Antony’s artistic process was a fundamental problem with his subject: the boy’s face wouldn’t stop. His mouth was moving, of course, but also his eyebrows went up and down, his cheeks puffed out, his chin firmed or dimpled, his eyes narrowed and widened, and he even waved his hands around, completely ignoring the fact that he was supposed to be posing. Antony made a dozen efforts, through descriptions of the virtues of a dozen boys, to choose a single expression and get it down before it could change. He would interrupt the stream of words and tell Hanyu, “Stop, hold still, just like that!” and the boy would try, but in freezing the expression he ruined it every time. He would widen his eyes too far or freeze with his mouth half-open or just… settle, losing the animation that Antony hoped to capture.

Finally, he gave up. He slapped down his best approximation of Hanyu’s grin as the boy prattled on.

“… time when the high priest was coming to speak with Father Shu about our lessons, Daiji figured out which room would be directly above their meeting and we all put cups against the floor to try and eavesdrop on them. The floor was too thick for us to hear anything, but it worked for listening through doors, if the guards didn’t catch you. And he can do all kinds of sums in his head, without a paper or anything! He-”

“I’m done,” Antony interrupted. “Do you want to come look?”

“Oh!” The boy tried to scramble up but caught his hand on his robe and jerked hard against his own weight, resulting in a quick stop and an inelegant flop back onto the couch.

“Easy, boy,” Antony chided. “It’s a painting, it’s not going to run away if you don’t get here fast enough.”

“Sorry, my lord!” Hanyu scrambled forward, moved around the easel and stool, then leaned over Antony’s shoulder, so close the vampire could feel his warmth. When he saw the painting, the boy gasped and began bouncing a little on his toes.

For his part, Antony was scowling at his handiwork. It wasn’t right at all. In the painting, Hanyu looked flat and elegant and boring, like some king’s consort in an official portrait. Antony hated it.

“I love it!” the boy enthused. “I can’t believe you painted an entire picture of me, my lord! And you made me look… perfect. Beautiful. Thank you so much!”

Antony decided against saying that it looked nothing like Hanyu, as he’d been about to do.

“I’d like to try again” he said instead. “Maybe a different pose. But for now I’ll leave this one to dry and hope the sea stays smooth.”

“It’s so wonderful,” Hanyu said dreamily. “And you want another?”

“Of course.” Antony glared at the canvas. “This one doesn’t do you justice.”

He regretted his words when the boy turned enormous brown eyes on him, brimming over with joyful tears. He was struck with a ridiculous urge to throw his hands up to protect himself from the full, beaming force of Hanyu’s smile. Surely there was enough sunshine in that expression to blister his skin.

“You’re far too kind, Lord Antony,” the boy said softly. “Please, isn’t there anything I can do to thank you for your generous attentions?”

Danger!

The boy’s body was pressing against him all at once, soft and warm and pliant, and his tongue was darting out to wet his lips. Also, he was speaking more formally and using bigger words than usual, which Antony realized must be one of his ‘tells’ for attempted seduction.

“You can put the painting somewhere safe to dry,” Antony said brusquely, wriggling a little to stand without pressing any closer to his lustful offering. “Once you’ve done that, you can do as you like. I’m going out.”

Crestfallen, the boy nonetheless bowed his acceptance. “Of course, my lord. Thank you.”

Once the door had shut safely behind him, Antony let out a breath and tried to decide where to go. His first instinct was to take the coordinates his sister had sent him to Theodora and tell her to set their course for that location, but the scrap of paper he’d written them on was still in the room, and he didn’t want to go back in there.

Another thought occurred, though he faced this one more reluctantly. Still, it had to be done sooner or later, and sooner would probably be better. Antony turned and walked to Marcus’ chambers.

HANYU’S POV

Hanyu had to admit to himself that he’d been sulking for most of the day.

He hadn’t necessarily expected Lord Antony to accept his barely veiled offer, but he certainly hadn’t expected the god to launch himself out the door so quickly Hanyu thought he could have stepped into the hole his master left in the air.

Hanyu knew it was his own fault. He’d been told that Lord Antony didn’t bed humans. But still, when he’d seen how lovely his master made him in his painting, he hadn’t been able to help wondering whether he’d changed his mind.

Hanyu kept drifting back to look at the painting, even at the height of his snit. It astounded him that Lord Antony had spent so much time creating a likeness of him, and even more that the likeness was so flattering. In the painting, Hanyu looked cool and elegant, poised and… lovely. Like a king’s consort.

Like Asao.

Was this really how Lord Antony saw him? A graceful, beautiful young man who looked as if he could hold an intelligent conversation or make a witty joke or…

Or charm his way into a god’s bed.

Apparently not. Apparently the thought of bedding him was so repulsive that it caused thousand-year-old deities to flee in terror.

Hanyu was sulkily cleaning the jewelry the temple sent with him when he heard a tentative rap on the door. When he opened it, he found himself looking at a broad-shouldered man with a face so beautiful he almost forgot to breathe.

“H-Hello?” he squeaked.

The man looked at him with an unreadable expression, then shifted his gaze over Hanyu’s shoulder to the sitting room.

“May I come in?” he asked. “I’ve brought your dinner and your clean laundry.”

“Oh, of course!” Hanyu turned to let him in and almost walked right into the doorframe.

The man entered, bearing a cloth bag and a covered tray. He pushed the bag into Hanyu’s fumbling hands, set the tray on the table, then turned a little, taking in the room.

“Lord Antony isn’t here?” he asked, though it sounded less like a question than a statement.

“No, he isn’t.” Hanyu stashed the bag next to his chest, then went back to staring at the gorgeous stranger. “What’s your name?”

“Eiji,” the man said, and Hanyu’s stomach plummeted at the name of his master’s previous offering.

This man was stunning. He had the high cheekbones and square jaw of a hero from a story, paired with some of the brightest, darkest eyes Hanyu had ever seen. His lips were full and sensual, and the muscles of his chest and shoulders were so clearly defined under his fine silk shirt that they could have been sculpture rather than flesh.

If beauty like this couldn’t tempt Lord Antony, Hanyu didn’t have a prayer.

“Y-you were…” he stammered, and Eiji looked at him coldly.

“Yes, I was Lord Antony’s personal attendant before you,” he said.

“I thought you served Lord Felix now?” Hanyu blurted.

The beautiful man’s face softened a little. “Yes, I do. But I wanted a work detail as well. My master doesn’t mind.”

“Th-that’s good,” Hanyu managed.

“It is good,” said Eiji. “Lord Felix has been very good to me.”

“I’m glad.” There was no way he was as wonderful as Lord Antony, but Hanyu didn’t want to rub his predecessor’s nose in what he’d lost.

“I’ll be going,” Eiji said at last. “Good luck to you.”

“Wait!” Hanyu cried. He flushed and stammered and cursed himself for asking, but he couldn’t help himself, and the beautiful man waited impassively until he managed to spit out his question. “Is... is it true that Lord Antony never… never grants humans the honor of his bed?”

For a moment, Eiji almost looked pitying. “It’s true. I know you had grand ideas when he chose you. It was the same for me. But you need to let go of those. In six years, he barely said more to me than ‘Raise your head,’ or ‘Play some music, would you?’ and he never once touched me except to feed.”

That couldn’t be right. Lord Antony talked with Hanyu all the time, and he’d seemed to enjoy hearing about everyone in the cadre. Eiji was probably just bitter that he’d never earned the chance to pleasure the god, and that he’d been replaced.

Hanyu decided he wouldn’t be like that. He wouldn’t run out of chances to please his master and work towards being permitted in his bed until Lord Antony sent him away, and that was six years from now. There was no point losing hope and sabotaging himself now, no matter how gorgeous his predecessor was.

“Thank you for your advice,” he said with a polite bow, and Eiji nodded and left.

Hanyu sat down at the table and wolfed down his dinner, then he went to the bag to put away his clean laundry. To his astonishment, he found the filmy cloth of gold robe he’d thought ruined gleaming softly at the top of the pile. They’d gotten the stains out after all!

It felt like a good omen, and though Hanyu decided against changing into the robe just then, he skipped off to his closet to apply some makeup. Lord Antony would be back anytime, and anything could happen.

Chapter Text

ANTONY’S POV

When Antony first knocked on the familiar door to Marcus’ chambers, there was no immediate response from inside. He stepped back a little and hoped that his lover wouldn’t answer the door so he could leave without seeing Marcus and still feel righteous for having made the effort. However, after a long moment the door swung open.

Antony stared up into the pale, lovely face of the offering that had been meant for him. For the second time in recent days, he looked at a human and was swallowed by sudden feelings of awkwardness.

The boy folded to the floor with a grace that Antony found impressive, even after all these years.

“My lord Antony,” he greeted, his voice low and melodious. He spoke slowly, as if he were taking the time to taste every syllable that formed in his mouth. It was a world of difference from Hanyu’s breathless tumble of words. Had these two really had the same instructors?

“Ah, Antony.” Antony could just barely see Marcus, sprawled over an armchair in the corner of his sitting room. “So good of you to visit.”

Antony let the door swing shut, stepped carefully around the boy, and went to stand in front of his lover. “Hello, Marcus.”

His war chief was holding a book loosely in his fingers and tipping his head back to make his hair tumble over his shoulders and the back of the chair. His elegant dressing gown was undone to his waist. He studiously avoided looking up as Antony approached.

“To what do I owe the pleasure?” Marcus asked icily.

Antony sighed and fought down the urge to roll his eyes. “Oh, stop posing. And put the book down, you’re not reading it.”

“I am!” Marcus protested.

“Really?” Antony arched a brow at his lover. “Tell me, when did you learn to read upside down?”

Marcus looked over the book again, then sighed and let it drop to the floor. Antony cringed as the pages crumpled and the spine stretched.

“Fine.” Marcus looked up and met his gaze, lofty and offended. “What do you want, Antony? Are you here to apologize?”

“Fuck no,” Antony replied, a little surprised even though he should have expected the question. “And I know better than to expect an apology from you. I’d still like for us to put the other day’s unpleasantness behind us, though.”

Marcus tilted his head back and glared up at the smaller vampire. “I can put it behind me, my lord, but you humiliated me in front of a third of the crew. Can they put it behind them?”

“ ‘Humiliated’ is a bit strong, don’t you think?” Antony replied, flopping into Marcus’ other armchair. “Anyhow, Felix gave you a perfect excuse, saying you were just a little wild from our feast. I imagine it was even the truth.”

“Oh, I’m not angry that you made me apologize.” There was a glint in Marcus’ eye that said otherwise, but Antony decided against pushing the point. “I admit that I shouldn’t have snapped at you in front of the others, and chances are if I’d actually laid a hand on Theo’s precious pup she’d have demanded the full punishment, so I suppose I should thank you for stopping me.”

Would she? Antony wasn’t sure. He thought Theodora would probably have meted out her own justice in the moment, but not pursued anything more public. She was wary of rousing Marcus’ spiteful side, as Antony realized he probably should have been as well. It had been a long time since he’d had to deal with more than one of Marcus’ minor snits, which he had hoped this would prove to be, and been reminded of just how vicious an angry war chief could be.

“What angers me,” Marcus continued, “is the fact that you handed the woman over to Theodora and ruined my trade.”

“Is that it?” Antony was only further confused by the complaint. “She was supposed to be a gift, not a bargaining chip. Anyhow, why do you want her offering so much?”

“I hate to see a luscious little thing like that being wasted on Theo,” Marcus said.

“It’s none of your business what she does with what’s hers,” Antony argued. “Anyhow, you can’t be bored already. We just got them! You were gushing about your boy only a few days ago!”

“Of course I’m bored with him! Variety is the spice of life, Annie,” Marcus sighed. “And we have an awful lot of life to spice.”

“It’s your own fault no one will share with you,” Antony said. “You’ve got a reputation for being too rough. Most of them don’t want to wait a month to fuck their humans because you got carried away.”

Marcus looked up at Antony, a calculating gleam in his eyes. “You don’t fuck yours. Would you consider-”

“No!” Antony snapped.

Oh, no.

Now he’d done it. Antony knew immediately that his tone had been too harsh, his response too fast, his face too savage. He could almost see Marcus turning over this new piece of information in his mind to see how the light played on its various facets.

“I see,” his lover said at last. “Are you finally making proper use of your offering, then?”

“I’m not fucking the filthy creature.” Antony knew he was overcompensating, but what else could he do? “I just don’t want him broken.”

“Hmmm.” Marcus didn’t stop peering into Antony’s face as he lifted a hand and snapped his thick fingers.

There was a rustle of fabric, and the boy glided over to them and bowed low. Antony had forgotten he was even there. He wished he hadn’t made Marcus say out loud that he was bored with his offering.

“How may I serve you, my lord?” the boy asked, his voice still low and sweet.

“Strip,” Marcus ordered. “I want Lord Antony to see what he’s missing since he picked that blond ragamuffin over you.”

Humiliation crossed the boy’s face, and Antony wondered whether it was because of the order or the reminder of his rejection. Either way, the offering- Asao, it was no good pretending he didn’t know this boy’s name was Asao and he hated ladybugs and loved fried potatoes- obeyed without hesitation. He reached up and pulled his shirt over his head, then shimmied out of his trousers and smallclothes with practiced, graceful seductiveness.

Antony barely noticed the expert eroticism Asao was layering into his performance. He was too distracted by the rainbow of finger-sized bruises and hand-shaped welts that coated the boy’s entire body. They wreathed his wrists and ankles and neck, they speckled his arms and shoulders and thighs, and when Asao turned on his heels to give them a saucy little spin, Antony was barely able to hold back a wince at the state of his ass cheeks.

“Fuck, Marcus,’ he said, once he was sure he could manage to sound only mildly annoyed by the display. “Are you even trying to keep from breaking this one?”

“Oh, Annie, you know yourself that they’re so easy to break,” Marcus purred. He hadn’t moved his eyes from Antony’s face even once during Asao’s performance, and Antony could only hope that he hadn’t given away as much as he feared.

Asao was posing now, cocking his hip and crossing his arms behind his back to show off his poor, abused body. There was a kind of understated pride in his bearing that made Antony suspect he saw the bruises as badges of honor. Antony’s stomach hadn’t held bile in a thousand years, but he could have sworn he tasted it now.

Marcus snapped his fingers again and pointed to the floor in front of him. Oh, no. Antony schooled his expression to flatness as Asao dropped to his knees where he stood and crawled from there to kneel between Marcus’ spread legs. He reached for Marcus’ robe, smiling, but the vampire slapped his hands none too gently away.

“No hands,” he ordered, and the boy obediently crossed them behind his back and used his nose and mouth to push the fabric aside. Once Marcus’ cock was exposed, he swallowed it down to the root without hesitation.

Antony tried his hardest to look bored as Asao sucked devotedly on his lover’s dick. He didn’t have a choice- Marcus was still staring directly at him.

“He’s really not half bad,” the bigger vampire said conversationally as soft slurping noises rose between his legs.

“Then why bother with others?” Antony asked. “He was the most advanced offering, so the rest of them will only disappoint you.”

“Mmmmm, difference isn’t disappointing. I’m sure yours is as different from mine as he could possibly be.” Marcus smiled lazily.

Fuck. Marcus had scented blood. He’d keep pushing at the issue of Hanyu until Antony could persuade him that he didn’t care about the boy. That was going to be difficult, because the thought of Marcus bruising Hanyu like this made him angrier than he’d been in a long time.

“Are you sure you can’t be persuaded to share him?” Marcus pressed. “Your description of his behavior was so intriguing. I’d love a go at someone clumsy and stupid, if only for a change.”

“You wouldn’t.” Antony made his voice cold. “The pest chatters constantly. He’d drive you half-mad.”

“I could quiet him easily enough,” Marcus insisted, his face relaxed into a casual malice that made Antony feel cold in the pit of his belly. “The trick is to fill the mouth.”

As he said the last word, he suddenly canted his hips up and brought a hand down on Asao’s head, shoving him down. His cock battered the poor boy’s throat without warning, and predictably enough Asao choked, gagged twice, then vomited. The sharp stink of it assaulted Antony’s senses. The boy tried desperately to swallow down his sick, but a little leaked from his swollen lips as Marcus cried out, enraged.

The bigger vampire’s hand flew, almost faster than even Antony’s eyes could follow, and Asao sprawled gasping onto the floor.

It wrenched Antony in unexpected ways to watch the boy frantically arranging his limbs into a bowing position, wheezing brokenly between his sobs, “I-I’m so sorry, my lord, p-please punish me for my failure!”

“Punish you!” Marcus thundered. He grabbed Asao by the hair and dragged him up to his knees, then wiped his vomit-spattered dick on the boy’s tearstained face before shoving him back down. “I should say so, you disgusting little stain, you filthy fucking animal!”

Antony couldn’t react. He couldn’t. If he did, then Marcus would know he had two levers with which to bother and possibly control him instead of just one, and unlike Hanyu, Antony couldn’t protect Asao all the time. Marcus would never stop using Asao to get under Antony’s skin.

Asao who, as Antony had just spent the day learning, cried if he missed a note and said everything was blasphemy and tried to get his best friend’s punishments reduced.

It would be best for Asao, too, if Antony simply watched this and never let on that he was a weapon.

“Can’t even take a cock,” Marcus snarled down at the prostrate, cowering form. He spat, and the fluid gleamed in Asao’s glossy black hair, the hair that Antony now knew Hanyu loved to braid and arrange. “What else are you fucking good for, little whore?”

“Please punish me for my- oof!” Asao’s whimpered litany was cut off by Marcus’ foot connecting with his side in a vicious kick.

Antony couldn’t stop this.

If Antony didn’t stop this, he’d puke as soon as he got through his door and met Hanyu’s trustful, adoring gaze.

Damn the boy.

He lurched to his feet and grabbed the bigger vampire by the shoulders. When Marcus rounded on him, eyes crazed with rage, Antony rose onto his toes and yanked his war chief down into a fierce kiss.

“Come on, Marcus,” he said when they pulled apart. “We both know you’re angry with me, not the boy. If I let you do what you like with me, will that be close enough to an apology for you to put all this behind you, refrain from breaking your offering in the first month, and settle the fuck down?”

Marcus’ wild gaze turned cunning and almost delighted. He smiled down at Antony and stroked his cheek with a tenderness that felt a thousand miles away from the triumphant gleam in his eyes.

Shit. Shit. Shit.

“Whatever I want?” he purred. “Such a generous offer, Annie.”

Usually Antony begrudgingly enjoyed the nickname. Just now, the way Marcus’ tongue licked over the syllables made him feel a little ill.

He kept his face impassive and even managed to roll his eyes. “I’m tired of your sulking. If roughing me up a little will break you out of this tantrum, it’ll be worth it. We have a ship to run, you know.”

Marcus grinned in a way that had Antony reminding himself that he was immortal, he healed quickly, he was going to be all right. He could certainly take the force of that malice better than Asao could.

“Here, or the bed?” he asked, working to keep his tone level.

“Mmmmm, the bedroom. That’s where I keep all my toys, after all.”

“Right, of course.” Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. He noticed that he kept mentally cursing in threes, as if his mind was trying to supply the frantic, rhythmic pounding that his heart no longer could. “Well, have your pet clean himself up and go somewhere else for the night, will you? I don’t want a human listening to us. It’s creepy.”

“Of course.” Marcus kept his knowing eyes on Antony’s face. “You heard Lord Antony, boy. You’re dismissed for the rest of the day. See if the kitchens will take you until tomorrow.”

“Thank you, my lord,” Asao rasped.

Antony didn’t dare glance down at the boy as he led his lover to the bedroom. If those words had been meant for him, he thought he might break.

HANYU’S POV

Hanyu waited for Lord Antony for the rest of the day. When the bells tolled signaling that night had fallen, he realized that the god probably wouldn’t be returning until morning, so he washed up and went to bed.

Hanyu didn’t know how much later it was when the door opened, but he woke to the sound of its bulk crashing against the wall.

“M-my lord?” he quavered, sitting bolt upright on his cot. Surely no one else would dare to crash into Lord Antony’s rooms without permission?

“Yes, it’s me.” The voice that came from the sitting room was hoarse and low and expressionless, but it was still recognizable as his master’s, and Hanyu relaxed. “I’m sorry I frightened you.”

“Not at all!” Hanyu kicked free of his blankets, got to his feet, and padded out to the sitting room to greet the god properly.

He stole his habitual glance at Lord Antony before sinking into his bow, and this time the sight shocked him enough that he stopped before he could kneel, gaping openly at the god.

Lord Antony, and this was certainly blasphemy but Asao wasn’t here to scold him, looked like shit.

The god’s fine clothes were rumpled. His hair was a tangled mess framing a face that looked wan and miserable. The skin around one of his eyes was puffy and red, his lip was split, and there were bruises around his neck. He slumped against the doorframe as if his legs could barely hold him up, and the hand that braced him against the wall was shaking.

“Holy shit, Antony! What happened?” Hanyu gasped.

The god’s eyes flicked up, less silver than steel in the torchlight, and Hanyu felt his insides collapse as he realized what he’d just said. Heart thudding in his throat, he threw himself to the ground.

“I’m so sorry, my lord, please forgive me, I’m your humble obedient slave and I meant no disrespect…” Hanyu forced himself to stop babbling, inhale, and remember what he’d been trained to do when he made a real mistake. He breathed out and said timidly, “Please punish me for my failure.”

Lord Antony made a soft, strangled noise, then there were a few stumbling steps and a heavy impact a few inches from Hanyu’s head. He didn’t dare peek to discover the source, but it became clear enough when powerful, chilly, shaky hands settled on his shoulders and drew him up. Lord Antony was kneeling in front of him, and he looked even worse up close but his eyes were fierce as he glared up at Hanyu.

“Don’t ever say that again,” he almost snarled. “Maybe I’ll have to punish you sometime, but I don’t want to hear you fucking asking for me to do it, understand?”

Mute with terror, Hanyu nodded weakly.

What was his master going to do? He knew that punishments varied from one god to another, and they’d been told to expect all kinds of things. Would it be a loss of meals? No, Lord Antony had said he wouldn’t punish him by depriving him of food or sleep. Would it be corporal punishment? That thought was terrifying in view of the god’s strength, but Hanyu would simply have to trust that Lord Antony wouldn’t go too far and break him. What about humiliation? Or isolation? He hoped it was anything but isolation…

“Good.” All the ferocity seemed to go out of the god, and he released Hanyu’s shoulders and slumped back on his knees, his own shoulders going limp. “I’m not going to punish you for that, though I’d have to if you did it where anyone else could hear.”

Hanyu shouldn’t have been so relieved. Probably he wasn’t being punished because his master didn’t find him important enough to bother with correcting his behavior. Nevertheless, he felt the buzzing panic in his mind abating just the smallest bit.

“I understand, my lord, thank you for your mercy,” Hanyu pushed out through trembling lips. “P-please, I’m so sorry, my lord, I d-don’t know what happened. Even in my own mind, I never-”

“Hanyu.” There was no snarl in Lord Antony’s voice anymore, only weariness. “I don’t want you to be frightened. I’m not angry, and I’m not going to hurt you. But I can’t keep reassuring you right now. I need to drink from you, clean up, then go to bed.”

Fuck, of course he did. The god looked terrible, and he probably felt even worse than he looked, and Hanyu was being selfish to keep taking up his energy because of his own mistake. He needed to control his own panic and serve his master, as he was supposed to do.

“Of c-course, my lord,” he whispered, trying to relax his body. “I’d be very g-grateful to s-serve you.”

Hanyu tilted his chin back to expose his neck, and Lord Antony sagged forward until his fangs found their accustomed place.

He was leaning much closer to Hanyu than he usually did when he drank, with his hand pressing lightly on Hanyu’s shoulders and his chest leaning into his offering’s. Some of Hanyu’s fear faded into pleasure as his god clung to him, almost like a lover. It nearly felt like an embrace, and Hanyu couldn’t help leaning into it. He hadn’t realized how much he’d missed the sensation of being touched since leaving the temple.

When Lord Antony pulled back a few swallows later, he looked so much better than he had a moment ago that Hanyu wondered whether he’d imagined the severity of his master’s condition before. His face was less gaunt, his eyes were brighter, and his hands no longer shook.

“Stay there,” the god ordered.

He pushed himself up, hissing in pain, and Hanyu knelt where he was and calmed the last of his trembling, wishing he had permission to pick the god up and carry him where he needed to go.

Where he needed to go proved to be the low chest of drawers where he kept the bandages and ointment.

He returned to where Hanyu knelt, hesitated, and said, “Stand up.”

When Hanyu obeyed, Lord Antony stood on his toes to reach up and apply the salve and bandages to his neck. Hanyu always loved to feel the god’s fingers against his neck for this part of his feeding ritual, but tonight he wished he’d thought to offer to do it himself.

“I’m going to wash up,” Lord Antony said once he was finished. “You may go back to bed, if you want.”

“Please, my lord, if you would be so kind as to permit it, may I attend you?” Hanyu asked timidly.

“If you like,” Lord Antony said tonelessly, and turned to go to the washroom.

Once there, the god sat on the edge of the tub while Hanyu filled his basin from the pitcher of water left by servants earlier in the day.

“Should I find someone to bring water for a bath, my lord?” he asked, proud of the steadiness of his voice.

Lord Antony shook his head. “I’d rather you didn’t leave these chambers tonight. This much water will do for now.”

“Yes, my lord,” Hanyu said.

He held the basin while the god wet a cloth and washed his face. This close, he could see bright red abrasions circling Lord Antony’s wrists. The salty seawater must have stung and burned like wasps.

“My lord?” he finally ventured, quietly and humbly. Tired silver eyes lifted to his.

“Yes?” his master prompted when it became clear that Hanyu was not going to speak without direct permission.

“Please forgive my intrusion, but may I ask what happened?”

Lord Antony sighed. “Marcus and I had an altercation a few days ago. Tonight we resolved it.”

What kind of resolution left one party looking like this? Hanyu didn’t dare ask the question aloud, but the god must have seen it on his face, because he sighed.

“We had some very rough makeup sex. It’s not the most elegant solution to a disagreement, but for someone as… carnal as Marcus, I’ve always found it to be the quickest.”

“Oh!” Hanyu felt himself flush.

Lord Antony let out a breath that could almost have been a chuckle. “Embarrassed? I was hoping to sneak in so I could spare you the details.”

“I’m all right, my lord,” Hanyu insisted.

They were quiet for a moment, then his master sighed.

“I can see you’re bursting to ask me something. Go ahead, before you hurt yourself.”

“Thank you, my lord.” Hanyu paused to try to think of the most polite, diplomatic way to word his question, then he gave up. “Why would you let Lord Marcus do this to you? You’re his lord. Couldn’t you simply command him to obey you?”

“Of course I could,” Lord Antony said. “And keep on commanding right until he offered his service to my brother the next time we meet. It’s no good to simply issue orders to get out of a fight. Anyhow, in this case the order would have been ‘Stop being angry at me’ and I don’t know that even you would be able to obey a command like that.”

Hanyu was shocked. “My lord, I would never-”

“After all, Marcus has been my lover for almost a thousand years,” the god interrupted him. “We’re a little past me ordering him to be good. This is just the best way for him to feel that things are resolved- physically. For Theodora, when she’s angry with me I can grant her privileges for her little sexless harem, an additional room or some such. When I have a spat with Felix I just have to explain my reasons and listen to his, and he feels better. Julia can be mollified if I publicly defer to her medical expertise. I’ve got a strategy for each of them, for the times when their pride is truly hurt and they’ve begun to resent me. This is just what works for Marcus.”

Hanyu couldn’t help but feel that there was a significant difference between making up with a conversation or a boon and allowing oneself to be whaled on, but he supposed that the doings of gods were beyond his understanding. After fucking up so royally before, he was hardly going to question his master’s wisdom right now.

Lord Antony had finished washing his face. He reached for the ties of his shirt, then glanced at Hanyu and hesitated.

“Go get me some night clothes and I’ll finish this up,” he ordered.

Hanyu set the basin down and obeyed, slipping out the washroom door as Lord Antony began to work off his shirt.

As he opened the god’s wardrobe and began his search, Hanyu tried to calm his thoughts into some approximation of order. He couldn’t believe he’d slipped up and spoken to Lord Antony without honorifics. Even more, he couldn’t believe he wasn’t going to be punished for such blatant disrespect.

Perhaps the god was simply waiting until he’d had the chance to rest up? If that was the case, Hanyu would accept his delayed punishment gratefully. He knew he deserved it, and it made him uncomfortable to have transgressed, been caught, and not received discipline. The priests back home at the temple never would have stood for it.

Most pressingly, he couldn’t believe the state Lord Antony was in. He wondered if Lord Marcus looked this bad. Was Asao was helping patch him up as well right now?

Asao was probably allowed to clean the wounds himself instead of just holding the basin like a shaky, fleshy table, and he probably wasn’t sent from the room before Lord Marcus stripped.

Asao was so lucky.

Chapter Text

HANYU’S POV

When Hanyu woke, the room was silent. Had Lord Antony left already? Hanyu squirmed free of his blankets and rolled to a sitting position, stretching luxuriously. He got to his feet, kicking his blankets back into place on his cot, then froze.

Lord Antony was still in the bed.

He had never slept later than Hanyu before. But there he lay, curled tightly in the fetal position, unmoving. Was he even breathing? After a moment it became apparent that he wasn’t, and Hanyu had a panicky hand outstretched to shake him when he remembered that the god didn’t need to breathe and pulled back.

Hanyu knew he shouldn’t spy, but he’d never had the chance to see what his master looked like when he was sleeping before, and he couldn’t help indulging himself.

Lord Antony might have been sleeping, but he didn’t seem very relaxed. His body was curled as tightly as a snail shell and his lovely face was lined and worried, almost scowling. His pale hair fanned and tangled on the pillow, which none of his head actually rested on- he appeared to have migrated downwards in his sleep. The marks of the vicious beating he’d taken last night had almost entirely faded, but only almost. His eye was still a little red and swollen, where Hanyu had assumed it would be blackened by now, and a few faint bruises still showed on his throat.

Without the animating power and intelligence he radiated when awake, the god looked so impossibly small under the blankets. Hanyu felt a sudden powerful desire to hold him, to nestle into the sheets and curl his body protectively around Lord Antony and massage the worry lines out of his face with a gentle finger. Maybe his god would grumble a little in his sleep and uncurl, and then he would turn in Hanyu’s arms and-

Hanyu was still in the midst of this reverie when Lord Antony’s eyes flicked open.

“Dear me,” he said, his voice a little lower and rougher than usual, but with no other signs of sleepiness. “Is it really so fascinating to watch me sleep? I should start charging admission.”

“My lord!” Hanyu felt his face flushing.

The god stretched. “It’s always a funny feeling to wake up and find a large naked man staring at you.”

“I’m so sorry, my lord, I just… I didn’t…” Hanyu fumbled for a reasonable explanation, but quickly gave up. “Please forgive me.”

“Put on some trousers and I’ll consider it,” Lord Antony replied.

When Hanyu returned, the god was already dressed and standing by the bed, weaving his long silver sweep of hair into its accustomed braid. He looked perfectly put together, and Hanyu couldn’t help wondering how much of what he’d seen last night had been his own imagination. He moved to where his master was standing and bowed.

“I really am sorry for staring, my lord,” he said sheepishly. “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”

“You didn’t.” Lord Antony’s voice was bright, almost… cheerful? “I’m not annoyed with you, pet, don’t give it another thought.”

Hanyu hadn’t been pet since the night of the battle, and the endearment gave him the courage to spit out the rest of what he had to say.

“My lord, I know you were… tired last night and didn’t wish to trouble yourself,” he said carefully. “And I won’t disobey you by requesting a punishment, but I do want you to know that… if you’re ready to discipline me for my breach of protocol last night, I’m ready to accept it.”

“You- oh, when you said my name?” Lord Antony sighed. “Get up, Hanyu. Look at me.”

Hanyu complied, ashamed to find that his hands were shaking a little. He knotted them together and stuffed them in his lap to hide the tremor as he looked up and met the god’s eyes. Lord Antony looked steadily back, crouching down so their gazes were level. As he settled into the crouch he winced and switched to a kneeling position, making himself shorter than Hanyu again.

“I’m not angry, and I’m not going to punish you,” the god said. “Honestly, I’m not even bothered. If you want to call me ‘Antony’ when we’re alone here in my rooms, I don’t mind.”

Hanyu goggled at his master, who shrugged. “Obviously you can’t do it when anyone else is around. I really would have to punish you for that, but it would be for their benefit, not because of any actual offense on my part. And if you prefer to keep calling me by titles, that’s your own affair, but I’m hardly going to get offended by the sound of my own name. I’ve had plenty of time to get used to it, after all.”

“Really?” The thought made Hanyu very nervous. “But… it seems so disrespectful!”

“Like I said, you don’t have to call me by my name if you don’t want to. What I’m telling you is that I don’t care.” The god smiled at him. “I know you respect me, Hanyu. Why should I care about titles and bowing?”

“The bowing too?” Hanyu blurted. Lord Antony shrugged again.

“Naturally. If anyone is present or the door is open, then of course you need to bow. Otherwise, I couldn’t care less. Do whatever you want.”

“All right.” Hanyu would have to mull this over. “Thank you. My lord.”

“That’s settled, then.” Lord Antony got to his feet and looked down at him. “I imagine we’ve slept through the attendant coming to take you up for some sun. Ordinarily I’d let you go up to the deck on your own, but today I’d rather you didn’t.”

“That’s fine, my lord,” Hanyu replied. The title slipped so easily off his tongue… was it worth the hassle to discard it? “I’d rather stay here with you today, if you please.”

“All right,” the god agreed. He did look a little pleased. “Well, I’m afraid we slept through your breakfast as well. Let’s go to the kitchens and see what they can give us.”

“Are you sure, my lord?” Hanyu felt suddenly self-conscious. “I don’t want to put you to any trouble.”

“For goodness’ sake, boy, how many times do I have to tell you a thing?” Lord Antony groaned. “I want you to be fed. I don’t want you to go out alone today. We’ve been over both of those things, yes?”

“Yes, of course.” Hanyu ducked his head and blushed. “Sorry, my lord.”

“Come on, then.” The god turned and headed for the door, and Hanyu scrambled to his feet and rushed to catch up.

Lord Antony was acting strange. His cheerful demeanor felt almost more dangerous than his rage the night before or his strangeness after the battle. It was a brittle pleasantness, and he shoved through the door as if he were pushing through a patch of thorns.

Lord Antony didn’t run once they were in the hallway, but he looked as though he wanted to. His shoulders were too relaxed, his gait too loose. His gaze flicked to one door in particular as they approached, then passed it. Once they were past, Hanyu could almost feel him struggling against the urge to look back over his shoulder.

Was that Lord Marcus’ door? Was his master worried that their rough lovemaking hadn’t quite been enough to soothe his lover’s feelings? Or did he wish he could go in and make up with the war god some more, if only he weren’t saddled with the feeding of a useless human offering?

Lord Antony seemed to relax a little, genuinely this time, as they went on. By the time they reached the galley, Hanyu was relaxing, too.

When they walked through the door, Hanyu was greeted by an overwhelming rush of heat and smells. Smoke, herbs, bread, meat… he was suddenly, overwhelmingly aware of his missed breakfast. His stomach gave an embarrassing roar that made Lord Antony glance back at him, clearly amused.

There were half a dozen men working in the galley. They looked tired, and none seemed younger than forty. One of them was loading stiff dark bundles into an enormous stove, and when he looked up he caught sight of Hanyu and his master. The man’s eyes widened.

“My Lord Antony!” he cried, clearly signaling their visitor’s identity to the rest of the kitchen workers, and then he dropped into a bow so perfect that it caught Hanyu by surprise. The others looked up from their labors and followed suit.

“Rise,” Lord Antony said casually. “We’re not here to interrupt your work. My attendant and I missed the delivery of his breakfast this morning, so I wanted something for him to eat.”

“Of course, my lord,” one of the men said nervously. “We’d be honored to deliver some-”

“Please don’t trouble yourselves,” Hanyu blurted. “I could just have some bread or something, whatever you have on hand.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Lord Antony snapped. “I drank from you last night. You need something hearty.”

“Would eggs suffice, my lord?” the man ventured.

The god glanced over at Hanyu. “Certainly, as long as one remembers that swallowing is the step that follows chewing.”

Hanyu laughed. “I’ll try to remember, my lord.”

Was his master teasing him? The statement had lacked any bite, so it didn’t seem like a true reprimand. Instead, it felt like Asao ribbing him about the time Hanyu set his robe on fire. Hanyu found himself grinning down at Lord Antony, feeling warm and full all through his body despite his hunger.

“Good,” the god told the galley workers. “See to it. Come, Hanyu.”

It felt rather anticlimactic to turn right around and head back to their own chambers, but Hanyu didn’t really mind. He liked walking with Lord Antony and having others see him in his master’s company. It made him feel like they were truly… together, in some way. Connected.

The god tensed up again as they walked past all the doors. Hanyu had been walking two steps behind him, as protocol required, but the tightness in Lord Antony’s shoulders sent a pang through him and he dared to pull forward until they were walking level with one another. The god didn’t scold him, and Hanyu continued to keep step with him.

Suddenly, a door swung open with a soft squeak of badly oiled hinges. Before Hanyu could even register the motion, Lord Antony had put out an arm and swept it back, knocking Hanyu behind him with that divine strength that his offering so often forgot he possessed.

A tall woman with skin even darker than Lord Antony’s and the tapered ears of a god stepped out of the room. She smiled coolly when she saw them and dipped her head.

“Hello, Lord Antony,” she greeted.

“Julia,” his master replied, relaxing.

Hanyu bowed deeply, though Lord Antony’s hand reached up to touch his shoulder and prevent him from kneeling as he would have done. The god- Lord Julia, apparently- shut her door and moved past them. Lord Antony sighed.

“Come on,” he said heavily, and they made their way back to their chambers in silence.

Once they were through the door, the god truly relaxed. He rolled his shoulders and stretched luxuriously.

“That’s better,” he said. That same overly bright cheer was back in his voice. “I don’t imagine you’ll have to wait long for your meal.”

Hanyu stomach rumbled again, and he blushed. “That’s true. Thank you for your trouble. You’re kind to think of me… An… Ant…”

Why couldn’t he force the word out? He’d blurted it without a thought last night, but now it seemed like some powerful force was pressing on his lips and keeping the god’s name behind them. He looked down, self-conscious.

“For goodness’ sake, boy, don’t hurt yourself,” Lord Antony said. “Don’t call me anything if it’s such a strain.”

The god disappeared into the bedchamber. Hanyu wanted to follow, but he hadn’t had the chance to wash up yet so he went to his own closet of a washroom and used last night’s water, wondering whether the kitchen would send him a fresh pitcher with his belated breakfast. The saltwater stung his eyes and left the skin of his face feeling a little stiff, but it was still so good to slough away the night’s sweat.

When the knock finally came, Hanyu sprang for the door with the enthusiasm of a lover. The man who had been feeding the fire stood in the hall, holding a tray and glancing nervously around himself.

“Thank you so much!” Hanyu cried, feeling almost teary with gratitude at the sight of the fluffy yellow pile of eggs. “This was so kind of you.”

“Lord Antony’s never taken such an interest in an offering before,” the man replied, looking Hanyu over with a rather uncomplimentary air of confusion. “We’re happy to help you in any way you need. Lord Felix and Lord Julia each keep a stock of healing unguents, should you need them.”

“Oh?” Hanyu’s mind flashed to Lord Antony’s injuries, the way he had hissed in pain when he tried to crouch down, and suddenly he understood. He felt himself flush. “Oh! N-no, thank you, nothing like that!”

“Of course.” The man looked at him pityingly. “Well, ask around if anything changes.”

When Hanyu shut the door and turned to the table with his tray, he found Lord Antony already sitting there, looking amused.

“M-my lord!” he sputtered, flushing more deeply.

Damn. If he’d known the god was listening, he’d have tried to make his denial smoother, more seductive… “Sadly, my lord has not yet granted me the honor of his bed, but I eagerly await the day I will be able to avail myself of your kind offer.” Would that have been too much? Maybe. If he tweaked the end a bit-

“Come on, pet, eat your food,” Lord Antony ordered, and Hanyu shook himself from his pointless rehashing and wriggled obediently into his seat.

“I thought we might start another painting today, if you swear to tell me when you need to piss or eat,” the god said as Hanyu began shoveling eggs into his mouth. He was so hungry it was difficult to eat politely, but he was determined to make a better showing with these eggs than their predecessors.

“Do you still have that gold robe you were wearing when I returned from the battle?” Lord Antony asked. “That would look very fine in a painting.”

“Of course, my lord!” Hanyu spooned up another heaping bite of eggs, then hesitated before putting it in his mouth. “Should I do my makeup the same way, too?”

“Yes, if you like,” the god replied. “You should definitely use that gold powder on your eyes again. That was lovely.”

“Of course.” Hanyu smiled around his bite. So, he was still lovely.

Once Hanyu finished eating, he changed into the required robe and did his makeup. He came out to find Lord Antony setting up his easel. His god looked up at him and frowned.

“Aren’t you going to do anything with your hair?” he asked.

Hanyu put his hand up to the back of his neck, suddenly self-conscious. He’d caught his hair up in the same gold net as before. “Does it look bad?” he asked plaintively.

“Not in the least,” his master replied. “But it’s a waste not to do anything with all that hair. Here, go fetch a comb.”

When Hanyu returned with his comb the god was sitting on the sofa with a selection of glittering jeweled hairpins laid out on the cushion beside him. He looked up at Hanyu, then gestured to a large pillow that he’d set on the floor at his feet.

“Sit down,” he ordered, and Hanyu obeyed.

Once he was settled at his master’s feet, Lord Antony pulled the net from his hair with careful fingers. Those same fingers then plucked the comb from Hanyu’s hands and set to work.

Hanyu couldn’t believe how good it felt to have the god combing his hair. He’d never known that a scalp could be an erogenous zone, or that he could feel so aroused and so soothed both at once. Lord Antony was quick and skilled, but careful, so that the light tugging was never very painful. Hanyu tried to hold himself stiffly upright at first, but before long he found himself sagging bonelessly against the god’s knees.

“You must be very proud of your hair,” Lord Antony said as he pulled the comb slowly through the soft strands. There was a quick, sharp tug as the comb’s teeth found a knot, and the god stopped pulling and began working at the tangle with his fingers.

“Not really,” Hanyu said dreamily. “I got teased for it a lot when I was little. The priests always said that it was an asset and the gods would find it pleasing, but the other children thought it looked strange and ugly.”

“Ugly?” The god sounded personally affronted. “That’s preposterous!”

“Thank you, my lord.” Hanyu smiled and closed his eyes to better enjoy the sensations. With the snarl conquered, the god returned to his combing.

“I don’t see why you would believe a bunch of snot-nosed miscreants over the priests,” Lord Antony grumbled.

Hanyu shrugged. “You know how it is at that age. The other children matter a whole lot more than a bunch of boring grownups.”

“Is that so?” The god sounded fascinated. “But the adults have more position and experience, so it would be reasonable to care more for their opinions.”

Hanyu couldn’t help laughing at that. Lord Antony sounded almost… naïve, which was almost certainly blasphemy, but it was also strangely endearing.

“That would be more reasonable, my lord, but you know perfectly well that people aren’t reasonable, and children are even less so,” he said once his giggles had died away.

“Hmmm,” the god hummed, his voice soft and faraway. “I had forgotten. It’s been so many hundreds of years since I spoke with a child.”

They sat quietly for a moment as Hanyu got his courage up to ask the question that was burning in his brain. Finally, as the god set down the comb and began separating his hair into little strands, he decided to just spit it out.

“Were you ever a child, my lord?” he asked.

Lord Antony chuffed a little in surprise. “Of course I was a child, boy, don’t be ridiculous.”

“I wasn’t sure,” Hanyu defended himself. “You don’t breathe or relieve yourself, how should I know what you do?”

“I suppose that’s fair.” The god worked quietly for a moment. “Yes, I was a child. But it was an extremely long time ago.”

“What were you like?” Hanyu couldn’t contain his curiosity.

Would the child Antony have been clever and sarcastic, like he was now? His brusqueness and easy authority seemed like traits that no child could possess, but perhaps he had. Or had he been something else entirely? Had he been rash, or silly, or lazy, or prone to losing his temper? Had the passage of such incomprehensible amounts of time changed him into someone entirely unrecognizable as the child he once was?

“I hardly even remember,” the god said, and he sounded so sad that Hanyu wished he hadn’t asked. “I think I was well-behaved. I had Theo, and I loved her and my mother and my twin sister and little brother more than anything. Our courtyard was the happiest place I could imagine- it still is, I suppose.”

He sank into silence, and Hanyu didn’t dare to speak and disturb him. His mind, however, was racing. Lord Antony and Lord Claudia were twins? He hadn’t known that. He had also never thought of the three gods having a mother. They were widely believed to be some kind of night deities… Was their mother the moon? Were they unable to return to her?

“What about you?” Lord Antony’s voice sounded stronger, more like his usual confident tones. “What kind of child were you?”

“I was terrible!” Hanyu laughed. “Just like now, I suppose.”

“You’re not terrible!” The god tapped his head with a single finger in gentle reproof. He sounded indignant, almost scandalized, despite the careful gentleness of the tap. “I’m enjoying talking with you more than I’ve enjoyed anything in a very long time, and if your talk has showed anything it’s that you aren’t terrible. You are extremely kind, which is not a quality I see much of anymore. I’m sure you were a good child.”

Hanyu sat frozen, astounded by the god’s words. He felt tears prickling his eyes, and he felt a sudden urge to turn his head and press a gentle, grateful kiss to the hands working in his hair. He fought it down, determined not to disrupt his master’s work.

“You must have had a lot of friends, even if they teased you,” Lord Antony prompted.

Hanyu swallowed and did his best to restrain his tears. “I did. Asao and I were best friends from the beginning, I think, but our whole cadre was always close. We did everything together. And I’m sorry to contradict you, my lord, but I really was terrible. I cried about everything, even good things. I talked all the time. I never thought before saying or doing anything. I used to get distracted in our lessons and start drawing something or talking to the children around me, or else I would just pretend I had to piss so they would let me get up and move around.”

“You’re like that now, and it isn’t terrible.”

Hanyu laughed, a little shakily as tears continued to threaten. “The priests would disagree with you there.”

“Wouldn’t that be blasphemy?” Lord Antony mused.

“If only Asao was here, we could ask him,” Hanyu replied, and was surprised by the sudden stiffening of the god’s fingers in his hair.

“Yes,” Lord Antony said carefully. “What did you do besides lessons?”

“We ran around the temple and caused trouble, of course,” Hanyu replied. “We would play games in the courtyards, try to raid the pantries, sneak into the older boys’ rooms and try on their clothes and makeup, read adventure books, climb trees-”

“Oh!” Lord Antony gasped and pulled a strand of hair sharply, probably more sharply than he’d intended to do. “Climbing trees! I forgot about climbing trees. I used to do that, too! Mother had a chestnut tree in her courtyard, and we used to swarm up it and shake down the nuts. They were such a lovely glossy brown they almost glowed in the sun once the spines were off. Your eyes are rather like them, now that I think about it.”

Hanyu felt his face flush and his whole body loosen happily at the compliment. He leaned further into the god’s touch.

“You’re spoiling me today, my lord,” he sighed. “No one’s ever-”

Ever what? Paid him so many compliments? He’d had compliments, though never from someone with so little reason to lie or flatter him. Perhaps it was simply the matter-of-fact, almost annoyed way the god listed his virtues or praised his beauty, as if Hanyu’s good points were evident to all the world and he was simply being deliberately blind to them himself. Perhaps it was the fact that Lord Antony was so indignant when Hanyu called himself terrible. Perhaps it was his gentle fingers in Hanyu’s hair. Perhaps it was all of these things. Regardless, Hanyu had never felt so cared for in his entire life.

“You’re mine,” the god replied. “I can spoil you if I want. Anyhow, this is pleasant. I find your company… soothing, today.”

Hanyu was on the brink of asking what a powerful, immortal god like his master could possibly need to be soothed from, then he remembered the abrasions on his wrists and the way he flinched when he shifted position. Hanyu swallowed the foolish question and let the god continue his work.

After a moment, the fingers withdrew and there was a cold touch of metal sliding against Hanyu’s scalp.

“Stand up and let me see you, pet,” Lord Antony instructed. When Hanyu obeyed, the god smiled his small, reluctant smile, clearly pleased.

“You look perfect,” he said, and Hanyu flushed and grinned and fought the impulse to duck his head, instead lifting his chin to show off his face better. After all, his master thought he was lovely, and good, and nice to talk with, and he really ought to start acting like it. Lord Antony’s smile broadened.

“May I go look at it?” Hanyu asked.

Lord Antony waved him off, and he hurried to the god’s washroom. In the mirror, he couldn’t see all of his new hairstyle no matter how he twisted his body and craned his neck. It wasn’t like the beautification rooms at the temple, where every wall was lined with mirrors so the offerings could critique and perfect themselves from every angle.

After a moment of Hanyu’s futile turning and peering, Lord Antony padded into the room.

“I can’t see it, my lord!” Hanyu whined.

“Of course you can’t see it like this,” the god replied. “Do you have a mirror in your washroom?”

“Oh.” Hanyu felt foolish. “I do, yes.”

“Well, go get it,” his master instructed, and Hanyu obeyed. When he returned with the little hand mirror, the god extended a hand, and he surrendered it.

“Now you need to stand with your back to the mirror,” Lord Antony told him. As soon as Hanyu was in position, the god lifted the smaller mirror up in front of his face. He peered into the little frame and finally saw what his master had been doing all this time.

Lord Antony had pulled some of Hanyu’s hair into small, tight braids, then woven those braids into larger, looser braids that came together in the middle of his head and fell down his neck. The rest of his hair was left to tumble free underneath the arrangement, and at the top of it all Lord Antony had stuck in a glittering hairpin made of gold and set with jewels, fashioned to look like stalks of wheat caught in a sheaf.

“I love it!” Hanyu cried. “Thank you, An… My lord.”

“Fine hair deserves attention,” the god said dismissively. Then he hesitated, and his eyes lifted to meet Hanyu’s. “It was… pleasant to do. We should do it again soon.”

“I’m yours, my lord, hair included,” Hanyu said, smiling at him. The longer he belonged to Lord Antony, the more he liked the thought. “You can do with me as you like.”

The god flinched a little at the words.

Hanyu couldn’t think why the plain truth would make him uncomfortable, but Lord Antony was in a strange mood today. He didn’t mind. It was a soft, gentle mood, a mood in which he wanted to talk with Hanyu and touch him and compliment him and make him feel good, so as far as Hanyu was concerned, this was proving to be an excellent day.

Chapter Text

ANTONY’S POV

As Antony watched Hanyu admiring himself in the hand mirror, he was more relaxed than he’d been in a long time.

That was a strange way to feel after everything that had happened to him last night, he supposed, but it was true. Marcus had the sadism out of his system now, so everything would be much more pleasant going forward. He’d be sweet and conciliatory in public, and when they had a chance to go to bed together he would be almost doting. He’d probably go easier on poor Asao, too. Yes, everything was going to be much nicer now.

Things were already nice. Antony’s fingers working Hanyu’s tumble of golden hair had felt wonderful- he really would like to do that again soon. It was good to feel those gentle touches in a safe way, a way he could control. He’d thought about asking the boy for a massage, but he hadn’t felt quite ready to lie down and feel another’s hands on him. It was much better to be doing the touching, not receiving it.

He liked watching Hanyu preen in the mirror. He still couldn’t believe that the boy didn’t pride himself on his hair. It was so lovely, how could the other children have mocked it? The thought annoyed Antony inordinately, but he liked that when he told Hanyu he was beautiful, his offering seemed to believe him, and be pleased. He liked pleasing Hanyu.

He knew this loose, happy feeling that flooded his body as he pampered the boy was dangerous, but today he felt so vulnerable and soft that he didn’t really care. Being with Hanyu, touching Hanyu, talking with Hanyu, making Hanyu smile- it felt like wrapping both of them in a giant warm blanket and hiding from everything else in the world. It felt amazing.

“I love it!” the boy enthused. “Thank you, An… my lord.”

Hanyu was clearly having trouble spitting his name out. Antony rather wished he hadn’t offered him the option. He hadn’t intended to complicate the boy’s life, only to stop him from fussing about his slip-up the night before. Anyhow, it was the truth. Antony didn’t care if the boy used his name. He was so used to hearing ‘Antony’ and ‘my lord’ both that he’d come to see them as interchangeable. It hadn’t even registered in his pain-fogged mind that Hanyu had used his name until he’d seen the horror on the boy’s ashen face.

“Fine hair deserves attention,” Antony told Hanyu now, doing his best to keep his voice light and even. His offhandedness crumbled a little as the boy’s face split into an even wider grin. Damn it, why did his joy have to be so obvious? And so gratifying? It pleased and soothed Antony in every corner of his mind, and he found himself speaking aloud.

“It was… pleasant to do. We should do it again soon.”

What he wanted to say was, “We should do this every day. Every time I wake up, I want to be able to look forward to chatting with you while I arrange your hair.”

The boy beamed at him as if he’d heard the silent part as well. “I’m yours, my lord, hair included. You can do with me as you like.”

Antony’s insides squirmed uncomfortably at those words. They were true… of course they were. He’d used them often enough himself as an excuse for why he could be softer on the boy than the others would have likely advised. But still, they reminded him a little too much of what he’d said to Marcus yesterday, and what had followed. He didn’t ever want to make someone feel the way he’d felt at that moment, especially not his cheerful, gentle, fragile Hanyu.

When the boy told him he could do whatever he wanted with him, he didn’t have the faintest idea what that encompassed. He didn’t know what Antony could do to a human, what he had done to humans, and the unthinkingly trustful, worshipful way he said the words and gazed down at the vampire made Antony feel a little sick and… unworthy? Strange as it was to admit, even to himself, yes. That was it. Unworthy.

Antony lowered the mirror and turned away from Hanyu to put it on the table.

“Being at another’s disposal can be… hard. I do not want to make things hard for you.”

“You don’t!” Hanyu rushed to assure him. “I’m very happy, my lord.”

“No platitudes,” Antony snapped, still not turning around. “You don't have to lie. I know you're not happy. You’re crying your eyes out half the time.”

“I’ve always cried a lot,” Hanyu said. “It doesn't mean I'm not content, though I suppose I was unhappy when you made me put my pallet in the sitting room. I never did find out, my lord, what did I do wrong that first night?”

Antony remembered how casually he’d decided to banish the boy. He’d never thought it would make him so miserable…

He hadn’t thought. He’d never considered how Hanyu would interpret the order to move his cot. Hell, he’d barely been aware that the boy was thinking and feeling anything. When was the last time he'd considered any offering's feelings at all? When had he grown so callous? Didn’t he used to be the bleeding heart out of his siblings? He finally turned to face the boy, who was peering at him a little nervously as he awaited his answer.

“You didn’t do anything wrong, Hanyu,” he said. “Truly. I just didn’t like how happy you were. I found it confusing, and a little tiring.”

“Oh!” The boy looked stricken. “I might have known. I’ve been told a thousand times that I’m too enthusiastic. I’m so sorry, my lord, I can-”

“No,” Antony interrupted. “I was… I changed my mind. It pleases me to see you cheerful, even if I still don’t understand why you are.”

“Why wouldn’t I be?” Hanyu blinked in confusion at him. “You’re so kind to me!”

Antony felt that pang of unworthiness again. He pushed past it.

“I didn’t mean to make you unhappy by sending you out of the room,” he said. “I’m glad you’re back in it now, though.”

The look Hanyu gave him was so rapturous that even Antony’s currently dulled sense of danger sprang to life, and he averted his gaze.

“This way I can kick you when you snore,” he said. “Now come on, I want to start painting you.”

Hanyu followed him obediently to the sitting room and submitted to Antony’s efforts at posing him, albeit with pupils blown wide and parted lips. Such frank sexual desire was hardly unusual among Antony’s crew- after a thousand years, few of them bothered with coyness anymore- but he still wished the boy wouldn’t want him quite so blatantly.

Oh, well. There were a few hours of daylight left before he had to go face everyone, and he intended to enjoy them. He sat down at his easel and set to work.

HANYU’S POV

Hanyu liked the new pose much better. Instead of draping elegantly over the couch, Lord Antony had him leaning forward, his elbows planted on his knees and his chin cupped in his hands.

“It’s the way you were sitting when you listened to me play,” the god explained as he settled onto his stool.

“Oh!” Hanyu smiled at the memory. “You play so well, my lord. It made me a little sad, but I loved to listen.”

“I thought I was the one doing the flattering today.” Nonetheless, Lord Antony looked pleased by the compliment. “Anyhow, it would be very embarrassing if I hadn’t developed a little skill, given all the time I’ve spent practicing.”

“What was the first instrument you learned?” Hanyu asked. The god seemed to have mastered plenty of them, and he’d certainly had time to learn as many as he liked, but Hanyu wondered which instrument had first captured his attention and made him want to play.

“The first I tried to learn was the flute,” Lord Antony said after a long moment’s consideration. “Someone…” The god’s voice trailed off, and for an instant he looked absolutely horrorstruck. Then he gave his head a little shake and glared down at the easel. “The first I actually mastered was a small handheld drum. I don’t have one to show you.”

His face and voice had turned as inviting as a summer day in the desert. Hanyu decided to change the subject.

“Will you stay in tonight, my lord?” he asked. “I don’t mind staying up late if you want to keep working on the painting.”

“No,” the god replied immediately. “I need to deliver some coordinates to Theodora, and anyhow, it wouldn’t do to hide away in here all night. Best to be seen out and about.”

“Of course, my lord.” Hanyu couldn’t help being a little disappointed. He’d hoped that the strange intimacy of the day might continue for a while longer, but he supposed it made sense that the lord of the gods would be too busy to spend all his time petting and painting a human slave.

“I’m going to take you to the upper deck with me tonight,” Lord Antony said, furrowing his brow as he dabbed at his canvas. “Theodora would like to talk with you sometime, and this is as good a time as any to indulge her.” He looked up at Hanyu and smiled. “I think she’s going to like you very much.”

Hanyu goggled at the god. “Lord Theodora wants to speak to me? Truly?”

His master rolled his eyes, but his smile stayed in place. “Do you think I have nothing better to do with my time than make up lies to tell you, pet?”

He was ‘pet’ again! But Hanyu barely registered this in his sudden excitement. “But- but they say she can speak to every drop of water and grain of sand in the whole sea! That she can steer through a storm as easily as a tailor threads a needle! That she taught our ancestors how to fashion their fishing boats so they won’t be overturned! We sing "Theodora’s Lay" whenever the fleet goes out to fish the deeper waters, and when they return! We-”

“Hanyu.”

“Yes, my lord?”

“Breathe. Then be quiet.”

“Sorry, my lord.” He dragged in a breath, but it didn’t calm the wild hammering of his heart. What would a towering legendary figure like Lord Theodora want with him?

“She wants to see you because when I was telling her about you, she thought you sounded amusing,” Lord Antony said, returning his gaze to his canvas.

Hanyu gawped at him in blind astonishment for a long moment, which Lord Antony didn’t seem to notice with his eyes still fixed on the canvas, but finally Hanyu managed to choke out strangled words.

“You were… you spoke to the other gods about me, my lord?” Hanyu couldn’t stop the happy tears that sprang to his eyes, or the smile that split his face.

“I told them you were irritating,” the god grumbled, but there was no real bite to the words. “And loud. And incapable of holding still for even the- heavens, boy, stop blubbering! I’m sorry I said you were irritating. I told you I wasn’t going to get rid of you!”

“Th-That’s not why I’m crying, my lord.” Hanyu swiped at the hot tears and snot streaking his face, ignoring Lord Antony’s squawk of protest at his movement. “I’m just… so happy. Thank you for-” Talking about me. Thinking about me. Letting me matter to you.

It was dizzying to think that Hanyu was taking up space in a mind that had guarded and guided his people for a thousand years, but he felt as if he might melt with joy. He had been trained since earliest childhood to be the perfect servant, invisible and unobtrusive. But through some beautiful, undeserved miracle, he had the attention of the god around whom his world revolved.

“You’ll ruin your makeup,” Lord Antony groused. His complaints grew louder when Hanyu rolled from the sofa, then subsided as he crawled to the god’s feet and embraced his leg.

Perhaps Hanyu should have felt foolish, clutching and crying happily into a trouser leg. But he craved the god’s touch so badly that in the moment, it was hard to care. He dropped to the floor to press tearful, grateful kisses to Lord Antony’s feet, then rested his cheek against them and continued hugging his ankles.

No doubt his makeup was indeed ruined. He was flopped gracelessly on the floor. His face was a mess of tears and snot. And Hanyu had never felt more special and beautiful and cared for.

“For goodness’ sake, pet.” The god’s voice was heartbreakingly gentle, as was his hand in Hanyu’s hair. He almost sounded… hesitant, though that was of course impossible. He stroked Hanyu’s hair in long, light movements that made Hanyu’s whole body ache with want. “There’s no need to carry on like that. It’s just an introduction.”

“It’s not.” Hanyu pressed into Lord Antony’s hand. “Um. Forgive me for contradicting you, my lord. But it isn’t just that. I’m… so grateful that you would… think of me outside these rooms. My lord.”

“Shit, Hanyu, of course I think about you,” his master said, sounding strangely surprised and young. “You don’t give me much choice. You’re always saying or doing something strange. It demands attention. I assumed that’s why you were doing it, to be honest. I can hardly stop you.”

Hanyu shook his head, feeling his cheek scrape over the god’s boots. “You could have told me to stop, and I would have tried to obey. You could have locked me in the closet. You could have sent me away.”

“Don’t be ridiculous.” Lord Antony’s voice was a little firmer now. “Though I know that’s difficult for you. Maybe I didn’t like the way you are at first, but your liveliness is a gift to me. As Theodora herself pointed out, there’s only fifty of us on this ship, and we’ve all been together for a very long time. It’s good to have somebody new in my life.”

“But you have new offerings all the time,” Hanyu argued. “I’ve met Eiji… he was one of the handsomest men I’ve ever seen, and he was probably a much better attendant than I am.”

Stupid perfect beautiful Eiji. Hanyu had never understood when the rest of his cadre grumbled about Asao showing them all up- he’d always been so far from the top that it hadn’t mattered so much who had the position. Why get angry and jealous about someone else’s virtues?

Now he understood.

“Eiji,” Lord Antony repeated. “The one you replaced. Yes, he was a better attendant. But you’re better company, and a better… I like you better, much better. Even if you just smeared your makeup all over my trousers.”

Hanyu laughed a little. “Sorry, Antony.”

There it was, easy and natural as anything. The god’s name slipping from his mouth felt like relaxing, like his body sagging against Antony’s legs and knowing that his master would hold him up, like feeling truly at ease in his body and his place in the world for the first time in his life.

He felt like he’d been waiting forever to hear those words. “You’re not the better attendant, but I like you better.” Perhaps everything about him was not wrong, did not make him a bad offering and a bad fit for his life. Perhaps he was finally seen and valued for exactly what he was, even the parts of him that conflicted with his role. Perhaps he didn’t have to be a perfect attendant to be precious to his god.

Perhaps his master, his Antony, liked him.

Chapter Text

ANTONY’S POV

Antony’s nerves thrummed as he escorted Hanyu to the upper deck. He had insisted that the boy break protocol by walking right at his side so he could keep an eye on him. He knew it was irrational to worry that Hanyu would be snatched. No one would dare to lay so much as a finger on Antony’s attendant uninvited, let alone spirit him away from his master’s side in broad moonlight. But he couldn’t help feeling as though it was terribly dangerous for Hanyu to be out of his quarters.

It didn’t help that the damn boy seemed to share exactly none of Antony’s nerves. He looked as if he was on his way to a picnic where the menu consisted of sex, unicorn riding, and all his wildest dreams come true. Hanyu was thrilled by a lot of things, and going abovedeck with Antony seemed to be among them.

Or perhaps it was simply the promise of meeting Theodora. Antony was trying not to take it personally that the boy who didn’t seem the least bothered by him was so awestruck by his navigator. There was no denying that Theodora was a far better hero and role model than he was, but he couldn’t help grousing over the boy’s litany of stories and songs about her. He wondered whether there were any that starred him.

There was no way to ask that wouldn’t make him feel ridiculous.

“Kenta says she’s nice,” Hanyu fretted at his side. “Would you say that?”

“Nice?” Antony pondered. “She… can be.”

During the bad times, first their exile and then his own troubles some years later, her kindness had sometimes been the only thing that made him feel safe and able to go on. She hadn’t said much to console him. Her manners were rough and not much suited to comfort. But she had never turned him away, no matter how busy she was or how unbearable his misery made him. She’d always been ready to distract him with a game, or put an arm around his shoulders and listen to whatever half-deranged black thoughts he needed to spew into the air to keep his brain from cannibalizing itself on them, or just let him sprawl on her bed and sob into her lap. He must have been miserable company, but she had never once complained.

But once he took up with Marcus she had turned sharp and acerbic, with only occasional moments of softness towards him. He would still consider her his best friend, he supposed, if he were pressed to name one, but it had been a long time since he would have called her ‘nice.’

Still. He’d never seen her treat a human badly, or even rudely. Kenta was probably telling the truth.

“She’ll be nice to you,” he concluded at last. “She’s quiet and a little gruff sometimes, but you can’t assume that means she’s angry or bored. It’s just the way she is.”

It occurred to him that Hanyu was not unused to irascible ‘gods’ but thankfully, the boy did not seem inclined to point this out.

“Right, yes.” Hanyu breathed deeply. “Thank you, my lord.”

“You don’t have to be so nervous,” Antony grumbled. “She’s not going to do anything to you.”

“I know, but it’s Lord Theodora!” Hanyu groaned. Antony was about to be very offended when the boy tipped his face down to flash him a look of such happy trust that it almost stopped him in his tracks. “I’d be scared to death if I didn’t have you there to look after me.”

Damn. Why did his entire chest feel like it was being squeezed? He would think the boy was trying to flatter and manipulate him if he weren’t looking into that guileless, worshipful face.

“I’m not your bodyguard,” he groused.

“I know, my lord,” the boy replied. “But you wouldn’t let anybody hurt me. I’m yours.”

Yes, Hanyu was his. And he wanted that fact to do the boy some good for a change.

He felt a little guilty about it, but he hoped the meeting between Hanyu and Theodora wouldn’t go too well. He hadn’t forgotten that she had intended to claim Hanyu. If he and Theodora got along as well as Antony suspected they would, then he would know for sure that he had ruined Hanyu’s chance at what was probably the best outcome for any human on this ship. The priests back in Tacia might hold forth about how belonging to Antony was the highest honor possible for the boys, and belonging to Marcus the second highest, but there was no denying the fact that belonging to Theodora resulted in the longest, most pleasant life.

As for belonging to Marcus… he flinched away from the thought of Asao’s brutalized body. There was nothing more he could do for the boy, and it did neither of them any good for him to keep turning the situation over in his mind, looking for a crack that wasn’t there.

When they arrived on the upper deck, Hanyu gasped happily.

“Look, my lord!” he cried, pointing. “It’s Kenta!”

So it was. Antony recognized the boy, stouter and shorter than most of the offerings, from Marcus’ attempt to bargain for him. He realized, with a pang of irritation, that now that he’d heard Hanyu’s stories of Kenta’s post-rain activities he thought of him as ‘the worm boy.’

The worm boy was standing next to a human so old that he looked as if the slightest breeze would blow him into dust. The man’s skin hung from his chin in a long, trembly flap, and his cheeks sagged off their bones. His eyes were cloudy over a nose like melted wax. Only the barest feathering of hair still clung to his spotted head. His hands were gnarled and discolored, and the one shook where it gripped Kenta’s arm. The man was carefully wrapped in layers of warm clothes, so Antony could only guess at the wreck of a body beneath. He barely restrained a shudder.

Was Hanyu really going to look like that one day, if he lived? Antony's mind recoiled from the idea. When he hoped for signs of aging in his own body, he envisioned a graceful, dignified age such as his people back home enjoyed, not this... devastation. Were humans under some curse of their own?

“Hello, Kenta!” Hanyu greeted cheerily, seemingly unbothered by the specter of his own potential future. “And this must be Chujiro!”

Kenta darted frightened eyes up to Antony’s face and let out a soft squeak. His knees began to buckle, but Antony put out a hand.

“No need to bow,” he said hastily. He was fairly certain that the old man… Chujiro?... would not be capable of holding himself upright without the worm boy’s support.

“Thank you, my lord,” Kenta said, visibly relieved. Shyly, he looked away from Antony and glanced at his friend. “Hello, Hanyu. Yes, this is Chujiro. Chujiro, meet my good friend Hanyu.”

“Hanyu,” the old man repeated in a voice as papery as his skin. “Don’t know any Hanyu. He’s not from our cadre.”

“No, he isn’t,” Kenta replied, ignoring the strangeness of the statement. “He belongs to Lord Antony.”

“Lord Antony?” That name got a bit of a reaction. Antony might have been gratified if he hadn’t been so dismayed at the man’s decrepitude. “Goro is so sure Lord Antony will choose him. He can be unbearable sometimes, you know. But I think I’ve got as much chance as he does!”

“I agree.” That voice was low and rough, but unmistakably feminine.

Hanyu squeaked, not nearly as softly as Kenta had done, and dropped into his bow as Theodora came to join them, but her eyes stayed fixed on Chujiro. She was smiling, her eyes shining with such plain affection that Antony felt vaguely voyeuristic for watching as she leaned to press a soft kiss to the old man’s withered cheek. His cloudy eyes brightened in recognition.

“My lord!” he cried, beginning to stoop forward as if he would bow like Hanyu. Theodora stopped him with a gentle hand.

“No need, Chujiro,” she said. “How are you finding the night air? Are you warm enough?”

“Yes, my lord,” he replied, smiling at her. Antony felt a strange pang at the clear affection that bound them. “I’m very comfortable. This one’s a good boy.” He patted Kenta’s arm.

“Yes, he is.” Theodora turned the warmth of her smile onto the worm boy, who ducked his head and beamed under her rough approval.

“Thank you, my lord,” Kenta said with a pleased grin.

“Hello, Antony,” Theodora said, finally turning her attention to him. “And this must be Hanyu.”

Hanyu said something unintelligible into the slats of the deck.

“Unfortunately, yes,” Antony said. Then, to take the sting out of the words, he stooped to help the boy to his feet. “Come on, pet, get up. Let her look at you.”

Hanyu allowed himself to be raised to his feet, but once he was up he stared mute and wide-eyed at Theodora’s collarbone, seemingly unable to lift his gaze any higher. He definitely had not been this starstruck when he first met Antony.

After a painfully awkward moment, during which Theodora also started to look a little panicked, Antony nudged him.

“Well, go on, boy,” he said. “Surely you can manage a hello.”

“Hello, my lord,” Hanyu choked out, at the same time that Theodora snapped, “Don’t be so condescending, Antony.”

“He’s not!” Hanyu cried, sounding stung, and everyone looked at him. He gulped and added a belated, “My lord.”

“You’re good to defend him,” Theodora said with a slow smile. “But you should know, he said you were annoying.”

“I am,” Hanyu said with a shrug.

“Not so annoying, now that I’m used to him,” Antony put in.

Theodora’s smile stretched wider, and the worm boy looked pleased, too. But Chujiro was blinking and darting his gaze around, looking suddenly confused and irascible.

“You!” he snapped, pointing a shaking finger in Theodora’s face with the hand that wasn’t clutching Kenta’s arm. “Girl! Take a message to Father Hiroya, if you’re not as stupid as you are ugly. Tell him that our recitation instructor never showed up this morning.”

Antony felt himself go cold. Hanyu froze, paling, and even Kenta darted a nervous, pleading look at Theodora. The worm boy opened his mouth, probably to intercede on Chujiro’s behalf, but Theodora was already speaking.

“Of course, sir,” she said, smiling sadly at the old man. “I’ll take these fellows with me as well.”

“Fine, fine,” Chujiro said loftily, waving his hand in dismissal.

Theodora gave a clumsy sway that was probably supposed to be a curtsy, then looked at Antony and Hanyu and tilted her chin, indicating that they should follow her. They did, and as they walked away from Kenta and Chujiro Antony could hear the old man saying, “Let’s go to the library, Goro.”

“It’s better to play along,” Theodora said once they were far enough away not to be overheard. “I don’t want to upset him by disputing what time he’s in.”

“You let him speak to you like that, my lord?” Hanyu asked incredulously.

Theodora cast a sorrowful look back over her shoulder. “I’m sure he never actually spoke to the servants at the temple that way. He’s the sweetest man. He’s not himself sometimes, that’s all.” Then, with a little smile, “Kenta’s sweet, too. He’s so good with him, and with Gyuri- the woman,” she added at Antony’s bewildered look. “Even she likes him, and she hates everything. She reminds me of you sometimes, Antony. Hanyu and Kenta both are examples of how far a little kindness can go with your sort, I suppose.”

“Kenta’s always been awfully kind,” Hanyu said, and Antony realized that they’d stumbled onto the boy’s favorite topic.

Hanyu repeated the story about Kenta and the worms, which made Theodora smile in obvious delight. Antony rolled his eyes and guided their steps towards the steering dais, but he couldn’t muster any real irritation at Hanyu’s pleasure in praising his friend or Theodora’s pleasure in listening.

He had to rejoin them when they walked past the glow of the torches and Hanyu stumbled and nearly toppled. Antony had forgotten how useless human eyes could be in the dark. Grumbling a little under his breath, he seized the boy’s hand and placed it on his shoulder so he could guide him, pretending he didn’t see Hanyu’s blush.

“Which songs does Kenta like best?” Theodora asked the boy, ignoring Antony’s return. “Hisao let slip which kind of music I like best and now he won’t sing anything else.”

Antony snorted. “You’ve got the poor boy singing those awful soppy love ballads of yours?”

Theodora rolled her eyes at him. “Come judge my music when you’ve learned to navigate on a cloudy night like this. Until then, you’d better keep me happy, Lord Antony.”

“That reminds me.” As if he’d been able to forget. Antony reached into his pocket for the coordinates Claudia had sent him. “I came up here to-”

“Wait a moment, Antony,” Theodora interrupted, and he did, seething a little. “Hanyu? About the music?”

“Kenta likes most everything,” Hanyu said promptly. “Except murder ballads. He’s wonderful at singing them, but they give him nightmares.”

“No murder ballads,” Theodora said. “Understood. Anything else?”

“He likes songs about the gods, but he might be too shy to sing them in front of you, my lord,” Hanyu replied.

Dammit, he was going to force Antony to ask if any of those songs were about him.

“If we’re done dissecting musical genres?” He waved the paper under Theodora’s nose. “We need to sail to these coordinates.”

She snatched the paper and looked at it. “Why?”

“Because those are my orders, Theodora!” Antony snapped.

Two pairs of eyes turned on him. Hanyu’s were wide and frightened, Theodora’s narrowed and unimpressed. Antony sighed gustily and fought down the fear that gripped him when he thought about their new mission.

Well. It wouldn’t make Titus any more lost for someone other than him and Claudia to know the situation.

“Those are my brother’s last known coordinates,” he said roughly. “We haven’t heard from him in weeks. Is that sufficient reason for Your Majesty?”

Theodora didn’t rise to the bait. Instead, she regarded him almost as kindly as if he were a human.

“Yes, that’ll do,” she said. “I’ll alter our course immediately.”

Antony had thought he would feel better when his ship was finally moving towards Titus. Instead, he felt more frightened than ever. What if he wasn’t anywhere near the place anymore? It had been long enough, he could be leagues away from the place Antony was sending them.

What if he was making Theodora turn in exactly the wrong direction? What if they would have found him if they’d continued on this course for even one day more?

What if it was already too late?

HANYU’S POV

Hanyu was ashamed of himself.

Of course Lord Antony missed his brother and sister and worried about them. Of course he loved them the way Hanyu loved Asao and Kenta and Gen. But here Hanyu stood, thinking how exciting it all was and wondering whether this was the beginning of the sort of adventure there were songs about. He must be truly heartless.

They parted from Lord Theodora, who bade them both goodbye and told Antony that she hoped he didn’t think this had counted as her visit with Hanyu. She really was terribly nice. It was strange to see a god feeling awkward and at a loss for words, but Hanyu hoped his master would let him have that second visit with her soon.

His master, who was stiff and miserable and who he really ought to be focusing on right now.

That was the trouble with hearing heroic songs and stories about someone for so long. You forgot that they were a real person with real feelings, even when they were stalking two steps ahead of you with worry and tension rolling off them like a scent. Hanyu wished he could think of something kind and empathetic to say like Kenta would have done. Instead, he felt both his tongue and his brain growing thicker and more useless by the minute.

By the time Lord Antony heaved his door open and gestured Hanyu impatiently through, he was fairly sure he’d never manage to speak again.

“Stop looking at me like I’m a puppy in the rain,” the god said crossly once they were in the sitting room.

“I’m sorry.” Apparently, Hanyu could still say something.

“It’s going to be fine,” Antony told him. “Theodora will get us there in no time. How did you like her?”

It was a painfully transparent attempt to change the subject, but Hanyu was grateful for it nonetheless.

“You were right, my lord, she seems very nice.” Hanyu smiled weakly at him. “Though I thought my heart would stop when Chujiro started giving her orders!”

“That made me nervous, too,” his master admitted. “And if you tell anyone I said that, I’ll deny it.”

“I won’t,” Hanyu promised. “She does look terribly fearsome. I think it’s her nose.”

Lord Antony snorted. “It got broken when we were children. I suppose I’m used to it.”

“I’m so glad Kenta belongs to her.” Hanyu sighed, contented. “I think he’ll be happy.”

“He’s been very lucky,” his master agreed. There was a sad note in his voice that Hanyu wondered about for a moment, then decided was probably attributable to worry.

Antony was clearly making an effort to keep the conversation going rather than simply ignoring Hanyu. Just as clearly, his mind was abuzz with thoughts and worries and he would have preferred silence. Hanyu knew he wasn’t a very good attendant, and not the most perceptive person, but this at least was something he could give the god.

“Antony,” he said, still careful with the god’s name as if it might explode in his mouth, “may I please get some sleep now?”

His master blinked at him, then brought his hand up over his face with a loud slap that made Hanyu flinch.

“Shit. Of course.” Lord Antony puffed out a ragged sigh from behind his hand. “Of course you can go to sleep. I didn’t mean to keep you awake for so long. I’m sorry, Hanyu.”

“Please don’t be upset!” Hanyu couldn’t do anything right! “I wanted to go abovedeck with you, my lord! I swear I did.”

“Regardless.” The god let his hand fall and looked up at Hanyu, flat and unhappy. “I think sleep would do us both some good.”

Once he’d performed his ablutions in his little closet, Hanyu padded into the bedroom and saw Antony already in his bed, coiled tightly around himself once again. The urge Hanyu felt to wrap himself protectively around the smaller form was almost unbearable, even though he knew that it was silly of him and there was no protection he could possibly offer the powerful being curled up under the covers.

“My lord?” he ventured, heart thudding so loudly he wasn’t sure he’d be able to hear his master’s voice should he speak. “Please may I sleep with you tonight?” A silver eye cracked open and glared up at him, and he rushed forward. “I swear I wouldn’t do anything but sleep! I just… please, Antony?”

The god’s eye closed again. “Not tonight, pet,” he said, his voice so weary that Hanyu couldn’t bring himself to argue. “Sleep well.”

“You, too,” Hanyu whispered, and settled onto his pallet.

He’d used bed as an excuse to stop obliging Antony to talk to him, not because he actually felt all that tired. But as soon as his eyes shut, he slipped into a deep sleep.

Chapter Text

ANTONY’S POV

Almost as soon as he woke, Antony remembered the way he’d exploded in front of Theodora and Hanyu and had to stifle the urge to scream into his pillow like a child. Why did he have to keep embarrassing himself?

The snoring from beside his bed, softer and gentler than usual though it might have been, told him that he’d awakened before his offering. Good. It had been strange to wake yesterday and find Hanyu staring down at him, the longing on his face as naked as the rest of him. Antony supposed that he should have been alarmed to awaken to such a sight, but he hadn’t been. It hadn’t even crossed his mind. Hanyu might have been huge and frequently naked, but he was no danger, even if it hadn’t been for his human weakness.

Antony stepped carefully around the boy, wincing at the slick string of drool that slid down his cheek. Humans really were disgusting sometimes.

He washed and quickly braided his hair, wondering as he did whether he’d be able to find an excuse to arrange Hanyu’s again when he woke. Perhaps they could work on his painting some more.

For the time being, he needed to write to Claudia. He picked his way around Hanyu’s sleeping form, catching himself right before he stepped on one of the boy’s outflung hands.

Shit! He found his head buzzing unpleasantly. He had to steady himself against the wall for a moment, chanting profanities in his head as his mind played over what had nearly happened.

There would have been a soft crunch under his boot- thanks to Marcus he was intimately familiar with the sound (and feeling) of breaking hand bones, so it was easy to imagine. Next would have come Hanyu’s response, and that was less predictable. Would his eyes have flown open, wide and wild with confused agony, and then the cries begun? Or would his anguished scream have started before he was even fully awake, his eyes still closed as his voice lifted in protest against the pain that had shattered his peace?

Every one of these thoughts twisted Antony’s stomach until he felt sick.

How long did a body cling to the memory of all the things it could no longer do? Antony could not vomit and his heart could not pound and he could not hyperventilate (at least, not without a good deal of effort), but the idea of breaking Hanyu’s fingers made him feel like doing all three.

Further proof, he supposed, that despite his immortality this damn brat was going to be the death of him.

He passed Hanyu with exaggerated care. Once he was seated safely at his desk he yanked the drawer open with more force than was strictly necessary, but gentled his movements as he withdrew the box and the papers. If he damaged the enchanted documents, no one would be able to repair them. He himself certainly no longer possessed the necessary magical skills.

That was another thing his body sometimes had trouble remembering, even after all these years.

Dear Claudia, he began, then hesitated.

Maybe it was the aftereffects of his near miss, but he found that his head was full of news of Hanyu. He wanted to tell his sister about the boy’s conversation, about fixing his hair, about how he looked sleek and gorgeous as a panther in his fine painting silks until he opened his mouth, about his panic over using Antony’s name and the sweet, hesitant way it sounded in the boy’s mouth, about the way they had cringed together when Chujiro insulted Theodora.

That was stupid. Claudia didn’t want to read a full page about Antony’s offering of only two weeks.

His next impulse was to write about Marcus, but he didn’t want to think about his lover right now, in the safety of his own room with Hanyu snoring in the bedchamber, let alone write about him.

I’ve given Theodora the coordinates you sent me.

That was the most important information to pass along, after all.

She says we will be there soon. Whether we’ll find anything is another matter, but of course you know that. I wish I’d taken more prisoners in our raid, in case we do track the idiot down and he’s running low on humans as well as elves. I suppose if worst comes to worst, we can escort his ship to the mainland and help them run a raid of their own on one of the desert tribes. Still, I’d rather not. You know how I hate to take noncombatants. Much to Marcus’ disgust, of course.

Antony stared down at his barely-touched vellum for a long time before sighing gustily and giving up.

Lately, I’ve been spending much of my free time painting my offering, Hanyu…

HANYU’S POV

After Hanyu finished his breakfast, Lord Antony sat him down for another painting session. Hanyu minded these a lot less now that he and Antony talked all through them, and it was easy to stay perched on the edge of the sofa, leaning towards the god’s seat.

“You said you enjoyed singing and reading, didn’t you?” Antony asked as he took up his brush and squinted down at his canvas.

“And recitation, yes.” Hanyu was flattered that his master had remembered.

“I was surprised about the singing,” Lord Antony said, and Hanyu flushed, feeling embarrassment tighten his stomach.

“Sorry, my lord,” he mumbled.

“Oh, come now, it’s not a tragedy. I’m not going to throw you out because you aren’t musical.”

“I know,” Hanyu sighed. “But it’s so nice to listen to music! I enjoyed your playing very much, and I wish I could return the favor.”

“Well, then, you can sing and recite for me. I wouldn’t order Iovita to navigate and then get pissy when they ran us off course.”

“But you love music, Antony!” Hanyu hated how whiny his voice sounded. The god, on the other hand, seemed to find it amusing as he let out a surprised snort of laughter.

“I do, you’re right,” he said, smiling as if he couldn’t help it. “So if you’re going to pout about it, I’ll have you sing for me later.”

Hanyu didn’t like to admit it, but that did make him feel better.

“I’m really not a bad singer!” he rushed to assure Antony. “It’s just my fingers that are clumsy.”

Shit, that was the wrong way to say it. What if the god assumed he was a bad masseuse, or worse- a bad lover?

“I’m sure,” Lord Antony said placatingly. “What kind of songs do you like?”

Hanyu laughed at that. “Bad news, my lord. My favorites are… what did you call them? ‘Soppy love ballads’ ?”

The god groaned theatrically, which made Hanyu laugh harder and break his pose. Antony scowled at him until he stopped laughing, ducked his head with an embarrassed grin, and settled back in place.

“Really?” Lord Antony complained as he set back to work. “What makes those songs enjoyable?”

“They’re beautiful!” Hanyu said. “And so romantic! I like the ones where they fall in love at first sight, like they’re so right for each other that their souls speak to each other the first time they meet one another’s eyes.”

“That’s stupid. You can’t fall in love just from looking at somebody.”

“No, you can’t. You also can’t cleave an enemy in half with a single blow like they’re always doing in the battle songs, but I don’t see you complaining about that.” The god’s eyes flicked up to meet his, and Hanyu was suddenly nervous that his bantering had gone too far and verged into disrespect. He tacked on a hasty “My lord.”

“I can,” Lord Antony said. At Hanyu’s nervous, confused look, he clarified, “I can cleave with a single blow and all that.”

“Oh.” Hanyu might have felt foolish if it hadn’t been for his rush of relief that his master wasn’t angry. “Right, of course you can. That makes sense.”

“What I can’t do is see somebody’s soul at a glance or any of that rubbish.”

“I don’t think you’re supposed to take it so literally,” Hanyu replied. He still felt a little shy, but if the god hadn’t found him disrespectful yet, he would probably be able to get away with more arguing. “The songs exaggerate the way it feels when you meet somebody and connect easily. They exaggerate everything… I suppose that’s why I like them, really.”

Hanyu fell silent. He didn’t want to go on too long and annoy Lord Antony. After a moment of quiet, though, his master looked up at him again and said, “Yes? Can you explain?”

He could. “Well, maybe it’s just because I’ve never been particularly important, but I enjoy thinking about somebody loving me so dearly that they do deeds or make journeys or fight battles for me, or pine away into stones because they can’t have me. I know it’s all exaggerated and a little silly, but don’t you think it’s romantic, my lord?”

“Not particularly,” Antony said, keeping his eyes fixed on the canvas.

“I also like to think of being the lover,” Hanyu went on. “To feel so deeply for someone that I would die without them.”

“That isn’t how it works,” the god said. His voice was low and tight, and Hanyu felt that it was time to stop pursuing this particular line of conversation.

“Maybe not for gods,” he said with a dismissive shrug. Then he had to admit, “Maybe not for humans either. I guess I wouldn’t know. I’ve never been in love before. Have you, Antony?”

“Yes.” Antony wasn’t painting at all anymore, only staring hard at his canvas.

“With Lord Marcus?”

“And others, a long time ago.” The god’s voice did not invite further questions.

Shit, now Hanyu had done it. So much for his efforts to change the subject. He’d dredged up unpleasant memories again. How had a god managed to have so many experiences that made him miserable to remember? Couldn’t he protect himself from everything that might hurt him? Hanyu had things he didn’t like to recall- fights with friends when he’d spoken cruelly, unkind things that had been said to him, punishments he’d received, times he’d taken a joke too far and truly hurt somebody’s feelings- but nothing that would make him look so flat and desolate. He cast about desperately for something to say.

“Sometimes I used to wonder if I was in love with Asao,” he blurted at last. It wasn’t a closely guarded secret, but he still blushed to be talking about his silly, confusing emotions with a god, especially one who looked so somber and ancient as Lord Antony did just then. “I love to be with him and sometimes get worried and jealous if I think he’s going to want someone else for his best friend, and he’s certainly very beautiful. But I don’t think that was ever quite it.”

It worked. Antony looked up, engaged in their conversation again rather than whatever memories he’d fallen into.

“It can be an awfully thin line between friends and lovers,” he said. “And sometimes no line at all.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, we’re rather casual about sex among ourselves,” Antony explained. “The… gods, I mean. There are established relationships, like myself and Marcus, or Messalina and Iovita, or Julia, Thaddeus, and Cloelia. But even for us there’s a lot of sex with friends that just stays as that- sex with friends. I think I’ve been with every god on this ship at least once or twice. Hell, even Theodora tried me out once on a whim, and the only use she has for a man's cock is as something to grab and twist during a brawl.”

Hanyu winced and drew his knees together.

“So, you and Asao,” the god said. “Have you ever been together that way? Sexually, I mean?”

“Of course not!” Hanyu snapped. How could Lord Antony just sit there and so casually accuse him of that? Didn’t he think that Hanyu was capable of behaving at all? Humiliated tears flooded his eyes.

“For goodness’ sake, boy, there’s no need to take my head off over it,” the god said sharply, throwing a quick glare over the edge of his canvas.

Shit. Shit. Shit! He’d snapped at his master. That wasn’t acceptable, no matter how his feelings were stung. Hanyu slipped from the sofa and bowed, repentant. He wished he was allowed to request punishment as he’d been taught.

“Please forgive my disrespectful tone, my lord,” he said, hating how high and teary his voice came out.

“Dammit,” the god sighed. There was a rustling, then some footsteps. Hanyu sensed Lord Antony settling in front of him. “Is this painting cursed, boy? Are you going to end up bowing and crying every time we work on it?”

“S-Sorry,” Hanyu managed.

“You don’t have to apologize.” The god’s voice softened, losing its edge of annoyance. “Come on, Hanyu, sit up. Let me see you so we can talk about this properly.”

Hanyu obeyed, though he wished he didn’t have to. He felt too ashamed to lift his chin and meet his master’s eyes, but when a chilly finger touched his chin and tilted it gently up, he didn’t have much choice.

“Look,” Lord Antony ordered. “You can see for yourself that I’m not upset.”

He could. The god was kneeling down and looking somberly up at him, but there was no anger on his face, and his lovely silver eyes were soft and concerned. Hanyu felt the knot in his stomach loosen, and his tears slowed.

“I’m not sure what exactly I did to frighten you just now,” Antony said carefully, “and I’d be grateful if you could explain it to me. I snapped at you like I do a dozen times in an hour, and you went pale and started crying. What was different from usual?”

“It wasn’t what you did, my lord,” Hanyu said. He wanted to lean back on his knees so that he wouldn’t tower over Lord Antony, but he couldn’t bear to put any additional distance between them. “It was what I did. I snapped at you.”

“And I’m not sure what I did to cause that, either,” his master said. “But we’ll get to that in a minute. For now, your snapping.”

“I’m so sorry, my lord, I know it’s unaccept-” Hanyu’s frantic tumble of words was cut short as Lord Antony held up a hand.

“I know it’s not exactly protocol,” the god said slowly. “And this isn’t a situation I’ve encountered in some time. It’s been many centuries since an offering spoke angrily to me.”

Hanyu felt himself flush in shame. Centuries… That could be as many as a hundred offerings, maybe, and not one of them with as little self-control as he had.

“But I find that I’m not terribly bothered by it,” Antony continued. “In fact, I would prefer to know if I’ve upset you. So I suppose we’ll add snappishness to the list of things that aren’t permitted in the presence of others, but which you’re allowed in private.”

“Thank you,” Hanyu said automatically.

His mind was whirling over the implications of this permission. Frankly he felt a little scandalized, and he was offended all over again that the god would think he’d continue to be angry and snappish in future. But there was no time to sort out his feelings on the subject, because Antony was still talking.

“But I still don’t see how I angered you in the first place,” he said. “I understand if you have a painful history with Asao, but simply asking whether you’ve ever been intimate seems to me like a fairly innocent question. Is it taboo among humans these days?”

Peering at the god's face, Hanyu hedged a little. “Not as such.”

As he searched the god’s face, which stayed open and confused, Hanyu found himself flushing anew. Why hadn’t it occurred to him that Lord Antony just didn’t know? Why should the god concern himself with the minutiae of his offerings’ lives?

Because he seemed interested in the minutiae of Hanyu’s. Could he have been wrong about Eiji? Did Lord Antony truly not speak with the others the way he did with Hanyu? Selfishly, he couldn’t help being pleased by the idea.

“We are trained for sexual service,” he said finally. “Professionals come to the temple to conduct those lessons. Other than that, sex and romantic relationships are not permitted for us. Such entanglements might complicate our service to the gods.”

Lord Antony’s face pinched.

“Oh,” he said, then, “Really?”

The jokester part of Hanyu’s brain desperately wanted to say, “I have better things to do with my time than make up lies to tell you,” but he quashed the impulse.

“Yes,” he said instead. “Didn’t you order that?”

“I never did,” Antony said. “I’ll have to ask my siblings…”

Hanyu watched nervously as the god’s face cycled through several expressions, finally settling on one that looked surprisingly downcast. He hadn’t meant to displease him with the information.

“That seems very sad,” his master said at last. “I’m sorry I insulted you by thinking you might have had relationships, but… I wish you hadn’t grown up that way. I’d like to abolish that rule going forward.”

“I didn’t mind!” Hanyu assured him.

It was true, he hadn’t. There had never been anyone he wanted for more than a week or so, and though he’d liked his lessons in intimate service, he’d been content with his hands for release. He knew other boys had chafed at the restrictions, and there had been plenty of secret pairing off, but he’d always seen the sense of the rule. If he and Asao or Gen had been lovers, how miserable would they be now?

“Still.” The god rubbed his forehead for a moment, then looked back up at Hanyu. “I wish you’d had a chance to fall in love.”

I could fall in love with you. The words popped into Hanyu’s mind unbidden, but with such perfect clarity that he knew they’d been lurking on the edge of his conscious thought for a few days, at least.

It would be an insane thing to say to a god, even to one who didn’t refuse all humans. Hell, it would be an insane thing to say to anyone he’d known for two weeks. But there it was.

It wasn’t just that he liked the prestige of belonging to the lord of the gods, though of course that was part of it. He liked being near Antony. He liked that his master permitted their bantering with each other, and he even liked the way the god fussed and grumbled harmlessly at him. He liked the way Antony looked after him and tried to remember his need for food and sleep as if he owed Hanyu something. Shamefully, he liked the liberties that Antony permitted him and the fact that he apologized to him sometimes, and he liked the way those things broke down the barriers between them. He liked falling asleep knowing that Antony was nearby. He liked the way Antony looked very much, and the way it felt when he touched him and complimented him. He liked the way Antony made him feel special and chosen and beautiful.

He knew that all those things didn’t add up to love. But maybe in time, they could.

And that was all right. It was perfectly natural and acceptable for an offering to fall in love with their god.

As long as they never expected the god to love them back.

Chapter Text

HANYU’S POV

Hanyu was barely resettled in his painting pose when there was a knock at the door.

“Ah.” Lord Antony set down his brush. “Time for you to head up and get some sunshine.”

“I could stay,” Hanyu offered. Honestly, he thought some time abovedeck with the others sounded wonderful, but it felt wrong to interrupt the god’s painting.

“Nonsense,” Antony huffed. “You missed the last one. Go ahead and get changed, I’ll tell the attendant to wait for you.”

When Hanyu emerged from his little closet and crossed to the doorway, he found a supremely uncomfortable Bunta casting nervous little glances at Antony, who was holding forth.

“It just doesn’t seem healthy,” the god was saying. “Don’t you think?”

Bunta looked miserable. “I would not question the wisdom of the gods, my lord.”

“But that’s what I’m saying!” Antony waved a hand and Bunta flinched back, cowering visibly. “I never ordered it! I’m going to ask Claudia and Titus, but it doesn’t seem like something they would do either.”

“I’m ready,” Hanyu piped up, and Bunta turned to him with grateful eyes.

“I’ll see you later, Hanyu.” Antony turned, then hesitated and looked back at Bunta. “Don’t leave his side, all right?”

“Of course, my lord.” Bunta bowed low, and Hanyu stepped through the door to join him.

Once they were several yards down the corridor, Bunta exhaled hard.

“He wants me to ask Lord Julia if it’s unhealthy to keep the boys in the temple from sex and relationships,” he moaned.

“Will she be angry?” Hanyu asked. He would hate to see Bunta torn between obeying the lord of the gods and his own master.

“Oh, goodness no,” Bunta said. “But I’m still confused. Where did this come from?”

“We were talking this morning and I guess he hadn’t known about the restriction.” Hanyu shrugged. “It seems to be bothering him a lot.”

Bunta sighed. “Even if it was unhealthy, I don’t think changing the rules would be better. It would just mean heartbreak and a harder adjustment after they were claimed.”

Hanyu was inclined to agree, but it felt disloyal to do so. He changed the subject, and they talked of lighter things until they finally arrived at the meeting point.

Everyone else was already there, and they were crowded around Kenta. Hanyu jogged over to see what the fuss was about.

“Hanyu!” Gen greeted, waving him over. “Kenta was just telling us about the woman raider that Lord Theodora has!”

Hanyu’s interest was piqued. “Really? What’s she like?”

“She was terrifying at first!” Kenta was probably starting over, but he didn’t betray any impatience. “I’m sure she was scared to death herself, but I couldn’t help being frightened by her. She just huddled down in a corner and glowered at all of us, and if anybody got close she struck out. Whenever any of us tried to talk to her she would just scream at us or turn her face to the wall and ignore us, even Lord Theodora!”

“Wasn’t Lord Theodora angry?” Gen asked.

Kenta shook his head. “Not until two days ago. I was bringing the raider her supper when the ship rolled a little more than I’m used to, and I stumbled and dropped the tray. The plate broke, and quick as anything she grabbed up the biggest shard, got her arm around me, and pressed it up to my throat!”

Hanyu gasped, as did the others despite the fact that they were probably hearing this for the second time.

“Hisao ran to get Lord Theodora, and she came storming in with her face like a thundercloud.” Kenta shivered at the memory. “That was scarier than being taken hostage, honestly.”

Hanyu thought of the god’s fearsome features and tried to picture her enraged. He couldn’t fault Kenta’s assessment.

“She shouted at Gyuri in Surgish, and Gyuri shouted back, and then faster than I could even see, she darted over to us, grabbed Gyuri’s wrist, and twisted it until she dropped the shard. Then Lord Theodora pulled me away from Gyuri and fussed over me for a while, looking me over for wounds and things. She just turned her back to Gyuri like she wasn’t any kind of threat!”

Judging from what Hanyu had seen Antony do, Gyuri wasn’t a threat to one of the gods at all. He felt a pang of sympathy for the woman… she may have been a barely civilized Surgish brute, but she must have been terrified after trying and failing to take a hostage. In her place, he’d have been wondering-

“What did Lord Theodora do to her?” Gen blurted. They must have moved past what the others had already heard.

“Nothing,” Kenta said. “Once she’d looked me over, she examined her wrist and sent Hisao to get Lord Julia. Gyuri sat down and didn’t fight when Lord Julia came to bandage her up. After that, she stopped striking and screaming at us. In fact, she spends all her time with me and Chujiro now, and this morning she came over and apologized to me. Lord Theodora must have taught her the Tacian words.” He smiled. “Honestly, I like her.”

“Really?” Hanyu couldn’t imagine liking anyone who’d threatened to kill him, let alone a Surgish barbarian.

There were at least half a dozen savage tribes or nations that lived in the desert and occasionally attacked Tacia, trying for a piece of their divinely defended fertile coastal land, but the Surgish were the most powerful and determined. When Hanyu was a child in the temple nurseries, the attendants had told them that if they weren’t good, the gods wouldn’t take them and then the Surgish would catch them. When his cadre was older, they had had play wars that lasted the whole day, and he’d been one of the few boys who liked to be a Surgish warrior because he got to scream and flail his arms as much as he wanted. Now, here was Kenta, who had always cried that the war games were too scary, saying that he liked a real live Surgish raider.

Well, maybe the women were different from the men.

“Hanyu!” He was yanked from his thoughts by Asao’s voice.

When he turned to look at his friend, he cringed. Asao looked even worse than he had before. His pallor had increased, he was moving with painful slowness, his eyes were sunken and bloodshot, and his lips were cracked.

“Are you all right?” Hanyu blurted.

Stupid stupid stupid. Why had he said that? He could clearly see that Asao was not all right. What had happened to him? Was he sick? Surely it wasn’t…

“I was actually going to ask after Lord Antony,” Asao mumbled, glancing down. “I know my master was… rough with him.”

Ah, yes, the other night’s altercation.

“He’s fine, of course,” Hanyu assured him. “He looked terrible when he first got back, but it’s healed so quickly. He’s amazing! Well, all the gods are amazing, I suppose.”

Asao nodded eagerly, which soothed Hanyu’s fears a bit.

“What about Lord Marcus?” he asked. “Was he in rough shape as well?”

“Oh, no,” Asao said dismissively. “Not a mark on him when he said I could come back.”

“Come back?”

“Lord Antony sent me to the kitchens before they… started.” Asao gave him a strained smile. “How have things been with Lord Antony, by the way?”

“Wonderful!” Hanyu burbled, feeling the grin stretch his cheeks uncontrollably. “He painted a portrait of me and it was so lovely! But he said it didn’t do me justice, so he’s doing another. And he talks with me while he paints, and asks me all kinds of things and sometimes-”

“Has he allowed you into his bed yet?” Asao interrupted.

Hanyu’s brain stopped for a moment in his surprise. It wasn’t like Asao to cut him off, or to look so pinched and pissed. Hell, his friend had practically spat the question at him.

“N-No,” Hanyu managed after too long. “He hasn’t.”

Strangest of all was the triumphant little smirk Asao threw at him and the way his best friend turned and walked away, leaving Hanyu standing alone in the crowd of their cadre.

ANTONY’S POV

Antony found himself distracted and pacing once Hanyu left. His irrational feeling that the boy was in some kind of danger without him hadn’t let up, and he hated to have him out of his sight.

Finally, he forced himself into the seat of his desk and dashed off a quick note to Claudia, asking about the ban on sex and relationships for their offerings. He wondered whether he should even bother asking Titus... why should he respond to this message when he hadn’t to any other? Finally, though, he pulled out Titus’ vellum.

Titus,

My newest offering has told me that they are not permitted sexual or romantic intimacy while they live at the temple. Did you order this? It seems unhealthy to me, though Julia will be advising me on that point.

He should stop there. He knew he should. But still…

Please write back. We are sailing towards your last known coordinates, and we will be searching for you until either we find you or we are forced to go ashore and resupply. If any elven ships get past Claudia and neither of us is there to catch them, it’ll be your own damn fault. Please write back.

Your brother,

Antony

After putting his box away, Antony was back to his fruitless fretting. What was wrong with him?

Hanyu tumbled back through the door after what seemed like ten hours rather than four. Antony was so grateful for the distraction from his own useless thoughts and so relieved to see his offering safely returned that he had to suppress a brief, ridiculous urge to hug him.

“It’s so beautiful today!” the boy enthused, flopping down onto the sofa and grinning shyly at him- probably waiting to see if he’d be scolded for not bowing.

Antony had been telling the truth when he said he couldn’t care less about the bowing. He flopped down on the other side of the sofa, savoring the sweet relaxation that his relief afforded him.

“How are the others?” he asked, sure that this would save him from speaking for a few minutes.

It did. Hanyu told him an astonishing story about Theodora’s new woman. Well, he’d warned her that the creature might be a danger to her other pets, and she clearly had the situation well in hand. Antony wouldn’t dare to tell her ‘I told you so,’ nor would he worry too much on her behalf.

Hanyu’s supper arrived, and he kept talking between bites. Antony watched his throat move with his swallows and supposed he’d need to drink from the boy again soon, either today or tomorrow.

Tomorrow. He was enjoying himself too much. Dammit, when had this constant stream of chatter become entertaining?

“And Gen says that he’s almost sure Lord Iovita will be requesting him once he’s allowed to leave the servants’ quarters for sex!” Hanyu went on. “He says they always drink from him when they go down to feed, and they sit and talk with him afterwards! He hopes they’ll accept his service once the new group of offerings arrives.”

“It’s only been two weeks,” Antony couldn’t help pointing out. ”You’re the new group of offerings.”

Hanyu laughed. “Only two weeks! I feel like I’ve been here much longer.”

Oh no. Was he suffering? Was he unhappy? Perhaps he was homesick. Fuck, what was Antony supposed to do about it if he was homesick? Maybe he just wanted more time out of Antony’s quarters? Maybe he didn’t like being painted? Maybe-

“I’m so comfortable with you, it seems like we’ve known each other for months,” the boy continued merrily. “If that’s not disrespectful to say, my lord. It probably is, isn’t it?”

Once again, Antony was engulfed in a tidal wave of relief.

“I wouldn’t know,” he managed. “I suppose Asao could tell us.”

Hanyu’s face fell at the mention of Asao. It was such a stark contrast to his usual reaction that Antony felt his stomach twist in alarm again. Was the boy still angry that he’d thought he and Asao might have a history together?

“Antony…” Hanyu spoke falteringly, and Antony fixed his attention on the boy’s words. “Asao doesn’t… I don’t think he’s well.”

“Really?” Of course the poor creature had been having a bad time, but Antony still hoped that the last few days had been easier on him since Marcus had had a chance to purge his sadism a bit.

“I’m worried that Lord Marcus might be using him a little too roughly,” Hanyu said hesitantly. “I know Asao belongs to him, and I don’t want to overstep, but… well, he was so rough with you!”

“He knows I can take it,” Antony assured him. “He wouldn’t subject Asao to the things he did to me.”

Hanyu glanced over at him, smiling a little. “Asao… he said you sent him away before you and Lord Marcus went to bed. That was kind of you.”

To Antony’s horror, he found himself lost for words, and he sputtered for a moment before managing to say, “I wasn’t being kind, I simply don’t enjoy being watched!”

“Of course, my lord.” Hanyu bent his head demurely, but Antony suspected that his offering was laughing at him.

It was far too late for any kind of thundering display like he’d planned after the first time Hanyu had laughed at him.

He was saved by a loud toll from the bells announcing that the sun had set. Antony jolted to his feet.

“I’m going abovedeck,” he growled. “Don’t wait up for me.”

Once he was in the hallway he shook off thoughts of his offering, who was ensconced safely in his rooms and needed no further attention. He had a mission for the night.

He needed to see Marcus. He knew from years of experience that if he put it off too long, he would just let the nerves and resentment build until he didn’t even want to share an ocean with his lover, let alone a ship or a bed, and that was no good. Best to get it over with. Still, he felt it would be best to see him abovedeck, not in either of their rooms where Asao and Hanyu would be likely to get involved.

Involved in what? He was being paranoid. Marcus was his lover, and yes he had a temper but Antony had given him what he wanted. There would be no problems.

Still. Better to keep the humans clear.

Just in case.

Chapter Text

ANTONY’S POV

The night was even cloudier than the one before, and now that he was on the upper deck Antony could feel the rough bite of wind and see the torchlight reflecting off little choppy waves.

“Looks like a storm soon,” observed a voice at Antony’s elbow.

He whirled, feeling tightness shoot from his belly and up his throat, but it was only Felix. The big man smiled at him, not seeming to notice his nerves.

“I’m glad I caught you,” Felix continued. “I heard a rumor that Theodora’s woman pulled a knife on her. Do you know if there’s any truth to it?”

“Not a knife,” Antony replied. “Theodora wouldn’t let her get hold of an actual weapon. It was a shard of glass, and she threatened one of the boys, not Theo herself.”

“Oooo, that might have been a worse idea,” Felix said, punctuating his words with a low whistle. “Theo must have been furious!”

“I haven’t talked with her about it yet, but I imagine she was.” Antony hadn’t blamed Hanyu for the theatrical little shudder he’d given when recounting Theodora’s anger.

“Did…” Felix hesitated. “Is the woman… all right?”

“Of course.” Antony rolled his eyes. “Theodora would never hurt a human that belonged to her. She even had Julia in to treat the wretched thing.”

Felix nodded, but he still looked uneasy.

Antony remembered what his former offering had told him, and that strange combination of guilt and obligation drove him to ask, “I hear you’ve accepted Eiji’s service?”

“Yes,” Felix said, looking at him warily.

“That’s good.” When had Antony gotten so damned awkward? “He’s a good boy, he’ll serve you well.”

“He does.” Felix still watched him closely. “But he’s hardly a boy anymore.”

“Right, of course.” Even after all these centuries, Antony never stopped being startled at how quickly the human life cycle went from one stage to another. “Well. I’m glad he’s taken care of.”

Felix regarded him curiously. “I’ll tell him you asked after him.”

“Right.” Antony wished he wouldn’t. “It’s been some time since you took a human, hasn’t it?”

“Not really.” Felix shrugged. “Sixty years or so.”

“Ten cycles,” Antony countered. “Why is that?”

Felix gave a short, uncomfortable laugh. “It took me some time to recover after Hiroya. You know how that is.”

That wasn’t an issue Antony felt like revisiting when he was tense about Marcus. In fact, that wasn’t an issue he felt like revisiting, ever. He gave a jerky nod and turned away.

“Right, of course. Well, it was good seeing you, Felix, but I-”

“Wait!” The other vampire’s voice was frantic, and Antony turned back to him, startled.

Felix looked miserable. His arms were wrapped tightly across his chest, his hands tucked up under his armpits. Once he saw Antony turn back, he dropped his desperate eyes to his feet. His shoulders sagged.

Antony didn’t often see Marcus’ composed second in such an attitude of wretched defeat, but he had seen it before, and he knew what it meant.

“Oh,” he said, gentling his voice. “All right. Of course. I can take you right now, if you like, so you don’t have to think about it all night.”

“Sure,” Felix said unhappily. “Might as well get it over with. Thank you, Antony.”

Antony led the other vampire back down into the bowels of the ship. They turned through a dozen corridors, past the vampire’s living quarters, the kitchens, the laundry, the offerings’ quarters, and some rooms that Antony didn’t even know the purpose of. Finally, they arrived at the very deepest part of the ship.

It was a door. It wasn’t especially thick, unlike its equivalents on his siblings’ ships. The reason for this seeming laxness sat in the center of the door: a small keyhole.

Antony pulled the key from the chain around his neck, and even though it had been so many centuries since he’d been able to feel the faint sizzle and bite of magic, he still felt a flash of disappointment at the senselessness of his fingers on the metal.

He had woven the spells on this lock and key, and on the key’s twin that Julia kept close. He could still remember the strain, the concentration, the dozens of failed attempts and the exhilaration of finally getting it right. Now, though the magic still worked, he might as well have been a human for all he sensed as he slid the key home and turned it in the lock.

He often thought that it would have been easier to lose a limb. But then, magic was hardly the only thing this damn curse had taken from him, or the worst.

The smell that wafted out when he opened the door was still so hard to identify, even though he came here all the time. The prisoners were kept clean and their chamber pots were removed at least once a day, but still the musk of their breath and something else- did despair have a smell?- rendered the air noxious and stale.

The four prisoners lay on cots, still as death. That was the one dubious kindness Antony was able to offer them: drugs, which Julia concocted from a spiny desert herb the Tacians gave as part of their tribute, and which rendered the prisoners insensible most of the time.

Before they’d had the drug, the prisoners had all gone mad. Every single one, sooner or later. This way was far preferable for everyone involved.

They were elves, three women and one man. One of them, a woman who had seemed to be barely fifty years old when they’d captured her, looked a little like Antony’s sister Claudia. He found himself wondering sometimes whether they were related. Hell, any of the elves might have been distant relatives of anyone on this ship.

It was to that youthful woman that Antony now pointed. Felix, who hadn’t made the slightest sound or movement since following him in, looked as wretched as he always did when it was time to feed. He nodded jerkily.

“You’ve already fed today?” Antony asked, and he nodded again. “Go ahead, then.”

Felix stooped over the woman and picked up her limp arm. Her head lolled in his direction and she stared at him, blank and unblinking. Felix shuddered and closed his eyes before sinking his fangs carefully through her skin.

Felix was one of the most obvious in his hatred for this ritual, but almost none of them were unaffected. Marcus didn't seem terribly bothered, but Theodora would barely speak after her turns, Julia snapped at everyone for days, and even Messalina's jokes and bravado as she drank were unmistakably brittle. These weren’t mayfly humans, these were elves, just like they had once been. Even after a thousand years of feeding once a year apiece, most of the vampires still looked solemn and unhappy as they began to feed.

That unhappiness always vanished as soon as the elven blood hit their mouths. Felix was no exception. His face slackened with pure, stupid, animal need and he began swallowing frantically.

This was why they took precautions- drinking from the arm rather than the throat, and never being permitted to drink alone. Antony moved to Felix’s side and put a hand on his shoulder.

“That’s enough,” he said. An instant passed with no response, then Antony sighed and reached down, gently pulling the elf woman’s arm from the vampire’s grasp. “I said, that’s enough!”

Felix’s head jerked up as he lost his grip on the arm. His eyes were wild and wanting, his teeth bared in defiance, and a growl had started low in his throat. For a second, Antony thought that the lieutenant would fight him.

But Felix had better control of himself than that. His yearly visits were never terribly dramatic. Now, he gave several quick blinks and slumped against Antony’s hands.

“Right,” he said, his voice rough and slurring. “Thank you, Your Highness.”

Your Highness. It was like hearing a name from a previous life. How far into their past had Felix reverted in his moment of bewilderment? Antony felt chills racing under his skin as he stared helplessly down at the other vampire, both of them unmoored in time.

It took another moment for them to recover, then Antony pulled Felix to his feet and led him out of the room, locking it carefully behind them. He still felt a little off balance and unnerved, but he didn’t want to hang around that place any longer. Judging by the way Felix’s shoulders uncurled as they walked away, he agreed.

“Are you all right?” Antony asked after they’d been walking for a few minutes.

“Yes,” Felix said heavily. “Thank you, Antony. I just… I wish we didn’t have to keep them like that. At least the humans get to walk around and talk to each other.”

Antony sighed. “You’re not wrong. It’s an awful sight. But their magic is too unpredictable to let them wander freely. If one was to talk with the offerings and then escape-”

“I know.” Felix’s voice was bitter. “It just feels so terrible. It’s evil.”

“We didn’t set the terms of the curse,” Antony spat.

He was surprised at the wave of hate and resentment that crested in him- he’d thought he was past all the theatrics and overwhelming emotions, but apparently not. Apparently there were some betrayals, some acts of cruelty, that not even a thousand years could smooth over.

He didn’t have a chance to say more, because a voice boomed out from the corridor ahead of them. “There’s my two favorite boys!”

He’d found Marcus after all.

Chapter Text

HANYU’S POV

Hanyu was dreadfully bored.

He’d done all the cleaning he could think of, but in the end Lord Antony’s quarters consisted of one moderately-sized room, two small ones, and some assorted closets. They were hardly chambers befitting a lord of the gods, though he supposed that even a ship as large as this one did not allow for palatial quarters. The trouble was that, given the lack of space and objects, there wasn’t nearly enough for him to do.

He’d been told not to wait up, but he wasn’t tired. He wished Lord Antony would come back so he had someone to talk to. He wondered about going out to speak with the rest of his cadre, but that was against his master’s rules, and (to his shame, rather more convincingly) he didn’t know where the offerings were being kept, so he was likely to wander around fruitlessly and eventually get caught.

He drifted into the god’s bedchamber. After all, he was allowed to sleep here, so surely he was allowed to have a look around? He hadn’t properly explored in all his time here.

He looked at Antony’s immaculately made bed. The god did it himself every evening. Hanyu was glad of this since he didn’t think he’d be able to draw the sheets so tightly, eliminating even the smallest wrinkle.

Antony’s musical instruments were secured in small leather slings tacked to the underside of the bed. Hanyu wished he could see to discern whether there was anything else under the bed, but the torchlight offered no such view, casting the area into blackness.

Hanyu crouched beside Antony’s bookshelf and surveyed the neat rows of spines, which were secured behind thick leather straps. Some were titled in his own language, some in a looping, elegant alphabet he didn’t recognize. He wondered whether he would be allowed to read aloud to the god from some of the familiar volumes. He’d always been praised for his expressive reading. It would make him feel a little better after the abject failure that had been his musical performance.

Antony’s closet was much more promising. The god didn’t have as many clothes as Hanyu would have expected, but there were two large chests bolted to the closet floor. Hanyu knelt in front of the first and tried the lid. It wasn’t locked, opening with only the slightest creak of old wood.

This was beginning to feel less like exploring and more like snooping, but the lure of the shadowy contents was too powerful for Hanyu to stop now. Who knew what he might be able to learn about his master?

The torchlight didn’t reach the closet floor, so Hanyu went to his own little closet to fetch a taper with a holder and light it. When he returned to the god’s closet, the little candle illuminated the contents of the chest.

At the top of the pile, there was a handful of papers- maps and coordinates, Hanyu realized on closer inspection. They didn’t look anything like the maps he had seen back in the temple. On those maps his homeland had been the only land, surrounded on all sides by a vaguely defined ocean. These maps showed multiple green masses that he could only assume were other islands. The thought set his heart pounding wildly.

He had been so excited to venture over the ocean on the gods’ ship. He’d hoped to see a monster. But what if there were half a dozen other places to visit? Would there be monsters in those places, or people, or both? The gods didn’t take offerings from anywhere else- at least he didn’t think so, and he would have met one by now, wouldn’t he?

Was his homeland the only place with human people, or were they simply the only ones worthy of attending the gods? Pride swelled in him along with his burgeoning curiosity.

If there were people in those places, what would they be like? What would they eat and wear and sing and do? How would they talk? Maybe they were the ones who spoke the strange language on Antony’s books! Maybe the people in those places all lived underground like voles, or in trees like birds! Maybe they didn’t need food and lived from water and earth like plants! Maybe their babies grew from seeds! Maybe they rode giant cats, or giant birds, or flew all by themselves! Maybe they could scale walls like lizards! The possibilities were truly endless, but they all faded into one burning question: Would Lord Antony take him there if he begged hard and behaved himself?

He shouldn’t ask. A good slave didn’t make demands, a good offering even less so. But he’d never been a very good offering, and his master didn’t seem to mind. Even if the question angered him, Hanyu knew he was going to ask, again and again and again. More than he’d ever wanted anything, more even than he craved his god’s touch, he longed to see these unimaginable places. Now that he knew they were there, he would never stop pleading and bargaining until he was allowed to visit every strangely shaped mass on these maps.

Hanyu set the papers reverently aside and dug eagerly to see what other wonders Antony’s trunk contained.

There were more papers, some covered in that same looping alphabet -Was it just one, or were there multiple alphabets and Hanyu simply hadn’t seen enough of them to tell them apart?- and then a pile of very old books tightly bound in a waterproof oilskin. These were written in Hanyu’s own language, and as he paged carefully through them he was surprised to see that they were full of diagrams of bodies. Bones and muscles were sketched out in such detail that Hanyu found himself glancing down at his own body, wondering if it could really have such strange things inside it. All of the books seemed to be medical texts, and though Hanyu had flipped through such volumes back in the temple, they had never much intrigued him. He certainly couldn’t focus on them when his mind was still alight with thoughts of unimaginable countries to visit. He rewrapped them carefully, then replaced everything in the chest exactly as he’d found it.

His desire not to be caught made it clear to him that this was, indeed, snooping. He wouldn’t worry about Lord Antony finding out what he’d done if it wasn’t something to be ashamed of. Still, he couldn’t resist lifting his candle again and reaching for the other chest.

This one was also unlocked, though the inside held a large metal box that Hanyu had to strain with both hands to open. It was lined inside with oilskin. Clearly, this box was meant to protect its contents even at the bottom of the sea.

At the top of the box he found a little satchel that spilled two rings into his palm. One was a plain silver band, but the other was heavy and seemed to be made of gold. When he examined the impressive ring more closely, he saw that it had a flat face engraved with an elaborate sigil. Perhaps it was a signet ring, like the ones the king and high priest used to seal their letters to the temple.

Next came four portraits carefully wrapped in silk. The first was of a woman with the tapered ears of a god, but she looked older than any god Hanyu had ever seen. Her skin was as dark as Antony’s, and her eyes were kind. She was dressed in fine, outlandish clothes and wore jewels at her throat and ears. She was sitting on a low bench in a sun-drenched garden, strange bright flowers tumbling out of a bush behind her. Clearly, this was no night god. Who could she be?

The next portrait was even stranger. It depicted a young human man with soft eyes and a shy smile. His clothes were not as elegant as the woman’s, but he wore jewels in his ears as fine as a king could afford. There was a crown of flowers on his head, and he seemed to be in the same sunny garden.

The third portrait was also of a human, but he looked like he could have come from Hanyu’s own homeland. He was completely unlike either of the others. For one thing, he seemed to have been painted indoors by torchlight. For another, he wore a robe, where the others had been clad in shirts and trousers. This young man’s smile was mischievous, his eyes clever and laughing, and he was leaning back on a fine, old-fashioned chair with his arms crossed jauntily behind his head, showing off lean muscles and a set of feeding scars on his neck. Hanyu’s fingers crept up to brush the matching wounds on his own neck.

Had this boy been an offering like him? Had he belonged to Lord Antony? How many hundreds of years ago had he served the god? Judging by his clothes, if he had truly come from Tacia, it would have been at least five or six hundred- probably more, but Hanyu wasn’t terribly interested in the history of fashion. Taiki might know.

Hanyu felt sure that Antony had painted all three of these portraits. They looked like the ones the god had been painting of him. He felt equally sure that unlike those pictures, these had not been painted to pass the time.

He set them gently aside to open the final carefully wrapped picture, but when he pulled aside the swath of fabric he could see right away that this one was different. Most precisely, it was terrible.

It had no background to speak of, only an undifferentiated coat of pale green paint and a lopsided figure that Hanyu was fairly sure was supposed to be a person. After a few moments of squinting at the dark skin and white stick that he thought might be intended to represent a braid, he concluded that it was supposed to be Antony. There were two gray blobs that were probably eyes and a wavery reddish line that might have been a mouth bracketing what could have been either a nose or a small dark potato. Had this been one of the god’s first efforts at painting- maybe his very first? Or had it been painted by someone else? Hanyu wished he knew, but either way, he found his chest squeezing and his eyes brimming a little to think of his master carefully wrapping and preserving such a monstrosity. It could only have been done out of love or deep nostalgia.

Finally, Hanyu seemed to have reached the end of the portraits. The next thing he extracted was a thick packet of folded papers, probably letters, wrapped in oilskin and bound with leather straps.

Hanyu reached automatically for the straps, then hesitated. He knew that all of this was terribly invasive, but reading Antony’s letters was surely crossing a line. These had been preserved for untold centuries, and whatever was written on them must have been so important to his god that reading them would be as intimate as staring right into his heart. This would be a terrible thing to do without permission.

But a peek into Antony’s heart was exactly what he wanted.

Hanyu hated himself as he undid the straps. He was afraid he would never forget the sight of his fingers unfolding the ancient, fragile paper of the first letter.

The yellowed page was covered in that mysterious looping alphabet.

Hanyu felt almost relieved as he gently smoothed the letter back into its accustomed fold and redid the straps. He wished it had been his own moral fiber that had stopped him instead of an unfamiliar language. His earlier excitement had been tamped down and replaced with self-loathing.

Asao would never do something like this. Perfect Eiji probably hadn’t touched these chests for more than dusting in his whole six years of serving the god. Hanyu was worse than useless, he was an actively terrible offering.

Still, he couldn’t help reaching for the final item in the trunk.

It was stiff against his fingers. What he pulled out was a length of faded red fabric that, when he stood up and unfolded it, seemed to be some kind of robe. It was covered in gold stitchery and had hundreds of jewels embroidered into its elaborate patterns, and it must once have been far grander than anything the Tacian king’s wardrobe could boast. Now, though, it was so old and fragile that it started crumbling in Hanyu’s hands, ancient stitches giving way beneath his fingers and sending little gemstones dropping to the floor in a hard, accusatory patter.

Oh, no! Heart in his throat, Hanyu let the robe fall to the ground in an ill-guided move that sent more beads skipping free over the boards. He dropped to his hands and knees and began crawling desperately after the jewels while his head swam and his stomach clenched. Oh no oh no oh no oh-

His dizzy terror was interrupted and intensified when a furious voice snapped out from the door to the bedchamber.

“Hanyu, what the fuck!”

Lord Antony was back.

Chapter Text

PLEASE NOTE! This chapter was an April Fool's joke. If you want some non-canon silliness, read on! If you want to continue the story uninterrupted, skip to the next chapter.

ANTONY'S POV

“There’s my two favorite boys!”

Marcus’ jocular cry was accompanied by Marcus himself, who galloped up to Antony and Felix and flung an arm over each of their shoulders. Antony couldn’t help stiffening a little at the contact, but he tried to fight down the reaction and relax. It would be no good to antagonize his lover so soon after a quarrel.

“What are you two up to?” Marcus asked gaily. “Do I need to be jealous? Is my second trying to replace me?”

“As war chief or as my lover?” Antony hoped he had the tone of Marcus’ teasing right and the jibe wouldn’t offend. “I would accept either.”

Marcus threw back his head in a great gale of laughter and Antony relaxed further. He’d been right.

“Well, that’ll be time for me to leave, then.” Felix detached himself and swept them both a flourishing bow. “I’m honored, Lord Antony, but I don’t have the energy for either job. I have quite enough to do keeping up with my dear Eiji. I’ll see you both later.”

“Now now, you both need to follow me abovedeck!” Marcus cried. “Annie, you’ll never believe the fish that Cloelia just caught!”

Puzzled, but relieved that his lover didn’t seem inclined to try to get him alone, Antony submitted to being dragged up into the open air and silvery moonlight. To his astonishment, the deck was crammed full of vampires. Were they all assembled here? What was this? A celebration? A mutiny?

“I found him!” Marcus crowed. Antony found Theodora in the crowd and relaxed a little. Not a mutiny, then.

“Over here, Lord Antony!” Cloelia cried, waving her tattoo-sheathed arms from the edge of the deck. Antony glanced uneasily at Theodora, who nodded encouragingly.

He tried to show none of the hesitation he felt as he marched over to his primary fisherwoman.

“Something in your net, Cloelia?” he asked.

She laughed, fangs flashing in the moonlight.

“It wouldn’t fit in any nets of mine! Come see!”

When Antony leaned over the railing, he felt apprehension thrumming all the way down to his toenails. What on earth could all this fuss and evasion be about?

His first thought was simply that there was a portion of the seawater that glittered more fiercely in the moonlight that the rest. However, it only took him a second to realize that the extra sparkle came from the light shining off scales, not waves.

A great sea serpent, the largest he had ever seen, floated next to the ship. It was strangely quiescent. Was it dead? Antony’s gaze traveled the dizzying length of its body, all the way up to its proud head. Before he could get a good look at its face, however, he was distracted by a splash of bright yellow where its head met its neck.

Antony squinted at the incongruous color, then reeled back from the railing as the entire length of the serpent began to move.

He seemed to be alone in his alarm. No voices or footsteps sounded from the crowd behind him as the serpent raised its great head up, up, out of the sea and along the railing until it was looking right in Antony’s eyes.

Would he die if he was devoured by a sea serpent? What if one of its great glinting fangs caught him in the heart? Worse, what if it didn’t? Antony staggered back, terror thrumming through every inch of his body, and prayed that Messalina had her bow ready. Surely someone was armed? Surely the fight was about to start? He bared his fangs and crouched down, readying to spring. If he could just get at one of the fathomless golden eyes-

“This isn’t the welcome I expected.”

The light, musical voice rang out just as Antony lunged forward. What in the world?

A figure dropped from the creature’s neck, landing lightly on the deck in front of him. As the figure straightened gracefully to its full height, Antony stumbled back another step and sat hard.

“Aren’t you happy to see me, big brother?” the figure said, and at the sound of those words- ‘big brother’- her face and voice resolved, slotting easily together in the clean blend of recognition. But… no…

“H-How?” he gasped. “I thought… you can’t… Marisu?”

She stooped and held out a hand to him. He took it automatically, still unable to believe what his senses were telling him. But no, her hand was real… slim and warm and slightly damp from the ocean spray. As she hoisted him up, he stared into her eyes. One as purple as cut amethyst, just like he remembered, but the other had changed. It was now the bright red of blood.

He still couldn’t quite trust any of it, but he let her pull him into a fierce hug.

Her grip was powerful, as powerful as his own, and that was when the reality of the situation crashed down on him.

“You were cursed too.” Of course, it was the only way she could still be alive after all these centuries, but still… “I thought you had been spared!”

She pulled back, and he could see that he’d been mistaken. Her hair wasn’t yellow, it was a pale, delicate blue. Did she dye it?

“I hid it as long as I could,” she replied. “Almost ten years in all. You were all gone within two days, so of course you couldn’t have known.”

“Hid it?” Was Antony ever going to run out of inane-sounding questions? “How in the world did you manage that? No one noticed that you couldn’t go out in the sun for ten years?”

“The curse is different for me.” Marisu’s hair changed, right before his eyes. It flushed a delicate pink, starting at the roots and moving down her shoulders to the tips.

“What the fuck was that?” Marcus had come to stand beside him. Against his will, Antony was grateful that his lover had, however inelegantly, put words to his own confusion.

“That’s one of the ways the curse works differently for me,” Marisu said. “My hair changes colors to reflect my emotions. Back home, I hid it by dying it black.”

“But… sun? Food? Fangs? What about your eyes changing? Surely someone noticed all that!” Antony was sputtering now in his bewilderment.

“The sun doesn’t hurt me, and I can eat ordinary food, not just blood,” Marisu explained. “As for my teeth and eyes, I cast a simple glamour to keep anyone from-”

“You can still use magic?” Pain flared all through Antony’s body. “But… how?”

“There was a prophecy,” Felix put in from his place in the crowd. “It said that no vengeful curse could be cast unaltered on the pure heart of one who was meant to rule.”

Everyone gasped. Marisu looked down, her hair darkening as she scowled at her feet.

“I did rule, for a time. But then my sister learned my secret and betrayed me. She had wanted the man who would have been my consort.”

“That must have been painful,” Antony said, wishing he had better comfort to offer her.

Marisu shrugged. “We were never close. You remember how it was, big brother. She only wanted to think about boys and dresses, and I was always after you to teach me horseback riding and swordfighting. I wasn’t like the other girls.”

“I thought you wanted to learn swordfighting from Claudia-”

“After my secret was revealed,” Marisu interrupted, “I had to flee in disguise. Luckily, I found a mysterious egg and protected it, so when my sweet Drakkon hatched he chose me as his rider, so now we share a psychic soul bond.”

She blew a kiss to the sea serpent where it was still arched over the ship, staring down at them with endless, oily eyes.

“Ever since then, we’ve wandered the world while I honed my magic,” Marisu concluded. “It’s been a wonderful adventure, but we’ve never been able to return to our home.”

That particular grief, of course, Antony could well understand.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “It’s been the same for us. Why didn’t you come to see us sooner?”

“Indeed.” Marcus’ voice had gone low and syrupy, and Antony twitched a cutting glance in his direction. “We could have done with a beauty of your stature to relieve these years of boredom.”

“Well, you won’t have been too bored, Marcus,” Theodora put in with a quelling look at the bigger vampire. “After all, you’ve had Lord Antony as your lover for several centuries now.”

“Really?” Marisu looked a little surprised. “Marcus?”

Antony was doubly stung, first by Marcus’ claim of boredom and now by his sister’s bemusement. Didn’t she think he held enough attractions to entice the beautiful warrior?

“A minor detail, and easily swept aside.” Marcus illustrated his words by pushing past Antony, grabbing Marisu’s hand, and yanking her into his broad chest. “Be mine, lovely Marisu, and I will carry you back to our homeland, sweep aside even the faintest memories of your enemies, and place you on the throne you are so clearly destined to occupy.”

Marisu lifted her hands, pressing them against Marcus’ chest as a bolt of purple lightning shot out from her palms. It was unlike any spell Antony had ever seen before, and it sent his lover staggering back several steps.

“No one else shall have you!” Marcus raged. “Your beauty maddens me! You shall be mine, my dark flower!”

“Drakkon!” Marisu cried and, in a motion so quick that Antony wondered whether this was how Hanyu felt watching him move, the great sea serpent’s head darted down to the deck. Its jaws snapped shut over Marcus, who only had time for a single despairing cry before the mighty teeth closed over him, the great head tossed back, and in a single bulging swallow, he was gone.

Everyone stood frozen in silence for a moment that seemed endless. Antony’s thoughts and emotions roiled wildly inside him. Marcus was gone. Marcus had been his lover. Marcus had spurned him and threatened his sister. Marcus was gone and that had been the whole point, that Marcus was too strong ever to die, ever to leave him, not like-

His reverie was broken when Marisu spoke, her voice low and tremulous. Her hair hung black as pitch around her horrorstruck face.

“Oh… oh shit, Antony, I’m so sorry. He was your lover. I wasn’t thinking, I just-”

Theodora gave a loud cheer. Julia took up the cry, then Thaddeus, then all the vampires were cheering and clapping.

Antony blinked helplessly at his sister as Theodora rushed up and threw her arms around him. She was beaming, her smile stretching so much wider than he’d seen it in- had he ever seen her smile this broadly?

“Antony, this is wonderful!” she cried. “You’re free! You and Asao both, and none of us have to look at him or listen to him ever again- Marisu, how can we even begin to thank you?”

Then they were all surrounded by celebrating vampires. Julia clapped Antony vigorously on his shoulder, and Felix took Marisu’s hand and kissed it.

“I say we do just what Marcus suggested,” Messalina crowed. “We go home and we put Marisu back on the throne where she belongs! She fed Marcus to a dragon, she’s already queen in my eyes!”

“Long live the queen!” cried all the vampires, and one by one they dropped to their knees.

Marisu flushed prettily. Her hair had turned pink as a sakura flower. “Please don’t… everyone stand up. There’s no need for this.”

She looked so lovely and so alone as she stood above all the kneeling vampires. Antony thrust the thought of Marcus’ fate away- he would mull it all over and decide what to feel later- and put an arm around her shoulders.

“You’ll be all right,” he whispered to her. “You were born for this.”

“It’ll be sunrise soon,” Theodora pointed out. “Everyone get belowdecks. We’ll discuss all of this tomorrow night.”

They filed down the steps, and Antony kept his arm tight around Marisu as he led her towards his quarters.

“There’s someone I’m excited to have you meet.” Please don’t feed him to your sea serpent. “His name is-”

Antony stepped through the door, surprised that Hanyu was nowhere to be seen. There was a low, unhappy muttering from the bedroom. Was the boy talking in his sleep again? Was he having a nightmare? Antony would have to wake him. He hurried to the doorway, Marisu on his heels, then froze in shock at the sight that met his eyes.

“Hanyu!”

HANYU’S POV

Hanyu stopped his frantic scrabbling after the spilled gems and stared up at the god.

"M-My lord, I can explain-" His voice died away under Lord Antony's glare.

“Who’s this, big brother?”

The voice was lilting and musical, lovelier than flutes and birdsong and sunrises. And then its owner was there, moving up to stand next to Lord Antony, and Hanyu forgot his master’s anger at once.

The woman- the goddess, her tapered ears made it clear she was a goddess- was taller than Lord Antony. Her hair flowed in a rainbow tumble that curled around her slender waist. Her eyes were wide and lovely, one purple and one red, as they looked him over curiously. And her face…

Hanyu had thought that he had seen the face of beauty, but he had been wrong. As it turned out, he had only seen beauty’s brother.

Beads spilled from his hands as he lowered himself gladly into his bow.

“My lord,” he breathed, and the words were not meant for Antony.

“Oh!” There were hands on his shoulders, pulling him up with that inexorable strength he was coming to know so well, but they were… warm? In his confusion, Hanyu glanced up and found himself dazzled once more.

“There’s no need to bow,” said the apparition. “You’re Hanyu, yes? My brother’s friend?”

Hanyu nodded, dumbstruck, and before he could stop himself he was blurting, “How are your hands so warm, my lord?”

The goddess smiled self-consciously, and the rainbow of her hair resolved into a delicate sunrise-pink.

“I can control my temperature,” she said. “It’s just one of the ways things are different for me. My name is Marisu.”

“Queen Marisu,” Lord Antony put in. Hanyu had forgotten he was even there, and he found himself annoyed at the interruption. “We’re sailing to our homeland to put her on the throne. What do you think of that?”

Hanyu thought it was the most perfect idea he had ever heard.

“I can’t wait to serve my queen,” he said. Gods, was he flirting? Where had he found the courage?

But she was smiling and blushing, and Hanyu felt warm all over.

“You’re so sweet,” she said. “I just know we’re going to be great friends.”

Lord Antony said nothing. He had to be aware that he could never compete with such a celestial being.

Hanyu smiled up at her, and when she smiled back he knew that he had found the only reason for living.

Yeah, this is an April Fool’s joke, if you couldn’t guess from the new character’s name being literally ‘Mary Sue.’ :D It was my partner's idea, blame them. Writing it actually took forever... it was just too uncomfortable a reminder of the kind of stuff I used to write when I was 14. :P I’ll see y’all for the real next chapter on Wednesday! <3 Please forgive me for the cliffhanger I left poor Hanyu with!

Chapter Text

ANTONY’S POV

“There’s my two favorite boys!”

Marcus’ jocular cry was accompanied by Marcus himself, who galloped up to Antony and Felix and flung an arm over each of their shoulders. Antony couldn’t help stiffening a little at the contact, but he tried to fight down the reaction and relax. It would be no good to antagonize his lover so soon after a quarrel.

“What are you two up to?” Marcus asked gaily. “Do I need to be jealous? Is my second trying to replace me?”

“As war chief or as my lover?” Antony hoped he had the tone of Marcus’ teasing right and the jibe wouldn’t offend. “I would accept either.”

Marcus threw back his head in a great gale of laughter and Antony relaxed further. He’d been right.

“Well, that’ll be time for me to leave, then.” Felix detached himself and swept them both a flourishing bow. “I’m honored, Lord Antony, but I don’t have the energy for either job. I have quite enough to do keeping up with my dear Eiji. I’ll see you both later.”

Antony wished he wouldn’t go. But they had already arrived at the upper deck, so he wasn’t truly alone with Marcus, even if no one was standing all that close.

“How have you been, Annie?” Marcus’ arm slid from his shoulders to wrap around his waist, loosely enough that he could still walk without too much difficulty. “I haven’t seen you much lately.”

“I’ve been doing some painting and consulting with Theodora on our route,” Antony replied. “We’re taking a bit of a detour.”

He supposed he ought to have a full meeting for the three of them. If their ship was deviating from their plans and Titus was unable or unwilling to tell them whether he was sticking to his prearranged course, they would need a strategy to ensure that no elven ships slipped past them and happened upon the island. Of course his war chief, his second-in-command, should be part of this discussion. Somehow, though, his mind recoiled from the idea of telling Marcus about his brother’s disappearance. It felt dangerous to reveal a vulnerability like that to his lover. He hadn’t even wanted to tell Theodora and Hanyu, and they were the safest people on this whole damned ship.

“Well, you look beautiful.” Marcus bent to drop a soft kiss on Antony’s head. It was far more affection than he usually cared to offer, or Antony cared to accept, in public. But that was to be expected; he was always like this after a bit of roughness. Antony allowed the gesture.

“Have you been well?” Antony asked.

Marcus laughed. “Oh, splendid! My boy has been behaving beautifully since his little scare. I really owe you my thanks for your help with that scene. When you pulled my attention to yourself, I think it really convinced him that I was about to tear him apart. You’ve become quite the actor in your old age, Annie.”

Actor? Scene? That wasn’t right. Marcus had been serious about beating Asao… hadn’t he? Surely that had been real rage. But what if Antony had been wrong? Marcus was the expert on what Marcus had been thinking, of course. Had he really thought Antony’s concern was all an act? Had Antony done something to make him think that he was in on the scheme? Where had he gone wrong?

Damn, this was all too confusing. He was so tired. He just wanted to go back to his rooms and… fix Hanyu’s hair or something. Maybe he could take the boy up on his offer to sing? He knew he’d been using his offering as a security blanket since his and Marcus’ make-up sex, but that didn’t stop him from craving the way he relaxed in Hanyu’s presence.

“In fact,” Marcus went on, not seeming to notice Antony’s confusion, “you should come by my rooms sometime. Anytime, really. And I’ll be sure to show you just how grateful I am.”

These last words came breathy and close, Marcus stooping until his lips brushed teasingly over Antony’s sensitive earlobe.

Antony shivered a little at the stimulation and shot his second a glare. Marcus laughed and straightened.

“Anytime,” he reiterated.

“Well.” Antony cleared his throat and tried to recover his composure. “Thank you for the invitation. Now if you’ll excuse me, the thought of Felix’s meal has me feeling rather peckish myself. I think I’ll go get something to eat.”

“Of course.” Marcus stopped walking and looked down at him with such tenderness that Antony almost changed his mind. He was just about to open his mouth and announce his intention to stay when Marcus dipped his head and pressed a kiss to his lips.

It was soft and gentle, possibly the sweetest kiss his second had ever given him. Antony felt all the resistance leave his body, and he melted against Marcus and lost himself in the sensations. When Marcus pulled away, Antony wasn’t ready for the kiss to be over.

“A taste of that thank-you,” Marcus said, smiling and brushing a finger down Antony’s cheek. “Have a nice meal, my lord.”

“Y-Yes, of course.” Dammit, he hated stammering in front of his war chief. It felt like showing weakness.

If he was going to be weak, then he’d better get himself back to Hanyu.

Antony turned on his heel and marched back down the stairs without a backward glance at his lover.

Strangely enough, he didn’t feel very disappointed to be walking away from Marcus, even after that kiss. Instead his heart felt lighter with every step towards his own door.

Damn, he couldn’t wait to be with Hanyu where it was safe.

Wait. No. That wasn’t right. He couldn’t start thinking of Hanyu as one of the people in his life, as someone to be trusted and missed. He knew where that led. He’d learned his lesson. He could enjoy Hanyu and distract himself with Hanyu, but that was where it had to end.

Still. Where Marcus was heady and confusing, Hanyu was beautifully simple. There weren’t any contradictory feelings or urges to deal with when he was with his offering. It would be so wonderful to settle in with the boy and relax.

Antony stepped through the door, surprised that Hanyu was nowhere to be seen. There was a low, unhappy muttering from the bedroom. Was the boy talking in his sleep again? Was he having a nightmare? Antony would have to wake him. He hurried to the doorway, then froze in shock at the sight that met his eyes.

Hanyu was on his hands and knees, scrabbling over the floorboards next to Antony’s closet, and spread on the floor around him were…

No.

What. The. FUCK.

HANYU’S POV

Hanyu stopped his frantic scrabbling after the spilled gems and stared up at the god, so terrified his head felt light and feathery. He tried to say, “My lord,” and felt his trembling lips form the words, but no sound came out.

Lord Antony’s face was frozen in shock, but his voice had been furious. He was furious. Of course he was furious, what had Hanyu fucking expected?

Furious, and strong. So strong and fast. Hanyu thought of the blood on his master’s clothes after the battle and felt like vomiting. He let the beads fall from his shaking hands and pressed himself to the floor. He wasn’t sure whether he was bowing or simply cowering.

The silence stretched unbearably. Hanyu felt fainter and dizzier with every quick, gasping breath he took.

What was the god going to do to him? He wasn’t just going to be banished from the bedchamber, he was going to be completely ejected from Lord Antony’s life. Everything had been so wonderful, and he had ruined it. He’d be lucky to be beaten, then thrown out and given to the rest of the gods. Hell, he was already lucky to be alive.

Why did he always forget his master’s strength? Why did he forget that the god could do anything to him, anything at all, in the blink of an eye? What would he have been able to do in his own defense if Lord Antony had lost his temper the first instant he walked through the door? How could he ever have thought that his damned idiot curiosity was worth this?

Finally, after what must have been several full minutes of silence, Lord Antony spoke.

“I won’t pretend I’m not angry,” he said, his voice soft and so terribly cold. “But I’m not going to hurt you. We need to talk about this. Look at me.”

Hanyu needed to obey. Now more than ever, he needed to obey. But he couldn’t get his limbs to cooperate. He lay still, too frightened even to cry.

There was a rustle of movement, then a cold grip lifted him easily to his hands and knees. Lord Antony’s face swam in Hanyu’s vision, but he couldn’t get his eyes to focus.

“Hanyu?” The god’s voice was less cold. At any other moment, Hanyu would have thought his master was concerned. “Are you-?”

Lord Antony huffed out a sigh that was almost a growl, then the god was moving them both, settling himself on the floor and pulling Hanyu’s back against his own chest. His arms locked around Hanyu’s waist and pressed their bodies tightly together.

“Easy, Hanyu. I need you to breathe with me.” The god’s chest rose exaggeratedly against Hanyu’s back. “With me. Come on, Hanyu. It’s going to be all right. I promise it will be all right. Breathe now.”

It was a struggle, but finally Hanyu managed to slow his breaths to match his master’s deliberate exhalations. Unfortunately, as his breathing leveled, his mind cleared.

The question was the same. What was the god going to do to him? How could Hanyu ever properly apologize or make up for this? Would he even have the chance? Was he going to be sent away? He would be lucky if that was all that happened, he knew that, but the thought of being banished from Lord Antony’s side was unbearable. He wished miserably that he had never so much as looked at the damn trunks.

His master’s arms around him were strong and soothing, and it was unbearable to think that this was the last time he would feel Lord Antony’s touch. Hanyu began to shake with silent sobs.

“Better?” the god asked, and Hanyu managed to give his head a jerky nod.

He didn’t feel better. If anything, he felt worse now that he could really think through his situation. But he was capable of understanding his punishment, so he had no excuse for making his master wait any longer to deliver it.

Lord Antony released his hold on Hanyu, and he had to fight down the urge to clutch at the god’s hands. Then his master wriggled away from Hanyu’s back and moved to settle cross-legged in front of him. Hanyu kept his tearful gaze fixed firmly on the floor.

“My inclination was to explain to you at great length that this kind of snooping is invasive and unacceptable,” the god said. “But judging by your reaction to getting caught, I don’t suppose that will be necessary. You understand why I am upset?”

Hanyu nodded, sobbing too hard to speak.

“Fuck, Hanyu, please calm down.” Lord Antony sounded less angry than frazzled. “Do you need me to leave?”

Hanyu shook his head vigorously. That was the last thing he wanted.

“All right.” The god leaned forward and began rubbing Hanyu’s shoulders. His slender, chilly fingers were strong and skilled and so utterly undeserved. Hanyu had never felt so abject.

It took a long time for his sobs to stop. Hot tears kept chasing one another down his cheeks. He knew he ought to speak, but he didn’t have the first idea how to begin.

Finally, in another unmerited kindness, Lord Antony broke the silence.

“I’m not going to send you away,” he said. “I assume that’s what you’re worried about?”

Hanyu nodded, and the god huffed out a soft laugh.

“Right, of course.” He sighed. “Well, I’m not. But I want to be very clear that you are not permitted to do this ever again.”

Hanyu nodded again, so vigorously his neck twinged in protest. “I wouldn’t,” he managed to rasp.

“I didn’t think you would.” Lord Antony sighed again. “But even so, this wasn’t such a catastrophe that you needed to melt down like that. I hope you know that I would never put my hands on you when I’m angry. I’m sorry I frightened you so badly.”

It was the absurd wrongness of the apology that made Hanyu jerk his gaze up to meet the god’s.

Lord Antony didn’t look angry. Frustrated, yes, and worried, but more than anything he looked… hurt.

Hanyu felt like scum. It was good he hadn’t apologized yet, because the apologies would have been selfish and empty. From the moment Lord Antony had appeared in the doorway, Hanyu had been sorry he’d been caught, not sorry for what he’d done.

He’d known the god would be angry, but he hadn’t considered that Antony might find his snooping truly hurtful. It felt unreal that he would be important enough to his master that he was even capable of hurting him, but clearly he had. He had been… trusted, strange as it was, and he had violated that trust. That needed to be the focus of his apology, not cowardly self-preservation.

“You d-don’t owe me an apology,” he said, forcing himself to keep his eyes on Antony’s instead of dropping back to the floor the way he wanted to do. “I owe you one. I was… bored, and curious, and I knew it was wrong but I still did it, and… if you want to send me away, I won’t make a scene. I know it’s what I deserve.”

Antony maintained eye contact through his entire tremulous speech, which was very nearly unbearable, but Hanyu knew he owed the god his sincerity.

“I’m not sending you away,” his master said when it was clear Hanyu had finished speaking. “Really, I should have expected something like this when you said you and your friends used to sneak into the older boys’ rooms to try on their clothes. But I don’t suppose I need to tell you that the things in that trunk are very important to me, as well as being extremely old and fragile, and it was a bad shock to find you going through them.”

Hanyu had never thought of his childhood ventures into the other offerings’ rooms as invasive, but he supposed that they had been. He’d certainly been annoyed when the younger boys had begun doing it to him. Still, it was nothing like what he’d done today, and he knew it.

“I… I don’t even know how to begin to apologize,” he said weakly. “It was so wrong, even if I hadn’t… I’m so sorry for destroying your robe, my lord.”

“Well, I don’t know that it’s entirely destroyed.” Blessedly, Antony broke their eye contact to glance down at the crumpled fabric. “Even if it was, you chose wisely. Out of everything in that trunk, I care the least about the robe.”

Hanyu felt a tiny bit better. Only a tiny bit, but it was something.

Lord Antony took the robe and began folding it with careful, practiced movements that sent more beads scattering over the floor. He looked up and gave Hanyu a small smile. It was cautious and clearly a little forced, but Hanyu felt like he had never seen anything so beautiful.

“Are you going to help me gather up these jewels or are your eyes too swollen from all that carrying on?” Antony asked. “I don’t fancy stepping on one of these in the dark.”

Hanyu couldn’t help his own tremulous smile at the fact that he knew the grumbling for what it was:

Reassurance. He was going to be kept.

He didn’t dare speculate any further than that.

Chapter Text

ANTONY’S POV

Antony stewed as he crawled after the little bright beads. He had no idea what to do.

He knew he needed to punish Hanyu. Hell, Hanyu knew he needed to punish Hanyu, and punish him severely. This prying and disrespect were the sorts of things that could eventually make sharing quarters with an offering unsustainable. What if Hanyu went through his desk and somehow got the box with his enchanted papers open? What if he damaged them like he had the robe? They were irreplaceable.

Besides, he felt dizzy and ill when he thought of Hanyu damaging anything other than his old court robe. What if it had been his portraits, or Valerius’ letters? Just the thought made Antony livid.

But even so, he desperately didn’t want to punish the boy.

He glanced over at Hanyu. His offering was gathering gems that had rolled into the corners of the room, seemingly unwilling to come any closer to Antony or the items spread over the floor. The boy’s whole body was still shaking, his lips were pressed together too tightly, and his face was pale and tearstained. He was still crying at a slow, silent pace, but at least it wasn’t the frantic sobs of before or the frankly terrifying silent, tearless tremors that had shaken Antony from his first flush of indignation.

How was a person supposed to be angry with someone who looked so upset?

But Antony was angry. Not angry enough that he wanted to hurt Hanyu, though. But he should. Shouldn’t he?

What he should have done was send Hanyu away. If he’d caught any other offering doing this, he would have gotten rid of him, even back in the days when he tried to befriend them all. But his mind recoiled from that idea, probably because the brat’s blood was so good. No, he needed a different punishment.

When he’d delivered punishments to humans before, he’d always kept it simple- a dozen or so light swats with a cane, nothing too elaborate. It wasn’t a bedroom game, it was discipline for an unruly meal. He’d never wanted to punish by withholding food or sleep, or by humiliations that seemed, again, dangerously close to bed play. No, he’d always believed in short, simple, physical punishments, when he could be bothered to deliver even that much.

This time, there was a problem. He didn’t want to lift so much as a finger against Hanyu. He didn’t want to risk bringing about those silent shivering gasps again. And he desperately didn't want to do anything at all that would justify the terror the boy had felt upon seeing him.

He stole another glance. Hanyu was already looking at him and dropped his teary eyes, chastened, when he saw Antony look back.

Dammit. He didn’t want to punish the brat. He wanted to comfort him and tease him and make him feel at ease until he didn’t cringe away from Antony’s gaze anymore.

A knock on the door jolted him from his thoughts. Hanyu’s head jerked up and he began frantically wiping at his teary eyes with his sleeves. He didn’t want the attendant to see that he’d been crying, Antony realized.

“I’ll get it,” he said, dropping his handful of gems in a little pile and getting to his feet.

“Thank you, my lord,” Hanyu said meekly. Antony realized with a flash of annoyance that he wished the boy would use his name again. Why the fuck did he care?

He opened the door and found Eiji waiting with a tray. The man was less surprised to see him this time, but his eyes still widened and he ducked his head in a hasty bow.

“Hello, Eiji,” Antony greeted, and the man peered curiously at him. “Are you well today?”

“Yes, my lord,” Eiji replied. “Thank you.”

“Thank you,” Antony said, taking the tray from his hands. “Have a good day.”

He was getting better at talking to humans other than Hanyu, Antony decided. He felt self-congratulatory as he set the tray on the table.

Hanyu did not appear, so Antony wandered back into the bedchamber. The boy was still gathering beads, and he ducked down into a closed-fisted bow when Antony stepped through the door.

“Oh heavens, boy, I just stepped into the next room,” Antony chastised. “Don’t you want your food?”

“I-” Hanyu hesitated, not moving from his bow. “I’m not finished with the beads, my lord.”

“Never mind, they don’t matter.” Antony was starting to feel a little desperate. Had he really been so frightening, so unreasonable? He hadn’t meant to be.

Hanyu set his handful of gems down and got to his feet. He kept his eyes downcast but passed meekly into the sitting room and sat down for his meal.

Once he was gone, Antony crouched down and put all his portraits and letters carefully back into the waterproof box, then settled his court robe on top of it. It gave him a twinge to see the old thing crumbling and torn. When he was young, he’d worn it with such pride. Goodness knew his father hadn’t given him much else to acknowledge their connection.

For a moment he remembered how it had looked a thousand years ago when it was new, the colors bright and the fabric stiff with gold embroidery that caught the light as greedily as the jewels stitched all over it. He had blazed like a torch in his father’s great hall, as brightly as any of the king’s trueborn children, and he had thought it close enough to love.

He had been wrong. All these centuries later, he saw the faded old thing for the useless placebo it had always been. If Hanyu had torn any of the other mementos in this box Antony would have wept, but this old rag and the father it symbolized for him were better left in the distant past. He closed the lid and turned his back on the chest of dusty memories, hoping that he would find his offering in better spirits.

He did not. Hanyu hunched over his cold and barely touched bowl of oatmeal, stirring it morosely with a spoon and not looking up as Antony sat down across from him. His tears had stopped, but he looked like the slightest word would start them up again.

Dammit. The boy had been punished enough, Antony decided. He took a deep breath and tried not to feel weak for what he was about to say.

“Hanyu.” The boy raised nervous, reddened eyes to his, and Antony reminded himself that there was still time not to say it, time to behave like a proper lord with proper requirements.

Hanyu’s lip quivered a little. Well, that's the end of that. Antony sighed and plunged ahead.

“I’m not going to punish you. I’d rather we just put it behind us. So don’t look so miserable, all right?”

The damned idiot boy looked even more miserable. “But… why not, my lord? I know I deserve it.”

Antony scowled. “Why are you arguing about this? Aren’t you afraid of being punished?”

“Yes, my lord,” Hanyu whispered.

“Well then, don’t you want to avoid the punishment? Isn’t that why you didn’t want to be caught?”

“I…” Hanyu hesitated, staring down at his food. “I don’t know, my lord. I thought… well, I am definitely very afraid of being punished, but I also hate that I disappointed you. And since it would take a punishment to make us right again, I suppose-”

“Hold on,” Antony interrupted. “A punishment does what?”

Hanyu ducked his head. “We… we were always told that when we did wrong, we cut ourselves off from the gods’ grace and could only be restored through receiving a just punishment. That’s why we were taught to request a punishment when we displeased you- so that you would forgive us afterwards.”

“Oh.” A part of the offerings’ behavior that had confused Antony for centuries came clear. “But…”

He’d never seen it that way. He had only ever used punishments to emphasize his displeasure with a behavior and ensure that it would not be repeated. There hadn’t been any sense of an equilibrium disrupted and restored. No offering’s behavior had mattered enough to him for that.

Antony took a breath and felt his scowl deepen. He turned it on Hanyu’s barely touched meal rather than the frightened boy.

“I don’t need to hurt you to forgive you, Hanyu,” he growled. When had he grown so soft? Marcus would- well, best not to think what Marcus would do. “You weren’t being malicious. Anyhow, you matter more than an old piece of fabric. I hardly know why I’ve kept the damn thing this long.”

He glanced up and saw that the boy was gaping at him, eyes brimming and spilling down his cheeks. Antony dropped his glare to the food again.

“I don’t want you to be frightened,” he concluded. “I want you happy. If you need a punishment to be happy, then I command you to eat that cold food as your punishment. If you don’t need to be punished… well, then you still have to eat the food, because I’m hungry and I won’t have you fainting away after I drink from you. All right?”

Hanyu didn’t reply, probably because he was sobbing again. He jerked his head in a vigorous nod instead, then grabbed up his spoon and loaded it with thick oatmeal.

Antony felt fairly confident in his guess, but he still wanted to check. “This is good crying?”

Hanyu nodded again, and he lifted his chin enough to give Antony a wide smile through his tears.

“Well.” Antony turned his glare down to his own hands on the table. Maybe it would hide the relieved smile twitching at the corners of his mouth. “That’s all right, then.”

HANYU’S POV

The oatmeal was a lukewarm sludge and he had to force himself to swallow it down. Still, it wasn’t much of a punishment.

It had all seemed more like a reward than a punishment. Hanyu had misbehaved, and he was held and comforted and told he mattered. What would Antony do if he ever managed to be good?

“Do you feel all right?” the god asked anxiously once Hanyu choked down the last bite of his oatmeal.

“Yes, my lord.” It was partially true. He felt safe and stable, just incredibly tired. After the fear and shame and misery that had stampeded through his body- not to mention his shaking and sobs- he felt hollowed out. He didn’t think he could manage even one more emotion or mental exertion. He just wanted to go to sleep.

“All right then.” Antony stood and crossed to the couch, where he sat down and patted the seat next to him. “Come on, sit down.”

Hanyu obeyed, feeling as if he were moving through a dream. His body was heavy and his head felt thick and slow. But finally, he settled onto the couch next to his master.

It felt wonderful when Lord Antony’s powerful arm slid around his waist and tugged gently, prodding Hanyu to lean down so the god could reach his neck. Hanyu couldn’t restrain an embarrassingly high, needy moan when Antony’s fangs found their accustomed place and he felt the heady pinch of his blood being drained. Hanyu’s head spun and his mind slowed even further, and he sagged against the god’s small, solid form.

Antony stopped drinking and pulled back. Hanyu slumped forward, chasing his master’s support.

“Fuck, Hanyu, are you all right?” the god demanded.

“Hmmm.” Hanyu tried to nod, but he was far too sleepy.

“I barely took any-” Antony stopped, then sighed. “It’s not the blood loss. You’re just tired, aren’t you? No wonder, after all that shaking and crying. Dammit. I shouldn’t have drunk from you. I’m sorry.”

“Hmmm.” It probably made him a bad offering, but Hanyu liked to hear the apologies. He liked the care his master took with him.

He liked it even more when Antony swore grouchily to himself and pulled his body into his lap. Once Hanyu’s ass was firmly planted on his master’s lap, Antony slipped one arm under his knees and secured the other around his torso. Hanyu wished he was less exhausted and more able to appreciate what was happening as the god got to his feet, lifting Hanyu in his arms as easily as if he weighed no more than the robe he wore.

Hanyu’s height made the whole endeavor a little awkward. Antony’s knees kept bumping against his backside, and he couldn’t lay his aching head against the god’s still, chilly chest as he longed to do because it was much too far down. Still, he wished that his master was carrying him somewhere much farther away than the bedroom, that he could stay cradled in this strength and care for hours and hours.

Instead, it took barely a moment for the god to cross the sitting room and deposit Hanyu- not on his cot, but in Antony’s own bed.

“Hmmm?”

It wasn’t much of a query, but the god seemed to understand his confusion. Hanyu’s vision was fuzzy with exhaustion, but he could still see the scowl Antony shot down at him.

“I’m not going to put someone in the middle of a collapse on the floor. Now get some sleep, will you?” the god grumbled as he pulled the sheets over Hanyu.

The bed was soft and large and Hanyu hoped that Antony would get into it with him. But before he could find out what happened next, he was fast asleep.

Chapter Text

HANYU’S POV

When Hanyu woke up, his first thought was that he had a terrible headache. His second thought was that he was in Lord Antony’s bed, and that was far more interesting than his head.

Had the god joined him? He didn’t sense any other weight on the mattress, but he still moved slowly and carefully as he turned to survey the rest of the bed just in case there was someone to wake.

There wasn’t. In fact, Antony might not have been able to join him even if he’d been so inclined. Hanyu had gathered all the sheets around himself in a tangled cocoon and had shifted so that he lay diagonally on the mattress, leaving no room for any potential bedmate who cared to do without covers. No wonder the god didn’t want to share a bed with him.

Hanyu heaved himself up to a sitting position, which made his head throb so angrily that his stomach lurched a little. He kept his eyes shut against the pain until it subsided a bit, then he scanned the bedroom for any sign of his master.

There were none. There was also no sign of yesterday’s intrusion. The floor by the closet was clear and the doors were tightly shut. It was as if the whole fiasco had never happened, except that Hanyu was snuggled in Antony’s bed and he had a fuzzy memory of being carried there. Damn, he wished he’d been more awake for that. He’d been close enough to learn the scent of Antony’s hair, but he hadn’t even thought of it.

Well. It wasn’t too late. Hanyu grabbed the pillow and was in the act of lifting it to his face when the god stepped through the door.

“I see you’re awake,” Antony said dryly. Hanyu let the pillow fall to his lap and felt heat creep over his face.

“Yes, my lord,” he said timidly. “Thank you for letting me use your bed. Where did you sleep?”

“I didn’t.” The god shrugged. “It’s an indulgence, not a necessity. How did you sleep? Do you feel better?”

“I slept well, my lord, thank you.” Hanyu stared down at his hands where he’d clasped them over the pillow. He felt shy about meeting his master’s eyes today. “I’m sorry my weakness kept you from drinking last night. Did you get enough?”

“Don’t trouble yourself about me,” Antony said, waving a hand dismissively. “I assure you that I can look after myself. And I notice that you very neatly dodged my second question: how are you feeling?”

“I feel better than I did.” Hanyu felt a little defensive, but the god was right. He’d been avoiding the question. “It’s just that my head hurts.”

Antony growled a little and struck himself noisily on the forehead. “Of course it does. Dammit. I should have thought… after all that crying, I should have given you water. Fuck. I’m sorry, Hanyu.”

“I could have gotten my own water,” Hanyu argued, finally looking up and meeting Antony’s eyes. His god looked irritated and a little mournful, and Hanyu wished he could get him to laugh again. “Anyhow, you told me yourself that it isn’t your job to monitor me all the time and make sure I’ve eaten and slept and things.”

“Did I say it like that?” Antony’s face fell, and it was the god’s turn to look away. “Well. Even if that’s true, it is my job to monitor you when you’re that upset. You can’t think about things like water when you’re having a collapse. I failed to care for you properly, and I’m sorry for that. Now stay there, I’ll be right back.”

The god turned on his heel, long braid swinging, and rushed out of the bedchamber. He returned a moment later at a much more sedate pace, carefully balancing the glass pitcher of drinking water.

“Where is your cup?” he demanded as he set the pitcher down on the flat top of his bookshelf.

“I keep it in my washroom,” Hanyu said. “Please, don’t trouble yourse-”

The god was already gone. When he came back with Hanyu’s little clay cup in his hand, he was scowling so ferociously that Hanyu wished he wasn’t in the bed so he could make a proper bow.

“Is that all the space you have?” he demanded.

“The closet?” Hanyu blurted. “Well… yes, my lord.”

“That’s ridiculous!” Lord Antony glared down at the cup as he filled it. “Your things barely fit in there! How do you have room to piss?”

“It’s a little cramped,” Hanyu admitted, accepting the cup and draining it with a few quick gulps. Fuck, that water felt good going down his throat! He wished he had more. Antony seemed aware of that wish, because he extended a hand to reclaim the cup and began refilling it.

“I hope you don’t think I’m ungrateful,” Hanyu rushed to say. “It’s an honor to have a space in your quarters.”

“You barely do,” the god grumbled, returning the refilled cup. “I can’t believe I never looked in there before. Well, it won’t do.”

Hanyu guzzled the water before responding. “There’s nowhere else for me to be out of your way, my lord. It’s fine.”

“It’s not!” Antony scowled. “We’re going to get rid of that washbasin and you can share my washroom. Then you’ll have room for your things. Do you want more water?”

Hanyu blinked up at him, astonished. Was the god joking? No, his face was serious, if a little impatient as he waited for an answer. But surely he couldn’t really mean to share even more of his limited intimate space with Hanyu.

“Well?” Antony prodded. “More water?”

“Y-yes,” Hanyu stammered. “But I… are you sure?”

“I don’t drink it,” the god assured him. “Have all you want.”

“No- I mean, thank you, but-” Hanyu accepted the cup but kept his eyes fixed on his master’s face. “Are you sure you want me in your washroom?”

“Oh, that.” Antony rolled his eyes. “I wouldn’t offer it if I wasn’t sure. In fact, I don’t believe I did offer it. I told you what we were going to be doing.”

“Well, yes.” Hanyu laughed a little, more bewildered than amused. “I suppose you did. Thank you, Antony.”

The god smiled his tiny, reluctant smile, and Hanyu felt warm all through. He quickly drained his cup.

“Of course.” Antony waved his hand dismissively. “More water?”

“No, I think that was enough. Thank you.” Hanyu smiled at him.

“Good. Do you feel like eating? You slept through two meal deliveries, but I saved them both. They’ll be cold, but I suppose we can call that the final part of your punishment.”

Hanyu’s laugh was heartier this time. “Is that always your preferred method of punishment, my lord? Cold food?”

“No, that’s new,” Antony grumbled. “And frankly my preferred punishment is not to, so I’d rather we considered the cold food one of life’s small misfortunes than anything I’m inflicting on you. If you feel like eating, of course. Do you feel like eating?”

“Yes, please,” Hanyu said. When the god turned again, he called out to him. “Wait! I can get up, my lord. You don’t have to trouble yourself.”

“It’s no trouble,” Antony insisted.

“But I don’t want to get crumbs in your bed,” Hanyu pleaded. “Please, Antony, I promise I’m able to get up. It just feels like a hangover, nothing too terrible.”

“If my memory serves, hangovers can be rather terrible,” the god said.

Nevertheless, he returned to the bedside and watched as Hanyu floundered out of the knot of sheets he’d made around himself. He extended a hand once Hanyu was loose and helped him to his feet, which was nice because Hanyu’s still-aching head spun and he might have had to sit down again without his master’s support.

Antony kept his hand tucked under Hanyu’s elbow all the way to the sitting room. Hanyu felt warm all through his body at his god’s solicitousness, even though he didn’t really need the help. Once he was seated in front of the two trays, Antony strode over to his cupboard and returned with a little bottle, from which he shook a few drops into a cup of water.

“What’s that?” Hanyu asked, popping an orange slice into his mouth.

“It’s a concoction of Julia’s. It’ll help with your headache.” Antony set the cup in front of him. “Do you think the food will be edible, or should we go ask for more? There would probably be a few attendants still in the kitchens.”

“This will be fine,” Hanyu assured him.

The food might have been cold, but now that he’d had a bite he found himself ravenous. He couldn’t wait to eat the yams, the bread, the cheese, the bright handful of oranges and limes. There was even a thin slice of meat on one of the plates that did not appear to be fish, which he’d already realized was a rare treat on the ship.

The god watched him eat with avid attention, and Hanyu was feeling a little self-conscious by the time he pushed the trays away, sated.

“Thank you,” he said, smiling at Antony. His master scowled.

“I didn’t make it,” Antony grumbled.

“No, but you kept it for me.” You kept me. “What can I do for you, Antony? Do you need to drink from me again? I know you didn’t get much before.”

“You swooned as soon as I took a sip,” his god said incredulously. “Of course I’m not drinking from you today!”

“Then there must be something else I can do for you.” Hanyu felt desperation clawing at his belly and throat.

“You can supervise while I move your things into the washroom,” Antony said. “Come on.”

No! This was all wrong.

Misery squeezed Hanyu’s insides and his head pounded as he trailed the god back into the bedroom. His unhappiness intensified when Antony turned to the tangled mess of bedsheets he’d left and began straightening them.

“Oh- please let me take care of that, my lord,” Hanyu begged. He rushed to the other side of the bed, but the god was already tucking down the last corner. Damn, he was so fast!

“You can sit here or on the chair,” Antony said, oblivious to his distress. “But I want you to be able to see where I put everything so you can find it later.”

“Please don’t trouble yourself,” Hanyu whispered, but the god was already gone.

This was all so wrong. Today more than ever, he needed to be good. He needed to be obedient and pleasing and useful so that his master would know that he was grateful for the mercy he’d received. He couldn’t let Antony think that he was taking his kindness for granted. He had to do anything he could to prevent the god from regretting his decision to keep him. How was he supposed to do any of that when Antony was insisting on rushing around acting as if he were Hanyu’s attendant?

The god bustled back in with Hanyu’s box of makeup and jewelry tucked under one arm and his chamber pot in the other hand, held at arm’s length. At another moment Hanyu might have laughed to see a god so squeamish, but as it was he felt miserable tears spring to his eyes.

”Please, my lord, allow me to take care of that,” he implored, stumbling blindly to his feet. “You shouldn’t have to-”

“I don’t have to,” Antony interrupted. “I’m putting this in the corner, all right?”

Hanyu dropped back onto the bed. He wanted to watch where his master put his things. It was the only reason he was being allowed this proximity to the god. But the helpless tears were coming too fast for him to see anything.

It was the simplest instruction in the world: sit and watch. And he couldn’t even manage that. Why on earth was Lord Antony wasting his time with him?

“I- Hanyu, what’s wrong?” The god’s voice was alarmed, and then it was coming from right in front of him. “Is it your head?”

Hanyu scrubbed at his eyes. “N-no… I’m sorry, my lord, it’s not that. Please forgive me, I know you don’t like my crying…”

“Never mind that,” Antony said impatiently. “What’s wrong? Should I fetch Julia?”

“No!” Fuck, Hanyu was dangerously close to snapping. He pulled in a deep breath and did his best to soften the frustration in his voice. “I just… I feel useless, and it’s upsetting me.”

“Oh.” Lord Antony sounded baffled. After another swipe at his eyes, Hanyu was able to look up and see the god regarding him with a strange look on his face. A moment more, and he let out a gusty sigh.

“It was not my intention to make you feel useless,” he said, a little stiffly. “I was simply trying to… compensate you for the mistakes I made yesterday.”

“The mistakes you made?” Hanyu goggled up at the god, who was glaring at the ceiling rather than at him.

“Yes,” Antony told the ceiling. “I was angry when I found you looking at my things, and I snapped at you.”

“You barely snapped,” Hanyu argued. “Maybe one sentence, when you first came in.”

“One sentence too many. I scared you halfway to an early death.”

“Anyone would have been angry. I would have shouted if it had been me.”

“That’s different.” Antony scowled harder at the ceiling. “You don’t own anybody. I am responsible for you.“

That was a new thought. The priests always spoke about the offerings’ belonging to the gods as being such an incredible honor that simply in exchange for their ownership, the offerings owed them perfect obedience. There had never been any sense that there was anything the gods might owe them. He would have called the idea blasphemous if anyone else had dared to suggest it.

“And after snapping at you,” Antony continued, “I came out and told you I was angry. It was completely irresponsible.”

“That’s not…” Hanyu cast his mind back, a little reluctantly. He couldn’t remember exactly what had been said- had he even really heard it through his blind panic? – but on a few points he was clear. “You said we needed to talk, but you were calm. You weren’t being threatening.”

“You clearly felt threatened,” the god countered. “You had a meltdown that even scared me.”

Hanyu felt a jolt of surprise at that, which was quickly subsumed under shame (he really was a terrible offering) and a little tinge of pleasure (Antony had been scared for him!).

“That wasn’t your fault,” he said. “You were being calm and fair. I was only afraid because I’d been caught doing something I knew was wrong.”

“And because you thought I was going to punish you. So you certainly did feel threatened.”

“I- well yes, I thought you would send me away. Not as a punishment, exactly, but because I proved myself untrustworthy and no longer deserving of the honor of sharing your quarters. It would have been a consequence, and a fair one, not a punishment.”

“That’s not the point.” Antony flicked his eyes to Hanyu’s, then returned them to the ceiling. “The point is that you were upset and I didn’t pay enough attention to see that you needed to be reassured, not scolded.”

“I was upset because I was caught doing something that should have gotten half my hide flogged off. Anyhow, you did reassure me!” Hanyu argued. “You held me and promised to keep me. It was more kindness than I deserved. More than I still deserve, which is why I want to be useful today. I need to repay your mercy, my lord. I need a chance to prove that you weren’t wrong to keep me.”

“And I would like to prove that you weren’t wrong to want to be kept. I scared you, then drank from you when you were too weak and upset to bear it. I am not feeling like a master that one would want to remain with today.”

Once again, Hanyu was struck silent. Had he not made it clear enough that he enjoyed and appreciated his position here? Had he seemed ungrateful? Didn’t Antony know that belonging to him was the best thing that had ever happened in Hanyu’s life?

“Antony,” he said, “you have been so kind to me and forgiving of all my flaws. I never could have expected such gentleness from any god, let alone their lord. You didn’t do anything wrong yesterday, but even if you had, it wouldn’t be enough to make me want to leave.”

Finally, the god’s gaze found his and stayed. Hanyu smiled at him. Antony’s eyes narrowed, and Hanyu had to concentrate to keep from squirming under his close scrutiny, but after a moment the god relaxed a little and rewarded him with one of his own cautious little smiles. Hanyu’s heart thudded with almost painful joy.

“All right,” his master said. “Well. That’s kind of you to say. In exchange, I’ll tell you how you can be useful to me tonight.”

“Oh yes!” Would Hanyu never learn? Even after all this time, he couldn’t help hoping that the god was about to ask him for sexual service.

“I’d like you to get dressed up and let me fix your hair so I can finish that damn cursed painting,” he said instead.

“You’re staying in?” That was almost as good, even if it meant more holding still. “Isn’t it night now?”

“If anybody needs me, they know where to find me,” Antony replied. “Now come on, maybe I’ll capture you better this time.”

ANTONY’S POV

Antony was never going to capture a good likeness of this damn boy. How could you paint someone whose mouth never stopped moving?

“… and the high priest wanted to know who had laughed and he had just threatened to sell me away from the temple the week before, so I knew that would be it for me. I just about shook right out of my skin! But before I could step forward, Asao said it was him and he had to kneel in the meditation room for a whole day and night as punishment. His knees were so sore by the end! But he told me to stop crying and thanking him because he liked meditating, so it hadn’t been so bad. He’s funny like that. He likes being praised for his skills or his beauty, but not for anything he does. Do you know anyone like that? Is the high priest as awful as he seems?”

The boy paused to suck in a long-overdue breath, and Antony sighed.

“As for your first question, yes, I suppose I do. Messalina is my best archer and she wants to be told that she’s the best on a regular basis, but she doesn’t like to be praised for anything else. And Felix hates to be praised for anything at all. I’d have to think about the others.” Speaking of thinking… “What was the second question?”

“I wondered what the high priest is really like.”

“Right.” Antony shook his head at the boy. “But really, you know better than I do. The current one has only held his post for two or three of my visits.”

“But you spend hours with him each time!” Hanyu argued. “I never even saw him up close until the offering ceremony.”

“But you just said he threatened to sell you.”

“That was based on the reports he’d gotten from Father Shu. And he announced it during one of his inspections, so it wasn’t as if I was summoned to meet with him privately.”

“He threatened to banish you in front of everyone?” Antony stared at the boy, forgetting his painting. At Hanyu’s nod, he snorted, feeling indignation curling in his belly. “Well, there’s your answer. What he’s really like is: an asshole.”

Hanyu’s burst of surprised laughter gratified him and soothed his irritation a little. Still, what a pompous prick.

“But you had conversations!” Hanyu wasn’t giving up, even though he looked slightly scandalized at Antony’s word choice.

“They were formalities.” Antony almost waved his hand dismissively, forgetting the delicate brush he still held. Right. Painting. He was supposed to be painting. “Anyhow, of course he wasn’t an asshole to me. You got a more accurate view of him than I did.”

“Hmmm.” Hanyu seemed unconvinced.

“You’ve mentioned a ‘Father Shu’ quite a bit,” Antony said after a moment. “He sounds nice enough. Do you think he would make a good high priest?”

Hanyu’s shocked gaping was cut short by a knock on the door.

“Hold still,” Antony instructed as he got up.

“I- wait, Antony!” Hanyu sputtered from behind him.

Julia was standing on the other side of the door. Her hair was a mess, and she looked irritated.

“You’re needed on deck,” she said. “There’s been a dispute, and it turned violent.”

“Marcus?” Antony felt his senses sharpen and chills shiver through the underside of his skin.

“What? No.” Julia squinted at him. “It’s Messalina and Thaddeus. I don’t know what they were squabbling over, but Marcus has them ready for you.”

“One moment.” Antony turned back and set the brush, which he realized only now he was still holding, back on his easel. “Clean my brushes for me, all right, Hanyu? And feel free to go to sleep, I might be a while.”

“Yes, my lord.” In Julia’s presence Hanyu was the image of propriety, bending his head in meek assent.

Julia was quiet as they made their way to the upper deck, and Antony was grateful for it. He was finding it more difficult than usual to assume his ‘royal’ mentality. After all the mistakes he had made with Hanyu yesterday, he didn’t feel like passing judgement or punishing anyone. He just wanted to beg all his vampires to behave -”Can’t you be nice to each other? Think how much better you would all feel if you were just nice to each other. Come on now, say you’re sorry and give each other a hug.” -the way his mother used to do when he and his siblings had squabbled.

Somehow, he doubted the method would work quite as well as it had then.

“I know this will sound like me trying to influence you on Thaddeus’ behalf, but Messalina will be trouble,” Julia said finally. “She’s been spoiling for a fight lately. I don’t know how Iovita puts up with that woman.”

“They’re patient,” Antony replied. He was glad for the information, though. It was good to know what he was about to walk into.

He had no doubts about Julia’s assessment, either. Thaddeus may have been her lover, but she was so deeply, unsentimentally practical that it worried him sometimes. She would never lie about something that affected the smooth operation of the ship.

Antony had never been able to match her for coolheadedness, though he’d thought he was getting close lately.

That had been before Hanyu. Damn brat ruined everything.

Chapter Text

ANTONY’S POV

Just as Julia had predicted, Messalina looked angry enough to rip Antony’s eyes from his skull. Her broad shoulders were so tense that Antony felt weary just looking at her. Thaddeus looked pissed as well, but Antony noticed right away that Marcus’ attention was focused entirely on Messalina. Apparently, and unsurprisingly, Thaddeus had been no trouble so far.

Both of them were badly rumpled. Messalina had four deep scratches across one cheek, and Thaddeus was nursing a swollen eye. Clearly, it had been a vicious fight, if not a long one- each of them had been aiming for their opponent’s face.

“All right, what’s going on?” Antony sauntered towards them with all the careless authority he could muster.

Marcus and Thaddeus tipped their heads deferentially. Messalina only glowered.

“Thaddeus says Messalina put her hands on one of his humans,” Marcus told him. “Messalina says that they were just talking, and that Thaddeus attacked her because the human wanted to leave his service and enter hers. None of us was present, at least not until Cloelia heard them crashing around and came to separate them.”

Cloelia, the elaborately tattooed and appallingly muscular head of the ship’s fishing operations, scowled at the two combatants with undiscriminating irritation. Poor Thad. He wasn’t getting much softness or sympathy from either of his lovers today.

Well, if he wanted softness, he probably wouldn’t have chosen Julia and Cloelia in the first place.

“I see. That makes it easy to learn the truth.” Antony was relieved. He hated interrogating his vampires, and neither Thaddeus nor Messalina was given to deceit. “Where is the human in question?”

The man crawled forward, trembling visibly. Thaddeus glanced down at him with concern plain on his face, which gratified Antony. Apparently, his desire for everyone to get along and be nice to each other extended to their offerings today.

“What’s your name?” Antony asked.

“Daido, my lord,” he managed.

“All right, Daido. We won’t make you recount what happened in front of everybody. Do you want to tell me what happened, or Lord Felix?”

Felix looked up from where he stood among the onlookers, surprised. Well, Antony might have missed the position that Felix occupied for the humans on the ship for many years, but no more. The more Hanyu told him about the offerings, the more he heard Felix’s name, and he wasn’t quite stupid enough to ignore an asset once he knew he had it.

He was proved right when the man timidly requested to speak with Felix. Felix, for his part, quickly swallowed his surprise and knelt in front of the man with a warm smile.

“Hello, Daido. It’s nice to see you again. Why don’t you get up and come with me?”

Daido followed Felix to Theodora’s wheel, where they would be out of earshot. That handled, Antony turned his attention back to the miscreants.

“He said he wanted to belong to me instead,” Messalina snapped before Antony could even ask. “He said Thaddeus is dull.”

That was entirely possible and judging from the wounded look on Thad’s face, he knew it too. Thaddeus was a good, reliable man with a wonderful ability to pare a complicated situation down to only the relevant issues. That didn’t mean that he was very exciting. Antony remembered an excruciating night spent listening to Thaddeus rhapsodizing about all the different shapes of fish fins he had catalogued over the years, complete with detailed diagrams. If Daido had been forced to listen to that for a few years, it wasn’t unthinkable that he might wish to run into the arms of a fiery master warrior instead.

“I don’t know what they were discussing,” Thaddeus said slowly. “I just came upon Messalina with her arm around his shoulders, and she was leaning in and I thought she was going to drink from him. If that was how the conversation went, then I owe you both an apology.”

“You would give him over to Messalina?” Antony was a little surprised. That would certainly make his night easier.

“Of course, if that is his wish.” Thaddeus winced. “And… well, I suppose that would open me up to a lashing for touching someone else’s attendant. Oh, dear. Well, that can’t be helped.”

“I’m not going to lash you over a misunderstanding,” Antony snapped.

He would have said more, but Felix was motioning for him to join their little conference, and he excused himself and jogged over to the wheel.

“Messalina isn’t lying, but she’s confused,” Felix said once Antony reached them. Daido was kneeling by his feet looking utterly miserable. “She misinterpreted some things Daido said, but he never asked her to take him from Thaddeus.”

“Misinterpreted how?” Antony asked. “What did he say to her?”

“With respect, Lord Antony, you did tell Daido he could explain things to me rather than you.” Felix’s head was inclined politely, but his tone was firm. Antony swallowed a sigh.

“All right, that’s fair,” he agreed. “But I need to know whether these things were close enough that Messalina could truly believe that that was what he was asking,”

Daido slumped forward into a full bow. “My lords, I didn’t mean to be ungrateful to my master. I shouldn’t have complained. I know I was wrong. I-”

“Oh, is that the problem?” Antony couldn’t help laughing. “You think you’ll be in trouble for complaining about Thad? Let me tell you, Daido, my Hanyu could complain to you for a whole day without running out of grievances and I’d have no fair way to argue any of it. You live together, for fuck’s sake. Of course Thad gets under your skin.”

Daido stayed down, but Felix looked at him curiously. For someone who had known him for longer than any one creature should stay alive, Antony was having a hard time reading his expression.

“It was close enough,” Felix confirmed after a moment. “Most of us wouldn’t be arrogant enough to take it that way, but Lina? Absolutely.”

“All right.” Antony nodded. “Last question, Daido. Do you want to belong to Messalina or Thaddeus? He’s willing to give up his claim if it’s what you want.”

“I want to stay with Lord Thaddeus,” Daido whispered. “I will try to be worthier of him, my lord, I swear, and I'll be happy to accept any punishment for causing all this trouble. Please don’t give me to another master.”

“That’s all right, then.” Antony turned on his heel, pausing only to ask Felix, “See him back to Thad’s rooms, will you?”

By the time Antony got back to the steadily growing crowd on the deck, Messalina looked even more pissed. He made sure to keep his voice and face matter of fact.

“It was just a misunderstanding,” he told the assembled group. “Daido didn’t mean for you to take him, Messalina. He still belongs to Thaddeus and wants it that way. I’m not pleased that you two laid hands on each other, but since it was all just an honest mistake I think we can-”

“No!” Messalina’s voice cracked like breaking ice. “You believe that little slut over me, Antony?”

“No one thinks you’re lying.” Antony tensed as he saw Thaddeus’ face darkening. Marcus noticed as well and put a quelling hand on the smaller vampire’s shoulder. “You misinterpreted what he was saying, and he freely admits that it was an easy mistake to make.”

“He admits to being a fucking tease, you mean?” Messalina spat.

“Lina, that’s enough!” Thaddeus growled. His fangs were showing, and Antony thought that Daido might not have found his master so boring if he could have seen him just then.

“Oh, I’m terrified,” Messalina leered. “Whatever will you do to me? You obviously weren’t doing much for little Daido. He’s been coming to my bed for over three months!”

Antony’s stomach flopped all the way down to his toes. Oh, no.

He didn’t think Messalina was lying. That would have made his life far too easy. And judging by Thaddeus’ face, he didn’t think so either. Well, this explained why Felix had been so protective of the man’s testimony. Fuck.

“You’ve done yourself no favors, Messalina.” There was the royal voice he’d been striving for. “Per your own confession, I’m going to exact the full penalty for unauthorized sex with someone else’s human. You haven’t left me much choice.”

“You’re going to punish me, and not the little whore who came crawling to throw himself at me?” Her face was stark with its fury, and she was trembling all over. Antony knew better than to think her quivering came from fear of the lash.

“Daido’s punishment is Thaddeus’ concern.” Antony could at least be grateful for that. “Marcus?”

Marcus took his hand from Thaddeus’ shoulder and turned towards Messalina, but before he had even completed the movement Antony knew it was too late. The furious archer had launched herself at him.

Antony barely had time to brace himself before her body slammed into his.

As she always did, Messalina hit hard and fast. Her fist pummeled his side. He heard a sharp snap, and the answering flare of pain told him that it had probably been one of his ribs.

Enough.

Antony dodged her next jab and delivered two rapid strikes to her torso. That caught her off guard, but it was difficult to wind an opponent who didn’t need to breathe. Her knee was flying up towards his groin before he’d even pulled his fists back from her body.

Antony dodged that strike, but doing so destabilized him enough that she was able to sweep his legs out from under him and send him crashing down to the deck. As soon as he hit the wood she was on top of him, but that just put her in his reach. Antony buried his hands in her hair and kept it in a death grip as he rolled them over.

His instinct was to slam her head against the deck a few times, but at the last second he stopped himself. He was straddling her now, his legs pinning her arms, and the others had come to surround them. The fight was over.

“What the fuck was that?” he demanded, staring down into her wild face.

“You want to punish me because Thaddeus’ pet decided to go whoring?” she spat. “Or is it because I tried to step outside my role? Did I forget I’m good for a fuck and nothing else? Do you need to put me back in my place?”

What the hell? Clearly, Antony had stepped into something that went beyond an affair. Did this situation really have to get more overcomplicated?

“You took Thaddeus’ human without his permission and attacked me for no damn reason.” Antony was doing his best to keep his voice level, and he didn’t think he was letting any of his sudden panic leak into his tone. “That’s all you’re being punished for. Now come on, let’s get this over with, all right? Then we’ll talk.”

The anger slowly drained from her face. Even after all these years, Antony found himself surprised to see Messalina with no bluster, no cockiness, no fight in her. He’d forgotten how small and vulnerable she could look.

“Fine,” she said, and it scared him that it was closer to a sigh than a growl. “Do what you have to do.”

Antony rolled off her and extended a hand to help her up. Once she was standing, she jerked her hand back and dragged herself over to the nearest mast, where she shucked off her shirt and braced herself against its solid wood.

Julia had fetched the lash without being asked. From anyone else the gesture would have seemed overeager and ghoulish. From her, it was simply practical. Antony took it and stared down at his archer’s lean, muscled back.

“For the crime of using Thaddeus’ attendant without his permission, I sentence you to twenty lashes,” he said, raising his voice enough to let it carry over the crowd. “For the crime of attacking me, thirty lashes.”

There was no more ceremony than that. He knew his siblings had more elaborate rituals on their own ships, more like the punishments in their father’s court, but Antony preferred not to draw out these disciplinary sessions. If someone wanted him to whip them in bed, he could make a production of it. If it was a genuine punishment, he preferred to get it over with as quickly as possible.

He swung his arm and had to bite back a wince as his newly broken rib protested the movement. Damn, this might hurt me worse than Lina. At least they would both be healed by the next night. He tried to keep his face level as the lash bit into Messalina’s skin. She flinched, but that was all the reaction she gave.

“One,” she said.

“You don’t have to keep count,” Antony said. She should know that- this wasn’t her first time on the wrong end of his whip.

She didn’t say anything else. He brought the lash down again.

“Two,” Messalina counted.

Well, as far as defiance went, this was harmless enough. Antony said no more about it.

She kept her count in a clear, even voice. Other than that, she didn’t make a sound.

“Fifty,” she said as the last blow fell, her voice only a little strained.

Antony dropped his whip to the deck. He could almost hear his mother’s voice in his head, scolding him for not taking better care of his things, but there were more pressing concerns.

“You’re done,” he said. Then he turned to the assembled crowd, “All right, everyone move along. Julia?”

The healer appeared at his side and reached out to help Messalina straighten. The archer shrugged off her hands and stood up on her own, then turned and dropped to one knee at Antony’s feet.

“I thank you for your judgement and discipline, my lord,” she said. “I will not reoffend.”

It wasn’t quite the script that had been used when the king passed judgement back home, but it was similar. Was she trying to shame him, or draw a comparison between him and his father?

No. Her face was just tired and unhappy, not malicious. She didn’t resist when Julia pulled her to her feet. Feeling useless, Antony bent to retrieve her discarded shirt over the screaming objections of his broken rib and trailed after the two women as they headed for Messalina’s room. He passed Thaddeus, who was looking lost and miserable.

“Is there somewhere you wouldn’t mind waiting for a bit?” he suggested.

“I could go to Felix’s rooms, if he’ll have me,” Thaddeus said hesitantly.

“Perfect. I’ll meet you there as soon as we get Lina sorted out,” Antony said, then resumed moving so he wouldn’t fall too far behind. His injury made walking painful, though it was no doubt healing already.

When they reached the hallway, Julia left to get her chest of supplies. Antony took her place, supporting Messalina as they approached her room. He hardly thought she needed help walking. Surely the wounds were already healing? But she seemed to want his arm around her shoulders anyway, so he kept it there.

“So,” he said as soon as Julia was out of earshot, “three months?”

“Unfortunately.” Her tone was caustic, but thankfully she didn’t seem inclined to spew any more vicious insults.

“That sounds like more than an ill-advised tumble or two.”

“I got more invested than I should have.” Messalina stopped walking and sighed. “It’ll be all over the ship soon, so I might as well tell you now. Iovita ended things with me a few hours ago.”

“Oh.” Antony wasn’t quite sure how to respond to that news.

“They were right to do it. I know I’m exhausting, and they were tired of being tired.”

“Still. That makes for a pretty shitty day.” Antony sighed. “Damn, I wish I could buy you a drink. A dozen drinks.”

“It’s the little things you miss.” Messalina rolled her eyes and flashed him a wan smile. “You can lose your magic, your home, your family, your wealth, your soul… but take away alcohol and you turn into a bunch of pissy children.”

“You think we don’t have souls?” Antony blurted, startled.

Messalina shrugged, then winced as the movement tugged her wounds.

“The vampires in the stories didn’t.”

“But we’re not… I mean, we’re not really vampires. They modeled the curse on vampire stories, and we use the word because it’s… easy, and funny, and we got in the habit. But it’s not like we’re actually undead.”

Messalina scoffed. “Does the way we behave seem indicative of souls? I don’t think we lost them in the curse, I think they wore away over time.”

Julia strode back out of her room with her big medical chest under her arm. She looked surprised to see them still lingering in the hallway, but all she said was, “You should go lie down on your stomach.”

Antony helped Messalina to her door, which was opened by her attendant. He was a plump, pleasant-seeming man who looked at her tenderly and asked permission to hold her hand while Julia set to work on her back.

The sight made Antony feel a little better. She might have lost two lovers in one night, but there was still care in Messalina’s life. Anyhow, he’d never known his brash archer to stay down for long.

He, on the other hand, knew he would not be able to break free of the question of souls anytime soon.

Chapter Text

ANTONY’S POV

Antony spent the next hour with Messalina and her attendant, Michio. Michio was pleasant and soft-spoken and seemed to adore his tempestuous master. After half an hour or so she sent him to check in on Felix and Thaddeus and make sure they didn’t mind waiting a little longer for Antony to join them. Once the door shut behind him, Antony looked at his archer.

“So… you’re not quite out of lovers?” he ventured.

Messalina snorted. “Ah yes, there’s still the man who offers his services in exchange for me acting as his bodyguard. That doesn’t exactly make me feel more desirable, idiot.”

“All right, I deserved that.”

After Messalina finally banished Antony so she could get some sleep, he made his way to Felix’s room. His head was still reeling with Messalina’s words.

Lose your soul. No souls. Wore them away.

Could it be true? Was he- was each of them- a soulless monster? Not that he’d ever thought a lot about souls in the flowery priestly sense, but he didn’t think that was how Lina had meant it. Conscience, ethics, unselfishness- were those the things she meant to say they had lost?

Perhaps. He might not remember every detail of his life before the curse, but he knew he wouldn’t have slaughtered humans and liked it. Hell, none of them would. But would it be any better if they had gone on moping and crying about it the way they had done in the beginning? They would still need blood to live, and they would still need to offer the Tacians protection in exchange for that blood, and all the raiders would still be just as dead. It wouldn’t make any difference if the vampires buried their drained bodies and planted roses on the graves and watered them all with their tears. Look at Felix, punishing himself for drinking from the elves. What did it accomplish? He still drank. The elves still languished.

Still, Messalina’s words and her bleak tone and her back laid out obediently and covered in cuts from his whip all niggled like a headache. Antony wished he didn’t have any further obligations and could just go back to his rooms and flop onto his bed. Hell, the sun was probably up already. 

He was tense at the idea of Eiji opening the door when he knocked, but it was Felix who appeared.

“Took you long enough,” he said, but his smile seemed genuine.

“You’re kind and calming like Thad,” Antony said with a shrug. “I’m an asshole like Lina. It seemed right to divide and conquer.”

“You’re not an asshole,” Thaddeus said loyally from within the room.

He was sitting on one of the large, soft chairs that Felix kept by his massive bookshelf. He looked a bit haggard, but he wasn’t sobbing or raging. Antony relaxed a little more.

He crossed to the sitting area. There were only two soft chairs, and he wished that he could drag over one of the hard little stools that rested by the table. Unfortunately, they were bolted down as firmly as everything else. Instead he sat gingerly on the carpet, wincing as his broken rib protested the movement.

Both Felix and Thaddeus looked a little alarmed at that, and Thad half-rose from his own chair.

“Lord Antony, please-” he started.

“Oh, sit down.” Antony waved his hand. “It’s what I get for being late to the party. Anyhow, Hanyu’s overtaken my washroom and my bed. I’m getting used to being politely displaced.”

He regretted the words as soon as they left his mouth. This was not the time to joke about his happy relationship with his attendant. Thaddeus’ face darkened a little.

“Shit,” Antony growled. “See? I’m an asshole. I’m sorry, Thad.”

“It’s all right.” He didn’t look like it actually was. “How’s Lina?”

“She’s all right. You know how tough she is. Don’t tear yourself up worrying for her.”

“She didn’t seem tough today.” Thaddeus gave a low laugh that was as close to bitter as anything Antony had ever heard from him. “Not that I’m terribly observant, obviously.”

“You didn’t see something that people were taking pains to hide from you,” Antony replied. “That’s hardly reason for shame.”

“I’m not upset that I missed the affair,” Thaddeus ground out.

Felix finally alighted in the chair opposite him, sparing an uneasy glance for Antony where he sprawled on the carpet.

“He hid his dissatisfaction just as carefully,” Felix told Thaddeus. “Try not to blame him too much, Thad. They’re raised from babies not to complain to us or talk about their needs.”

Thaddeus nodded and looked even more miserable.

“You’re not…” Antony wasn’t sure how to keep from phrasing this as an order. Ultimately, it wasn’t his decision to make. “You won’t do anything… final?”

“Final?” Thaddeus blinked, then his eyes bulged with understanding. “Wait- you thought I might kill him? Gods, Antony!”

Felix started laughing. It was so incongruous that both of them whipped their heads around to glare at him.

“I’m sorry,” he choked. “But… ‘Gods!’ Really, Thad?”

Antony barked out a laugh as well, and after a moment, so did Thaddeus.

“Oh dear,” he sputtered. “I must have picked it up from Daido. Well, that will be awkward if I say it where he can hear.”

Antony felt a great swell of love for these two quiet, steady men. It was a gift to know them, to sprawl on the floor between them and laugh with them. He should be more like them. Why wasn’t he more like them?

Why on earth is Marcus my second?

The thought flashed, quick and disloyal, before Antony pushed it back. Someone on this ship needed to be harsh and authoritarian, and he’d never been as good at that as he pretended. He needed someone to push him into that role. There weren’t many in his little band who could do that. When he and his siblings had parted ways and their followers had all chosen where to bestow their allegiance, most of the tough-minded people had chosen his brother or sister. Antony had always been the soft one, and he’d attracted the softhearted to his service.

This was proven when Thaddeus finally stopped laughing and grew serious once more.

“I was never going to hurt him, Antony,” he said quietly. “Much less kill him. If he’d told me he wanted Lina, I’d have helped any way I could. I’m just hurt that he didn’t talk to me about it. I had thought… after twelve years, I thought he trusted me at least a little. And of course, having it come out the way it did was humiliating.”

“You shouldn’t feel humiliated.” Felix’s voice was fierce. “You offered in front of everyone to take a lashing to give Daido a choice about his life. You’re an example for all of us.”

You both are. Antony was getting dangerously sentimental. It reminded him of the way he used to be when he was drunk, hugging everyone and sobbing helpless tears of love into their shoulders. But he couldn’t help it when they were so fucking kind. He felt as if now that Messalina had brought up the idea of souls and kindness, he was seeing them everywhere except in himself.

He wasn’t as bad as Marcus or plenty of the others, especially when one took his siblings’ crews into consideration, but he didn’t think that was enough to qualify him as ‘kind.’ Theodora was kind, in her fearsome defense of Kenta and her gentleness with old Chujiro and the way she valued and respected each of her offerings- hell, in the way she’d taken care of Antony himself through his dark times. Felix was unrelentingly kind to every damn human on the ship. Thaddeus was kind in such a quiet, self-effacing way that it was easy to overlook. Others, too, maybe not the way they had once been, but-

“I should go back to our rooms,” Thaddeus said, looking as frightened as if he were suggesting walking into the jaws of a sea serpent. “He’ll have worked himself into a fright by now, and I’ve hidden long enough.”

Messalina might have been right about herself, and Antony too. But looking at Thaddeus’ bland, nervous face, Antony was sure that they had no one to blame but themselves.

Some of the others still had their souls.

HANYU’S POV

Hanyu found it hard to settle into a deep sleep without Antony there.

He’d grown used to the god’s presence, he supposed, whether in the bed above him or rattling about in the sitting room. The place felt quiet and lonely without him, and Hanyu could only doze fitfully. He woke immediately when the door opened, even though Antony was clearly taking pains to be quiet.

“You’re back!” Hanyu kicked free of his blankets and scrambled to greet his master. He liked feeling free to grin up at him before ducking into his bow.

“I’m sorry I woke you,” Lord Antony said. He sounded tired, and though Hanyu didn’t have permission to do it he straightened to his knees and peered up at the god.

“You didn’t really wake me, my lord,” Hanyu said. “Anyhow, I’m glad to see you. I missed you.”

Antony sighed. “You’re probably the only one who’s been glad to see me all night.”

The god crossed to the sofa and flopped down on it. Hanyu hesitated, but then crawled over and sprawled at his feet, leaning back against his knees the way he did when Antony arranged his hair. His heart was pounding hard at his own daring, but his desire to chase the physical contact was too powerful to resist.

Lord Antony didn’t seem bothered by his presumption. He just kept talking.

“I’m sure you heard what Julia said about the fight.”

“Yes, I did.” Hanyu felt himself flush. “I’m sorry for eavesdropping.”

“It’s not eavesdropping if we discuss it in front of you.” Antony’s hand settled absently on Hanyu’s head and began gently stroking his hair. Hanyu worked to hold himself still so the god wouldn’t realize what he was doing and stop. “Well, so you know Thaddeus and Messalina fought.”

Hanyu knew a fair bit about Lord Messalina. She was supposed to be a warrior god, quick and lovely and lethal as a lightning bolt. As for Lord Thaddeus… well, he knew the name, anyway. Had he designed the city’s aqueduct or had that been a different god? Hanyu felt as if he had something to do with water or fish. He wished he’d paid better attention in his classes.

“It turned out that Messalina had been sleeping with Thad’s attendant behind his back, so I had to whip her,” Antony went on.

“Oh.” The thought drew Hanyu up short. He supposed he’d assumed after the events of yesterday that Lord Antony… what, never gave punishments? Was incapable? Too kind, too soft?

That was a ridiculous thing to think. The god had been kind to him, yes, but Hanyu had centuries of hymns and stories and his own memory of bloody fingernails to show just how fearsome he could be.

“You’re frightened.” It was a statement, not a question. “I didn’t mean to frighten you.”

“I’m not frightened exactly, my lord. I’m just… well, it makes me even more grateful for your mercy yesterday.”

Antony snorted. “Well, you didn’t jump on me and try to punch my organs into a pancake.”

Hanyu jerked his head around to gawk up at him. “What?”

“Lina didn’t take well to… well, anything,” Antony said. “She decided to deal with her frustration by attacking me. Rather unfair, in my opinion.”

“Shit, Antony!” Hanyu was remembering every story he’d heard of Lord Messalina’s ferocity. He started looking the god over for signs of injury. “Are you all right?”

“Oh, don’t fuss.” Antony scowled and waved a hand, but Hanyu though he sounded the tiniest bit pleased to be worried over. “She broke one of my ribs, but it’s mostly better now. I pinned her before she could get in too many blows.”

“A broken rib?” Hanyu yelped.

“I’m fine, Hanyu,” the god assured him. “Really. We made up afterwards. She’d had a really terrible day.”

“Why do all the gods deal with their bad days by hitting you?” Hanyu groused.

Lord Antony burst out laughing, even more broken and wheezing than usual.

“Oh no!” he gasped. “You’re right! Oh, dear! It hurts to laugh!”

“Sorry!” Hanyu wasn’t sure whether he was more repentant or indignant. Much as he loved to hear his master’s laughter, he didn’t find the situation terribly funny. “But Antony, I really think you should get them a punching dummy.”

“But then why would they keep me around?” Antony wheezed. “Anyhow, don’t sell me short. I make a perfectly good punching dummy. At least take a swing at me yourself before you start trying to replace me.”

Then he was laughing again in great pained gasps. Hanyu could see that he wouldn’t have much success getting his master to take the subject seriously, so he sighed and swiveled on his ass so that he was resting his hands on the god’s knees and looking up at him.

“I don’t want to hit you,” he said. “I think there’s been enough of that. Is there anything I could do to help you relax instead?”

Lord Antony sobered at once. His eyes flicked down to Hanyu’s, sharp and annoyed. Hanyu realized how his question had sounded, especially given his current position, and flushed.

“Oh! I only meant…” Think, Hanyu! “I could read to you?”

“I see.” The god’s gaze softened. “That sounds wonderful, actually. But are you sure you don’t need to get some sleep?”

“I just got up!” Hanyu pointed out. “It’s only been a few hours. I went to bed out of boredom.”

“Right.” Antony sounded a little dazed. “It has only been a few hours, hasn’t it? Damn. Well, then. Choose any book you like. And put on some clothes, will you?”

Hanyu had forgotten he was naked. No wonder his master had thought he was trying to seduce him. Not that that sounded like a bad way to relax Antony either…

Fighting down the thought, Hanyu got to his feet and padded into the bedroom. He deliberated for a while before choosing a book, then wound his blanket around himself and returned to the sitting room.

Lord Antony was sprawled inelegantly over the sofa. He’d removed his boots and unbuttoned his top so that it gaped open over his undershirt. He looked wonderfully relaxed. At the sound of Hanyu’s footsteps, he lolled his head back and cracked one silver eye open.

“That’s clothes?” he asked.

Hanyu shrugged. “Sure. It’s not that different from a robe, is it?”

Antony groaned, but he sat up and patted the cushion next to him, so Hanyu figured he’d come close enough to obeying. He sat where the god indicated, then stiffened in shock when Lord Antony leaned back into his sprawl and settled his head on Hanyu’s thigh.

“Go ahead,” he said, seemingly unaware of Hanyu’s sudden petrification.

Hanyu opened the book and tried his best, but his eyes couldn’t quite focus on the words in front of his face. He opened his mouth, but all that came out was a formless croak.

The god peered up at Hanyu. “Are you all right?”

If Hanyu didn’t pull himself together, he would lose this chance.

“Dry throat,” he lied, coughing a few times to make his point.

To his dismay, Antony insisted on getting up and bringing him water. But once his master was satisfied that Hanyu had drunk enough, he settled back into the same spot. Now that Hanyu was anticipating the move, he was better able to deal with it. He started reading with only the slightest bit of tension in his voice.

“Hands so small, to hold the whole of me-”

Antony hummed approvingly. “The Poems of Masaya? Good choice.”

“Really?” Hanyu looked away from the page. “I thought you’d be fussing at me because they’re love poems.”

“Why would I have a book I didn’t like? I don’t keep things I don’t want.”

Pleasure welled in Hanyu’s belly, though he didn’t think the words had been meant as a compliment for him.

“Anyhow, Masaya’s poems aren’t just romantic. They’re wickedly funny,” Antony went on.

“Funny?” Hanyu felt almost scandalized at the notion. He’d never heard anyone use that word in connection with the ancient master poet.

“Oh yes, in her own sly manner.” Antony smiled distantly. “She was a nightmare at state affairs. She had a way of insulting you in such a way that it took you a day or two to realize what had happened.”

“You knew Masaya?” Hanyu goggled down at his master. “You knew Masaya?”

“Not as well as I would have liked, but yes. That was back when we used to do a good bit more circulating at your king’s court during our visits than we do now.”

He’s not my king anymore. Hanyu barely managed to bite back the words. At least until he was replaced, he didn’t even want the implication that he might belong to anyone but Antony. The day would come soon enough on its own.

“She might not have been a particularly high-ranking noblewoman, but she had enough standing that our paths crossed,” the god continued. “Well, her path crossed with Theodora. Some of her first poems were for Theo, as it happens.”

Hanyu could picture Lord Theodora inspiring many kinds of poetry. Hero tales, war ballads, hymns by the dozen. But love poems? Love poems from the great Masaya?

“Goodness, Masaya was just a baby that first time- maybe fifteen? But she was still bold enough to confess her feelings and hand over the poems. Theo was gentle about letting her down and praised her poems. She only said it to be kind, at the time. The poems were absolute shit. But when we came back six years later she was still at it, showering poetry on her new ladylove. Another six years and the poems were actually getting good. By the time she was seventy, she was writing masterpieces. She even settled a bet between me and Iovita.”

“What kind of bet?”

“It’s embarrassing to say.” Antony laughed and put a hand over his face, but went on. “I used to be a terrible snob about the Tacian language. I thought it was too blunt and clumsy to produce great literature. Iovita has a passion for words and languages, and they said that I was full of shit. They bet that a Tacian writer would prove me wrong one day and I was fool enough to take them up on it.”

“Why was it foolish?” Hanyu asked.

“In the first place, because when I finally bothered to put some effort into understanding Tacian I found dozens of undeniable masterpieces from even before we arrived. In the second place, because bets with Iovita are always foolish. They like to bet very embarrassing public spectacles. This particular instance involved a bucket of oil and an enormous fish and that’s all you’re ever going to know about it.”

Hanyu fully intended to be insufferable until he got the whole story. He set the book aside and got ready to wheedle.

“What are you doing?” Antony demanded. “Don’t you want to read anymore?”

“I- Well, you heard Masaya herself reading her poems! It would be too embarrassing for me to try. You’d laugh at the comparison.”

It wasn’t just the words he was suddenly shy of, it was his listener. Hanyu felt as if this was the first time he’d really understood how old the god was. He’d known that Antony was immortal, of course, but it had never really sunk into his mind that he had been… active that entire time. After so many centuries of doing things and meeting people, why in the world did he want to spend time with Hanyu? Hanyu had never done anything. He must seem so dull and insignificant compared to all the poets and kings and heroes and gods that Antony had known. Why did his master bother with him at all?

“I would not laugh at you.” Antony raised an eyebrow at him, breaking him out of his awestruck thoughts. “She might have been a great poet, but Masaya was a shit reader. She used to get embarrassed and mumble her way through all the flowery or scandalous bits even when she was far too old for such coyness.”

That was even harder to imagine than Masaya as a sly courtier or a lovestruck teenager clutching a sheaf of bad poetry. Her poems were a pleasure to read aloud. The meters and alliterations flowed so gorgeously that it was like a verbal dance. How could the poet herself fail to appreciate that joy?

“Come now, Hanyu.” Why was his master coaxing rather than commanding? “I’ve been looking forward to hearing you read.”

“Of course, if that’s your wish.” Hanyu retrieved the book. He still felt a little shy, but as the god had said himself- he didn’t keep things he didn’t like.

Antony settled back against his thigh, eyes closed and mouth curving into a faint, contented smile. Hanyu felt his heart warming at the sight and had to work to turn his eyes onto the page.

“Hands so small, to hold the whole of me-”

Chapter Text

ANTONY’S POV

The boy really was an excellent reader, Antony thought.

He was clear and expressive. He wasn’t too shy to let his voice rise and tighten with passion when the verses called for it, but he didn’t over-emote, either. He let the words speak for themselves.

He also had a way of slowing down over certain lines as if he were turning each word over in his mouth and tasting it. At those moments, his voice dropped to a lilting husk, lower than his usual speaking voice, and Antony would find himself maddeningly distracted by the way Hanyu licked over the syllables. He would have thought the boy was trying to seduce him again if it hadn’t been for Hanyu’s total, rapt attention to the book.

He loved these poems, Antony realized. Hanyu hadn’t struck him as much of a reader. Antony had never seen him pick up a book to read to himself. But apparently, he’d been wrong about the boy. No one could read like this if they didn’t love words for their own sake.

He really ought to introduce Hanyu to Iovita sometime…

Antony was broken from that train of thought by a knock on the door. Hanyu seemed startled as well, judging from the way he dropped the book right onto Antony’s face.

Antony yelped, more in surprise than pain (though the corner was sharp and had caught him right on the nose), and Hanyu’s witchy reading voice turned back into his own ordinary excited chatter.

“Oh gods- sorry, Antony! Are you all right? Shit. Sorry!”

He sounded almost as much amused as panicked. Damn brat. If he’d done this during their first week together he’d have been abasing himself on the floor at Antony’s feet and begging his forgiveness right now, not trying to choke back a laugh.

And Antony definitely wouldn’t have been trying to swallow down a laugh of his own.

“Just get the door, will you?” he said, pulling himself up to a sitting position and setting the book carefully aside before reaching up to rub at his sore nose.

Hanyu scrambled to the door, pulling his blanket more tightly around himself. Right… perhaps Antony should have answered the door himself and allowed Hanyu to scamper into his closet to get changed. Well, this was what the brat got for considering a blanket to be ‘clothes.’

Hanyu opened the door and gave an alarmed squeak that brought Antony to his feet before he had even fully processed the little noise.

“My lord!” Hanyu gasped, and then he was dropping into his bow and Antony could see who was on the other side of the door.

Marcus.

“Hello, Annie.” His lover waved, then glanced down at the prostrate boy. Hanyu hadn’t moved aside before kneeling and now he was blocking the entrance. “Is this your subtle way of barring the door against me, or is he serving as a welcome mat?”

“Come here, Hanyu,” Antony said. “Let him in.”

“Sorry, my lord.” The boy got to his feet and shuffled aside to let Marcus pass. Antony could now see Asao at his lover’s heels, head bowed too deeply for Antony to see his face and check for pallor or bruises.

Once he'd shut the door behind himself, the vampire regarded Hanyu in his blanket and turned to Antony with his eyebrow raised.

“You can’t possibly still expect me to believe that you’re not using him,” he said, gesturing to the flimsy covering.

Hanyu flushed but didn’t otherwise react. He squeezed past Marcus and Asao with a deep bow and knelt by Antony’s feet in a perfect waiting pose, still wrapped in his ridiculous blanket.

Marcus followed him and settled on the sofa next to Antony. Asao knelt by his master, only an arm’s reach from Hanyu. Antony could see Hanyu peeking at his friend, clearly dying to exchange some kind of greeting, but Asao kept his head respectfully bowed and didn’t even glance up at Hanyu. He was behaving perfectly, but to his own surprise Antony found himself feeling a bit offended on his offering’s behalf.

Marcus was looking down too, with open interest, and not at his own boy. Antony was suddenly very aware of how seductively vulnerable Hanyu appeared in his makeshift garb. The blanket was knotted over one shoulder, baring the other shoulder as well as a wide expanse of chest and collarbone, and the knot was big and loose and could be undone with a single quick tug, sending the fabric sliding down his body in an unveiling more erotic than plain nudity would have been…

Antony felt a powerful urge to send Hanyu to get dressed, but that would be a foolish move with Marcus here. Instead, he would need to draw that sharp attention to himself.

“To what do I owe the pleasure?” he asked. He was gratified to see his lover’s gaze lift to meet his.

“I wanted to check on you after all that madness on deck,” Marcus replied. “That punch looked like it hurt. Did Julia take a look?”

“Briefly.” Antony shrugged. “It’s a broken rib, as I’d already guessed from the snapping sound. She said it should be healed by tomorrow night at the latest. I think it’s already mostly better.”

Marcus hissed sympathetically. “Still, those hurt like a bitch. Lina really went for you, didn’t she?”

“I can handle it.” No one knew better than Marcus what he could handle. “Still, I’m glad it’s all behind us now.”

Marcus hummed in agreement. “Poor old Thad. I can’t say I’m terribly surprised, though. There’s not much there to tempt even a human.”

“Thad’s a good man.” Better than either of us. “Daido’s lucky to have him.”

“I don’t know if I’d use the word ‘lucky’ after all this.” Marcus shrugged. “Or ‘alive.’”

Antony was peripherally aware of Hanyu stiffening at the words. He had to fight to keep his gaze on Marcus and his hand from drifting to give the boy a comforting squeeze of his shoulder or stroke of his hair.

“Thad’s not going to kill him,” he said firmly. “He doesn’t even seem very angry, just sad. He said he didn’t plan to hurt him.”

“Not even as a punishment?” Marcus demanded.

“I think he just wanted to talk about things,” Antony replied.

Marcus groaned. “For fuck’s sake! Well, I guess we can expect another fight when the damn creature goes crawling after another of us in a few months, then.”

“You really think he wants to put himself through all that again?” Antony asked.

“He won’t be able to help himself. Hell, it’s probably why he sought Lina out in the first place. They need to be dominated, shown their place. We both know Thad wouldn’t be much good at fulfilling that need. He still has to learn that he can’t let humans push him around like Julia and Cloelia do. The poor thing was probably hoping he would be caught and Thad would finally start behaving like a real master.”

Hanyu’s efforts to catch Asao’s attention had grown bolder and more noticeable. He was twitching his fingers in little waves and lifting his head to dart looks at his friend so rapidly that it was starting to look like a little dance. Antony nudged him gently with his foot, and Hanyu settled back into his kneel without even glancing up at him.

“That seems overly elaborate,” Antony argued, hoping to keep Marcus’ attention on himself. “Maybe he just likes women, or he was bored and needed something different. That doesn’t mean he wanted to be punished.”

Marcus rolled his eyes. “You’re still so naïve, Annie. Come and tell me all your deep insights about human behavior once you’ve looked at one of them for longer than it takes to have your supper.”

“What are you talking about?” Antony snapped, though he had an uncomfortable suspicion that he knew already, and that his lover wasn’t wrong.

“This boy may have caught your eye, but how long was your last one dragging himself about with a long face without you even noticing? I may be rough with my offerings, but I don’t kill them with neglect the way you do.”

That stung, mostly because he knew it was justified. It was even harder now to keep from reaching for Hanyu, this time to comfort himself rather than his offering.

Soulless.

“I suppose I’m being too hard on you,” Marcus said after a moment’s silence. “You do seem to have mended your ways with this one. He’s not as pretty as mine, but I do see the appeal, especially if he walks around half-naked like this all the time.”

“For goodness’ sake, Marcus.” Antony forced his face into neutrality and rolled his eyes. “Is your upper brain even a part of this conversation?”

“I can’t help it. My lover has been neglecting me sorely this month.” Marcus’ arm crept around Antony’s shoulder and his voice dropped seductively.

Antony was pleased with this change in direction. He realized he had gotten rather worked up over the last hour of reading. Anyhow, he hadn’t had partnered sex since their misunderstanding two weeks ago. It would be nice to scratch that itch. It would be time for Hanyu and Asao to go exercise soon. They would have the place to themselves, he could find out exactly what Marcus meant by ‘thanking’ him… yes, the night was definitely looking up. He tilted his head up to catch his lover’s eye.

Marcus’ gaze was still fixed on Hanyu.

That chilled the lazy heat that had been working its way through Antony’s body. Marcus had never taken an interest in one of his offerings before. Why now? Why Hanyu?

“Are you trying to seduce me by complimenting and ogling my attendant?” Antony reached up and tilted Marcus’ chin towards himself, breaking his lover’s intense gaze. “If those are the kinds of strategies you’re using for battles, I might need to find myself a new war chief.”

Marcus laughed, and Antony relaxed a little. “All right, all right. I’m sorry. But can you blame me for being interested? This is the pretty little thing that broke a streak of… six hundred years?”

Seven, actually. Not that any kind of streak had been broken.

“I am not bedding him,” Antony snapped. “For goodness’ sake, why would I lie about that?”

“I don’t know. Why, Annie?”

Unbelievable. “What is this about? Are you jealous? Because if I recall correctly, our raid turned into a damn orgy and that didn’t seem to bother you.”

“Oh, I’m not jealous or bothered.” Marcus nuzzled closer. “Just curious. It makes me wonder what secret skills he’s hiding behind that idiotic façade. I think you’re holding out on me, Annie.”

“Even if I was fucking him- which I am not- how would I be holding out on you? He’s mine! You’re not holding out on me because I don’t use your atten… dant.”

The last word faltered on Antony’s tongue as he realized he’d just walked right into a trap.

Sure enough, Marcus’ smile was easy and lazy and not the least bit surprised. Damn it. He had gotten so rusty. If he’d been this careless in his father’s court, he would have been eaten alive.

“Darling,” Marcus purred, “all you have to do is ask. Surely you know that?”

Dammit.

“I’d be more than happy to share,” Marcus went on. “You’re my lover. Your happiness is all that matters.”

Fuck.

“I don’t-” Now he was stammering as badly as a nervous Hanyu. “I didn’t mean-”

“Really, it’s my pleasure. Asao-”

“No!” Antony shouldn’t snap. He was letting Marcus know he’d gotten to him- though considering his earlier stammering, that was probably a foregone conclusion at this point. “I’m not making some kind of trade, Marcus.”

“Who said anything about a trade?”

“I- listen, I’m not bedding my attendant and I don’t want to bed yours.”

“Who said anything about the bed?” Marcus raised an eyebrow. “Asao will be happy to serve you right here.”

“I didn’t mean-”

“Asao,” Marcus interrupted, “Lord Antony seems to be in need of some persuasion.”

Asao spoke for the first time since their arrival. Antony had forgotten how slow and sweet his voice was.

“Yes, my lord.” He bowed his head to Marcus, then shuffled forward on his knees until he could bend forward and make his full bow over Antony’s feet. He was almost in Hanyu’s lap, but he didn’t even seem to notice the other boy.

Hanyu, on the other hand, was obviously aware of Asao. Quiveringly, painfully aware. He wasn’t even trying to keep position anymore. His hands no longer rested loosely on his lap, they were fisted in the fabric of his blanket as his friend went on speaking, his warm breath ghosting over Antony’s bare skin.

“Please use this unworthy body to satisfy yourself, my lord. It would be an honor to be of service to you. I-”

“That isn’t necessary, Asao.” Antony tried to keep the tone of his interruption as gentle as possible. The boy fell silent, but began softly licking at the tops of Antony’s feet. The wet heat of his tongue was distracting, but not enough to make Antony’s voice waver as he went on speaking. “Asao. Get up. This is not going to happen.”

The boy knelt up. His face was aflame- from the shame of being ordered to beg before his friend, or from being rejected? Either way, Antony felt very much like cuffing Marcus upside the head.

“Oh dear, Asao.” Marcus’ voice was as slow and sweet as his offering’s. “You seem to be in danger of failing to carry out my orders. You’d better keep begging and hope Lord Antony takes pity and uses you so you can avoid a punishment.”

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

The boy looked up at Antony, his face anguished and his lips trembling just the tiniest bit. Antony felt the trap close around him with an almost audible snap.

“Please, my lord,” the boy begged. “I’ve been well trained. I’ll make it good for you, I promise. I’ll let you do anything you want. I’ll be good.”

He extended a shaking hand towards Antony’s crotch. Antony reached forward too, with exaggerated slowness to make sure that when he stopped the boy’s hand, it would be gentle.

He didn’t know whether he was going to refuse Asao. He didn’t know whether he could. He cursed himself for ever letting Marcus see that he cared what happened to the boy. He should have known it would end up like this. He just needed a moment to get his thoughts in order. He needed one more second without Asao’s hands on him.

But before he could catch Asao’s hand, Hanyu did it for him.

“Please don’t use him, my lord.” Hanyu looked up at Antony, his face all innocent pleading. “I was trained too. Take your pleasure from me. I want to be the one to serve you… Antony.”

There was the tiniest hesitation before he said Antony’s name, the smallest determined flicker in his eye, the littlest hint of cunning. Gratitude and irritation rushed through Antony in equal measures.

You brilliant, gorgeous, horrible brat.

Chapter Text

HANYU’S POV

Everything had been going so well until Lord Marcus and Asao arrived.

Antony must have liked his reading. He hadn’t been shy about stopping Hanyu from playing music when that had gone poorly, so Hanyu had no reason to worry that his little, pleased smile was feigned. He’d lost himself in the pleasure of the reading and of Antony’s head resting warm and solid on his thigh. Even dropping the book on him had been rather funny, though Hanyu never would have done it on purpose. The god had looked so startled and indignant that it had been hard to keep from laughing. Hanyu had all but skipped to the door. He’d expected it to be Eiji with his breakfast, but even the prospect of seeing stupid perfect Eiji wasn’t enough to dim his mood.

Seeing Lord Marcus and Asao had been a shock. Hanyu had never been so close to the war god before, and it took only a quick peek to confirm that he was just as terrifying as the stories suggested. He was tall and enormously muscled, and he stood with his legs spread and his hands on his hips, which made him seem even larger. Hanyu caught a glimpse of a broad jaw and surprisingly large, dark eyes before he dropped into his bow.

After that, everything just got worse. Hanyu was stupid and blocked the god’s way, and he was still wearing the damn blanket, and Asao wouldn’t acknowledge him with so much as a glance, even now as they knelt with their masters talking to each other and unlikely to spare them a glance.

Most galling of all was having to listen to his master insist over and over again that he wasn’t bedding him. He hated that he was causing a fight between Antony and his lover. He hated that Asao was hearing the god reiterate his inadequacy. He hated the vehemence of Antony’s denials, as if using Hanyu would have been something too embarrassing to admit.

Then Lord Marcus started tossing hints that he would like to try Hanyu out himself, and his stomach plummeted even further down into his gut. He didn’t want to believe that Antony would permit it, but that was an impermissibly bad attitude. If it pleased his master to share him, then it would be his honor to obey. After all, this was the god’s lover. Why would Lord Antony refuse him any pleasure? Hanyu would just have to give it his all and hope that it wouldn’t be too bad and Antony wouldn't let Lord Marcus be too rough and perhaps, if he managed to behave himself and put on a good show and got very lucky, his own master might be moved to use him as well. He would-

“No!” His god’s voice was sharp enough to cut right through Hanyu’s frightened thoughts. “I’m not making some kind of a trade, Marcus.”

Relief, pure and cool and wonderful.

Oh gods. Thank you, Antony. He wished he could press himself against his master’s leg and feel his cold, slim fingers in his hair.

Hanyu thought that refusal would be the end of it, but it wasn’t. He listened to the conversation with mounting horror, and then before he knew it Asao was practically elbowing him out of the way to crawl all over Antony. His friend’s voice as he begged was perfectly soft and submissive and it had a breathy sweetness to it that Hanyu would never be able to replicate, not if he practiced for a hundred years.

Oh no.

It was the nightmare Hanyu hadn’t even known he had.

Maybe Antony wasn’t willing to trade Hanyu for Asao, but when the loveliest, most capable human on the whole ship was being freely offered to him? There was no way he was going to refuse. And Hanyu was going to have to stay right here, practically having his face rubbed in their coupling, and pretend he wasn’t falling apart with longing to take Asao’s place.

Hanyu knelt and watched in misery as his friend licked daringly at the tops of the god’s feet. He’d kissed his master’s feet once, but he’d been crying joyously at the time and there had probably been more snot than seduction in the gesture. Why had he ever thought he could compete with the other offerings?

“Asao,” Lord Antony said, and his voice was so gentle that Hanyu was grateful in the midst of his unhappiness. He doubted that Asao got much gentleness from his own master. He deserved to be spoken to so tenderly. “That isn’t necessary. Get up. This is not going to happen.”

For a second time, Antony’s voice cut right through Hanyu’s thoughts.

He dared a glance up at his master. Antony looked grim and completely unmoved by Asao’s display of beauty and willing submission. Hanyu should have been dismayed that not even Asao could tempt the god, but instead he was simply, purely grateful.

Until Lord Marcus spoke again.

“Oh dear, Asao. You seem to be in danger of failing to carry out my orders. You’d better keep begging and hope Lord Antony takes pity and uses you so you can avoid a punishment.”

It was impossible to miss the terror that sparked in Asao’s eyes at the mention of punishment. His friend looked desperate, and there was real supplication in his voice as he resumed pleading with Lord Antony. Clearly, Lord Marcus’ punishments were a thing to be greatly dreaded.

Antony seemed to guess this as well. Hanyu was astonished to see the tiniest flash of helpless panic flicker over his master’s face.

“Please, my lord,” Asao begged. “I’ve been well trained. I’ll make it good for you, I promise. I’ll let you do anything you want. I’ll be good.”

Hanyu was almost certain that Antony did not want to use Asao. But more than that, the god did not want Asao to be punished. He was too kind for that. Of course he was. He hadn’t punished Hanyu for a single thing in almost a month of one mistake after another.

Punished me…

An idea occurred to Hanyu, but the boldness of it set his heart thudding painfully in his throat. If he were wrong about his master’s desire to turn Asao down, this would be a horribly dangerous mistake. But if he was right…

Asao, in desperation, was reaching for Antony’s crotch. Hanyu grabbed his friend’s hand and stopped it a few inches from its goal.

“Please don’t use him, my lord.” He stared up at his master, painfully aware of Asao and Lord Marcus’ shocked gazes fixed on him. He was Antony’s. Nothing mattered but Antony. He went on, letting all his real, aching desire quiver in his voice. “I trained too. Take your pleasure from me. I want to be the one to serve you…” he breathed deeply, then plunged ahead, “… Antony.”

It had been a while since his god’s name felt so dangerous on his lips. But however pure his intentions, this was deliberate disobedience to Antony’s command that Hanyu never show such familiarity in the presence of others. He might have been pursuing the punishment that would follow, but that didn’t mean he would deserve it any less.

Asao gasped loudly, his wrist still imprisoned in Hanyu’s grip. Lord Marcus let out a startled, barking laugh. But Hanyu didn’t so much as glance at either of them. He kept his gaze fixed on his god, silently pleading for Antony’s understanding.

There was no answering gleam in his master’s eyes. Antony glared down at him, looking cold and remote as the most distant wave.

“What did you just call me?” he asked.

Hanyu let go of Asao’s wrist to press himself against the floor. His desire hadn’t been feigned and now, neither was his fear.

He’d guessed wrong.

“Please forgive me, my lord,” he wavered. “I intended no disrespect. I-”

“You thought I would be intrigued by your boldness?” Antony interrupted. “You thought I would be unwilling to punish you with a guest present? Out of my way, Asao. I have a lesson to teach.”

There was some shuffling as Asao obeyed, then there were chilly hands on Hanyu’s shoulders hauling him to his feet. He rose obediently but kept his eyes fixed on the floor. Lord Antony kept his grip on his shoulders, so Hanyu was forced to remain in an awkward hunch as his master turned him around and marched him away from the sofa. He caught a glimpse of Asao kneeling wide-eyed beside his own master, who was smiling in a way that sent a shiver crawling down Hanyu’s spine.

Lord Antony hustled Hanyu over to the table and let go of his shoulders. Hanyu didn’t dare to straighten and put himself up out of the god’s reach.

“Take off that ridiculous blanket,” Lord Antony snapped.

“Y-yes, my lord,” Hanyu managed to say through the trembling of his lips.

His fingers were trembling just as severely, which made it difficult to obey, but he finally succeeded in undoing the hasty knot. The blanket dropped from his shoulder and lay in a heap around his feet. He shivered as the cold air found his skin.

Lord Antony kicked the blanket away, then seized Hanyu again and pushed him down so that his face and shoulders were pressed into the wood of the table. He felt agonizingly, unbearably vulnerable.

Still, he had been trained for this. He quickly arranged himself in the standard discipline position, spreading his legs and raising his ass higher, making himself open and available for his punishment.

“Is the table digging into you?” the god asked, surprising him with his solicitousness. “Do you think it could cut off circulation?”

“N-no, my lord,” Hanyu replied.

“Good. Don’t move.” His master’s voice hadn’t warmed by so much as a single degree. “Marcus, watch that he obeys. I have to get my cane.”

Oh no. Hanyu had hoped his master would just use his hand. Still, as implements went he preferred a cane over a strap or paddle. There was less bruising afterwards.

“With pleasure,” the war god drawled. Hanyu shivered again.

“Keep your hands off,” Lord Antony said sharply. “This is punishment, not pleasure.”

Gratitude swelled in Hanyu alongside his fear. His master was angry, but he was still protecting him. He could come back from this mistake.

“Asao, go to the other side of the table and make sure he doesn’t move his head or hands,” Lord Marcus ordered. “I’ll watch from the back.”

The time stretched excruciatingly after Lord Antony’s footsteps moved away from Hanyu. He tried to breathe deeply and hold himself still, but his mind was buzzing wildly over everything that had just happened. What had he missed? He was still sure that Lord Antony hadn’t wanted to use Asao. Would the god have done it anyway to spare Asao from punishment? If he hadn’t… well, that wouldn’t change anything. Hanyu would happily take a caning to help Asao out of a punishment. His friend had gotten him out of plenty of discipline over the years.

Anyhow, he had a suspicion that Lord Antony’s punishments were much to be preferred over Lord Marcus’.

“All right.” Lord Antony sounded almost bored as he returned. Hanyu couldn’t resist a twitch in his direction. Dammit. “Did he move?”

“Asao?” Lord Marcus prompted.

“Three times, my lord,” Asao said reluctantly.

Three? When had been the other two? Why couldn’t he ever learn to hold still?

“That’s three additional strikes, Hanyu,” Lord Antony said.

He didn’t even sound disappointed. Hanyu would have thought that disappointing his master would be the worst feeling, but it didn’t compare to the discovery that the god hadn’t even expected him to obey.

“With the addition, your punishment is thirteen strokes on the ass and upper thighs. Ten for your breach of respect, one for each additional disobedience.”

Lord Marcus scoffed noisily. “That’s barely a warmup.”

“Not under my cane, as you know,” Lord Antony replied. “Anyhow, I’m not interested in damaging him so badly that I can’t eat today. Hanyu, I want you to count off the strokes and thank me for each one. You know the routine.”

He did, though not from any experience with the god. He hoped there would be no surprises.

“Yes, my lord,” he squeaked.

“Good. Then I’m going to begin.”

“Why warn him?” Lord Marcus demanded. “It’s more effective if they don’t know what’s going to happen or when. You’ve spelled everything out so plainly he could do it himself.”

“If he doesn’t know when the punishment starts, how will he know when it’s over?” Lord Antony replied. “You didn’t complain when I told Lina her sentence first. Now shut up, will you? Get ready, Hanyu.”

Hanyu was no stranger to the cane or paddle. All the offerings were intimately acquainted with both implements, he more than most. But it had been over a month since he’d felt the touch of one, and despite all his master’s warnings he found himself startled by the impact of the first strike. Unlike with a paddle, there was no loud smacking sound to drown out his yelp.

Lord Marcus scoffed, and Hanyu could almost hear the sigh Asao must have swallowed.

“One, thank you my lord!” he babbled, hoping to avoid a scolding on top of his punishment. He was much too old to be squawking at the first hint of discipline.

Lord Antony said nothing, but the next strike was softer. Hanyu didn’t know whether to be disgusted with himself for making his master think he couldn’t handle a proper punishment or grateful to Antony for his unwillingness to inflict more than he thought his stupid offering could handle.

In fact, Lord Antony was extremely careful in every respect. His strokes stung, but they were never unbearable or overlapping. He kept such a steady, rhythmic pace that Hanyu unexpectedly found himself relaxing into it. He always had time to breathe, give his count, and prepare himself before the next stroke fell.

He forgot Lord Marcus and Asao. He dissolved into the certainty of the next stroke and the obvious care that would go into it. He felt utterly open, utterly submissive, utterly Antony’s. Tears dripped onto the table and puddled under his cheek, but he was no longer simply miserable. He was… he didn’t know what he was. It wasn’t a mindset that was much good for reasoning things through.

They had only made it to eight when they were interrupted by a knock on the door.

“That will be breakfast.” Lord Antony set the cane down on the table next to Hanyu’s head, making him jump a little. “Go get dressed. I want you to take your breakfast in the kitchen today and go directly from there to your workout abovedeck. You’re excused from the heavier exercises today, but I want your blood flowing when I drink from you. We’ll finish this punishment then.”

“Yes, my lord.” Hanyu stayed doubled over the table. He should have been glad for the break in his discipline, but with the pain subsiding he was quickly becoming aware of a new problem.

“Asao, you should go with him,” Lord Marcus said. “I think Annie and I are due some time to ourselves.”

Asao’s murmur of assent was drowned out by Lord Antony’s irritated voice. “Well, go on, boy. Don’t keep the fellow at the door waiting.”

“Yes, my lord. Thank you.” Hanyu peeled himself off the table and fled for the closet where his clothes were stored, half-hunched, face flaming, and with his hands clasped over his crotch.

Lord Marcus’ bellow of laughter told him what his efforts at concealment had amounted to.

He shrugged into his coarsest robe without bothering with any smallclothes, hoping that the rough scratching of the fabric over his welts would tame his sudden erection. If anything, it had the opposite effect, but there was nothing for it but to scrub the tears from his face and go back out anyway.

Asao was at the door, speaking with the attendant who’d come with his food. Lord Antony was sitting on the sofa again, and Hanyu walked straight to him and dropped down at his feet. It was the only way to keep from giving in to his overwhelming desire to crawl into the god’s lap.

“Thank you for disciplining me, my lord,” he said. “I look forward to the rest of my punishment.”

“I should say you do!” Lord Marcus laughed. “I knew you were talented with that cane, Annie, but my goodness! Oh, well. At least arousal helps him remember his manners.”

Hanyu felt his face flame even hotter and his erection, blessedly, wilt a little.

“Go on, boy,” his master said.

His tone was still so terribly remote. He must have wanted Asao after all. Hanyu’s stomach dropped wretchedly at the thought of how foolish he’d been.

“Yes, my lord,” he whispered. Please forgive me.

He clambered to his feet and fled to the door where Asao waited, his face half-pitying and half-disgusted.

Hanyu wished that for once in his life he’d kept his stupid mouth shut.

Chapter Text

ANTONY’S POV

No matter how much Antony wished Hanyu hadn’t forced him into a punishment, he couldn’t help admiring the boy’s acting abilities. He never would have thought that irrepressible Hanyu could make such a convincing display of fear without once cracking a smile or giggle.

Caning Hanyu felt wrong- not that he was doing it at all, but that Marcus’ presence forced him to do it all wrong. No warmup with his hand, no check-ins to ensure that the boy was all right, no way for Hanyu to ask for it all to stop, which he usually offered to humans even when they were under discipline. Well, he supposed the boy could technically plead for mercy, but Hanyu’s training was unlikely to allow for such things without Antony’s express permission, and even if he did there was no safe way for Antony to relent. It was simply going to be a terrible spanking and there was no way around that.

He was relieved when the knock allowed him to cut the charade short, though he winced internally when he saw Hanyu’s arousal. He wished the boy weren’t so ashamed of his body’s response. It wasn’t anything unusual or worth such shame, though of course Marcus’ guffaws were unlikely to put the poor fellow at ease. Should Antony have given the beating differently? It was hard to put aside centuries of practice in making canings as pleasant as possible for the recipient, but perhaps a more painful punishment would have produced a less embarrassing result.

Regardless, he was glad to see Hanyu leaving with his friend. His quick thinking had saved Asao from a good deal of unpleasantness: either forced sex with Antony or punishment for failing to ensure the first.

Antony still wasn’t quite sure what he would have done.

He thought he knew, though. Marcus was entirely too clearsighted when it came to him. He would have done whatever his lover demanded to keep Asao out of trouble.

As long as he hadn’t required a trade, anyhow. Antony wasn’t handing Hanyu over, not even for an hour, not even with him in the room.

He would have to scold Hanyu for the way he’d solved the problem. It wasn’t his attendant’s job to use himself as a distraction. Still, he admired the cleverness and pluck of the solution.

“They’re almost more trouble than they’re worth, aren’t they?” Marcus chuckled as the door shut behind the two offerings.

“Hardly!” Antony snorted. “I don’t know how well you remember the years before we started taking offerings, but I don’t care to repeat them. Starving does not do wonders for my temperament.”

Antony’s empty belly squeezed tight at the thought of food. It had been several days since he’d fed properly, and yesterday he’d had barely a sip before Hanyu swooned…

“Does anything?” Marcus laughed at Antony’s answering scowl and put his arm around him. “Don’t glare like that, Annie, it just makes me want to kiss it off you.”

Antony found himself relaxing into his lover’s familiar embrace. Even after all these years, it thrilled him a little to feel how thick and strong Marcus’ arm was around him.

Back when he’d been a boy princeling swooning over the new captain of his father’s guard, he’d fantasized night after night about how it would feel to be held in these powerful arms. It had taken almost four hundred years, but eventually he’d gotten his wish.

In fact, his relationship with Marcus was the only thing about his life that had turned out remotely the way he’d wanted before the curse.

“You know, I’d say that was a fortunate interruption from your little plaything,” Marcus said, so close to Antony’s ear that his lips brushed the lobe. Antony couldn’t restrain a shiver at the delicate touch, and Marcus chuckled dark and low and pulled him in tighter. “I would much rather have you to myself than share you with my attendant.”

“Oh?” Antony tried to keep his voice steady and unmoved, though his lover’s attention was going straight to his groin. “Suppose you did have me to yourself. What would you do with me?”

Marcus hummed musingly and his tongue slipped out of his mouth and trailed idly up and down Antony’s earlobe. Antony had to swallow down an embarrassing whine.

“I think,” Marcus purred into his neck, “that I would strip you down, spread you out, and taste every last inch of you. I’d like to see what kinds of noises I could coax out of your oh-so-cranky self. That’s what I would do.”

This time Antony couldn’t hold back the tiny whimper that rose in his throat. Marcus laughed breathily and nipped at his neck.

“I take it you’re amenable,” he teased.

Yes. This was it. This was right. This was what no one else ever got to see- Marcus’ tenderness, his sweetness, the strength that let Antony relax entirely into him. No one else made him feel so safe and cared for.

It was like a secret that he shared only with Marcus’ offerings: the war god might be a difficult lover to please, but when he was pleased there was no one sweeter, gentler, more attentive. Antony sagged in his lover’s arms and gave himself over entirely.

“Oh, yes,” Marcus breathed as Antony unwound against him. “Yes, Annie, yes that’s right. Let me take care of you.”

Antony did. He let Marcus pull his clothes off and kiss him cross-eyed after every bit of fabric fluttered to the carpet. He drank up Marcus’ breathy compliments and lingering touches. He let him undo his braid and send his long silver sweep of hair tangling down his back. He even let his lover lift him into his arms and carry him to the bed, if a little reluctantly.

“My legs work,” he grumbled as Marcus hoisted him.

“Of course they do, darling,” the bigger vampire soothed. “But you fit in my arms so perfectly, it would be a crime not to take advantage.”

Marcus laid him on the bed as though he were a thing owed gentleness. Then, true to his word, he covered his chest and belly with kisses so searing Antony didn’t even miss warmth.

Finally, he settled on Antony’s right hip and nibbled and suckled at the spot until Antony couldn’t even think straight.

“Marcus,” he gasped, “stop teasing!”

“How can I when you’re so tasty?” Marcus growled, but he started moving again.

He nibbled an icy trail down Antony’s thigh, flicking his tongue briefly over his balls but then continuing down rather than up. Antony’s whine of frustration ended in a gasp as Marcus’ questing tongue found his hole.

He lapped and probed until Antony was keening. The high, desperate noises shamed him, but not as much as the moment when he finally broke down and begged.

“Marcus, please,” he gasped. “Please, I need-”

“Easy, Annie.” Marcus pulled back and ran a lazy finger up and down his slick crack. “I know what you need better than you do. I’m the only one who can give it to you. And I always deliver.”

The finger pushed into him at the same moment that Marcus brought his mouth down on Antony’s aching cock.

Marcus alternated between slow, teasing movements and more vigorous sucking. No matter how rapidly he bobbed his head up and down, he never broke his steady, challenging eye contact. He hummed, low and tuneless, around Antony’s cock. When he crooked his finger, Antony shuddered in helpless pleasure.

“More,” he managed.

Marcus smiled and hummed louder and added a second finger, then a third.

It seemed like an ecstatic, torturous hour later that Marcus stopped toying with him and opened his throat. A few hard swallows around Antony’s dick and a final crooking of the fingers inside him pushed Antony over the edge, and his pleading moans tapered off into silent ecstasy.

He lay still for only a moment, panting and dizzy with pleasure, then he cracked an eye and gazed down at his lover. Marcus was still holding his softening dick in his mouth, but he managed to smile angelically around it. The man even batted his eyelashes.

“Oh, enough with the innocent looks,” Antony managed, his voice hardly more than a rasp. “You’ve opened me up. Now it’s time to fuck me.”

Another eyelash flutter, then Marcus let his cock fall and lifted himself to his knees. “My lord’s wish is my command, as always.”

When he slid into Antony’s oversensitive hole, the line between pleasure and overstimulation blurred into a heady, full-body sensation better than any drug Antony could remember. He wailed like a mating cat and couldn’t even manage to be embarrassed.

Marcus gave him a moment to adjust, but only a moment, and then he was thrusting and moaning himself, and it was all so, so good.

But the best was afterwards.

The best was lying, sated and exhausted, against Marcus’ broad chest while his lover played with his hair and smiled down at him with so much adoration in his big, dark eyes that Antony felt like the center of the universe.

“I love you,” Antony whispered, still half-frightened by the words after all this time.

Marcus smiled and leaned down to press a kiss to his lips. “I love you too, Annie. Antony.” He laughed. “I love your name. It feels almost sinful to say. It’s all tongue. ‘An-to-ny.’”

“You’re ridiculous.” Antony meant the words to be biting, but they were soft and foolish with fondness. “If you like it so much, why don’t you ever use it?”

“Everyone calls you ‘Antony.’ ‘Annie’ is mine.”

There were some more languid kisses, then Marcus rolled off the bed and stretched. Antony fought down the desire to beg him to stay, to keep holding him, to preserve this perfect moment just a little longer.

“I’d say that was a pretty good thank-you, wouldn’t you, Annie?”

“Adequate.” Antony was still too weak with love and pleasure to muster any real grouchiness. Still, the mention of the ‘thank-you’ reminded him of what he was being thanked for. “But… I’ve been meaning to ask. What did you mean about me helping with your scene with Asao?”

“Just what I said.” Marcus padded towards the washroom. Antony felt an absurd pang of sadness when he lost sight of his lover. Come back. “The boy was nervous about being punished, but when you stepped in like some kind of sacrificial lamb? I think you really convinced him he was about to get beaten to a pulp. He hasn’t put a toe out of line since.”

“But…” Antony had to be careful how he worded this. He couldn’t let himself get so high on sex and closeness that he forgot to be careful. “You were going to hurt him.”

“I was going to punish him, of course, but it wouldn’t have incapacitated him. Really, you’re getting so terribly sentimental about the things in your old age. Is that what you want with this rude blond one? A pet? Anyhow, that was over two weeks ago. Why are you still on about it?”

Antony couldn’t let himself get sidetracked. “But after he was gone, you still… I mean, he wasn’t there to see, you didn’t have to…”

“Was I too rough with you?” Antony wished he could see Marcus’ face, could judge if that edge of mockery were real or his own imagination. “Come now, Annie. We both know you can handle more than that. Anyhow, you were the one who offered. You said I could do whatever I wanted. It’s not fair to get pissy with me about it afterwards.”

“I’m not… I didn’t mean…” Dammit, he was stammering like a child.

Marcus stepped out of the washroom, his face scrubbed and his hair neat. He was looking at Antony with such palpable disappointment that Antony felt himself shriveling. Panic thudded through him, chasing away the last shreds of post-coital drowsiness. What had he said? Where had he gone wrong?

“Antony. I know you grew up at court and you had to learn to be manipulative and two-faced. But that was all so long ago. I can’t be with someone who says something is all right and then goes back on it. I need to be able to trust you. No court games in the bedroom, remember? We’ve been over this so many times. Are you even trying to be trustworthy anymore?”

“I’m… I am trying!” Antony was mortified to realize that he was crying. When had that started? “I didn’t mean… I wasn’t being-”

“Not this again.” Marcus’ face went cold. He turned away from the bed and headed to the sitting room, where he began pulling on his clothes. “You know that won’t work on me. Crying doesn’t make the problem go away.”

“I’m sorry!” Antony stumbled off the bed and scrubbed wildly at his face as he rushed to Marcus’ side. “I’m not trying to cry, I promise! I just didn’t mean… I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said anything about it. I’m sorry. I’ll do better.”

Marcus kept his back turned as he pulled his shirt down over his head, and Antony had to concentrate to keep more traitorous tears from falling. Why did he always get so tongue-tied and stupid when they argued? Why did he always start arguments? Everything had been perfect and wonderful and he’d ruined it, he always ruined it!

“Please, Marcus,” he tried again. “I’m sorry! Of course you’re right. I shouldn’t have… I’m sorry. Please…”

“It’s all right.” Marcus’ soothing tone cut through Antony’s misery, and his lover’s wide, rough thumb brushed at the few remaining tears on his face. “I know you don’t mean to do it. It’s how you were raised. You can’t really help being manipulative sometimes. But that’s why you keep me around, right? You can always count on me to call you out on it. You know I won’t let you get away with that kind of behavior. You need me to keep you honest.”

Antony nodded despairingly. He couldn’t speak or he would start crying again, and that would be the worst thing he could do right now. Still, the appeal in his eyes must have been enough. Marcus shrugged on his overcoat, then dropped a kiss on his forehead.

“It’s all right, Annie. I forgive you. And I’m sorry if you feel like I was too rough with you the other day.” Then he cracked a mischievous smile that made Antony feel just the tiniest bit better. “But we both know you liked it.”

A few more kisses and reassuring words, and then Marcus was gone.

Antony stood naked in the middle of his sitting room and stared bleakly around at the mess of clothes and bedsheets he needed to put to rights. He found it hard to muster the willpower to actually pick anything up. Or the energy… he needed to eat soon. His hands were shaking a little, though whether the reaction came from hunger or emotion was hard to say.

Why was he so sneaky and manipulative and terrible at love and relationships? No wonder he made Marcus so angry. Who else would put up with him?

Hanyu only wanted him because he didn’t know any better.

Well, he’d know better pretty quickly if he came back to this mess. Antony set to work and wished that the hours would fly faster.

Maybe the boy was just too young and human to see how terrible he was. But still, he couldn’t wait for Hanyu to come home.

Chapter Text

HANYU’S POV

Hanyu knew Asao was silently judging him as they trailed after the attendant (in Hanyu’s first stroke of luck all day, it wasn’t stupid gorgeous Eiji this time) as he finished his rounds.

Worse than the judgement was knowing how richly he deserved it. He was almost looking forward to the moment when they would finally be alone, and Asao could scold him as he ought to be scolded. It would be better to know what his friend was thinking of him than to have to try to supply all the recriminations himself.

He wished he hadn’t chosen such a rough robe. It had seemed like a good idea at the time, but now his ass felt like it was on fire.

“We don’t always have it this easy,” the attendant said cheerfully. His name was Norio, and he was almost as small and pretty as Lord Antony.

Thinking of Lord Antony hurt almost as much as his welts at the moment.

What was his maser thinking about him right now? Was he angry? Disappointed? Or worse, was this sort of blunder all he expected from his badly behaved attendant? Did he understand why Hanyu had disobeyed him?

“When the seas are rough, we have to deliver each meal individually,” Norio continued. “And don’t think taking a position in the laundry will get you out of it, either! Zenji presses everyone into service! You’ll just have to resign yourself to the idea.”

“Oh!” Hanyu finally understood what had prompted this storm of information. “We weren’t really looking at positions…”

“Of course not right now.” Norio smiled and dropped his voice as he knocked at the next door. “But it’s good to know what’s available. You know, for the future.”

Right. The future. The day when all of Hanyu’s chances to get it right with Lord Antony would finally run out. At the rate he was going, he’d be lucky to be kept even that long.

It wasn’t long before they were headed back to the kitchen, which was as bustling as ever. Norio deposited Hanyu and Asao atop some crates – “You’ll be as out of the way here as you’re going to get.” – and set to work reloading his cart. A quick glance around showed that, blessedly, stupid wonderful Eiji was nowhere to be found.

That would usually have been a small blessing, but today it felt momentous. Hanyu would have died of shame if he’d had to face his beautiful predecessor with eyes and ass red from a punishment that Eiji never would have earned.

With his attention returned to his welts, Hanyu balanced his meal on his lap and shifted uncomfortably. He wouldn’t be sitting easily for a day or so, and his punishment wasn’t even over.

To his own surprise, he didn’t find the thought too terribly upsetting. The second half would be better. There would be no one there except him and Lord Antony, and it would be… safer. Quieter. Intimate, almost. He could explain himself and apologize, and he was almost sure that his master would forgive him.

Once Lord Marcus wasn’t there, everything would be better.

“Thank you,” Asao said suddenly. Hanyu broke away from his thoughts and glanced over to see his friend poking at his own portion of breakfast. “I appreciate that you didn’t want me to be punished.”

Hanyu shook his head. “It was stupid of me. He would have used you.”

“Maybe not.” At Hanyu’s glare, Asao sighed. “All right, yes, I think he would have. Once my lord brought up punishment, anyway.”

“I’m sorry. It all would have worked out fine.” Hanyu was so stupid. A new thought occurred, however, and he looked up hopefully. “Unless… did you not want Lord Antony to take you?”

Asao gave a starry-eyed smile that Hanyu didn’t entirely like.

“Oh no!" he said dreamily. "Lord Antony is so kind. I would have loved for him to use me. I’m sure he would have been gentle.”

Hanyu hunched over his plate. He had ruined everything. Not just in preventing Asao from servicing Lord Antony today, but in keeping them apart entirely. If only the god hadn’t mistakenly chosen him, then no doubt Asao would have won his way into Lord Antony’s bed by now.

Worse yet, Hanyu was glad of it. He was fiercely, selfishly happy that he had been Lord Antony’s choice, and he knew that was awful, but it was also true.

“Has he taken you yet?” Asao asked, and this time Hanyu knew he wasn’t imagining the smile that stole across his friend’s face when he shook his head.

“No,” Hanyu sighed. “But I think you’re right. I think he would be wonderful.”

It had only been a month since his claiming, but he must have imagined it a thousand times already.

Hanyu had been trained to accept roughness and indifference without protest, but he didn’t think Lord Antony would be like that. There might be some grumbling, but no cruelty. He felt sure that those slender little fingers would touch him gently, that he would be opened carefully, that there would be breathy compliments and sweet kisses and kindness and pleasure.

Of course, in the wake of his strange reaction to his punishment, he was no longer so sure that he would be averse to a bit of roughness…

“That’s why you shouldn’t have done that.” Asao’s voice was a little sharper now. Hanyu looked up and found his friend staring fiercely at him. “You shouldn’t misbehave like that for him. You’re so lucky to belong to him. You should be grateful.”

“I am grateful.” That was one thing he didn’t have to question.

“You should let him know that you’re grateful. You certainly shouldn’t be disrespectful on purpose.”

“He might not know it was on purpose. He might think it was just a slip."

Did that make it better or worse? Hanyu wasn't sure.

Suddenly, he had a terrible thought. "Oh no! I hope he doesn’t decide I can’t be trusted to use his name in private anymore.”

“He lets you call him… Antony?” Asao gasped.

His friend looked nervous to be dropping honorifics even without Lord Antony present. Back at the temple, they would get a swat on the knuckles for referring to any of the gods so informally, and that was when the gods were untold fathoms away, not right down a flight of stairs.

“Well, he did." Hanyu's shoulders slumped. "Who knows if I’ll still be allowed?”

“I suppose.” Asao took a bite of yam and chewed it slowly. “How on earth did you earn that?”

“I didn’t,” Hanyu admitted. “I slipped up and called him by his name without permission. It was an accident. But after that he said I could keep doing it, when it's just the two of us.”

“After… your punishment?”

“No, he didn’t punish me for that.” Hanyu sighed and shifted on his sore backside. “Unless you count one time when he said I could think of my cold food as punishment if I wanted one so badly... this is actually the first time he’s disciplined me.”

Asao started laughing so abruptly it came out as a snort. Several kitchen workers cast them looks that ranged from irritated to amused.

Asao thought he was joking! The idea that Hanyu wasn't racking up punishments by the hour was apparently absurd enough to be a joke all on its own. Hanyu swelled with offense, which had no effect until Asao looked over, saw his face, and stopped laughing.

“Wait- really? But…” Asao hesitated, then plunged ahead. “Did you get better at holding still or keeping quiet? It would make sense, I suppose. Awe and fear and all that. I know I've behaved better here than I did back home.”

“No,” Hanyu admitted.

It was surprisingly easy to forget his flash of jealousy and pour out all his troubles and shortcomings to his friend, as he’d been doing since he could remember. The familiarity was so comforting in the wake of his disgrace.

“If anything, I’m worse with him than I ever was back home,” he confided. “I just keep blurting things out and making mistakes, and not for any good reason like today. On my very first morning I laughed with my mouth full and spit food all over the table.”

“Hanyu!”

“I know! That annoyed him, but he just glared a lot. No punishment.”

“And since then?”

“I don’t know why, but he keeps forgiving me. The night before last I went snooping in his things and I accidentally destroyed a robe he must have been keeping forever. It was so fine, I think it must have come from the heavens."

"What-" Asao's eyes were round and a little brighter than usual. "Even for that, he didn't punish you?"

"He didn’t even shout! He just held me until I calmed down and then he was a little stern and then he forgave me again. That was when he said I could count the cold breakfast as my punishment, actually.” Hanyu couldn’t help the way his lips curled up at the memory. Even though it was so recent, he’d already been over and over it, like a child pulling out a shiny rock to rub its edges. “He said I mattered more than an old robe and I shouldn’t worry myself over it. Then he-”

Asao made a small, strangled noise and Hanyu shut himself up immediately.

His friend was gripping his plate so tightly Hanyu thought it might break. His face wasn’t as pale as it had been lately, but only because he was flushed with what seemed to be anger.

Dammit. Hanyu should have known better than to brag. They both knew it should have been Asao receiving that gentleness and goodness, Asao who was praised for no reason and coddled and held and painted and forgiven for everything. Hanyu had stolen his best friend’s life, and now he was yammering about how wonderful it was.

He was such an insensitive little shit sometimes.

“How could you disobey a master like that?” Asao whispered, still staring down at his food. “How could you snoop after all that? Why do you have to be so…!”

Hanyu tensed to hear something horrible, something that would slice right to the heart of all his fears and insecurities about himself, something so cruel that it would echo in his mind forever. Asao certainly knew him well enough to do it. He would know how to flay Hanyu with just a few words, and Hanyu waited miserably to hear which ones he would choose.

Instead, Asao shut his mouth with a snap, took a long, slow breath, and relaxed his hold on his plate.

“I’m sorry,” Asao said after another breath. “I just…”

“No, I’m sorry!” Hanyu rushed to interrupt him, full of remorse. How could he have been happy about his good fortune when it came at his friend's expense? “I know he deserves better from me. Not even me. He deserves you. It should have been you.”

“I’m sorry,” Asao said again. He breathed deeply a few more times, then spoke more steadily. “I shouldn’t be jealous. You wouldn’t have been jealous of me. You never are. Just try to be better, all right? I… it kills me that you’re not even trying to be good for him!”

“I am trying,” Hanyu whispered. “But you know me, Asao, I’m not good. But he still likes me! He said so!”

“I don’t want to talk about it anymore,” Asao said stiffly.

They finished their meals in silence. Finally, Asao spoke.

“Remember when Father Shun's mother came to visit and taught us all those filthy jokes? My lord was out the other day, and so I told the one about the pig keeper to the man who came with my dinner. You should have seen his face. He actually shrieked!”

That set them off exchanging reminiscences and laughing over old times. The conversation flowed smoothly enough, but Hanyu could still feel the unease beneath it all.

He was living Asao’s life and serving Asao’s master, and he was doing a piss-poor job of it. It was time to stop and think before speaking, as Asao would do if everything had turned out as it was supposed to be.

How would Asao handle the situation Hanyu now found himself in with Lord Antony? How would he go about making it right? What would he say and do when he returned to his master?

He wouldn't explain or rationalize. He wouldn't make excuses for his behavior, as Hanyu had been planning to do. He wouldn't bury his master in a tidal wave of words as soon as he saw him. He would present himself for the rest of his punishment and do everything in his power to show that he would be better and more obedient in the future.

Hanyu thought and planned all through their exercises, through Gen’s jokes and Daiji’s crudeness at the expense of his sore ass, as well as Kenta’s desperate peacemaking. Kenta kept sending him worried looks, but Hanyu couldn’t afford to divide his focus to reassure his friend. He needed to pay attention to rehearsing.

When he was finally done and standing in front of his own master’s door, he was ready.

Lord Antony was sitting at his desk looking over some papers. When he saw Hanyu, he got up to greet him.

Hanyu didn’t meet the god’s eyes or even allow himself to look and see Lord Antony’s facial expression, and he didn’t give his master time to speak. He crossed the room in a few quick strides and prostrated himself at Lord Antony’s feet as gracefully as his tired legs would allow.

“Your unworthy slave looks forward to the remainder of your punishment, my lord,” he said, proud that he’d managed to think of a way to make his acceptance obvious while still avoiding making a request for punishment. When there were so few rules, he didn’t have any excuse for forgetting one of them. “Please discipline me as I deserve.”

Chapter Text

ANTONY’S POV

It didn’t take Antony long to tidy the rooms, or to find and set out a jar of Julia’s salve to soothe Hanyu’s welts when he returned. Looking at his living space, he was satisfied to see that no one would be able to tell that anything had even happened.

As soon as Antony had settled sufficiently to think straight, he went to his desk and pulled out the box with the enchanted papers. Sure enough, he had a letter from Claudia. The sight of her handwriting loosened all the knots of guilt and misery he was tied up in, and he settled in to read.

My dear Antony,

Already he felt more like himself.

I eagerly await your arrival at Titus’ coordinates. If they’re out of humans, I’m inclined to say that that’s what they get for being savages. I hope you don’t have to run any raids. I completely agree with your stance on capturing noncombatants- anyhow, it’s risky to have women of childbearing age aboard! We’re hardly equipped to handle babies. As for what Marcus would think of you for that? He’s welcome to build his own ship and run it how he pleases. That vessel is yours. Don’t forget it!

I’m surprised to hear so much about your new offering. Surprised, but not displeased. I’m glad you’ve gotten so much joy from him as well as exasperation. He sounds very sweet. Tell Hanyu hello from me and that I expect him to take good care of my only twin.

Antony would do no such thing.

I know I don’t have to tell you to be careful and remember that he’s a human and won’t live long. But I suppose I told you anyway. Forgive me my solicitousness, and please don’t take it as condescension.

As always, give Theo my love. We’ve had rough seas of late and I’ve been wishing terribly that she were here. Not necessarily to steer the ship, but to cuddle up against when the wind gets so cold and wet that I almost remember what it was like to shiver.

Be well, Antony. I eagerly await your next letter.

Your loving sister,

Claudia

She was being ridiculous. Of course he wasn’t getting overly attached. As she’d said herself, he knew better than to do that. It wasn’t a crime to enjoy his offering. Everyone enjoyed their offerings, that was why they kept them in their rooms instead of keeping them all in a dungeon and only visiting for meals.

Anyhow, who wouldn’t enjoy Hanyu? The cheerful idiot had tricked Marcus. Antony found himself amused by the idea of the two of them engaged in a conspiracy against his lover, though he still intended to scold Hanyu for the way he’d gone about it.

Hanyu shouldn’t risk himself by getting between Marcus and anything he wanted. Marcus was Antony’s lover; it was Antony’s job to handle him. Anyhow, unlike Hanyu, he could survive whatever Marcus dished out when his temper got the better of him.

That was what made their relationship work. They could deal with each other. Marcus could handle Antony’s manipulations, and Antony could handle Marcus’ rages. It was the perfect pairing.

Still. He was looking forward to Hanyu returning so he could patch him up and they could have a good laugh about it all. Anyway, he owed the boy some praise for his phenomenal acting skills.

As if Antony had summoned him with the wish, Hanyu stepped through the door. He opened it and slipped through rather than barreling over the threshold like usual, and his head was bowed. Was he trying to hold back a laugh?

Antony got up, smiling, and took a step towards his attendant, but in a few long-legged strides Hanyu was right in front of him.

The boy sank to the floor at his feet without even the quick grin he usually shot at Antony before he put his head down.

Still, Antony didn’t understand that something was wrong until Hanyu began speaking.

“Your unworthy slave looks forward to the remainder of your punishment, my lord. Please discipline me as I deserve.”

Oh dear.

“Remainder?” Antony repeated stupidly, but already he was putting the pieces together. “No… there will be no more punishment, Hanyu. We were just putting on a show to distract him from Asao. Wasn’t that what you intended?”

Fuck. What if he’d been wrong? Had he misread that gleam in Hanyu’s eye?

What difference would it make if it had been an accident? None. Antony would have had to behave exactly the same. But still… Panic set to work redoing every stomach knot his letter from Claudia had just loosened.

“It doesn’t matter what I intended.” Hanyu didn’t budge from his bow. He wasn’t even fidgeting, which was alarming all on its own. “I still disobeyed you, my lord. I deserve any punishment it pleases you to give.”

Antony knelt carefully in front of his offering and finally gave in to his desire to stroke the boy’s hair. Hanyu didn’t quite break position, but he did lean into the gentle touch. Antony let out a breath he could have been holding for… hell, for hours, how would he know?

“You’ve been punished plenty,” he said. “It’s not your fault Marcus was being a pushy bastard. Though if anything like that happens in the future, I don’t want you to interfere again.”

“I won’t,” Hanyu whispered into the carpet. Antony was fairly sure that the boy was crying. “I’m sorry, my lord. I didn’t realize that you… that you wanted Asao. I thought-”

“I didn’t,” Antony interrupted. “I think I would have permitted it in the end because I didn’t want my stubbornness to get your friend in trouble, but I didn’t want it.”

“R-Really?” Hanyu quavered, and finally the boy was breaking position and peering up at Antony with his huge brown eyes somehow scared and hopeful at the same time under their generous veiling of tears and impossibly thick lashes.

Antony felt something low in his stomach twist wretchedly at the sight, and he had to fight to keep from seizing the boy and dragging him into his lap to wipe those eyes dry.

“B-But you were so angry,” Hanyu whispered, and Antony could have throttled himself.

“I was acting, Hanyu,” he managed to say around the panic squeezing his throat. Fuck. Antony, you fucking asshole, you idiot, you- “I thought you were acting, too, but… were you really that scared?”

“Oh,” Hanyu said, which wasn’t much of a response. “Well. I feel stupid now. Acting… that makes sense. Of course it does. I’m so sorry for my hysterics, my lord.”

Well, there was his answer. Hanyu had been terrified, and Antony hadn’t even fucking noticed. The shaking and tears had been real. Hanyu had been cowering under his hand and he had thought it was all some kind of grand caper. He had thought they were co-conspirators, but he had actually been… fuck, it didn’t bear thinking about how he must have seemed to Hanyu in those moments.

Antony had thought it was a game, albeit not one they had chosen or particularly enjoyed. For Hanyu, it had been a nightmare.

It was terrible to realize that what he had experienced had matched so poorly with what Hanyu had experienced. More than terrible, it was sickening. Was this how Marcus felt whenever-?

No. This was what he was always trying to manipulate Marcus into feeling, this wretched squeezing guilt that made him want to kneel down and beg Hanyu’s forgiveness. But where Hanyu deserved such contrition, he did not. Marcus knew that better than anyone.

Antony dropped his hand from Hanyu’s hair and gave his shoulder a gentle squeeze, hoping that some of his sickening remorse would be conveyed in the gesture.

“It’s not your fault you didn’t realize.” He cast about for something, anything, that he could have done differently so that he could carry on reproaching himself more conveniently. “Hanyu, I am… so sorry. I should have whispered something or winked at you or… something.”

“Lord Marcus would have seen.” Hanyu echoed Antony’s own faltering thoughts. “Really, it’s for the best I got so frightened. It probably made everything much more convincing!”

“I was going to compliment you on your own acting abilities.” Antony groaned and drew his hand down over his face. “I should have known.”

“Oh, I’m a terrible actor,” Hanyu said earnestly, swiping the tears off his cheeks. “So it’s for the best I didn’t realize. Next time-”

“No.” Antony didn’t have to work to make his voice commanding this time.

Hanyu clearly caught the tone. His eyes flicked up curiously to meet Antony’s, then he dropped his gaze, a picture of submission. Antony was glad. If he could make himself understood on no other point, he wanted to be understood in this.

“You’re not going to do something like that again,” he said. “Not for any reason. Marcus isn’t predictable or… safe for you. I don’t want you drawing his attention on purpose ever again. Understood?”

“Understood, my lord,” Hanyu whispered.

“The whole nature of our arrangement is that I’m supposed to protect you. That’s what you get in exchange for your blood and obedience. Let me do that. It’s not your job to throw yourself in the middle of our spats.”

His mind unhelpfully flashed an image of Hanyu actually, physically throwing himself in Marcus’ path. He remembered the man Marcus had pulled limb from limb at the raid. He thrust the thoughts away and fixed his gaze on Hanyu, letting some of his real, urgent pleading leak into his voice. I need you to understand this.

“When you started begging like that, you could have given him more ideas, and he would have kept using Asao as his bargaining chip. He could have started insisting that I use you both at once, or that you set to work on each other, or any number of things. You wouldn’t want to get stuck choosing between servicing me or watching Asao get punished.”

Before Antony was even done speaking, he knew that he’d just made the latest in a seemingly endless parade of today’s mistakes.

Hanyu looked up again, and now his gaze was hungry and almost challenging.

“I would,” the boy breathed, not moving his eyes from Antony’s. “I told you, my lord, I’m bad at acting. I was telling the truth when I interrupted Asao. I meant every word of what I said. It would be the greatest honor and pleasure of my life if you were to use me.”

“It wouldn’t.” Had Antony ever switched from authoritative to desperate more quickly? “I assure you, you would be disappointed.”

“Disappointed?” Hanyu sputtered, goggling at him. “How could I ever-? Well, anyhow, I’m sure I wouldn’t be disappointed at all.”

He shifted a little, doubtless due to his welts, and Antony thanked any actual gods that might be listening for the distraction.

“You’re not in any kind of shape for anything anyway. Come on, I’ve got salve for your welts. It’ll reduce the stinging and help you heal faster.”

“I don’t mind.” The boy was still looking at his with his cheeks flushed and his eyes molten. “I’m happy to wear my master’s marks.”

Fuck. The words and look went straight to Antony’s groin. He had just come twice with Marcus. Damn this immortal stamina!

“Don’t be ridiculous.” He hoped his voice didn’t give away his body’s sudden traitorous interest. “Even if it had been a real punishment, I would have given you the salve afterwards.”

“Really?” Hanyu looked at him curiously. “Would you have still caned me… like that? If you had meant it, I mean?”

“Not exactly.” Antony glared at the table as if it had been to blame. “I would have warmed you up with my hand first so it didn’t hurt so much.”

Hanyu gave a half-strangled groan at that, and Antony finally dared to scowl directly at him. It seemed that the boy wasn’t planning to burst into tears again anytime soon.

“I do that every time I have to punish a human,” he said, tone quelling. “I’m not interested in damaging anybody. Where is this coming from? You were just crying, and I imagine you’ve been miserable all day and now you’re… what, overcome with lust?”

“I suppose?” Hanyu looked a little helpless as he shrugged. “Now that I know you weren’t spanking me because you were angry, I find it… rather erotic?”

“Oh.” Antony cleared his unobstructed throat.

He’d thought that Hanyu’s erection had simply been due to the increased flow of blood to his lower regions that the punishment entailed. He hadn’t thought that it had been a sign of real arousal.

Damn. Now he felt guilty for picking at the boy. Hanyu hadn’t had centuries to figure out his kinks and desires, after all.

“Well, that’s perfectly normal.” He hoped his tone was comforting as well as businesslike. “You’ll find any number of lovers who would be happy to explore that with you. Now come on, I need to tend to you. Take that robe off and go lie down on the bed, on your stomach.”

Hanyu stood and threw a lascivious glance at him. Antony rolled his eyes.

“Do you want to apply it yourself? You can, but it’ll be harder to reach.”

“I’m sorry, my lord, I’ll stop.” Now the boy just looked chastened and miserable again. It wasn’t an improvement.

Antony stood as well and grabbed the salve, then followed Hanyu into the bedroom and watched as the boy shucked off his robe and laid down. He winced at the state of Hanyu’s welts.

“Fuck, Hanyu! Why didn’t you wear any underthings? Didn’t it hurt?”

“Yes, my lord, it did.” His voice was meek and despondent. Antony cursed himself for being so blunt.

Either I’m being nasty and manipulative without even realizing it, or I’m stomping around accidentally trampling on everyone’s feelings. When will I learn how to do things on purpose? Maybe Felix would give me lessons on how to be less terrible.

“All right,” Antony said. “Well, this will sting. I’m sorry.”

He set to work. Hanyu lay still, and he didn’t make any noise, though Antony knew he must be uncomfortable at least. The flesh of his ass was striped hot and red under Antony’s fingers as he spread the salve. He was relieved to see that, as he thought, he hadn’t accidentally overlapped any of his strikes. He was also relieved to find that the task didn’t further inflame his own sudden, inappropriate flash of interest in the boy. He just wanted to soothe the poor abused skin.

The trouble was the red. It made him think of blood, Hanyu’s blood especially, flowing hot and fresh and so very, very good right under his fingers. It sent a great squeezing hunger pang through his belly.

He’d already been so hungry when he caught Hanyu snooping yesterday, and then he’d had only the tiniest sip, barely enough to taste, and after all the energy he’d expended with Marcus that afternoon he was dying for a proper meal.

Still. Hanyu had been stressed and crying. The last time he’d drunk after his offering was in that state, Hanyu had swooned and Antony had been too guilty and terrified to take a sip since. But he had to eat sooner or later…

Tomorrow. He promised himself he would drink when they woke up.

Right now, he needed to tend to his offering’s feelings as well as his flesh. He couldn’t think of anything he’d be less skilled at doing, but Hanyu’s unhappy silence niggled at him.

“I’m not trying to be cruel about turning you down, Hanyu, I swear,” he said finally. “I’m just very tired.”

“You’re not cruel.” Hanyu’s voice was a little muffled by the pillow he had buried his face in. “You’re wonderful. And I’m stupid and demanding and can’t seem to remember my place.”

“You’re none of those things.” Antony scooped out another generous helping of salve and dabbed it over the worst of the welts. “You were amazingly quick-thinking today. You have never once been demanding with me.”

It was harder to argue the last one, but what was he supposed to say? Yes, you don’t always remember your place, but I like that about you?

“I never got the chance to say how much I enjoyed your reading,” Antony said instead. “You were right. You’re wonderful at it. When you’re not lobbing the damn book at my face, anyhow.”

Hanyu turned his head so that he could peer up at Antony from one eye, and the boy was finally, finally smiling again. Antony felt his whole body relax at the sight.

“Sorry about that,” Hanyu said, and Antony snorted.

“You are not. You were laughing.”

The smile widened, and to his own horror Antony found himself raising his voice in exaggerated offense to try to coax it wider yet. What was he doing? Was he really clowning for his attendant?

“My own offering, laughing at my misfortunes!” he wailed. “How cruel the world has become in my old age.”

Hanyu was laughing now, and Antony felt so pleased and foolish at the accomplishment that he knew he needed to go to sleep before he started saying or doing or feeling anything he would regret later. He crawled off the bed and replaced the lid on the jar of salve.

“All right, go put on some underthings,” he told Hanyu. “Then do what pleases you. I’m going to bed.”

Antony donned his own nightclothes and slid under the covers. Immediately he was struck with the memory of the afternoon’s tumble with Marcus on his bed… and the way he’d ruined it all.

He kept replaying it in his mind, trying to think what he should have said or done instead. What would have kept that sweet smile on his lover’s face? Why did he always have to ruin everything and make Marcus so angry? What was wrong with him? Why did he-

“My lord?” Hanyu’s timid voice interrupted Antony’s self-recriminations.

The boy was standing next to his cot, hair tumbling loose and face hopeful and fearful in equal measures. Antony was afraid that he knew what his offering was about to ask.

Please don’t say it. I don’t have the strength right now to turn you down.

“May I sleep in your bed?” Hanyu asked. He dropped his pleading eyes submissively to where his hands were twisting and untwisting. “I promise I won’t try anything, my lord. I just want to be close to you. Please?”

Dammit.

“Oh, don’t look at me like I’m about to step on your supper. All right.” Antony scowled at the rapturous grin that overtook the boy’s face. Would the skin at the corners of his mouth split if his smile got any bigger? It seemed likely. “Bring your own pillow. And if you snore, you should know that I’m liable to kick you right out of the bed. Literally. You’ll fly halfway across the room.”

“Thank you thank you thank you!” Hanyu rhapsodized. He dove under the covers and pulled Antony against his nearly naked body for a tight hug, ignoring the squawk of protest that followed. “I’ll be good, my lord, I promise I won’t make a sound all night!”

“Right, sure.” That was likely.

Antony gave up on squirming free of the boy’s clasping limbs. In the first place, twisting around drew a faint twinge of pain from his almost-healed rib. And rather more pressingly, hunger made it difficult to accurately gauge his strength. He couldn’t risk hurting the big idiot. Hanyu’s snapped bones would not heal in twenty-four hours.

Anyhow. It wasn’t entirely unpleasant to be cradled against Hanyu’s broad chest. Even if his heartbeat made Antony’s stomach gape emptily inside him.

Damn, the boy was so warm. Were all humans this warm? He didn’t remember if- well, no good thinking about that.

Antony went limp and accepted his fate. The boy cuddled even closer and whispered a blissful, “Thank you. Good night, Antony.”

Oh. Hanyu was using his name again.

That was fine. That was acceptable. Nothing to get excited about. But fine.

Antony scowled harder, but he was fairly sure that Hanyu couldn’t see it with the way he was snuggled against his back.

“Right. Well. Good night, Hanyu.”

Chapter Text

HANYU’S POV

Hanyu didn’t know if he’d ever been so contented in his life.

He had the tense little form of his god, his Antony, pulled tightly to his chest. It was thrilling, soothing, euphoric. Perfect. No word served as well as perfect.

The god had been chilly at first, but Hanyu’s own body heat had warmed him until it felt almost like he was cuddling another human… only better, because every bone and drop of blood in his body was singing that It’s Antony, it’s really him, I’m in Antony’s bed and I have Antony in my arms.

As soon as he had realized that the god felt guilty for giving him his deserved punishment, Hanyu had known that it would be an excellent time to make requests. He’d shot too far with his efforts to get his master to use him, but that was to be expected. As soon as Antony had explained that he was tired, Hanyu could have slapped himself. Of course he shouldn’t have been trying for sex, the god had been exhausted hours ago when he came back from punishing Lord Messalina.

He’d thought he’d ruined his chances to get anything, but then for some strange reason Antony had even been guilty for turning him down. Hanyu had known then that he was finally going to get permission to share his master’s bed.

And it was just as good as he’d hoped.

He had thought he would be overcome with awe if this moment ever came, and he supposed he was, just a little bit. It was strange to think of ‘Saw Masaya’s first poems’ and ‘Established the royal house of Tacia’ and ‘Cuddled with Hanyu’ as experiences that would all belong to the same person after this. But more than that, he was simply enjoying the closeness.

Antony felt so small and solid against him. He had been stiff and squirmy when Hanyu first got into bed, but after a moment he had relaxed, bid Hanyu good night, and shut his eyes resolutely.

Hanyu lay for several long moments feeling stupefied with joy. The god’s breaths slowed, then stopped. Did that mean he was sleeping, since he was no longer bothering with breathing? Hanyu thought so. He tested his theory by pressing his face into the back of Antony’s head and inhaling.

He was almost too distracted by the feeling of Antony’s unbound hair tickling his nose and cheeks to make note of the god’s scent. His master kept his hair braided so tightly most of the time that to feel it loose against his face was, all at once, shockingly intimate.

Just as sweet and intimate was the smell of Antony’s hair. It smelled of the saltwater they washed with and the oils the god used- something fresh and sharp, maybe lemon?

Hanyu drifted off to a sweet, contented sleep like that, rejoicing all the while in the feeling of the solid little breathless body cuddled against his own.

When he woke up, there was no moment of confusion. He was immediately aware of where he was and who was there with him. Antony was no longer pressed against him, but he was still there. Hanyu could feel his counterweight on the mattress. He kept his eyes closed for a moment, smiling and savoring the joy that swelled in every part of him.

He’s really here, with me.

As it turned out when he finally opened his eyes, Antony was only barely there. He was curled tightly into the upper left corner of the bed, so close to the edge that most of his hair was hanging loose from the side. Hanyu realized that the god hadn’t had much choice- his own arms and legs were flung wide enough to encompass most of the mattress. Hanyu also appeared to have gathered both of the thin blankets, leaving Antony with only a corner of one that he’d managed to pull over his feet.

Hanyu guiltily decided to untangle himself from the blankets and tuck them around Antony, but his movements weren’t slow enough. Silver eyes opened and flicked over to meet his, perfectly clear and awake, making him jump.

“Shit!” he gasped. “Do you always wake up like that? All at once, I mean?”

“Yes. Do you always sleep like you’re trying to learn the backstroke on a mattress?”

Somehow, the grumbling made it all a thousand times better. This was real, this was Antony, his scowl and his sour tone. Hanyu grinned at his master so broadly that his cheeks ached.

“For goodness’ sake, boy, you don’t have to blind me,” Antony groused. “Are you rested enough? Are you hungry?”

“Yes I’m rested, no I’m not hungry.” Hanyu smiled at the god’s solicitousness. “What about you, my lord? Did you sleep all right?”

“As well as can be expected with a live eel wriggling around in the bed.” With that, Antony rolled out of the bed and began stripping.

Hanyu couldn’t help his stare. He had only had the chance to see his master naked the night of the battle, and that night had been tense and frightening as well as exciting. This was nothing like that. Antony pulled his shirt over his head as casually as if he changed in front of Hanyu every day.

He still caught Hanyu staring at his ass. It was a very shapely ass, so Hanyu didn’t feel he should be blamed overmuch.

“What? Have I shocked your virgin eyes, Master Nudity?” Antony drawled.

This was Hanyu’s chance to say something clever and seductive. He needed to make his voice low and husky, droop his lids a little and peer through his lashes, maybe play with his hair…

He opened his mouth to begin.

He yawned.

Antony’s strange, gasping laughter filled the little room as Hanyu blushed and stammered.

“Oh dear!” the god chortled. “I had no idea I’d become so boring! I’ll cover up before you fall back asleep entirely.”

Hanyu wanted to scowl as his master buttoned his pants and pulled on a shirt, but he couldn’t quite manage it. He was too happy. Already, this day was so much better than yesterday.

Antony padded into the washroom and began brushing his hair. Immediately, Hanyu felt the tightness of his bladder and wished he had beaten the god there.

“How are your injuries?” Antony called back to him, distracting from his remorse.

Hanyu snorted. “Injuries? My little welts are fine, but I’d hardly call them injuries. Anyhow, I’m not the one with a broken rib!”

“Oh, that? That’s healed. There isn’t so much as a twinge anymore. I doubt the same can be said for your marks.”

He was right. Hanyu’s ass was still sore and, when he thought about it, he couldn’t help shifting a little on the sheets.

Antony emerged from the washroom, as neat and put-together as if he’d never drifted off to sleep in Hanyu’s arms. Well, almost… Hanyu couldn’t help noticing that the god looked a bit different. His face seemed a little paler than usual and his eyes were focusing on Hanyu with a slightly unnerving intensity, but his master wasn’t looking him in the eye. Antony’s gaze was fixed near his face but not quite there, a little lower…

“Take off your underthings,” the god ordered. “I want to salve your wounds again.”

Hanyu started to obey, then remembered an older command. He was supposed to express his physical needs.

“I need… a moment, my lord…”

Antony looked confused, but he nodded. Hanyu scurried to the washroom and relieved himself, then washed his hands and returned.

The god was waiting with the little jar uncapped in his hand. Hanyu wriggled out of his underthings and laid down on his belly. He couldn’t restrain a little shiver, both at the chilly air and the thrill of knowing that he was about to feel Antony’s touch on his naked skin.

“Why do you insist on being naked all the time if you’re cold onboard?” Antony asked. Hanyu felt the god shifting closer to him and he shivered again.

“It’s not so cold. Anyhow, I- oh!”

“Did I hurt you?” The salve-slicked finger withdrew from his skin as suddenly as it had come.

“No, not at all. It was just a little cold.”

“I see.” His master paused for a moment, then began smoothing the salve over him once more. “I’m afraid my skin won’t warm it at all. Sorry. Anyhow, you were saying?”

Hanyu tried to gather his scattered thoughts, but as the careful touches to the flesh of his ass continued, any hope of that was gone. “… what was I saying, my lord?”

“Never mind, pet.”

“All right.” Hanyu relaxed and let himself enjoy the gentle, chilly fingers moving over him.

He felt a quick twinge of guilt as he remembered his conversation with Asao. He needed to be good for Lord Antony, like Asao would have been. What would Asao do if his master were tending to him like this?

“You’re far kinder than your unworthy servant deserves,” he purred- or tried to purr, anyway. It was hard to gauge exactly how loud his voice was with one ear pressed into the sheets. “How can I repay my lord’s generosity?”

The fingers froze.

“For goodness’ sake, boy, it’s just some medicine,” Antony said after a moment, resuming his ministrations, but his voice was a little less irascible and a little more rattled than usual.

Clearly, Hanyu was onto something. What was it that his master wanted from him? He hoped it was sex. He gave a breathy little moan and wriggled slightly at the next touch.

“Did I hurt you?” Antony sounded concerned, but steady. “Would you rather finish this yourself?”

Not sex, then. It figured.

“No, sorry,” Hanyu said dejectedly, and the application continued.

If Antony wasn’t feeling lustful, Hanyu had a pretty good idea of what he wanted. After all, the list of reasons why the gods kept offerings was not terribly long. He smiled against the bedsheets in anticipation.

“Done,” his master announced after another second. “I’ll reapply it before you go back to bed, but I think that should take care of it. Hopefully by tomorrow, they won’t be troubling you much anymore.”

“Thank you for taking care of me, Antony.” Hanyu wriggled up to his knees, careful not to let the sheets or his feet touch the salve on his backside. “Let me take care of you?”

The god’s eyes widened and his pupils dilated as Hanyu tilted his head, exposing his throat. He’d guessed right! Hanyu smiled at his master.

“You must be hungry. It’s been days. Come on, I’m ready.”

Antony leaned forward and reached out a hand, but he froze just before his fingers brushed Hanyu’s skin.

“You are not ready,” he said. He pulled back his hand, though his eyes stayed fixed on Hanyu’s neck. “You just got up. You haven’t eaten in hours. I won’t have you swooning again and smearing that medicine all over my sheets.”

“I won’t-”

“Anyhow, I need to go. I have things to do.” Antony got up from the bed so abruptly that Hanyu almost lost his balance and fell off himself.

The god snatched up the lid of the little pot and started trying to screw it back into place. However, as Hanyu saw with mounting alarm, his hands were shaking a little and the lid clattered uselessly without sealing shut. Antony cursed and redoubled his efforts.

Fear twisted Hanyu’s belly as he watched his master grow more agitated. He held out his hands in appeal.

“P-please, my lord, allow me,” he begged.

Antony looked up at him and smiled, equal parts sheepish and strained, as he surrendered the little jar.

“Sorry,” the god said as Hanyu twisted the lid easily into place. “Foolish to get annoyed at jars at my age. Anyhow, I’ll see you soon. Do as you please, as usual.”

When Antony pulled on his boots and left the room, Hanyu couldn’t help feeling that his master was fleeing again.

Chapter Text

ANTONY’S POV

If Antony’s heart could still pound, he had no doubt it would have been thundering away as he fled his rooms. As it was, his head was light and there was a roaring in his ears that made his skull feel as wide and empty as his gnawing belly.

The hell of it was that there was no reason for this reaction. Hanyu had come right out and offered him a chance to feed. He should have just accepted. It was what the damn brat was for. He had drunk from humans countless thousands of times, and from Hanyu himself often enough, with no ill effects for the creatures beyond a little lightheadedness and the need to drink some extra water.

Except that the last time he had fed from Hanyu, the boy had gone heavy and boneless against him, and for a brief, appalling moment he had thought Oh no not again please not this I can’t not again…

And now, the thought of drinking from Hanyu made him want to throw up, and curl into a ball and hide, and run away screaming. That last idea, he supposed, was close enough to what he’d just done.

When he looked at the day’s events rationally, he understood that Hanyu’s near-collapse had been due more to the boy’s own overwhelming emotions and weariness than the tiny taste of blood he’d taken. But every time he drew close to Hanyu’s willingly offered throat, rationality took a screaming leap right off the side of the ship.

He hadn’t consciously planned to go anywhere at all, but it was a few hours before dawn and he found his feet taking him abovedeck, then turning towards the wheel.

Theo.

Sure enough she was standing there, arguing with her new woman in Surgish while one of her older offerings stood by and watched with mingled shock and disapproval. The man dropped down when he caught sight of Antony, which brought Theodora’s half of the argument to an abrupt halt as she looked up and waved at him in greeting. The barbarian woman kept yelling for a few moments longer. By the time she subsided, Antony had joined them.

“What’s wrong?” Theodora asked.

If I ever need a diplomacy chief, I should definitely appoint her. She’s so delicate about things.

Antony had been ready to spill all his troubles to her, but he felt self-conscious with the glaring woman and prostrate man both able to see and hear everything.

“I see your desert flower is as sweet and tender as ever,” he said instead, gesturing to the woman.

“Gyuri,” Theodora corrected. “She thinks I should teach her to steer and navigate like the others. I think if I did that, she would drive us into the first reef she could find.”

Judging from the way the woman was glowering at him, Antony couldn’t help agreeing with Theodora’s assessment. What bewildered him was the fond, proud way she said it.

“Get up, Joji,” Theodora instructed. “Antony, you remember my friend Joji?”

He did not. But he nodded to the old man and smiled politely. Judging by the startled look Joji shot back, his smile looked about as convincing as it felt.

Damn. He needed to talk to Theodora without a crowd. But that was always difficult on this cursed floating matchbox, and right now his thoughts were short and frayed and it was hard to concentrate. He sent a pleading look at Theodora, but she just stared back in confusion. Of course. For all her many virtues as a friend, Theodora had never been able to grasp unspoken requests.

“If it please my lord,” Joji said suddenly with a shallow bow, “I could steer while you and Lord Antony return Gyuri to her room.”

Antony could have hugged him.

Theodora, bless her, seemed to take the hint. She looked from Joji to Antony and back again, then smiled broadly.

“Thank you, Joji. What would I do without you?”

The man preened happily under her praise as if he were no older than Hanyu, then Theodora said a few words in Surgish and put a gentle hand on Gyuri’s arm. The woman jerked away from Theodora’s touch, spat something back at her, then marched stiffly ahead with her chin raised high. Theodora and Antony followed in her indignant wake.

“She understands more Tacian than she lets on,” Theodora said.

She was speaking the long, alliterative words of their own mother tongue. Antony was overwhelmed by a sudden wave of emotion at the sound of his native language, which was ridiculous. He heard it all the time. But right now, in his current state, in the low, husky voice of his lifelong best friend…

“All right,” Theodora said, interrupting his thoughts. “I’m not wrong. Something’s upsetting you.”

“Yes.” Antony drew in a jagged breath he didn’t need, simply for the moment it gave him to get his thoughts in order. “I think I broke.”

“You… broke?”

He quickly recounted what had happened after he caught Hanyu digging in his chest, then finished with, “And now I get frightened every time I try to drink from him and so I’m going to starve to death because I’m an idiot.”

“How long has it been since you ate?” Theodora asked.

“I had had a sip when he slumped over on me, but other than that…” He racked his mind. “Five days?”

“Oh. That’s not good.” They’d arrived at her door. Gyuri pulled it open and marched through. She tried to slam it in their faces, but Theodora put out a hand and stopped it easily, gesturing for Antony to enter ahead of her. Gyuri huffed and stalked away.

Antony hadn’t expected to find Theodora’s tiny common area empty. There was always an offering or two. How she endured the crowd was beyond him. Still, he was surprised to see five men sitting at the huge table that dominated the space.

“… Prince Nanae raised her blade and- Is that you, Theo?” One of the men, sitting with his back to the door, closed a book he had been reading from. “Sorry for moving ahead without you, but Kenta was whining to hear how the battle ended and you did say you’d read it a hundred times, so-”

The man’s voice broke off as the others began wriggling out of their chairs to make their bows, and he whirled around and paled at the sight of Antony.

“Sit down, everyone,” Theodora instructed. “And Bunta, don’t worry about it. I’ve told you that you don’t have to wait for me.”

Theodora gestured Antony to a seat at the table. He accepted, then descended into a moment of panic as he tried to deduce the right amount of eye contact he should make with the wide-eyed man across from him. Should he avoid looking at him entirely? No, probably not… He glanced up and offered a smile that he knew was forced and unconvincing. The man’s eyes widened further and dropped to his own lap. Good work, Antony. You idiot.

By this time, Theodora had seated herself next to him. She looked around at the table full of silent men.

“Lord Antony needs to eat,” she said, blunt as ever. “Would one of you be willing to share some blood with him?”

“I can.” It was Kenta the worm boy, all round eyes and round face. He darted a look at Antony, ducked his head shyly, then spoke again with his voice lowered. “Is… forgive me for prying, my lord, but is Hanyu all right? He seemed pale and quiet yesterday, and he was slower than usual when we were exercising, and now…”

Antony seized gratefully onto the lie. “He’s having some trouble sleeping through the night if I’m in my rooms, so he’s not getting enough rest. It’ll be all right. I just don’t want to make it worse by feeding from him.”

Kenta’s face cleared. “Oh! I see. That’s kind of you, my lord.”

Antony’s stomach twisted guiltily. Kind indeed.

“Is it all right if I take it from a cup?” he asked. He wasn’t sure whether he should be seeking permission from Kenta or Theodora.

Kenta was nodding, but Theodora shook her head. “We’d have to make a big cut instead of just two little punctures.”

“It’s just that I'm very hungry,” Antony explained, feeling desperation clawing at his empty belly. “I don’t want to get carried away.”

He was panicking anew at the idea of closing his fangs on the worm boy’s soft, inviting neck. If he damaged Kenta, he would hurt Theodora and Hanyu at the same time. Anyhow, the boy was sweet to worry about Hanyu. He didn’t want to harm him.

“How about this?” Theodora asked. “You can drink from his arm instead of his neck. If you take too much, I’ll pull you off. All my friends can stay here and watch and tell me if they think it’s gone on too long.”

Antony hated the idea, but his aching body was clamoring too excitedly at the idea of food for him to argue any longer. “All right.”

Kenta got up and approached Antony. Theodora gave him her seat, then stood behind Antony with her hands on his shoulders.

The touch relaxed him in ways he didn’t expect. Theodora was a passable fighter at best; in a real brawl, he could beat her as long as he had room to maneuver and stayed out of her grasp. But there was no denying that when it came to simple brute strength, she outclassed him easily. Those big, callused hands could yank him out of his seat in an instant, and he had no doubt that she would do exactly that if he posed a threat to one of her precious offerings.

He wasn’t going to hurt this boy. He couldn’t. Theo wouldn’t let him.

He took the offered arm and bit carefully down.

Kenta’s blood was quite ordinary compared to Hanyu’s. But as Antony took his first swallow, he couldn’t think when anything had been so fucking delicious.

He took three greedy gulps, savoring the warmth and weight of the liquid as it slid down his throat. He could have kept going. He could have drained the boy dry as a snakeskin and followed him up with half a dozen others. But Theodora's hands tightened in warning, pulling his mind back to itself.

Antony swallowed a fourth, more restrained mouthful, then drew back.

“Thank you,” he breathed.

“My pleasure, my lord.” Kenta’s voice was shaky but cheerful.

Theodora gave Antony’s shoulders a rough squeeze, probably intended for reassurance, then crossed to kneel beside Kenta’s chair. The boy protested faintly at the impropriety, but she hushed him and set to work binding up the wound Antony had left.

Antony himself, dizzy with food and distress, found himself watching hazily even though it made him feel voyeuristic to see the worshipful way Kenta gazed down at his rough-mannered master.

It wasn’t just Kenta, either. Theodora was looking up at her boy with such naked affection on her face that it made Antony hurt for her. She loved them all so fucking much. How did she stand it?

“How’s Chujiro?” he found himself asking.

Theodora didn’t look up from her work, but Kenta raised his eyes to meet Antony’s. The boy looked sad, and Antony cursed himself in every language he knew.

“He can’t get out of bed very often. Julia doesn’t think it will be long now.” Theodora kept her head bent over Kenta’s arm, hiding her eyes. “He’s comfortable, though, and one of us is always with him. Thank you for asking.”

“Of course.” Antony suppressed an urge to squirm in his seat. There were so many pairs of eyes in this room, but not quite enough to make for a proper crowd and let him relax into a public persona.

“You should come visit him after Hanyu’s had his breakfast,” Theodora said. “I want to get to know that boy of yours better.”

For the briefest instant, Antony felt his hackles rise as his mind flashed back to Marcus’ request. Then he remembered that this was Theodora, and Theodora didn’t even like men, and he was being insane.

“That sounds nice,” he said, hoping no one had noticed his brief lapse. He got to his feet and started making his way to the door. “I’ll head back now. Thank you for the… hospitality.”

“You can drink from me again if Hanyu’s not feeling better soon!” Kenta offered. Then the boy flushed and glanced at Theodora. “With my lord’s permission, of course.”

“Antony, wait.” Theodora rose to her feet, fixing him with a worried look. “We need to talk about this.”

“Sorry, Theo, no time.” Antony waved as he reached the door. “We’ll be back soon!”

He didn’t want to sit there and yammer about his feelings while half the humans on the ship blinked owlishly at him, even if he was speaking his own language and they didn’t understand it. They would still be there. Anyhow, he had eaten. It was all right now.

He reached his own doorway just as the bell announcing the sunrise started to ring.

Chapter Text

HANYU’S POV

Hanyu had felt shy about going to visit Lord Theodora when Antony announced their destination. Kenta seemed happy with her, and she had been nice to Hanyu himself and wonderfully sweet and forgiving with old Chujiro, but her face was so forbidding that Hanyu couldn’t help feeling apprehensive at the idea of going into her inner sanctum.

Antony’s slight form beside him quelled the feeling a little, even as the god stopped before a door and reached for the handle. He wished he could grab Antony’s hand and squeeze, but even without that contact, it was impossible not to feel a little reassured by divine protection.

As soon as Hanyu stepped through Lord Theodora’s door, his fizzing nerves subsided into a strange, tilting sense of déjà vu. He felt as if he were back in the temple.

The sitting room, if it could be called that, looked for all the world like a dormitory’s common area. There was a single enormous cabinet fixed to one wall. Other than that, the room was dominated by a large table with a dozen chairs bolted around it. The chairs contained three men, reading and chatting with each other. They barely glanced up when the door opened, as if there tended to be a great deal of coming and going from this room, but their eyes widened and they scrambled to their feet when they saw who had entered.

One pair of startled eyes, Hanyu saw with delight, belonged to Kenta.

“My Lord Antony! You really did come back!” Kenta jumped up from his spot at the table with a bright smile and hurried over to make his bow.

Back? Antony must have visited Lord Theodora sometime last night.

“Hello, Kenta,” Antony greeted.

Hanyu noticed that his master sounded a little uncomfortable. Maybe it was because Kenta was smiling so much? He’d said before that he hadn’t liked Hanyu’s smiling at first.

“Lord Theodora is sitting with Chujiro,” Kenta said once the god had bidden him back to his feet. “I can take you there if you like!”

As they followed Kenta past the table, Hanyu stole a glance down at the other men. He had hoped to see Bunta, but these men were both significantly older than the friendly escort. Maybe he would see him tomorrow when he went to exercise.

He was expecting to enter another room when they passed through the doorway, but instead he found himself in a tight hallway swathed in heavy curtains. He was confused for a second, then realized that the curtains were dividing the room into multiple smaller spaces.

Lord Theodora’s rooms were, if anything, bigger than Antony’s, and she had four instead of two. However, the multitude of little curtain chambers seemed to press in on Hanyu. He felt a little claustrophobic until they finally pushed through a curtain and entered one of the rooms.

It was a little bigger than he had expected. There were lanterns placed around the room in addition to the torches fixed to the one wooden wall, keeping the space cheerfully well-lit. There was a big soft chair, in which Lord Theodora was sitting and reading aloud from a fat little book. Her voice was a flat, undifferentiated drone, like Hanyu’s classmates reciting the names of the kings.

“ … as the rogue plundered his all-too-willing mouth, the prince felt a delicious stirring and his flesh scepter began to rise like a serpent coaxed from its basket by- Oh, Antony, thank goodness.” She looked up from the book and sighed. “Can you believe what this lecher makes me read?”

“Oh, we all know you love that kind of thing,” Antony said.

“Anyway, it’s hard to get lecherous when you read it like that, my lord,” Chujiro scolded from the bed.

The old man didn’t seem well. His skin had a yellowish tint that Hanyu didn’t think was entirely due to the lamplight, and there was a sharp wheeze behind his voice when he spoke. But at least for the moment, he seemed to be aware of Lord Theodora and his warm relationship with her, and that felt like the more important thing.

“All right, Master Orator, how would you read about flesh scepters?” Lord Theodora’s voice was cheerful, but when she leaned forward to take Chujiro’s hand Hanyu couldn’t help but think that there was a little desperation in the move. She must have wanted to cling to this moment of clarity while it lasted.

“You should set Hanyu to work at that,” Antony said. “He reads gorgeously.”

Hanyu flushed at the praise, and now that Lord Theodora was looking at him, he realized he’d been so caught up in watching her with Chujiro that he’d forgotten to bow. Of course, Kenta wasn’t bowing either, and maybe no one had even noticed, and it felt a little silly to do it at this point…

What was the worst that could happen if Lord Theodora took offense? He’d get caned again? That wasn’t a particularly off-putting prospect. Hanyu stayed standing.

“That’s wonderful!” Lord Theodora didn’t look offended by his lapse in propriety. She slipped from the chair and knelt by the bed, not relinquishing the old man’s hand. “Would you like that, Chujiro?”

“It’s bound to be better than your reading.” Chujiro patted her hand, and she laughed.

“Do you want to take a turn, Hanyu?” Lord Theodora asked. “I don’t generally put guests to work, but now I’m curious to hear you.”

Hanyu felt his blush deepen. First he’d had to read for someone who’d heard Masaya’s poems, now he had to read for the person she’d written them for?

Kenta was already herding him forward. “Oh yes! He’s wonderful, my lord! You’ll be so impressed!”

Before he knew it, Hanyu was settled into the chair with the tale of flesh scepters in his hands.

He was tempted to read it overdramatically, making a joke out of the terrible metaphors and featureless characters, but this book was Chujiro’s choice. The old man found genuine enjoyment from it, he assumed, and so he resolved to read it with respect.

He pitched his voice low and breathy for the remainder of the love scene, and then built the intensity as the post-coital lovers got into an inane argument.

“The prince felt his heart shattering inside his chest. “You only wanted to bed me to settle a bet? Is that all I am to you? I never want to see you again!” He shoved the rogue, almost spraining his wrist when he pushed against the chiseled diamond-hard abdomen-”

Hanyu was almost shouting by the time a hand tapped his knee and interrupted him.

“He’s asleep,” Antony said. “You can stop now.”

Hanyu realized with a jolt of horror that Lord Antony, Lord Theodora, and Kenta were all sprawled on the floor while he sat in the only chair. He jolted to his feet, almost stepping on Antony’s other hand in his haste. The god jerked away with a squawk of protest. Hanyu flushed even hotter.

“I- forgive me, I didn’t-”

“Your reading is exquisite,” Lord Theodora interrupted. “Thank you. That was a real pleasure for him, and for us.”

Antony scooted closer to her to make room, and Hanyu knelt gratefully at his master’s side. As long as he wasn’t walking, he wouldn’t step on anybody.

“Reading aloud seems to help him relax,” Lord Theodora went on. “He doesn’t have to worry about remembering who we are or what’s going on from one moment to the next or even following the story, so he can just let go. It’s the same with Kenta’s singing.”

“I told you you’d be impressed with Hanyu, my lord!” Kenta enthused. Lord Theodora smiled at him.

“You were right, I am.” She turned her smile on Hanyu. “I’ve been impressed with him since the first time Antony mentioned him to us.”

Hanyu swelled with mingled pleasure and shyness. It still dazzled him a little to think that he was a topic of conversation among the gods. “You’re too kind, my lord.”

“Not at all.” Her gaze drifted back to the old man on the bed, whose snores had a piercing, whistling sharpness that made Hanyu nervous. “You were kind to read for him. Do you think… would you do it again sometime? It would… have to be sometime… soon.”

Her voice didn’t waver, but Hanyu suspected that the long pauses in her speech were the only reason for that.

He wanted to wrap a blanket around her shoulders and bring her tea and offer to do all her chores, the way he used to do when one of his friends was sad. But Lord Theodora didn’t suffer from the cold and couldn’t drink tea and she didn’t have to do chores. None of his skills were useful right now.

Why hadn’t the temple trained them for this? He was glad that he knew how to dance and sing and offer sexual service (even if the offer would never be accepted) and take a punishment and make a presentable bow, but surely they could have included a lesson or two about what to do if a god seemed like they might be about to start crying!

“Oh, Theo, I’m sorry.” Antony wrapped his arm around the other god’s broad shoulders and pulled her close.

She didn’t cry, but she did lean against Antony and heave a deep sigh.

“I hope I’m not being selfish by keeping him here. I know he’d have more expert care with Felix. But Julia comes by every few days and she hasn’t said that he needs to move yet.”

“Move where?” Hanyu blurted. As soon as the words left his mouth, he clapped his hand over it as if he could stuff them back in. “Oh! Forgive me, my lord- um, lords?”

“It’s all right.” Lord Theodora shot him a wan smile over Antony’s head. “Felix and Julia keep a few rooms for humans who need constant care.”

“I didn’t know they were still doing that,” Antony said softly.

Lord Theodora gave a soggy scoff and rolled her eyes. “Of course they are! What else are we supposed to do? Tip everybody over the railing once their knees go bad?”

Antony didn’t respond, but Hanyu could see his flinch. He felt a swell of defensive indignation on his god’s behalf, but then he saw that Lord Theodora’s face was wet and the feeling evaporated.

Oh no! No more ‘might’ or ‘maybe,’ she was crying. Lord Theodora, Wave-Tamer, Wind-Summoner, Mighty of Arm and all that, crying hard and silent, right in front of him.

“I’d love to read for him some more, my lord,” Hanyu said in a rush. “Anytime you want. Oh… with my master’s permission, of course! Sorry, my lord, I didn’t mean to presume.”

Antony waved his hand dismissively and Hanyu forced himself to swallow the rest of the words crowding each other to spill out of his mouth.

“Of course you can come,” Antony said. “I’ll escort you whenever you like. If I’m out, you’re also allowed to go with Theodora or any of her offerings as long as you leave me a note.”

Hanyu nodded. “Thank you.”

Everything was quiet for a moment, the silence disturbed only by the old man’s snoring and the faint sounds of Lord Theodora’s other offerings going about their day. Lord Theodora herself kept glancing up at Antony, then at Hanyu, then down at the floor again.

“May I steal Hanyu for a few minutes, my lords?” Kenta asked suddenly. “I want to show him my room.”

Kenta had been so quiet that Hanyu had almost forgotten he was in the room. Now his friend ducked his head shyly as all eyes turned his way.

“Of course,” Lord Theodora said. “Antony?”

Lord Antony looked less enthusiastic- almost panicked, even- but he nodded. “All right.”

“Thank you, my lord!” Kenta bowed deeply, then scrambled to his feet and helped Hanyu up as well.

They passed into the makeshift hallway, then Kenta pulled him into one of the little curtain rooms. This one was smaller than Chujiro’s, but it was certainly more space than either of them had ever had to themselves in the temple. There was a bed bolted to the floor and a narrow dresser bolted to the wooden wall with a light blazing above it. Hanyu found himself a little impressed that all of this belonged to Kenta.

“It’s wonderful,” Hanyu said earnestly.

“Oh? Oh, the room!” Kenta flopped down on the bed and patted the mattress next to him in invitation. “I didn’t actually want to show you my room. Well, I did, but mostly I thought our masters wanted to talk to each other alone.”

Dammit. He was probably right, and Hanyu hadn’t noticed at all. Asao would have seen what his master wanted. So would stupid beautiful Eiji. And, apparently, Kenta.

Oh, well. As long as one of them had noticed, he supposed the result was the same. And now he would get to spend some time alone with his friend! The thought sent warmth and ease all through him.

He enjoyed Antony’s presence more than anything, and Lord Theodora was surprisingly pleasant as well, but it was relaxing to be with a mere mortal like himself, someone whose history he knew and who had no authority over him. He didn’t have to worry about appropriate behavior- not that he was terribly good at remembering to worry about that around Antony- or being respectful, he could just launch right into the things he wanted to say.

“Did you know that Masaya wrote love poems for Lord Theodora?” he asked. He’d been waiting all day to tell Kenta about that.

“No!” Kenta’s jaw fell open and his eyes bulged, just like Hanyu had imagined. “Really?”

Hanyu nodded. “Lord Antony told me.”

“For Lord Theodora? That’s amazing! But I suppose it makes sense.”

Hanyu still wasn’t quite sure that it did, but Kenta looked so proud and pleased that he managed to keep his mouth shut for once.

“He said she was only fifteen when she wrote them,” he said instead. “And that they were terrible. He said she was also bad at reading aloud. He said I was better, even though I dropped the book on his face.”

Kenta hesitated for a moment, still smiling, then pressed on. “You seem to be getting along very well lately.”

Hanyu’s grin spread so wide that his cheeks ached. “It’s been so good. I can’t even believe how good it is.”

Kenta squealed and bounced a little on the mattress. “Tell me everything!”

“He let me sleep in his bed last night. Only sleeping, but it was wonderful! And he fusses over me and fixes my hair and talks to me all the time.”

“He seems so grouchy. Does he ever stop glaring, with those pale eyes looking right through you? I’d be scared to death of him.” Kenta gave a theatrical little shudder.

“Oh, that’s just how he is,” Hanyu said with a dismissive wave of his hand that almost caught his friend’s shoulder. “He glowers and grumbles all the time, but it doesn’t mean anything. He’s only really been angry with me once, and I deserved it.”

“Really? What did you do?”

Hanyu felt the now-familiar sick twist of shame, but quickly recounted the story of the chest and the robe and the god’s ready forgiveness. By the time he finished speaking, Kenta’s eyes were wide and round.

“He carried you to bed?” he blurted. “That’s so romantic! You must have died!”

“I almost did,” Hanyu said. “He’s so strong! I love how easy it is for him to pick me up. I even like how cold his skin is. And those eyes! I know you think they’re creepy, but I think… gods, I hardly know what I think. He’s so beautiful I could just cry all the time.”

“Don’t you already?” Kenta asked, and they both laughed.

It was so nice to talk about this with someone who could be uncomplicatedly happy for him. He could get excited. He could be silly. He could squeal and rhapsodize all he wanted without worrying that he would make Kenta resent him.

It was, he realized guiltily, very unlike talking with Asao lately.

“Do you think he’s going to use you?” Kenta asked excitedly, and Hanyu hesitated.

“Everyone says he doesn’t bed humans,” he said. It was a little shocking to hear the words that rattled around his head all the time pass his lips. “But I want him so much I can’t even think straight sometimes. I think I’m falling in love with him, Kenta.”

Hanyu whispered the last words, hardly able to believe them even as he said them. It was too bold, too fast, too… everything. Too everything.

Kenta, however, just started laughing.

“Hanyu, I could tell that from the moment you started talking about him,” he finally managed. “You’re practically floating, and when you say his name? It sounds like singing.”

Damn. Was he really so obvious? Did everyone know? Did Antony? That was a mortifying thought.

“What about you?” Hanyu demanded. He would never be good at subtly changing the subject, so he might as well barrel right ahead. “Lord Theodora seems so nice. Are you happy with her?”

“I am,” Kenta said. “It’s like... you know the families in books? It feels like that here. I always thought that even in personal service there would be so much… distance from the gods. And you know how timid I am. I thought there would be these mighty beings waiting to swoop down on me at the least provocation and I would be so terrified all the time.”

Hanyu had to admit that his own expectations had not been all that different.

“But it’s not like that. Lord Theodora puts herself on the rotation for cleaning the common area and the washrooms, and she sits with Chujiro all the time and bathes him and changes his clothes when he soils them, and her room is the same size as mine. And she wants me to do and learn about whatever I like- not to make me more pleasing, but just because I like it. I look at the others and I feel… I don’t know. I wonder who I’ll be after forty years of living like this, and I’m actually excited to find out. Does that make sense?”

Hanyu nodded. “Her offerings all seem so confident.”

“They are! Our lord teaches us all to steer the ship. The whole ship! How could you not become confident with this behemoth under your hand? And sometimes the others don’t even bow or they call Lord Theodora by her name, and she just… lets them.”

“I’m allowed to call Lord Antony… well, Antony,” Hanyu confided. “In private, at least.”

Kenta shook his head wonderingly. “It’s not at all what I thought it would be. I know we’re in the middle of the ocean and there’s monsters to fight and our masters could break us without even trying, but… I feel stronger and safer than I did in the temple. Is that mad?”

“Not at all.” Not when he had Lord Theodora, who would pick fights for him and keep him forever and cry for him when he got too old to know her.

“If it wasn’t for Asao I’d wonder why the temple bothers with polishing us up so much,” Kenta said. “I guess some masters care about all of that.”

Asao. Asao and his bruises and his pallor, Asao and Lord Marcus. Asao who should be the one squealing with Kenta about the happy surprises of life with Antony.

Hanyu didn’t care to pursue that train of thought. He cast about for a new topic.

“What happened to your arm?” he asked, pointing at the bandage he’d noticed on his friend’s arm.

“Oh, that?” Kenta looked down at it as if he’d forgotten. “That’s where Lord Antony drank from me this morning.”

Chapter Text

ANTONY’S POV

The last thing Antony wanted was to be left alone with Theodora. She was going to ask him about his issues with feeding, and that wasn’t something he cared to discuss.

But Hanyu looked so damn pleased at the chance to go spend some time with his friend, Antony couldn’t say no. Anyhow, what justification would he give? He supposed technically he didn’t have to justify his orders to Hanyu, but he would have felt like an asshole, barking commands without any kind of explanation. Besides, Theodora would certainly have demanded a good reason.

He expected her to pull away from him as soon as the humans were gone, but she stayed tucked against his side. Maybe she really did just need someone to hold her?

“Hey Antony?”

Shit. She was going to demand an answer about the feeding. He’d already been so soft before her today and seen her so soft in turn. How could he stand to bare even more of himself?

Anyhow, surely she could guess well enough what had happened when he tried to feed from Hanyu. She had been there all along.

He owed her thanks for her help with his feeding problem. He didn’t owe her answers about why he had needed it, certainly not if she had already figured it out herself and simply wanted to make him say it out loud. He tensed and prepared himself to brush her off.

“Antony,” she said again, low and formal, “I think I’ve been a bad friend to you. For a long time now.”

It was such an unexpected statement that he didn’t manage a response for far too long. She stayed pressed to his side, and finally she seemed to give up on getting an answer from him and simply plowed ahead.

“Marcus is not good for you,” she said. “He treats you badly, and he influences you to treat others badly and look the other way when he does it, too. You deserve better. I’ve spent centuries waiting for you to realize that on your own and getting angry with you when you didn’t, but I never actually said it. That wasn’t fair of me. I’m sorry.”

Antony gawped at her in mute astonishment. Where was this coming from? What did Marcus have to do with anything?

And even if there had been some kind of warning that this was going to be the topic of their conversation, it was so wildly untrue that he wasn’t even sure where to start his arguments. Sure, Marcus could be rough and angry, but only when Antony deserved it. Antony was the one who pressed his buttons and manipulated him. Antony could be a raging asshole all on his own without anybody’s influence.

Oh no. Had he manipulated Theo, too? Had he made himself out to be the innocent one in all their fights, so that now even his best friend couldn’t see things clearly?

“That’s not-” he started weakly, then rallied. He had caused this misunderstanding, and he needed to clear it up. “I’m not innocent in anything. I promise that anything that’s wrong with our relationship, I caused just as much as he did. Probably more. You know how I can be. It’s hard enough for you to put up with me, and you don’t have to put up with me in bed!”

“I don’t like that you think that.” Theodora pressed closer to his side. “Do you really think I’ve just been putting up with you for a thousand years? Even before we were cursed? You’re my best friend in the world. I love you. I love to be with you. Your lover should feel the same.”

“He does! I didn’t mean it like that!” Dammit, why was Antony getting tied in knots like this? He sounded like Hanyu. “Just- it’s complicated.”

“I don’t think it should be.” Theodora emitted a noise that was half a sigh and half a groan. “I have a theory and it might be wrong, but I should have mentioned it a long time ago so I’m mentioning it now. You know I’m not good at people and intrigue. I never was. I wouldn’t have made it without you, back home in your father’s court.”

That was true enough.

“But I think Marcus is good at those things. I think he came on your ship because he knew you were attracted to him, and he knew he would just have to wait until you’d been hurt enough that he could start in on you and you would think you deserved whatever he did to you, and-”

“That’s ridiculous!” Antony exploded. He pulled back so that he could glare at her. “Our relationship is not some kind of… conspiracy!”

Now who was treating him badly? At least Marcus thought that Antony was capable of inspiring love without ulterior motives!

“I might be wrong.” Theodora shrugged. “That doesn’t change how things are now. He’s not good to you. When the three of us meet, he talks to you like you’re stupid and weak and can’t do anything right without his guidance.”

“He doesn’t- that’s not how it is. He always acknowledges my authority in public.”

“I don’t know!” Theodora looked miserable and tearful and it tamped down Antony’s irritation. “I told you, I’m bad at reading people! But it seems to me that he calls you ‘lord’ like he’s mocking you. I know I might be wrong.”

Of course. He couldn’t get too upset with her. She probably saw the way they bantered and understood it as cruelty. She’d been a literal-minded person since the cradle. She just didn’t understand the way their relationship worked.

“I realize that it isn’t the kind of relationship you and I have, or the kind you would choose for yourself,” he said. “But it works for us. It doesn’t mean he’s not good to me.”

Theodora looked at him despairingly. “He’s certainly not good to his offerings, and he’s got his claws so deep in you that you allow it.”

“It’s not my place to allow or disallow,” Antony snapped. “They’re his. He can do as he pleases with them. That’s been the rule since we started taking offerings.”

“A rule you could change whenever you liked.”

“I… it’s not that simple.”

Theodora was right. She didn’t know anything about politics.

“You at least used to fight with him about it,” she argued. “Remember? But he escalated his behavior so slowly that I’ll bet you don’t even remember the first time he killed one.”

“I do!”

It had been about six hundred years ago, and Marcus had cried about it. He had sworn it was an accident. Antony had comforted him and told him over and over that it wasn’t his fault, that he knew exactly how terrible it felt, that of course he didn’t think any less of him.

The memory sat uneasily now, when he thought of Asao’s poor battered body and his own acceptance that none of Marcus’ offerings would survive their six years with him.

He might remember the first death. What he didn’t remember was when it had become the rule rather than the exception.

“Well.” Theodora interrupted his dark thoughts. “Today isn’t just to talk about what he does to them. I want to talk about what he does to you. Your relationship is your own affair, of course, and you know it better than I do and that’s why I didn’t speak before. But I think I was wrong not to say that I don’t like the way he treats you, and I wish you would shove him onto your brother’s ship, if not into a sunbeam, and love someone kinder.”

After everything I’ve done, do you really think I deserve someone kinder?

Antony had to swallow the words down as soon as they rose in his mind. That would just give credence to her argument that Marcus was being unkind, and it wasn’t true. She simply didn’t understand their dynamic.

“You have no right to come barging in and explaining my own relationship to me.” He kept his voice low and level, but he knew from her flinch that she could feel the anger in it. “If you don’t like Marcus, that’s fine, but you should be happy for me. I’m finally in an appropriate relationship.”

“How do you define appropriate?”

Her low, calm tone was infuriating. She was there. She saw! He’d bawled his fucking eyes out all over her, and she had the gall to ask what he meant by ‘appropriate?’

“One that can last!” he snapped. “I’m not going to have to go through all that pain ever again, and you would be happy about that if you really-”

He shut his jaw with a snap, trapping the words cared about me before they could escape. He knew he would have regretted them. Those words weren’t fair, and they would hit Theo like a knife in the belly, and the look on her face as she heard them would haunt him for centuries.

They were both quiet for a long moment. He didn’t know if Theodora knew what he’d been about to say, but she’d clearly felt the heat of his anger. She gave a sigh that seemed ripped right from her bones.

“I don’t want to fight.” Theodora looked so exhausted and sad that Antony’s heart softened against his will. “I’ve told you what I think, so I won’t say any more about it. Thank you for listening.”

Antony felt as chaotic and mixed up as he had when he came to her for food in the early hours of the morning. Usually Theo was the one who settled him. Why was he so rattled now?

“I need to go,” he said, getting to his feet.

He couldn’t stand to be around her for another second, and if the look she darted at him was any indication, she knew it. He softened a little more.

“But I meant what I said,” he added. “I’ll bring Hanyu back to read some more. Soon.”

“Thank you.” Theodora looked up at him, her face fuller of appeal than he’d seen it… when? Ever, maybe.

He couldn’t bear to hear whatever it was she was about to say.

“Where am I likely to find my runaway?” he asked.

Theodora deflated, her face falling, but she answered him gamely enough. “He’ll be two rooms- well, curtains… I’ll just show you. We can leave Chujiro if it’s only for a moment, I suppose.”

She seemed ill at ease with the suggestion, her gaze darting back to the lightly snoring figure on the bed. Antony shrugged.

“I can always just bellow for him. Maybe it’ll finally get me some respect.”

Theodora smiled. “It’s nice to see that he’s not frightened of you. He’s been good for you, Antony. And I can tell you’re being good to him as well.”

Antony thought guiltily of a banished cot, silent shudders, neat red stripes.

“I hope so.”

But when Hanyu came scurrying to answer his call, the boy looked as wan and woeful as a spurned lover from one of Theodora’s soppy ballads. So much for all her theories.

“My lord,” he intoned, and then he started to dip into a bow.

“No need for that. Let’s just go back, all right?”

“Yes, my lord.” The boy sounded so glum that Antony had to fight down an irrational urge to put a protective arm around his shoulders.

That was stupid. He probably couldn’t even reach Hanyu’s shoulders.

Still, Antony shot a glare at Kenta, who had emerged from the curtains on Hanyu’s heels. What did you do to him? The worm boy paled and stepped back.

Hanyu was quiet as they left Theodora’s anthill and traversed the hallway. Once they were back in Antony’s rooms, he couldn’t help trying to break the boy’s uncharacteristic silence.

“Well, Theodora definitely prefers you to me now. It’s not surprising, really.”

“I’m sure that’s not true, my lord.”

There was no life, no inflection in the statement. Unease stirred low in Antony’s belly.

“You earned it with all that reading.”

Silence.

“What a ridiculous book! I don’t know how you kept a straight face.”

Silence.

“It was nice of you to offer to read for him some more.”

Antony could hear the desperation in his voice and he hated himself for it. Why was he worried about this? Hadn’t he spent their first two weeks together longing for Hanyu to shut up?

“You could even go again after lunch if you wanted," he tried. "Or tomorrow. I suppose-”

“Why did you drink from Kenta instead of me?”

At first Antony was almost relieved to have the boy’s wail cut off his frantic rambling. Then the meaning of the words sank in and he tensed.

Caught.

Chapter Text

ANTONY’S POV

“Why did you drink from Kenta instead of me?”

At first Antony was almost relieved to have Hanyu’s wail cut off his frantic rambling. Then the meaning of the words sank in and he tensed.

Caught.

“Is it part of my punishment from yesterday?” Hanyu went on. “Because I beg you to do anything else, my lord, beat me or starve me or whatever pleases you. Please don’t stop drinking from me!”

Dammit. He knew he should have sworn the worm boy to secrecy. Of course Kenta had told Hanyu what happened, and of course Hanyu was taking it personally. Why shouldn’t he? It was personal, just not in the way he thought.

He was going to have to explain. He was going to have to tell Hanyu about everything that had happened, but he couldn’t even stand to think about it, no matter how many centuries dragged by, so how could he bring himself to talk about it?

And why today? He was still so drained from his fight with Theodora. There wasn’t a single bit of energy left in him to deal with a wailing human.

He didn’t have to deal with this. He had the power to make it stop, right now.

And he should! He should just snap at the boy. He should tell him that he was going to bed and they would talk about it later. Better yet, he should tell Hanyu that he did not, in fact, have to explain any of his actions to his attendant.

But Theo would be so disappointed in him.

Even more persuasive than the thought of Theo was the sight of Hanyu's big brown eyes spilling over with tears and the sound of his voice quivering with pure misery. Antony had caused all that. What was worse, Hanyu apparently thought that this was all a part of his punishment from yesterday, his stupid faux punishment that he had thought was real, another instance of Antony distressing him without meaning to, and…

Antony couldn’t bring himself to brush off the boy’s pain. He had to explain. Heaving in an unnecessary breath, he tried to envision himself breathing in patience, energy, calm.

“I- Hanyu, no, you’re not being punished,” Antony fumbled. “I told you, that was only because of Marcus. It’s not that.”

“Then why? Do I… taste bad?” The boy rushed his words out between great gulping sobs. Antony grabbed his hand and pulled him over to the sofa where they both sat. 

“Your blood is some of the best I’ve had in centuries.” Antony was startled into honesty. “That wasn’t the reason. I was worried I would hurt you. You’d just taken a caning.”

“It w-wasn’t so bad,” Hanyu snuffled around another sob.

“You weren’t injured the other day, after… everything with the chest.” Antony hoped that wasn’t too sore a subject for this already tense moment. “But you still swooned when I tried to drink. That… startled me. I didn’t want it to happen again.”

“Oh.”

They sat in pained silence for a moment while the boy’s sobs slowed and stopped. He kept up a steady flow of tears, though. And snot.

“Stay here, I’ll be right back.” Antony darted to the washroom to fetch a cloth, then returned and proffered it to his miserable attendant. “It’ll do for a handkerchief, I suppose.”

Hanyu nodded and blew his nose, loudly and wetly, into the towel. Antony flinched and hoped that the laundry would lose that one when it was time to return his washing.

“Why does it bother you so much?” he asked when Hanyu was finished clearing his nose. “Doesn’t it hurt when I feed from you?”

“Ye-es.” Hanyu drew the word out uncertainly. “But it’s not all that bad. I feel light and giddy afterwards, which is nice. And… I like how you touch me when you’re drinking from me.”

Oh.

“I see,” Antony said carefully, “I didn’t mean to wound you. In fact, that was exactly what I was trying to avoid.”

The boy gave a soggy huff of laughter and Antony felt the churning in his guts ease a little.

“I promise I’m strong enough,” Hanyu said. “Would… would you please drink from me?”

“I will.” Antony hoped he could keep that promise.

“No, I meant… now.”

Alarm thrummed through Antony’s gut.

“Right now? But I already-”

“Please, Antony?”

Dammit. How was he so weak to those two words? Paired with the boy’s low, tremulous tones and enormous teary brown eyes, they seemed designed to turn Antony into a jelly.

He looked warily at Hanyu. Was the picture of misery before him calculated to elicit exactly that reaction? Had the boy figured him out so easily?... No. Hanyu’s gaze was open and sincere. If this were an act, it would have fooled his father’s whole court, and the boy had said himself that he couldn’t act. The ridiculous creature kept all his emotions right out on his face. This was genuine.

Anyhow, Antony was still hungry.

He hoped Marcus was wrong about the humans’ needs. If they did crave domination, Antony was proving to be a pretty poor excuse of a master for Hanyu.

“All right.”

The boy’s face split into a grin bright and joyous enough that it almost quelled the fearful churning of Antony’s guts. “Thank you, my lord!”

The damn fool was actually bouncing in place on the sofa.

“For goodness sake, Hanyu, hold still!” Antony knew his tone was more waspish than the situation really called for, but his mind was suddenly crowded with visions of all the things his fangs could do to the flesh of a moving target.

Hanyu subsided, his smile barely dimmed, and tilted his chin in offering. Antony swallowed hard and inched closer.

This was fine. It was fine. He’d already had something to eat today. His control would be ironclad. He would take a single swallow to prove his point and make Hanyu feel better, and then he could pull away.

One swallow. Just one. He would push his fangs through the skin, Hanyu’s skin, and Hanyu would die he’ll die I’ll do it again I’ll shake him and scream and beg and it won’t do any good because he’ll be dead they’re dead he’ll be dead it’s all happening again no not again I can’t-

Antony reared back on the cushion. At the last moment he remembered Hanyu’s desire for touch and, instead of pushing the boy away as he had been about to do, he fisted his hands in Hanyu’s robe and rested his forehead against his attendant’s shoulder.

He breathed slow and deep. The air itself couldn’t do anything to calm him anymore, but the habit could.

Marcus was right. He was weak, he was broken, he was lazy and too indulgent of himself and others. He had no stomach for the hard, necessary things. He couldn’t push past his fears. They were controlling him- no, he was letting them control him. He was choosing this, and he should be choosing to be strong instead.

It was just a movement. Just a matter of twisting his neck and opening his mouth. He was perfectly physically capable. If he had any willpower at all, he would be able to make himself do it.

He had no willpower. He knew that. He couldn’t stop himself from talking to Hanyu or bring himself to intimidate him at the beginning. He couldn’t stop himself from trying to manipulate Marcus. He couldn’t stop his brain from cannibalizing itself on old wounds. He couldn’t eat a simple fucking meal.

His half-siblings would have laughed themselves sick if they could have seen how pathetic he would turn out. He could see the gleeful smirks now. And his father… he could just as easily imagine his disappointment, completely untainted with surprise.

Had the king always seen this core of weakness in him?

It didn’t matter. The king and all his precious trueborn children were dust by now. They couldn’t see him like this. Antony was lucky to have one of only two front-row seats to his own mental collapse.

Three, if you counted Theo, he supposed. Dammit.

“I can’t,” he managed to tell the third member of this happy trio after a too-long moment. His voice was steadier than he expected, but he was too rattled to be proud of that. “I’m sorry.”

Chapter Text

HANYU’S POV

“I can’t,” Antony choked against his shoulder. “I’m sorry.”

Hanyu, for once, managed to say nothing.

Ordinarily, he would have relished the feeling of Antony clinging to him like this. It would be even better than the feeding he was being denied.

Ordinarily, Antony wouldn’t be shaking like this.

Hanyu knew he wasn’t always the most perceptive person, but he was fairly sure that this was about more than his collapse the other day. The anguish and terror in his master’s face before he wrenched himself away from Hanyu’s neck had been physically painful to see. What could have caused his ancient, irascible god to look like that?

“What’s wrong?” Hanyu asked in a near-whisper. No answer. More shaking. He pressed ahead, giving voice to some of the half-formed ideas whirling around his head. “Antony… are you alright? Did something… did you-”

“That’s enough.”

Lord Antony’s voice was sharp and authoritative, and steadier than Hanyu would have expected. The god pulled back from him and sat up straight. His face was so stern that Hanyu couldn’t help but wonder whether he’d imagined the sight of his master shattering in front of him. He dropped his gaze in submission, feeling his cheeks heat.

“Of course. I’m sorry, my lord; I know I don’t have any right to question you.”

How many times had the priests tried to drill that into his head? He could hear Father Shu’s voice even now, level and patient: “You mustn’t ask so many questions, Hanyu. The gods will have more important things to do than explain themselves to you.”

“That isn’t what I meant.” It was Antony’s voice now, not the faraway priest’s. His tone was softer than before, even gentle. When he heard it, Hanyu dared to raise his eyes. His master met his gaze with a small, pained smile. “I don’t want questions about that, but of course you’re allowed to ask me about other things.”

“Anything?” Hanyu pressed.

He shouldn’t push. Even if his god wasn’t as upset as he’d thought he was, this clearly wasn’t the time. Still... it was intriguing to think that another of the priests’ regulations might be lifted. There were so many things he wanted to ask!

Antony considered for a moment, then nodded. “If I don’t want to answer, I won’t, but you’re allowed to ask.”

He should leave it alone. He should thank his master for the permission and leave it alone, but the questions were frothing and bubbling in his head and it was unbearable to think of not knowing the answers for even a moment longer. He shouldn’t. He shouldn’t…

“Are there other lands?” Hanyu blurted.

Antony blinked at him, long, slow blinks that made the god look terribly tired. Hanyu felt a pang of guilt for bothering him.

“Yes, lots of them.”

Hanyu had known ever since he saw the maps, but he still gave an awestruck little wiggle of joy. “Really? With people?”

“Most of them.” Antony nodded.

“And animals?”

“All of them.”

“What kinds of animals? And are the people like us? Like me, I mean, I know you’re not really people…”

Antony snorted. “If I had more energy, I’d be offended.”

Why? Surely it would be disrespectful to include a god in any kind of ‘us.’ Hanyu understood that he wasn’t Lord Antony’s equal, and he had no desire to act as if he didn’t know his place.

There was no time to worry because Antony was standing and walking away. Hanyu made to rise as well, but the god waved him off.

“I’ll be right back. One moment.”

When Antony returned, he had a handful of books. When he opened the first of them, Hanyu saw that it was full of the mysterious looping script.

“What’s that writing?” He pointed.

“Our language,” Antony said. “The… gods.”

Hanyu had guessed as much, but it was nice to have confirmation.

What surprised him was the sad, faraway look that came over Antony’s face as he went on, saying, “The language they speak back home.”

“Do you miss it? Your home, I mean?”

Antony looked up, his wistful expression dissolving into annoyance. “That one, I won’t answer. Anyhow, I didn’t bring these to show you my alphabet. Look.”

He flipped several pages, then pointed to a picture.

It was an animal that Hanyu had never seen before. It was a little like an antelope, but thick and powerful instead of delicate, with huge hooves half-covered with a fringe of hair. It also had no horns, so- not much at all like an antelope, really. Long hair, like a person’s, flowed down its neck. Its tail was made of hair as well, and so long it looked like a wig affixed to the broad hindquarters.

“That’s a horse,” Antony said. “Back home, they ride them. We tried to bring some to your city once, but camels are simply better suited to the desert.  It’s a pity. Horses aren’t quite so bad-tempered.”

Hanyu swore, right then, that he would ride one of these creatures if it was the last thing he ever did.

“Well, not bad-tempered if it’s an ordinary horse.” Antony turned the page to show another picture of a horse. This one was a little more delicate, and Hanyu thought it was much prettier than the first.

“This is an aughisky. Lovely, isn’t it? And you’ll never find a stronger or faster mount- provided it never smells saltwater. At the first whiff it’ll plunge into the water with you on its back, drown you, and eat you.”

Hanyu amended his wish. Perhaps riding camels wasn’t so bad, even if they grumbled and spat.

His master turned the page and a new creature was revealed. This animal seemed a little like a jackal, but longer, larger, with a sharp face and pricked ears.

“That’s a wolf,” Antony said. “They live and hunt in packs. They make such noises… everybody talks about the howling, which is fair. It’s thin and lonely and wild, and quite lovely in its way. But I always found their snarling more frightening. It sounds more malicious than any noise out of an animal has a right to do. Used to send chills down my spine and raise every damn hair on my body when we would go out walking or hunting.”

Antony’s reminiscences seemed less sad now. His face was less drawn and exhausted, almost animated. He was enjoying this as much as his offering. Hanyu relaxed into the sofa and the glow of pleasure and closeness permeating his whole body.

Antony picked up another book in a different alphabet. He flipped it open to a picture that gave Hanyu pause for a moment- was that an animal, or a rock? An animal, he decided when he got a sense for the legs and saw the eyes, but a very strange one. The creature had great stiff plates all over itself and horns in strange places.

“That’s a rhinoceros,” Antony said.

Hanyu gasped, “Do you ride those?” 

His master laughed. “I wouldn’t recommend it. And for goodness’ sake, don’t bring the idea up to Cloelia. She just might try it. When we first saw them- they’re not from our home, we saw them elsewhere- she decided to see if she could wrestle one to the ground barehanded.”

“Did she win?” Hanyu asked.

“Eventually, after half her bones had been smashed to splinters. She didn’t kill it, though. She said that wasn’t the point. Not that she could say much of anything by then! Thaddeus was in tears over the state of her, but Julia just rolled her eyes and said Cloelia was lucky she was pretty enough for her to bother putting back together. Those three have a strange dynamic.”

Hanyu thought that Antony and Lord Marcus’ dynamic was stranger, but he managed to keep that observation to himself until the god turned another page.

This new creature was the rhinoceros’ opposite- long and graceful, its body sleek with muscle. A closer look showed powerful forelegs with long, dangerous-looking claws, and on its pointed head- were those human ears?

“A rompo,” Antony said, pointing. “I’ve only caught glimpses of them, but my brother and some of his crew saw one out in the open eating a corpse once. They said it made little singsong noises while it ate, like it was trying to lull the body to sleep. I think it gave them a good scare.”

“They eat people?” Hanyu gasped.

The chilly trickle of fright that went down his spine was half pleasure. It was fun to be a little frightened by a faraway monster when he was tucked against Antony’s side in the god’s own cozy rooms.

“Only the ones that are already dead,” Antony said. “They’re actually quite timid. If they’re cornered, they’ll change colors like a chameleon and try to hide.”

“What’s a chameleon?”

“Oh, hold on…” Antony grabbed another book and started rifling through the pages.

This was perfect. Antony was cheerful and loose and sharing, satisfying Hanyu’s curiosity and seeming pleased to do so. What could be better? Hanyu shifted a little closer on the sofa.

Antony seemed happy with him. Happier than Lord Marcus seemed to be with Asao. Happier than Antony seemed with Lord Marcus, though that thought was probably blasphemous and definitely presumptuous.

But still. Antony had said that he liked him and called him beautiful so many times and in so many ways that Hanyu was almost beginning to believe him. So why-?

“Why haven’t you bedded me?” The words were out before Hanyu had even finished the thought.

Antony looked up from the book he was still searching, his eyes round and shocked. Hanyu felt his cheeks flush even hotter at his graceless delivery and his master’s dumbfounded state. Dammit, what was wrong with him? Antony was going to think he was aroused by animal facts! He rushed to make his question more acceptable.

“I know this isn’t really the time. It just slipped out. I’m sorry.”

“Ah.” Antony’s face relaxed a little. “All right.”

The god started to look back down at the book. No! It might not have been the best time for the question, but Hanyu had finally got up the courage to ask and he couldn’t let the moment go.

“I know you will grant the honor of your bed to anyone you want,” he pressed on, “but please, I really have been wondering, is there anything at all I could do to earn… I mean, to work towards earning… Shit.”

Antony stayed silent. If Hanyu had had to put a word to the god’s demeanor, he would have said that his master seemed frozen. It wasn’t ideal, but it also wasn’t disgust or fury, so it could be worse.

He should have stuck to the animals.

Hanyu tried to match Antony’s silence, but after a moment he couldn’t bear the tension any longer.

“Is there something I’m doing wrong or am I simply not… not beautiful enough?” he asked.

As soon as that question was out, he was crying again. He couldn’t have said whether it was from embarrassment or yearning or simply the final dregs of the misery he’d felt when he learned that his master had chosen to feed from Kenta instead of him. Whatever the reason, the tears traced hot, wet trails down his cheeks and clogged his throat until he could barely speak.

Unfortunately, he wasn’t quite sobbing yet, so he was still able to get words out just fine.

“I know I’m not much, but I swear I’ve been well-trained and if you would just give me a chance and use me one time I would do my best to make it good for you!” It all came out in a rush.

“Stop that.” Antony’s voice was gentle, but a little off.

Was the god angry? His hands were gentle as he closed the animal book and laid it aside, so perhaps not. Perhaps Hanyu hadn’t ruined everything quite yet.

“It isn’t your looks, Hanyu,” Antony said. His shoulder was stiff where it touched Hanyu’s, but his voice was thick and tired rather than angry. “You know I think you’re lovely. And I have no doubt you would be a wonderful lover. You are generous and enthusiastic and attentive to others, all of which are excellent traits in bed. But you should grant those wonderful gifts elsewhere. There isn’t even the slightest thing wrong with you, but I don’t bed humans.”

Each virtue he listed felt like a fresh slap in Hanyu’s face. Lovely, but not enough to make me want someone like you. Generous, enthusiastic, attentive, excellent traits… but not enough to make me want someone like you.

What was so bad about humans? So disgusting? It didn’t seem to bother Antony’s lover, that was for sure!

“But why not?” Hanyu wailed. “Lord Marcus uses Asao all the-”

“I am not Marcus, and I will not use you the way he uses Asao!” Antony interrupted, his voice loud and sharp enough to stop Hanyu’s own words in his mouth.

His master’s voice hit like a lash, and Hanyu felt the blood draining from his face. He realized that the god had never raised his voice to him before.

He had fucked up. Oh gods, how he had fucked up. Lord Antony was going to get rid of him for sure.

Hanyu slipped from the couch and folded into a bow. He felt a little better once he was properly positioned for an apology, but where would that apology even start? What should he beg mercy for first?

He had questioned his master’s choices regarding his use twice now today, and not even politely. He’d argued and whined when presented with the god’s clearly stated will, and he’d been so horribly demanding. If the priests had known he would ever, ever behave this way he would have been thrown out on his ass, even if they’d only had an hour to prepare his replacement.

Worse yet, he had known that Antony was upset. He had felt him shaking, seen his face. The god had been holding himself together by a thread, and, instead of making him feel better and helping him relax, Hanyu had pressed and poked and gotten upset with him, totally consumed by his own desires and giving no thought to Lord Antony’s needs. That didn’t just make him a terrible offering, it made him an unkind person.

And then he had done the worst thing of all. He had-

There was shifting and movement, and then Lord Antony’s voice was coming from so close that the god had to be kneeling right in front of him.

“I’m sorry I frightened you, Hanyu,” he said softly. “I didn’t mean to raise my voice.”

A chilly hand descended on his head. It gave his hair a light, tentative stroke, as if the god were getting ready to pull it back. Hanyu leaned into his touch, and his master’s fingers grew firmer. He kept up the gentle stroking.

It should have soothed Hanyu more than it did. But at least it centered him enough that he was able to decide what to apologize for first. All of the other problems with his behavior were trivial, Hanyu knew, compared with one.

“P-please forgive me,” he managed, his voice shaking and his head still pressed to the carpet. “It was wrong for me to compare you to the other gods, my lord. I’m grateful to belong to you. I know that you are my master, no one else, and you will use me as you see fit. I know I have no right to demand that you feed from me or bed me or anything. I am so sorry for making demands. I’m ready to accept my punishment for my ingratitude.”

He was working hard to request his well-earned punishment without actually using the forbidden words. But no punishment that he could imagine would atone if he had actually managed to make Lord Antony think that he would have preferred another master to him.

Oh gods. Oh gods. What if Lord Antony gave him away? What if he put him in the barracks with the others? What if he traded him to Lord Marcus? Hanyu would have the shouting and the punishments and worse than that, he would lose his own kindly, grumbling god because he was a horrible pushy ungrateful spoiled-

Lord Antony interrupted the spiral by speaking again, but he didn’t pause his soothing touches to Hanyu’s hair.

“I’m not going to punish you,” he said, and Hanyu’s heart sank. “You didn’t do anything wrong. I’m the one who snapped. That was uncalled for, and I am truly sorry. I’ve been very rattled for a lot of the day. That’s not an excuse, I’m just telling you why it happened. I hope if you can understand, you can… Please forgive me?”

Those words shocked Hanyu almost as much as the ones that had put him on the floor. If an offhanded ‘sorry’ now and then was different from what he expected, this was a whole other world.

He jerked up, not quite breaking his bow but crouching up higher on his elbows so he could see his master’s face and gasp out a shocked, “My lord!”

Lord Antony moved his hand down from Hanyu’s hair to gently cup his chin. Hanyu wished he wouldn’t- the flesh of his chin was slick with tears or snot or both. Still, the god maintained steady eye contact, and once Hanyu met those eyes, he was lost. There wasn’t the slightest hint of mocking or irritation there. His master looked purely remorseful, purely concerned, purely sincere.

“I was very wrong,” Lord Antony said, and even the slow seriousness of his voice could not hide how strange the words were on his tongue. “It is not acceptable for me to raise my voice with you. I frightened you, for the third day in a row. I’m bad at this. Please forgive me for that, Hanyu.”

“I…” Hanyu wasn’t often lost for words, but Antony’s apology and the appeal on his master’s face seemed to have driven them all away.

This was deeply wrong. He was not owed an apology. He should be punished severely. He had been pushing and pestering and forgetting his place in the most appalling manner. A raised voice was the least particle of what he deserved for his behavior.

Lord Antony waited. He didn’t fidget or look away. Hanyu forced himself to speak, halting and stumbling.

“That is… not necessary, my lord,” he managed. “I was wrong to ask. And… so, so wrong to imply… I want to be yours, no one else’s!”

“Thank you.” Lord Antony looked a little relieved, and Hanyu clung to the thought that he had somehow said something right. “But I still shouldn’t have shouted.”

“It wasn’t really a shout-” Hanyu clamped his mouth shut. Was he really arguing right now? What was wrong with him?

“Nevertheless. I frightened you again. Can you forgive me?”

For the second time today, Hanyu was faced with a situation his training had in no way prepared him for. They had learned a lot about how to apologize. They had never learned how to respond to a god apologizing to them.

It was the weary patience in Lord Antony’s eyes that undid him. Maybe Hanyu didn’t think his master had done anything wrong, but the god clearly did. And he looked so tired- Hanyu remembered his panic and his tremors- but he seemed perfectly ready to sit there for the rest of the day awaiting Hanyu’s judgement if necessary.

The god was not good at apologizing. The words dragged awkwardly out of him. But he just sat there and waited with his scowl lines deliberately smoothed out, as if nothing in the world mattered more than making amends with his stupid, ungrateful slave.  

Maybe not ungrateful. Maybe Hanyu had been ungrateful earlier, but right now gratitude and affection were all he could feel. His Antony was so patient and tired and grim in his remorse, and it was all so unutterably dear. The sight of him like this felt like more than one heart could hold.

“All right,” Hanyu whispered. “I forgive you.”

I love you.

Chapter Text

ANTONY’S POV

After Hanyu’s lunch arrived, Antony arranged the boy’s hair and they settled in to finish his painting. Hanyu was a little more subdued than usual, but Antony didn’t think he was angry or frightened, at least not anymore.

Antony was more relieved to have received Hanyu’s forgiveness than he cared to admit even to himself. He couldn’t stop seeing the way the boy’s face had paled before he slipped to the floor. It hadn’t been as bad as the great snooping incident, but at least that time Antony had had the comforting sense of being the wronged party. This time, he had just felt like a bully.

Theodora’s approving statement that Hanyu wasn’t afraid of him rang in his memory with a new edge of mockery.

He knew better than to behave like that. He couldn’t snap at Hanyu the way he would Marcus or Theodora, no matter how frazzled he was or how many unpleasant conversations the day had held. He mustn’t ignore how much stronger he was, how much power he held, how dependent the boy was on him for his survival, how threatening his least little movement could be. He might forget those things in a heated moment, but Hanyu wouldn’t.

He hadn’t even been that heated. He’d mostly been surprised by the direction the conversation had taken, though he knew he shouldn’t have been. The boy hadn’t exactly been coy about wanting sex with Antony, but still… today? Really?

To add to the multiple ways the day was not turning out as he would have wished, his painting was terrible. Once again, he was completely failing to capture Hanyu. This engaged pose was better than the last languid one, but it still wasn’t quite right.

“Have you ever been painted before?” he asked.

Not that it would do any good- he couldn’t exactly ask the artist for tips.

“No, my lord.” Hanyu hesitated, seemingly wondering whether he should keep speaking or not. Antony was surprised to find himself immensely relieved when the boy plunged ahead. “Gen sketched us all sometimes, though. He’s wonderful at it! Do you think he has paper and pencils here? Could I give him some?”

“Of course.” Antony was unsettlingly grateful to be asked for something he could give.

Hanyu’s smile was a little shy, but still genuine. How had Antony ever found it annoying?

He reflected on Hanyu’s answer. Maybe that was the issue. Maybe a sketch would do more to capture the motion and energy of this particular offering than a painting. He would have to give it a try. In the meantime…

“All right, I’m done.”

Hanyu broke his pose and stretched, straining his arms over his head. He looked so funny with his face screwed up in pleasure that Antony wished he had some sketching paper already.

“Antony! We broke the curse!” the boy said happily.

Antony was startled for a moment and pressed a hand to his chest- No, my heart’s not beating and my skin is still cold - then he remembered his joke from last week: every time they worked on this particular painting, Hanyu ended up bowing and crying.

Real curses didn’t break. Magic, once placed, could not be undone. You simply had to push through the remade world and deal with it, no matter how many hopeless tears you cried or how hard you wished.

If wishes were fishes, Thad would die of joy. He’d forgotten that Sana used to say that. Antony used to grumble that it was a stupid saying and didn’t mean anything, and Sana would say “If scowls were bowels, Antony would be a little shit,” and that was even stupider and-

Antony cut off that train of thought and focused his attention gratefully on the present. Hanyu. The painting. The ‘curse.’

“Did we really?” he asked. “I think the curse is intact. You were bowing and crying before we started.”

“But not while you painted!” Hanyu insisted.

“All right, then.” Antony rolled his eyes. “We broke the curse. We’re wizards. Hooray for us. Do you want to see the picture?”

Hanyu did, very much. A few clattering steps and he was bending over Antony to examine the canvas. One hand came down on Antony’s shoulder, impossibly large and warm.

Antony glanced up, startled, but Hanyu’s full attention was on the painting. The touch was apparently unconscious. He sighed internally and decided to allow it.

“Oh gods, it’s so beautiful!” Hanyu gasped. “How do you get the silk to wrinkle like that? And it looks like real gold! You’re amazing, Antony! I don’t really look that pretty, do I?”

“Don’t be stupid.” Antony glared at the flat, lifeless thing he’d painted. “You look much better than this.”

Dammit. He’d growled that. Why was he forever growling and snapping? Had he scared Hanyu again?

A quick glance up showed that he had not. The boy was looking down at him with fresh tears brimming in those big brown eyes but, given his beaming smile, they were probably happy tears.

“What?” Antony was still snapping, but this time Hanyu didn’t seem bothered. “You do! It’s so still and flat!”

Mischief sparked through the tears. “Well, yes, paintings usually are, my lord.”

“Oh, shut up.” Antony scowled to hide the great swell of relief he felt that Hanyu was comfortable enough to tease him. “You know what I mean. The painting makes you look boring.”

“No it doesn’t! I look like I’m listening to a story!”

“Maybe that’s the problem: your mouth is shut.”

For a moment Antony was afraid that the joke had cut too close to Hanyu’s insecurities, but the boy giggled and Antony relaxed again.

“If there was a problem, it would probably be that,” Hanyu said. “But there isn’t a problem. It’s beautiful!”

Against his will, Antony’s lips were tilting up at his attendant’s vehemence. “I do believe you’re ready to fight me about this.”

“I will!” Hanyu’s grin faltered a little as he realized his boldness, but just then Antony lost his battle with laughter.

The idea of Hanyu pinning him down with his fragile human hands and bellowing, “Say it’s a good painting! Say it!” was just too… cute. It was cute. Antony’s laughter was half mortification at the realization. When had he last thought of anything as ‘cute?’

“All right,” he managed between giggles, “I surrender. This is the world’s greatest masterpiece. Generations will be brought weeping to their knees by its brilliance.”

“That’s right.” Hanyu nodded firmly. “After all, look at me! I’m crying already.”

“Oh, well if I could wring a tear from your stony heart, then of course.”

Hanyu stuck his tongue out at him.

Suddenly, with a clarity more like sight than memory, Antony was overcome with an image of Titus doing the same. His little brother, sweaty and grubby from a day of tumbling with him and Theo and Claudia around Mother’s courtyard, tiny dark face scrunched and pink tongue sticking out. It sent a squeezing pain right through Antony. Titus had been so small back then, so soft and round and defenseless…

There was a knock at the door.

Antony was glad to have his reminiscences interrupted. What was wrong with him today? Why couldn’t he keep his brain clear of pointless memories?

“I’ll get it!” Hanyu scrambled away, and Antony was surprised to see him stop at the door and carefully smooth down his fine silks before he pulled it open.

“Oh, hello, Eiji!” Hanyu’s voice had gone as sweet and smooth as fine honey. “Thank you for bringing my supper. You’re too kind.”

Antony was almost finished tidying his paints when Hanyu deposited his tray on the table. While the boy ate, he drifted over to his desk to check the paper.

Nothing from Titus. A month now, and nothing from Titus. At this point, there were four possibilities. Either the paper had been destroyed, Titus’ crew had run out of elves and gone feral, they had all been killed, or they had been captured.

Antony knew that, for the good of all of them, the last option was the worst. If the elves of his homeland had learned about the island, they would most likely build an entire armada to keep the vampires from acquiring any further offerings until they were all weak from hunger and easy to wipe out. Objectively, it would be better if Titus turned out to be dead instead of that.

Antony was shit at being objective.

He wanted his little brother alive. Feral and alive, captured and alive, a careless asshole who had lost his enchanted papers… but alive. Anything else could be fixed. But if Titus was dead…

Antony wouldn’t entertain the thought. He didn’t have family to spare.

He was restless now. He paced as Hanyu finished his meal, seemingly too absorbed in his food to worry about Antony’s moods. That was good. Antony couldn’t bear a fourth meltdown in three days.

Just as Hanyu set down his fork, the gong sounded to announce nightfall. Antony was pulling his boots on before the last note had died away.

“You’re going out?” Hanyu asked.

He sounded sad at the idea. Antony found himself a little saddened by it as well. He realized suddenly that he didn’t want to be alone with this fear, even for the space of a walk to the upper deck.

“So are you.” He blurted the words before he could have time to regret them. Maybe it was time he took a page from Hanyu’s book. “Put on something a little warmer, will you?”

Hanyu gave a little joyous squeak. Cute. “All right! I’ll be just a minute. Don’t go without me, Antony!”

“I won’t.” He should.

He didn’t.

A moment later, Hanyu was beside him again, swathed in a heavy wool robe. Antony approved of the choice. It should be enough to keep the chilly night breezes from his skin.

“Come on, then.”

There were others in the hallway. Some of the vampires liked to rush up as soon as the gong rang and feel the railings for any final warmth the sun might have left behind, the closest they could get now to savoring the delicious, wearying heat of a sunbeam. Others were simply excited enjoy the fresh air. Antony decided to break protocol and motion Hanyu forward, putting a proprietary hand on his back. He didn’t like having the boy out of his sight in a crowd, even such a thin crowd as this.

“Lord Antony!”

He turned gladly at the sound of Thaddeus’ voice. The mild vampire was accompanied by a human as well. Antony almost didn’t recognize Daido with his face not twisted by terror.

“Hello, Thad,” he greeted. Then, because apparently he couldn’t help taking notice of humans these days, “Hello, Daido. How are you two doing tonight?”

“I’m fine, thank you for asking.” Thaddeus looked back the requisite three steps to where Daido stood, clearly granting the man permission to speak.

Daido bowed low. “I am well, my lord, thank you. You honor me.”

He did seem to be all right. There was no stiffness in his walk or strain in his voice to indicate pain, and he and Thaddeus seemed at ease with each other. Thaddeus must have been telling the truth: he hadn’t laid a hand on the man. Antony wasn’t sure why that made him so happy.

“This must be the famous Hanyu!” Thaddeus said, smiling broadly.

Antony could have hugged him when he saw the pleasure brightening Hanyu’s face at the greeting. Blushing, the boy stooped into a bow in imitation of Daido’s acknowledgement.

“You’re right,” Antony said. “Hanyu, this is Lord Thaddeus and his attendant Daido.”

Hanyu’s eyes widened at the familiar names, but blessedly he managed to hold his tongue for once, only murmuring, “It’s an honor, my lord.”

“I’m sure you’re tired of hearing this, but you have the loveliest hair.” Thaddeus’ eyes were alight with interest, and Antony felt a strange irritation simmering before the other vampire went on speaking. “It’s nearly the same shade as the scales of the Lesser Reef Shark! Had you noticed, Antony? It’s almost their mating season, you know. I have a theory that they birth their young live- unusual for fish of their size, I know, but there is the precedent of-”

“I’m terribly sorry to interrupt you,” Antony lied, “but we’re on our way to speak with Theo. Never a free moment. Have a good evening!”

He hustled Hanyu along, but he was sure that Thaddeus was still in earshot when the boy whispered, “What precedent did he mean? Are there fish that give birth? That’s amazing!”

“I’m sure I don’t have the slightest idea.” Antony didn’t slow his escape. “Perhaps you two can talk about it sometime.”

“That would be wonderful!” Hanyu enthused.

Hmm. Antony never would have guessed that his energetic attendant would be happy to sit and listen to Thaddeus’ litany of fish facts. Then again, the boy was irrepressibly curious about all manner of things. Maybe the two of them would strike up a friendship.

Maybe more?

After all, it was clear that Hanyu was a very libidinous person. Antony ought to find him a lover somewhere, and while there were few among his crew that he would have trusted with Hanyu, Thaddeus was one of them. Antony could escort Hanyu right to Thaddeus’ bed and never have to fear that he would be hurt or disrespected there.

He shoved the thought away. Tonight was about confirming their location with Theodora, not playing matchmaker. There was plenty of time to find Hanyu a lover or two.

No rush.

It was only a moment later that they stepped up into the fresh, briny air. There was a strong wind blowing tonight. Antony only hoped that it was coming from the right direction and wouldn’t blow them off course. He couldn’t bear to lose any more time.

He was pulled from his doleful thoughts by a noisy gasp from Hanyu.

“Look at the stars, my lord!” he gushed, staring up in wide-eyed awe. “Have you ever seen so many? And so bright! You could almost touch them! Isn’t it wonderful?”

Antony opened his mouth to snap at the boy that he was here to find Theo and he didn’t have time for something as useless as stargazing. But at the last second, he stopped his words and looked up.

Hanyu was right, he supposed. It was a fine, clear night, dark as closed eyelids and pierced with a dazzling array of stars. They shone fiercely, crowded together like watchers at a parade, reflecting off the dark water (barely visible from this part of the deck) so that there seemed to be even more.

It had been a long time since Antony had thought to stop and admire a starry night. The beauty of it made him feel soothed and cracked open both at once, and almost a little teary. He turned to look at Hanyu, feeling a sudden, unfamiliar swell of gratitude.

The boy was grinning up into the night sky. To Antony’s eyes, unconstrained by the darkness, he looked half-drunk on his view of the stars, his face slack and open with a totally unselfconscious delight that made him, infuriatingly, quite lovely.

“It’s so beautiful,” Hanyu whispered reverently. His hand crept out, seemingly without his awareness, and seized Antony’s.

Antony was too astonished to resist for the first moment. The next moment, he glanced around to make sure there was no one nearby.

They had all dispersed over the deck. No one was close enough to see. Antony decided against resisting.

Shamefully, he was enjoying the press of the boy’s palm and the way it swallowed his own hand up entirely. It was both like and unlike the way his hand disappeared into Marcus’. Hanyu had none of his lover’s ancient calluses, and he didn’t grip the way Marcus did, tight and possessive. Hanyu’s big hand was soft and warm and a little sweaty, and his fingers circled Antony’s own hand so gently that it barely even made him feel held… though he still did.

Was it because the human lacked the strength for a real grip? Was this as hard as he could press? But no, his grip had been much stronger when he hauled Antony out of his bath.

Antony was charmed against his will to have his powerful, murderous old hand held so softly that it might have been a butterfly.

“Thank you for bringing me here,” the boy whispered, finally tearing his gaze from the night sky to smile adoringly at Antony.

Antony’s heart had been a pointless lump in his chest for a thousand years. Still, when Hanyu turned that look on him, he could almost swear it gave a painful thump.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” he sputtered.

Still, when he started marching down the deck towards the wheel, he couldn’t quite bring himself to let go of Hanyu’s hand. Instead, he used it to tow his offering behind him.

Did every human have such warm hands? Even before the curse, Antony had always had cold hands, he remembered suddenly. His mother had always said it was a sign of bad circulation, blood not moving as it should.

There was probably some dark joke in there somewhere.

His feet had always been cold, too. He used to put them on Valerius’ warm legs in bed- he still remembered the indignant squawks and-

No! No memories. Not now, not ever.

He pulled his hand out of Hanyu’s grasp.

Antony knew that Theodora was not at the wheel even before they reached it. There were torches lit, which she would not have needed. Still, his heart sank when he saw the broad, weary-looking man at the wheel.

“Bunta!” Hanyu chirped happily.

The man- Bunta, apparently- looked up in astonishment, then folded to the deck when he saw Antony. “M- My lord!”

“Get up,” Antony sighed, trying not to let his disappointment and frustration color his tone. “You were busy. Where’s Theodora?”

“My lord no longer leaves Chujiro’s bedside,” Bunta said.

“Of course.” This happened every now and then, when one of her offerings approached death, but lingered.

Marcus always teased her about it.

Antony never made him stop.

Shit. Theo was worried about being a bad friend? If she didn’t hate him down to the ends of his hair, it was more than he deserved.

He got the coordinates from Bunta. They were exactly what he’d known they would be. He realized he’d been driven more by a desire for Theodora’s rough reassurance than any need for the coordinates.

She was getting them there as fast as she could. There was nothing Antony could do to speed the journey.

More broadly, there was nothing he could do.

“Let’s go back,” he told Hanyu. “You need to get some sleep. You’ll be back up here in the morning.”

A quarter of an hour later, when Antony stepped out of the washroom, ready for bed, he found Hanyu already tucked under the covers- not the covers of his own cot, but those of Antony’s bed. He raised an eyebrow.

The boy gave him the most contrived look of innocence he’d ever seen in all his long life. Who, me? Somewhere I’m not supposed to be? The very idea!

Antony settled in wordlessly next to Hanyu, ignoring the boy’s full-body wiggle of joy, and told himself it was because he was too tired to argue tonight.

Chapter Text

HANYU’S POV

Hanyu woke up happy. The lack of any counterweight on the mattress told him that his master was already gone, but that hardly dampened his mood. He was in Antony’s bed for the second night in a row! He considered getting rid of his cot, but thought he’d better wait a week or two before going that far.

When he padded out into the other room, freshly scrubbed but still naked, he found Antony scribbling furiously on a piece of paper.

“Good morning,” the god said without looking up. “You’re up early.”

“Am I? Hard to tell without any windows.” Hanyu moved to stand behind his chair and peer over his shoulder. The writing was all in that strange looping language, and he couldn’t restrain a pout at his inability to read it. “What’s that?”

“The short answer is that it’s none of your business.” Antony shot a glower up at him. “The longer answer is that it is a letter that’s none of your business. Didn’t they ever teach you not to read over somebody’s shoulder?”

“No.”

Antony gave him a longer look. “Of course not. They also didn’t teach you to wear clothes, but I already knew that.”

“My clothes are in the closet!” Hanyu protested. “How can I leave the bedroom in them?”

“Right, fine, you win.” Antony flicked a hand in a gesture that could have meant dismissal or surrender.

Hanyu was distracted by the memory of holding that hand last night. It had been so chilly and so amazingly small in his own. It was hard to believe what that wonderful little hand could do. Had done.

Antony had killed untold thousands of people. Hanyu didn’t have any illusions about that. He had seen the blood after the battle. But still, holding his hand hadn’t felt dangerous. It had just felt… nice. Hanyu couldn’t wait to do it again.

“Is this blackmail?” Antony asked, interrupting his thoughts. “You’ll stand there naked until I tell you what I’m writing?”

“Yes.”

Hanyu was shocked with himself before the word was even out of his mouth. He fell far too easily into teasing. One day he was going to push his luck too far. Maybe he had just done exactly that, right now, right after a string of bad-luck days.

He opened his mouth to apologize, to say that of course he would never intentionally displease his master, of course he would joyfully obey any order his god chose to give him, but he was cut off by a huff.

“Oh, don’t go pale and goggle-eyed, boy. No meltdowns today, I’m begging you. Four days in a row is too much for me. I’m not angry with you, so don’t worry. Here, I’ll even give in to your tyrannical demands.” His master waved at the paper. “I’m writing to my sister.”

Hanyu’s head felt a little light despite the reassurance. Maybe he was getting into the habit of meltdowns?

He slumped to his knees next to the god’s chair and felt Lord Antony tense, but then Hanyu leaned into his master’s leg instead of moving into a full bow, and the god relaxed again.

“That’s all right then.” The gruff voice was accompanied by a gentle hand stroking his hair.

Hanyu leaned into the touch and let it settle his still-pounding heart.

He really was going to go too far one of these days. Then again, he already had when he dug through the chests, and that hadn’t been the end.

He would go too far, and Antony would tell him that he had gone too far, and Hanyu would apologize and obey, and his god would forgive him.

He wished he could lean his head against Antony’s knee, but he was too tall. He had to content himself with putting his elbows there and resting his chin on the edge of the desk.

“Your sister?” He asked. “Lord Claudia?”

He couldn’t see Antony’s face, but he guessed that the god was rolling his eyes. “No, my other sister, the mutant dragon rider. Of course Claudia! She’s the only sister I have.”

“I didn’t know,” Hanyu replied defensively. “You could have a whole fourth ship full of sisters!”

“Claudia and Theo are already more sister than I can handle most days,” Antony grumbled.

Hanyu jolted away from Antony’s leg and twisted his neck to gawp at his master.

“Lord Theodora is your sister?”

“No, no, not by birth. I just meant… well, every other way. She’s been my closest friend all our lives.”

“Oh good,” Hanyu exhaled, slumping in relief.

“Why would that be a problem?”

Hanyu felt his face heat. “Well… you said that you and she once… um… enjoyed each other? And I know I don’t understand everything about the gods and things are different for you, but-”

His rambling was cut off by a snort that dissolved into high-pitched, reluctant laughter.

“Oh no!” Antony chortled. “No, it’s not that different, never fear.”

“Wasn’t it still awkward, since you think of her as a sister?”

“How did they teach you all of the manners and absolutely no manners at the same time?” Antony asked with a final gasp of laughter. “Yes, it was awkward for a while, but you’d be surprised how much awkwardness can be gotten over in a thousand years.”

A thousand years. No matter how many times Hanyu tried to imagine that much life, he knew he would never really grasp it. He settled back against the god, marveling.

“What are you telling Lord Claudia?” he asked after a moment.

“Nothing!” Antony’s voice was sharp.

Hanyu jerked away again and looked up, only to see that the god looked less angry than flustered. He saw Hanyu’s frightened look and sighed.

“Oh, all right. She asked after you and I was writing an update.”

Hanyu had no intention of dissolving the way he had when he first learned that Antony talked about him with the other gods. Still, it seemed even more significant that he wrote about him, to Lord Claudia, who had asked after him even though she was lord of her own ship and doubtless had a hundred other more important things to think about… Not that Lord Antony seemed all that busy.

That thought, at least, Hanyu managed to keep to himself.

He also kept his lips closed over I love you. I love you so much and you must care for me a little, because you wrote about me to your sister. You wanted her to know about me.

“Oh, stop twisting your face up like that.” His god’s fingers were stroking his hair again. “Go on and cry if you must. Though… are these good tears, or were you frightened when I snapped at you?”

“Good tears,” Hanyu sniffled, cuddling close to Antony’s leg again.

He stayed there, enjoying the contact, until a knock at the door heralded the arrival of his breakfast.

Antony sighed. “Now I have to be the one to answer the door. Is there no end to the uses you get out of being naked?”

Hanyu laughed as he sprang up and headed for his closet.

“You ought to give it a try, my lord!”

When he came back, finally clothed, there was a tray on the table and Antony was packing his letter away in a little metal box.

“How do you send your letters?” Hanyu asked as he wriggled into his chair.

Antony shut the drawer. “The paper is enchanted.” 

“Oh.” It was strange that magic would make for a disappointing answer, but Hanyu had been hoping for trained birds or fish or dragons or something like that.

He’d already begun shoveling his breakfast into his mouth when Antony spoke again.

“Claudia says hello, by the way.”

Hanyu almost spewed his mouthful over the table, just like he had on his first morning. He had been so frightened at the time. Now, he would probably just laugh harder at Antony’s outraged face. It had barely been a month and already he was treating a god like a friend.

And another lord among the gods had sent him greetings.

“Really?” he gasped now once he’d swallowed his mouthful. “To me?”

“No, to my other offering.”

Hanyu’s heart sank. “Ei-Eiji?” 

“Oh, for goodness’ sake, of course it was you! I was being sarcastic. In fact, it was the second time I used that exact bit of sarcasm this morning, which probably means I’m being a prick today.”

“No more than usual!” Hanyu protested, and then flushed when Antony burst out laughing again. “Oh… I didn’t… You know I didn’t mean it like that!”

Once the god’s giggles had died away, Hanyu spoke up, determined to change the subject.

“May I read to Chujiro after exercise today?” He asked.

Antony smiled. “That’s kind of you. We’ll go as soon as you’ve cleaned up.”

Hanyu had considered skipping his visit to the upper deck entirely and just going straight to Chujiro’s side, but he couldn’t give up his chance to check on Asao. After all, he had no idea whether his reckless intervention the other day had even worked. Had his friend been spared punishment, or had it only been delayed?

He was thrilled to see Bunta at the door when the time finally came.

“I’m so glad it’s you! We didn’t get a chance to talk at all last night,” he cried, leaping to squeeze the smaller man in a hug.

“Hello,” Bunta replied, his voice muffled by Hanyu’s shoulder.

“I’ll see you later!” Hanyu tossed over his shoulder, and Antony raised a hand in acknowledgement before the door shut between them.

“How are you?” Hanyu asked once he’d released Bunta and the two of them had started walking. “Did you hear about the trial? Lord Thaddeus’ offering was sleeping with another god! Lord Thaddeus seems nice. Do you know him?”

The older man glanced up at him.

“I don’t know Lord Thaddeus. I do know that you seem awfully happy with Lord Antony.”

Hanyu knew he should at least try to tamp down his smile, but he couldn’t. “Oh yes!”

“Very… comfortable,” Bunta said as if he hadn’t spoken. “He’s been good to you? He… talks to you?”

“All the time! Well, I do more talking than he does, but that probably doesn’t surprise you.”

“Not in the slightest.” Bunta smiled at him and shook his head. His expression was strained, but he seemed sincere when he said, “I’m glad to see you happy. I was afraid that Lord Antony would parch that sweet spirit of yours.”

“No!” Hanyu felt defensive, though he knew that was silly. As if a lord of the gods needed him to defend his honor! “He’s much more forgiving of my nature than he should be. I was never… At the temple, I didn’t… I’m happier with him than I ever knew I could be.”

“I’m glad to hear it.” They were nearly to the upper deck now, and Hanyu caught the first whiff of fresh air as Bunta shook his head. “Surprised, but glad. It does make me wonder what the temple is like these days, though.”

If Antony continued in his determination to depose the high priest because he had hurt Hanyu’s feelings, the temple was about to get very interesting.

Once Hanyu saw the sky, he found that the day was gray and grim. There was a stiff breeze blowing. He took in a big lungful of the briny air and enjoyed the salt and chill of it, but he thought it would never smell so sweet again as it had last night when Antony brought him up here and let him hold his hand as they looked at the stars.

Bunta sighed. “It’ll be stormy before long. Poor Zenji. He’ll have a trying afternoon.”

“Who’s Zenji?” Hanyu asked.

“My lover.” Bunta smiled warmly, and his usually weary face fanned into more fine lines than Hanyu had ever seen on it before. “He’s in charge of the kitchens officially, and the laundry unofficially. He used to belong to your Lord Antony, as well.”

Oh. That wasn’t a thought Hanyu cared for. Now there wasn’t just stupid perfect Eiji, there was also the terrifying specter of competent, commanding Zenji.

“Hanyu!” Kenta’s voice rang across the deck, and Hanyu was glad to detach himself from Bunta and run to join his friends.

His cadre was spread over the stretch of deck where they did their stationary exercises. When had they stopped huddling in a tight cluster, he wondered? Perhaps he wasn’t the only one for whom the ship had come to feel like home.

Of course he wasn’t the only one, because there was Kenta waving at him, Kenta who loved his new life as much as Hanyu did.

“Good morning,” Hanyu greeted as he jogged up to his friend.

Gen was standing with Kenta and he threw his arms around Hanyu once he joined them. “Hanyu! You’re walking much better today!”

“Gen!” Kenta squawked, flushing.

Hanyu could only laugh at his friend’s bluntness.

“Lord Antony gave me salve,” he said. “Morning and night. He applied it himself!”

Gen hooted and Kenta blushed.  “How… intimate.”

Something about Kenta’s blush and startled words sent a great rush of giddy pleasure through Hanyu. It was intimate, wasn’t it? If his friends thought that Antony’s behavior was unusual, then it probably was. It was nice to have outside opinions.

After a few more minutes of happy chatter, Hanyu caught sight of a sleek black braid and slender shoulder and broke away from Kenta and Gen with a hasty apology.

“Asao!” he called as he came to stand behind his friend. “How are you doing?”

“Fine,” Asao said, turning to look at him.

His friend’s smile was only a little strained. Lately, Hanyu counted that as a victory.

“Lord Marcus never punished you after… everything?” Hanyu asked, and Asao shook his head.

“I almost hate to tell you your scheme worked, since I’d rather not encourage you to do it again, but yes. I never heard another word about it.”

A little knot of tension that Hanyu hadn’t even realized he was carrying around in his belly loosened. “Oh good.” 

“What about you? How was the rest of your punishment? Are you all right?”

“I…” Hanyu glanced around. No one was paying attention to their conversation. “Lord Antony didn’t finish it. He knew what I was doing. He only pretended to be angry.”

Asao didn’t get angry this time. He just looked a little bleak. “Oh.”

“And don’t worry about me doing it again!” Hanyu rushed to add. “Lord Antony said I couldn’t. I think he’d punish me in earnest if I tried something like that again. He was very stern about it.”

Asao managed a half-smile. “Well, that’s something. Very stern, even. You poor thing.”

“Asao…” How to phrase this? “If we asked Lord Antony, I’m sure he would tell Lord Marcus not to be so rough with you! We could-”

“You don’t need to worry about me, Hanyu,” Asao interrupted. “My lord’s attentions may be rough, but they are an honor. If you ever get the chance to experience that kind of service, you’ll understand.”

“Oh.”

“I want you to focus on serving your own master so that maybe someday he’ll find you worthy. Mine already has. So stop pitying me, all right?”

There was something terribly firm and final about the way he turned his back on Hanyu.

Chapter Text

ANTONY’S POV

Antony hated that he noticed Hanyu’s absence from his rooms as much as he did. He felt an absurd amount of relief at the surcease in loneliness that came when he saw that Claudia had already replied to the letter he wrote that morning. She must have been waiting to hear from him.

Dearest Antony,

All right, I’m sorry I said anything about your Hanyu. I could feel your scowl right through the paper! You’re right, I am very silly to think that you’ve grown fond of the man you’ve written me three pages about in two letters. May I ask what this deeply uninteresting individual has been busying himself with the last few days, or am I being presumptuous to assume you know? Do you even remember who Hanyu is anymore? Hard to say.

Antony had a very sarcastic sister. Where had she learned that? She hadn’t gotten it from their mother, who had always been almost painfully sincere, or the king, who was far too important for any kind of sense of humor. Maybe that was what replaced their souls: sarcasm.

Honestly, though, I’m glad to hear that you two are getting along so well. If only everyone on your ship could say the same! I’m sorry about the fight, though I can’t say I was surprised to learn that Messalina was involved. I hope your ribs are better now. Also, you mentioned that He Who Shall Be Nameless said that your whole crew deals with problems by hitting you. Who else did he mean? Are you stomping about picking fights now?

Damn. He shouldn’t have mentioned Hanyu’s statement to her, however funny he’d found it. He didn’t want to explain things with Marcus to his sister. She wouldn’t understand. Anyhow, it was none of her business. Who wanted to hear about their sibling’s sex life?

I actually had a fight to break up recently as well. It wasn’t among our kind, though. Some humans got into a knock-down brawl for reasons I still haven’t entirely untangled. As near as I can tell, they’re competing to have Aelia choose them once their time in general service is over. Apparently it never occurred to them that if they proved they could get along, she might take them both. Well, too late now. You know how she hates conflict. She won’t offer a place to either.

With any luck, that will be the last human fight I have to sort out myself. What you told me about Felix has me thinking that I ought to create an official position for someone to oversee human affairs on the ship. I can’t believe I never thought of it before! I’m considering Sabina and Caius for the role. What do you think, between the two of them?

Antony didn’t know his siblings’ crews as intimately as his own. From what he remembered, both Sabina and Caius were clever, organized, fearsomely competent, and not terribly approachable. He would advise her to ask some of the humans for their nominations.

Overall, though, her plan seemed like a good one, and could be worth imitating. The idea of making Felix’s self-appointed role official was worth considering. Antony had come to suspect that Felix was the reason that things among the humans went so smoothly on his own ship. He was very rarely troubled by any requests or conflicts from the beings who made up most of his little kingdom’s inhabitants. It would be only just- and long overdue- to offer Felix some recognition for the invaluable work he did.

Still, if he gave Felix a new title and new duties, he would essentially be stealing Marcus’ second out from under him. And that relationship was much older than his own with Marcus, although, now that he thought about it, it seemed to have cooled considerably over the centuries.

When they had first set out from their homeland, Felix had been serving as Marcus’ second for several years already. Felix hadn't been in line for any title, nor had his family been wealthy. In fact, if Antony remembered correctly, they’d been farmers, and not terribly prosperous ones. Marcus had defied expectations and raised eyebrows when he named the promising commoner second-in-command of the king’s own guard. In return, young Felix had idolized his commander so openly that Antony would have been terribly jealous had he still been mooning over Marcus instead of… well, never mind that.

He supposed it was only natural that Felix had outgrown his hero worship. They were none of them callow youths anymore. Still, Antony was hesitant to disrupt a dynamic that he didn’t fully understand. That decided it, then. Felix would not be promoted.

His sister sent more news of her ship and its doings, asked after Titus in what seemed more like a hopeless compulsion than a real request for information, and wished him well. Antony was just picking up his pen to respond when the door opened, signaling Hanyu’s return and prompting a rather unseemly burst of pleasure in Antony himself.

“Hello, pet,” he greeted, turning in his chair to smile at the boy. “How was it?”

“It was fine, my lord, thank you for asking.”

Hanyu’s face was downcast as he crossed the room to make his bow, which set Antony’s head clanging with alarm. The boy had seemed cheerful enough all morning, teasing and snooping and pestering and cuddling up against his leg. He certainly hadn’t looked unhappy or bothered with bowing. The change left Antony wondering what had gone wrong abovedeck and who was responsible, but he didn’t dare ask the boy. The last thing he wanted was to trigger another meltdown.

For all Marcus’ jabs about the way he’d ignored his other offerings, Antony was coming to wonder if that hadn’t been the better state of affairs. He didn’t think that Eiji had been brought to sobs of terror three times in all six years, let alone in three days.

“Are you ready to go see Chujiro?” Antony asked, instead, once he had the boy back on his feet.

“Yes, my lord.”

He sounded as low as he looked. Antony’s guts squeezed unpleasantly.

“Is there a book you want to bring from here? Otherwise you’ll probably get stuck reading another of Theo’s sop tales.”

“I don’t mind,” Hanyu replied.

“Right, of course. You’re a romantic, too.”

Hanyu looked troubled. “Does that displease you, my lord?”

“What? No, of course not.” What had happened to his name? He could have sworn the boy had been using it this morning. “Theo is my dearest friend. Why would it upset me that you like it, but not that she does?”

“Because she’s your dearest friend, and I’m just your-” The boy hesitated, and Antony tensed to hear slave, pet, meal. Why did he dread those words? They were all true.

Still, it was an enormous relief when Hanyu simply finished, “- attendant.”

“Oh, don’t be stupid, boy,” Antony snapped, yanking on his boot a little harder than necessary. “I’d tell you if you were irritating me. Now let’s go.”

Theodora seemed a little shy of meeting Antony’s gaze, but she received Hanyu gladly, waving off his attempt to bow and plunking him into her seat.

“Look, Chujiro!” she said to the old man. “Hanyu’s back to read for you again!” 

Antony suspected that she was trying for a happy chirp, which neither her slow way of speaking nor her low, deadpan voice were much suited for. The result was more frantic than cheerful. 

“Oh,” the old man wheezed. Antony was quite sure that he had no idea who Hanyu was.

When Theodora knelt beside Chujiro’s bed and cradled his hand in hers, he looked down at her with obvious irritation and snatched it back. He must not remember her right now, either. Theodora flinched almost imperceptibly but settled back on her knees.

Antony wanted to sit beside her. She was obviously nervous after their fight about Marcus, and he wanted to bump her hip and sling his arm around her waist and show her that there were no hard feelings.

But to sit with her, he would have to put his back against the bed. He would be right next to Chujiro, and every fiber of him revolted against that idea. The faint whistling that came with every one of the old man’s breaths, the overpowering smell of an aging body, the papery skin- he couldn’t get any closer. He sat down by Hanyu’s feet.

The boy picked up the book and opened to Theodora’s marker. “Where were you, my lord?”

“They were kissing,” Theodora replied.

Hanyu squinted at the pages, his brow wrinkling.

“That seems to be what’s happening for all of the two pages…” he said hesitantly.

“Oh, just start at the top.” Theodora looked up at Chujiro with a smile so hopeful and vulnerable that Antony’s chest squeezed at the sight. “We don’t mind a little extra kissing, do we?”

The old man’s watery gaze traveled over the room. “Where’s Ayumu?”

Theodora kept her smile, but Antony saw the very corners of her mouth tighten. “He’ll be along soon. We’ll catch him up when he gets here. For now, let’s listen to Hanyu.”

“The thief’s lips were as hot and demanding as the summer sun, searing right to his core. Their hands strayed over his body, and he shuddered in ecstasy.”

When the boy started reading, his voice was tight and a little shaky. Antony glanced up and saw that his eyes were brimming with tears.

Of course. If Antony was feeling sharp pangs of sympathy for the poor old man, what must be going on in Hanyu’s tender heart? He fought down an impulse to lean against the boy’s knees as Hanyu so often did with him.

Hanyu kept reading, his voice steadying as he went. To his own disgust, Antony was a little disappointed to find that this was an entirely new book. He hated to admit it, but he’d been interested to find out what happened to the stupid prince and rogue.

He could never ask Theodora about the ending. She wouldn’t let him hear the end of it for a hundred years.

The heroes of this story were a dashing thief and a virginal servant boy who was actually a nobleman in disguise. After a chapter or two the nobleman was less virginal, the thief was being evasive about their background, and Antony had a flash of suspicion.

“Hey!” he cried. “Is the thief actually the lord his father means for him to marry? Are they both disguised?”

Three pairs of disgusted eyes settled on him.

“Antony!” Theodora bellowed, while Hanyu whined “Stoooop!” and a thin, wheezy “What’s the matter with you, boy?” rose from the bed. Apparently, Chujiro had regained some clarity of mind just in time to scold him.

“What?” Antony protested. “They are, aren’t they?”

“There’s no reasoning with him,” Theodora told the other two sadly. “He reads the ends of books first.”

Chujiro groaned, and Hanyu looked down at Antony with all the accusation he should have shown when Antony snapped at him yesterday.

“Do you also pull flower buds open to see what color the petals will be?” the boy demanded.

“Oh, don’t be so dramatic,” he grumbled. “I don’t always read the ending first. But if it seems like things will end in ways I won’t like, why not check the end?”

“But what about the surprise?” Hanyu asked.

“I don’t care if it surprises me, as long as I know it’s going somewhere good.”

“But we get new books so rarely,” Theo argued. “Isn’t the novelty worth putting up with some you don’t like?”

Antony shrugged. “Not really. I’d rather reread a book I know is good than waste time on one that isn’t.”

“Like I said.” Theodora shook her head sadly. “No reasoning with him.”

Antony harrumphed and crossed his arms over his chest, aware that he was pouting.

“I didn’t realize I was in the court of the Kings of Reading, arbiters of the correct way to read all books. Tell you what, Your Majesties, I’ll read my way and you read yours.”

“You’re not letting us read our way!” Hanyu said.

“I don’t know the end! It was just a guess!”

“Well, keep your guesses to yourself,” Hanyu scolded. “Anyhow, what do you care? You’re the one who always fusses about reading romances. Why do you care what happens?”

“I don’t!”

“Then be quiet and let us enjoy the story.” After a moment, Hanyu remembered to tack on a belated, “My lord.”

Theodora was finally looking at Antony, albeit with a wondering little smile on her face, and that was a relief. But it was swallowed up in the great rush of his relief that Hanyu was acting like himself again.

Antony turned his head to hide the smile he couldn’t quite repress. “All right, then, tyrant. I’ll behave. Now keep reading, will you?”

Chapter Text

HANYU’S POV

Hanyu’s determination to behave better, as Asao suggested, had lasted all of ten minutes.

He would have died of shame had Asao seen the way he’d dared to scold Antony, though he found himself wishing that Kenta had been present for the reading this time. Even his timid friend would surely be less daunted by Antony if he saw the way the god let Hanyu bicker and banter with him.

Chujiro had a few more flashes of clarity as Hanyu read. Sometimes the old man would take Lord Theodora’s hand or pat her head or shoulder, making her glow with joy. And he seemed content to listen, sometimes reacting to the story and sometimes not. Hanyu couldn’t imagine what it would be like to live in a mind so clouded and wandering, but he couldn’t think too much about it or he’d start crying again.

When Antony finally declared that they needed to return to his rooms so Hanyu could have supper, the taciturn Lord Theodora thanked him so extravagantly for coming that Hanyu felt panicky and embarrassed. He was glad when he and Antony emerged into the hallway, though he planned to come back the next day.

“Well, that book was even worse than the other one,” Antony commented as they strolled down the empty hall.

Hanyu snickered. “You’re just pouting because we all scolded you.”

As soon as the words were out, he was a little shocked with his own daring. However, the glare Antony turned on him was heatless. Hanyu wondered if scowling was simply reflex for the god at this point.

“I certainly wasn’t expecting to have the three of you all team up to leap down my throat together. Well, I learned my lesson. You won’t hear so much as a breath from me next time.” He looked up at Hanyu and raised an eyebrow. “I hope that won’t result in you throwing me to the floor and cracking my sternum with chest compressions.”

It took Hanyu a moment to realize that his master was referring to Hanyu’s efforts to save him from drowning in his tub. The memory brought a laugh bubbling helplessly from his lips.

He’d been too frightened to laugh at the time. In hindsight, though, Antony’s face had been so funny…

By the time his giggles subsided, they were back at Antony’s door.

“No tray,” the god observed. “We beat the delivery. They must be running a little late.”

Hanyu felt an unworthy little jolt of glee at that. Since Zenji was in charge of the kitchen and stupid perfect Eiji made deliveries, this was a strike against two of his competitors at once.

Just as quickly, the glow of superiority passed. Making deliveries would be awful when his time came. He would be working with Eiji every day, and he was sure to drop something every time those cool, beautiful eyes settled on him.

“I hope you won’t think badly of me if I’m late when I make deliveries,” he blurted out.

Antony looked up from where he was kneeling to unlace his boots. If Hanyu had been thinking, he would have offered to do that for his master.

“When you make deliveries?” the god repeated, sounding surprised.

Hanyu sighed dolefully. “Yes. I think I’d be too likely to hurt myself in the wringer at the laundry or burn myself in the kitchens. I think it will have to be deliveries for me.”

“You want to make deliveries?” Antony asked. “I don’t think they need any more delivery workers right now, but we could ask Eiji.”

“Oh, I didn’t mean now! I just meant… next cycle when you get your new offering.” Hanyu looked at his feet, feeling his spirits dampen a little at the thought of his future loss.

“I’m not getting one next cycle.”

Hanyu’s head jerked up and his heart thudded dizzy joy all through him. Had he heard right?

Perhaps not. Antony just placed his boots next to the door and crossed to the sofa, flopping down and retrieving his book as if he hadn’t said anything of note.

“Y-you’re not getting another offering?” Hanyu faltered.

Antony looked at Hanyu impatiently, as if he were being terribly stupid. “Goodness, no. Where would we put him? Even if you were gone half the day making deliveries, we’d all be tripping over each other in the evenings. Unlike Theo, I don’t fancy living in an anthill.”

“Oh. Right, of course.” Hanyu was trying to be calm and matter-of-fact like his god, but that was difficult when tears were raining down his cheeks.

“Hanyu? Fuck, what did I say now?” Antony demanded.

Hanyu loved the particular tone of mingled anxiety and irritation that his master used when he started crying unexpectedly. He might need to learn to shed false tears just to elicit it sometimes.

“Did you want us to get someone else?” Antony asked now. “If it matters so much to you, I suppose we could make it work.”

“That’s not it,” Hanyu whispered. “I… you’re keeping me? Really?”

The anxiety faded from Antony’s voice, replaced by more irritation. “Oh, that? Of course I’m keeping you.”

Hanyu opened his mouth. He didn’t know what he was going to say, but whatever it was got lost in a sob.

“Unless you don’t want to be kept?”

Now Antony sounded uneasy, and his nervousness was even dearer than his cantankerousness. It meant care and concern that Hanyu wasn’t owed, but that Antony lavished on him anyway. It pierced Hanyu’s heart with a painful tenderness. I love you.

“If it’s such an awful prospect you’re going to break down in tears, you certainly don’t have to stay,” Antony rushed to say.

Hanyu flung himself down to sit by the god’s feet and latch his arms around Antony’s legs.

“I want to stay,” he wept. “I’m just… so happy, Antony. Thank you for keeping me!”

“Oh, come now, boy,” Antony said. His hand came down on Hanyu’s head, slender little fingers stroking gently through his hair. “Don’t be ridiculous.”

Hanyu just hugged his legs tighter. After a moment, a chilly hand reached out and tipped his chin up so that his eyes met Antony’s.

“If it meant so much to you, why didn’t you say something?” the god asked. “If you’d just said ‘Antony, I want to stay after the cycle’ we could have cleared this up weeks ago and there wouldn’t have been any need for these hysterics.”

“You decided I could stay weeks ago?”

Antony scowled. “I don’t know that I ever really ‘decided.’ It’s not as if I held a meeting with myself to discuss it.”

Hanyu’s first shock was fading into the purest, wildest happiness he’d ever felt. Every fiber of his body was screaming for joy and demanding some kind of motion, now! He was too happy for thinking or talking or sitting still. He scrambled to his feet.

“Hanyu? What’s wrong?”

Antony had stood as well to peer worriedly up at Hanyu’s face. Hanyu seized his little god and clutched him close as he whirled around the room in a crazed half-dance, half-hug of exultation. He barely heard Antony’s affronted squawk through his own still-tearful giggles of delight.

“Thank you thank you thank you!” he chanted.

Manic joy filled him until he thought he might burst. He squeezed Antony, stopped himself, remembered that Antony was a god and wouldn’t be hurt, and kept squeezing with all his strength.

“Oof,” his master complained, though he sounded more startled than hurt. Hanyu went on hugging.

He swept Antony along in his disjointed, bouncing dance of joy and went on chattering. After a moment, the god finally relaxed and wrapped his own arms around Hanyu, and that was even better, and Hanyu thought he might die of how perfect it all was until the door swung open.

Eiji stood with a tray in his hands and stared at them with eyes so wide Hanyu half-expected them to pop out and go rolling over the floorboards.

“F-Forgive me,” the man stammered. “I knocked, and I thought… did you say to come in?”

Antony grunted. “This one’s been saying so many things, I wouldn’t be surprised.”

“Antony’s keeping me! I get to stay!” Hanyu cried.

The words bubbled out without a conscious decision on his part, and it felt so damn good to say them that he knew he had to tell everyone. He had to stand in the middle of the deck and sing it to every man and god on this beautiful, wonderful boat!

Eiji’s face snapped from confused to perfectly, politely blank. He took a few steps and set the tray on the table.

“I see,” he said amiably. “Congratulations. Forgive me for the disturbance, my lord.”

A deep bow and he was gone.

Hanyu didn’t want to put Antony down, but now that he was the tiniest bit calmer there was no excuse for swinging his master around like that. Reluctantly, he gave Antony a final squeeze and set him back on his feet.

“Well,” the god said, straightening his clothes and failing to hide the little smile tugging at the corners of his mouth, “I suppose that means it’s time for you to eat. Start in while it’s hot, will you? No cold-meal punishments today.”

“Not even for picking you up?” Hanyu knew he should have been frightened and shocked with himself, but he asked the question with a grin.

“Not even for that, you fucking python, though you’d better not make a habit of it.”

Hanyu didn’t respond to that. He had loved picking Antony up and squeezing him, and he wasn’t sure he’d be able to resist doing it again. Instead of saying as much, he dropped down into his chair and started eating.

After a moment, Antony said, “I had a thought.”

At the careful tone of his voice, Hanyu couldn’t help tensing a little. He didn’t think his god expected him to like the thought.

“I think I’ll be able to drink from you again if someone is there to stop me if I try to take too much,” his master continued. “I thought I might ask Theo. Is that acceptable to you, or would you prefer that I get my food elsewhere?”

“No!”

That question hardly needed considering. Hanyu might miss the intimacy of feedings with only the two of them present, but anything was preferable to Antony drinking from someone else.

His god had raised a silver brow at his vehemence, and Hanyu pretended contrition.

“I’m sorry, my lord,” he said as meekly as he could manage. “But if I’m to be here always, we really ought to figure out how to make feedings work sooner or later.”

Always.

What an overwhelming concept! Hanyu glanced around the little rooms with new eyes. These weren’t some unknowable god’s mysterious chambers, as they had been the first night. These weren’t Antony’s rooms in which he had a temporary place, as they had been since. This was his home now. He would eat here at this table every day and find his first gray hairs in the mirror in Antony’s washroom. His dreams would take place here because it was where his mind felt he should be. It would be his, too, in a way.

“You’re right,” Antony sighed, and Hanyu recalled himself to the conversation. “Theodora, then. We’ll invite her back here, if possible. I’d rather not have half the ship watching, and half the ship lives in her rooms.”

“Has she always kept them all?” Hanyu was a little dizzied by the idea of so many hundreds of men.

Antony frowned and tilted his head back, thinking. “I believe so. She was fearsomely protective even when we were children. Once she thought something was hers to defend, that was the end of it.”

As strange as it was to imagine his master as a child, a child version of Lord Theodora was entirely unthinkable.

“What about you? Have you ever kept anyone before?” Hanyu should have felt shy, asking that, but he didn’t.

Antony’s face darkened. “Yes. But it was a very long time ago. You’re the first in many centuries.”

His god was shamefaced, but Hanyu felt a little glow of pleasure at the words. Centuries.

He might not have earned the chance for his master to use him yet, but he had been deemed worthy in other ways, worthier than hundreds of others, worthier than stupid beautiful…

… Oh no.

Eiji!

Chapter Text

ANTONY’S POV

Antony lay clasped in Hanyu’s arms, feeling the boy’s soft, even breaths ghosting over the top of his head and trying to fight down rush after ridiculous rush of panic.

There was no reason for him to get this worked up. His sister kept her offerings often enough. Theo kept all of hers. Plenty of his crew members took humans at the end of the cycle and kept them until they died or went to Felix’s elder rooms. It didn’t have to mean anything that he was dabbling in long-term ownership himself.

Still, every fiber of his body was thrumming with a desire to break out of Hanyu’s sleepy grip and run screaming down the hallway.

He had never really decided to keep Hanyu. When the boy had mentioned Antony’s new offering, his only thought had been the one he’d voiced: “Where would we put him?” Somehow, in just over a month, he’d started thinking of Hanyu’s presence in these rooms as a simple fact of life.

It hadn’t occurred to him that he was making any kind of offer until the boy came right out and asked if he was keeping him. And what could he say then? Hanyu was already crying, his face so open and fragile with hope that Antony had been powerless to do anything but snap that yes, the boy could stay.

He shouldn’t have been so weak. He should have made that display of power that he’d considered so early on, roaring that his offering had forgotten his place and how dared he presume so? 

Or, if he didn’t want to go that far (which he probably didn’t- the last thing Antony wanted was to trigger another of Hanyu’s fearful meltdowns), he should simply have pretended that the boy had misunderstood and he’d said nothing of the sort. It would have been a flimsy lie, but at least Antony wouldn’t have been lying under an arm that felt more and more like a vise and slowly losing his mind.

When had this happened? When had Hanyu stopped being someone irritating, but delicious enough to put up with for six years? 

Was it when he’d yanked Antony out of his bathtub, face awash in genuine fear? When he’d acted so cleverly and selflessly to protect Asao? When Antony had heard the way he read? When he’d clung to Antony and chattered his gratitude for some small forgiveness?

Which joyful smile had been the first that Antony couldn’t help returning?

It didn’t matter. He’d gotten used to the boy. And who else would? Who else would allow Hanyu to be his noisy, talkative self? The poor thing would be punished within an inch of his life (or past that, more likely) if Antony sent him away. It was in both of their best interest to continue the arrangement, since they’d gotten comfortable with it.

And so what if he found the boy’s presence comfortable? That was no crime. It happened often enough. Antony reminded himself again that plenty of people kept their offerings for life. This didn’t have to be as momentous a decision as he was making it in his own fool head.

It was a simple matter of preference. Why discard a book he liked, or a chair that suited him? He enjoyed Felix’s company- would he work himself into a frenzy if he found he didn’t care to banish Felix after six years? The boy’s blood alone offered a compelling reason to keep him. There was no reason to regret his distracted promise.

So why was he still panicking?

He needed to think this through rationally. If he went over all the perfectly valid reasons why this was fine one more time, then he would see sense and stop feeling so raw and nervous. He just-

Hanyu let out a snore so loud that it chased every thought, rational and irrational alike, right out of Antony’s head.

For goodness’ sake, how did the boy ever manage to sleep through his own noise? Antony knew from experience that it was cacophonous enough to raise the dead… or, he amended, the mostly dead, anyway. But Hanyu slept peacefully on, completely undisturbed by the racket coming from his own throat. 

Antony felt Hanyu’s jaw sag open against the back of his own head. A moment later, telltale dampness began to soak through his hair. The boy was drooling on him.

Disgusting. So why were Antony’s lips twitching up?

The amusement was tinged too liberally with fondness, which made Antony panicky again for some reason. He distracted himself with plans. 

Tomorrow was an exercise day. When Hanyu got back, Antony resolved, he would try some pencil sketches and see whether that was a better medium for capturing his offering’s likeness than painting.

It would be lovely to do Hanyu’s hair again… though of course, if he meant to make casual sketches, he might need a new excuse for the primping. It didn’t even need to be an especially elaborate hairstyle. He imagined the boy with a loose braid, like the ones Theo favored.

She kept herself tidy these days, hair included, but he suddenly remembered that when they were children, her hair had been wildly tangled most of the time. She used to scream and fight whenever any of her servants tried to comb it. Antony remembered her efforts to explain the unbearable overstimulation of bristles on her scalp. He’d been confused, but he and Claudia had filled her hair with flowers, careful not to touch her scalp, in the hopes that no one would disturb such elegantly decorated tresses.

He didn’t remember whether the ploy had worked. He rather suspected that it had not. Theodora had been the orphaned niece of the consort, who had not had a great deal of patience for her ward’s eccentricities. Not least, she had disapproved of Theo’s choice of playfellows.

Antony supposed that he could understand her displeasure from his adult perspective. It must not have been easy to see her own children rejected in favor of her husband’s offspring by one of his many concubines, even if the one doing the rejecting was only another child. The consort must have already lived in fear that Antony and his siblings would one day wrest far greater prizes than a strange, lonely little girl’s friendship away from her own brood.

Antony wondered, not for the first time, whether the consort had been the one to sow animosity between them and their trueborn half-siblings. Could they have all grown up as friends? Now that those regal princes were all dust, it was easier to think charitably about them.

The eldest of them all, for example. The crown prince. Had she really been so bad? She had had a penchant for humiliating the concubines at formal events, he knew. She’d been particularly rough on his mother, one of only a few women in their number and the only one to bear the king any bastards. But had that been her own natural inclination towards cruelty, or had she been put up to it? Had she seen it as her only way to defend her mother’s honor?

The memories were hazy now, as were all memories from before the curse. His senses had been so much duller back then that it was like trying to recall the exact dimensions of a dream. Still, he thought he remembered the crown prince having a soft spot for Titus and sending him his favorite sweets every year for his birthday. Maybe, if her mother had felt less threatened by them…

It probably wouldn’t have mattered. Some things were simply not meant to be. Even if the consort had loved them all as if they were her own, it was inevitable that the king’s trueborn heirs would one day look with suspicion on their bastard siblings.

Especially if one of those siblings was a fucking idiot who didn’t know when to keep his head down.

That was a well-worn mental trail of regret and self-loathing. But before he could advance too far down it, Hanyu’s snore choked off in a half-strangled cry and his arm swung up, bopping Antony solidly on the nose.

“Nooo,” the boy whined, his voice thick with sleep. “I can’t!”

Antony squirmed around until he was facing Hanyu. His offering’s eyes were open, but glazed and bleary, and his mouth hung slack. He looked so sleepy and foolish that Antony had to work a little to disregard a tender pang in his chest.

“You’re all right,” he told Hanyu.

Hanyu only goggled at him. “It’s not fair! I don’t want to!”

“All right.” Antony raised a hand and smoothed the boy’s hair away from his sweaty face, telling himself that it was only to sooth his offering. “You don’t have to do anything. Just go back to sleep.”

“No!” Hanyu said petulantly, but he was already closing his eyes and slumping against the pillows.

Antony didn’t realize he’d been caught in the moment, gazing fondly down at his offering’s slackening face, until Hanyu gave a great stretch. As he flung his arms wide, he planted a big, sweaty hand directly on Antony’s forehead. Antony found himself shoved towards the edge of the bed.

It was going to be another night of stolen covers and hogged bed space, he realized. He was going to wake up and find himself curled into a corner of his own damn mattress while his great lug of an offering sprawled over the rest of the space.

He should shove back. He should shove Hanyu right out of the bed and onto the pallet that still lay abandoned next to it. He should…

He fell asleep, still too busy reflecting on all the things he ought to be doing to push Hanyu’s hand off his face.

Chapter Text

HANYU’S POV

Hanyu wasn’t really disobeying.

It had been several weeks since anybody had bothered escorting him back to Antony’s rooms after exercise abovedeck. He knew his own way by now. So, when he walked past his master’s door and kept going, it was really just a detour, not disobedience. He would come back, just as soon as he found Eiji in the kitchens and apologized.

He had planned to apologize when Eiji came with his food, but his beautiful predecessor hadn’t been the one to deliver anything at all yesterday. Hanyu hadn’t seen him in the hallway as Antony walked him back and forth from Lord Theodora’s rooms to read to Chujiro, either. Hanyu had considered simply waiting- surely Eiji had to come back sometime - but he just couldn’t stand to leave things as they were.

He had been so horribly thoughtless. For all the times he’d reminded himself not to trumpet his happiness before Asao, he’d forgotten to avoid trumpeting it before the only person it would hurt even more. After growing up with Asao, he shouldn’t have needed to be reminded: annoyingly beautiful people had feelings, too.

He just needed to find the kitchens. He’d been there once, so he didn’t think it would be hard, but he must have taken a wrong turn somewhere because he’d been wandering aimlessly through the same tight corridors for what felt like a quarter hour. He was no longer sure that he’d even be able to find his way back to his own rooms.

A door opened behind him, and he spun to see who it was, his heart thudding guiltily. His pulse only spiked further when he recognized Antony’s lover, Lord Marcus, looking him over with a slow smile.

Hanyu began to kneel, but the big god stopped him with a lazy wave of his hand. His smile just kept spreading over his handsome face, slow as syrup.

“Dear me,” Lord Marcus said. “I wondered who was pacing around out here, but I never would have guessed that it would be my Annie’s pretty new pet. Are you lost, little one?”

Hanyu was only half a head shorter than Lord Marcus, but under those big, dark eyes he felt very little indeed.

“I…” he stammered. “Um… Yes, my lord. Please forgive me for disturbing you.”

Lord Marcus moved forward, and Hanyu had to stiffen and strain to keep from doing something disrespectful, like backing away. “No, no, no apologies needed. This is perfect. I’ve been hoping for a chance to get to know you a little. Hanyu, is it?”

“Yes, my lord.”

The god’s sharp gaze never left Hanyu’s face. His heart was battering wildly at his ribs- could Lord Marcus hear it?

The god nodded. “Hanyu. Tell me, Hanyu, what is it about you that’s wreaking such havoc with my lover’s mental state?”

Lord Marcus was circling him now, gaze raking up and down his body in such a way that Hanyu, not a naturally modest person, wanted to clutch his robe tighter to cover himself entirely.

“It isn’t your looks.” Then, all sweet concern, “Don’t misunderstand, you’re pretty enough. Everyone is pretty enough at twenty. But his last man was much prettier, and he never so much as glanced his way. So, what is it? Not your flawless manners, as I’ve seen. And I hardly think it’s your sparkling intellect.”

Shameful heat flooded Hanyu’s face, but even if he’d been allowed to respond he would have had no arguments. Nothing Lord Marcus was saying was incorrect, however mocking his tone.

“I would assume you were an excellent fuck, but Asao seems quite sure that you haven’t been used for that.”

Hanyu’s heart stuttered and his blood chilled. Asao told…?

“Not sex, not beauty, not manners, not brains. What does that leave?” Lord Marcus wondered.

He stopped his slow circling and stood in front of Hanyu, arms crossed loosely over his wide chest. That was somehow even worse than the movement.

“What is it you do?” the god mused. “Do you flutter your lashes, play at weakness, and make him feel like a hero? I thought he’d outgrown his savior fetish, but perhaps not. Or do you cry and pretend to be afraid? Is he still unable to frighten someone without apologizing for it?”

That last one might have been true, Hanyu realized. He did cry a great deal. But it hardly seemed likely that a lord of the gods would crumple at the sight of tears…

Well. Lord Marcus would certainly know more about Antony’s predilections than he did.

“It’s been quite some time since I’ve been at such a loss,” Lord Marcus said finally. “I do hate to skip to the end of the mystery, but it seems I must. Go on, little Hanyu. Tell me how you’ve managed to get your claws into my lover in such a short time.”

Panic whined high and distracting in Hanyu’s ears. How was he supposed to think of an answer when he was pinned under those sharp eyes? What kind of answer could he even give? A warm line slid down his cheek and he realized that he had started to cry.

“I’m not… I don’t have my claws in him, my lord,” he managed. “I just want to serve.”

Lord Marcus raised a single dark brow. “You’d be punished for that if you were mine. I don’t tolerate lying.”

“It’s not a lie!” Hanyu’s voice was a squeak, his mind a tight thrumming ball of fear. The terrible calm of the big god’s voice did nothing to blunt the threat. “Please, my lord, I don’t know why he’s so nice to me!”

“ ‘Nice,’ is he?”

Lord Marcus prowled closer again, and this time Hanyu couldn’t fight his need to back away. The god didn’t slow his movements. Hanyu took another step back and bumped against the wall. Trapped.

“How has he been nice, precisely?” Lord Marcus asked.

Why didn’t he raise his voice? Why didn’t he stop smiling? Hanyu would have preferred anger and threats to this unruffled patience.

“M-My lord is merciful and retains my service, despite my unworthiness!” Hanyu faltered.

It was a rote, priest-approved answer, and he didn’t really expect it to satisfy the god.

It did not.

“You can do better than that, Hanyu.” If anything, Lord Marcus sounded amused. “I know something unusual is happening between you and my lover.”

“I wouldn’t know what’s unusual, sir! I just got here!” Even to his own ears, Hanyu’s voice sounded pathetic, almost a desperate wail.

“Twice now he’s intervened for my Asao,” Lord Marcus said, as if he hadn’t heard. “My silly boy seems quite besotted with him as a result. But I don’t believe he keeps doing it for Asao’s sake. I think he does it to please you, little Hanyu.”

Hanyu started to shake his head, then caught himself halfway through the gesture. “Please, my lord, I don’t presume to know why my master does what he does. My job is to obey, not understand.”

He could never remember the priests’ maxims when he needed to remind himself how to behave, but they spilled easily from his lips now. Anything to placate the god and get him to let Hanyu go.

Lord Marcus favored him with a grin, wide and dazzling and, surprisingly, deeply dimpled. It was such a bright, boyish smile that it made the lethal fangs it revealed all the more menacing.

“Just so,” the god said pleasantly. “I see that you do have some manners after all, no matter what Asao says about you.”

“Says?” Hanyu faltered, distress cutting through his fear. “W-What do you mean, my lord? What does Asao say?”

Lord Marcus tsk-ed sharply, and Hanyu cringed back against the wall.

“Now now, do you really expect me to answer your questions when you haven’t answered mine? You’re a demanding little thing, aren’t you? Well, I’m not Antony and I don’t coddle ungrateful brats. Tell me what you meant when you said that my Annie has been nice.”

Hanyu froze. He opened his mouth to reply, then shut it when he realized he didn’t know what to say.

Lord Marcus stood before him, perfectly at his ease, seeming to lounge even though there was nothing for him to lean against. His eyes never left Hanyu’s.

There was a blur of movement, the god’s hand flying towards Hanyu, and Hanyu opened his mouth to scream. What came out was instead a choked whimper as Lord Marcus’ fingers deftly plucked a loose hair from Hanyu’s robe. The god kept his eyes on Hanyu’s face as he let the hair fall.

“Come on,” he said, almost coaxing.

His hand flew out again. Another hair. Terror stampeded through Hanyu’s body, hot then cold then hot again, tears flowed freely down his face, and his bladder burned. Was he in danger of wetting himself? He cowered against the wall as Lord Marcus reached out again. Dammit, how many hairs could one person shed onto his clothes?

A door creaked open several yards away, and Hanyu cast his eyes desperately in the direction of the sound. Rescue?

It took his panic-blank mind a moment to recognize the figure that appeared. He was a little short, though not as small as Antony, and had a generous belly and a round, rather dull face. His clothes and hair were impeccably neat. He sent an inquisitive glance in their direction and finally, Hanyu realized who it was.

“Lord Thaddeus!” he cried, his voice breaking a little.

The god’s expression of curiosity morphed into one of polite attention. “Oh, hello Hanyu.”

Now what?

Everything in Hanyu was screaming to beg for help, but what would he even complain of? Please save me, Lord Marcus is asking questions and picking hairs off my robe! He would sound unhinged.

But Lord Thaddeus was safe, wasn’t he? He’d spared his attendant, and Antony had spoken highly of him. Antony had even suggested that Lord Thaddeus and Hanyu could meet up and…

“I’m so sorry to be late, my lord!” Hanyu blurted before he could think better of it. “I got lost. Please forgive my tardiness! It’s an honor that you would take the time to teach me about fish!”

For a moment, the whole world seemed to hold its breath in solidarity with Hanyu. He tried not to let his face show too much pleading as he gazed, petrified, at the confused god.

Lord Thaddeus’ face only pinched in bewilderment for the briefest of moments, then he was beaming at Hanyu.

“That’s quite all right!” he said. “I was just coming to look for you. I’m glad Marcus was able to steer you right. Thank you, Marcus!”

The bigger god had never looked away from Hanyu. He didn’t do so now as he stepped back.

“My pleasure.”

Hanyu breathed in, and it was as if he’d never tasted true, free air before this moment. His knees were shaking so hard that he had to lock them in order to step past Lord Marcus instead of collapsing to the floorboards.

Lord Thaddeus had pulled his door open and was gesturing Hanyu inside with an untroubled smile. Weak with gratitude, Hanyu tottered towards him… only to freeze at the sound of Lord Marcus’ voice.

“One moment, little Hanyu,” the god drawled. “Pass a message along to Antony for me, there’s a good boy.”

Hanyu swallowed a whimper. “Y-Yes, my lord?”

He planted his feet and forced himself to stay still as Lord Marcus sauntered up to him and leaned in close. The god’s breath battered at his ear.

“Perhaps I misspoke. This is a message about your master, but it’s for you. I hope for your sake that you’re right about your standing with my Annie, little one. You’re in more danger if he does care about you. He killed every human he’s ever taken to his bed, as well as his own mother.”

Then Lord Marcus was walking calmly up the hallway, and Hanyu was free to stumble past Lord Thaddeus’ gesturing hand and into the fish god’s chambers.

Hanyu was only dimly aware of a cluster of soft chairs and huge bookshelves and a man, probably Daido, and a woman (a god) looking up from their spots at a low table before the door shut and he was collapsing at Lord Thaddeus’ feet in what was less a bow than a heap.

“Thank you thank you thank you,” he chanted in one long exhalation. Get hold of yourself. You’re not out of danger yet. “I am so sorry for lying and imposing on your kindness and- please forgive me, my lord!”

“D-dear me. Oh, now.” Lord Thaddeus sounded almost as frazzled as Hanyu himself. “No need for that. Come on, get up. It’s no trouble. Don’t give it another thought.”

Hanyu tried to obey, but his limbs were really shaking now that the fear was leaving him and, in the end, he just rolled himself onto his back and looked up at the god that way.

“He’s Antony’s?” someone asked from the table, and then there were steps and the door opening and closing again.

Lord Thaddeus knelt beside him and blinked down worriedly, one hand flapping in the air. “Oh dear. Are you all right?”

“Yes sir.”

Hanyu decided he would let himself lie there for a moment. Just until his heart stopped flailing in his chest and his limbs stopped being made of limp, floppy seaweed. His still-flowing tears dripped into his ears.

There were a few steps, then Daido was kneeling on Hanyu’s other side, his concerned face a mirror for his master’s expression. “What’s going on?”

“Marcus had him cornered in the hallway,” Lord Thaddeus explained. “What was he doing to you, Hanyu? Did he touch you?”

“Not… really, no,” Hanyu admitted.

Not enough to count. Just his clothes. How would Hanyu even manage to explain why he had been so frightened? They would probably call him an oversensitive coward, or else just laugh in his face.

“He just wanted to ask me questions. I don’t know why I got so scared. I’m sorry for troubling you, my lord.”

“I told you, it’s no trouble. And my guess is that you got so scared because it’s fucking Marcus, if you’ll excuse my language.” Lord Thaddeus looked down bashfully.

Hanyu didn’t think he’d heard anyone apologize for swearing since he was a child. It was strangely comforting, and the tight, twitching panic in his chest started to ease just a little.

“Do you need some water?” Lord Thaddeus was already standing, giving Hanyu no time to reply. “I’ll get you some water.”

Hanyu pushed himself up to a sitting position and stared down into his shaking hands. A teardrop landed in one of his palms, but only one. His sobs were subsiding.

He could think about everything that had just happened later. Right now he had other problems to deal with. If he could just get back to Antony’s rooms, everything would be fine. He would be safe.

Or… not? Lord Marcus’ parting words swelled to fill every bit of his mind that panic was leaving empty. He killed his mother and every human he’s ever taken to his bed.

Lord Thaddeus was back with the water. “Here you go!”

Hanyu gratefully pushed his tangled thoughts aside and accepted the cup, draining it in a few greedy swallows. He was all too aware of two worried pairs of eyes fixed on him.

“You’ve been so kind, my lord,” he said when he was finished. “I can go now. I won’t trouble you anymore.”

“Nonsense.” For the first time, the mild god sounded firm. “For all we know Marcus is still skulking around in the hallway waiting for you.”

“But I need to get back to Antony’s- I mean, my master’s rooms.” Damn, he couldn’t let himself slip like that or he really would get his first-name privileges revoked.

“I’ll walk you back, then,” Lord Thaddeus offered. “I’ll feel better if I see you safe with my own eyes. You’d be indulging me, really.”

Hanyu was already very late. If Antony were keeping track of time today, he would already be wondering where Hanyu was. As long as Hanyu returned alone, perhaps he could pretend he had simply gotten caught up in conversation with a friend. But if he were to be deposited on his god’s doorstep under escort like a meal tray, there would be no hope of hiding his… creative interpretation of the rules.

Gods. Not only had all of that just happened, but he was also about to get caught in disobedience. What a lousy day.

“Please, my lord, I wasn’t supposed to be out on my own,” Hanyu confessed in a near-whisper.

To his surprise, Lord Thaddeus didn’t glower or look disgusted. He just pinched his brows together.

“We can tell him that I dragged you off to show you a new sample of mine,” the god said after a moment. “He knows I tend to pounce on the first people I can find when Cloelia brings me something new.”

Hanyu blinked up at Lord Thaddeus in astonishment, his brain trailing a few sluggish steps behind the conversation. Was this god really offering to lie to Antony to conceal Hanyu’s disobedience? Could he possibly be serious?

“That probably won’t work.” Hanyu’s head whipped around at the sound of Daido’s soft voice. The other human had been so quiet, Hanyu had almost forgotten he was there. “I’m fairly sure that Lord Julia was on her way to fetch Lord Antony.”

Lord Thaddeus frowned. “Oh dear. Why didn’t she stay to look him over? She’s the medical-”

The god was interrupted when the door flew open and Antony tumbled into the room, braid flying and eyes wild.

Hanyu’s heart leaped at the sight of his own beloved god. Just for a moment, he forgot the fear of what Marcus had said and done and his own disobedience in a great rush of joy. He’s here. I’m safe. Finally.

Lord Thaddeus was less safe. Antony tripped over the kneeling god with what Hanyu was sure was bruising force, but his master didn’t even pause to check on his fellow deity.

He just dropped down beside him, took one look at Hanyu’s face, and then pulled him into a tight hug.

Chapter Text

ANTONY’S POV

Antony had been absorbed in a book when the knock came.

He was lucky to have a taste for rereading. Those of his crew who were bored by revisiting books often found themselves frustrated by the storage limitations of the ship. As for him, this was probably his twentieth time reading this history from Krem and he was enjoying it as much as ever.

The knock was hard and fast, startling Antony so much that he almost dropped the book. Instead, he set it down carefully and started for the door, wondering as he did how much time had passed. Shouldn’t Hanyu be back by now…?

He ran the last few steps to the door.

Julia was on the other side, looking a little pensive. Coming from her, it was practically a tidal wave of concern.

“What happened to him?” Antony demanded.

As soon as the words were out of his mouth he wished he could call them back, but Julia didn’t so much as blink.

“He’s not hurt,” she said. “I didn’t smell blood. But he’s upset, and I don’t know why. Thad has him in his room.”

That relaxed Antony the tiniest bit. He didn’t need to worry that anything else would happen to the poor boy as long as he was with Thaddeus.

Still, he found himself charging ahead of Julia, half-running until he crashed through Thaddeus’ door without knocking and stepped on Thaddeus himself, who was kneeling in front of a familiar figure.

Hanyu sprawled awkwardly on the floor, his legs sticking out straight in front of him and taking up half of what little open space Thaddeus had in his doorway. 

When Antony knelt in front of him, his stomach clenched painfully at the state of his offering. The boy’s face was pale, his hands were shaking a little, and his eyes were red-rimmed and still spilling tears. Fear hung over him like a stench.

But when his eyes met Antony’s, Hanyu’s quivering lips slipped up into a tiny, unconscious smile.

Antony didn’t even have the time to question whether it was a good idea. He just lunged forward and dragged Hanyu into his arms.

He wished that he were bigger. He wished that he were Marcus or Felix and could envelop the trembling boy entirely. He wished his arms and shoulders were wide enough that he could enfold Hanyu like a blanket. As it was, being on his knees while Hanyu was sitting gave him just enough of a height advantage to cradle the boy’s head on his shoulder. Hanyu’s arms went around him and clutched hard.

The door thudded shut and Antony stiffened. He’d forgotten that there were others present.

A quick glance showed that the sound had come from Julia closing the door behind herself. Aside from her, the only other ones present were Thaddeus and his attendant Daido. No one who was likely to judge Antony for this display of affection or to gossip about it later.

He relaxed again and allowed himself a moment to simply savor the feeling of holding Hanyu close and safe. The moment of peace ended when he became aware of just how hard the boy’s heart was hammering against him.

What the fuck happened?

He took a moment to calm himself before speaking. It wouldn’t do to frighten the boy further. Once he was sure he had control of himself, Antony pulled back from the embrace just enough that he could look at Thaddeus.

“I don’t imagine you’re the one who upset my attendant this much,” he said.

Thaddeus shook his head. “Marcus had him backed up against the wall. He was scaring him.”

Oh, no.

His rage fizzled under the sudden rush of confusion and apprehension. Marcus. Why did it have to be Marcus? Why would Marcus bother Hanyu? Most importantly-

“What did he do to you, Hanyu?”

“N-Nothing.” There was the boy’s voice at last, weak and muffled by Antony’s shoulder. “He was just asking questions.”

Questions that had shaken his offering this badly.

“What kinds of questions?”

Hanyu hesitated, then said softly, “He wanted to know… things about you.” 

“What?” This situation got stranger by the second. “What does he think you know about me that he doesn’t?”

Hanyu flushed and hid his face in Antony’s shoulder. “He said I had my claws in you, and he wanted to know how.”

Claws? What in the world?

“He’s jealous?” Antony could hear the disbelief plain in his own voice.

“I don’t know.” Hanyu nuzzled closer, then added a belated, “My lord.”

Right. They needed to discuss this away from prying eyes. The last thing Hanyu needed right now was to worry about forgetting his honorifics.

All Antony wanted in the world was to scoop Hanyu into his arms and carry him back to their rooms. But the hallways might not be empty, and he didn't want unfounded whispers going around that he’d lost his mind over his new pet. He stood, then pulled Hanyu up after him.

“Thank you for taking him in, Thad,” he said. “Sorry I stepped on you.”

Thaddeus fluttered his hands, distressed. All these years, and the poor fellow still couldn’t handle gratitude.

“Not at all! He was no trouble. Don’t give it another thought.”

Hanyu dipped his head in Thaddeus’ direction. “If I may...? I’m sorry to follow a favor by asking for another, but I really would love to hear about fish sometime, my lord. Was what you said the other day true? Do some of them birth their young live?”

Thaddeus’ face lit up and he opened his mouth to answer, but Antony was hustling Hanyu through the door already.

“Another time. Thank you again.”

It was a short walk back to his rooms, but Antony still kept a worried eye on his offering. The boy’s legs seemed to hold him up steadily enough, but there was still a noticeable tremor in his hands. How menacing had Marcus been?

Once they were safely home, Antony gave in to his instincts and swept Hanyu off his feet. The boy made a sound that might have been surprise or protest, but before he had time to say anything, Antony had deposited him carefully on the sofa.

“He didn’t hurt you?” Antony asked, crouching down in front of him.

“No.” Hanyu shook his head. “Please, Antony, this feels improper.”

Antony blinked up in confusion. “What?”

“M-Me sitting, you down there,” Hanyu faltered, gesturing.

Oh, for goodness’ sake. Antony waved his hand impatiently and tried to keep his irritation from showing on his face.

“Don’t change the subject,” he ordered. “What did Marcus do to you?”

“Nothing!” the boy moaned. “He just wanted to ask me questions, but I was… scared. I don’t know how to explain it! He was standing too close and he just kept asking and it scared me!”

Antony noticed that at the moment, he himself was leaning close to Hanyu and repeating his questions. He crab-walked backwards a step and settled back into his crouch, but the questions had to continue. He needed to understand what had happened today.

“What did he want to know? What did he mean about you having your claws in me?”

“He wanted to know why you were being so nice to me. He said it wasn’t my looks or my brains or anything and that you were different with me than your other offerings, but how would I know that? I wasn’t here!”

Dammit. Of course Marcus had picked up on Antony’s strange softness with this boy. His lover wasn’t stupid or blind, and he’d known Antony for a hell of a long time.

But what was all this about? Jealousy? Simple curiosity? Why would Marcus approach Hanyu instead of him? Had he been planning it?

“He thought it might be because you felt bad for me on account of my crying so much,” the boy continued. “Is that true? Is that why you’re so easy on me?”

On that point, Antony was clear. “No, it isn’t. Anyhow, I don’t know that I’m all that easy on you.”

“You are.” Something about that thought made Hanyu start crying again.

Antony was at a loss. What was he supposed to do about this? He brought water. Hanyu accepted it. He brought a handkerchief. Hanyu accepted that, too. But the boy didn’t stop crying. Usually, Antony could just let Hanyu cry himself out. But right now, he had questions that needed answering.

To be fair, Hanyu couldn’t answer most of them. What Antony needed to know most urgently was whether Marcus had planned their meeting.

He tried to construct the scenario in his mind. Had Marcus been waiting for the offerings to return from their exercise? But then, Hanyu would have been walking with the others. And regardless, that would have been some time ago. Had Asao kept Hanyu late, on his master’s orders? But if so, where was the other boy when Thaddeus found them? And what were they all doing in the next hallway?

“Did Asao bring you to Marcus after you were done exercising?” he asked. “How did you end up all the way-”

He had to cut off his question when Hanyu gave a strangled sob and lunged forward as if he meant to throw himself off the couch. At the last moment, the boy stopped himself, which was fortunate since he would have smashed Antony where he crouched before him.

“I’m sorry!” the boy cried. “I’m so so so sorry, please forgive me!”

Oh, now what?

Hanyu went on, wailing. “I didn’t mean to disobey! I just wanted to find the kitchen so I could apologize to Eiji on my way back.”

“On your way back,” Antony repeated dumbly.

The boy would have had to walk right past his door. How did that count as ‘on the way back?’ Furthermore…

“Why did you need to apologize to Eiji?” 

He could feel another phantom headache looming. When was his body going to let go of this response?

Not as long as Hanyu was around, he suspected.

The boy blinked tearily up at him. “F-For shouting about how you’re- how you were planning to keep me. It probably hurt his feelings.”

There was so much to process in that statement.

Had Hanyu’s news hurt Eiji’s feelings? Why on earth would it? Antony hadn’t been as kind as he should have been to Eiji- he knew that- but surely that meant that he wouldn’t have wanted to stay with Antony anyway. Besides, the other offering belonged to Felix now. As far as Antony could tell, that trade had worked out in Eiji’s favor.

And there was still the part of the story where Hanyu had blatantly disregarded one of Antony’s few rules and wandered off on his own without permission, or even any kind of warning. And the part where Antony’s lover had seized the opportunity to torment the boy for no damn reason. But Antony shoved all that aside for the moment because there was one thing that had to be addressed before anything else.

He sighed and dropped from his crouch to sit cross-legged on the floor. Clearly, this conversation wasn’t going to be over anytime soon.

“You switched,” he said. “You said I ‘was’ keeping you. I’m still keeping you, Hanyu.”

Another great flood of tears, and Hanyu lowered himself from the sofa- not to grovel, as he’d clearly been planning to do before, but to cram as much of himself as he could manage into Antony’s lap. He ended up sprawled on the floor, arms locked around Antony’s waist and head buried in Antony’s torso.

It... wasn’t awful, being clung to like that. It settled some of the whirling in Antony’s mind. He didn’t have the willpower to stop himself from stroking the tousled golden hair.

“Thank you,” Hanyu said, his voice muffled by Antony’s shirt. “I don’t mind any punishment if you keep me.”

“Not much point in a punishment if you don’t mind it, is there?” Antony grumbled, closing his eyes and savoring the big warm body, the soft hair under his fingers.

Hanyu flinched. “I didn’t mean it like that!”

“Oh, hush.” Antony paused his stroking to press Hanyu’s head into his middle, quelling the boy’s protest. “Just relax, all right? We can talk about everything later. But you’ve had a scare, so…relax.”

He didn’t know where Titus was. He didn’t know any way to help Asao. He didn’t know what to do about Marcus. He didn’t know what his lover was thinking or why he had done this or what he might try next. He didn’t know what to do about Hanyu’s disobedience.

But for once, Antony felt that he knew what Hanyu needed from him in this moment. It might not be much compared with the great heap of things he couldn’t control, but it was better than nothing.

“I’m sorry,” Hanyu said around another sob. “Thank you, Antony.”

Antony ignored the softness that overtook him at the words, and the fear that curdled his belly in response to that softness. He just went back to stroking Hanyu’s hair.

When he’d told Hanyu that he meant to keep him, it had been an accident. Now the words felt different, deliberate. 

Antony didn’t just want to maintain a comfortable equilibrium. He wanted to keep Hanyu, keep him safe and close. He wanted to be the person that Hanyu smiled at and chattered to and cuddled close to at night. He wanted to prove that he could be a master worthy of the relief the boy had shown at the sight of him today. He wanted…

There was no need to overthink these feelings. They didn’t mean anything, and no one else would read as much into the decision as Antony himself seemed determined to do. The temple would be surprised, and so would his crew, but that wasn’t something he needed to worry about for several years yet. Right now, there was only one fact that mattered.

He set about working a tangle out of Hanyu’s hair. “Don’t be stupid, boy. Of course I’m keeping you.”

Chapter Text

HANYU’S POV

Antony spent the next hour coddling Hanyu. He refused to discuss Hanyu’s punishment. He refused to let Hanyu make suggestions about what it should be. And he refused to let Hanyu out of his arms.

That part was nice, Hanyu had to admit. Under any other circumstances, he would have been elated. Though he was still too rattled for any great flights of joy, he didn’t think he’d ever felt so protected in his life. Slowly, the clamor of his panic was dying down and allowing him to think again.

Thinking wasn’t as much of a relief as he’d hoped. Lord Marcus’ words kept turning over and over in his mind.

He killed his mother and every human he’s ever taken to his bed.

It seemed impossible. Antony had barely raised his voice to Hanyu. He’d hurt him only as a performance. He had extended mercy at every turn. He was cradling Hanyu against his chest like a treasure in this moment, after Hanyu had disobeyed him. How could he have…?

Was Lord Marcus making it up to scare Hanyu? That might not be the most respectful thought, but Lord Marcus wasn’t his master and never would be, so he didn’t feel too guilty about turning it around in his mind. Had the god lied?

Somehow, Hanyu didn’t think so. It would explain a lot about Antony’s refusal to discuss his loves from before Marcus. It would also explain why Hanyu’s swoon had frightened Antony so badly- and if it scared Antony, that meant it had been an accident, didn’t it? It had been an accident, and Antony was sorry… that is, if it had even happened. Which it probably hadn’t.

It hardly mattered. The question had been planted and now Hanyu would have no peace until he got an answer. But he didn’t dare ask Antony about it until he knew what his punishment was going to be. He didn’t want to make things worse for himself than they already were.

However, this peace couldn’t last much longer. Hanyu squirmed in the tight embrace.

“Um, Antony?” He should have said my lord since he was in disgrace. “I need to go to the washroom.”

The god’s arms, which had been clamped over him like a vise, relaxed and pulled away. Hanyu missed the touch at once, but it felt good to sit up properly and straighten himself out. He stretched, luxuriating in the stretch of his muscles and the creaking of his bones.

He didn’t dare look at his master as he moved past him to the washroom. He wasn’t exactly afraid- he knew Antony wasn’t going to hurt him- but he felt shy of meeting the god’s eye. He was afraid of seeing the same hurt on Antony’s face that had been there after he’d snooped in the trunks.

When he returned, Antony was sitting on the sofa, pulling on his boots.

“Let’s go see Theo,” the god said. “I need to clear my head, and nothing will help with that more than one of your ridiculous flesh scepter books.”

Hanyu blinked a few times, then found his voice. “All right.”

He felt a little blindsided, but he had no real objection to the plan. Even if he had, this was hardly the time to be defiant.

Bunta met them at the door. Hanyu might have been mistaken, but he could have sworn that the older man shot Lord Antony a poisonous look before making his bow.

“My lord will be glad to see you,” Bunta said. His voice was so even and untroubled that Hanyu decided he must have been mistaken. “Chujiro has had a good day. He’ll appreciate the reading.”

When they entered Chujiro’s room, Hanyu was surprised to find it already full to bursting. Chujiro was, of course, in his bed, looking as sunken and ill as he had before. Lord Theodora was curled in the big chair, Gyuri was glowering from a corner, and Kenta was standing beside Chujiro’s bed and singing.

“The false knight knelt before his queen

And lied through his oath in the garden gree-”

His smooth, sweet baritone cut off as he noticed his new audience and flushed, making a deep bow from the waist.

“M-My lord!” he stammered. “Forgive me, I didn’t see-”

“Never mind.” Antony dropped down and sat cross-legged on the floor beside Lord Theodora’s chair. “You’re very talented. Hanyu and Theo said as much, of course, but you’re better than I expected.”

“Isn’t he wonderful? He cheats, though,” Lord Theodora said. “He changes lyrics to give the characters happier endings. Chujiro told him off for that already once today, didn’t you, you old curmudgeon?”

Chujiro made a vague sound that could have been either agreement or simple confusion. The yellowish cast of his skin was more pronounced today and Hanyu was sure now that it didn’t come from the torchlight.

He’d never seen someone so old and frail before. It made him feel tender and a little spooked, but he could tell that it affected Antony far more.

The god always looked everywhere in the room except at Chujiro, and when the old man spoke his shoulders went tense and rigid. Hanyu supposed that age seemed very terrible to someone immortal, but still, something about Antony’s discomfort made him nervous too.

Kenta backed away, blushing. “You all honor me more than I deserve. I’m happy to cede the stage to Hanyu now. You were just starting a book, weren’t you, Theo- my lord?”

Kenta flushed at his slip and darted a nervous glance at Antony, but the god didn’t react.

“Would you like that, Chujiro?” Lord Theodora asked. “We did leave the poor duke right before the ball.”

“All right.” The old man’s voice was barely more than a whisper now.

Lord Theodora uncurled herself from the chair, then she and Kenta went to sit on opposite sides of Gyuri. The Surgish woman glared, but Hanyu thought he detected a slight softening at the corners of her hard, thin lips.

Hanyu sat down and took the little book from the floor beside it. There was a scrap of fabric marking a page, so he flipped over to it.

“Chapter Three,” he read. “The duke ran their hands over the rich embroidery of their gown and stared into the mirror. The sight that greeted them was no better than usual. Their eyes were a strange color, either sapphire blue or emerald green depending on the light, and much too large and bright, just as their lips were too full and red. They were a freak. No one would ever want to dance with somebody who looked like this.”

Hanyu relaxed into the reading. He was surprised by how much he was coming to enjoy this. Back at the temple, he’d read for instructors and been graded on his prowess. Now he was learning how much fun it could be to read aloud for pleasure, to a small group of people he liked. There was a closeness and intimacy in it that caught him off guard sometimes.

“The duke gazed down at the beautiful lady in their arms. She smiled back at them, and the duke was lost in her determined brown eyes. They knew at once that they would give their life for a single kiss from those sweet lips.”

Hanyu glanced up at that, already learning how everyone in his little audience would react. Antony rolled his eyes and groaned, but quietly enough that he wouldn’t miss the next lines. Kenta was looking at Gyuri under his lashes, a faint flush on his cheeks. Lord Theodora, surprisingly less daring, only darted the quickest of looks at the Surgish woman. Gyuri, for her part, ignored them both and frowned straight ahead, her brow drawn tight in concentration. No doubt she was trying to follow the story based on only a handful of words here and there. Learning an entire language seemed like such a laborious task.

And Chujiro, Hanyu’s most important listener despite the presence of two gods, stared past him, cloudy eyes fixed on the bit of curtain that served as a doorway. Was he simply staring at nothing as he envisioned the story? Or was he waiting for someone to walk into the room?

Hanyu was facilitating all of these moments. Something that could be as individual as reading a book had been transformed. He was hit with a powerful wave of gratitude that, instead of reading by themselves, everyone had put their experience of this book into his hands. It might have only been a silly story, but by hearing it together, it had become something sacred and communal. He’d never known that reading could be like this.

Sentimental tears blurred his eyes, and he had to whisk them away to continue. After a while, though, his voice steadied and he went on for another chapter without pausing.

“The duke stamped their foot in frustration. “You don’t understand me, Mother! You never have! When I marry, it will be for love!” they cried.”

Eventually, he dared another glance at Antony. The god did seem relaxed. Maybe this hadn’t been such a strange idea after all.

When he reached the end of that chapter, however, Antony looked over at Lord Theodora.

“Theo, would you mind if I left Hanyu here for a little while longer?” he asked. “I need to ask Felix about something.”

“Of course!” Lord Theodora directed her words towards Hanyu. “You’re always welcome here. It’s the least I can do after pressing you into forced labor on all your visits.”

“Thank you, my lord,” Hanyu managed around the panicky lump that had sprung up in his throat.

Antony seemed to catch the off note in his voice. The god smiled at him and gave his shoulder a reassuring squeeze as he passed.

“I’ll be back soon, pet,” Antony promised, and then he was through the curtains and gone.

Hanyu swallowed hard. Lord Marcus might have been right about his intelligence, but even he knew that when Antony found Lord Felix, they were going to talk about him and what he’d done. He supposed he should just be grateful that his master was consulting with Lord Felix and not a more fearsome god. By all accounts, Lord Felix was very kind and universally beloved.

Still, more information was always better. “What kinds of punishments does Lord Felix give?”

As soon as the words were out he squeezed his eyes shut, chastising himself. Just because Antony allowed his impertinence, it didn’t mean Lord Theodora would be as forgiving. Kenta must be so shocked at his behavior…

“S-Sorry, my lord, I didn’t-”

“Sorry,” Lord Theodora said at the same time, her voice tangling with his. Hanyu swallowed his own words at once.

The god went on, her voice tight and nervous. “I didn’t mean to go silent. I was just surprised. And honestly, I don’t know. I don’t think Felix is much in the habit of doling out punishments.”

“Oh.”

Hanyu didn’t know whether that was good news or not, but there wasn’t much he could do about it either way. He opened one eye experimentally. Kenta and Lord Theodora didn’t look angry or scandalized. If anything, they were watching him with concern. Gyuri was glowering down at her knees where they were drawn against her chest, and Chujiro-

“Who’s getting punished?” the old man asked.

Hanyu wasn’t sure whether the quiver in his voice was age or fear.

Lord Theodora launched herself across the little room to kneel at his bedside and clasp his hand.

“No one, dear,” she soothed. “Everything’s all right.”

Chujiro’s voice climbed in pitch and volume. “Where’s Ayumu? It wasn’t us! We wouldn’t-”

“Jiro, you know I would never punish you or Ayumu. And I wouldn’t let anyone else do it, either. You’re safe.” How did Lord Theodora keep her voice like that? Calm and friendly and unruffled, as if the old man weren’t thrashing and panicking?

“Ayumu!” Chujiro called, and a foul smell reached Hanyu’s nose. What had-?

“Kenta?” Lord Theodora jerked her head in Hanyu’s direction, keeping all her own attention on Chujiro. “Would you and Hanyu kindly fetch Ayumu? You too, Gyuri.”

The woman spat something at Lord Theodora in Surgish, but she followed Kenta and Hanyu out of the room.

Instead of going in search of Ayumu, Kenta led them to his own room. Hanyu was surprised that none of Lord Theodora’s other offerings had poked their heads out to see the commotion, though they could still hear Chujiro’s cries as Kenta’s curtain swished shut behind them.

Kenta caught Hanyu’s inquisitive look and explained. “Ayumu was his husband. He’s been gone for several years now.”

Hanyu had suspected it was something like that, but he still felt a pang gripping his chest and tears starting in his eyes. It was so sad to think of Chujiro endlessly waiting for a lover who was never coming back. Or- not a lover, but-

“Husband?” Hanyu repeated dumbly.

Kenta nodded, wide-eyed. Gyuri gave an exasperated huff and flopped down on Kenta’s bed, pointedly ignoring their conversation.

“But… the oath?”

The offerings-in-training had only had to give it once a year, but Hanyu still remembered the promises. In between oaths of obedience and devotion, they forswore all familial relationships, past (not too difficult, since they were all purchased by or gifted to the temple as infants) and future. No spouses, no children, no ties to distract from their service.

“Lord Theodora said that was stupid and married them herself,” Kenta said in a half-whisper. “He told me all about it, back when he remembered more. He said it was one of his happiest days. Some of the gods even came to the wedding and brought them gifts and blessings.”

Another piercing cry shattered Hanyu’s thoughts of Chujiro as a blushing, glowing groom. He dropped his eyes guiltily.

“I’m sorry,” he told Kenta’s floor. “I didn’t mean to upset him.”

His friend sat cross-legged on the floor and sighed. “It’s not your fault. No one can guess what’ll set him off.”

When Hanyu sank down beside him, Kenta darted a curious glance in his direction. Hanyu guessed what was coming and braced himself.

“Why did you want to know about Lord Felix’s punishments?” Kenta asked, sure enough.

“I was so stupid today,” Hanyu whispered, and then he was crying as if he hadn’t sobbed himself out in Antony’s arms just a few hours before.

By the time he’d spilled the whole story, Chujiro’s cries had faded into silence and Gyuri was asleep on Kenta’s bed. Kenta, bless him, hadn’t said a word against Hanyu during the entire retelling. He just listened and gasped at the right places, his round face going pale and his hands lifting to his mouth. When Hanyu recounted Lord Thaddeus’ rescue, Kenta slumped in relief.

“That must have been awful!” he cried.

Hanyu waved his hands in frustration. “I don’t know why it was so bad! I wish I could explain it better.”

“A strange god coming up to you when you’re alone is plenty!” Kenta said firmly, and Hanyu could have melted into the floor with gratitude.

They were interrupted by Lord Theodora’s voice at the ‘door.’ Strange as it might have been to say of an ageless god, she sounded terribly old and tired.

“Kenta? I’m sorry to bother you, but would you please sit with him while I take care of these sheets? He’s sleeping.”

“Of course!” Kenta scrambled up and out the curtain, Hanyu staying on his friend’s heels.

Lord Theodora was standing with her arms full of sheets and blankets. She had them balled so that no stains were visible, but the stench of excrement was thick in the air.

“Sorry,” she said to Hanyu, tipping her chin at her burden. “I’ll get these right out. But quickly- has Antony been punishing you harshly?”

“No, he hasn’t!” Hanyu was so surprised by the question and her current occupation that he forgot to add an honorific. “Barely at all. He’s been so kind.”

And I still disobeyed him.

Lord Theodora nodded. “If he’s rough with you, please tell me. I’ll help you.”

With that earth-shattering statement, the god was off down the hallway with her stinking load.

Hanyu should have been struck dumb by his surprise, but instead he found himself babbling as he followed Kenta back to Chujiro’s room.

“Do you think she means it? Why would she just take my word for it? And even if she did, why would she interfere with my master? What does-”

Kenta hushed him as they returned to the old man’s bedside. Chujiro was indeed sleeping, his mouth open in a way that made his whole face look impossibly slack and soft, and taking in loud breaths that clicked and whistled strangely.

Hanyu forced his mouth shut. Clearly, Chujiro needed his sleep. But his mind was still whirling with questions, one more prominent than the others:

What is Lord Felix telling Antony to do to me?

Chapter Text

ANTONY’S POV

Antony hadn’t bothered much with prayers even when he was back home, before the curse. These days, he figured any real deities that might exist were probably less than impressed with his sacrilegious charade and general tendency towards committing massacres, so he bothered with prayers even more rarely.

Still, today he prayed that he would not encounter Marcus in the hallways.

Against all odds, he appeared to have enough credit left with fate to cover this request. He arrived at Felix’s door without having seen so much as a hair of his lover.

He might not know how to handle Hanyu’s rule-breaking, but he knew how to handle Marcus’ behavior even less. Why would Marcus bother Hanyu? Yes, he was rough with his offerings, but they were his. Yes, he was rough with Antony, but Antony did plenty to cause that. Neither of those things was true of Hanyu.

That was why he hadn’t been able to ask Theo’s advice, as he’d originally planned. If he let slip what had happened with Marcus, he suspected she would turn the conversation around and make it into an excuse to attack Antony and Marcus some more. No, he needed a more objective opinion. Who better to approach than his resident human expert?

Looking surprised to see him, Felix invited him inside nevertheless. Antony couldn’t help glancing around to make sure his former offering wasn’t anywhere to be seen, but Felix’s two big chairs were empty.

“Eiji is asleep,” Felix said, apparently catching the look. “Please try to keep your voice down.”

Antony nodded. “Of course!”

Not that he would ever be as good at it as this man. He remembered how Felix’s voice used to fill a room or carry over a whole field of drilling soldiers. These days, he kept his tone barely above a murmur.

“I wanted to ask you about something-” Antony hesitated, flopped down into one of the chairs, “-sensitive. I’d prefer if you didn’t mention it to anyone.”

It was an order, though he hadn’t phrased it as one, and a lifelong soldier would know that.

Felix inclined his head. “Of course.”

“Good.” Antony went to exhale, then realized he didn’t have any air in his lungs at present. Fucking nuisance.  

Felix just watched him politely, one eyebrow slightly raised, looking like he would be perfectly content to sit there in silence for a week. No wonder he’d succeeded in extracting Daido’s testimony so quickly. Had he perfected the tactic back home, staring down members of the king’s guard until they spilled all their secrets?

“I’m having a problem with Hanyu,” Antony said after the moment stretched into awkwardness. “He wandered off on his own without telling me, which is one of the few things I have an explicit rule against. It’s been a long time since I had to deal with deliberate disobedience and I’m at a loss.”

Felix raised the eyebrow a little higher. “But surely you remember what you did to deal with it before, even if it happened some time ago?”

“Well, yes,” Antony admitted, fighting down the desire to squirm. “But I always used light physical punishments, and that tends to… arouse him. I’m not trying to embarrass the poor thing.”

“I see.”

“I’m not going to ban him from exercise or stop his meals or take his clothes,” Antony continued, and then the words were torrenting out of him like he’d turned into Hanyu for a moment. “Not that he’d even find the loss of his clothes all that trying, ridiculous nudist that he is. I don’t want to hurt him, and that’s probably why all this happened. I’ve been ridiculously soft with him. But whenever he gets frightened, I don’t want to do anything to prove him right. I just want him to be happy. I want to take care of him. But this wasn’t safe, and I need him to understand that he can’t do it again, and… I don’t know what to do. I want-”

“Have you considered refusing to speak to him for six years?”

Felix’s voice was so low and soft that Antony almost missed the words. He wasn’t even sure he’d heard correctly.

“What was that?” he asked.

Felix huffed and ran a hand through his hair. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to be sarcastic. I just… It’s good that you care about Hanyu. It is. But… why now?”

“What do you mean?” 

Antony blinked at him, bewildered. Hanyu hadn’t even been around for two months. When should he have started caring about him?

When Felix replied, his voice was still quiet, but dangerously low and rough- almost a growl. “You had Eiji for the better part of a decade. He’s wonderful. He’s clever and driven and sweet and he cared- cares- about you so fucking much.”

The profanity startled Antony almost as much as the sudden accusation. Felix didn’t often swear.

“So why not him?” Felix demanded. “Where was all this softness and concern for the last six years? He deserved it just as much as Hanyu. So did Hayato and Zenji, and all of them. Gods, Antony, I don’t want to rip into you for finally dusting off your conscience, but do you have the first idea how much damage you’ve done?”

“What are you talking about?” Antony snapped. “I didn’t do anything to them!”

“You don’t think being treated like a piece of furniture for most of a decade sounds like a problem?”

“Not much of one, no!” Where had this aggression come from? This would teach Antony to ask advice. “I never laid a hand on them, outside of feeding! They were fine!”

Felix’s face darkened. “Fine? Zenji is one of the toughest people on this ship and he still goes silent if he hears your name. Hayato is so kind I find myself wondering if he might be some sort of god in disguise himself, and he breaks down every few months, like clockwork. And Eiji… he’s amazing and you’ve got him convinced he’s totally worthless. I’ll happily spend the rest of his life trying to convince him otherwise, but I still don’t know if that will be enough time. You did all that.”

“I didn’t do anything to them!” Antony knew he was repeating himself, but that was the point that Felix was missing. “I left them to their own devices, and they left me to mine.”

Felix’s eyes were wide. “Do you even hear yourself? You say that like you were on any kind of equal footing. You have to know how ridiculous that is! They had no way to change the situation.”

“If they didn’t like it, they should have said something!”

“They were trained their whole lives not to deny us anything,” Felix said. “Of course they weren’t going to complain, no matter what you did.”

“I didn’t do any- ” 

“Bullshit! They worshipped you and you treated them like they were nothing!”

“I never asked to be worshipped! I just wanted to be left alone! Why has that always been too much to ask?”

The words tore out with so much rage that Antony felt as if he were breathing fire along with them. He realized that he was standing now, snarling right into Felix’s face. His hands ached to reach out, to grab, to start the fight that the other vampire so clearly wanted to have.

Felix would beat him easily. He knew that in a dim, distant way. But everything in him was screaming to rip and punch and take the beating that was sure to follow. The movement, the speed, the force, even the inevitable pain sounded fucking blissful.

Antony was strangely, wildly disappointed when the other man lowered his gaze.

“I know you never wanted this life,” Felix said, his voice soft. “Neither did I. Claudia came up with the best plan she could manage under the circumstances, and we all went along with it because we were hungry and scared and we needed to stay alive. But that’s no excuse, Antony. Our offerings didn’t ask for things to be this way, either. We got a choice, but they never did. Since we forced it on them, I’d say the very least we owe them is to make it as bearable for them as possible.”

“How is a peaceful life with no demands unbearable?” When I tried for that, I got us all cursed.

“Don’t be so egocentric.” The words might have been sharp, but Felix’s gaze had gone disconcertingly gentle. “You don’t have to agree that it would be a bad situation for you, but you do have to believe me that it was a bad situation for them. You don’t get to decide how other people are allowed to feel about how you treat them.”

Where had all of this come from? All he had wanted was some advice about Hanyu!

Felix went on. “I understand that you didn’t realize how bad their time with you was. I didn’t either, until recently. But it’s been so painful to watch someone I love suffering because of someone else I love. You are capable of making people feel so seen and cared for. Eiji deserved that from you, and you failed him, and you owe him an apology.”

Antony set his jaw. “I didn’t come here to be chastised.”

Finally, blessedly, he had gone cold and calm. Usually it happened as soon as he was uncomfortable, but Felix’s attack had been so unexpected that it had taken him a long time. He settled his weight back on his heels- still standing, but no longer leaning into Felix’s face.

Felix sighed. “I know. I’m sorry. I just… Not that he doesn’t deserve this care, because he does, but… what’s so different about Hanyu?”

Everything. Every word, every movement, every look, every least little gleam in his eyes.

Antony collected himself. “I’m no longer interested in discussing my attendant with you. See to your own.”

“I didn’t mean to make you feel cornered,” Felix said. “I’m sorry. This wasn’t the right time to talk to you about this. I’ve only recently come to understand the extent of it, which makes me angry with myself. I should have seen it years ago and said something then.”

Everyone had so many things they wished they’d picked a fight with him about years ago. Was his foolish softness with Hanyu spreading all through him? Could everybody sense it?

Antony grunted something not quite articulate and started for Felix’s door. This was his ship and he didn’t have to stand around and let himself be ordered to apologize.

“If I may still offer my advice?” Felix plunged ahead without waiting for permission. “I’m sure he knows you’re upset, and I’m just as sure that that terrifies him. He’s probably falling apart.”

Antony paused with his hand on the door. Was that true? Hadn’t he just held the boy for at least an hour? He’d thought that if he did that, touch-hungry Hanyu would understand that he wasn’t angry.

Felix went on. “After all, they’re raised from babies to see pleasing us as the focus of their lives and he knows he displeased you. I… I can’t imagine how frightened and vulnerable he must be feeling right now. Just talk to him. Listen to each other. I can’t tell you the right thing to do, but your relationship can. Tend it in whatever way works for the two of you.”

Sometimes, Felix sounded like he’d been smoking one of the soothing herbs they used to have back home.

“All right.” Antony hoped his tone sounded less waspish and petulant to Felix than it did to his own ears. “We’ll talk later. You’ve given me plenty to think about.”

Too much, in fact. As he stalked down the hall, Antony tried to settle his mind and focus. A few centuries of silent, lovely, nameless men would be overwhelming right now. Right now, he just needed to be in his own rooms with his own Hanyu.

When he returned to Theodora’s rooms, he found her, Hanyu, and the worm boy cuddled up quietly together against Chujiro’s wall. Hanyu looked up when he entered, and Antony saw at once that Felix had been right (damn him). The poor boy was a wreck. Hanyu’s eyes were rimmed in red again, his face was just a shade paler than usual, and he met Antony’s gaze with a guilty flush instead of his usual blinding grin.

A flash of movement drew Antony’s eye away from his woeful offering, and he saw Theo on the other side of Kenta putting a finger to her lips and tilting her head towards the bed. Chujiro was sleeping.

Sleeping. Eiji. Dammit, there was no way the man had slept through all that. How much had he heard? What did he think about all they had said? 

What if Felix was right about Eiji’s pain, too, and the man had been forced to sit there listening to Antony defend himself when he had no right? That thought produced the sick twist of guilt that surprise and anger had kept away under Felix’s baleful eye.

Hanyu and Theo had the right idea about the floor. Antony wanted to throw himself down on it and maybe cry, or maybe crawl into their laps, or maybe just sink right through the boards.

But Hanyu had done his abovedeck exercises all afternoon and then panicked all evening, and if Antony could do nothing else right at least he could make sure that his charge slept. He extended a hand to help the boy stand and tried to squeeze up a smile.

“Thank you,” he whispered to Theodora as he drew Hanyu to his feet. “We’ll see you later.”

He stretched to put a gentle hand on his attendant’s shoulder as they moved through the hallway. That had to provide a little reassurance, didn’t it?

Back in their own rooms, Antony took a deep breath. He had one job left: making Hanyu feel better. After that, he could relax.

The boy hovered nervously as Antony pulled off his boots and settled on the sofa. Once Antony was sitting, Hanyu rushed over and knelt at his feet. Antony suspected that his offering intended to bow, so he gripped his shoulder again and turned him around so that his back was to Antony and he was leaning against his knees instead of dropping to the floor. The boy’s body was shockingly stiff.

“Poor Hanyu,” he said, before he could talk himself out of showing so much solicitousness when he was already about to be soft as a jelly. “You’ve had a terrible day.”

It might have been laughably obvious, but it was apparently the right thing to say. The boy sagged against him, and Antony didn’t fight the urge to begin stroking Hanyu’s hair.

“One of the worst ever,” Hanyu agreed vehemently. “I think I’m out of tears. I don’t remember the last time that happened to me.”

“Well then, there’s your punishment.” Antony tried to ignore the boy’s flinch. “I’m going to make you drink a whole bucket of water.”

Hanyu was silent for a long moment. When he finally spoke, his voice was low and careful.

“Please, my lord, what’s my real punishment going to be? I don’t mean to press, but I can’t bear not knowing.”

“I just told you,” Antony snapped. “You’re going to drink so much you’ll spend half the night in the washroom.”

“Antony. That can’t be all!” The damn brat actually sounded distraught.

“It can if I say it can.” Antony hoped the gentleness of his hand in Hanyu’s curls would soften the effect of his growl. Why was he growling?

“I disobeyed you. Not as a trick, for real!”

“And then Marcus scared you halfway out of your fool skin. I’d say that made my point about why you shouldn’t wander alone. You’re not going to do it again, are you?”

“No,” Hanyu said fervently.

Antony sighed. “Then what’s the point of punishing you? Your day’s been rough enough and your lesson is learned.”

“But I disobeyed you!” Hanyu protested. “That’s the worst thing I could do!”

“Don’t be ridiculous, boy. I much prefer disobedience to… oh, say, breaking my ribs like Lina did. You don’t plan on breaking my ribs, do you?”

“No!” Hanyu sounded half shocked, half giggly.

“Well then. Not the worst thing you could do.”

“But-”

“Hanyu,” Antony said before he could talk himself out of it, “you had enough bad things happen to you today. I don’t want you to see me and know that there’s another bad thing coming. I want you to see me and know that the bad things are over. You’ve had enough today, all right? If you won’t tap out, then I’m going to tap out for you.”

Hanyu twisted on his knees to clutch Antony around the waist and bury his face in his stomach.

The boy’s voice was muffled by Antony’s shirt. “Thank you. I don’t deserve you, Antony. I don’t know why you’re so wonderful. Thank you.”

Half the boy’s torso was sprawled awkwardly over the cushion and Antony’s lap, one of his arms was wedged uncomfortably between Antony’s spine and the sofa’s backrest, his tears were soaking Antony’s shirt- apparently, Hanyu wasn’t quite out- and it was still perfect.

Antony relaxed into the embrace. The chaos of his mind quieted.

He would apologize to Eiji, if he could get Felix’s promise that word wouldn’t spread beyond the three of them. Antony still didn’t see what was so awful about being left alone but if three of his offerings in a row hadn’t liked it, that proved that their view of it was different. Now that he didn’t feel cornered, he could accept that if Felix, the humans’ confidante, said he should have done things differently, he was probably right.

But it was never going to be any offering but Hanyu that got Antony to snap and accept hugs and disregard all the protocols they’d developed over a thousand years.

After a long moment, Antony gently untangled himself from the clasping arms. At Hanyu’s whine of protest, he scowled.

“I wasn’t joking about the water. You are getting punished, boy. Wait right there.”

When Antony returned, he had gathered a huge, brimming pitcher, a cup, and a book. He planted the first two items down in front of Hanyu and settled back into his spot with the third.

“If I’m not mistaken,” Antony said, flipping through the pages, “I never got around to showing you what a chameleon was.”

Chapter Text

HANYU’S POV

Hanyu woke to feel the mattress shifting as Antony got out of bed.

He hadn’t expected to be allowed back in his master’s bed last night, but as soon as Antony had slid under the blankets he’d shot Hanyu an impatient glare.

“Well? Do you plan to keep me waiting for one hour or two?” the god had snapped.

Antony hadn’t even squirmed when Hanyu wrapped his arms around him an instant later. Hanyu had drifted off still wondering what he’d done to deserve this particular master.

He wondered it anew as he woke to Antony slipping out of the bed. The priests had made it seem as if he would be lucky to wake up at all if he ever dared to directly disobey a god, never mind waking up in that same god’s bed (hogging the bed, in fact), having been held and spoiled and comforted following his crime.

He would be extra good today, he vowed. Though, when he thought of his usual standard of behavior, he reflected that he should perhaps simply aim for ‘good.’ That alone might be enough to kill even his immortal god with shock.

“Good morning,” he said, hoisting himself up on his elbows.

He’d been expecting Antony to jump. Perhaps he wanted a bit of revenge for the startling way the god always woke up? So much for being good. However, Antony didn’t even turn away from the wardrobe, where he was tucking his shirt into his trousers.

“Good morning, Hanyu,” his master replied, totally unsurprised. “I would ask whether you slept well, but the snores assured me that you did.”

Hanyu’s belly squeezed with remorse. “Did I keep you awake?”

“Not all that much.” Antony waved a dismissive hand, though he still hadn’t turned. “It’s not as if I needed a great deal of sleep. I’m just glad that you weren’t kept awake by your ordeal yesterday.”

“Oh, gods, no.” Hanyu had been asleep almost as soon as he’d pulled Antony against his chest.

He cringed once he realized what he’d said. It still felt rude to swear by Antony when the god was standing right there, clasping his belt around his narrow hips. At least Antony didn’t seem bothered. He turned and scowled at Hanyu, but it was his reflexive scowl, not a sign of actual anger. Hanyu was learning the difference.

“We’re going back to Theo’s rooms today to see whether she’s willing to help with feeding,” the god informed him. “Your breakfast will be here any minute, so eat quickly, all right?”

“All right.” Hanyu stretched luxuriously and padded off to the washroom.

He dressed quickly to ensure that he would be ready to answer the door. The knock came just as he was tying back his hair.

“I’ve got it!” he hollered.

He let the ribbon fall and dashed for the door so quickly that Antony had to dive, lightning-quick, to get out of his path. The god was still swearing creatively at his back when Hanyu pulled open the door and saw- as he had hoped and dreaded- Eiji.

The beautiful man looked a little less beautiful today. There was a hint of red around his lovely dark eyes, and his gorgeous face was drawn and pale. He looked as if he hadn’t slept well.

“Good morning, Hanyu,” he said, perfectly polite and icy cold as he extended the tray.

“I’m so glad to see you!” Hanyu burst out, and Eiji’s tired eyes widened a little. “I went looking for you yesterday to apologize. I was awful and I’m so, so sorry. I didn’t mean-”

“Hanyu, stop that,” said Lord Antony at his back.

Hanyu hadn’t heard the god coming to stand behind him, but there he was. Eiji paled further and started to kneel, but Antony stopped him with a gesture, leaving Hanyu to gape back and forth between the two of them.

“I imagine you heard some of what your master and I discussed yesterday,” Antony said.

Eiji’s knuckles had gone white where he gripped the tray, and he looked… Miserable? Mutinous? Hanyu didn’t know the other man’s face well enough to judge. Either way, he dipped his chin in affirmation.

“Forgive me, my lord,” he said. “It was not my intention to eavesdrop.”

“You could hardly help it,” Antony replied.

Hanyu knew his god better than he knew Eiji, so he could more easily detect Antony’s discomfort with the conversation. His chin was raised, his feet planted, and his chest puffed out- the stance he always took when he was ill at ease. Even his voice was so level that Hanyu was sure he was working hard not to snap and growl.

“I know you’re busy right now,” Antony said, “but come by when you have some time, will you? Felix was right, though I was in too much of a temper to see it. I’m the one who owes you an apology, not Hanyu. Take your food, boy.”

It took Hanyu a long moment to realize that this last sentence was directed at him. He obeyed, thoroughly confused. Eiji relinquished the tray with a dazed look. He opened his mouth to speak, then closed it again. After a few agonizing moments of this, Antony seemed to take pity on the man and began to shut the door.

“I’m glad you’re with Felix now. We’ll see you later, all right?”

Then the door was closed and the god turned to look at Hanyu. Hanyu, for his part, realized that his jaw was sagging open and closed it.

“What?” Antony demanded waspishly. “Eat your food before it gets cold, will you?”

“All right.” Hanyu sat down, but he didn’t have any real intention of eating until his curiosity was satiated. “What did you mean about apologizing to him?”

Antony grunted. “What does it sound like I meant? How many meanings does ‘apologize’ have?”

“But apologize for what?” Hanyu pressed. “Why would you apologize to an attendant?”

“Why are you surprised? All I’ve done this week is apologize to you,” the god grumbled.

“But that’s because I’m hysterical,” Hanyu pointed out. “I melt down and cry, and then you feel guilty. Eiji isn’t crying.”

Antony heaved a cavernous sigh. “I don’t… well, all right, you’re not good at hiding when I’ve hurt your feelings or scared you, but that’s good. Because Eiji is apparently excellent at hiding those things, so I had no idea I was doing anything wrong until Felix told me. That makes for an awfully late apology.”

Interesting. This was yet another thing Hanyu had been scolded and punished for back at the temple that his master apparently liked about him. Why didn’t he just tell the priests to train the offerings differently if they weren’t doing it the way he wanted?

As for Eiji, Hanyu couldn’t imagine that his gentle, forgiving god would have done anything violent or willfully cruel to him, so that left…

“Are you apologizing for ignoring him?” Hanyu asked.

Antony shot him a glare. “How did you know about that?”

“He told me. He wanted to make sure I didn’t have too many expectations about intimate service and things, so he told me about how you never talked to him. I think he meant to be kind.”

“I’m sure he did.” Antony grumbled something Hanyu couldn’t quite hear, then, “Would it have been so bad if I hadn’t paid much attention to you?”

Hanyu couldn’t hold back a wince. “It would have been awful!”

“Really?”

“Oh yes!” Hanyu nodded vigorously.

“But you see all your friends when you exercise. I wouldn’t be your only chance to socialize.”

“Sure, but that’s not every day,” Hanyu argued. “And even when it is, it’s only for a few hours. I spend most of my time here with you. All that time just sitting around, wondering what you were thinking and if you were angry with me and if I would get in trouble if I accidentally made a sound, trying to figure out if it would be better to be out where you could see me or if the sight of me was annoying you and I should hide in the closet… I would be a wreck!”

Antony groaned. “But why spend all that time fretting about me? Why not read or draw or work out mathematical equations or do absolutely anything else?”

“Not everyone’s hobbies are quiet,” Hanyu said. “Anyhow, if you weren’t talking to me, how would I know that I was allowed? We’re supposed to have our attention on our masters whenever we’re in their presence. I would just sit there and worry and wonder what I did wrong.”

“Oh.” There was a new note in the god’s voice, quiet and stricken. “For six years. That does sound awful, doesn’t it?”

“It really does.” Hanyu thought he would have gone mad.

Antony started pacing. “Dammit. I’ve been… for years now, centuries, even… dammit!”

He paced a while longer in silence, only breaking from his thoughts to toss a grouchy “Eat your damn food, will you?” in Hanyu’s direction. His curiosity sated, Hanyu was happy to obey. It was hardboiled eggs and shredded, perfectly seasoned potatoes today. He hadn’t known what a potato was the first time one had appeared on his plate, but they were quickly becoming one of his favorites.

The potatoes were good for distracting him from his thoughts. On the one hand, he was glad that Antony planned to apologize to Eiji, even though that probably made him a terrible offering. It proved what Antony’s treatment of Asao had already led him to believe: Antony didn’t want any of the humans to be hurt or mistreated. Hanyu wasn’t a fluke, he was just the only human Antony had met in a long time who was ill-mannered enough to make a fuss when he was frightened or his feelings were wounded.

On the other hand, Hanyu was gratified to be the exception. Beautiful Eiji hadn’t won Antony’s attention or a (however chaste) place in his bed, and neither had any number of others. It had been him, Hanyu, the ill-mannered overexcited one who was always in trouble and was placed in the back row. Everyone had been wrong about him. He was special and important and worthy after all, and when Antony told the temple of his decision, they would all know it. The High Priest would be sorry he’d ever even considered selling him.

And didn’t that just make Hanyu awful? What kind of person would take even the least satisfaction from something that had caused so much suffering to his predecessors? He remembered Asao saying that Hanyu was never jealous and felt himself flush with shame.

As soon as he finished his meal, Antony was pulling on his boots. The god must have been hungry, Hanyu realized with a fresh rush of shame. It had been three days since he’d fed from Kenta, and after Hanyu’s overreaction his master probably hadn’t dared to seek other means of sating himself again.

However, the closer they got to Lord Theodora’s rooms, the more the god’s enthusiasm for the venture seemed to flag. Before long, Hanyu could think of no word for his demeanor except ‘fussing.’

“Do you feel well enough for this?” Antony asked as he knocked on the door. “It’s all right if you don’t. We can do this another day.”

“I’m fine,” Hanyu insisted for the fourth or fifth time. He was losing count.

Antony barreled ahead as if he hadn’t heard. “Because yesterday was terribly stressful for you. Wouldn’t you rather just read? You could just read. We never learned whether the duke told the princess that they wanted their sham engagement to be real.”

“Antony-” Hanyu’s exasperated (and probably highly improper) reply was mercifully cut short when the door opened.

“My lord Antony!” It was the older, haughty one… Hanyu didn’t remember his name.

“Hello.” Antony sounded uncomfortable, the way he always did when he talked to humans that weren’t Hanyu. “Joji, isn’t it?”

“Y-Yes indeed!” The old man practically glowed at the recognition. “My lord does me too much honor. Forgive me for not greeting you properly, but my master Lord Theodora has forbidden me from kneeling.”

“It’s fine,” Antony said.

At the same moment, Lord Theodora appeared behind Joji and said, “Your knees can’t handle it anymore, which you would admit if you weren’t so stubborn.”

Had she been in the common room, or just darted from Chujiro’s bedside with that otherworldly speed? Either way, she looked tidy but incredibly tired. The smile she offered first to Antony, then to Hanyu was no less warm than usual, despite the dark circles under her eyes.

“My knees pain me far less than my shame at offering an insolent greeting to the lord of the gods,” Joji grumbled, but he didn’t sound as if he had much hope of swaying his master.

Indeed, she was implacable. “Then we’ll have Julia come by with a splint for your shame. It’ll be much smaller than splints for your knees. Come in, you two.”

Hanyu and his god obeyed the summons. Once inside, Hanyu saw that the big table was half full. Seven men sat before their breakfasts, ranging in age from Joji, whose meal sat before what must have been his recently vacated chair, to Kenta, who offered a cheery little wave.  

Lord Theodora led them back to Chujiro’s room, where the old man snored softly and Bunta was sitting in the big soft chair. When he looked up and saw them, his face was accusing.

“Why aren’t you in bed, Theo- I mean, my lord?” he demanded in a whisper as he got up from the chair.

“Some guests arrived,” Lord Theodora said dismissively. “Anyhow, I wasn’t asleep yet. Go on, sit back down. Antony won’t insist on proprieties, will you, Antony.”

It sounded less like a question than an order, and Antony shook his head obediently. Bunta, however, did not sit.

“You need to sleep sooner or later,” he told Lord Theodora. “Even if your body doesn’t need it, your mind needs a break from all this.”

“I’ll sleep when I’m dead,” Lord Theodora replied with a bitter, humorless laugh that Hanyu never would have expected to hear from the shy god.

Antony frowned. “Theo…”

“Oh, don’t you start.” She fluttered her hands as if she were batting away a few insects. “Did you two come for reading?”

“No… well, not just that.” Hanyu saw his master dart a look at Bunta. “Perhaps the three of us could speak privately?”

“Go on, Bunta,” Lord Theodora sighed. “Why don’t you go have breakfast with Zenji?”

Bunta snorted. “He won’t be eating for another hour. It’s against his morals to eat before he’s fussed so much his voice is gone.”

“Zenji?” Antony had gone rigid and miserable beside him, and Hanyu longed to reach out and grab his hand. “Would this be the same Zenji who… um… lived with me?”

Bunta’s gaze was cold as he inclined his head. “The same. He’ll be honored to hear that my lord remembers his name. Surprised and honored.”

“I see.” Antony’s shoulders slumped, and as Bunta stalked away Hanyu could almost see his god tacking another name onto his ‘apologies owed’ list.

Lord Marcus must have been lying about Antony’s mother and previous lovers. No god who would submit to being spoken to in such a way with only a guilty expression could have done all that.

Still, Hanyu felt the words like a splinter in his mind.

Chapter Text

ANTONY’S POV

As Bunta stalked away, Antony felt his shoulders stiffen. He had barely been up for an hour, and already he was feeling weary and persecuted.

That was a ridiculous way to feel when the only problems he had had were encountering people who reminded him of his own bad behavior. If he didn’t want to feel guilty and harried, he should have been more considerate. He had no right to feel as downtrodden as he did.

What good was it living for a thousand years if you never learned how to reason yourself out of irrational emotions?

“Sorry,” Theodora offered after Bunta was gone, though she didn’t sound terribly sincere. “Zenji is his lover, and he’s been a bit rattled by having your last attendant working in the kitchens with him.”

A sigh pushed out of Antony’s lungs. “And then I came and interrupted a nap that I’m sure he begged and threatened you to take.”

“I don’t know how long I would have stayed there anyway,” Theodora said, collapsing into the chair and looking down at Chujiro where he slept. “I don’t like to leave him.”

That might be a problem. “Theo, there’s something I need to ask you.”

She cast him a wary look, but raised an eyebrow in as much of an invitation to speak as he was likely to get. Antony took a deep breath and relaxed his face, banishing the scowl that was trying to creep over him. He crossed his arms tightly over his chest.

“I haven’t had any luck trying to feed normally from Hanyu.” His voice was tight and too level, he knew that, but it was the only way to keep from snarling the words. “I think I need to know that someone is there to stop me if I try to take too much from him. Would you be willing to do that?”

Theo looked from Antony to Hanyu, who was blushing and shuffling his feet. Hadn’t the boy had years of deportment lessons?

Theodora’s eyebrows crept slowly up her face.

“Antony,” she said at last, “please promise me this isn’t a sex thing.”

Antony felt his jaw sag open. Hanyu squawked, then slapped his hands over his mouth and glanced guiltily at Chujiro, who slumbered on. The boy had turned bright red, and Antony was grateful for the dark coloring that hid his own embarrassment.

“What the hell, Theo?” he ground out.

She shrugged. “Sorry. It just seems like something very intense is happening with you two and now you want me to watch while you penetrate him and suck him and-”

“Theo!” Now Antony was the one squawking.

Chujiro shifted a little on the bed, making his sheets rustle, and Antony shut himself up. He closed his eyes and took a few breaths. It might not be a physical necessity anymore, but it was a good way to take a few moments to center himself and settle himself down.

When he opened his eyes again, Theo was still regarding him with flat mistrust and Hanyu was staring resolutely at the floor. The boy’s hands were worrying at each other and his whole body was swaying like a dancer’s as he shifted his weight from one foot to the other over and over again. His blush had not contented itself with his face, spreading down his neck and over his ears.

“Theo,” Antony said as calmly as he could manage, “it’s just eating. It’s not sexual when you feed from any of your men, is it?”

She shook her head. “No, but it’s still very intimate. It’s not like we’re popping some bread in our mouths, after all. There’s a lot of close touching and I’ve always found it very personal.”

“That doesn’t make it ‘a sex thing’ just because I like men.”

“All right, sorry. I just get a much more intense feeling from you two.”

“I’m sorry about your feelings, but I need to eat,” Antony snapped. “I’m not interested in starving to death because you’re afraid I’ve developed some kind of… exhibitionist food kink that you don’t want to be a part of.”

“But… when you came to us the other day and drank from Kenta, you got so flustered when I tried to ask you about it! I thought it must be some kind of fetish or-”

“Gods, no!” Antony yelped. “I just… I don’t want to hurt him, all right? Is that so fucking strange? When I try to drink I get scared that I’ll hurt him, and I need you there to make sure I don’t!”

Theo’s eyes went wide, then soft. Antony hated watching her understand, hated the moment her suspicion turned to pity. He hated how naked he was before her. But then, that was why she was the one he had thought to approach. It was impossible to be more visible and vulnerable to her than he already was.

His thoughts were interrupted by a snicker from Hanyu.

“Sorry, my lords,” the boy said when they both turned to look at him. “It was just funny hearing you say ‘Gods!’ Swearing by yourself. I guess I don’t have to feel bad about doing it anymore.”

Hanyu grinned then, and Antony felt everything in him relax. His tangled-up feelings about approaching Theo for help, his defensiveness, his fear… all of his knots loosened under that sweet, unabashed smile. He felt his shoulders slump and let his arms slip down to his sides.

“Don’t be ridiculous, boy,” he grumbled. “Why would we care how you swear?”

Hanyu beamed even brighter, then turned to look earnestly at Theodora.

“It’s my fault, my lord. I was tired and slumped over on him when he was feeding one night, and you know how kind he is, so you understand why that upset him. He’s been worried about hurting me ever since.”

Theo smiled. “He does tend to fret.”

“Yes, but it’s sweet!” Hanyu said defensively. “He takes such good care of me.”

“That’s a nice way of saying he pesters the life out of you,” Theo replied, and Antony looked from one to the other of them in betrayal.

“I’m standing right here!” he protested.

They both laughed. Antony stared at them, aghast. There was something very intimidating about the idea of his best friend and his… Hanyu united, talking about him, teasing him.

At the same time, it was nice to see them smiling and laughing together. Antony relaxed a little and shook off the tension that had filled him under Theo's sympathetic gaze.

There was even something sweet and safe about his apprehension. These two might know too much about his soft places, but that was as close to all right as such vulnerability could ever be. They wouldn’t use that knowledge to hurt him.

“All right, yes, you’re both very funny.” He rolled his eyes theatrically. “So, do I get to eat or are you going to point and laugh while I shrivel to nothing in front of you?”

“All right.” Theo nodded. “If that’s what you need me for, I’ll watch. First hint that you’re taking too much, I’ll rip your arm off. Good enough?”

Antony flinched. “Maybe we could start a little milder than that?”

“Suit yourself.” Theo levered out of her chair and gestured to Hanyu. “You’d better sit down.”

Hanyu obeyed, but Antony cleared his throat.

“Ah. I thought perhaps… my rooms would be a bit more private?”

“I’m not leaving. Sorry.” Theodora didn’t sound terribly sorry. “If you want me present, it’ll have to happen here.”

“What if he wakes up?” Antony hissed, gesturing to Chujiro’s sleeping form. 

He regretted his question as soon as Theo’s eyes started filling with tears. “He hasn’t woken at all today, except when I made him take some water and broth. I doubt that you would rouse him.”

“Still!” Hanyu hadn’t said much up to this point- he still seemed shy of Theodora- but his voice was strong with concern. “Would it frighten him to see the feeding, like when I asked about punishment?”

“I doubt it,” Theo said. “He had plenty of experience with punishments back at that damn temple, but he’s never had an upsetting feeding. You’re sweet to worry, though, Hanyu.”

Hanyu mumbled unintelligibly and subsided into his chair. He glanced up at Antony and then down, shyer than he had been since… perhaps ever. Antony understood the hesitation. Theo’s mentions of ‘penetration’ and ‘sucking’ were still rattling around in his head, too. Dammit.

Hanyu lowered his lashes, hiding his eyes from Antony. At the same time, however, he lifted his chin to offer his throat.

“Please, my lord,” the boy said softly, “you must be so hungry.”

He was. Antony’s belly felt cavernous and echoing, and the sight of Hanyu’s submissively yielded throat had him swallowing convulsively. But his very hunger sent trepidation snaking cold and menacing through him, and he found himself taking a step back.

“Easy, Antony.” Theo’s voice wasn’t cloying and soothing, but matter-of-fact. “I’ve got you. I won’t let anything happen.”

Antony was not trustworthy.

Theodora was.

He bent over Hanyu and leaned in close, so close he could smell the breakfast spices lingering on his attendant’s quick, shallow breaths. Rosemary, he thought, though it had been so long he would be surprised if he were right.

He leaned closer, ghosted his lips over the boy’s hot flesh, pulled back.

“Theo,” he croaked, “would you please keep a hand on my shoulder or head or somewhere?”

It wasn’t enough to know intellectually that she was there. He needed to feel her readiness to save Hanyu from him.

Sure enough, once her big, callused hand was gripping the back of his neck, Antony felt himself relax. The tight knots he’d made of his shoulders loosened, and for the first time in almost two weeks he sank his fangs into his offering.

He groaned as Hanyu’s blood filled his mouth. It was just as good as he’d remembered, better, the best there had ever been. He couldn’t hold back his gratification as it slid thick and hot down his parched throat.

His noise was lost in the low, ecstatic moan that dripped from Hanyu’s mouth. The boy’s voice quivered with pleasure, vibrating against Antony’s lips as he took a second eager swallow, then another.

Antony pulled away after the third mouthful, feeling a great swell of relief. He hadn’t lost himself in the moment. Theo hadn’t even had to give him a warning squeeze. There was Hanyu, alive and hearty, leaning back against the chair with his chest heaving and his pupils blown wide.

And there was Theo, glowering at both of them with her free hand on her hip. The other hand, still resting on Antony’s neck, suddenly felt a lot more threatening than it had a moment ago.

“Hmph!” Her huff drew Hanyu’s languid gaze as well. “Noises like that, and you still expect me to believe this isn’t a sex thing?”

Hanyu’s eyes went wide and earnest. “It isn’t for him, just me.”

Antony could only manage a croak before Theodora released a burst of shocked laughter. She muffled it quickly behind her hands, probably to keep from waking Chujiro, but she kept shaking and gasping nonetheless.

Antony turned his scowl on her because he didn’t know how to look at Hanyu. Even after she calmed herself and sent them on their way, he avoided Hanyu’s gaze all the way back to their rooms.

Chapter Text

HANYU’S POV

Hanyu was in an excellent mood. He loved the faint stinging at his neck that reminded him with every turn of his head that he’d done his job and fed his master again after so much time. Even better than that was the memory of Lord Theodora’s words, running over and over in his mind. It seems like something very intense is happening with you two.

Lord Theodora was Antony’s best friend… and, come to that, Lord Marcus was his lover! Surely if they both said that Antony’s relationship with Hanyu was different from what it had been with the others, it had to be true.

Things were changing between them. Hanyu was certain of it. Their intimacy hadn’t reached a place of pleasant companionship and plateaued, it kept escalating. Hanyu slept naked in Antony’s bed with the god clutched in his arms, for goodness’ sake. Surely it was only a matter of time before Antony recognized what was going on and made Hanyu his in every way.

His mood only improved when they returned to their rooms and Antony sat to remove his boots. This time, Hanyu was quick enough to kneel at his feet and bat his hands away from the laces.

“Allow me,” he said, grinning up at the god.

Antony squinted down at him, looking confused and a little suspicious. “All right, all right, go ahead. I’m not a fly. There’s no call to swat at me.”

Hanyu undid the laces and slipped off the boots, then set them aside and took advantage of his position to lean his elbows against his god’s knees and smile at him. With Antony sitting and Hanyu on his knees, he actually got to look up at his master for a change.

“Are you feeling better now that you’ve eaten?” he asked.

“Much.” Antony said it with so much conviction that Hanyu couldn’t restrain a little wriggle of joy.

“I’m so glad Lord Theodora helped us!” 

“You know, I doubt she’d mind if you called her Theo.” The god huffed a little laugh. “Actually, she’d probably like it.”

Hanyu’s jaw sagged for a moment before he snapped it shut and shook his head vigorously. “Oh no! I couldn’t possibly!”

“Why not?” Antony demanded.

“I’d be too awestruck! Even here with you, I couldn’t bring myself to do it!”

Antony’s customary frown deepened, his lower lip sticking out just enough that Hanyu would almost have called it a pout. “You don’t have any trouble using my name.”

“That’s different.” Hanyu leaned in closer, letting his elbows slide up the god’s thighs so his chest could rest against the hard points of Antony’s knees. “I’m yours.”

Antony looked like he was waiting for something more- an explanation or elaboration, most likely. Hanyu himself hardly knew what all he meant by the statement. I’m yours, so we don’t need titles when we both know you own all of me. I’m yours, so I know you’ll look after me. I’m yours, so we’re together all day and how can I be scared of you the whole time when I get to see you pouting like this?

Antony seemed to give up on any further embellishment, breaking their eye contact to give a lazy stretch. Hanyu drank in the sinuous movement and didn’t bother trying to suppress his reaction. It still amazed him how much power was contained in those shoulders and arms, even the delicate wrists and slender fingers. Amazed him, and thrilled him.

He hoped he wouldn’t have to wait too long for Antony to claim him.

“She’s not all that impressive, you know,” the god groused. “When we were children, she used to pick her nose.”

Hanyu rolled his eyes. “All children do that.”

“I didn’t.” Antony was all stiff, offended dignity, and Hanyu felt quite sure that he was lying. “And she always swore at inappropriate times, and she still can’t dance.”

“Really?” Hanyu was delighted with all these tidbits that hadn’t made it into any of the hymns, but this last one made him a little uneasy.

He shifted on his knees and dropped his gaze. He was a tolerable dancer, when he managed to pay attention, but nothing more than that. He knew that Antony adored music… was he also a lover of dance? Hanyu would hate to disappoint him again.

“Really,” the god confirmed. “She used to tromp all over my toes. I suppose now she tromps on her harem’s toes instead, though I suspect that Gyuri woman would stab her for it.”

Hanyu relaxed a little. “Oh, you mean partnered dancing! I never learned that.”

It was Antony’s turn to ask, “Really?”

“Our dances are supposed to be performances,” Hanyu explained. “Some of them are quite erotic.”

Antony ignored his lowered voice and sultry glance. “But you didn’t learn any partnered dances?”

“The priests didn’t think you would want to watch us dance with each other.” Hanyu shrugged.

“What if we want to dance with you?”

Oh, the paths Hanyu’s mind skipped down with that simple question. He thought of the duke’s ball in the book he’d read Chujiro the other day, the elegant couples clasped in each other’s arms. It was all so romantic. Hanyu thought he might swoon if Antony actually meant…

“You want to dance with me?” he breathed.

Antony scowled. “I never said that.”

“Will you teach me?” Hanyu begged. “What if you do want to dance with me someday and I don’t know how? You wouldn’t have brought it up if you didn’t think you might want it someday.”

“I’m so lucky to have you here to tell me what I think and want.”

“Please, Antony?”

The god’s scowl deepened and Hanyu knew he had won.

“What kind of dance do you want to learn?” Antony’s voice was sulky.

“The ones they do in Lord Theodora’s books.” Hanyu squirmed backwards on his knees, then got to his feet and held his hands out to Antony.

His master groaned, but allowed himself to be drawn to his feet. “Court dances aren’t very exciting.”

“But they don’t sound hard.” Hanyu dragged Antony’s hands up to his shoulders and wrapped his arms around the god. “Don’t we just do this and spin?”

Antony’s growl was a little less convincing when he was smothering a grin. “For goodness’ sake, boy, of course not. Here.”

Hanyu allowed his master to reposition them. Antony didn’t press against his chest as he’d hoped, but kept some space between them. He drew one of Hanyu’s hands up to his ribcage, then rested his own hand delicately on Hanyu’s shoulder. Their free hands were clasped together but held away from their bodies.

Hanyu didn’t care. He was too thrilled by the feeling of Antony’s slender, chilly fingers gripped in his own and the sight of the god’s clear silver gaze fixed on him to mind a little distance.

“All right.” Antony’s voice was all business. “Put your weight on your right foot, then step forward with your left. Your other left. Leave your right foot where it is.”

Hanyu glanced down at his feet and obeyed. Antony mirrored his movement and gave his shoulder a quick, encouraging pat.

“Good,” the god said. “Now rock back onto your right foot, then bring your left foot back so we’re standing square again. Perfect. Weight on your left foot now and step back on your right. No, back. Good. Rock onto your left foot, then bring the right foot forward. See? As long as you remember that you shift your weight with every step it’s easy.”

They repeated the movements a few more times, then Antony began counting time. His voice rapped out a quick “One two three, hold four, five six seven, hold eight.”

Hanyu didn’t know how he managed to keep messing up such a simple step. He’d memorized much more intricate dances at the temple. But now there was someone else right in front of him and he kept worrying that he would step on Antony’s feet. The worrying didn’t stop him from actually doing it, unfortunately.

“Sorry,” he said with a sympathetic wince as his foot came down on Antony’s toes.

“Don’t stop to apologize,” the god instructed. “You’ll lose the rhythm. Anyhow, it’s fine. You’re not going to break me. Come on, we’ll start over. One two three…”

Hanyu couldn’t help apologizing the next time he stepped on his master, or the next. Antony brushed off each mistake without any apparent annoyance and kept showering Hanyu in little half-careless compliments- “Good.” “Perfect.” “Just like that.” – every time he managed to go a step or two without an error. He seemed to take much more naturally to teaching than Hanyu did to the dance.

“I’m sorry,” Hanyu groaned after tangling their feet for what felt like the hundredth time. “I’m so stupid at dance… well, just stupid, I guess.”

For the first time, Antony sounded angry. “Don’t be ridiculous. You’re not stupid.”

You’re not stupid.

The god snapped out those words like they didn’t mean anything, like they didn’t hit Hanyu with bruising force. All these years, he’d thought he didn’t mind being sweet, stupid Hanyu. How could he have never realized how badly he wanted to hear that he wasn’t?

Antony was still speaking, oblivious to Hanyu’s turmoil. “This is just new, and you’re already doing a good deal better than Theo. Come on, stop looking at your feet. It’s easier if you don’t watch them. Look at me instead.”

That was never a hard order to obey, especially not when Antony had just gifted him with words he’d been waiting his whole life to hear without even realizing it. Hanyu gazed down at his god, addled with adoration. Antony gazed back and resumed counting without breaking their eye contact.

Once Hanyu let himself really think about what Antony had said and how it made him feel, he knew he would want to fling himself at his master’s feet, shower his hands with kisses, hug him, or at least burst into tears. As such, he stored the thought away for later and tried to focus on the dancing.

“Good,” Antony praised, and Hanyu was astonished to find that while his head was swimming with other thoughts, his feet seemed to have gotten the hang of the dance.

A few more counts and his god was looking up at him with that cautious little smile… which for him, was practically beaming.

Antony sounded proud when he broke his count to say, “There, see? You’ve got it.”

“I do!” Hanyu cheered. “I’m doing it!”

“I told you.”

Antony kept counting and they kept dancing. Now that Hanyu wasn’t preoccupied with his own feet he could see how beautifully his master moved. Antony’s whole body swayed with the smooth control of a snake at each step, yet his posture stayed straight. How did he manage to keep his form while looking so loose? The way he swiveled his hips, oh gods, his pelvis…

Hanyu had to swallow a few times and force his gaze back up to Antony’s unimpressed face.

“I thought you said you’d studied erotic dance,” the god said. “Surely this isn’t scandalizing you?”

Scandalizing, no. Arousing, yes. None of the sinuous thrusting and writhing Hanyu had watched his cadre and their teachers perform had had anything like this effect on him. He swallowed again.

“Of course not,” he rasped.

On Hanyu’s next distracted step, he stepped down so hard on Antony’s foot that he lost his own balance and fell.

Or he would have fallen, if Antony hadn’t caught him.

The hand that held his own tightened while the arm that had rested on his shoulders slid down, faster than thought, and latched around his waist, catching his weight and holding him in a loose backwards bow. Antony’s arm was short enough that in order to get it around Hanyu’s waist, the god had had to bend over a good deal himself, leaving his face hovering just a few inches above Hanyu’s own.

Hanyu gazed up at his master and felt his heart hammering wildly in his chest, not just from the exercise or the fall. Antony’s eyes were a little wide and startled, his face framed with some escaped silver strands, his lips so thin and soft and perfect and close…

Hanyu parted his own lips without even thinking about it. The god’s gaze darted down to them, lightning-fast, and then back up. Hanyu couldn’t be quite sure, but he thought that he had seen Antony’s pupils blow wide.

Antony leaned back and set Hanyu easily on his feet.

“Well.” The god cleared his throat and took a step back. “That’s one way to learn a dip, though I think next time you should dip me . I must say, you really are much better at this than Theo.”

Hanyu opened his mouth without any particular plan for his words, and found himself saying, “You thought about kissing me.”

He flushed and covered his mouth, but his reaction was nothing compared to Antony’s. The god did not so much step as leap back until he was pressed against the wall, as far from Hanyu as he could possibly get. His eyes were wild, not with the anger Hanyu had expected, but with what he could have sworn was fear.

“I did not!” Antony spat. “I thought no such thing! Don’t tell me what I think!”

Hanyu sank to his knees, not because of any fear of his own but because he wanted to assure the panicked god that he wasn’t going to come any closer. He felt suddenly like he was facing a frightened bird and trying to keep it from taking wing.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “Of course I don’t know what you’re thinking. I was wrong. Forgive me, my lord.”

He kept his gaze fixed on Antony until the god’s eyes stopped bulging quite so wide. Once he felt sure his master wasn’t going to turn and run from the room, he pressed his forehead to the floor to give Antony a private moment to recover.

It also allowed Hanyu to hide his own face-splitting grin. His heart was still giving a fast, joyous patter as he remembered the moment when, he was still quite sure, his own beloved Lord Antony had been about to kiss him.

Chapter Text

ANTONY’S POV

“Valerius!”

Antony’s own cry woke him and he bolted up in bed, gasping for air he didn’t need. His cheeks were damp with tears, and when he tried to dash them away he found that his hands were shaking.

Damn. He rarely dreamed, but it still wasn’t rarely enough.

It had been so vivid. Antony had found Valerius sprawled on the ground in a pool of his own blood, and then as he held him and wept over him his traitorous mind had supplied an observation:

Wait, this isn’t how it happened. He didn’t have any blood left by the time I was through with him.

Antony shuddered and thrust the thoughts from his mind, choking down a sob that tried to claw its way up his throat. It had only been a dream. There was no point thinking about it anymore.

He cast a nervous glance at the naked form sprawled next to him and was relieved to see that he hadn’t awakened Hanyu. Good. The last thing he needed was to be caught in a nightmare, especially after the dancing debacle.

He’d thought his snapping would cause another meltdown, but the boy hadn’t been trembling or crying when Antony finally peeled himself away from the wall to check on his offering. In fact, though Hanyu had been unusually quiet for the rest of the evening, he hadn’t seemed at all downhearted. His bright smile had only faltered when Antony announced that he was going to bed and Hanyu waited to see if he would be scolded for slipping under the sheets alongside him, and as soon as Antony had made an impatient gesture of permission, his grin had reappeared and he’d snuggled close as always. No doubt Antony’s offering was still nurturing the thought that Antony had meant to kiss him after they danced.

The hell of it all was that the boy was right. Antony had been thinking about kissing him.

It wasn’t his fault. Hanyu had been right there in his arms, huge brown eyes wide from his near-fall, cheeks flushed from dancing, soft pink lips parted in blatant offering. Who wouldn’t have had a moment… not even a moment, just an instant, a flash… of temptation?

Antony’s sour mood continued as Hanyu woke and took his breakfast. He was startled, however, when a knock sounded at the door. Hanyu raced to answer it, and Antony heard him offer a cheerful greeting to Bunta.

The older man was standing outside the door, and, when he saw Antony, he gave his usual scowl as he bowed.

“What are you doing here?” Antony didn’t bother to address the glower. He was hardly in a position to complain that somebody glared too much.

“I’m here to take Hanyu abovedeck, my lord,” the man replied levelly. “I thought he might appreciate an escort after what happened yesterday.”

After what happened yesterday, Antony hadn’t been planning to let him go at all. But Hanyu looked pleased at the idea of leaving, and honestly, Antony didn’t blame him. He knew he’d been unpleasant company all morning. 

Anyhow, what was his plan? To keep Hanyu in their rooms forever? He’d have to let him go back sooner or later, and he didn’t feel like denying the boy anything when Bunta was crouching there, no doubt expecting him to be an asshole.

He plastered on a smile. “That was very thoughtful. Will you be available to walk him back as well?”

Antony wished he could do it himself. He wished he could escort Hanyu there, watch from the sidelines all morning, and then walk him back down without taking his eyes off his offering for even an instant.

But then, if wishing could break the curse, Antony would have been skipping in the sunshine and stuffing his face with fresh strawberries centuries ago.

“I can bring him back,” Bunta confirmed.

It didn’t help as much as Antony had hoped it would, but it did give him the strength to offer what he hoped was a nonchalant nod.

“Wonderful. Well then, I’ll see you soon, Hanyu.”

He would have been less nervous if the damn fool had seemed a little bit afraid himself. Instead, Hanyu beamed, offered him a chirpy, “Goodbye, my lord!” and practically skipped out the door. Antony had to fist his hands and clench his teeth to keep from clinging to the boy and begging him not to go… which was ridiculous, since all he would have to do would be to give a simple order. Why was his instinct to ask instead?

After Bunta and Hanyu left, he paced around the sitting room for a while to keep from tearing down the hallway after them. He only relaxed once he was sure they would be abovedeck and beyond his reach.

A glance at the enchanted paper revealed nothing from Titus, which was hardly surprising, but a lovely long letter from Claudia. Good. That would help to soothe his nerves. Antony had just sat down to read it when there was another knock at the door.

Hanyu. What had happened? Had something gone wrong? Antony flew to the door with his heart in his throat.

He yanked the door open, mouth full of frantic questions, and then swallowed them all when he saw the massive form of his lover standing there.

“Hello, Annie,” Marcus said with that dazzling smile of his. “How are you today?”

Antony felt himself beginning to sputter and reached for his courtly training. It took him only an instant to summon his polished, smiling mask.

“I’m doing wonderfully now that you’re here, darling,” he said. “Please come in.”

Marcus followed him into the sitting room, and Antony gestured him to a seat and did his best to collect himself.

It was all so strange. Marcus was the same as always, the same as he had been for a thousand years. There were the arms that wrapped around Antony and made him feel safe in a way nothing else could do since the curse, there was the beloved face of which Antony had kissed every inch, there were the dark eyes so tender as they regarded him. It was all there, everything that had made the man his comfort and his home for untold centuries.

When they were cursed, it had broken Antony. He’d put himself back together, mostly, but it had taken so long and hurt so much. When he’d been broken for a second time, he’d known he couldn’t face that process again. Taken alongside the first wound, there was just too much guilt and pain.

That was when Marcus had sought him out. Four hundred years of intermittent pining, and then he had appeared at Antony’s side as if summoned by magic. He’d been exactly what Antony had needed. Where Theodora coddled him and Felix tried to make him talk about what he was feeling, Marcus would just look at him and say, “You’re all right. You’re too strong to let these silly things bother you so much.” He’d said it so firmly that even Antony had been able to believe him.

Marcus had pulled Antony from what would otherwise have become an endless cycle of self-inflicted agony, and he’d stayed at his side ever since. He’d made him strong, helped him realize and correct his flaws, improved him in every way. Marcus was his lover and his most important person. None of that had changed.

And yet... Somehow as Antony looked at this man, more familiar- more dear and needed- than his own body, all he could see was Hanyu’s pale, terrified face after yesterday’s incident.

Antony took a deep breath. He needed to drop all his etiquette training and be blunt if he was going to fix this rift in their relationship. Honesty would be required, however unnaturally it came to him.

He fixed his gaze on Marcus and asked, “Why did you harass my servant yesterday?”

He’d expected surprise, maybe even annoyance. Instead, Marcus just smiled as though he’d been waiting for the question.

“Harass? Goodness, Annie, I only asked him a few questions. What did he tell you I did?”

What? “No, no, that’s all he said you did. He didn’t make anything up, he just-”

“Then why am I in trouble? All I did was talk to him. Is there a rule against that now?”

“No, but… talking was enough. What do you think you would need to do to scare him? You cut an intimidating figure, you know. When you corner a human on his own-”

Marcus interrupted again. “So I am being chastised for… existing? I can’t help the way I look.”

“That’s not what I meant.” Antony’s voice faltered. “I just don’t want you to-”

“To what?” Marcus smiled flirtatiously. “Be big? You never had a problem with that before, darling.”

“Stop interrupting me,” Antony snapped. “Look, we both know you did this on purpose, all right? You wanted to scare him. Why?”

Marcus’ easy smile tipped, bent into a frown. “What the hell, Annie? You may run this ship, but I am the authority on my own mind and intentions, and I’d appreciate it if you could remember that.”

Antony was struck with the memory of his own words to Hanyu: Don’t tell me what I think! Was it possible that he’d been wrong? Maybe Marcus really hadn’t had any intention of terrorizing Hanyu. Maybe-

“Then why did you interrogate him about me?” he asked.

Marcus’ face went dark and hard, and Antony knew at once that he’d said exactly the wrong thing.

When he spoke, Marcus’ voice was terribly cold. “Well, when my attendant tells me that my lover conspired with his pet to fake a punishment for my exclusive benefit, I get a little curious. It’s a quirk of mine.”

Fuck. Fuck!

“M-Marcus.” Now Antony was stammering, but what else could he do while his mind searched frantically for an explanation that didn’t exist?

Marcus just sat and watched him. Antony wished now that he hadn’t complained about the interruptions- he would give a limb for Marcus to interrupt his fumblings right now.

“It wasn’t fake,” he managed at last. “I really did cane him. You saw.”

“Yes, I did. And as soon as I wasn’t there to see, you waived the rest of the punishment and told him you hadn’t meant it.”

When was Antony’s mind going to be capable of supplying more helpful words than oh fuck?

“Don’t make excuses.” Marcus’ voice sounded so remote that Antony immediately felt himself to be a child again, brought before a glittering throne for a scolding. “You lied to me.”

How was he supposed to argue that? It was the truth.

“I don’t even mind that so much as the fact that you brought him in on it. Why did you do that? Was it fun for you and a human fucktoy to laugh at me behind my back?”

Fucktoy? Antony’s sudden blast of hot rage took him by surprise. How dare Marcus say such a vicious thing about his Hanyu, right after scaring him half to death? Nothing that had happened was Hanyu’s fault!

“He’s not a fucktoy!” he snarled. “Don’t call him that!”

“That’s what you took from that statement?” Marcus barked a quick, incredulous laugh. “Don’t try to redirect the conversation. We’re talking about how you and your attendant made a joke out of me.”

Antony’s dudgeon was still up. “It never would have happened if you weren’t being such a prick! Couldn’t you just accept that I didn’t want Asao and leave it alone?”

“You could have just told me if you’d had enough of that game! I’m not a mind reader.”

“I did tell you! I said over and over again that I don’t fuck humans!”

Marcus rolled his eyes. “With the way you’ve been carrying on over this Hanyu, how was I supposed to know you meant that? You’re not stupid. I’m sure you were capable of telling me more clearly than that.”

Oh shit, is this my fault too? What if I had just told him to stop more firmly? Would that have solved everything without Hanyu being punished? Could I have prevented all of this if I’d just stopped trying to manipulate everybody and been honest for a change? Could I-

-this isn’t about me.

Antony met his lover’s eyes. “I’m sorry for lying to you, Marcus. We can talk about that as much as you want. But first, you’re going to promise me that from now on, you’ll leave my offering out of it.”

“You’re the one who involved him, made him part of your little joke on me!” Marcus spat.

“That’s another thing to be angry at me about, not him.” Antony tried to keep his voice firm and level, and mostly succeeded. “Say whatever you like to me, but I don’t want you scaring him like that ever again. Leave him alone.”

That elicited the flicker of surprise that Antony had expected earlier. Marcus blinked at him, silent for a moment, and Antony could almost have sworn that for just an instant, he looked afraid.

Then he smiled so brilliantly that Antony knew he’d been mistaken.

“If it means that much to you, Annie, then of course.” Marcus’ smile dimmed and his eyes fell to the floor. “But… if you’ll go behind my back like this, how much can I possibly mean to you?”

“Everything.” Antony slipped from his seat to kneel at Marcus’ feet, clasp his hands, and shower them with repentant kisses. “I’m so sorry, it was terrible of me and I’ll never do it again. Please, please forgive me. You mean everything to me.”

It had been true for hundreds of years. And indeed, the thought of losing Marcus made Antony so panicky that it felt like his stomach would claw its way out through his throat at the prospect.

But when Marcus kissed him and whispered his forgiveness, it didn’t feel quite as important as his promise not to bother Hanyu.

Chapter Text

HANYU’S POV

As soon as he saw Kenta, Hanyu realized something: in all the turmoil of his run-in with Lord Marcus and his fear of Antony’s punishment yesterday, he’d forgotten to tell his friend about his good news. How could he have let any momentary setback overshadow the most important event of his entire life?

His brain buzzing with excitement, he practically flew across the deck and grabbed the smaller boy up in a hug. Kenta gave a little squawk of surprise but then relaxed almost immediately, seeming to realize who had him.

Hanyu squealed in his ear. “Kenta! He’s keeping me! Not for six years, forever!”

Kenta’s eyes widened and his mouth stretched into a delighted grin. He shrieked with joy and wriggled ecstatically in Hanyu’s arms. When Hanyu finally put him down, he started jumping up and down like a child.

“That’s amazing!” Kenta cried. “How did you change his mind?”

And that was the best part of all, wasn’t it?

“I didn’t do anything. He just wants me.”

Kenta squealed again. His kindly round face was split almost in two and his eyes were all but lost, he was grinning so broadly. He hugged himself and kept jumping and Hanyu felt that there was no one in the world that it was more satisfying to share good news with.

Kenta whirled to face the others. “Gen! Taiki! Everyone!”

Several members of their cadre had already been drifting towards them to hear what all the fuss was about, but now every face was turning their way.

Unexpectedly, Hanyu felt a little shy. He didn’t think he’d ever been the center of their attention before. But the joy he’d felt in his good fortune was doubling and tripling under the sunshine of Kenta’s pleasure in it, so he ignored his shyness and grinned at them, after giving the cluster of faces a quick glance to make sure that Asao was nowhere to be seen.

“Lord Antony’s keeping me for good,” he announced. “He won’t take an offering next cycle!”

Then there were cheers and congratulations and slaps on the back, and Hanyu relaxed happily into the tide of goodwill. It was a bit of a feather in all their caps, he knew. If even one of the less accomplished members of their cadre could win so much favor with one of the Three, it made them all part of a truly exceptional generation of offerings. Their names would be honored and their teachers commended and promoted once Lord Antony informed the city of his decision.

Still, even though he understood that it wasn’t entirely selfless pleasure, Hanyu couldn’t help feeling a little teary at their response to his good news. It was even better than the parade when they’d been showered in affection from their city. This time, he was receiving affection from people who actually knew him. His chest tightened with joy.

He hadn’t noticed Asao joining the little crowd or being regaled with the news until the smaller man came up and gave him a loose-armed hug. Hanyu stiffened, surprised.

“Asao…?”

His friend pulled back and smiled at him. “Congratulations, Hanyu. It’s no wonder. You’re easy to love.”

Immediately, Hanyu was sorry for every sour, unkind thing he’d thought about Asao lately. He yanked him back into his arms and squeezed him tight.

Asao gave a little pained squeak, and Hanyu released him guiltily. Why did he keep forgetting about the bruises Lord Marcus left?

If Hanyu’s own master ever claimed him, he couldn’t help thinking that it would be different. Antony had allowed Hanyu to cling to him, to cuddle him, to pick him up off his feet and squeeze him. Sometimes he even initiated a touch, as when he’d gathered Hanyu into his arms after his scare from Lord Marcus, and those touches were always wonderful. Surely being used for sexual service would just be a closer, better version of all those kindly touches.

His mind was still busy with the idea when Bunta walked him back down to his door. He bade the older man farewell and slipped through with a half-distracted greeting.

“Hello, Antony!” he hollered as he toed off his shoes. “I’m back!”

“Hanyu.” At his master’s strained tone, Hanyu looked up to see what was the matter.

Antony was sitting on the sofa, and squeezed in next to him was-

Hanyu threw himself down into his bow so quickly that his knees throbbed. “M-my lord! I’m so sorry, I- please forgive your unworthy servant!”

Lord Marcus chuckled and Hanyu’s blood flowed cold.

“Don’t fret, little one, I was just leaving. Annie, am I allowed to walk past him on my way out the door, or is that also ‘harassment?’”

“Go on,” Antony said, sounding exhausted. “I’ll see you later, darling.”

Hanyu heard a quick kiss, then heavy footsteps thudding past him and, blessedly, a door closing. He stayed crouched in his bow, however, breathing so hard he felt as if his lungs might pop.

Was this what it would mean to belong to Antony forever? He’d never considered this aspect of the situation before, but Lord Marcus was his master’s lover. Hanyu was bound to see him sometimes- not just sometimes, but often. Would he have to worry about the fearsome god being there every time he came home from his exercises, or every time he woke up? Would he have to kneel calmly as Antony and Lord Marcus chatted for hours? Would he be relegated back to his pallet if Lord Marcus spent the night- gods, would he have to lie there and listen to them making love above him?

“He’s gone, Hanyu.” Antony’s voice, still gentle with that unusual weariness, cut through his chagrined thoughts. “You can get up.”

“I might just be bowing out of respect for you, my lord,” Hanyu argued as he pushed himself up on his elbows.

Antony received that argument with a snort, which Hanyu thought was a little ungracious of him.

“Right, of course you were.” The god smiled at him once he was up on his knees, but Hanyu could see the strain in the expression.

“What’s wrong?” Hanyu asked.

Antony sighed and patted the cushion next to him. “Come on, sit down. There’s something we need to talk about.”

Hanyu’s mind raced through a dozen increasingly unpleasant possibilities as he reluctantly padded over to the couch. Had Lord Marcus revealed something he’d done wrong during their conversation? Had he made Antony choose between him and Hanyu? Was Hanyu going to be sent away?

“Marcus knows about the faked punishment,” Antony said once Hanyu was sitting beside him. “Asao told him.”

That hadn’t been what Hanyu expected at all. He blinked at the god for a moment, trying to get his thoughts in order.

Antony went on. “You should be careful about what you tell him from now on. He isn’t trustworthy.”

“What?” Hanyu stiffened, practically spitting out the word.

Not trustworthy? Not trustworthy? Yes, things had been strained since the selection ceremony, but Asao had been his best friend for twenty years before that. He’d lied for Hanyu and taken the scoldings and punishments Hanyu had earned on a hundred occasions. He'd pleaded for mercy on Hanyu's behalf more fervently than Hanyu himself. Asao had helped him with his lessons, comforted him in his failures, and gloried in his rare successes. If it weren’t for Asao’s protection, Hanyu would have been sold a dozen times over. How could Antony say such a thing?

“Anything you tell him will get back to Marcus,” the god continued calmly, as if he hadn’t said anything objectionable.

Hanyu’s voice came out lower and more deliberate than he could ever remember it being. “Are you forbidding me to talk with him?”

 Finally, Antony seemed to understand that something was wrong. He twisted his neck to shoot a startled look up at Hanyu.

“Of course not,” the god said. “I’m just telling you to be careful what you say to him. He’s not going to respect your confidences.”

“Lord Marcus could be lying! Maybe he found out from someone else?”

“Who?” Antony’s face creased in concern. “Who else did you tell?”

Hanyu cast his mind back, but the only other person he recalled telling about the false punishment was… “Kenta.”

“Has Kenta ever even spoken to Marcus? After the debacle with that woman and Marcus’ attempt at a trade, I think Theo would claw his eyes out if he even dared to look at the boy. It makes a lot more sense to assume that it was Asao.”

Hanyu’s jaw clenched and his ears buzzed strangely. “He probably just didn’t realize it would be a problem. If I tell him not to pass things along anymore, he’ll stop.”

Antony shook his head. “No. Marcus will keep asking him what he’s learned from you, and Asao will tell him.”

“How dare you say that!” Hanyu exploded. “You don’t know Asao like I do! He wouldn’t do anything to hurt me!”

“He already has.” Antony didn’t look angry about Hanyu’s tone, he just looked pitying, and that made Hanyu even more furious.

Hanyu fisted his hands to hide their shaking. “He’s done more for me than anybody! Every good thing I’ve ever had, I owe to him!”

Antony looked a little dazed by the force of Hanyu’s anger. “I’m not asking you to stop talking to him altogether. I’m just saying… look, maybe you can trust him for most things, but you can’t trust him for this.”

“But I can trust you?” Hanyu snapped. “Even though I’m the first human to enter your bed and live?”

He regretted the words even as he said them. He’d been saving them up so he could ask about them, gently, not throw them out as an accusation in a… fight. This was a fight. He was having a fight with his god. And he had a growing, sickening feeling that he’d just fought dirty.

That feeling intensified as he watched Antony’s face. The god froze for a moment, not seeming to really hear the words, but then his eyes grew wide and wounded for just a second. The look was awful, but it was even worse when his face smoothed out, impassive as a mask.

“Where did you hear that?” he asked, too calmly.

“M-Marcus,” Hanyu stammered. “Lord Marcus, I mean.”

“I see.” Antony nodded.

All the fight had gone out of Hanyu, and his voice was meek when he whispered, “He said you killed your mother, too… Is it true?”

“Yes.” Antony didn’t hesitate and his voice didn’t change as he answered. “I killed my mother and both the humans I loved. So, you’re right. You shouldn’t trust me, either. It’s past time you figured that out.”

He stood and headed for the door. Hanyu would have thought he was completely unaffected, except that he left his boots and marched out into the hallway barefoot.

Oh no. Hanyu bent over on the couch, buried his face in his knees, and sobbed without the slightest effort to quiet his noises. No matter how loud he was, there was nobody to hear.

ANTONY’S POV

Antony padded down the hallway on bare feet, without the slightest idea where he was going.

He felt like he’d taken a hard blow to the face. Hanyu’s words, his furious expression, his contemptuous tone… they all kept playing through his head again and again.

He hates me.

It was right. It was fair. He was Hanyu’s jailer. The boy should hate him. What’s more, he should hate him on behalf of Valerius, Mother, and Sana, not to mention the faceless thousands he’d killed as well. Wherever they were, they hated him- he had no illusions about that. But they hadn’t had the chance to spit their loathing at him in life. Now that they had Hanyu for their representative, Antony would accept all the rage he was owed.

Soon.

First, he needed a moment to collect himself. However justified Hanyu’s hatred might be, it had caught him off guard.

He’d known that that innocent adoration couldn’t last. It had been only a matter of time before he ruined it, like he ruined everything else he had ever touched. He was poison. It was inevitable that Hanyu would realize that.

I had almost two months of someone thinking I was good, he tried to console himself. That’s more than I could have expected.

He still wanted to curl into the tightest ball he could manage and cry.

He wondered distantly where he was going. The sun hadn’t set yet, so he couldn’t go abovedeck to breathe the open air, wonderful as the idea sounded. Theodora had her own sorrows to tend. There were several places he could have his breakdown without anyone seeing him, the trouble was getting to them without being seen.

He didn’t realize he was going to Marcus’ room until he found himself at the door, but as soon as he lifted his hand to knock, it all fell into place.

Of course.

There was nowhere else, nobody else. There never had been.

Asao opened the door and Antony stumbled past him without a glance. He couldn’t find it in himself to be angry with the attendant for revealing his deception and sparking the fight. It wasn’t this man’s fault that Hanyu was loyal… loyal and good and hating him.

“Annie?” Marcus poked his head out of his bedchamber. “What are you-”

His question broke off as Antony collapsed against his broad chest. Marcus’ arms moved up to hold him. It was probably just instinct, but it felt wonderful nonetheless.

Antony was afraid he would break down in tears as soon as he opened his mouth, but when he spoke, he was surprised to find that he sounded furious. “I need you to hurt me.”

It was one of the best things about their relationship. When the guilt became too much, he knew he could count on Marcus to punish him as he deserved.

Antony’s thumb was worrying at the tiny little callus beneath his ring finger. It was so small it was barely discernible, but it was there. That was equal parts comforting and torturous.

His mind was in such a whirl that he hadn’t even noticed Marcus pulling him onto the bed until his lover’s hands were on his trousers, yanking them off so roughly that they tore. Antony looked up into his partner’s face and saw no hesitation or indecision, only excitement.

“Are you going to come whining to me in a few weeks, saying I was too rough again?” Marcus demanded as he pulled at Antony’s shirt.

“No.” Antony closed his eyes and gave himself over. “Go on. Hurt me. Please.”

Once, he had asked Felix to do this for him. He’d thought it would be easy since they had played with pain-pleasure together before. But as soon as he had made his demand, the other man’s face had pinched.

“Wait, you just want me to… hurt you? Where is this coming from? Can you explain to me what you’re feeling and why you want this?”

“Stop asking questions!” Antony had snarled. “Just do it!”

Felix had crossed his arms. “No. This doesn’t seem healthy and I don’t think it’s what you really need.”

Felix had been wrong, Antony reflected as Marcus yanked his arms over his head, his grip squeezing Antony’s wrists until the sweet, grinding pain drove every other thought from his mind. This was exactly what he needed.

More than that, it was what he deserved.

Chapter Text

HANYU’S POV

Hanyu cried until he thought he must be out of tears, drank several cups of water, and cried some more. His eyes burned and his head felt thick and somehow soggy, but he just couldn’t stop.

He wasn’t a person who got in fights. He wasn’t someone who lost his temper and yelled. That wasn’t him. He hurt people’s feelings, but it was always by accident. He wasn’t the sort of person who purposely threw out the most hurtful thing he could think of just because he was angry.

Not until today.

He’d known he was capable of thoughtlessness, but deliberate cruelty? That was new.

I don’t want to be a person who does that.

No matter how angry he got, he never again wanted to see somebody look at him the way Antony had. The shock, the naked anguish, then the struggle to conceal it… it had been horrible.

I’ll be better. I won’t ever do it again.

Where had that thick, choking rage even come from? Something about hearing Antony- Antony in particular- speak ill of Asao had been unbearable. Even now, the memory sent a hot spike of anger through his misery.

Now that he was a little calmer, he had to admit that Antony had probably been right. The simplest, most logical explanation was that Asao had been the one to tell Lord Marcus what had happened. But that did nothing to quell his irritation at the thought of Antony, of all people, saying it.

Why was it so awful that it was Antony? He didn’t think he would have been nearly so angry if Kenta, or Bunta, or even Lord Theodora had said it. But because it was Antony, Hanyu had flown into a rage.

A terrible, destructive rage. Even if there had been no basis for Antony’s accusation against Asao, Hanyu knew beyond any doubt that he should never have said what he did to the god.

He’d suspected, ever since Lord Marcus had told him about the humans his master had bedded and killed, that their deaths had been accidents. Furthermore, given Antony’s reaction to his little swoon, he’d been able to guess that the accidents had been traumatic for the god. After the way Antony had trembled against him when he tried to drink, how could Hanyu have used that knowledge as a weapon?

I was so cruel. He’s forgiven me for everything I’ve done wrong, and the minute I was angry with him I wanted to hurt him.

At least he knew now about this dark, hard place within him. Now he would be prepared to stop himself if he got that livid again someday. He had never been good at controlling his words, but he would learn to be better when he was angry. He didn’t want to be spiteful like that ever again.

He paced the rooms and barely registered the passage of time. When he heard a knock at the door, he flew to answer it even though he knew that Antony wouldn’t have knocked.

It was Eiji, standing there with the supper tray. The beautiful man’s eyes widened when he saw the state Hanyu was in.

“Are you… all right?” Eiji ventured.

It was so kind of him to ask, after all Hanyu’s thoughtlessness, that Hanyu lunged forward and threw his arms around Eiji. The other man stiffened, then relaxed and gave his back a few awkward pats. It was exactly the way Antony reacted to hugs, and it set Hanyu off crying again.

“Oh dear.” Even that sounded like Antony. “Did something happen?”

Hanyu’s voice came out as a wail. “I did something awful and I know how to apologize for disobeying but not for being mean!”

“Why is it always apologies around here lately?” Eiji muttered. “Do you want me to find one of your friends, or…?”

His sentence trailed off helplessly. Hanyu pried himself off the other man, wincing a little at the wet spot he’d left on his shoulder, and looked up at Eiji’s face. He looked uncomfortable, almost panicked.

“Sorry,” Hanyu whispered, and Eiji shook his head.

“No, no, I wish I could help, but… I’m not very good with people. I don’t really know how to be comforting. Should I try to find someone else for you?”

“It’s fine. You’re just trying to work and I grabbed you and cried all over you and… well, I guess that’s the end of any chance I had of impressing you.”

Eiji blinked. “You wanted to… impress me?”

Hanyu shrugged and looked at the floor. “Well, yes. I always worry that he wishes he had you back instead of being stuck with me. Now I’m sure he does, because not only am I a bad offering but I was just an asshole today and you would never do something like that. You’re perfect!”

“You think I’m perfect?”

The naked astonishment in Eiji’s voice drew Hanyu’s gaze back up. He and Eiji stared at each other for a moment, then Eiji burst out laughing. It was a surprising laugh, so high it was almost shrill, and the older man clapped a hand over his mouth as if he could contain it that way.

“Sorry,” Eiji wheezed. “It’s just… if you only knew. I’m the farthest thing from perfect, Hanyu. I never earned Lord Antony’s notice the way you have, and since leaving his service I’ve broken my new master’s heart. Even now, I’m trying to figure out how to escape Lord Antony’s plans to apologize to me and wondering whether throwing myself off the ship might work. I’m such a mess.”

“You don’t want him to apologize?”

Eiji gave a little shudder. “Gods, no. It sounds like torture to sit there while a god makes apologies I don’t deserve. On the other hand, I think my lord might drag him in by his collar if I don’t let him track me down before too long, so I suppose I should just accept my fate.”

“Lord Felix must care about you a lot,” Hanyu marveled.

“I think he does.” Eiji sounded just as awestruck. “I’ve been lucky. And… Lord Antony cares a great deal about you, too, Hanyu. I heard what he told my master a few days ago. He wants to be good to you.”

“He is good to me.” Hanyu’s aching eyes filled again. “And I was horrible anyway.”

“Well… I think he cares about you too much to give up on you after one mistake. You should talk to him.” Eiji laughed suddenly. “I’m starting to sound like my lord, telling everyone to talk like it’ll solve everything. But you really should.”

Hanyu nodded. “All right. Thank you, Eiji.”

“It’s no trouble.” The other man glanced at his feet and flushed. “Anyhow, I need to get going. Everyone’s food will be cold.”

“You’re amazing,” Hanyu said fervently. “I really mean it. Thank you.”

Eiji’s blush deepened. “You said that already. Goodbye, now. You should eat your food.”

It was so much like what Antony would say, though more politely worded, that Hanyu had to bite back a slightly hysterical giggle of his own as he waved goodbye.

He felt a little better after Eiji’s visit. He stopped pacing, ate heartily (so much crying was exhausting), and fell into bed shortly thereafter. Now that the sun was down, Antony probably wasn’t coming back until morning. Hanyu would be able to manage the necessary conversation much better if he’d rested.

Should he dress up tomorrow in anticipation of the god’s arrival, or not? His inclination was to put on his most beautiful robe and finest jewels, but then, that was hardly the humble note that a person was supposed to strike for an apology.

A month ago, he would have beautified himself as much as he could in hopes that it would incline his master to mercy. Now, mercy felt like a given. Perhaps that was a foolish surfeit of confidence, but Hanyu genuinely didn’t think Antony would do him lasting harm for this or any transgression. Hanyu didn’t need to strategize the best way to survive the encounter, so he could focus on actually apologizing instead of trying to manipulate the god out of his anger.

He drifted off to sleep still planning what he would say when Antony returned. He was exhausted from tears and emotions, and though he heard the door open and staggering steps crossing the sitting room, he didn’t really wake up.

Not until morning, when he woke to find Antony, still wearing his rumpled day clothes and braid, curled in a tight ball on Hanyu’s long-abandoned cot.

His gasp woke the god, who opened his eyes and looked up at him with an expression that Hanyu didn’t know how to read. It wasn’t the anger he’d expected, nor even annoyance. Instead, Antony just looked… resigned.

“I’m ready to hear whatever you need to say,” the god told him. “Go ahead. Be as harsh as you like. You won’t be in trouble.”

Hanyu slid out of the bed and dragged Antony into his arms. It wasn’t how he’d planned to make his apology, but he’d been expecting anger. He hadn’t expected Antony to offer himself as a recipient for Hanyu’s anger, and the sight of that flat acceptance made a hug seem like a much better option than groveling.

Words poured out of Hanyu as he buried his face in Antony’s hair. “I’m so so so sorry. It was an awful thing to say and I can’t believe I was so mean but I swear I’ll never do it again. You’ve been wonderful to me and never said anything so cruel no matter what I did. You really should punish me for this and I hope you do so you’ll know I’m not apologizing because I’m scared of that, I’m just so so sorry and… gods. It was awful. You didn’t deserve that, especially not from me.”

Antony sat quietly through the barrage. He stayed stiff in Hanyu’s arms but made no move to pull away. Hanyu knew he ought to take the hint and release his god, but he just couldn’t bring himself to do it. Even the thought of letting Antony go made him squeeze all the tighter.

“Don’t… aren’t you still angry I said that about Asao?”

He was, but it was a strange reaction that he could think of no good reason for. “I know you were right. He was the one who told Lord Marcus. I’ll be more careful what I say to him.”

There was another long moment of silence. Hanyu stared down at the top of Antony’s head. He glimpsed something dark on part of the god’s scalp, but he couldn’t make it out through the silver hairs.

“What about the rest.” It might have been a question, but Antony didn’t say it that way. “The things I did. I understand if you hate me for that.”

“I could never hate you! I’m sure it was an accident, and I know you feel awful about it and I never should have used it to hurt you. That was the nastiest thing I’ve ever done and I still can’t quite believe it really happened.”

Finally there was a bit of movement from the god. Antony’s shoulders shook, and after a panicky second Hanyu realized that he was laughing. It was low and bitter, different from the sweet gasping laugh Hanyu loved to hear so much, but anything was better than that frozen stillness.

“That’s the worst thing you’ve ever done? In your entire life? Oh, Hanyu. No wonder you sleep so soundly.”

“It was cruel!” Hanyu argued, and Antony pulled away from his embrace.

Hanyu started a little when he saw how flat and lifeless the god’s face was. He didn’t even seem to see Hanyu when their eyes met.

“If you’re going to be cruel to someone, I’m a good choice,” Antony said. “As you now know, I heartily deserve whatever you feel the need to say to me.”

Something was different about him today. It wasn’t his voice or his slow movements so much as his face. Yes, his usual expression was a scowl, but there were a hundred details and variations within that scowl that Hanyu had spent the last two months learning to read. There was nothing to read on his smooth, calm face now. He looked… dead.

Fear crawled down Hanyu’s spine and started tying tight knots in his belly. What had happened to his cranky, prickly master? Who was this… doll? Had Hanyu done this with his careless words?

“If you don’t have anything else to say right now,” Antony said, interrupting his panicky thoughts, “I would like to visit Theodora and eat.”

“Yes, my lord,” Hanyu whispered.

It was the best course of action imaginable. Surely Lord Theodora would know what to do.

When Antony rolled off the cot and padded to the washroom, his steps were uneven. And when Hanyu turned to look at the abandoned blanket, he saw that it was streaked with the unmistakable russet of dried blood.

Chapter Text

ANTONY’S POV

Antony knew that he was making Hanyu uneasy, but he couldn’t worry overmuch about that through his sense of calm.

His skin tingled, not unpleasantly, and the world felt slow around him. He was glad that the feeling had survived his few hours of sleep. With luck, it would last a while longer. He’d never been able to control its coming and going, but sometimes he was able to hold onto this sense of floating and unreality for weeks at a time.

If he had his way, it would last forever.

He fixed his braid, careful to avoid the already-scabbed patch of scalp where Marcus had ripped out a handful of his hair. In a few days, the hair would be back, the dozens of slices in his flesh would be closed and smooth, the bruises would be gone, and there would be no evidence that any of it had ever happened.

That was how it was with everything. Haircuts, tattoos, injuries, lovers… none of them made a lasting mark since the night of the curse. Valerius was cut into every inch of Antony’s body, from the little ring callus that would never soften to the dozens of scars mangling his torso, but Sana? There wasn’t a trace of them. And soon there would be no trace of Marcus, either.

When Antony was floating like this, he could think those sorts of things without losing himself. Everything was better when nothing was real.

He found Hanyu picking at his breakfast and didn’t bother scolding the boy to eat more as he would usually have done. He just sat patiently until Hanyu pushed his half-eaten meal away and spoke, his voice thick with tears.

“Who did you drink from?” 

“Nobody.” Antony was a little confused, but that was all right.

“Please, my lord, I saw the blood on the cot,” Hanyu said around a sob. “I know it isn’t my place to object, and I didn’t deserve to serve you after what I did, but-”

Antony waited for the rest of what the boy had to say, but instead he just sniffled miserably and fell silent. After a moment, Antony decided that Hanyu wasn’t going to elaborate further.

“I didn’t drink from anyone,” he said. “That’s the truth. I just hurt myself. Clumsy of me. But a little blood from you will set me to rights. Are you ready to go now?”

Hanyu was quiet on the walk. Unusual as it was, his silence suited Antony fine. Bunta’s scowl and Kenta’s obvious nervousness as they looked up from their own breakfasts couldn’t touch him today. He greeted Theo genially as she rose to receive them, though he observed that she didn’t look very good at all.

He inquired politely after Chujiro, and Theodora’s eyes filled with tears.

“He’s still sleeping most of the time,” she said, gesturing to the man, who was indeed sleeping. “I don’t think it’ll be… well. Were you here to read?”

Antony saw the moment when her gaze turned sharp as it raked over him. Yes, his gait was a little off, but what was there to catch her eye when he was standing still?

“I hoped to eat,” he said, hoping the interruption would throw her off. “Is that agreeable?”

Her face twisted like she was a human biting a slice of lemon. “Can you at least try not to have so much… moaning this time?”

“Sorry, my lord,” Hanyu squeaked.

Clearly, he had not lost any of his awe of Theodora, no matter how haggard and despairing she looked. With any luck, that dread would keep the boy’s noises in check.

Theodora’s hand gripped Antony’s shoulder, and that was fine even though her fingers were digging into one of the knife cuts. Antony had been a little worried that the sight of Hanyu’s bared throat would be enticing enough to shake him from his blessed sense of unreality, but it did not.

What ruined everything was the taste.

Hanyu’s blood filled his mouth, warm and wonderful as ever, but it was subtly different this time. There was a bitter note that had never been among the flavors before.

Antony had been able to stay dispassionate as he saw and heard that Hanyu was frightened by his demeanor, but when he tasted the boy’s fear, it brought the world screaming back upon him in all its terrible reality.

I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. You’re kind and good and I never meant- He wrapped his arms around Hanyu’s solid body, ignoring the pain as his movement pulled at all his wounds.

“Antony?” Theo’s voice was hesitant.

“I-It’s all right, my lord,” Hanyu said. “He’s not drinking anymore.”

It was true. Antony had swallowed his first mouthful, but he couldn’t bring himself to take another. He didn’t deserve Hanyu’s blood. He didn’t deserve Hanyu in any respect.

“Why are you still here?” he choked, his face still buried against his offering’s neck. “You know what I did.”

There was no reply, and he could feel Hanyu and Theo exchanging startled looks over his head. He knew he should be embarrassed, but a dozen overwhelming feelings were crashing in on him at once and he didn’t have space for something as minor as worrying about his dignity.

“All right!” Theo, still standing over them, spoke loudly enough that Antony’s head snapped up so he could see her face. “I’m sorry I said anything about the moaning. It was much better than… whatever this is. Are you all right?”

Antony was still gathering himself. He couldn’t quite find the words to answer her, and after a moment she spoke again, her voice a little frantic.

“Antony, please. I’m not good at figuring these things out if you won’t tell me. Are you all right?”

She didn’t get her answer because a feeble voice from the bed quavered out, “Theo?”

Theodora was kneeling by Chujiro’s bedside in an instant, clasping his hand as she gazed up at him. “Chujiro! You’re awake!”

The old man’s face was so sad and tender as he looked at her that Antony forgot his own whirling confusion for the moment and dropped his gaze, feeling like an intruder.

“Yes I am, sweet Theo,” Chujiro said softly, then looked over at Hanyu. “You’re the young man who reads so nicely, aren’t you? Here to read to me? I’d like you to give us the room for a little while.”

“We’ll just come back later,” Antony said, though he hadn’t been addressed. “Um… good to see you both. Thank you for your help, Theo.”

Antony followed Hanyu out the door, grateful to leave Theodora and Chujiro to their moment of clarity. He needed to think about other things.

“Did you get enough to drink?” Hanyu asked timidly once they were back in their own rooms.

“Of course I did.”

He hadn’t, not really. Not enough to replace the blood Marcus had spilled last night. But the thought of taking another mouthful of Hanyu’s blood to fuel his own wicked, undeserving existence was repugnant.

Theo had loved Chujiro for years and treated him so well that he would look at her like that. She had earned the right to drink his blood. Antony, in comparison, was nothing but a parasite. Eiji and Zenji and all of them had deserved better than him. Valerius and Sana had certainly deserved better. And Hanyu, cheery sweet-natured Hanyu whose outburst yesterday was the worst thing he’d ever done, Hanyu deserved…

As soon as the thought occurred to Antony he was astonished by how simple and perfect it was. Why hadn’t it come to him sooner? Fuck, he was thick.

He needed to broach the topic carefully. He crossed to sit on the couch and patted the cushion next to him. Obediently, Hanyu sat beside him.

The boy was bouncing his knee nervously. Antony needed to settle him down or he would take the suggestion all wrong. He considered pasting on a smile, but Hanyu knew him better than that. He let his face fall into a scowl instead, and that seemed to do the trick. The boy relaxed against him, tucking his feet up on the sofa and leaning over at the ridiculous angle required to rest his head on Antony’s shoulder.

“You like it at Theo’s, don’t you?” Antony asked, trying not to notice how good the trusting weight felt.

Hanyu nodded vigorously, battering Antony’s ear with the top of his head. “Oh yes! Everyone’s a little sad right now, of course, but I think it’s usually an awfully cheerful place. Kenta loves it. It reminds me of the temple dormitories, only much nicer.”

“Theo’s an improvement over the priests?”

Another nod. “I loved Father Shu and some of the others, but Kenta was telling me about how Lord Theodora brings them books and finds teachers so they can study whatever they want. Not because it’s pleasing or anything, but just because they like it!”

Oh. That did sound nice.

And what had Antony done? Pushed the boy into playing music after he said he had no gift for it and dragged him around making him read because it was what Antony liked him to do. What if Hanyu wanted to learn about surgery or pottery or fishing? Come to think of it, he’d mentioned several times that he would be interested to have Thad teach him about fish, and Antony had never done anything to ensure that his wish was fulfilled.

Well, that was just further evidence that this was a good idea.

“You said you’d like to study fish with Thaddeus,” he ventured, and Hanyu seized on the idea at once.

“Oh yes! I love animals! Back at the temple there were lots of birds and lizards, and cats to keep the mice away, and so many mice that the cats mostly left the birds and lizards alone. And sometimes Father Shu would let me pet his camel! She was old and very grand and he’d named her Ami after his great-aunt who he didn’t like.”

It was so tempting to let himself be swept away by the happy chatter and forget his plans, but Antony couldn’t let himself be seduced. He tried to keep his voice gentle as he steered the conversation back on course.

“So fish are a natural next step from camels? Well, Thad would be delighted to teach you. You liked his rooms, didn’t you?”

Hanyu shrugged. “I didn’t notice much about them. Lord Thaddeus was very kind, though.”

“And Felix! Do you like Felix?”

“I haven’t met Lord Felix,” Hanyu replied. “Everyone seems awfully fond of him, though. I think he’s been good to Eiji.”

Damn. If the boy had met Felix, no doubt this would be an easier idea to sell. Humans seemed to swoon over him at first sight. Even so…

He drew a deep breath, steeled himself, and simply blurted it out. “What would you think about going to live with one of them?”

Hanyu reeled back on the couch and gaped down at him, his brown eyes wide and shocked. “W-what?”

“You could go live with Theo, if there’s room with her. You’d get to be with Kenta. Wouldn’t that be nice? Or Felix, if you meet him and like him, which everybody does, or you could live with Iovita. They’re funny, you’d love them. Or Thad! You like Thad, don’t you?”

Hanyu’s face was already pale from Antony’s feeding, but it whitened another shade under the golden tan of his skin.

“P-please,” the boy whispered, his eyes beginning to fill. “Don’t send me away, please!”

Antony needed to make him understand. “I’m not sending you away, I’m just suggesting some other options! Better options! They’re not like me. They’re good. You deserve to be with someone good, Hanyu.”

“I want to be yours,” Hanyu insisted. “Please don’t get rid of me! I’ll do better! I’ll never say something so awful again, I swear!”

Antony already regretted his impulsive declarations. Hanyu hadn’t had time to get to know Felix or Iovita, or even Thaddeus, really. Of course he would be frightened at the thought of being given to a stranger. What Antony should have done was keep the idea to himself for the moment and start inviting them all over to let Hanyu get to know them. Cloelia, too, and perhaps Seneca… then, once Hanyu knew which of them he wanted, Antony would arrange it all. 

It wasn’t too late, despite the alarming way he’d introduced the idea. He could start inviting visitors right away. They could still-

His thoughts were interrupted as Hanyu slipped from the couch and threw himself at Antony’s feet.

“Please keep me!” His voice was high with terror and tears. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’ll be good-”

Antony leaned over and patted his stiff shoulders reassuringly. “It’s all right! You can stay here as long as you want, but when you find someone else-”

“I don’t want someone else!” Hanyu wailed. “Please, I’ll do anything you want, I’ll take any other punishment, but please-”

“It’s not a punishment! I just think you’d be happier-”

“I wouldn’t! I’m happier with you than I’ve ever been! I just want-”

“You lived in that fucking temple your whole life, you don’t know what you want. You deserve better. You-”

“I don’t want better! I want you!”

It was the first statement either of them had been able to finish in this whole exchange, Antony thought nonsensically.

He looked at his offering. Antony couldn’t see his face, but Hanyu’s whole body was tense and… trembling? Was the thought of leaving him truly so terrible?

“W-Wouldn’t you miss me?” Hanyu whispered, and Antony’s useless lump of a heart shattered.

Oh, no.

When he managed to force his voice out, it was almost a whimper. “I would. Very much.”

He gazed down at Hanyu’s broad back and tumble of hair. How had he let this happen again? He’d been so careful for so many years, but there it was. He would miss Hanyu.

He didn’t dare probe the feeling any further. It was enough to know that he didn’t want Hanyu to go, which meant Hanyu needed to go as soon as possible. The only way to save both of them was to find Hanyu a new master, but Antony was incapable of doing that in the face of the boy’s objections.

In the first place, he couldn’t trust this person to somebody who would be willing to take him when he cried and begged to stay. In the second place, Antony himself was helpless before Hanyu’s tears.

He needed to convince Hanyu, make him want to leave. He had to let Hanyu know what he was.

“Get up,” Antony said shakily, wishing his voice still held the calm of the floating, unreal feeling he’d lost so suddenly. “Come into the bedroom with me. I’m going to tell you a story.”

Chapter Text

HANYU’S POV

Hanyu had never been so nervous in his life. Not when he was called before the High Priest, not when he met Antony, not when he waited for his god to return from the battle… nothing he had ever felt could compare to the fear singing through his veins now.

Antony had opened his closet and pulled several things out of his chest, the chest that had caused so much trouble what seemed like a lifetime ago. His face was no longer flat and distant as it had been that morning, nor was it wounded as it had been yesterday when Hanyu spat those fateful words at him. Instead, he looked grim and determined, and that scared Hanyu worse than either of the other expressions had done.

His god didn’t want to get rid of him. Hanyu was almost sure of that. His voice had been too raw and sincere when he said that he would miss Hanyu if he were gone. But he seemed to have it in his head that Hanyu would be better off without him, and that kept Hanyu on edge. How was a person supposed to talk a god out of doing something that he intended as a kindness?

Antony sat cross-legged at the foot of the bed, facing Hanyu where he perched uneasily at the head. Hanyu had sat like this with Asao a hundred times on their temple cots, gossiping and telling secrets. Was this the universal pose for exchanging confidences?

“I suppose the best place to start is with ourselves,” Antony said, shaking him from his thoughts. “My friends and I… we’re elves, not gods.”

He watched Hanyu solemnly as if he were expecting some sort of reaction, but Hanyu was careful to swallow his giggle. “Oh?”

Antony blinked. “Oh? That’s all you have to say?”

“Well…” Hanyu shrugged. “It’s just a little silly. Of course you’re gods. I’ve seen how strong and fast you are. You don’t get any older and you eat blood. Whether you’re called gods or ‘elves,’ you’re certainly not humans.”

“No, we’re not. But that doesn’t make us gods. We didn’t used to be like this.”

“So you became gods?”

“No!” Antony shook his head. “We were cursed!”

“All right. Cursed to be gods.”

Antony was beginning to look frustrated. “No! We were born like anyone else, and we can’t see into anybody’s minds or fly or make new lands or people or anything like that.”

Hanyu shrugged, unperturbed. “I never said you did. Why would I expect that? You’ve never said you could. Those aren’t things I would expect a god to do.”

Gods didn’t age. Gods recovered from what should have been mortal injuries. Gods were stronger and faster than any human could dream of being. Gods had dark skin and pointed ears and fangs. Everybody knew it, and Hanyu didn’t understand where Antony was getting all these other ideas for powers he felt he ought to have.

“I-” Antony looked as if he wanted to argue more, but instead he sighed. “Fine. It doesn’t matter. You just need to realize that we were different when we were born. Our people lived longer than humans- two hundred years, sometimes- but we got older and died. We could go in the sun and eat ordinary food.”

Ah. They had been quite different indeed, then. Hanyu felt his chest filling with excited questions, but he kept them down. This was clearly not a time for interruptions.

Antony continued. “There were humans there, too, but they weren’t… well, they were serfs. That’s something like a cross between a slave and a farmer. The few humans who weren’t bound to a particular lord’s land worked as laborers or servants, and they weren’t paid very well. Unless they worked for my mother, that is.”

Antony turned to his pile and retrieved something. It was the portrait of the woman that Hanyu had found before. Looking at her face next to Antony’s, the resemblance was striking. They had the same startlingly dark skin and pale, expressive brows. She wore elegant clothes and had jewels in her ears and at her throat, but there was still an indefinable simplicity in the way she held herself. Her face as she smiled at the artist- at Antony- was so warm and affectionate that Hanyu felt tears spring to his eyes. 

He had liked her as soon as he saw the painting, but now he liked her even more. He liked anybody who would look at Antony so tenderly.

“This was my mother,” the god- Hanyu hadn’t found his arguments to the contrary very convincing- said, pointing. “Her name was Cassia. She was a concubine of King Octavius, my father.”

“Do you have a picture of him?” Hanyu asked.

Maybe Antony’s father had provided the long nose and thin lips that Hanyu longed to pepper with kisses. Maybe, being a king, he’d also provided Antony’s propensity to glower. Cassia was smiling and, given the lines of her face, it seemed to be her habitual expression.

As if in answer to Hanyu’s thoughts, Antony scowled. It was such a dear, familiar expression after all his solemnity that Hanyu couldn’t help breathing a soft sigh of relief.

“No,” his master said. “I didn’t care to make a portrait of the king. But my mother was wonderful. She had come from a poor family, and she tried to make sure Claudia, Titus and I realized how lucky we were never to be without. She was a very gentle person who loved music and flowers… and animals, so the two of you would have gotten along.”

There was something so easy and intimate about the assertion that Hanyu was a little startled. The idea that Antony had drawn a connection in his mind, however simple, between his clearly adored mother and his foolish slave was somehow staggering.

Antony was still speaking, oblivious to Hanyu’s churning thoughts.

“She was honest and sincere, which was not a very good trait for a member of the court, so she mostly stayed in her own little house and courtyard within the harem, where the consort and the other concubines wouldn’t have to see her all the time. And, I suppose, where they wouldn’t see us.”

“You, Lord Claudia, and Lord Titus?”

“Yes.” The god nodded, his face growing grim. “The consort and her children were always afraid that one of us would try to seize the throne. It had happened before, that a bastard would raise enough support to unseat the trueborn heirs. And they were right to worry, because even though our mother tried her best to persuade all of us to stay well clear of politics, Claudia and I were scheming and building a faction at court by the time we were fifteen.”

Hanyu couldn’t keep himself from blurting out the question. “You were going to take the crown?”

“Not at first,” his master replied. “We just wanted to have enough friends and supporters that we could protect ourselves and our mother from the consort and her children when the king died.”

Antony stopped and laughed. His laughter had been so hard and bitter as he told this story, and this laugh was no exception. He curled his fingers into a fist and tapped it lightly on his knee. Hanyu didn’t know why, but he felt that Antony wanted to strike himself harder but was restraining himself because of his offering’s presence.

“Well, that’s what Claudia and Titus wanted,” the god said. “I was more ambitious, by which I mean that I was stupid. I hoped to spearhead some social reforms. I was quite the dreamer at the time. I wanted more money for schools, more ships built for exploration, equal rights for humans…”

The first two reforms sounded like exactly what Hanyu would expect of his kindhearted, map-collecting master, but the third gave him pause. Antony had wanted to make humans equal to the gods? The idea was mad… but then, as he said, perhaps they had not quite been gods yet. Surely, no one would propose something so ridiculous now.

Antony went on. “I hardly remember what I wanted. Nothing that endeared me to my father, certainly. He had never been a particularly warm parent, but it infuriated him when I would bring proposals or appeals for one of my pet projects before the court. I didn’t care. I thought that as long as he was alive, he would protect me, no matter how far I pushed propriety. After all, he was my fucking father.”

There was a strange note of appeal in the last sentence, and Hanyu wasn’t sure how to respond. He’d never known his father and wasn’t sure what could reasonably be expected from one. Yes, there had been priests he particularly liked, especially Father Shu, but he’d never assumed that they would offer him any special protection. That had always come from his friends, especially Asao… and these days, from Antony. What did Hanyu know about fathers?

Luckily, Antony continued before he had to come up with a response.

“Even though we weren’t angling for the throne, we proved to be surprisingly popular, especially among the younger members of the nobility. The more support we gained, the more the consort and the Crown Prince took notice. Not long after Titus came of age, they started to pay very close attention to us. Claudia and Titus realized what was happening and tried to warn me to be careful, but I’d become… distracted.”

Antony turned again and retrieved another portrait. This was the one of the human man with plain clothes in the garden, and the god looked down at it with a raw tenderness that made Hanyu’s chest ache.

“Valerius,” Antony said, pronouncing the man’s name softly and worshipfully. “He was one of my mother’s servants. Her gardener. We met when I came to visit her during his first week of work and he tripped and spilled fertilizer on my feet. He was so embarrassed… his nostrils would flare when he was feeling shy, and it made him look angry. We used to stand around stammering like fools while he got more and more nervous and I worked myself into a panic because I thought I was infuriating him…”

The god’s voice was so soft and fond that Hanyu, childishly, wanted to beg him to stop at this part, while the story was still happy.

Antony shook himself. “We became friends, and then we fell in love. It wasn’t technically illegal for elves and humans to be together- lords were known to abuse their serfs fairly regularly, and there were relationships and even children between humans and lower-class elves- but it was an extreme taboo, so we kept it a secret from everyone but Mother for almost four years.”

“Your mother didn’t mind?”

“She was thrilled, actually.” Antony gazed down to the bedspread, where he’d set her portrait. “Mother never was one to worry about social status. She adored Valerius, and she was so happy to see our joy.”

Hanyu stared at his master and tried to imagine him lovestruck and youthful. Not that he looked old now, but his small frame was so full of years and sorrows that even his unlined face sometimes seemed incredibly ancient. What must he have been like when he was with Valerius in the garden, in the sun?

Antony’s face turned so soft when he spoke of his long-ago lover that for just a moment, Hanyu thought he could imagine it. He pictured his god, sun-drenched and beaming, holding the gardener’s dirty hand and laughing at the man’s protests that he would ruin his fine clothes. He pictured them kissing through smiles and curling up in the grass, their legs tangling together like roots.

It was a beautiful thought, far too beautiful to ruin with jealousy. Hanyu only wished that the story of Antony and Valerius could have had a happy ending, that the love on Antony’s face didn’t have to be paired with the anguish in his voice.

He also wished that he hadn’t spoken so cruelly and flippantly about Valerius’ death. Gods. What was the matter with him?

Antony was still speaking, and Hanyu reluctantly shook off his thoughts to hear the next dreaded part.

“It might have gone on like that, but I got sloppy about my intrigues while I was distracted by him, and finally it was clear that the consort suspected us of aiming for the throne. At that point, it was all over. No matter how many supporters we drummed up, my brother and sister and I wouldn’t outlive our father by more than a year.”

The god laughed, low and bitter. Hanyu wished he could hug him, but he stayed on his side of the bed for fear that the slightest movement would bring the story to an end. As much as he didn’t want to hear the tale’s finale, he didn’t think he could live with the curiosity.

“Ironically enough, that was what sealed it,” Antony said. “Our only hope was for one of us to make a bid for the throne. I thought it would be Claudia for sure. She’s the smartest of us, always planning and maneuvering a few steps ahead. But she wanted it to be me, and most of our supporters agreed.”

Hanyu burst out without meaning to, “Of course they did! You’re wonderful!”

Antony flinched. His slender fingers knotted together, and Hanyu was sure that the gesture was meant to conceal trembling.

“The consort didn’t think so,” he muttered. “Somehow, she found out about me and Valerius. She sent some of her goons to kidnap him and torture him for information about me. I think she planned to drag him before the court to tell everyone about our affair and our faction’s plans to take the crown. She held him for two whole days before I managed to find the place.”

Antony’s voice dropped to a growl, but this growl bore no resemblance to his usual harmlessly crabby tones. Hanyu had to fight not to shrink back from the remembered rage on his master’s face.

“That was the first time I ever killed people,” Antony said. “I thought later that they were only following orders and I ought to feel guilty about it, but I never did. I was just glad that I was able to get him out. My rescue mission almost killed me, but he was in even worse shape. Once we were back safe with my mother and our bodies had recovered… he forgave me. I still can’t quite believe that. All he’d been through because of me while I wasted my time on useless searches, and he still forgave me.”

The god’s eyes were distant as he went on. “He was so much better than I deserved, and I knew I could never let anything like that happen to him again. I realized I couldn’t bear to lose him. And, lucky us, I thought I knew how to keep him safe. I thought I was so fucking clever.”

Antony gave a ragged sigh and stared down into his hands, his face twisted in a way that made Hanyu forget his earlier fear in a sudden rush of longing to cross the bed and take him in his arms. He gripped the sheets and restrained the urge, forcing himself to wait quietly for the god to speak.

When it came, Antony’s voice was barely even a whisper. “We got married.”

Married? 

Chapter Text

HANYU’S POV

Hanyu could only gape at his master.

“Married?” he squeaked. “You were married?”

When Antony’s voice came, it sounded strangely young and vulnerable. “I was, however briefly, and it was wonderful. Our wedding day was one of my happiest. Theodora performed the ceremony- she was lord of her own estates, so she had the authority.”

Hanyu remembered Kenta’s story about Lord Theodora marrying Chujiro to his lover. How many marriages had she performed? Did they always remind her of Antony and Valerius?

“It was a small, rushed wedding, but there were enough witnesses that no one could dispute that it had happened, or else I think my father might have tried to cover it up,” Antony continued, running his thumb under one of his fingers over and over again. “The idea of a royal using a human for sex was considered crass, but feasible, but marriage was unthinkable… so much so that it had never been officially outlawed. Theodora saw to it that Valerius was legally registered as the husband of a prince and member of the royal family, and we thought it would be enough to protect him from any further interference.”

Antony, lord of the gods, married to a human. Yes, he hadn’t quite been a god yet, but the thought was still staggering. Hanyu wondered dizzily what the priests would have made of it. There were stories of gods favoring humans, of course, and large portions of his training had been devoted to learning how to court that favor. But to marry one, like an equal? 

His master was still speaking. “It put an end to my bid for the throne, of course, but that didn’t matter to me. Not compared to him. I thought my father would protect us and we would be allowed to move to the country and live quietly, and the horrible thing is that it might have worked. Father was furious, but he was leaving us alone. But I just had to keep pushing. I gave Valerius my signet for a wedding ring, which granted him ownership of all my possessions and the power to sign documents in my name. It made sense at the time. He was a hundred times smarter than me.”

Antony’s tone turned soft and wistful again. “Kinder, too. I thought of him at once when you told me about Kenta and the worms. His first birthday after we met, Valerius asked me for this puppy that grew into the biggest dog I ever saw in my life, horribly spoiled, and then she whelped and he couldn’t bear to send any of the puppies off to be hunting dogs, so they just lived with him and my mother. And the hair on their clothes and furniture, you wouldn’t believe... but that’s not what we’re talking about right now, is it?”

Hanyu wished it were. He wished Antony would keep talking about his mother and Valerius and their courtyard full of dogs. He didn’t think he wanted to hear the rest of the story.

“I didn’t see the king after word spread about my signet ring. We holed up in my mother’s rooms while I had a house built for us on some land I owned far from the castle. I wanted everything to be perfect for my husband. Kennels for his damn dogs, though I knew they’d all end up in the house no matter what, a huge greenhouse so he could cultivate all the plants he wanted, a room full of windows so I could paint him a hundred times. We joked about adopting a horde of children, humans and elves both, and letting them run wild in the forest and bringing them to visit their aunt King Claudia with sticks and leaves still in their hair.”

Somehow, that was even more alarming than the idea of Antony having been married. The god had wanted children?

Hanyu had never known anybody who even had the option of having children before. The priests were only allowed relationships with one another, and were sworn not to father children so that they could raise the offerings as their sons. The offerings themselves were permitted no family ties at all. The idea of somebody Hanyu knew personally planning to have children was so… exotic. What did that even feel like?

Antony’s voice turned dark, and Hanyu forced his mind back to the story. “Then one night, when we’d been married about three months and the house was almost ready for us to move into… well, we still don’t know exactly how it happened.”

Oh no. Hanyu braced himself. This was the bad part, the part he didn’t want to hear.

“What we do know is that the curse was far too powerful to have been placed without the Royal Wizards, which means they had the king’s permission,” Antony snarled. “There were thirty of those wizards, and their magic was bound to his orders. So we know the curse was set by them and permitted by the king. What we don’t know is why they chose such an extreme curse. Someone had a real sense of humor about things.”

Antony’s lips twisted into a facsimile of a smile, but he certainly wasn’t laughing. Hanyu was torn between wishing he would stop and wishing he would just get it over with and explain what had happened. All this talk about wizards and consorts was interesting enough, but Hanyu really only cared to hear what had happened to Antony and Valerius.

His master went on. “Whoever it was, my stepmother or half-sister or anyone else, they made the wizards design an incredibly elaborate curse based on a spook-story the humans had back home. There were supposed to be these things called vampires, you see, and they were dead but still moving. They drank blood, turned to ashes in the sunlight, all of that. It must have been intended as a sick joke. I was meant to be cursed to become a human monster, kill my human husband, then probably be executed as a warning to anyone else who would think about intermarrying. At least that much, my father agreed to.”

There was so much hurt and anger in the god’s voice that Hanyu was surprised he didn’t choke on it. He wondered anew what it must be like to have a father. What kind of power must this man have held over Antony, that the betrayal still galled him a thousand years later?

His master took a breath and when he started again, his tone was steadier. “But they got too ambitious. They must have worded the curse so that it would also strike all my ‘followers’ or ‘allies’ or something similar. No doubt the casters intended to get rid of Claudia and Titus as well, and probably Theo. She had rich lands, no heir, and wasn’t terribly popular at court. However, the king most likely wouldn’t have agreed to include them in the curse explicitly. As far as he was concerned, they hadn’t done anything to embarrass him. So the caster used vaguer wording, hoping it would be enough to get rid of my family and maybe a dozen other upstarts.”

Hanyu had a thousand questions, but he didn’t dare ask any of them. This raw, agonizing honesty felt like such a fragile thing. If he did anything to disrupt the flow of the god’s words, he was afraid he would never hear the end of the story.

“That was their big mistake,” Antony continued, with a smile that reminded Hanyu a little of the picture of the wolf. “They didn’t realize how large our faction was. There were over a hundred of us, at least as far as we know. More had joined after I married Valerius- of course I wasn’t the only elf who had fallen in love with a human or questioned their treatment. Anyhow, the strain of casting a spell of that magnitude must have killed the wizards. I think that was why we were able to escape.”

None of this made sense to Hanyu. All the talk of spells and wizards was fascinating, but so far outside his experience compared to the story of Antony and his star-crossed love. He was still afraid to speak, but he had to know the most important thing.

“And… Valerius?” he ventured in a whisper.

Antony looked at a spot just over Hanyu’s shoulder, refusing to meet his eyes. “The curse didn’t extend to humans. It didn’t touch him, but I did. When we were newly turned, we were… feral. Just animals. Human blood keeps us alive, but it isn’t enough to give us our minds back. It has to be elves.”

He was speaking in present tense. What did that mean? Hanyu filed the question away with the hundred others that this story had roused and forced himself to listen quietly.

“We were still staying with Mother, so I went to sleep one night in my husband’s arms and woke up with my mother’s corpse in mine.” Antony’s voice had gone thick, but his face was set in a glare. “My teeth were still in her throat, and the dogs were all snarling and cowering away from me. I went running, calling for Valerius, and… I found him in our bedroom. Apparently I had taken him first, then Mother.”

Hanyu realized he was crying, and he was glad of that, because Antony wasn’t shedding so much as a single tear even though his voice was practically choking and his hands were shaking. Hanyu felt that the least he could do in the face of this pain was cry in his master’s stead.

“The others came stumbling out into the palace complex and started finding each other. Most had killed a servant or neighbor and recovered themselves, but some had taken a sibling, a lover, a child… Titus had drained his best friend. Claudia and Theodora had been together that night and when they came back to themselves they were still together and drinking from Theo’s lady-in-waiting, this sweet younger girl that Theo treated like a little sister and left out of all our schemes because she wanted to keep her safe. The same way we’d left our mother out of it.”

It was strange to think that if it hadn’t been for that decision, Antony would have had a mother. Hanyu had never known anyone with a mother. On the one hand, the gentle woman Antony had described didn’t seem like she would have enjoyed a life of fighting and sailing, so perhaps it was for the best that she hadn’t been caught up in her children’s fate. On the other hand, Hanyu felt that he would have liked to meet her. 

“As for Theo’s little maid…” Antony grimaced. “Claudia said that when they came to their senses, they both had their fangs in her throat, so close their noses were touching. I think that’s why Theo came with me. Claudia still loves her, but I don’t know if Theo can stand to see my sister anymore after that moment.”

Hanyu wouldn’t have thought his heart could feel any more pity than it already did, but at this his tears redoubled. Poor Lord Theodora, so gentle with all her offerings. No one deserved to endure that kind of moment, but she deserved it even less than most.

“Claudia was the one who began figuring things out and gathering everyone together, of course,” Antony went on. “She realized almost at once that our magic wasn’t working anymore, but she took a guard who had come to investigate the commotion and made her send messages to all our supporters. She gave everyone directions, quiet hallways and unguarded courtyards they could traverse to get to the docks. She had had a ship prepared in case we ever needed to flee, though she hadn’t expected it would be like this.”

No, Hanyu was fairly sure that even the famously cunning Lord Claudia could not have anticipated such a strange, cruel outcome. He swallowed down all his questions about the nature of these messages that would be able to reach people amidst such fear and chaos. This elf magic must have been an amazing force. No wonder his master regretted its loss.

Antony fingered the end of his braid, still refusing to meet Hanyu’s eyes. “The alarm was still raised almost at once, of course. Lots of us had to fight our way free, and plenty never made it to the docks. I didn’t even try, to be honest. I heard all her messages and directions, of course, but I ignored them. I think I would have just stayed there holding Valerius until they came to kill me. When Claudia realized what I was doing, she sent Thaddeus after me, of all people. If you can believe it, Thad picked me up and hoisted me over his shoulder and carried me to the docks, and he fucking cried and apologized the whole way. He’d just killed his sister, so… neither of us was at our best right then.”

It was another image that Hanyu wished he could drive from his mind. Gentle Lord Thaddeus, bloody and shaking from his own transformation, weeping apologies as Antony sobbed and wailed into his soft back. Antony screaming, as if that would be enough to drive the taste of his husband’s and mother’s lifeblood from his mouth. How did all the gods manage to walk around and live their lives after so much pain and horror?

His master’s voice was deliberately flat and featureless as he said, “So we drifted around for a while. There didn’t seem to be much point in landing anywhere once we realized that sunlight hurt us and we could only eat blood. We were crammed in that boat like fingers in a fist, but luckily, my loving father sent his soldiers on more ships to kill us. That didn’t end well for them. I don’t think the casters had intended the curse to make us so resilient, but that was the way the magic interpreted their requirement that we be ‘living dead.’ They had underestimated their own fucking spell.”

Hanyu was struck by the thought of what could have happened in that barely-imaginable place if the gods had chosen vengeance rather than flight. Even if the wizards hadn’t realized the magnitude of the spell they were casting! It had been incredibly reckless to take even the slightest risk of unleashing and angering that kind of power. Yes, the gods would probably have been overwhelmed by the elves’ numbers, but what if they had been so mad with grief they’d chosen to go out in a fury of suicidal carnage?

Antony went on. “We were still as strong and fast as any other elves- moreso, in fact- and now we were very difficult to kill, so all my father’s efforts accomplished was allowing us to spread out to three ships instead of one. But we had to pace ourselves and keep from killing the handful of soldiers we had managed to take prisoner, so we were half-feral and… hungry. We were so hungry all the time, and half of us had broken hearts, and I think you wouldn’t have been very impressed by us had you met us then.”

Hanyu didn’t care how impressive they were or weren’t. He just wanted to walk out into the ship and wrap every single god in an enormous hug.

Well. Maybe not Lord Marcus.

His master’s voice was a little strained. “It almost made it worse that they wouldn’t just come out and admit it was my fault. Titus, Claudia, Theo… all of them were so damn kind about it. I know it all happened because of my recklessness and arrogance, and they all know it too, but even now they’ve never said so. In those days, it must have been especially hard to restrain the urge. They were bad times.”

Was it possible that Lord Theodora truly held some secret resentment smouldering in her chest? Hanyu had never sensed that from her at all. She got annoyed with his master sometimes, but mostly she just seemed to love him.

Antony was still talking. “We went on floating aimlessly in our little fleet of three. It was... well, I don't suppose you've ever experienced the kind of hunger that comes from several months on sustained starvation rations. I certainly hadn't before then.”

Hanyu had never gone without a single meal in his life, except when he was sick. Once again, Antony was speaking about things entirely outside his range of experience. However, the look on the god’s face and the way his hand moved, seemingly unconsciously, to cover his belly spoke volumes.

“We don't need to eat every day to be comfortable, as you've seen, but after three weeks with nothing at all?” Antony shook his head. “Your body starts to feel light and loose around you, your hands shake, and you lose your vision if you stand up too quickly. Your teeth… it’s hard to describe. They feel hollow and ready to fall out. I don't know why we experience the physical feeling of hunger even though our bodies are so different now. I'm inclined to think it was explicitly layered into the curse just to be nasty. Anyhow, that’s what happened after three weeks.”

“What about after four?” Hanyu whispered, fascinated against his will.

Antony kept his eyes fixed on the wall. “We were afraid to go past four, not because we thought we’d die but because we thought we might lose our minds. You start obsessing. All you can think about is food. You can't really concentrate on anything else. I was almost grateful for it at the time… sustained thought wasn’t exactly something I was enjoying… but I didn’t want to go mad, so at the four-week mark I took a mouthful, every time.”

The god was carefully not mentioning the prisoners from whom they’d taken these tiny rations, but Hanyu guessed there was a whole other layer of misery there. They must have known some of the soldiers. Even if not, they were their own countrymen, sent to slaughter them for the crime of having been cursed. It must have been appalling to realize that they were now the only available source of food.

Despite his instinctive ire towards anyone who had planned to kill Antony, Hanyu felt a twinge of sympathy for the soldiers as well. It must have been terrible to be held prisoner by popular young royals and nobles, suddenly transformed into something new and strange. Those months must have been terrible for everyone involved.

Antony’s voice was still level, but a little hoarse as he continued. “To make matters even worse, the ships were bursting with food. The soldiers had all had rations, and of course Claudia had laid in provisions on the ship she'd readied. So we were starving to death while surrounded by sacks of dried fruit and barrels of apples, potatoes, onions, the real, solid foods we still fantasized about when we dreamed. Every time we bit in, though, it tasted like ashes. And if we still managed to swallow, we’d vomit it right up again. The same thing happened with blood from the thousands of fish we could see teeming around us. It was torture.”

I am never letting you go hungry again, Hanyu vowed silently. You will drink from me every other day, regular as the tide. I’ll get Lord Theodora to make you do it if I have to.

“Felix taught us all the tricks he'd learned as a child to help ignore the hunger pangs during bad harvests,” the god went on, sending Hanyu’s mind down more new, astonishing paths, “but after seven or eight months, the only thing that really worked anymore was sleeping. We slept a lot those days, when the pangs would let us.”

Antony sighed, ran his hand over the top of his head, and flinched. For the first time in this entire retelling, he met Hanyu’s eyes squarely. His gaze was heavy and haunted, but strangely challenging.

This is the part that he thinks will drive me away, Hanyu realized with a nervous jolt down his spine.

“So, the way we handled things with your ancestors... I don't really have any excuse except that we were hungry,” Antony said, “and that sounds like a ridiculous reason unless you've ever been in a position where you make major life decisions based on food. It might not be a very noble or intellectually compelling motivator, but it’s a powerful one. By the time we met the Tacians, we were desperate, and that’s the only explanation I can give for what happened next.”

Chapter Text

HANYU’S POV

“One night, when we were farther than any of our maps had gone, this asshole of a sea monster popped out of nowhere and started battering our ships.” Antony rapped his knuckles on the wall behind him. “They’re made of enchantments and defenses almost as much as wood, which is how they’ve lasted so long, but why push our luck? We fought it and killed it.”

He said it casually, but Hanyu perked up. He thought that they might be coming to the part of the story he knew.

“What we didn’t know was that there was an island not far away. When we spotted it and landed there the next night, it turned out that fishermen had seen the whole thing. We didn’t speak the language, but they managed to make us understand that the monster had been terrorizing them for years and they were thrilled to have it gone. They were impressed with our strength and speed and dark skin and everything, and they had come to the conclusion that we were something supernatural.”

Hanyu would have said ‘immediately understood’ rather than ‘come to the conclusion,’ but he had done an excellent job of restraining his desire to interrupt and didn’t care to start now.

Antony pursed his lips. “Claudia got a funny look on her face and told everyone to play along and she would meet with the tribal elders. That night, off we went to attack a neighboring tribe and get them away from some contested land. Within a week, it was all set into motion. The Tacian tribe was sitting on the best farmland the coast had to offer, we were gods, and we had our first batch of offerings.”

That wasn’t exactly how they told the story in The Arrival of the Gods or The Rout of the Great Serpent or The Establishment of Tacia or any of Hanyu’s other favorite ballads or lays about the founding of the nation, but he supposed it was close enough.

“It was easy enough to rationalize, under the circumstances. At first they gave us prisoners who were condemned to death. My first offering, I came to understand as we picked up more of the language, was a murderer who had killed his own wife and children.”

Prisoners? The thought irritated Hanyu. The ancient kings had dared to give the gods prisoners? Yes, he had been a slave all his life, but he had been raised and educated with more care than most nobles’ children. It offended his dignity to think that the honor of serving his master as he did had once been given to prisoners. Murderers, even! He let out a little huff, but Antony didn’t seem to notice.

“So we all told each other that really, this wasn't so bad,” the god said. “We weren't killing them outright or on purpose, though of course there were... accidents. Feeding us didn't seem like such an awful alternative to execution. When a few months passed and they started handing over slaves as well, it was an easy enough step. We all told each other that even if we took their blood, we would be kinder to them than their old masters, and it would be all right.”

As one of the slaves in question, Hanyu felt that that had been exactly his experience. Kenta’s, too, though he was beginning to have his doubts about whether Asao was better off here than he had been in the temple.

“It went on like that for a while,” Antony said, tracing indistinguishable shapes in the bedspread with his fingertip and avoiding Hanyu’s gaze. “At first we thought we would stay in Tacia forever. We learned the language and defended the borders. It started to feel like we might be able to have some kind of life after all. But before too long, we realized that we still needed to drink elf blood once a year to keep from going mad. Something else would have to be done.”

What would it have been like if the gods had stayed in Tacia as they had originally intended? Would there still have been a human king, or would they have ruled the city directly? Would Antony still have found Hanyu and chosen him?

It was hard to imagine the city without its king. The royal line had endured for hundreds of years. Anyhow, as far as Hanyu knew, the gods didn’t generally involve themselves in human politics. The king provided the offerings and asked the gods’ aid when the borders were in danger. Perhaps the only difference would be that it would all happen within the city walls, and Hanyu wouldn’t have even a chance of getting to see other lands or strange beasts.

His master was still speaking. “We established the Temple once it was clear we would have to return to our seafaring ways and come back for offerings intermittently, and that was harder to agree to, but someone... hmmm, I think it was Marcus, now that I look back... pointed out that it would be better to have offerings who were raised for the journey and had no close ties than to carry people off from their homes and families. So in the end, we agreed to that, too. I’m beginning to wonder whether that was the right decision.”

Hanyu tried not to flinch. Had he truly done so poorly that he’d made Antony question the institution that had brought them together in the first place? Was Hanyu’s incompetence endangering the traditions of an age?

“We set off and began our routines of battling elven ships and sea monsters,” the god continued. “I made friends with all my offerings, or at least we got along well enough. I didn’t expect to outlive them by too wide a margin.”

Hanyu goggled at him, confused, and he shrugged even though he hadn’t lifted his eyes to see the movement.

“How would we have known?” the god asked. “By then we were starting to understand that our aging wasn’t proceeding like it should, but it wasn’t until we’d been floating around with no changes for about two hundred years that we started to whisper about immortality. The way it seems to work is that our bodies are frozen the way they were the night of the curse. If we cut our hair, it grows back to the exact same length and not a finger’s breadth more. Cloelia gives herself new tattoos from time to time, but they bleed out in a few hours. Any little scratches or calluses we had that night, we have forever, but nothing new leaves a mark.”

Did that mean that all Antony’s scars had come from before their godhood, before they fought armies and sea monsters? Hanyu barely managed to close his teeth over the question.

“I was a little afraid to experiment with my new body,” his master said. “I didn’t want an answer one way or the other. But then, about four hundred years in, I got an offering who thought it was all just fascinating and wanted to dissect me.”

He reached for the third portrait, the one of the man with feeding scars and a mischievous smirk.

“Their name was Sana,” Antony said.

Hanyu knew that plenty of the gods were genderless and called ‘they,’ like Lord Iovita who Antony had just been trying to convince him to live with, as were many of the Tacian people outside the temple. Still, he’d never met an offering who would dare to refer to themselves that way, given that the pact required ‘thirty flawless young men .’ This Sana must have been a very bold individual. He mentally recategorized the painting from ‘man’ to ‘person.’

Antony was still talking. “They were brilliant about bodies and biology and all of that, and so they were pretty interested when they saw how mine worked. Our healer Julia ended up taking them as an apprentice, but they still lived with me. They said I needed them to look after me, which was ridiculous, because they never remembered to tidy anything. I used to clean up after them like a servant, but that was all right. By then, the ship ran smoothly and I only had to organize things when we would fight a battle.”

Hanyu was surprised to find how little the idea surprised him. He could easily imagine Antony tidying and grumbling about it, scolding halfheartedly in the wake of someone he loved.

“What were they like?” he asked, hoping to fill in the blank that his imagination held of that beloved person.

Antony smiled, soft and so sad that Hanyu almost wished he hadn’t asked. “Sana was quick. Their movements, their mind, their decisions, their tongue. Oh, they had a vicious tongue! When we fought, they could say the most horrible things. I still flinch when I recall some of them. But they were always sorry afterwards, truly sorry, and they fought ferociously to control their temper. They learned to walk away from me or take a few breaths and try to relax so they wouldn’t say anything too harsh.”

Hanyu reflected that apparently, he ought to adopt that tactic as well.

Antony’s smile widened, losing some of its melancholy. “It didn’t always work, of course, but it thrilled me to see that struggle, even when they lost it and said something cruel. I was awestruck to watch someone working so hard to be better. Not just about their temper, either. As soon as they recognized something about themselves they wanted to change, they were hypervigilant about it.”

The god chuckled, and it was almost a truly happy sound. “They weren’t as dedicated in all their pursuits as they were about self-improvement, of course. They were one of those people who are so used to being brilliant that they would try hobbies and give up if they weren’t good at them right away. That other painting in the chest was one they tried to do of me… awful, isn’t it? But bodies and medicine came to them amazingly easily. They used to get so excited when I was injured and needed stitching up that they’d jump up and down and squeal, so of course I went and fell in love with them. They loved me too, eventually, especially after I actually did let them dissect me.”

“You let them what?” Hanyu squawked, and Antony gave a self-conscious shrug.

“Just a little bit,” he muttered defensively. “As an anniversary present. Julia knew what nerves to sever so I wouldn’t feel any pain. And the way Sana’s eyes lit up and they chattered on and on about everything they’d learned afterwards… If you could have seen how happy it made them, you would have let them do it too.”

“I would not.”

“Well, it wasn’t going to do me any lasting harm.” Another shrug. “It was in the name of science and all that. Anyhow, that’s not the point of the story. We had ten years together, and… In the humans’ vampire stories back home, a vampire could turn someone else into a vampire if he drank a little of their blood and they drank a little of his. I thought that since so much of the rest of the curse was based on vampire stories, maybe… it sounds stupid now.”

Once again, Hanyu’s heart sank. Wait. Stop while it’s still nice.

“I told Sana about my theories and they wanted to try it. We thought… well, even if it didn’t work, what harm would it do? I would only take a mouthful of blood. We never thought to worry how my blood would change things. I was so fucking reckless.”

Antony spat the last words, digging his fingernails into his palms until Hanyu half-expected to see blood drip onto the coverlet.

“I gave them my blood first,” the god ground out. “They only took a mouthful, right from my arm. Then I leaned in, but almost as soon as I tasted them… it was wrong. It was all wrong. It tasted… There’s no way my blood had gotten into theirs, but for some reason… I felt like I couldn’t stop, but that’s probably just a fucking excuse. I probably could have, but I was so fucking weak and I didn’t and finally they just slumped over on me and I already knew they were dead, but I sat there shaking them and bawling until Theo heard and found me. It was stupid. Anyone could see they were dead.”

Antony almost snarled the last words, and then he went on speaking so fast that Hanyu could barely keep up.

“I killed Sana and Valerius both because I was stupid and selfish and wanted to keep them close even though anyone could see that it was better for them to be far away from something like me. I destroy every good thing I touch. You’re good, Hanyu. You’re so good that a harsh word to me is the worst thing you’ve ever done. I refuse to murder you the way I murdered them. You see why you need to go somewhere else?”

“No!”

Hanyu lunged across the bed and gathered the god’s small, stiff body against his chest. His tears dropped onto Antony’s silver head as Hanyu squeezed.

“I’m not going anywhere,” he sobbed. “You’ll have to drag me, and Lord Theodora and Lord Thaddeus won’t take me if you drag me to them. I want to be with you forever. You said I could. You promised!”

Antony’s voice was muffled by Hanyu’s chest. “That was selfish of me. I shouldn’t have-”

“You did!” Hanyu shrieked in his ear. “You swore I could stay and I will, and if you try to make me leave I’ll keep coming back again and again and you’ll have to kill me to make me stop!”

“Fuck.” Antony’s astonishment was audible even as Hanyu pressed him ever tighter to his chest. “I wouldn’t ever… calm down, Hanyu. There’s no need for anything drastic.”

“I’m not being drastic, I’m telling you what would happen if you tried to make me leave!”

Hanyu wasn’t entirely sure that was true. If Antony sent him away because he wanted him gone, he would go in a flood of tears, but he would obey. For his god to send him away like this, though, so he could sit alone with his pain and talk himself into believing he didn’t deserve any better… the thought was unendurable. Hanyu probably wouldn’t manage to be quite as tenacious as he was promising if it came down to it, but in the moment, he felt wild enough that it didn’t seem impossible.

“I’m staying,” he told his master severely, though still through his tears.

Antony’s body finally relaxed against his. The god’s stiff shoulders softened, his neck bent, and he allowed Hanyu to mold their forms against each other.

“All right,” Antony whispered. “You’re staying.”

Chapter Text

ANTONY’S POV

Antony was shy after telling Hanyu his story. He felt he’d maintained an admirable level of control in his recounting- he’d left his feelings out of it as much as possible, though he’d slipped up by telling about his and Valerius’ dreams for their future or Sana’s glee over the anniversary dissection. He’d given too many details about both his former loves, in fact. But still, he’d kept mostly to a recital of events.

Unfortunately, the fact that he hadn’t described his feelings didn’t keep him from remembering them. This was why he didn’t fucking think about all that. What was the point? The sob story hadn’t even persuaded Hanyu to leave, so it had just been a futile exercise in misery.

He wanted to go to Marcus again, but Hanyu was being so clingy he doubted he’d be able to pry himself away. He probably shouldn’t take another beating when he hadn’t fully replenished his blood supply from the first anyhow.

Moreover, he didn’t want to deal with the contempt he was sure to see on his lover’s face. Marcus hated it when Antony let himself get carried away with all those foolish old feelings. By now, he could supply the scornful words himself, Marcus’ exact intonations rattling around in his own head.

“It’s been hundreds of years. You’ve had more time to get over this than anyone else in history.”

“You were always going to outlive them, and your mother, too. What’s fifty years more or less to us?”

“You need to learn to take some responsibility for the way you feel. You can’t just keep wallowing in the same stupid problems forever.”

They were all true, but it never helped.

He couldn’t stop missing them. It would catch him at odd moments, little flashes of memory that gutted him even after all these years. His mother sitting with Theo, who adored the older woman because she always spoke frankly and never used metaphors or figures of speech, making it so easy for Theo to understand her. The perpetual half-moons of dirt under Valerius’ nails. Sana’s quick, clever smile and dizzying kisses.

Antony was so pathetic. He was never strong enough to push the pain away forever. He’d been doing well for a while… he’d found a routine that allowed him to avoid the memories, whiling away his time in books and music and sex and a dozen other hobbies, but lately it had all been turned upside down.

It was because of Hanyu. He knew that. The boy had ruined all his carefully constructed habits and opened his old wounds. He’d made Antony question the most important aspect of his hard-won peace, his distance from the humans who lived with him. He’d introduced strain to Antony’s relationship with Marcus, the relationship that was supposed to be the one thing he could depend on as he faced down eternity. For all this, Antony should have hated the brat.

But he didn’t. He couldn’t. All Hanyu had done was be himself and adore Antony. The sins turning that innocent affection into a torment weren’t his fault. As such, Antony wrestled down his nerves and gave up on getting away from his offering today. It wasn’t the boy’s fault that at the moment his presence felt like fingernails on a sunburn, or at least what Antony remembered it feeling like.

“All right,” Antony said. “Let me do your hair. I’m going to draw you.”

Hanyu squealed delightedly and almost skipped out to the couch, where he grabbed a pillow and plopped down on top of it. Damn. Antony had let this turn into a ritual, hadn’t he? He wasn’t very good at ensuring that he didn’t become attached.

At least this way he didn’t have to look at Hanyu’s face. That eased his claustrophobia a little. Later, when he drew the boy, the paper would act as a barrier and he wouldn’t have to worry about making the right facial expressions or coming up with something to say in the wake of having said so much. Yes. This evening could be endured, as long as he planned their activities carefully.

He grabbed a handful of hairpins and the brush, then sat behind the boy and handed him the pins. “Here. Pick what you want.”

Hanyu sorted through the glittering pile as best he could without moving his head. Antony was hardly surprised when he chose an especially sparkly one with a bird on it.

After a moment of silence, Hanyu spoke. “May I ask you something, my lord?”

‘My lord’ in private? Antony must have really frightened his offering with his suggestion that Hanyu leave, or his grisly life story, or both.

He separated a golden lock from its fellows. “Yes.”

Hanyu held up another hairpin, this one fashioned to look like a row of flowers. “Why do you have all of these? You just wear the same plain braid every day.”

Antony shrugged. “I used to style my hair differently, and I’m sure I will again sometime. I just haven’t bothered lately.”

‘Lately’ being ‘for at least five hundred years,’ now that he thought about it, but Hanyu didn’t need to know that.

“Can I fix your hair when you’re done with mine?” Hanyu asked.

“Why? Nobody’s drawing a picture of me.”

Even though Antony couldn’t see the boy’s face, he could read the pout in the set of Hanyu’s shoulders. “It’s just so pretty, it shouldn’t be in that same braid all the time!”

Antony was opening his mouth to complain that it was his hair and so it should be however the hell he wanted it to be when it occurred to him that he hadn’t exactly asked if Hanyu wanted his hair styled. Anyhow, it wouldn’t hurt anything. He owed his offering some indulgence.

“All right, fine,” he growled, and then had to start his own hairstyling efforts over again when Hanyu’s joyous bouncing disrupted his work.

“Thank you! This will be so much fun! You’ll see, I’m good at fixing hair! Asao and I-”

Hanyu cut himself off, wilting. Antony started over in silence. He wished he knew what to say to make the boy feel better, but he was wary of mentioning Asao at all in case it sent Hanyu into another fury.

In truth, he didn’t have anything against Asao. Every time he moved his arms, half a dozen neat wounds sliced into his shoulders and biceps screamed a reminder that Marcus could be rough. How was a fragile human supposed to hold onto his secrets in defiance of that power, even to protect a friend? Asao was only doing what he had to do to survive, and Antony knew a thing or two about doing what one would rather not in the name of survival. Repeating every word from Hanyu’s mouth was far less morally objectionable than surviving by enslaving and feeding from people. Antony was in no position to judge the man.

“He lets you fix his hair?” he ventured at last.

Hanyu’s shoulders stayed slumped. “He used to. My lord.”

Accustomed to honorifics since he was a child, Antony never would have thought that he could miss the sound of his name so badly. He cast about for something to say that would cheer his offering up.

“He’s got lovely hair,” he tried, though in truth he hadn’t really noticed one way or the other. “Almost as pretty as yours.”

Hanyu didn’t even react to the compliment, and Antony was annoyed to realize that he was panicky about that. Two months ago, he would have laughed at anyone who told him that he would work himself into a frenzy because a human was sad and he felt responsible. Now he could barely manage to concentrate long enough to sweep Hanyu’s hair into a twist and fix it with the pin.

“There,” he said. “Now if you’ll just sit down on the sofa, I’ll get my pencils and-”

Hanyu whirled around, tripping himself on his robes. “What about your hair? You said I could!”

“But you’re sad now!” Antony argued. “I thought-”

The boy shrugged, his face rueful. “Well, yes, a little. But fixing your hair will cheer me up!”

Antony handed over the comb and rolled his eyes. “Fine. I wasn’t trying to get out of it, I just wanted to be considerate.”

It sounded like a joke. Antony, considerate? Antony, who had traumatized one attendant after another, who had left Theo to bear her sorrows alone, who had reduced Hanyu to sobs of terror more times than he cared to think of? Not likely.

Antony plunked down on the pillow as soon as Hanyu vacated it. It was still warm from his offering’s body, which sent an inexplicable jolt of pleasure through him. He must have been missing heat more than he thought.

Hanyu settled on the sofa and Antony tried to relax against his knees the way the boy always did when their positions were reversed. He couldn’t quite manage it, though.

Antony hated that Hanyu knew about everything. His offering’s gaze felt like ants crawling over the back of his neck now that there was so much knowledge behind it. He wanted simultaneously to spend every minute with Hanyu, distracting him so he couldn’t think about anything he’d learned today, and to run away and never see the boy again.

That was the worst thing about living on ships. He had nowhere to run.

Hanyu plucked up his braid and undid the band that held it. His fingers worked gently at the strands until Antony’s hair hung over his shoulders and his scalp tingled pleasantly. Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad…

“Antony!” Hanyu’s voice was so alarmed that Antony didn’t even have a moment to be pleased at the reappearance of his name. “What happened?”

Antony twisted to peer up at his stricken face. “What are you talking about, boy?”

“Your head!” Hanyu gestured, wide-eyed. “That huge sore! What happened?”

Oh.

Antony had forgotten about the handful of hair Marcus had ripped out yesterday. The wound would be smaller by this point, but still alarming. He wished now he’d taken more blood from Hanyu to speed the healing process.

He thought fast. “It’s fine. I told you I hurt myself last night, remember? I fell and hit my head on the edge of a door.”

Hanyu tore his gaze away from Antony’s scalp and met his eyes, blinking. “Oh.”

Antony’s gut twisted a little at his unquestioning belief. The lie was painfully obvious, but Hanyu had swallowed it anyway. Was it possible that the boy still trusted him? Why?

And why had he lied? He could have just explained that it had been rough sex, the way he had before. But Hanyu had been so troubled the last time… and anyhow, that would be one vulnerability too many. Now that he had exposed his deepest metaphorical wounds, it simply wasn’t possible to go into much detail about the literal ones.

“I’m not going to do anything to your hair,” Hanyu announced, pulling Antony out of his thoughts. “That looks much too sore! Didn’t it hurt when you made your braid?”

Antony shrugged. “Well, yes. But how else was I going to cover it up? No sense making everyone look at that mess. These are the sorts of things we short people have to think about, you know. If you had a wound on top of your head you wouldn’t have to worry about anyone but the stars getting a look.”

It worked. Hanyu giggled, and as soon as he heard the boy’s laughter Antony found himself relaxing, just a little.

“I’m not that tall.” Hanyu smoothed Antony’s hair with a light, reverent hand. “Anyhow, you would see it when I knelt.”

Antony sat for a moment and let himself be petted. It felt… well, Hanyu’s large, warm hands were so careful on him, as though Antony were the one in danger of being hurt. It should have been nice. At the very least, there was no reason for it to feel awful.

But it did. Antony felt like he couldn’t get a lungful of air, which was a ridiculous thing to panic over when he didn’t need air. He felt crowded (by one person?) and deafened (by what noise?) and all he wanted was to pull away. Still, he managed to hold himself in place and submit to the reverent touches until he felt sure that Hanyu wouldn’t take it the wrong way when he moved.

“Well, if you’ve given up on making me pretty, I might as well get to work drawing you.” He rolled to his feet.

“You’re already pretty,” Hanyu said loyally, and Antony huffed a laugh.

“That’s kind of you to say. Now, I think I’d like you to read aloud while I draw. Go ahead and choose a book, but not one of the animal ones, all right? I don’t want you interrupting me to ask what everything is.”

“All right!” Hanyu scrambled for the bookshelf and, despite his longing for solitude, Antony couldn’t resist the smile that stole over his lips.

Nothing had really changed, He was still going to introduce Hanyu to Felix and Iovita, bring Thad and Cloelia around, and see if he could find the boy a better master. But for now, Hanyu was happy enough to be here, so surely there was no harm in allowing it.

Chapter Text

HANYU’S POV

Hanyu was back in the temple, for some reason, and he’d lost Antony. Lord Marcus was navigating the corridors towards him- he didn’t know how he knew that, but he did- and Hanyu couldn’t get away because the High Priest had cornered him and was making him recite lessons and show off waiting positions and dance moves. No matter how many times Hanyu tried to explain that he had already been chosen, the severe older man wouldn’t listen.

“It’s not enough to be chosen!” the High Priest snapped at him. “You must be perfectly pleasing every day, not just on the day of your selection. Have you been perfectly pleasing, Hanyu? Have you been obedient?”

Hanyu squirmed. “I’ve been obedient enough!”

“If you were obedient, you would remember the words to ‘Lord Antony Crowns King Shinji.’ Go on, recite it! If you can’t, then we’ll have to take you back. We can’t allow a subpar offering to remain with a lord of the gods.”

Hanyu was rocked by the horror of the idea. He couldn’t imagine anything worse than being dragged back to the temple. Even the thought was so stifling, it felt like being tied up.

On the ship, his world might be largely restricted to Antony’s rooms, Lord Theodora’s rooms, and the upper deck. But in each of those places, he was allowed to speak freely. He could be the center of attention sometimes, not because he was in trouble but simply because he was liked and his talents were applauded. The idea of returning to the broad halls and wide courtyards of the temple was immediately suffocating.

“Go on!” the High Priest urged.

Hanyu stammered and fumbled, words dropping out of his mind like they were greased. Lord Marcus was coming closer and closer and at any moment, the High Priest was going to give Hanyu to him, or was it Antony who was going to give him away, as he’d threatened? Either way, Hanyu was failing and he would never see his Antony again-

“Hanyu? Come on, pet, wake up.”

Hanyu was about to apologize to the priest when he realized that it was… Antony’s voice? And a hand on his shoulder, and his eyes were closed…

… and he was in bed. It had only been a dream.

Hanyu blinked drowsily up at Antony. The god stared back down at him, and perhaps the darkness deceived Hanyu’s eyes, but he would have sworn that his master looked concerned over his silly nightmare. Antony’s hair tumbled loose and tangled around his shoulders, so pale it almost seemed to glow in the darkness, which made him look even softer.

Hanyu lunged forward and pressed his face against Antony’s chest. Even through the nightshirt, the god’s chilly skin felt wonderful against his hot, teary face.

Antony stiffened, but his arm settled around Hanyu’s shoulders anyway.

“Nightmare?” he asked, and even his voice was gentler than usual.

Hanyu nodded into his chest. “Th-the High Priest was going to take me away from you.”

The god’s arm tightened around him.

“That could never happen,” Antony said firmly. “I know I scared you today, but I promise, you won’t be forced. If anyone tried to take you away from me without your consent, they wouldn’t even live long enough to realize what a bad idea that was. You’ll only leave me when you want to go.”

Hanyu shook his head, not caring how the movement smashed his nose, and clutched his master even tighter.

Never. I’ll never, never want to leave you.

“Well, then, it’s not an issue,” Antony said. “No one can take you from me, especially not that vicious pissant of a priest.”

Hanyu might ordinarily have been shocked or delighted by this description of the man who had once been the most powerful person in his world. At the moment, though, his heart didn’t have room for more than one feeling, and that feeling was happiness at being held so tightly.

He relaxed into Antony’s arms with a blissful little sigh, savoring the way the god ran his hand lightly up and down his back. The caress was so slow and rhythmic that Hanyu wondered if it might be unconscious. Just in case, he made sure to hold perfectly still so as not to disrupt his master’s movement.

Hanyu basked in Antony’s words. Not only has he agreed to keep me, he’d fight anyone who wanted to take me. The idea was thrilling. He knew he would spend many future nights lulling himself to sleep with elaborate fantasies of Antony rescuing him from armies of kidnappers. Fantasies of how he would repay his deliverer were less likely to put him to sleep, but would be equally pleasant, he was sure…

Well, Antony had spared him enough times that it was more or less the same thing. Why not repay him now?