Chapter Text
I knocked softly on the door to Jon’s study, carefully balancing the two mugs in one hand to ensure the tea didn’t spill over. “Jon, it's Numair. May I come in?
“Yes, yes. Of course,” Jon answered after a moment’s hesitation. I opened the door on Jon, who sat at his desk looking disheveled. His eyes were reddened and his hair mussed as if he had hastily tried to smooth it back into place. “Numair! To what do I owe the pleasure of your company so late at night?” The smile he gave me was almost genuine.
“I hear you haven’t been sleeping. The feeling is mutual. I thought we could both not sleep together.” I walked over to Jon, and carefully set down one of the mugs of tea in front of him. He smiled gratefully as he wrapped his hands around it. It was one of my special blends, specifically formulated for sleep and relaxation. It contained no magic, of course, but I still knew enough herbology to make a potent brew without magecraft.
“You’ve been speaking with Thayet,” Jon accused me as he lifted the cup to his lips.
“Are we not allowed to be concerned about you?” I countered.
“Concerned about me? Numair, you know the position Ozorne has us in. You should be thinking about yourself.”
“I’d really rather not.” I replied, blanching, and refused everything my imagination threatened to show to me.
Jon sighed and rested his head in his hands. “I can’t ask this of you, Numair. After everything you’ve told me of Ozorne, everything he did to you. I can’t risk it–risk you.”
I returned the sigh and leaned against the desk. “You must. Ozorne has granted me a pardon, all but demanding that I attend the peace talks. The delegation would be doomed from the start if I don’t go. He has us in a crude but very effective trap,”
“I know that, Numair. Gods, I know!” he growled. The anger was not for me, of course. I knew him better than that. I allowed him his moment of rage. Finally, he collected himself and peered at me through his fingers. “I know I must ask this of you. Oh how you must hate me now.”
“No, Jon, I could never hate you,” I reassured him. “You’ve been put in an unwinnable position. We all have. We simply must do the best with what we’ve been dealt,” I pointed out.
“How can you be so gods forsaken calm about this?” he asked, shaking his head.
I took a very careful sip of my tea. “I’m not,” I replied when I was able. “I’m terrified, Jon. I don’t know if I’ve ever been this scared in my life. But I also know that I have to go. There’s too much at stake. Too much.” I took another slow sip as my emotions churned within me, and forced myself to swallow the bitter brew.
“He’s mad, Jon,” I whispered. “He’s mad, and no one knows that better than I do. I’m this delegation’s best chance at success.”
“He wants you. He’ll try to keep you,” Jon said sadly.
“I know,” I replied.
“I can’t protect you anymore. I’m so sorry, Numair. I promised you safety when I granted you sanctuary all those years ago. I’m being made into a liar.”
“I’m not incapable of protecting myself,” I said to him pointedly. “I told you, I know him. I know his weaknesses. He underestimates me and he always has. Arram was a slave to that belief, and Ozorne no doubt remembers a passive boyhood lover who hung on his every word, a boy who only barely found the willpower to rebel and escape. But now, as Numair…I’ve grown since I’ve met you, Jon. I’m not that cowering child anymore. I know my worth, and my strength. You showed me that. I can use that against him.”
“And if you’re wrong?”
“If I’m wrong? A quick death if I’m lucky, I suppose,” I told him bluntly. “If not, then a painful and prolonged torture when he finds I will not bend to his whims. He’ll amuse himself with me until I am too broken to be his toy any longer, and at that point my death will be a mercy.”
“Gods, Numair,” Jon groaned, but I continued on unrelentingly.
“I know the risks. I accept them. I very well may die, or worse. I am not ready for that, but what else am I to do? I can’t let him win. I have too much here that I love to just throw it all away in order to save myself. Tortall is my home now. I have found my family and I won’t let him take that from me. I won’t let him take that from any of us.”
Jon rose from his chair and looked at me–really looked at me–with his too blue eyes. He embraced me then, fiercely, and I returned it to him.“I know you won’t,” he assured me, still gripping me tightly. “There are very few people I trust to keep us safe as much as I trust you. I wish with all my heart you did not have to go, but–forgive me, please– part of me is relieved that you will be there. I’ve put my faith in you and you’ve yet to prove me wrong for doing so.”
I released him, and took him by his shoulders so that I could look at him as he had looked at me. “Jon, however this turns out, please know that I won’t regret a single moment. You gave me a reason to not just live, but to love the life that I have. I can never repay you for everything–” I choked on the words, and Jon blessedly cut me off before my voice could fail me completely.
“None of that,” he chided me gently, “There are no debts in friendship. All I ask is–” his own voice broke then, but he took a breath and regained himself. “--please come back to me.”
I smiled, and nodded, not trusting myself to speak just then. For so long I had been running away; away from Ozorne, from the dangers of living on the streets, even from myself. It had smothered me until I knew nothing else except how to flee. But now I had something to run towards. I had reason to keep moving forward, instead of always looking back. I’d known this for years now, and yet still the knowledge of it sometimes shocked and overwhelmed me. “It will take more than whatever Ozorne has to throw at me to keep me from returning,” I said fiercely. I was deeply, deeply afraid of returning to Carthak, yes, but now I was armed against that fear. I would do battle for my King, not because he commanded me, but because I wished it. Let Ozorne test his rage against me. Let him beat fruitlessly against the armor Tortall had made for me, and let him taste the edge of my blade forged from loyalty given out of love, and not fear or perceived obligation.
“I know, Numair. I know,” he replied. He sat himself back down, and I took the seat next to him. We sat in comfortable silence while sipping our tea. What else needed to be said that could not be conveyed just by our familiar proximity to each other? I took strength from his presence, as he no doubt took strength from mine.
Yes, let Ozorne do his worst, I thought with a smile, settling deeper into the cushions of the chair, and I will show him all the best of Tortall.