Chapter Text
Nicolo could not remember what he was doing.
The chunks of goat sat in a thick spice dotted brown broth, bobbing as the stew burbled. Nicolo gave the food one more stir. He could not remember if he stirred it already before.
It is fine, Nicolo told himself. He covered the stew with the lid. Wait, was he supposed to leave it uncovered?
The stew smelled appetizing when Yusuf cooked it, but now, Nicolo's stomach cramped as wisps of its spices perfumed the air.
Outside, it was quiet. Hopefully, Yusuf did not take offense or perceived an insult towards Nicolo. Yusuf took offense easily when insults were hurled at Nicolo. Nicolo tried to reason with Yusuf that such slights are harmless and did not bother him. But Yusuf still held on to the strange belief Nicolo has no faults with a tenacity that both touched and exasperated Nicolo.
Nicolo tipped his head. He listened past the stew's low bubbling, but it was quiet.
...Perhaps it was too quiet?
Fearing Yusuf has slit the women's throats, after all, Nicolo glanced up to peer out the open door.
Quynh stood at the doorway, filling it with her presence despite her slight form. In her red robes, she looked like she set the door aflame.
"Tea is almost ready," Nicolo offered.
Quynh nodded. She said nothing.
Nicolo lifted the lid to reveal the pot's contents.
"The stew...the stew is nearly done as well," Nicolo added. It sounded feeble to his own ears. He grimaced and turned back to the stew in the fire.
"What you did was a horrible thing," Quynh said bluntly.
The house shrank around him.
Nicolo's shoulders hunched forward. He flexed, pushing his shoulders back and told himself he can breathe.
"Yes," Nicolo murmured. There was no reason to deny it. "It was." He lifted his eyes to meet her gaze. "But it will not happen again."
"No," Quynh said tightly, "It will not."
Nicolo's eyes dropped to the stew. A faint sensation of choking rose again. He rubbed his throat until it faded.
"I am sorry," Nicolo quietly offered.
"Apologies do nothing," Quynh bit out, "Only promises hold value in this world."
Nicolo took a deep breath. He was about to speak once more when arms wrapped around him from behind.
"A thousand apologies would not repair all you suffered," Quynh murmured to Nicolo's ear. "But will you accept a promise from us you and your Yusuf will not find yourselves trapped in such situations again?"
Quynh smelled like a flower Yusuf once showed Nicolo. It only grows in moonlight, yellow as the desert sun above them during the day, fragrant and vibrant in the crevices of broken rock among the dunes. Yusuf strangely said the flower reminded him of Nicolo. It had puzzled Nicolo. It smelled too nice to be compared to him.
The same spicy floral surrounded Nicolo. There was also a hint of the sea and a faint tang of sweat. Her arms, while slender, wrapped tight around Nicolo with strength.
"You," Nicolo rasped, "You are not disappointed?"
"Only that we were not there to castrate those who hurt you and Yusuf," Quynh grunted. "It is unfair. Yusuf had the privilege of striking down the ones responsible. For years, I imagined doing so with my arrows. Slowly."
Nicolo grimaced. Automatically, his legs twitched at the image her words conjured.
Quynh chuckled and squeezed Nicolo tighter.
"Quynh," Andromache chided by the doorway.
Quynh twisted around, turning Nicolo towards the doorway in the process.
"No." Quynh's pout was clear in her voice. She hooked her chin over Nicolo's right shoulder. Nicolo fidgeted. It felt strange to have someone other than Yusuf this close without ill intent.
"Mine," Quynh announced. "You can have the funny one. He is like you. He detests cats as well."
"I find nothing humorous about his scimitar to my back right now," Andromache said wryly.
"Yusuf?" Nicolo called out, alarmed.
"I do not hate cats," Yusuf said in reply from behind Andromache. She muttered something about them always staring at her. The clear sound of Yusuf's blade slipping back into its sheath followed. "Cats hate me!"
Yusuf slipped past Andromache, his eyes taking in Quynh and Nicolo. His only comment was an arched eyebrow. He turned back to Andromache.
"And Nicolo is funny," Yusuf declared. To Nicolo, he added, "Say something funny."
"Is this not humorous enough?" Nicolo remarked. He gestured feebly towards the arms still around him. He could only lift his arms to his elbows. "I am like a caught fish."
Yusuf waved at Nicolo.
"See?" Yusuf asked Andromache.
"Hilarious," Andromache said dryly. She considered Quynh and Nicolo. "We said we would wait before you pounce."
Quynh sniffed as she released Nicolo. "No, you said wait." She shrugged delicately. "I did not say I agree."
"Wait?" Nicolo felt like he was listening to a language he could not grasp completely.
Andromache's expression gentled, her smile both sad and proud.
"There was a conversation you dreaded all these years yet also needed to hear." Andromache gestured towards Quynh. "But she insisted she only needed to embrace you, and it would be enough."
"Oh," Nicolo said numbly. He exchanged a look with Yusuf.
"I am going to teach my Nicolo the bow," Quynh declared. "Andromache can teach your Yusuf stealth and her ax."
"My Nicolo?" Yusuf repeated. He frowned. "He is not yours, he is—"
Nicolo gave Yusuf a look.
Yusuf cleared his throat. "Ahem, yes, and this conversation?"
Andromache glanced over to Quynh.
Quynh nodded. She wrapped her arms around Nicolo's arm instead. She smirked at Yusuf's scowl.
Andromache slowly approached Nicolo. She gestured to Quynh to step away. Quynh obliged with a grumble.
"We all did things we did not want to do in the past. For all the reasons that told us we should." Andromache canted her head, studying Nicolo.
"But our past is our past," Andromache said. "The years go on and on for us. It does not linger on what has already occurred." She clasped Nicolo's shoulder.
"Nor should you, Nicolo di Genova."
Nicolo blinked hard, his eyes burning at the corners. He nodded solemnly to Andromache.
Yusuf stepped closer. He rested a palm over Nicolo's lower back.
The walls stretched around Nicolo. The air no longer felt thick in his chest.
"Besides," Andromache continued, "should one dare to harm one of us like that, do not think any of us would stand idle and do nothing. Such troubles are not just for you and Yusuf."
"I would castrate those who dare," Quynh offered, "As I did not get to before."
"And not save me any?" Andromache drawled.
"You could finish them off." Quynh gestured with her hand, imitating an ax. "I would have left them alive. I am cutting out cocks, not hearts. They would still live."
Nicolo shared a wince with Yusuf. Nicolo cleared his throat.
"Thank you for—" Nicolo tried.
"I would take no pleasure..." Andromache copied the same gesture. "They would be in so much pain; my ax would be a mercy instead."
Quynh paused, her lower lip sticking out. "You have a good point."
Yusuf coughed. "Ah yes, it is just as well it is in the past." He glanced over to Nicolo, his eyes warm. "And it will remain in the past. All is left is the years before us."
Nicolo's knuckles brushed against Yusuf's hip.
"You will not face the years without us. You are not alone," Quynh said.
"We dreamed of each other, so we can find each other." Andromache studied Yusuf before her gaze drifted to Nicolo. "It means we share each other's burden. It means if one suffers, we all suffer."
"And if one has joy," Yusuf murmured. His eyes lingered on Nicolo, his smile small and soft. "We all have joy."
Nicolo mutely nodded. And paused.
"But I was not alone. I was with Yusuf," Nicolo said.
"You were," Andromache agreed. She considered Nicolo. "But I do not think you truly believed it. Not at first. Am I wrong?"
"No," Nicolo murmured. "But I believe it now."
Yusuf's shoulder brushed against Nicolo's.
"And now you two are even less alone," Quynh added.
Nicolo's brow furrowed. "Less alone? But if we were never alone, then how are we even less..." Did he misunderstand? Quynh's Arabic was flawless. Did he mishear?
Andromache chuckled, her mouth curved as she glanced over to Quynh.
"No. Mine," Quynh huffed. "He has an archer's sharp eye. Mine to teach."
Yusuf edged closer to Nicolo. He ignored the look Nicolo tossed over once again.
"So..." Yusuf hedged, "What does this all mean?"
"It means we talk," Andromache was blunt again. However, Nicolo realized her eyes stayed kind. They were not assessing as he had feared but examining as if checking on the person's well-being before her. It was regard he was used to receiving from Yusuf, and he felt blessed for it. To have another, perhaps two, who may feel as concerned for him was...strange. But it also meant Yusuf would bask under the same warmth. Good. Yusuf deserves to be loved.
Yusuf curled his hand, warm and large, around Nicolo's. He smiled, his fingers twitching around Nicolo's hand. As if Yusuf knew what Nicolo was thinking. Of course, Yusuf knew. His thoughts were Yusuf's as is Yusuf's were his.
"And there are things to be glad of and proud of," Andromache murmured. "We should not be judged by anyone other than ourselves."
"I judge," Quynh interrupted. She shrugged. "But I see no fault or evil here. Only good." She winked at Nicolo.
Nicolo squeezed Yusuf's hand when Yusuf fidgeted next to him.
"Quynh," Andromache murmured. "Do not tease."
Quynh winked at Nicolo once more.
"I like your shirt," Quynh cooed. "It is flattering with your eyes."
Nicolo gripped Yusuf's hand tighter when he felt Yusuf twitch.
"We have many questions," Nicolo hastily spoke up before Yusuf could. "But it can wait until after a meal."
Yusuf muttered under his breath, too low even for Nicolo to catch.
"You must be hungry," Nicolo added, louder.
"Yes," Yusuf agreed begrudgingly. "We have many questions, but there is no rush. We can truly say we have nothing but time, eh?"
Nicolo wondered about the look the women shared. Before he could comment, the pot of stew behind him gurgled.
Andromache exhaled. Her shoulders seem to straighten, and she appeared taller in more ways than just her height.
"Why not bring the tea out," Andromache said. It was a suggestion, but her brisk tone hinted it was not often people ignored her. "We will talk after eating."
"Andromache," Quynh murmured. Her smirk was gone. She glanced over at Nicolo. Her smile looked pinched. Her shoulders rolled back slightly as well. She stood taller as if bracing for something.
"Later," Andromache said to Quynh, but her eyes were on Nicolo and Yusuf. "We will talk later. I am hungry, and I know this morning's meal did not appeal to you."
"Ah," Yusuf nodded towards the stew in the hearth. "Then we shall feast fine tonight. The hares are ready for the fire. Let us eat the stew while we wait for Quynh's generous gift to cook. You are in for a treat! This is my finest attempt!"
"Very well," Andromache agreed. She eyed the stew in the fire. She leaned in, flicking out another dagger out of nowhere. She dipped the dagger's tip into the broth. She tasted it. She did not flinch at the heat.
"Good, yea?" Yusuf grinned as Andromache dipped her blade into the stew again.
Andromache's mouth pressed together.
"Hm," Andromache only said. She shot Yusuf an arched eyebrow. Then, her hand cupped around Quynh's elbow, Andromache steered Quynh towards the door.
"Wait, what is that suppose to mean?" Yusuf grumbled after their departing backs.
As soon as the women stepped out, Nicolo rested his head on Yusuf's shoulder. He rubbed his nose on Yusuf's tunic. He breathed deep.
"Oh," Yusuf murmured. He slipped his arms around Nicolo. "Hello, hobi."
Nicolo shoved his nose to Yusuf's throat. He exhaled as Yusuf's beard brushed against his temples.
Yusuf said nothing. He seemed content to let Nicolo burrow into him. All these years, Yusuf let Nicolo have these quiet moments, no matter how abrupt Nicolo would turn to him, seeking them out.
"I..." Nicolo sighed. "I had faith they would not reject me—"
Yusuf's hand slid up between Nicolo's shoulders.
"Us. Reject us." Yusuf's other arm went around Nicolo's middle. "And they did not."
Nicolo nodded. He savored the heat of Yusuf sinking into his own skin.
Yusuf's fingers combed through Nicolo's hair, finding the tangles, unraveling each knot. One by one. And Nicolo slumped more into Yusuf.
"They appear to be good people," Yusuf murmured as he continued to run his fingers through Nicolo's hair. He paused. "Even Quynh."
Nicolo snorted. He patted Yusuf's chest, his fingers seeking the faint impression of the pendant. He rubbed at the shape—a talisman of their own making—and reluctantly stepped back.
"You and I," Nicolo said. It was a reminder; it was a vow.
Yusuf hummed, his eyes dark with the same promise. Those brown windows into Yusuf's soul also seemed to vow something more. It curled in Nicolo's belly and pooled liquid hot between his legs.
Food. Talk," Nicolo reminded Yusuf. He patted Yusuf's chest again.
"Very well," Yusuf relented with a sigh. "Food first."
Nicolo shook his head. "One more thing before that." He stepped back a step when Yusuf edged closer with intent.
"Oh?" Yusuf rumbled, his face flushed as his eyes dropped to Nicolo's mouth. "What is that?"
Nicolo gave the side of Yusuf's beard a light scratch. He fetched the kettle, sidestepped Yusuf's reaching and eager hand and headed for the doorway.
"After you properly spiced the stew," Nicolo said over his shoulder.
Yusuf sputtered.
Nicolo chuckled as he went to the table where Andromache and Quynh waited with knowing smirks. Nicolo found himself hurrying towards them, towards what felt like the next part of his and Yusuf's future.
The End