Chapter Text
A sudden rumble in the earth shook the ground beneath John's feet. He watched as the rocks around him moved on their own to create a towering figure of stone. A year ago, the sight would have left him slack-jawed in awe.
Now, he only watched curiously as the giant figure settled and a door opened in its chest.
"Wait here," said Secretary Rollands.
John watched as the Secretary, his assistant, and two agents disappeared through the doorway into the shadows.
Pacing an unhurried circuit before the rock-giant, John ignored the other agents standing guard. There were a dozen of them, but none of them were familiar.
No one from the New Jersey BPRD was here. No one from Antarctica either. Hellboy, Liz, Abe—they had left the BPRD altogether. Not even John's family had been allowed to know what was going on.
He supposed that was for the best, even if there was a part of himself that felt bereft. He had never imagined his wedding day like this.
Indeed, it didn't feel like his wedding day at all. Shortly, he was going to exchange vows with an elf he'd never met before—an elf by all accounts who would rather gut him than marry him—and move in with the elves.
If Hellboy leaped out and yelled, "Surprise! It's all a joke," right now, John wouldn't be shocked.
It wasn't a joke though, and the stakes couldn't be higher.
John tried to calm the anxious butterflies in his stomach. This was just another mission. A lifelong mission, but a mission all the same.
He made a concerted effort not to look at his watch as he wandered about, knowing every second felt stretched while he waited. He had no idea how long it was before Secretary Rollands and the others returned.
"You're up, Myers." He gestured for John to join them at the shadowed door.
Rather than allow John to enter, Rollands crossed his arms and frowned at him. "Do you have any questions?"
John had hundreds of questions, but none that Rollands could answer. "No."
"This is the culmination of months of work, Agent Myers. I trust I don't have to reiterate how important it is that this marriage succeeds."
"I know what you need," John said. The BPRD had made it very clear when they'd told him about the arranged marriage and the danger of the Golden Army. Hellboy had admitted, reluctantly, that he had been unable to defeat even one soldier in the army. No human weapon could defend against them. If the elves did unleash their army, then humanity was screwed.
Diplomacy had solved the problem millennia ago, and diplomacy had been called upon again. Diplomacy and the intervention of one of the elven gods, apparently. That was one of the topics Secretary Rollands hadn't been able to explain. John knew the stakes for the BPRD, but he knew nothing of the elven side of the equation. The only clues he had were the stipulations the elves had asked for in the treaty his imminent marriage would ratify, and that had not touched on John's particular assignment.
It wasn't the first time he had undertaken a mission blind. It wasn't ideal, but he would do his damnedest to make this work. An army of indestructible soldiers made that paramount.
Secretary Rollands continued to frown. John knew he wasn't Rollands' first choice—or even his hundredth—but John had been an acceptable candidate to the elven gods so the Secretary had to work with what he had. John wished he knew why the gods had chosen him. He hoped it wasn't because of his supposedly "pure heart".
It probably was.
"Alright. Let's go." Secretary Rollands gestured with his chin, and moved out of John's way. Rollands and the two agents entered after him, but everyone else stayed outside.
John had no idea what he expected Bethmoora to be like, but it certainly wasn't what he found. After winding his way through a maze of tunnels, the underground passage opened up abruptly to a cavern of an almost inconceivable size. That wasn't the unexpected part.
What surprised him was the decay. Massive columns of stone supported the ceiling, and it seemed like each column wore a skirt of houses and walkways: an entire town unto each. But even from a distance, John could see the structures were crumbling and dirty. A haze hung in the air, and John felt his throat itch.
Rollands slipped in front of John, not giving him a moment to take in his surroundings. The Secretary strode purposefully out onto a bridge that spanned the great expanse.
As John followed him, he saw that the walkways of the nearest cavern wall had been hastily repaired and were filled with spectators. Elves, goblins, trolls, fairies—every sundry magical being: an entire nation of peoples.
No humans anywhere though.
John turned his focus to what was in front of him. At the apex of the bridge, a platform had been set, and an impressive group of beings were assembled there. The King sat upon a temporary throne, flanked on either side by a group of menacing knights with bird-helmets. A handful of advisors lingered near the railings, and a group of high-ranking nobles was arrayed on the other side of the bridge. A tall, gangly creature in rich robes stood before an altar; John recognized him from his briefings as the Chamberlain.
John noted all of this, but his eyes zeroed in on the two elves standing near the altar. He had seen the security footage; he could identify Nuala and Nuada. The video hadn't prepared him for how beautiful they were. Nuada in particular had a predatory grace that the footage had not been able to show. Under other circumstances, John would be quite happy with his chosen husband. Nuada was handsome and exotic. His clothes fit snuggly around a strong body, and John had seen what that body could do in a fight. He was John's type, dialed up to eleven.
But seeing them was like a bucket of cold water. Everything before this—the two weeks of preparations and endless meetings detailing the political necessity of the marriage—had felt dreamlike and unreal.
Now, he could see the coldness in Nuada's eyes as his gaze fell on John. It hit John at this moment that this was really happening. He was taking part in an arranged marriage, and his future husband hated everything human.
John's stomach dropped. How could he go through with this? Marry someone who could never love him? Could never respect him?
Glancing over the edge of the bridge, John saw a sea of golden eggs far below. The Golden Army.
How could John refuse?
Uneasy, John nonetheless did not break stride as he followed Secretary Rollands to the platform. Rollands gestured John towards the altar, and then moved to stand before the King. Bowing, he said, "May I present John Myers to his Majesty?"
The King's expression was hard to read as he studied John. John did not look away, although he could feel Nuada's dark presence from where he stood only a few feet away.
John wondered what the King saw when he looked at him, and he doubted it was flattering. John had few illusions about himself. Against the splendor of the prince standing beside him, he had to seem quite disappointing.
But appearances weren't everything. He was determined to prove himself here.
The King said something in elvish. Rollands nodded, expression guarded. It frustrated John that he didn't understand. While the treaty to end the war had been months in the making, John had been selected—and informed—only two weeks ago. There had been no time to pick up the elven language
The King turned his attention to Nuada, and spoke to him next. John glanced at his husband-to-be. Nuada's jaw was set in a hard line, and he did not look happy. But his voice was steady when he said, "I am here, am I not?"
The King did not look impressed with his answer, but he merely gestured to start the ceremony.
John turned to the Chamberlain standing on the other side of the altar. Instead of candles or flowers, there was a parchment on the altar—the treaty, waiting the exchange of vows.
The Chamberlain extended his ridiculously long arms to both sides and said, "We are here to mark an historic occasion. It has been the custom of our people since the hallowed days spent beneath the shelter of Aiglin Father Tree that the strife of war and violence may be ended and healed by the marriage of former rivals. We gather together today to again uphold this cherished tradition so that we may never need fear the rise of the Golden Army again."
John glanced out of the side of his eye towards Nuada, catching his scowl.
"Nor is that the only hope that draws us here." John frowned, unsure what the Chamberlain was referring to. Unfortunately, he continued without elaborating, "But let us start here."
The Chamberlain gestured towards Nuada. "Here stands Prince Nuada, son of King Balor and Queen Boann, Silverlance of the elves, as representative of his people." The Chamberlain turned his focus to the prince. "Are you willing to enter into this union for the sake of peace and the future prosperity of your people?"
"I am." John noted he didn't sound too pleased about it, but he also didn't hesitate.
The Chamberlain ducked his head in a shallow bow, and then gestured towards John. "Here stands John Myers, son of Frank and Mary Myers, federal agent, as representative of his people." Now the Chamberlain looked at him. "Are you willing to enter into this union for the sake of peace and the future prosperity of your people?"
"I am." John only hoped that was what would actually happen.
The Chamberlain nodded to him, and looked up again at the masses. "All of you who are witness here today, have you come in good faith to set aside old grievances and look forward to a new dawn of peace?"
The answer was in too many languages and with too much noise for John to be certain, but the Chamberlain took it as assent. "Then let us proceed."
He gestured to the side, and a strange creature with what appeared to be a house for a head came forward. It was holding a wicked-looking knife in its long-fingered hand.
Turning to Nuada again, the Chamberlain said, "Do you, Nuada Silverlance, take this human, John Myers, to be your lawful and abiding husband? Do you vow to protect him from all dangers, support him in all endeavors, and provide for his well-being?"
John saw Nuada glance at him, and his expression was as far from happy as a man's could be. His voice was tight and angry when he said, "I do."
The Chamberlain was silent, and it was soon apparent he was waiting for something more. Nuada finally ground out, "I pledge my troth to this man."
Nodding in satisfaction, the Chamberlain looked to the strange house-head creature. Nuada lifted his hand, and let the creature cut his palm. Making a fist, he held out his bleeding hand so that blood dripped over the treaty.
Then Nuada stepped back without warning, and John saw how it startled the Chamberlain. The prince turned to his sister, and left John standing there alone.
Nuala raised a hand to stop him, but Nuada merely took it, pulling out a bandage from his belt. John watched the tender ministration as Nuada wrapped the cloth around Nuala's bleeding palm. He remembered now what he had read in a briefing—that the siblings were linked: one suffered the wounds of the other. That was all this was.
Nuada did not bandage his own hand, letting it drip.
Once the prince returned to the altar, the Chamberlain turned his attention to John and said, "Do you, John Myers, take Nuada Silverlance to be your lawful and abiding husband? Do you vow to be honest and steadfast in all matters of communication and decisions?"
"I do." John was a little miffed that no one thought him capable of protecting his husband in turn, but he knew better than to mention it now. "I pledge my troth to Nuada."
Having seen what just happened to Nuada, John held his hand out to the house-head creature. The knife was so sharp that he didn't feel the slice until he flexed his hand and a bright line of red appeared. Pain bloomed, but it was bearable.
John did not make a fist, but merely tipped his hand over the treaty so his blood ran onto it. Now that he looked at it, he thought it was not made of paper but maybe fabric or something else.
Stepping back, John waited to see what would happen next.
"I now pronounce you married." The Chamberlain turned his attention to the crowd and said, "Let this be the last blood spilt."
The crowd chanted in many languages, but it was clearly a repetition of the Chamberlain's words.
He continued, "Now, let us join our voices in beseeching the gods to bless this union and the peace it offers."
Again, the crowd repeated the benediction. The many words and noises echoed throughout the vast cavernous space for a moment, and then it felt like something swallowed all sound up. An eerie silence fell over the assembled. John could see those around him shifting nervously on their feet and looking around, but he heard nothing.
The Chamberlain gestured uneasily towards the prince.
For the first time, Nuada looked uncertain. Not, John thought, of what he was supposed to do. It was something else. John watched curiously as Nuada finally turned fully to him.
Nuada's expression was grave but not as hostile as before. There was a resoluteness to the set of his shoulders as he extended his bleeding hand to John.
John mirrored the action with his own bleeding hand, not sure what was needed here. Nuada took his hand, blood to blood, and directed their joined hands over the treaty.
A gentle wind blew in, so faint that John would not have noticed it save for the scent of the sea that it carried with it. He breathed deeply, feeling for the first time as if he could truly breathe down here.
Around him, a fog began to grow. It filled out the cavern floor so that John could no longer see the Golden Army. A quiet murmur began in the crowd, and it quickly grew in volume. John did not know the words, but it sounded like chanting. Something said over and over again.
There was something musical about it, but John's view of the crowd became obscured as the fog grew thicker and thicker. Soon, everything was hidden except for Nuada and the altar beside them.
John frowned in confusion. Nuada's hold remained firm, and it felt weird to hold his hand like this, their blood sticky between them.
The chanting continued, becoming eerie in a different way to the silence before as the disembodied voices seemed to float on the thick fog. John wasn't sure if he was supposed to be doing or saying anything. He took his cue from Nuada, who appeared fairly inscrutable to John.
A breeze ruffled John's hair, and he turned instinctively. John wouldn't swear it, but he thought he saw a face in the fog. Not a person indistinct in the near distance. No, a face made of fog. A giant face.
And it seemed to be smiling at him.
Another gentle ruffle, and it seemed like a hand was touching him. The foggy face regarded him steadily.
John glanced at Nuada, but the prince did not seem to see what John did.
Looking back, the face was still there, still regarding him. It reared up and then the fog seemed to slide inside John.
Yes, you are exactly what is needed, an airy voice echoed inside John's head. Do not be afraid. Believe in yourself, and all that was foretold will manifest. You will do great things, John Myers. Know that you are not alone, and I have given you what you need to succeed. I have faith in you.
The fog passed through him, and the face disappeared. John glanced at Nuada again. He found the prince looking directly at him, a look of surprise on his face. Nuada's fingers fluttered, as if he couldn't decide if he wanted to let go or not.
A sudden brightness drew John's attention to the treaty. The gentle breeze had blown it an inch off the altar, and it glowed. Before John's eyes, the blood on the fabric-paper became golden, and the fabric itself became silver. Not just in color, but in actual metal. When the treaty fell back to the table, it did so with a solid-sounding plop.
In that same instant, the fog disappeared completely. The voices stopped, as everyone looked around in wonder.
The decaying landscape from only a few minutes ago was replaced by cities of gold and silver. New bridges spanned the distances between the pillar-cities. What was broken was fixed. Statues and fountains sprung up from the ground far below. The ceiling was studded with so many gems that it seemed like there was a night sky of stars.
There was no sign of the Golden Army.
"Behold!" the Chamberlain's voice boomed out. "The Promise of Bethmoora has been fulfilled!"
A wild cheer broke out from the crowd. John could see them hugging each other with obvious relief and dancing with delight.
Their infectious joy had a smile tugging at John's mouth. For a moment, he wondered if this was the good his new marriage would cause. He didn't know what this was, exactly, but it was a lot.
The smile died, though, when Nuada suddenly pulled his hand away as if stung. John saw that their hands were healed. No sign of the bloodletting.
John looked questioningly at his new husband, but Nuada's cold expression returned.
Shoulders slumping, John felt silly for feeling rejected.
***
John had no chance to speak to his new husband until many hours later. Immediately after the exchange of vows, the proceedings had been filled with the formalities of copying the treaty for Secretary Rollands, who had made himself scarce after that, with only a warning look to John as a goodbye.
Celebrations and a feast followed as soon as he was gone, clearly more for the restoration of Bethmoora than any joy over the wedding. John found himself in the peculiar situation where he seemed completely superfluous to the events around him but he also couldn't leave.
He had never imagined being so ignored at his wedding day. It just highlighted for him what kind of marriage this was.
John bore it all with quiet acceptance, seeing immediately that today was for Nuada's people. It wouldn't do any good to make a fuss straight out of the gate. Having happy people was a good start for John's mission to bridge their worlds, he supposed. But it did make the whole wedding feel that much more surreal and unreal to him.
After the feast and speeches, massive stone giants had unrolled themselves from the depths of the cavern. Holding their hands together, they created a platform for the transit of the royal family – which now included John. The guards arrayed themselves up on the giant's arms, and the stone creature lumbered off further into the massive cavern.
John was finally alone with the royal family, including his new husband. He would've been happier about that if Nuada deigned to even look at him. As it was, the prince was standing on the other end of the giant's hands looking out at the passing scenery.
Perhaps sensing the strain, Nuala approached John with a smile. "It is an honor to have you here, John Myers. Truly. I cannot express how grateful I am—we all are—that you agreed to this marriage."
Grateful for her friendly openness, John jumped at the chance to get a few questions answered. "I admit, this is a bit strange from my perspective. Arranged marriages aren't really a thing anymore." He rubbed the back of his neck nervously. "I was only informed of all of this about two weeks ago. Honestly, I didn't even know we were enemies or at war."
"We should not have been." Nuala glanced at her brother, but his back was to them. "We made a truce with your kind centuries ago, but there was no marriage then. Perhaps, this time, with the proper ritual observed, there will be no breach of trust."
She frowned at her brother's back, and John knew her words were more for her brother than for him. None of them were so far away that he couldn't hear what they said. There was no response. John wasn't sure he wanted to step in the middle of this.
But that was where he was now, wasn't he? Right in the middle, married to the enemy.
"I certainly hope that's the case," John said, awkward. "What I was getting at was that I'm not familiar with arranged elven marriages and what is expected of me—how they're different from a normal human marriage."
Nuala smiled. "There is no difference."
John knew his expression was skeptical. "Two people who have never met and there's no difference?"
"Well, perhaps not exactly a normal marriage," Nuala agreed, "but we do not see the outcome being different. If you marry for love, then you know what is expected of you."
The King nodded, saying something in elvish. Nuala translated for him. "A marriage built despite adversity can be the bedrock of true change." Nuala smiled at that, clearly understanding more than what John could glean. "And a great love too, is that not right, your Majesty?"
John glanced at Nuada, seeing him cross his arms over his chest. But he still did not respond, and John was growing a little irritated at that.
Looking back at Nuala, he said, "I feel that I'm missing something."
"We have great hope for your union," Nuala said, nodding to her brother to include him in her meaning, "because we have seen it before. The King and Queen—our father and mother—were married under such circumstances. Their love was a light to our people, bringing lasting peace."
There was a distinct lack of the Queen here, though. John glanced again at Nuada's back, and saw the tension there. He turned his gaze to the King, and saw a faint sadness in his eyes.
John wasn't stupid. This wasn't a question to ask. Not now anyway.
Instead, he said, "Lasting peace is why I'm here."
The King replied, and Nuala's expression turned serious. Even Nuada glanced back briefly at his father, although his expression was unreadable. John was frustrated anew at his inability to understand what was said.
Turning back to John, Nuala said, "The King reminds us that the stakes of your marriage are a hundred-fold his own." She gestured out at the wall-city they were slowly passing. "All of this is possible because of your union. Should your marriage fail, then so too will the Promise of Bethmoora. The city we are seeing will once again decay to dust, and the Golden Army used to fuel it will rise once again."
"No pressure then," John muttered.
Nuala's smile turned awkward. "I am sure it will be fine. You will find the lasting love that our parents enjoyed, and our city will stand as strong as your marriage." She looked at Nuada. "Isn't that right, brother?"
Apparently unable to ignore a direct question from his sister, Nuada turned. If John was hoping he'd finally say something—anything—of substance, he was to be disappointed.
"The Royal Palace," Nuada said, pointing before them.
The rock giant carrying them headed for a truly impressive palace that seemed to be floating in the middle of the giant cavern. It was perched high atop a tall pillar of stone, like an island in the hazy mist. Bridges extended to the cavern walls and up into the ceiling of the cave where more buildings were hanging. An entire empire here underground.
There was no time to ask more questions as the giant set them down at the edge of the palace island.
Retainers who had gone ahead were there to greet them. The King and Nuala took formal farewell of John and Nuada, following a servant deeper into the palace.
A different servant directed John and Nuada to their own rooms.
John was impressed by what he found. There was a spacious parlor with a giant fireplace on one side. Couches were arranged in front of it, and a massive table with ornate chairs about it was set in an alcove near the back. The fireplace was open on two sides, warming a study reached by doors on either side of it.
The study walls were filled from floor to high ceiling with shelves of books and scrolls and strange objects. Two desks occupied opposite sides of the room, with more couches on this side of the fireplace too.
John tugged at his collar as the warmth of the fire grew uncomfortable. There were two doors leading from the study. The first one John investigated opened to a hallway leading to a dojo. The hall was lined with armor, swords, strange elvish weapons and all that was needed to maintain them.
The dojo was just an open room, lacking any padding, but it had a wooden floor instead of the polished stone everywhere else. A set of glass doors at the other end of the room opened up to the outside. John moved to a small terrace with a set of stairs on either side going down to a private courtyard, which appeared to be divided in two.
On one side was a garden with a waterfall falling into a pond and benches set amid flowers and trees—clearly a place to relax. The other side was open, and appeared to be an extension of the dojo—a place to exercise near nature.
John wandered back the way he'd come to take the other door in the study. Another hallway—this time filled with shelves and drawers for storage—led to the bedchamber. It was the same size as the dojo, making it the largest bedroom John had ever seen.
The bed was so massive there was a set of steps on one side leading up to it. There was another fireplace, not quite so big but equally warm, on one side of the room. Opposite it, there was a large door. It was currently open, and John glimpsed a bathroom the size of which was a match to this ridiculously large bedroom.
A set of window-doors opposite the bed opened up to a balcony. John wandered to it, finding it open to the cavern. Below him, he could see part of the palace and people wandering about as they explored this new home. Before him, he could see what looked like a market on the cavern wall in the distance. From the size of it, he was sure it would be quite busy once everyone had settled in.
Turning, John saw Nuada in the room. He was studying the bed, a distinct lack of expression on his face.
Squaring his shoulders, John determinedly moved to his new husband. "We should talk."
Nuada crossed his arms, but did not leave, which John took as permission to continue.
For a moment, John was at a loss what to say. If this conversation didn't go well, it didn't bode well for their future.
In the end, John decided Nuada wasn't going to appreciate pussyfooting around, and John said bluntly, "Do you believe what your sister said? That somehow, we're going to end up in love and that our marriage will be more than just a political contract? Because nothing about you so far has given me the sense that you buy into that."
Nuada tilted his head slightly, studying John. "My sister is optimistic. She always has been."
Nodding, John said, "So, what is this marriage then? Your father said that the fancy city disappears if our marriage fails. Do you want that?"
Nuada looked taken aback. "Of course not!"
"Are you sure?" John pressed. "You raised the Golden Army, but you didn't get to use it. If our marriage fails—a marriage I see no evidence you're in favor of—then you get the army back and you can try again."
Nuada's expression turned black. "Do you think me so callous as to wish to rip away this new home from my people?"
He looked very menacing just then, but John did not back down. "I have no idea what you are or are not capable of. I don't know you. Don't get offended because I'm trying to rectify that. What I do know is that you tried to unleash the Golden Army to destroy every human on earth, and I can't believe you're happy to be married to one now. None of that points to someone who is committed to this marriage."
"I vowed in blood," Nuada said, uncrossing his arms and scowling at John as if John had offered a vile insult. "I would not go back on my word."
"That's good to know," John said, meaning it. "But I would appreciate if you would say in so many words that you have no intention of raising the Golden Army again. I would like to know that there isn't some inkling in the back of your mind that might sabotage this new marriage, even if only subconsciously."
Nuada's expression darkened further, and John braced himself. Perhaps he shouldn't push, but he thought it was important to establish some ground rules right out of the gate. He was prepared to deal with the fallout.
Unexpectedly, though, the dark promise in Nuada's expression cleared. Something flickered in his eyes, before he turned his head away.
John watched Nuada walk to the balcony, leaning on the railing. "I will do what is best for my people." His words were murmured, and John moved closer to better hear.
Glancing over his shoulder at John, Nuada said, "You may think what you like, but I tried to unleash the Golden Army for the sake of my people. You don't realize how far we've fallen. How far we've. . ."
Nuada shook his head, abandoning whatever he was going to say. He straightened and turned to John. "I offered my people the solution of the Golden Army, and they rejected it. They prefer this." He flung his arm out towards the cavern. "To hide from the sun rather than fight for a place on the surface." His jaw tightened, and John could see his frustration.
But it drained away quickly, leaving Nuada looking tired. "My people would rather fade then fight. I thought, perhaps, I could rally them, but that is not what they want. I am their servant. I will do as they wish, but I will not love it. No one could ask that of me."
"Okay." John's tone was hesitant. He was touching a nerve here, but Nuada hadn't shut him down so John decided he could keep going. "I think that just illustrates my point. Your sister's Happily Ever After isn't in the cards for us, but a lot of people are depending on us to figure this out. So . . . what do we need to do to satisfy the magic sealed by our vows?"
Nuada turned away, once again leaning on the balcony railing. "I do not know what will be enough."
The way he said it, John wondered if he feared whatever they had to give would fall short. John certainly feared that. He was willing to do whatever was necessary, but there was only so much he could pretend to like a stranger like Nuada.
And much depended on how much Nuada was willing—or even able—to give.
Straightening suddenly, Nuada turned again to look at John. "And you? What would satisfy you?"
His eyes were sharp, and John felt like he was being tested. He considered his answer before saying, "You don't have to like me. I just want to be treated with respect and civility." He paused, and then amended, "And some patience would be appreciated too. I am willing to learn whatever I need to know to make this marriage work, but that will take time."
Nuada opened his mouth, but then seemed to think better of whatever he was going to say. Instead, he just nodded and then gestured with his chin towards the bed.
"It has been a long day. You should sleep."
"And you?" John had very mixed feelings about sharing a bed with an apparent enemy.
"Humans need more sleep than elves," Nuada said, turning once more to look out over the cavern, the conversation clearly over on his end.
John decided that was fine. If Nuada wasn't interested, John wouldn't push.
Moving to one of the wardrobes, John was surprised to see his clothes already neatly put away. He hung his suit coat on a hanger and loosened his tie. He did have a pair of pajamas but he hadn't worn proper nightwear in years.
Glancing at Nuada's broad back, John considered what he wanted to do. He decided that this was his home now, and he was going to sleep like he usually did. With the room as warm as it was, that meant his trusty boxers would be good enough, and Nuada could tell him different if it wasn't.
After attending to his nightly ablutions and making war on the ridiculously big blankets, John settled under a sheet. He looked over to see Nuada exactly where he'd left him.
Quietly, John sighed. He had a feeling his battles were only just beginning.
***
Nuada's keen ears could hear John's breathing even out from across the room. He was a little surprised how quickly John was able to fall asleep in such a strange place, but Nuada was glad he did. It left Nuada alone with his thoughts.
Looking out over the massive cavern, Nuada felt an answering hollowness in his chest. The cavern walls and the great pillars holding up the ceiling were colorful and busy with houses and sculptures, walkways and murals. But the space between was vast—a great dark emptiness that overwhelmed whatever cheer the buildings on the edges tried vainly to impart.
Would his people come to see what he saw? They were engrossed at the moment with the initial joy of having Bethmoora fully realized, but surely they must see that there was still a wrongness here—the same wrongness that had been here when they had first tried this so long ago.
But, maybe it was just Nuada who wasn't seeing things clearly. Everyone—a whole nation of people—saw only hope here. Nuada couldn't blind himself to the reality that he had very personal reasons for being uneasy here.
Some old and some new.
Nuada looked down at his hand, which he slowly moved through the motions of making a fist and then flexing his fingers.
There was no sign of the ritual wound inflicted during his wedding, but he swore he felt a ghost of it in his flesh. He wondered if that was normal or if it had something to do with his husband being a human.
Turning, Nuada's eyes went immediately to the bed on the other side of the room. John appeared to be sleeping peacefully. He slept on his side, the sheet pooled around his waist. Nuada could see the definition of muscle that had been hidden under his suit, the pale smoothness of his skin. John's expression was relaxed, making him look absurdly young to Nuada's ancient elven eyes. Despite his feelings towards humans, Nuada could appreciate their beauty, and John was a particularly good example of that.
It would be easier, Nuada reflected, if John exhibited more of his species' bad qualities. But Nuada had hand-fasted in blood. The innate telepathic ability all elves shared was enhanced by the willing participation in a wedding-joining and the shared open wound.
Nuada had seen all of John. He could see that he was what appeared to be—that his earnestness was not a deception or manipulation. Nuada knew that John was ill-prepared for his new role, knowing almost nothing about what he was actually agreeing to or the basics of elven society. He knew that did not matter to John, who understood that a people needed help and that his own kind were under threat. That was enough to agree to a lifelong commitment like this arranged marriage.
Nuada knew all these things about John. All of it came to him when they had touched hands. He had even heard the foggy god speak to John, when the god had spoken to no one else.
Yet, John was so ignorant. He did not know that the god had died to bring about the restoration of Bethmoora. He had heard nothing from Nuada's side of things.
It wasn't supposed to work this way. Part of the reason for the marriage was the sudden openness between former enemies. There was no hiding when blood was spilled willingly. Any attempt would be noted, and the truth of one participant's desire for peace would be known.
John had no idea of Nuada's true intentions. They were not starting as equals in this relationship.
Was this because John was human? Was the hole in his heart that all humans strove vainly to fill interfering somehow? Or was it because Nuada had kept a wall around his heart? And if so, could he honestly say it was solely because his new husband was human?
Nuada turned back, bracing himself on the railing. A feeling of impending disaster was growing inside him. He thought about what John had said before retiring. This wasn't going to be a traditional marriage, even by the standards of enemy-unions like the one that had united his parents.
The god who had spoken to John must have known that, surely? It had given its life for the sake of hope. It wouldn't do that if it thought there wasn't a real way forward, and it must have known that Nuada could never be truly happy with a human for a spouse.
What did all this mean then?
Nuada looked at the market their window faced, seeing banners unfurling as his people were already getting down to the business of living. He meant what he had said to John; he would do what his people wanted. If they wanted this darkened cave as a home, he would see it done.
But how?
That was a good question. What did the magic need from them? Nuada was sure to slip up. He couldn't pretend to be happy with a human for a spouse. Humans were empty creatures, endlessly greedy to fill up the void inside them. They were incapable of the depth and connection Nuada expected from an elf.
Perhaps, the best thing to do would be to distance himself from John. They would see each other at Court, where formality would bind Nuada's tongue, and then they would both be free to help the subjects of the kingdom in their own way.
Yes, Nuada thought this was best.
He turned, and walked briskly towards the door. But his eyes lingered on his sleeping husband as he passed, and even he couldn't say what he felt in that moment.