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Shurima was a paradise. A beautiful land covered in sun, where the sand glittered much like the water. Azir looked over his homeland, and sighed out of adoration.
He smiled and laughed to himself as he watched a small gaggle of children playing in the river that ran through the golden city. In his more private moments such as this, he wished he was a child again. That he could see the world with the innocence and ignorance of childhood, a world where he and Xerath would truly be equals.
Xerath, his beloved friend and trusted magus.
Xerath appeared years ago, as if by the magic he wove. Though he was born and raised as a slave, he quickly rose in royal rank, and now Azir could not see himself without Xerath by his side. Xerath was kind and strong; he smiled at Azir, treated him as a man and not a god as so many did, spoke to him as if a close friend instead of an advisor, with a warmth he never heard from his other advisors, let alone one a past slave. He stood proudly, didn't falter under the scrutiny of the priests and advisors that often surrounded Azir. For all they saw was a slave, Azir saw nothing but a noble and honorable man.
(Though, Azir never considered the man a slave, never considers those most of his advisors would address as slaves as such. No citizen of Shurima was a slave, in his eyes. All deserved to bask in the glory of their land as he did. He promised to free them, when he had Ascended.)
"Emperor Azir," a soft voice called. Azir almost jumped, shocked out of his thoughts, and turned with a smile to his bondsman.
"Ah, Xerath, there you are."
"You called for me?" Xerath's face was blank, but his features were soft. Tired, perhaps.
"Yes, I have a question for you," he beckoned him closer to the veranda overlooking the city. Xerath slowly approached, curiosity in his eyes. "What do you think of the woman I'm to wife?"
Xerath was quiet for a moment, contemplative. Azir watched him, expectant but patient. Xerath's face didn't change much, though a small frown appeared. Finally, he answered, "She seems like a fine woman. Are you unsatisfied?"
Straight to the point, then. Azir laughed. "Unsatisfied? No, I suppose not. She is pleasing to the eye, and she's...agreeable." He looked out towards the horizon as he spoke, guilty in his half-hearted compliments.
"And yet?" Xerath's frown stayed present. Concern. Observant as always.
Azir's face warmed, and his heart skipped a beat. "And yet," indeed, Azir could not help but think that there was another he had a fondness for, someone he would rather spend his life with.
"I must confess that I have...feelings, for another," Azir spoke carefully.
Xerath inhaled sharply through his nose, a rare expression of surprise. Azir smiled wryly. Of all the things to be surprised about... His friend bit his lower lip, as though to keep himself from asking the obvious question of who, exactly, caught the Emperor's attention.
"H––... They..." Azir's voice wavered. He cleared his throat and took a deep breath, "They are someone close to me. Treats me as an equal, true to themself, someone who deserves my complete respect."
Xerath spoke, quiet as always, "She sounds like a truly wonderful woman, to humble even the Emperor of Shurima."
Azir chuckled and said, "I suppose you could say that."
For a brief moment, Azir considered confessing his true feelings to his friend. Would Xerath turn from him in disgust? Would he reject him, as cold as his icy blue eyes? Could he return his feelings? Could Azir dare hope? In the same moment, he wondered if he could force Xerath to love him in return. He was the Emperor of Shurima. Would Xerath dare say no? Of course, Xerath would not be himself if he submitted so easily to Azir. His eyes turned from the golden city to Xerath, and his heart thudded painfully in his chest.
Though he opened his mouth to say, "It is you," all that came out was, "Truly wonderful, indeed."
Xerath bid farewell to his Emperor shortly afterwards, and Azir watched him leave. When the giant golden doors shut behind him, Azir sighed heavily and sunk to the floor. Through the railing of the veranda, he watched the children in the river chased away by a city guard, and wished he could live his life as a child, looking at what, who he wanted and taking them all for himself.