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They were on an island. Aurelius didn’t know where, exactly. He could ask; Elonoa’a would tell him. But for all that he had listened attentively to his new friend’s explanations of how he navigated—and how he always knew where to go, if not exactly where he was—Aurelius felt that he didn’t understand enough of his language yet for the explanation he would be given. And really, he could do with not knowing: they were somewhere in the southern part of the Wide Seas on Zunidh, outside his empire, far from any enemies and war fronts, in the company of more birds and fishes and ocean dwellers than he had ever encountered before. They hadn’t met other people in over a week.
At least Aurelius thought it might have been a week. He wasn’t keeping track very meticulously. Neither, he thought, was Elonoa’a.
They just lived. Sometimes they spoke: stories and anecdotes, at times lighthearted, at others intimate, personal, deep fears and memories thought long-buried. Sometimes they kept silent, existed in each other’s company.
Now, as the sun sank ever closer to the horizon and the animals that surrounded them changed the music of their daily lives, Aurelius and Elonoa’a sat at the beach, on an island, Elonoa’a’s boat safely towed up onto the white sands, a fire burning at their campsite as they looked out onto the tranquil sea.
Elonoa’a knew how to catch and prepare fish, how to make a fire, how to build shelter from the trees behind them and the remnants of what could be found in the surf. They wouldn’t need shelter tonight. It was warm, and the sky was clear, and the island was small.
So they sat by the fire, in silence. They had finished their meal; neither of them was tired enough yet to go to sleep.
Aurelius stole a glance at the man beside him, again, as he had all evening. All throughout this entire voyage. Elonoa’a looked as he had in the vision, his skin a bit lighter than Aurelius’ (which was true for most people who weren’t of the Imperial line; and really nowhere near the papery paleness of those who came from the further provinces on Ysthar), his hands strong, his hair falling down his back in long, curly strands, blown around his face by the incessant ocean winds. Elonoa’a named them as they sailed, gave substance to the pull Aurelius could feel in his magic, the very air calling to him, beckoning him to grasp it. For now, the winds were quiet.
Elonoa’a had a defined, kind face, thrown into stark relief by the firelight, his eyes twinkling with reflected flame for once instead of a shared joy, some natural mirth. Aurelius felt the heat of the fire on one side of his face, the cooler night air on the other. The strong contrast was an indication that maybe he had been looking for a little too long and should turn his face back before he was noticed. But then, what good would shyness do him out here?
They had been alone for most of their journey. Aurelius had known, from the moment he had seen Elonoa’a in that careful but welcoming group of his people and had recognised him from his vision, that this was special. Something new, something known and yet wholly unfamiliar and yet—comfortable. Elonoa’a would always be in his life, he knew that—could feel it all the way down to his bones, to the depth of his being, the same way he could feel where to delay to avoid an ambush, could feel the rising tide of a throng readying for battle.
Elonoa’a could leave him tomorrow, stranded on this island, and Aurelius would think of him for the rest of his days, whether he lived only two more or became immortal like the Moon and Sun.
Elonoa’a leaned forward to tend the fire; turned his head with the motion and gave Aurelius a small smile. Not a smirk, this time. Aurelius held his gaze. The moment felt precious, cupped in his hands.
”I think your leaf water is ready,” Elonoa’a said, picking up a stick to poke lightly at the clay pot set at the edge of the firewood. This brought Aurelius out of his admiring reverie.
Tea was a rare luxury in a pack of travelling rations, one he indulged in out of long habit and a need for comfort. It was, indeed, ready. Aurelius took the little clay pot he had so carefully transported across the seas and filled the steeped tea into a clay cup, just large enough that he needed both hands to hold it—large enough to hold a nice portion of soup. Elonoa’a watched this with bemusement.
Aurelius set the pot aside and picked his cup out of its safe perch in the sand. It was warming quickly; Aurelius let it. Wrapped his hands around it. Took a sip that was almost too hot. He didn’t look over again, at the person sat beside him, whose gaze he could feel on the side of his face.
It felt different to sit like this with another person present. He had unconsciously gone through the ritual: the fire, though larger than the coal brazier in his tent, the tea, the cup, the contemplation. He felt far away from this island, far away from himself. Thoughts circling. He tried to hold onto one and found that he couldn’t.
There was a touch against his hand, just enough to focus on. Aurelius looked over: Elonoa’a had set a single finger against one of his.
Aurelius couldn’t bring himself to look up, but he managed to say, ”I do this before battles.”
”You mean, when you fight?” Elonoa’a asked. ”Wage war?”
Elonoa’a was learning quickly. He had already known some few words of Shaian when Aurelius had arrived in the Vangavaye-ve, picked up from the occasional voyage, the occasional trade. Now they made efforts to learn from each other. Aurelius substituted words and sentence structures from Elonoa’a’s language whenever he could. Elonoa’a did the same, and more successfully; their conversations were a comforting blanket stitched together of all kinds of cloth, of whatever words and gestures they had available, of laughs and corrections and touch. They gave freely of each other’s languages and lives, vocabulary and grammar becoming more and more known. The two of them, to each other, becoming more and more known.
It was nice. Easy. Like an understanding all their own.
”Yes,” said Aurelius; hesitated, then decided to give this also. ”I do this to feel… settled. Before battle. It doesn’t always work. I don’t…”
The words left him for reasons set deep in his heart, the well in himself where his fears and inadequacies collected and threatened to drown him.
”I don’t like it. War. Battle. I am looking for a different way.”
He chanced a look over at Elonoa’a. His friend looked thoughtful. Almost sad.
”You sit alone, before battle, to ready your mind. Even though you do not like it.”
”Yes.”
Elonoa’a’s gaze dropped to the cup held securely in Aurelius’ hands.
”Do you like drinking it?”
”The tea?” Aurelius laughed quietly. ”Ah, yes. It is a routine, of sorts, but it is also… the tea is a comfort. It’s for me.”
He didn’t have the words in the Islander tongue to explain the economics of the tea trade across his empire, but that topic would keep for another time.
Elonoa’a put his large hand over Aurelius’ around the cup. He surely couldn’t feel much of the warmth from the clay that way, but he would feel Aurelius’ warmed fingers. His own were cooler, calloused. Stronger and larger around his own. The lines on his palms showed where he guided the ropes while sailing. Aurelius wanted to turn his own hand and follow the calluses with his fingertips. He didn’t.
When he looked up again, Elonoa’a was watching him. Aurelius met his gaze, revelled in his comforting, dark eyes. He could get lost in them, he thought, like he could lose himself looking up at the night sky.
Elonoa’a said, ”Is this the only warmth you have for company?”
Suddenly Aurelius wanted to cry, could feel it pressing behind his eyes. No, he wanted to say, it’s not so bad to be alone, but it was true. He was lonely, often. He didn’t really have people. Just people. He missed a soft touch, care, for himself and his heart.
He did not know how to ask for it, how to admit to that, right here and now. Would not ever have known whom to ask it of, until he had met Elonoa’a.
He pushed back the tears and took a deep breath. ”Being at war… it might give an illusion of companionship, but not… not really for me. Not truly for anyone. It brings pain. So much pain, I don’t…” He paused. Tried to breathe. Focused on Elonoa’a’s hand on his, gently squeezing. Elonoa’a’s gaze never leaving his.
Aurelius looked down at his tea. It had cooled slightly, he could see from the steam rising off it. His hands were very warm. Elonoa’a must be able to feel it.
Aurelius carefully set the cup in the sand and lifted his hands to his face, spread them out against his closed eyes. They were warmer even than the air by the fire that had heated up his face. His fingers were familiar on his eyelids, palms heavy on his cheeks.
He sighed quietly. Elonoa’a shifted next to him, his grass skirts rustling, audible over the crackling of the fire.
”It’s nice,” Aurelius said, voice muffled through his hands. ”Warm. I can pretend that someone is close to me. Not the child emperor who has been at war for a decade. Just me.”
Aurelius didn’t know how much of that Elonoa’a had understood. He was mortified having said it out loud; he left his hands on his face, slowly cooling.
Then there were hands touching his. Elonoa’a, of course—fingers ghosting over Aurelius’ knuckles, a wide handspan wrapping around each of his wrists and pulling his hands from his face.
Elonoa’a sat close. His face was kind in the firelight, full of care; or so Aurelius wanted to imagine.
Elonoa’a set one hand to the back of Aurelius’ head and pulled him close, wrapped his other arm around him; pressed a kiss to his forehead, soft, lingering. His lips were very warm.
Aurelius stayed there, frozen in surprise, and found that he had no desire to pull away. Then he took in a long, shaky breath, eyes falling closed. His arms came up around Elonoa’a before he’d realised he’d moved. He tightened his grip, slid closer to hide his face in Elonoa’a’s shoulder.
Elonoa’a pulled him in, arms steady around him. It wasn’t the first time they’d touched, oh, far from it—Elonoa’a’s culture seemed to be more tactile than Aurelius’ courtly upbringing allowed. Much more so than ordinary people ever were with the emperor. A clasp on the shoulder or a hand offered in support wasn’t the same: from the beginning, Elonoa’a had touched him with interest, with growing friendship, all those many gestures of support and closeness that seemed to come naturally to him.
Aurelius liked it, and found it easier to reciprocate than he would have thought. He liked Elonoa’a. He enjoyed being close to him. Still, this—this moment of melancholy, of being held through his vulnerability, Elonoa’a’s strong arms supporting him and holding him close… it felt new. It felt safe.
Aurelius pushed his hands into Elonoa’a’s hair and found himself trying to get closer. Elonoa’a saved him from the awkward shuffling and pulled him around, into his lap, Aurelius’ legs on either side of his, rustling the grass skirt. Aurelius had a moment of concern for the leaves, afraid they would get squished or ripped out. But he had seen Elonoa’a do minor repairs on his skirt a few times during the voyage; he would know best what his clothing could endure.
Elonoa’a had wanted to make one such grass skirt for Aurelius, and cheerfully done so despite Aurelius’ vague embarrassment; so far, he had only worn it once, some ingrained sense of propriety keeping him in his loose linen clothing otherwise. He had noticed, though, Elonoa’a’s pleasure at seeing Aurelius in the grass skirt, something he had made. A bright, satisfied smile. Aurelius would like to see it again. He resolved, distantly, to wear the grass skirt again, soon. It was more practical, anyways.
Aurelius moved closer in Elonoa’a’s lap and hooked his chin over his shoulder. They were very close, like this. He could press himself all the way against Elonoa’a chest, hide his face in his hair. He felt faintly embarrassed at the position—he wasn’t totally ignorant of what young men did in the camps, pushing away grief and fear in the depth of night—but here, with Elonoa’a, comfort won out. Elonoa’a held him—just held him. His hands were warm on Aurelius’ back through the cloth. A different warmth than that which emanated from the fire behind him.
Aurelius didn’t cry more than a few stray tears that disappeared in the mass of Elonoa’a’s hair, but he took long moments to sink into the feeling of being held, secure, the closeness and warmth, Elonoa’a’s head leaned against his.
As he emerged again from the staticky nothingness in his head, he realised Elonoa’a was humming. Quietly, more a rumble in his chest than sounds Aurelius could hear, only barely audible over the crackling of the fire. Comfortable.
Elonoa’a lifted one hand carefully to Aurelius’ head again, set it lightly under his braids at the base of his skull, fingertips massaging at his hairline.
Aurelius didn’t want to move; didn’t want that hand to withdraw. But he did dare move his own hands, still buried in Elonoa’a’s hair, carefully carding his fingers through the curls. They were windblown and a little stiff with sea-salt. Aurelius was sure his own hair fared no better, but Elonoa’a was clearly used to it and unbothered.
Elonoa’a kept humming, a melody that was familiar, perhaps one he had sung before. Elonoa’a often sang while they were at sea, the wind on their faces and Aurelius’ worries so far behind him.
Aurelius slowly separated strands of hair from each other, no method or pattern behind it, allowing his fingers to do as they liked, wove them together in loose braids and watched them come undone in his hands, dark hands in dark hair. His fingernails were uneven with corners and chipped off pieces, as they often were at war, when he did his best to keep them short. But right now he hadn’t just come back from battle. He was on a journey, and he was in the best company he could wish for, and he was held safely in the arms of a man he had met not all that long ago but felt he knew better than the courtiers and generals and attendants and soldiers who had been with him for years.
A man who was already so dear to his heart.
One small braid had stayed, its bends following Elonoa’a’s curls, falling long from his scalp down his back and nearly invisible in his hair.
Aurelius pulled back. Elonoa’a shifted easily to balance his weight. There was a soft smile on Elonoa’a’s face, pleased. His face was so open, his emotions so close to the surface. Aurelius felt seen by those eyes. Wanted. (Loved.) He was sure his own smile must look sheepish, but he hoped that it also showed his own pleasure at this turn of events. To be sure, he said, ”This is nice. Thank you.”
Elonoa’a laughed at that, quietly. ”So polite,” he said, and pressed another kiss to Aurelius’ forehead, a second one slightly lower, between his eyes. Aurelius closed them and found himself smiling brightly.
”Thankfully I have you to tell me that it is unnecessary,” he said, for something to say.
”There are many things I can tell you,” Elonoa’a laughed. ”You can’t even survive on an island like this. Your sailing is terrible—”
This set Aurelius off laughing as well, and he brushed the hair away from Elonoa’a’s face, pushed his fingers into the thick strands and gave his own forehead kiss, confidently, deliberately. A second kiss to Elonoa’a’s temple, lingering with his cheek pressed against it. Elonoa’a squeezed his back, his neck—Aurelius basked in the warm shiver of it.
After some moments of basking, Aurelius asked, ”Will you sing?”
”If you wish it. What would you like to hear?”
”Anything. Something you like. Does your family have songs, perhaps? I want to know everything about you.” Elonoa’a considered this. ”There is a part about my—”
This was followed by a long collection of words Aurelius did not yet understand, but he didn’t mind. This was how they communicated, without hurry, with the certainty that they would have time to know each other’s languages and lives. They had space to share and discover; they both wanted to. They would know each other in time.
”It tells how we came to our island,” Elonoa’a went on, voice going distant.
”I would be honoured to hear it,” Aurelius said, which elicited another quiet laugh.
”Listen well,” Elonoa’a said and kissed Aurelius’ temple. Aurelius burrowed further into the comfort and warmth of him. The air was still around them. Elonoa’a’s voice was steady and sure.