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Alarak stared up at the clouds forming in the reddening sky overhead, a scowl on his face. He was hoping, standing on that balcony for as long as he had, that Artanis would finally notice and follow instead of leaving him there with the doubts that swirled in his head.
You came here to fix your issues, not gain more.
Finally, he felt a familiar presence behind him. He tapped his claws on the railing, not bothering to turn around.
“What is it, Artanis?”
“… You have been out here for a while.”
He scoffed, being deliberately abrasive. “An excellent observation. What of it?”
The Hierarch let out a short sigh, and wordlessly moved to stand next to him, leaning both arms on the railing. For once, he was in more casual wear instead of his usual, elaborate armour. It caught him off guard almost as much as his outfit from the previous evening had.
Their gazes met, and Alarak frowned, looking away immediately.
“Nothing is wrong if that is what you are implying.”
“I did not say a word, Alarak.”
There was another short silence. Suddenly, the Tal’darim wasn’t so sure about his decision, his mind racing with how exactly he was going to word the issue without giving himself away. As always, that slight panic gripped him as he realised how little control he had over this whole thing.
“So.” Artanis leant closer. “What is wrong?”
Alarak scoffed again. “I do hate repeating myself, Artanis.”
“Well, don’t ever say I didn’t offer to help you.”
Once again, it went quiet, though he felt those blue eyes on him. He didn’t have to look at his face to know the expression plastered across it. It was too much like…
“Stop looking at me like that. You expect me to break that easily?”
The Templar said nothing, leaning his head against his fist and raising a brow slightly. It only made his troubled state worse, and he growled, irritated.
“You are as bad as her.”
“After watching you both, I have picked up on a few useful techniques. She is very good at getting you to speak your mind.” Then, he smirked slightly. “She has also helped me to figure out when you are trying to lie.”
‘Trying’? Alarak scowled, once again drumming his claws against the railing. He was getting too distracted.
“… Fine. Since you are being so insufferable.”
He waited patiently, leaning forward a little more and keeping his gaze. Immediately that tightness in his chest became known again and he rolled his eyes.
“As a hypothetical, let us say that a Protoss might be experiencing a troubling set of symptoms.”
For a moment, Artanis’ expression became a picture of concern. “Are you sick?”
The Tal’darim shook his head, tutting. “No. This is not about me, Artanis. Don’t interrupt.”
He smiled softly, almost a smirk, gesturing to him. “Certainly a change of pace to have something not be about you, but of course, continue.”
Alarak didn’t bother to react to that comment, letting his scowl deepen for a moment. I doubt I’ll be able to be subtle enough for him. He already knows.
“Intermittently, this Protoss may experience a tightness in their chest. Their crest flushes, which then leads into a brief inability to think, and a short burst of anxiety. These symptoms pass quickly; however they are frequent and irritating.”
For a few moments, the Templar’s eyes widened, inspecting his face for something before he looked to the side. It was irritatingly fascinating how easily he was able to show whatever emotion he was feeling at that moment.
“Well… Hypothetically… Would this happen when this Protoss is around someone else? A certain someone they know?”
He didn’t want to answer that, simply narrowing his eyes at the question.
“Fine, alright. Well, Alarak, if the answer to that question were yes, this ‘hypothetical’ Protoss would simply be experiencing infatuation.” His tone was nonchalant, as though there were nothing to be concerned over; it was almost as infuriating as his diagnosis.
Of course.
“Although…” Artanis tapped the decoration on the end of his chin, refusing to stop inspecting his face.
Alarak narrowed his eyes again, glaring slightly. “What?”
He turned, leaning his elbows and back against the railing. “I would not have expected you of all Protoss to—”
“Do not even dare suggest that, Artanis.” He snapped, glaring into his blue eyes. After a moment, he relaxed his shoulders slightly, feeling his crest start to warm. “It was purely a hypothetical.”
“Alarak…” Artanis sighed, letting out a soft chuckle. “I know you believe I am a fool. However…”
“I suppose the Matriarch decided to feed you some nonsense, did she? As though I could have missed the way she was behaving at the gathering—”
“I trust her judgement and, well, you have come to me outlining exactly what she predicted.” Then, he shrugged. “Besides, for something that would usually be so trivial to bother you this intensely, of course it was going to be about you.”
The Tal’darim looked away, leaning back against the railing and shaking his head. “You can tell the Matriarch that she can keep her little ideas to herself. Even if I were the hypothetical, it means nothing.”
“Why? It would be a considerable breakthrough. I know you described your people having such troubles; having their Highlord be in a similar situation is relatable—”
“It is vulnerable. A clear invitation to usurp me. I did not come here to deal with frivolous emotions, Artanis, I came here to survive. I came here to keep the position I rightfully earned, even if it meant bowing to the whims of the masses where we see fit.”
“The heart wants what it wants. You can deny it all you like, but you are changing. For the better, I would say.”
“Spare me the lecture. My heart can stay quiet; it brings nothing but trouble.”
“Alarak—”
He raised a hand to cut him off before he could try any other platitudes. “I have told you the problem. Tell me how I am supposed to fix it instead of indulging in your little experiments; I will not be toyed with or made a fool of.”
Artanis hesitated for a moment, then sighed, rubbing his temple.
“This is… not something you can stop. You can demand it all you like, but I cannot make it go away.”
“That does me no good, Artanis.”
“I am sure it is impossible to keep away from whomever makes you feel this way…”
The irony of the statement was palpable; he couldn’t help but scoff. “Obviously.”
“If that is out of the question, then… confess how you feel?”
The idea slammed all three of his hearts into a sprint. He could feel the panicked expression fly across his face before he could compose himself. Almost unbidden, he let his voice raise.
“Out of the question. Why would you suggest such a ridiculously foolish idea—”
The Templar raised both hands, moving them in a calming motion and carefully stepping forward. “Alarak, it was simply a suggestion—”
“One of the worst I have ever heard you make.” He glared, but took a moment, a little regret mixing with the panic. He didn’t intend to be so rash. “And I have heard many from you.”
“I understand, it is not possible, I will not suggest it again, but, aside from that… The only other thing that I could think of is hope that it fades overtime.”
The Highlord scoffed again, rolling his eyes so hard his head moved with them. He said nothing more, and after a few moments, his companion sighed.
“That is all I can offer.” Artanis moved towards the balcony doors, giving him a sympathetic smile. “I will leave you to think a little more, but asking your aide may also be helpful. Maybe she has some insight; I remember her mentioning that she has had these kinds of emotions for far longer than you.”
“Fine.”
“For what it is worth, Alarak; I will ask that Vorazun not be so pointed with her comments next time. If I had known the distress it would cause, I would not have allowed it.”
Then, he was gone.
The Tal’darim glared at the doorway the Templar had ducked into before letting out a long, growled sigh, inspecting his claws and taking a moment to calm himself.
Fool… you need to control yourself.
It was irritating how easily both Artanis and the Matriarch had been able to read him, how easily they were able to piece together his problem. Clearly he had let himself become complacent than he had first thought, at least on Aiur.
With a sigh, he left the balcony, left the small meeting room, and made his way down to the ground level of the building, barely able to pull himself out of his own head.
Helpful as ever, Templar. ‘Hope it fades over time’. Yes, a brilliant plan; leave it to fester until I can no longer take it.
He scoffed to himself, glancing out of the high windows as he limped down the steps, his leg oddly uncomfortable after standing as he had for so long.
You knew it could never be that easy. When you first arrived, you had expected him to wave his hands and fix everything for you. He is right, of course…
At the bottom of the steps, he caught sight of his aide waiting patiently in a small seating area and sighed inwardly. He had hoped he could avoid continuing the previous topic of conversation until he had arrived back from Slayn and had some distance to harden his hearts again.
There were a few other Protoss around the spacious lobby, including her own guard, so he called for her privately as he made his way towards her.
“Ri’kara.”
Her head snapped up, and she stood immediately, bowing. “Ah, Fifth Ascendant. There you are.”
“Why are you here? I did not summon you.”
“The Hierarch requested I escort you back to your quarters, so naturally I came as quickly as I could.”
Of course.
“What else did he say?”
Laughing nervously, she shrugged, playing with her cords.
“He said that you had been ‘brooding’.”
“I was not brooding—”
She held up both hands, offering him a calming smile. “More accurately, he mentioned you were troubled and that I might be able to help. We can talk here.” She gestured to the seating area she had been resting in.
He glanced at the other Protoss still milling about in their own little conversations.
“Somewhere private would be preferable.”
“Then… Maybe we can sit in the gardens for a while; I’ll have Verinis stand out of sight for us.”
“… Fine.”
She led him out into the cool evening air. Verinis, her guard, stood to attention, and they had a short exchange between themselves before the little Tal’darim gestured towards the moon gate that was down the steps and across the path.
“Come, Val’ka, we can speak over here.”
Alarak merely nodded, following her as she walked quickly to their destination. Verinis stood against the wall by the rounded arch, nodding briefly to the both of them, and Ri’kara stepped onto the grass.
There were a few benches around the rock pool at the bottom of the small, lush garden. One was nestled between two trees, similar to the bench that they had talked on the night before; the comparison brought an irritating rush of soothing warmth, and he frowned, seating himself.
His frown deepened with some confusion as she chose to sit herself in the grass instead, putting some distance between them.
She didn’t allow him to ask, gesturing to him to catch his attention. “So… What’s wrong?”
“Did Artanis not tell you anything?”
She shook her head, tilting it a little and narrowing her eyes. “You just seem… more abrasive than usual.”
“I am fine.”
“Tch. You certainly are just a ray of sunshine this evening.”
The dripping sarcasm made him roll his eyes and scowl; it was always the indication that he had to come out with what was bothering him, or she would start guessing. And she usually guessed correctly.
“I simply wanted to ask how you might go about getting rid of unnecessary emotions.”
For a moment, she paused. He could practically see the gears turning in her mind. “Well… I’ll be honest, you’ll need to be more specific. What are you having trouble with?”
There was another moment of silence; he didn’t want to have to go through talking of this again, but… Just as he was about to speak again, Ri’kara, as he predicted, began to guess to fill the air.
“New emotions the Slayn Tal’darim are reporting tend to be guilt for outbursts of anger or violence, less control over those outbursts, remorse for previous crimes, melancholy…”
Alarak waved a hand dismissively. “I can deal with those by myself—”
For a moment, she looked at him with a sudden, burning interest before shaking her head and continuing her list, counting on her scarred fingers.
“Attachment to long-standing allies, jealousy around the specific Protoss that they have become attached too, a need for intimacy…”
He rolled his eyes at those, trying not to think about the heavy lump in his chest at the way that Nerazim had looked at her. One issue at a time.
“Love? Though I hardly think you would be feeling that.” She laughed softly, nervously, peeking up at him. “Right?”
“… I prefer the term ‘infatuation’.”
Her expression became much like Artanis’ had been, eyes wide, shocked, though her face and crest flushed a pretty shade of purple and she immediately looked down at her hands, lacing the calloused fingers together.
“I see, well…” She winced, passing a hand over her crest. “That… isn’t something that you can just get rid of, unfortunately.”
“… Of course.”
“I’m sorry—”
Alarak sat back against the metal wall behind him and lifted both hands, sighing. “No. I expected it.”
“… I suppose you asked the Hierarch already?”
“He was just as unhelpful.”
Ri’kara sighed, releasing the tension from her shoulders and shrugging. “You mean you didn’t like his answer?”
He scoffed, feigning irritation. “Nothing escapes you, does it?”
“No.” A smug look was creeping across her face, wrinkling the little bump between her eyes.
“Do not look so arrogant; I am not easy to read, Ri’kara.”
“You aren’t, that’s true.” She giggled a little, smiling properly. “It makes the accomplishment more satisfying.”
“Have you had your fun?”
The giggle became a soft laugh; the sound was almost unbearable in how it was able to worm its way into his chest and constrict it so tightly he could barely take in air. Then, the smile slipped, replaced with that worriedly apologetic expression.
“Still… I’m sorry. From my experience, it’s just something that you keep with you until it goes away.”
He raised a brow, looking her over. For a moment, he thought back to how Ialdir had held her hand at the previous evening’s event, the look on his face, and sighed. Jealousy once again reared its head.
“I suppose I should not be surprised that you have a similar dilemma.”
She shrugged, waving a hand dismissively; she clearly had no desire to elaborate further. “Either way… Even if you want to get rid of the feeling, I think you should hold onto it.”
“Why would I ever do that, Ri’kara?”
“It’s an opportunity for empathy. It’s a difficult emotion to grapple with, but your people are experiencing similar things; you can be… on their level. You don’t have to act on the feelings, you don’t have to do anything else. Just… Feel them, and if they go away, that’s fine.”
Alarak rolled his eyes, examining the water rippling with the breeze and frowning all over again.
She is right too. As much as I despise admitting that; they both are.
“I know that isn’t what you wanted to hear…” Her fingers once again nervously laced themselves together, and she looked down at the grass, slight shame tinging her features.
“It isn’t. However… I knew that I was asking the impossible.” He offered a small smile, and watched as she flushed lilac again. “I appreciate your advice.”
“I’m glad.” She leant forward, rubbing her neck with a hand. “Was that all that was troubling you?”
“Yes. I suppose I will tell you now while we are here; I am leaving for Slayn tomorrow.”
For a moment, disappointment flashed across her eyes, followed by a cold, neutral expression, and she nodded curtly as she sat up straight. “Do you need anything prepared?”
“No.”
“Alright. I’ll escort you back to your quarters.”
Ri’kara stood, brushing down her skirts before walking back to the garden’s entrance and waiting for him expectantly. That expression hadn’t faded, and for a moment he wondered if he had upset her before standing and following her out.
It was silent for many minutes as they walked. Then, she spoke again without looking at him. “You’re limping.”
He raised a brow, wondering how she noticed. “I am fine.”
For once, she didn’t push the matter, only narrowing her eyes at him for a few moments before giving a half-hearted shrug. “… Alright.”
Another uncomfortable silence washed over them. Alarak found himself glancing at her every so often, taking in that suddenly cold expression. He couldn’t stop himself from speaking.
“Out with it.”
She blinked, pulled from her reverie to look up at him with clear confusion. “Out with what?”
“Whatever has given you such a sour look.”
They stepped into the elevator, letting it take them upwards, and she shrugged.
“It isn’t anything; I just don’t like to think of Slayn.”
The next silence was beginning to get on his nerves. Inwardly, he sighed, hating how… concerned he seemed to be for the fact that she was in such a sudden bad mood. Pushing down his annoyance, he tried to lighten the atmosphere.
“Hmph. And here I was under the impression that you were going to miss me, Ri’kara.”
Unexpectedly, she made a sound akin to a snort as they stepped into the correct hallway. “Miss you? Well, I’ll certainly miss the peace and quiet when you get back.”
Relief washed over him briefly at the little smirk she gave him, and he suppressed a chuckle. “How cruel of you. Perhaps I should demand a little more respect.”
“You can try, Highlord.”
At least, after that comment, the quiet between them had eased, and as they stopped at his door, she bowed as always.
“Safe travels.”
With a nod, he stepped into his chamber and let the door close behind him.