Work Text:
“It was nothing,” Xenk insisted, as Damogen clasped his hand. “We were glad to help.”
“Wasn't nothing,” grunted Edgin, fingers idly spinning the harp-stamped paperweight, almost releasing the map held open on the table. “My legs still ache after jumping across those giant puzzle floors. We should get extra money for that.”
Holga snorted. “You should exercise more than twice a year.”
“I think you'll find your reward is pretty generous, Ed,” said Damogen, slipping his hand free as Edgin huffed at Holga. Reaching beneath the table, he produced a clinking and heavy pouch. “I'm not gonna stiff an old friend just 'cause he's an idiot.”
Edgin abandoned the paperweight to grab the reward. “Pouch that big, I might forgive you calling me an idiot.”
“Artifact this dangerous, I might forgive you for raiding Korinn's Keep,” said Damogen, smile wry, and turned to the enchanted chest behind him to lay the Sceptre of Storms within.
Doric took a step towards Edgin, her long tail flicking. “Since when do you charge people to call you an idiot?”
“Since now,” said Edgin, but the bluff dismissal melted from his handsome face as he loosened the bag's drawstring and stared at the treasures within.
“Is that a ruby?” breathed Kira, as the candleglow glinted off a sheen of red within the gold.
Simon sidled closer, eyes wide with wonder. “Where are we going to spend a ruby?”
“Same place we're gonna spend this sapphire,” chuckled Edgin, rolling the second gem between thumb and forefinger.
Xenk raised his brows. “You have a large purchase in mind?”
“Got a large something in mind,” said Edgin, those intense blue eyes fixing upon him.
Kira piped up, “Is it a pony?”
Edgin sighed, tired but fond. “Kira, you have a horse.”
“That's not a pony,” Kira countered.
“Yeah, she's right,” said Holga, nodding.
“Don't encourage her,” huffed Edgin, fingers swirling the sapphire around. “Our daughter's enough of a handful already.”
“I think Kira is unlikely ever to fit within your hand,” said Xenk, gaze flicking between girl and father. “Unless you are in possession of a shrinking spell.”
“Ooh,” warbled Kira, eyes wide and bright. “Maybe we could shrink my horse as small as a pony. Simon, do you know any shrinking spells?”
“Well, of course I –” Simon coughed as Edgin elbowed him. “Uh. I mean. No, I don't.”
Kira pouted till Edgin said, “How about I use one of these coins to buy you a cream cake at the market?”
Her face lit up again. “Oh, yes, please! Can we go now? I want one with purple icing.”
“Think market's over for the day, Bug,” Holga muttered gently, patting Kira's shoulder.
“We can go tomorrow,” promised Edgin, all his charm thrumming with sincerity. “But I bet the inn serves nice desserts.”
“I have not sampled their dessert menu,” Xenk said, extending Kira a small smile of his own, “but I believe Jerria offers a caramel pudding.”
“Sounds yummy,” said Kira, beaming, already half marching towards the exit. “Let's get going, gang!”
Edgin tipped the jewels back into the pouch, pulling the drawstring snug, as Holga and Doric followed Kira. Feet shifting slightly upon the floor, he glanced at Damogen.
“Hold on a moment,” said Damogen, turning from the ensorcelled trunk, half the locks yet undone. He plunged a hand inside his jerkin and pulled out an envelope. “Yendar, someone left a letter for you in our dead-drop.”
“Which someone?” asked Xenk, tilting his head, eyes narrowed. “And is it urgent?”
“No idea and no idea,” Damogen said, thrusting the object at him. “I've checked it for all the usual spells and curses, but I haven't opened it.”
Xenk murmured his thanks as he received it from Damogen's hand. Rubbing his thumb over the smooth paper, Xenk's eyes traced the pattern of ink whirling across the surface: Xenk Yendar. Private & Confidential.
Edgin called to him from the foot of the stairs, as Simon disappeared up them. “Come on,” he said, blue eyes twinkling, smile fond enough to make Xenk's heart squeeze within his chest. “There's gonna be all nine hells to pay if Kira doesn't get her pudding soon.”
“I would not deny the girl such joy,” muttered Xenk, hurrying after him, up and round the spiral steps.
Xenk emerged into the street, barely needing a blink to adjust from candlelight to early dusk, the unopened envelope still clutched between his fingers. With all his armour strapped to his body, he had nowhere to slot the letter – except perhaps to crush it behind his wide, flat belt – and so he kept his awkward grip upon it, long legs striding in the party's shadow.
They wove through the cobbled streets, Kira almost skipping, Edgin chuckling with Doric – the reward pouch safely tucked inside his jacket, where Xenk could spy no trace of it, despite the attention he paid to the man's form. Air still warm with the day's ebbing heat, the slight breeze carried the sweet-sharp scent of the night's first hearthfires. They ambled beneath the darkening blanket of sky, the rich rosy glow of the horizon just beginning to cede to the heavy blue by the time they reached the inn.
Xenk almost sighed as the door creaked closed behind them, shutting out the town's low hum of early evening bustle. Eastbridge was not the busiest place, but his sensitive ears picked up every rustle across a wide area. He was glad to return to the haven of Jerria's Sleeping Griffon – the quiet berth he always favoured when passing here, if he was not lodging with the Harpers.
The tavern that occupied the ground floor was almost empty, except for two half-elves half-heartedly playing cards, and a wizened gnome chewing on an unlit pipe. On his first visit, Xenk had enquired of Jerria how she stayed in business with, well, so little business – and almost challenged her to a duel when her answer suggested she supplemented her income with morally bankrupt smuggling. Fortunately, the burly woman had simply chuckled and explained that the immoral goods were copies of her wife's erotic novels; Xenk had reluctantly accepted a signed volume.
Still grasping his letter, Xenk followed the others to a booth. Simon and Doric wriggled in first, Holga slipped in one side and Kira the other, Edgin flopped down next to Holga – leaving Xenk to perch beside Kira, and stare across the table at Edgin's handsome face, his knees almost bumping against the bard's.
Millazh, the scrawny tabaxi waiter, scurried over to the group. Edgin immediately set about ordering stew and bread and potatoes, a warm and practised smile on those tempting lips, though the prices in this place hardly needed any negotiation.
“And a caramel pudding!” added Kira, grinning.
“And a caramel pudding,” confirmed Edgin.
Millazh smiled and scribbled on his pad. “Would you like some drinks while you wait? We have wine, ale, apple juice...”
“Some juice, thank you,” Xenk said.
“Ale,” grunted Holga.
“Ale,” chanced Kira, grin widening.
“She'll have a juice,” said Edgin, waving one hand. “I'll take an ale.”
Doric and Simon plumped for ales also, and Millazh hurried into the kitchen, where the soft echo of rhythmic thumping suggested Jerria was in what she had termed the aggressive portion of her culinary struggles.
Millazh soon returned with a tray of tankards, and Xenk sipped his fresh juice with his free hand, attempting not to gaze too intently at Edgin opposite him – though Edgin was already thoroughly immersed in a debate with Simon, fingers drumming on his mug as he declared that a wig made a better disguise than a moustache.
Still, Xenk forced himself to tear his eyes away, for he knew he could drink a thousand cups of that sweet sight and never slake his thirst. And a hunger to sate another curiosity was coiling within him, for the letter in his hand was an utter mystery.
He turned it over, inspecting it. There was no wax seal – the paper was simply folded over to form an envelope and hold it closed. Which meant he had neither crest nor signet as a clue. Xenk's brows twitched, and he returned to the words upon the front, fingers idly tracing the lines. Private and confidential... What if it was urgent? He ought to read it, in case he was being summoned, for a delay might be disastrous. Yes, yes. And they had a little time before Jerria's food would be served...
As Xenk reached to unfold the letter, Edgin leaned back, those deep blue eyes settling on him again. “You're not gonna read that now, are you?”
“It may be urgent,” said Xenk, prying the paper apart.
Edgin wrinkled his nose, the slight scrunch barely making his features any less attractive. “Thought Damogen said it wasn't urgent?”
“He said he did not know,” said Xenk, forcing his eyes back down. “And who would be writing to me but a contact with an important warning, or an urgent request for help?”
“I don't know. Loads of people,” sighed Edgin, waving one hand at the air. “You're kinda famous, Xenk.”
“For being a paladin and performing dangerous quests,” said Xenk, smoothing the paper out. “Besides, the nearby tables are empty. And it is not as though anyone at this table would read over my shoulder.”
“Everyone at this table would read over your shoulder,” huffed Edgin, a hint of grimace in those sweet lips.
“I wouldn't,” grunted Holga, thunking her tankard down. “I got manners.”
“You store your axe on the cottage dining table,” snorted Edgin, turning to her, “and your dirty boots on my chair.”
As Holga dragged Edgin's entire attention into a hearty discussion of whether it could really be his chair if the seat was where her boots lived, Xenk lowered his gaze to the rows of ink across the page.
Xenk,
I'm guessing this letter will be a surprise to you. Not just because you weren't expecting to get it, but because of what I'm gonna say. And I'm gonna try and keep it plain and simple, no fancy poetic stuff, because I don't want you to be confused about what I mean. Though my gods, I could write a hundred songs...
But I really want you to understand. It's important that you don't mistake my feelings. Even if you don't share them. And I thought this was the best way to make sure you understand. You need the right words and the time to process them. And I need to find the right words and this gives me the time to do that. Because I've thought about them a lot, thought about saying them so many times, but when I'm looking at your face half my brain just turns to goop.
So here it is. I've known you for a while now and I feel like I've got to know the real Xenk. Not that I think you were trying to hide that at all, because my gods, you are always completely yourself. And that used to frustrate me. Because I thought it was just a trick. I thought you were just some noble paladin, looking down on everyone, moralising at us. But you don't live on a pedestal. And I don't think I'm the only one who's put you on one. Because you are that good. You are that noble. You really are a paladin. And your face is unbelievably beautiful. I bet a lot of people imagine they're in love with you.
I've seen them lavish praise on you, then awkwardly leave when they see beyond your paladin image. Because you're also awkward, in a really earnest way. You spend your life protecting people, but you're vulnerable too. I've seen how much it takes to hold so tight to your duty. You're so kind and so strong and so determined. But I've seen how you struggle too. I've seen you devastated because being the perfect paladin wasn't enough to save someone. And I've seen people hate you just for being a Thayan, thinking you're a monster. But you're not the worst version of you that they imagine. And you're not the flawless fantasy they idolise. Under all that there's a real man, awkward and trying his best.
And that's the man I've fallen in love with. And I'm hoping maybe you feel the same about me. You've seen the real me too. Even before I did. And you try so hard to get me to be the best version of myself. And when I'm with you, I feel like maybe I could be that man. But it's always so hard to tell what you're thinking. And you wouldn't notice my flirting if it came with a 10ft tapestry that said 'this is flirting'. So maybe you don't feel anything more for me than that paladin urge to make me better. And I don't want to ruin what we have. So I'm not going to say who wrote this. But if you do feel the same, I think you'll know in your heart who I am.
As his mentioned heart skittered beneath his ribs, Xenk's eyes drifted to the signature: a simple X, loosely scrawled. He swallowed, rifling through all his recent connections for anyone whose name began with that letter. But it was not common outside of Thay, and he could think of no one. Perhaps it was an affectation, a codename...
Perhaps it could still be from...
“Are you okay, Xenk?” asked Simon, leaning on the table, brown eyes earnest. “You look a bit, uh...”
“The letter is... not what I expected,” said Xenk, stomach a little tight.
Doric arched forward too, mouth pulled to a sympathetic slant. “Bad news?”
“Good news, perhaps,” Xenk murmured, forcing his gaze to remain upon the page – not to dart in the direction of Edgin. “Depending upon the sender.”
“You don't know who sent it?” Doric asked, voice light.
“They did not sign their name,” said Xenk, a waver shivering across his chest, half hope, half fear. “Merely the codename X.”
Kira idly leaned in. “That's not an X,” she gasped, her eyes sparking with innocent awe. “That's a kiss!”
Doric tilted her head. “Huh. So you've got a secret admirer. Maybe someone still pining after the noble paladin that saved them.”
“Maybe it's someone you know,” Edgin said, escaping from Holga's stern gaze, charm light as a feather on his handsome face. “Testing the waters, seeing if you're receptive before they confess in person.”
“Yeah, makes sense.” Simon nodded, brown eyes wide and earnest. “Opening up can be pretty awkward.”
Holga crossed her arms. “So they're chicken.”
“I do not think I am being romanced by a bird,” said Xenk, raising an eyebrow.
“Maybe you are,” giggled Kira, hand reaching for the letter. “You should let me check it for beakprints.”
Edgin sat up. “Uh, I don't think you should let her read that –”
“It is not graphic,” said Xenk, even as he angled the page away from her, though his voice was more faint, his grip more weak than he intended. “It is explicit only in terms of feelings.”
Edgin's expression flashed sharper. “Yeah, but it's pri–”
“Don't act like she didn't get all that curiosity from you.” Holga snorted, nudging him. “You wanna read it just as bad as her.”
“And how else are we gonna figure out who's in love with Xenk?” asked Kira, beaming, her nimble fingers slipping the paper from Xenk's loose grasp. “Maybe we should all read it!”
“That's true,” said Simon, all nervous sincerity. “Can I see?”
As Kira passed the page to Simon, Xenk's ribs squeezed tight. He really ought –
And yet, his veins thrummed with the need to solve the mystery, his heart pattering hopefully, and he found himself frozen in his seat, limbs lax with indecision, confusion, anticipation.
“Oh, wow,” said Simon, as he scanned down to the crucial passage, brows quivering slightly. “That's really, uh...”
“Let me have a look,” said Doric, plucking it from Simon's hand, and Xenk almost opened his mouth –
Edgin shifted as Doric absorbed the words, even her sharp features lifting.
“That really is direct, isn't it?” she said, almost gentle, as she held the paper out to Holga.
Holga waved it away, so Doric passed it back to Simon, who handed it to Xenk.
“And you don't recognise the handwriting?” Simon asked, voice still soft and earnest.
“It seems familiar,” muttered Xenk, brows tightening. “I cannot place it.”
“Yeah, me neither,” said Simon, leaning back against the wall, a thoughtful look settling on him. “But the way it's written, it doesn't seem like someone who met you once. More like someone who's spent a lot of time with you...” His voice trailed off, shoulders sagging a fraction.
“I am 139 years old. There are many people who have spent significant time with me,” noted Xenk, that fragile hope rippling a little in his chest, as the reality of numbers crept in. “Before you welcomed me into your group, I had travelled with other companions.” Admittedly, not for quite so many months. Or for such trivial reasons. Or rather, trivial excuses, if he was honest...
“So it could be anyone,” breathed Kira, excitement flaring in her eyes. “It's a real quest!”
“Maybe we should stick to heisting magical artifacts from bad guys' mansions,” said Simon, eyes flicking to Edgin and back. “And breaking up cults. Keep our noses out of other people's business.”
“All of that is other people's business,” snorted Holga.
“Not the point, Holga,” Edgin declared, one hand sweeping through the air, the other tapping on his tankard. “Simon's making a very good point, and we should all –”
“Excuse me,” said Millazh, bustling in with a laden tray, the bowls upon it steaming – filling the air with the rich scent of thick stew. And with that, after a long day delving deep into a dungeon, everyone's stomachs overruled their tongues and then fell to eating instead of speaking.
By the time their spoons were clattering within their empty bowls, mere crumbs left upon their plates, Xenk could almost hear the sighs lurking in his friends' lungs, part satisfaction and part exhaustion.
Licking her spoon and slinging it down, Kira opened her mouth, and Xenk feared – hoped – she was about to speak on the earlier topic –
Instead, a rumbling yawn slipped out.
Holga chuckled, leaning forward. “Alright, Bug, time for bed.”
“Aw.” Kira pouted with all the innocent disappointment of youth. “But I wanted to –”
“Not tonight, Bug,” said Holga, with the kindness she reserved for Kira. “Tomorrow, maybe.”
“Never, maybe,” muttered Edgin, so low Xenk almost did not hear it. He wondered on that, rolling the words within his mind, chest shivering a little beneath his armour – but Edgin's movements were relaxed and easy as he scrambled from his seat to let Holga go.
Xenk too rose, stepping to the side so Kira could pass. She hugged her father, receiving a kiss on the forehead, and trudged behind Holga to the inn's staircase.
“Yeah, I'm off as well,” sighed Simon, stretching, before Xenk could slide back into place. “Almost falling asleep in my ale here.”
Doric chuckled, tail tip rising to point at Xenk. “Simon's as bad as you sometimes, Xenk.”
Edgin snorted. “Don't pretend you're not going to bed too.”
“Oh, I'm going to bed too,” Doric said, flashing Edgin a grin both sharp and fond. “But on the basis that I don't want to be stuck hanging out with you.”
Rolling his eyes, Edgin snorted again – a deeper, warmer sound.
“I guess you're about to abandon me too,” Edgin said, after a sip of his ale, after their friends had slipped away. “Unless this is the one time in history that Xenk Yendar stays up after ten o'clock.”
“Contrary to common opinion, I may remain awake as late as I wish,” said Xenk, a smile twitching in his mouth. “As long as I atone for it first.”
Edgin guffawed. “Such a paladin,” he said, his playful tone matching Xenk's joke. “You really are always completely yourself.”
Xenk's mouth inched to a wider curve, his heart flickering slightly. “It seems so.”
Edgin shook his head, still laughing, and waved him goodnight, leaning against the side of the booth without sitting back down.
Xenk nodded in reply, and stepped towards the stairs –
“Edgin,” he said, pausing, stomach tight. “How did you know what the letter said?”
“What?” Edgin scoffed, eyes darting away. “I read it, duh.”
“Simon read it. Doric read it. Even Kira cast her eyes across it,” said Xenk, suspicion creasing in his forehead. “But despite your infinite curiosity and absolute need to fiddle with any object in a two foot radius, you did not even attempt to.” Tension coiled around his heart, and Xenk dropped to a murmur. “Almost as if you did not need to.”
“I do not fiddle with everything,” protested Edgin, voice cracking, eyes wide.
Xenk inhaled, the air jagged. “That is not a denial, Edgin.”
Edgin's blue eyes settled on him, more fragile than he had ever seen them. Hope swelled in Xenk's chest, sweet and aching, and he shifted closer – that soft gaze following him, lingering, waiting.
“Perhaps I am merely being misled by my own hopes,” whispered Xenk, his voice fragile too, hand hesitant as he reached to clasp Edgin's fingers. “But in my heart, I believe that letter was from you, Edgin.”
“Your hopes?” Edgin's brows lifted, his expression so open, so vulnerable, simmering with that same hope. “You're saying that you...”
Xenk swallowed. There was still the chance he was mistaken. And yet, after that letter, a paladin such as he could not refuse to be brave. “Yes, Edgin,” he murmured, trembling fingers squeezing Edgin's hand. “I have not spoken of it, but I bear a tender affection for you.”
Edgin laughed – bright, warm, welcoming. “Fuck, you don't know how much I've wanted to hear you say that,” he said, that gorgeous mouth pulling to a grin, body arching closer. “Though I wasn't imagining those exact words.”
“My declaration is not so eloquent as your own dear letter,” said Xenk, his own smile wry and wavering, the patter of his heart threatening his undoing.
“Maybe not. Still great to hear,” chuckled Edgin, twining nearer. “But if you wanna write it down, I can hand you a quill –”
“I think,” murmured Xenk, nudging forwards, “I shall simply kiss you instead.”
“Yeah,” breathed Edgin, even his charm faltering, “that works.”
And Xenk pressed his smile to Edgin's lips, all his long-held need rippling beneath his ribs in sweet release. A soft moan curling in his throat, Edgin arched to meet him, skilled mouth shaping to his, settling so perfectly. They slipped together, slipped apart, flesh sliding over flesh, till Edgin pulled back to grin at Xenk.
Xenk smiled in return, rubbing his thumb over Edgin's knuckles. “I feel I should apologise for allowing the others to read your letter,” he said, the paper almost forgotten in his other hand. “In my shock, I rather let the situation slip from my control.”
Edgin chuckled, fond and easy. “It's okay. Unless we're planning to hide this from them, I think they're gonna figure out what I feel for you pretty quick.” He licked his lips, mischief blooming there. “Especially once I start making them listen to the hundred love songs I'm gonna write about you.”
“I look forward to hearing them,” said Xenk, his own soft chuckle slipping in. “Though I apologise again, for while I reciprocate your feelings, I do not think I can match such an outpouring.”
“Wouldn't expect you to,” laughed Edgin, pressing close again, arms sliding around Xenk – then paused, and jacked a thumb over his own shoulder, brows lifted. “But if you did wanna write a letter about how amazing I am, I've got a –”
“Would you rather direct me to the writing desk,” rumbled Xenk, fingers drifting from Edgin's hand to his hip, “or your bed.”
Edgin swallowed. “Bed. Definitely bed,” he croaked, blue eyes widening.
Xenk could not suppress his smile as he let Edgin lead him to the stairwell.
*
A sigh spilling from him as he stretched, all his muscles tingling with a slight satisfying soreness, Xenk eased his eyes open to gaze across at Edgin. The dawn light caressed his tumbled hair, the curve of his cheek, the nose smushed into the pillow –
Xenk swallowed a soft chuckle, heart thrumming fondly. Hardly an elegant pose, and yet it diminished none of the appeal Edgin held for him. Indeed, with a gentle hope wrapping close like a gifted blanket, he longed for the man more than ever. Teeth catching at his lower lip, Xenk's thoughts drifted back to the previous night – to Edgin's sweet touch, those wondrous words, that letter –
To Edgin's request, half jest and half earnest, that Xenk write his own letter in reply.
Inhaling slowly, Xenk rose to rest upon his elbow, gaze drifting across his lover. He was hardly a wordsmith, not like Edgin, and he really ought to pry himself from this cocoon of warmth to begin his morning meditation in the courtyard –
And yet, how could he refuse such a request?
Xenk glanced at the door. And if he did slip out, he did not wish to leave Edgin with an empty bed – for though the man was a deep sleeper, if he should wake, Xenk could not bear the thought that Edgin should find all trace of their tenderness gone, save the wrinkles in the sheets.
And there was a desk, and he had a quill...
Smiling, Xenk silently slipped from beneath the covers, wrapping a discarded shirt around his waist, digging from Edgin's bag the quill and paper and ink – perhaps the same ink which had brought him such a happy change – and settled before the desk.
Mouth twitching, thoughts tumbling, fingers taut upon the writing implement, Xenk gazed upon the cream expanse of the empty page. His words were slow to coalesce, considered deeply, but at last he applied ink to paper...
My dearest Edgin,
You requested that I write you a letter in reply, and I cannot deny my love such a simple desire. I'm sure Holga would say that your ego does not need the flattery, but if there is ever a time to list all the qualities that spurred one's love it is on the night of that love's consummation. Because I wish to begin this relationship in a spirit of honesty and openness. Because I wish you also to understand how deeply, how ardently, how long I have felt these things for you.
I cannot say when they began. Perhaps they were always there, even at our first meeting. As you have noted, I am not gifted in the matter of communication – even with myself. But as we have spent these days, these weeks, these months together, the truth of your soul has become ever clearer to me and I have grown ever more attached to you. No, I cannot say when these feelings began. But they deepened until they were a heavy ache inside my chest.
For you have a kind heart, though you often pretend you do not. You have a keen mind, when you pause to use it. You are determined, when all seems impossible. You are hopeful, even in the darkest of your hours. You protect your family, offering both strategy and earnest words of encouragement. And you have forged that family from far more than blood, with a tenderness many would shy from. And in addition to tender letters, your fingers and your voice can bring forth song of such beauty as to weave a spell of romance upon any soul. And, I'm sure you would desire to hear, a face which makes my battle-hardened heart flutter within my chest. This is the man I know. This is the Edgin I love.
I am grateful that you risked your heart upon those lines of ink. For in writing my own letter, I see how vulnerable such a revelation is, the bravery it required of you. But I earnestly desire to be so vulnerable with you, and I do not fear it. For I know in my soul that my heart is safe with you. For your kiss has transformed the heavy ache in me to a soaring sweetness. For I believe, and wish you to believe, that you are worth it all.
With more love than my awkward words can describe,
Xenk
Chest rising with a slow inhale, Xenk read through his own words once more, then nodded. With a smile at Edgin – still sleeping – Xenk folded the paper up, copying the method Edgin had used. He rose from the creaking chair, took half a step –
Considered what Edgin may think, if he found the room empty, only a blank envelope to greet him –
Laid his earnest words back on the desk, scratched a wonky heart upon the envelope, then strode across to his slumbering love. Fondness curving in his mouth, Xenk rested his letter upon his pillow, stealing another peek at Edgin in his vulnerable nudity.
Then Xenk smoothed himself, dressed, locked the door behind him, and slipped down to the courtyard – his steps light, his soul shimmering, his heart achingly full.