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Mal
It had been more than five years since a serious attempt had been made on his life outside of a battlefield.
He'd slightly foolishly assumed that with the Empire so well established he was past the point where anyone he met might be willing to risk the consequences of killing him.
Apparently not.
He didn't recognise the woman who'd approached him in the gardens and took his hand to shake before kneeing him in the gut and cracking him in face with her fist as he fell back. He cursed the fact that he'd long since given up on a personal guard when he was in the palace when she drew a short sword. She had it at her hip and, below the extravagant jewelled sheath, the blade was plain and well worn. A sword that was meant for work rather than ornamentation.
He took a brief moment to curse whatever ancestor who had decided that the most obvious symbol of wealth should be wandering around with a literal weapon strapped to their bodies - couldn't they have picked jeweled pendants or something equally harmless? Although from the look on his attackers face she'd have tried to kill him with one of those too.
"Think of what you're doing," he said as he pulled his own sword from its scabbard. Since the disgraced son of Barrward had attacked Arel he'd switched to wearing his it at his hip too.
"I know what I'm doing," she snarled "You may have forgotten the lives lost in our war against Hakrium but not all of us have. Fucking Windriver might have softened your brains but you were a soldier once. Don't you remember what they did to us?"
"The war is long done," he snapped back at her "It's been two years, Hakrium is long since part of the Empire. We won the war."
"A Windriver still has power there, still rules," she swung the sword and he had never been so thankful for any lessons in his life. Arel had drilled him over and over in how to parry an attack and the motion had formed a memory in his muscles.
"A Windriver has power here, too," she continued "More power than he should have ever had. The Emperor should have struck his head off when he knelt his surrender."
She struck again and again and he grimly tried for an attack of his own. There would be no reasoning with this woman, he could see the light of conviction in her eyes. She would kill him or die trying. Where in the hells was anyone? It was early, true but the palace never slept - could no one hear the clash of blades? He couldn't see a way to run without giving her his back or risking the next person who she met.
He'd only ever fought with Arel and it was jarring to look across locked blades and see a stranger. It was when they disengaged from the lock that he made his first mistake and took a slice down the edge of his arm that had blood flowing immediately. Not quick enough to be a danger straight away but enough to slow him. She was the better swordsman, he could tell, but he might have an edge if he could keep his head.
"You've set aside honour, then," he taunted her "Do the lives lost mean nothing to you?"
"They mean everything," she howled and he could see tears in her eyes.
"Then why risk a return to war? If you kill me, my brother will raze your country to the ground."
It wasn't true. Ellyan loved him, he would grieve him desperately and punish this woman for his death, but he wouldn't start a war and ensure the loss of innocent life. Mal would find a way to haunt him if he did.
It was enough, though, to make her falter and he took the opportunity he'd been watching so closely for. His sword ground against bone when he put it through her shoulder and the blade fell from her nerveless fingers. It scraped again as she pulled away and she screamed in pain. His stomach lurched at the blood; it was very different from the long distance pulse weapons he'd used when he was at war.
Finally - finally - there were shouts from across the garden and he sighed in desperate relief. The Imperial guardsman started running as soon as he saw them and Mal judged he was safe enough to take a few staggering steps back and collapse on a bench. He left his attacker sobbing and kneeling in the grass.
Arel
It had been a long time since he'd felt fear like this. Not fear for himself, or even fear for the people he ruled but desperate, all encompassing fear for someone he loved.
He couldn't run, although he wanted to. Thee had a brutal grip on his arm as they walked at speed towards the doctor's room but her face was serene. Her court mask was immaculate and he knew his was failing him but he couldn't help it. Mal was hurt.
Bleeding, the scribed message had said. Bleeding from a sword wound from an unknown opponent.
Who had thought it was a good idea to kill kill the brother of the Emperor of Lutoria? Killing Mal didn't stop the progress of the vast empire or remove power from Ellyan's hands. Ellyan had three children living strong and Thee had three more, Mal wasn't close enough in line to the throne for his death to cause problems in the succession. True, he was a gifted general and politician but Lutoria could bear his loss.
In truth, his death would be a devastating loss to their family but it would not be enough to shake the foundations of the Lutorian Empire. Gods, his death would be too much for Arel to bear. Surely if he was near death then the message Ram had hurriedly scribed would not have told them to come with discretion.
The door to the doctor's room was standing open when they arrived and Thee swept in without even pausing.
The first thing Arel saw was his husband, pale but sitting upright with the sleeve of his shirt cut away. There was a long, thin gash down the side of his left arm - Arel could see immediately how it had happened. Mal was lax in tucking his elbow when he parried lunging strikes and the blow he hadn't fully blocked had continued on to score down his arm. Arel's blade master would have rapped the elbow painfully to correct the dropped guard but he'd not been able to bring himself to teach like that. He couldn't quite regret that choice but he wished he'd drilled Mal harder on his form.
Thee's hand fell away from his arm and he crossed the room in a heartbeat. Mal had chosen to sit at the table and another chair was pulled out at an angle next to his. Intended for Arel, he realised with a flash of fondness that mingled with his desperate relief. He reached out and took Mal's hand in time to offer a firm supporting grip as the doctor wiped away another swathe of partially dried blood.
"Mal," he said quietly "I'm here, husband mine."
He was rewarded with a tired smile and the gentle press of his husband's thigh against his own.
"Arel," he replied "I'm glad you are, love. I've had a bit of a morning, if I'm honest."
Arel couldn't deny his laugh was watery and he brought Mal's hand up to his mouth to kiss it gently.
"What happened?" Thee asked. She paused next to Mal and brushed his hair away from his forehead then tilted his face a little towards the light. He was bruised, Arel realised, as if he'd taken a blow to the face.
"Indeed," Ellyan joined them, Xxalia in his wake and Thee moved to sit next to Ram. The room doesn't quite feel big enough to hold them all and Dr Cephanet coughed quite pointedly.
"Forgive us," Doctor, Ellyan said "We will, of course, leave if you require it of us."
The doctor shrugged.
"Up to you," he told Mal "I'm fine as long as no one gets in the light."
Mal sighed and nodded.
"Stay," he said "Telling you what I know would be a good distraction, and if you're all here then I only have to do it once."
"She came upon you in the garden?" Ellyan asked.
"Yes," Mal replied "She was dressed as any other member of court, didn't seem out of place at all. She wasn't a noble, though, I think she was a soldier."
"Why do you think that?" Ellyan had seated himself opposite Mal and Arel at the table, making way for Xxalia to come and press a gentle kiss to Mal's forehead.
"She spoke about the war with Hakrium, talked about the lives lost. Asked me if I knew what they'd done to her people. My best guess is she was drafted from one of the vassal states to fight for Lutoria."
Arel closed his eyes. It had been two years since his surrender and still he couldn't escape the war. The violence of it had come back to haunt him, and with Mal as the target.
"And did she imply you were her target specifically?" Ellyan asked. Mal gave a wry smile then hissed when the doctor poked at the newly cleaned injury.
"That'll need stitches," he said "better done in a cleaner environment so if there's anything else needs said urgently then nows the time."
"She wasn't trying to cause problems for Lutoria," Mal said "I was her target, but only because hurting me would hurt you. And hurt Arel."
It did hurt to know that he was the reason someone had come after his husband with blade drawn but the regret was well tempered. He'd also been the reason that Mal knew how to defend himself - the swords of Lutorian nobles were nearly all decorative and Mal would have been cut down in moments if he'd tried to fight back even a year ago.
"I see," Ellyan said and Arel saw the tense line of his shoulder relax a little "A threat then, but one you've rather neatly thwarted."
"And with a scar to show for it," the doctor chimed in. "Time to go," he carried on "Let's find you a pain powder and sort you out." His tone was unconcerned but his hands were very gentle when he guided Mal to his feet. Arel would have followed but Ellyan caught his eye.
"Can I borrow your husband for a moment, Mal," he asked and waited for Mal's wave of acknowledgement.
"Just a moment," he promised when Arel would have complained "I'll not keep you apart long."
The door closed behind Mal and Arel was astonished when the Emperor of Lutoria stood up from his chair, rounded the table and sank to his knees in front of him. Ellyan took his hands and pressed them to his forehead in the old ceremonial gesture of gratitude. Arel had knelt like that when he took up his airship command from his father but he couldn't have imagined an emperor kneeling so. Certainly he'd never seen it done in the Lutorian court.
"Ellyan-" he started to say but he was cut off.
"Thank you," his husband's brother said "Thank you, Arel for training him. For keeping him alive today. He was a target chosen to hurt us but you protected him."
"It was my fault she was there," he whispered and Ellyan raised his head to pin him with his assessing gaze.
"Perhaps you were the catalyst but it was only a matter of time before someone found whatever route she took to get into the palace. The swords our ancestors chose as ornaments of wealth have not been used as weapons here for generations. You saved Mal's life today and no-one else could have. Thank you."
He rose to his feet and Arel found his manners enough to nod.
"I'm very glad to have been of service," he said and meant it more than he knew how to convey. If the skills he'd been beaten bloody to aquire were used to save his husband's life then it was worth every moment he'd suffered in the gaining of them.
"I hope you will consider more students," Ellyan said "I cannot discount the advantage in both defense and offense."
Arel found he had regained his equilibrium enough to snort a laugh.
"You may need to find a better smith," he warned Ellyan "There are few weapons in your armoury fit for anything other than ornamentation. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'd like to find Mal."
"Of course," Ellyan nodded. He turned to the rest of their family who'd been watching quietly. "I think we will be needed at court to dispel any of the more foolish rumours."
Arel couldn't wait any longer and stood to head from the room. He wanted to wrap Mal in his arms and keep him there for at least a week. He hated the idea of a scar left on his skin but he supposed they had enough experience with scars by now.
Everything now could wait, he decided, until he'd found his husband and offered and recieved comfort in turn.