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Utowin paced, back and forth, outside of Easthies’ quarters.
This was not the first time he’d visited, and it would certainly not be the last. Though, and Utowin really hated to think about it, this time felt different. Easthies’ breakdown had resulted in at least thirteen witches with drained memories, not to mention their very own Vinanna, a Wise One and the Commander of the Knights.
Utowin wasn’t usually one for sentimentality, but his dear Captain had managed to worm his way inside of his heart. It had been three weeks since the events of Silver Eve, and Utowin could still feel Easthies’ phantom embrace. That afternoon, they had hidden away in an alley, far from the peering eyes of their contemporaries, and stolen kiss after kiss from one another.
Afterwards, Easthies reminded Utowin not to talk of it. To anyone, that is. Was it a crime if Utowin reminisced? Was it a crime if he closed his eyes at night, his bed cold where Easthies would only sometimes inhabit, and imagined that late afternoon sun as it disappeared behind the stone buildings of Ezrest. If he looked into the red sphere of a pyre-ball, he could go back to that time, and once again experience all of the sensations associated with Easthies’ love. It was a fleeting thing, lasting for as long as Easthies could offer it, which was never more than a few seconds at best. Still, Utowin relished in those seconds, and sometimes those minutes, stretching them out to feel like hours even as Easthies left his room, closing the door behind his slim form.
Utowin could feel himself falling into that pattern now, as he waited outside of Easthies’ rooms. His rooms, because, despite his crimes against his own kin that night, the Three Wise still declared him free to go. He had spent three days and two nights at the Medical Spire under Sinocia and Ermile’s tender care, of which he spent the majority of the time in a peaceful sleep. Utowin had, despite his own responsibilities after the attack, visited Easthies once. With their Captain in a medically induced slumber, Utowin had to take on the brunt of his duties in the aftermath. Not to mention Galga, who would have otherwise been the second-in-command, was technically no longer a knight.
Easthies and Vinanna would have to decide what to do with him…eventually.
Utowin thought it best to leave him in the care of his partner, Atwert, but there was no denying the whims of the Commander and Captain in matters like this. Utowin would only be the “second” for as long as it took Easthies to recover, and knowing him, that process would be coming to an end any day now. He had already started the recovery process with Ermile visiting him once a day, the healer helping Easthies stretch his stiff, unused body for an hour. After, he would have tea, prepared by the Great Hall’s sommelier. That part made Utowin laugh–the sommelier? Truly? What a pompous ass.
He loved him, though. Deeply and irrevocably loved him.
Was Easthies even capable of such love? Could he cherish it and protect it from harm? This was the first person Utowin had been this vulnerable with in…well, years. He was on the cusp of turning thirty, and had only been with one other person, some other guy in his home of Ghodrey. And that passing fad had been exactly that: a passing fad. Something to occupy his mind those few times he made the trip home to help his family prepare for the oncoming winter season. He would go hunting, and afterwards, with his skin still cold to the touch, he’d call on that man, and together they’d create a sort of warmth with one another. The friction of two human bodies going through the motions because for them, this was another day, or another night. After Utowin’s annual visits they would not speak to each other or see one another until the following winter, when they’d do it all over again.
What he had with Easthies, though, was the kind of love one fell on his knees for, wishing for it to never end. Utowin could not keep track of how many times he had sat upright in his bed, wondering if he should seek out his lover. Wondering if Easthies even considered Utowin his lover.
He supposed that he would find out the answer today. He resigned himself to it as his footsteps came to a slow stop just outside of Easthies’ door. He lifted his hand to knock, the wood cold against the bare skin of his knuckles, when he heard a hoarse, “Come in.”
Utowin hadn’t even knocked, let alone indicated he wanted to come in.
“How did–” Utowin uttered as he opened the door.
“You stopped your pacing, so I figured that you’d be mustering up the courage to enter.”
Easthies, oh, Eas, he looked abysmal.
He wore his slick, black hair in a loose braid that naturally fell over one shoulder. It was strange to see him without that golden band on his head, as it was strange to see him outside of their Moralis uniform. Instead of the sleek black jacket and leggings, he wore a loose-fitting white blouse, unbuttoned around his neck and collarbone. He was sitting up in his bed, which was a good sign, considering how often Utowin had seen him sprawled out and unconscious in his nightmares. After a moment, he cleared his throat, “You’re looking better, Eas.”
Easthies scoffed and rolled his eyes in that customary way of his. “You flatter me, Utowin.”
As he spoke, just the sound of his voice spurred to life the dormant gooseflesh under Utowin’s skin.
As Utowin closed Easthies’ bedroom door, he bit down on his lip, using the opportunity to look at anything but Eas’ battered body. Sure, the wounds dealt by the leech had disappeared that same evening, but it didn’t take away the human-made wounds Easthies had withstood from the likes of Vinanna and his own hubris. The cut on his cheek was still healing, and Utowin knew that the bruises on his back he sustained from Vinanna’s attacks were yellowed, if not still tinged with purple. Utowin himself had applied Sinocia’s healing salve to them once every three hours, losing sleep during the midnight applications. It meant Easthies could sleep, though; his slumbering subconscious aware that he was safe at Utowin’s side.
Utowin had killed for him, after all. He had erased memories. He had been coated in layers of dried and fresh blood with his pennant held in both hands. That same night, when Easthies was still under the influence of the children’s drugging, Utowin carefully and gently cleaned his beaten body. He wiped away the blood that had crusted under his nose and bottom lip, followed by a cloth soaked in the essence of lavender for his pummeled hands. The bruises were the worst part, but Sinocia had shown him how to apply that very salve before leaving it in his capable hands.
Did Easthies remember any of that? The evening vigils, the sleepless nights where Utowin pressed his ear to Easthies chest to ensure that he was still breathing.
“The twins came by earlier. They said you told them to leave,” Utowin chuckled, still lingering on the edge of Easthies white, linen covered bed.
“Incorrect. I told Ekoh to leave, but Etlan goes where his brother does.”
“Ahh…” Utowin nodded, unsure why he even brought it up. “And Luluci?” He asked, taking a step closer.
“She was here yesterday. She reported that things are going well in Ezrest, and that the rebuilding of the city has gone according to plan.” Easthies always had a rather matter-of-fact way of explaining things; a quality that Utowin found rather handsome.
He lingered at the end of Easthies’ bed before moving to the side, their fingers barely touching. “They are. The king is rather grateful that the witches have continued to help rebuild his city.”
“It is the least we can do.” Easthies lifted his finger, wrapping it around Utowin’s thumb.
“Eas–” Before he could realize what was going on, he was being pulled forward, propelled by the sudden strength of his bedridden friend.
He couldn’t get the words out. Not because he was frustrated or flustered, but because Easthies was too busy kissing him. Deeply and without reserve, for once, unafraid of lingering eyes or the chance that someone could or would see.
After all, the door was closed, and they were in Easthies’ personal rooms.
Utowin pushed away from the kiss to catch his breath, all the while, unaware that hot tears had sprung in his eyes.
“You’re crying, Utowin,” Easthies murmured, lifting a hand to wipe away his tears.
“No, I have dust in my eyes,” he scoffed, lifting his own hand to meet Easthies’.
He cupped his hand in his own, and whispered, “I love you, Easthies. Never do something like that ever again.”
By the time he realized what he’d said, it was too late to take it back.
Easthies did not tell Utowin to leave, though. If anything, he looked…shocked.
“I’m sorry,” Utowin blurted out, letting go of Easthies’ hand in the rush to make space between them.
Easthies flexed his hand, the same one which Utowin had been holding.
“Say it again, Utowin,” he said.
“Say what again?”
“Say that you love me.”
Utowin furrowed his brows. “What?”
“Say that you love me, please.”
Confused, Utowin acquiesced, “I love you.”
Was this some sick joke?
Utowin had begun to back away toward the door when he heard the whispered words of, “I love you too.”
And when he turned back to confirm that his senses had not betrayed him, he found that tears had sprung in Easthies’ eyes, too.
“Oh, stop your crying,” he chuckled, “tears don’t look good on you.”
Easthies, to his credit, let out a loud laugh at Utowin’s joke, and it was the prettiest sound the red-head had ever heard.
“Come back and kiss me again, Utowin,” Easthies commanded.
And Utowin, the ever loyal servant, did.