Enabling

Darktolight: At this point your exams and whatnot are probably done, but I was wishing you luck. I hope you do share your stories, I’d love to read them.

Anon: Thanks for your support through this whole thing.

Finale

It took a moment for Albel to register the change in lighting. Where there had been darkness before there was suddenly a crack of white light that burned his eyes. He had grown used to the blackness. He was certain that after their last attempts to get him to confess to crimes he did not commit that the interrogators had grown frustrated and decided to let him waste away in the torture chamber. He had apparently been wrong. But who came with this light? Was it more torture or was it aid? Were they offering him succor at last? Albel highly doubted it. He kept his head down and drew back inside of himself. Let them do what they wished to his body, he had learned how to drown the world out of his senses.

Woltar looked at the boy, hanging limply from the shackles. He frowned, hoping that he had not been too late. He had been trying desperately to sway Arzei and convince him to at least let Albel out of the dungeon. Let the child be put under house arrest and stripped of title and duties, but let him have his life. It had pained the count to fail his friend so much; he had promised Glou to look after Albel should anything happen. Albel might have gotten himself into such a mess, but as the boy’s guardian he had to keep him alive and well. And more than a promise to his dearly departed friend, Albel had grown to be a son to him. To see him imprisoned and tortured filled the aged captain with morose.

It alarmed the old man that Albel had not stirred when they entered. Even as he explained to the blue haired boy just why Albel was imprisoned the shamed captain did not raise his head. He had scanned the boy’s wounds when he entered, alarmed to see a puddle of crusty blood by the youth’s feet. There were new marks on Albel’s body, but they seemed to be healing, not very well though. Woltar thought he detected the stench of infection.

When he approached, the count gave the boy a gentle nudge. “I have an errand for you, boy.”

It was then that Albel awakened from his daze and lifted his head. The boy blinked, clearing bleary, bloodshot eyes. He took Woltar in, confused. He had apparently been expecting a harsher hand.

As the details of this ‘errand’ were being explained Albel found his heart racing. He was being released at last! It had taken that idiot Vox far too long to get his freedom and he would crucify the man with his tongue the next time he saw him. When the count informed him he was to work with the Aquarians the youth snorted in amusement.

“You must be joking!” He managed to laugh despite his pain, though the young captain knew that if they were there with Woltar, inside the dungeon, then the old man was certainly not joking. When he heard that there was a truce between Airyglyph and Aquaria he was baffled. “That warmonger actually agreed to a truce?”

That Vox would actually let go of his hate for Aquaria was an impossible thought. For a moment Albel wondered if the man had been demoted as well, or perhaps injured. Then again, perhaps the man had seen the fruitlessness of the war and decided to stop the circular cycle of bloodshed. Stranger things had happened. People changed. Or so he had heard. All of his musings were cut short when Woltar cleared his throat.

“Vox is no more.”

Albel froze. He didn’t think he had heard that right. He looked at the old man, confused, and received a pitying look. The same look everyone had given him after his father had passed. His stomach knotted. He wanted to laugh. Free of Vox already? Why, they hadn’t even been married a decade yet! His wishes had come true then. No more troublesome husband!

But Albel still found that he was sad, somewhere deep inside of him. The pitying expression Woltar had did nothing to sooth him.

“Dead?!” he burst out, then turned his fiery eyes to the other inhabitants of the cell. “Did they kill him?”

Woltar spoke more and he answered numbly. He heard himself answer and laugh at the old man, but the words meant little to him. He didn’t know what he was saying. It wasn’t until the count mentioned the Urssa Lava Caves that he started to pay attention again. They were going to fetch the Marquis? Albel laughed again. He knew it was all a joke! Vox would never have been defeated by the likes of those Aquarians. Perhaps the man was trying to trick him, make him think that he was dead so that when they saw each other again Albel’s anger would be curbed. Well his plan had backfired; Albel was angrier than before. What a trick!

He looked at Woltar again; the old man still looked serious. About what? Didn’t he know that Albel had figured out their little game?

The count insisted though. Eventually the man’s persistence and stoic expression got through to the youth. He tried to dwell on the fact that his husband was indeed dead. That thought, however, got pushed to the back of his mind when Woltar began talking about the importance of the mission he was being sent on. Albel nodded to himself. He could focus on the mission and perhaps , when he was done and had time, he would think of Vox.

Albel agreed to accompany the Aquarian’s to capture the Marquis. Anything to see sunlight again.

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Unfortunately for Albel, his mind did not want to agree with his desire to push his thoughts of Vox back until after the mission was over. He was given two days to recover before they would leave. While the others packed equipment and honed their skills in training Albel was to recover. His wounds made some of his party members nervous and Woltar demanded that he see a healer immediately after he was released. Albel scowled as he remembered the old man pushing him towards his former quarters in the castle, as if he couldn’t manage to get to the room himself. He did not need to be babied. He wasn’t so weak as to need the old man to take him by the hand and lead him to his bed and tuck him in. Which, to his utter disgust and chagrin, the count DID.

The healer came in shortly after, checking him over, probing his injuries, putting salve on his body and covering cuts with bandages. He was given several potions which, the youth admitted reluctantly, made him feel better.

Woltar went to his dresser and took out some new clothes for him. Apparently, even though he had been stripped of the title of captain and they had taken his room away in action, his possessions still remained in it. He had discarded the clothes he had been wearing in the prison, which were nothing more than soiled rags at that point. There was nothing more humiliating than being charged with treason unjustly other than being charged unjustly and then having to endure torture while also having to hang by the arms and stand in a pool of your own urine and feces. Disgusting.

Hours after the healer had left Albel went to bathe. Woltar had told him to stay in bed and eat the plate of food he had the cooking staff prepare, but he didn’t take orders from the senile old coot. The water felt nice. Hot and burning. It turned his skin red and washed away the remaining layer of filth that his hand toweling had not been able to rid him of. The young man sighed as he sank into the water, letting it seep into his body and ease his sore muscles. He took an hour to thoroughly wash himself, scarred from having to stand in his own filth for so long. By the time he was done Albel had scrubbed his skin raw and parts of it bled.

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Despite doctor’s orders, Albel found himself wandering the halls of the castle after his bath. He was walking about aimlessly, catching the scent of the lilac bathwater he had been submerged in every now and then. It brought an almost pleasant smile to his lips to no longer smell like shit.

After an hour or so of aimless travel his feet brought him to a familiar door; Vox’s former chamber. He entered and a guard looked up at him, saluted, then left. Albel stood by the doorway minutes after the guard had shut the door. He looked about, an odd feeling coming over him. He had felt it before, he knew that, but he had felt it long ago. Back when Glou died he thought. The youth looked around then walked to the bed and sat on its edge.

Despite his best efforts to avoid thought on the subject, Vox had come into his mind often in the hours after learning of his death. As he had been lying in bed, tossing and turning before deciding to bathe, Albel had reached some sort of nirvana about what Vox had done to him, setting him up to be imprisoned and all. He wasn’t angry so much, not anymore. He understood why Vox had acted as he had, even if it was a completely idiotic thing to do. Albel was never one for forgiving, and he found a great number of faults in how Vox dealt with the situation, but the one thing he could not fault the man on was acting out of--dare he say it--love.

Albel sighed and went to the man’s desk and began leafing through the papers on it. There were reports from spies and half formed battle strategies. He would let someone else deal with those; someone would be around to clean up the room and dispose of the man’s things.

He decided to sit. The young man looked around the small room. He contemplated taking some things for himself, but there was little that he needed and he was above trinkets and keepsakes. He had his choker still; Arzei didn’t seem interested in taking it back. It wasn’t like there were pictures of the two of them or family valuables to be passed down. Which reminded him…

Albel leaned back in the chair and brought his flesh hand up to cover his eyes. What was he to do with the children he had gotten off of Cordeillia? What was he to do with Cordeillia? Now that Vox was gone…as he though about the situation he was in the youth suddenly felt incredibly foolish. What had he been thinking, attempting to beget children from a concubine, and at such a young age? He had his whole life to find a woman of equal social status as he, that he could tolerate enough to bear children with and live with. Well, it was over and done with and he had three children now. A daughter and son to inherit his family name and another son to take Vox’s name.

After some thought the young man decided it would be best to cut Cordellia off. He would compensate the woman for the years she would have worked for him and Vox, but he did not desire to have her around any longer. As for the children themselves, he would rent out a house in Kirlsa and hire several servants to tend to them. Woltar’s mansion was HIS home and he had no time to watch over loud, annoying children. When they came of age perhaps he would allow them to live in the mansion as well. Until then, they would have to be content with occasional visits from their father.

The young man buried his head in his hands. What a fool he had been. He had grown too comfortable in his life with Vox. All the time they were together he was enabling the man to manipulate him and, in the end, bring about his destruction. He trusted the duke, which was his first mistake. He had learned early in his life not to trust anyone, and he had discarded that lesson like the densest of fools. By trusting the man Albel felt he had given power to his husband while leaving himself helpless when Vox turned that power against him. He had enabled the man to bring about his downfall and to deal him another crushing blow to his heart. That hurt more than any torture he had been subjected to in Airyglyph’s dungeons.

All that night Albel was deep in thought, kicking himself over his ridiculous actions. Marriage truly was a destructive force; he’d never done so many stupid things as when he was married to the duke. He woke early in the morning, while it was still dark, and returned to the man’s room. This time he went to the bed and lied down.

The young man stared at the wall. He was plagued by an empty feeling, like he had lost something of great importance to him. That was all in his idiotic head, he chided himself maliciously. He didn’t love Vox, hardly even cared for the man. So then why did it suddenly feel like his world had shifted, the same way it had when he had lost his father?

As he thought, a more forgiving part of him spoke up. Perhaps he was in shock over losing the man? Even if they weren’t close--or so he was saying--they still shared an intimate relationship. Perhaps he was in denial. That would explain why he was pushing thoughts of Vox away.

His brain was giving him a headache. No, he was pushing thoughts of Vox away because he had a mission and missions always came before personal problems. Any good soldier knew that. This mission meant his life, he had no time to dwell on someone who no longer had a life. Albel glared at the wall, finding new determination. He had to complete this mission, clear his name, and move on with his life. Then, and only then, would he think of Vox, if he felt like it.

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Distracting himself had become very easy to do. After retrieving the Marquis, Albel went on to help defeat the celestial invaders, and from there he went on to help his former traveling companions when they were cornered at HIS training facility (which resulted in a wonderful near death experience), and from there on in it was constant action. Even after seeing the celestial ships, a part of Albel did not believe that he had been in the presence of celestial beings, but after waking up on a space craft after being shot he quickly became a believer. They traveled from place to place on a most ridiculous mission---save the universe from deletion. He didn’t really know exactly what all of it meant, but all that mattered was his help was needed and he got to kill things.

They returned to Elicoor to find some doorway into what Leingod called the 4D world. They decided to take rest in Peterny before moving on to Mosel Dessert, where the portal apparently was. While the others rested Albel took a stroll around the town. He paused in the center of town and stared up at the stars; they seemed brighter than usual. An emptiness nagged at him, but he squashed it down, ignoring the feeling. He started to move again so that he wouldn’t start dwelling on unpleasant things.

The captain wandered to the town’s bar, feeling the need to down a drink or two. When he entered he was surprised to see a familiar face look up at him. He had assumed all of the maggots he was traveling with had long since gone to sleep. He had assumed wrong.

Cliff waved him over. For a moment the young man contemplated turning around and leaving, but ever since he had thought of going to the bar he had been craving a strong drink. He went over and sat beside the mammoth at the bar counter. They didn’t exchange greetings, in fact they barely talked as the amount of empty glasses began to accumulate on the counter top. By the time midnight rolled around the two men had drank a considerable amount of alcohol. It wasn’t enough to knock either of them down, but it was enough to lower their guards so that they could do something reckless.

When they returned to the inn Cliff caught hold of his wrist. Albel looked at him with his usual scowl. The man grinned and gestured with a nod of his head to the upstairs. For a brief moment the Elicoorian contemplated just walking away, as he had done when he had first walked into the bar, but it had been a while since he had been offered sex by someone he respected enough to consider a worthy bedmate. He nodded at Cliff and allowed himself to be pulled up the stairs and into the man’s room.

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As Cliff was braced above him, grunting as he thrust into Albel’s limp body, the young captain became lost in thought. It felt the same, he thought. There was the same strength and power as Vox, and yet it DIDN’T feel entirely the same… He wrapped his limbs around the Klausian. It wasn’t perfect…it wasn’t right…

Albel dug his claws deep into Cliff’s back and leaned forward to bite the man’s neck. The man moaned at the pain and thrust harder in retaliation. Albel fell back onto the bed. He shut his eyes, pain bubbling up inside of him. He squeezed his eyelids tightly then looked up at Cliff. The man had a blissful expression; he seemed to be enjoying himself. Albel resigned himself to close his eyes and pretend.

~THE END

Well, it’s been a long, sometimes grueling, ride, but it has come to an end. I have to thank my two anons for following the story and giving your reviews, which I love. But don’t fret, I’m sure I’ll write another story and my LJ occasionally gets updated with little ficbits. And if either of you have a fic idea I’m open to suggestions. It’s been great guys.