Date: Sat, 19 Apr 2003 19:52:55 -0700 (PDT)
From: Corrinne S <quasito_cat@yahoo.com>
Subject: Dark Wishes: Part One Installment Two: Chapters 4-6

Note: This is a gay themed fantasy novel about kings
and magic, love and war.  Although I will often allude
to sexual encounters, there are no scenes of sexual
acts for this is, by and large, a love story.  This
author claims exclusive copyright to the characters,
settings, and plot.  The first part includes some
characters approximately sixteen years of age who
would, I have been assured, be of the legal age of
consent in some places.

Dark Wishes

M.C. Gordon

Part One: Xoachin

Chapter Four:

     "You have never visited Aolane, have you?"
Ilafrain asked as they dismounted and started up the
long steps to the castle entrance.

     "No, M'Lord," Xoachin replied.  "I wanted to but
my father forbade me to study here.  Oh, Sire, you
were magnificent!" he said.  "My father fears no one
but you had him trembling in fright."

     "He would fear Miralen a great deal more than I
had not those welts and cuts on your back healed so
smoothly.  My brother king does not know that I have
brought you here or why.  I think it best he stays in
ignorance of how your father beat you.  He already
believes that your grandfather broke the covenant
between himself and your people.  His love for you
should restore that covenant.  But if he learns what
your father has been doing to you, I fear his
vengeance would be swift and sure.  Do you understand,
lad?"

     "Yes," Xoachin replied, his eyebrows raised.  He
was unaware that there was a conflict between his
family and the Qell.

     "I will see that you stay as long as possible.
Remember that I proclaimed great dismay in you.  You
must write to your mother and sisters often.  Tell
them that you are made to study endlessly, and are put
to hard tasks when your study ends each day."

     "Yes, Majesty," Xoachin said.

     "While you are here, Xoachin, you will call me
Ilafrain.  Only the household servants refer to us by
rank or title.  The other students, whom you will meet
on the morrow, call us by name."

     "Where is Miralen?" Xoachin asked for he saw no
sign of the High King as Ilafrain led him into the
castle and along ancient corridors.

     "At this hour of the day he is probably with his
warriors.  The training field is two hours hard ride
from here and he trains with them each day.  Their
training is as important to him as my responsibilities
are to me.  If there should be a war, the warriors
must know how to think and what actions to take if
they are to survive battle.  Miralen values each of
his men as much as I value every student who passes
through these halls.  The same, Resnaron experiments
with his grains to increase yield and knows which grow
well or poorly in certain provinces."

     They continued walking until Ilafrain stopped and
opened the great oak doors to a room.  "Come," he
beckoned, "here is where you will spend your days in
study."

     Xoachin was amazed at the size of the room.  Huge
shelves filled with scrolls lined the walls.  Young
people sat at tables and were busy reading or copying
scrolls.  Apprentices rushed in and out laden down
with information for their masters.

     "Here is all the knowledge of the ten kingdoms,"
Ilafrain said in a reverent voice.  "All that we have
been or ever will be is contained here.  Your work is
good, Xoachin," he said.  "I will reward Carvel for
his tutelage, perhaps assign him to the archives for a
time.  Some of these students would prosper under his
teaching.  I brought you here not only to rescue you
from your father's cruelty but because I also believe
you will gain in wisdom being close to so much
knowledge.  You have an inquisitive nature and a good
soul.  What you learn here will make you a much better
leader than the beatings your father gave you."

     "Enough," Ilafrain said, casting his left arm
casually over Xoachin's shoulder.  "You will need a
few days to settle before I actually put your mind to
work.  For now, you must bathe and make yourself
presentable for the evening meal.  Miralen will be
pleased to see you and the two of you can indulge
yourselves to your hearts' content."

     Xoachin began to blush and cast his eyes
downward.  Ilafrain quickly led him to a small sitting
room.

     "Is there a problem?" he asked gently.

     "I ... we ..., Sire?  Can you tell me what I must do
or what Miralen will expect from me?" Xoachin asked
shyly.

     Ilafrain raised one eyebrow in near disbelief.
"Do you mean you have never ...?  For the two years past
he has been proclaiming his love for you to all in
Aolane who would listen!  And you tell me that he has
never touched you?  Never fulfilled that love?"

     "No more than hidden embraces," Xoachin replied.

     Ilafrain pulled a chair forward and sat before
his legs could fail him.  "My brother king has more
patience than I, young lordling," he said, his voice
low and husky.  "You and I would have been lovers long
since had I seen you before Miralen stole your heart.

     I know not in what ways Miralen prefers to ...
love, for he is not to my taste in men.  Far to
arrogant to suit me," Ilafrain said.  He rose from his
chair and stood before Xoachin, reaching down and
lifting the young man's chin with one hand.  "If you
wish, I could show you those things that please me."

     Xoachin looked into Ilafrain's eyes and saw that
they had turned from pure silver to a deep, shining
blue.

     Ilafrain suddenly drew away.  "You tempt me,
lad," he said.  "I had best give you over to the care
of the castle steward."

     An hour later Xoachin eased himself from a hot
bath in front of a warm fireplace.  His hair and body
had been lathered and scrubbed by royal servants.  He
had refused to have his private parts cleansed by any
but himself, remembering the look of sheer desire he
had seen in Ilafrain's eyes.

     He was wearing a white woolen gown as the
servants dried his hair.  They had made him sit near
the hearth and one of the maids rubbed his nails with
a soft cloth until they shone.  Another ran a brush
through his hair until it crackled around his face
like bits of lightning.

     When they were finished, he dressed in the fine
black breeches and deep blue tunic that had been laid
out for him.  Ilafrain had chosen the tunic knowing
that it would cast a soft blue glow to the longer
silver tresses and turn the color of Xoachin's eyes
from violet to deep lavender.

     Unsure what to do next, he sat and waited for
word from Ilafrain.  He was pondering his unexpected
good fortune when he heard footsteps and muffled
voices approaching down the corridor.

     The door suddenly burst open and he heard
Ilafrain say, "I have a new student, Miralen, and I
think you would like to meet him."

     Miralen hesitated only a second before crossing
the room and taking Xoachin into his arms.  "Beloved,"
he whispered.

Chapter Five:

     "Do you think they will join us?" Resnaron asked
Ilafrain as they sat at the high table in the massive
dining room of Aolane that evening.

     "Would you?" Ilafrain asked in return.

     "I would," Resnaron replied, "if only for the
sake of appearance.  What must others think?"

     "They will think that Miralen is busy.  None but
a few of the servants know that the boy is here or who
he is.  Our brother king's own servants are loyal to
the death; you know that."

     "Still," Resnaron persisted, "I think they should
join us for our meal."

     "You are only jealous," Ilafrain said, "because
you allowed Frayne to return to his family."

     "His father was injured," Resnaron said.  "Frayne
was concerned for his mother and brothers."

     "How is Frayne's father?" a dark-haired young man
dressed in a deep red tunic asked as he sat near
Ilafrain.

     "He heals, Nels," Resnaron replied.  "The sickle
Hadwyn was using to harvest his wheat was old and not
properly kept.  It cut deep into the bone.  The
healers were hard pressed to save the leg from decay."
 The king shook his head in dismay.  "I have tried to
stress the importance of keeping such things in good
repair but it seems I have failed."

     "Nonsense!" Ilafrain said.  "I know Hadwyn.  He
is a useless old fool.  The only redeeming thing he
ever did was to lie with his wife and create Frayne."

     They stopped talking as servants brought platters
of meat and vegetables.  Bowls filled with soups,
sauces, and melted butter followed.

     "As I was saying," Resnaron began when the
servants withdrew, "Frayne will stay with his family
until Hadwyn mends."

     "Then you may never see Frayne again," Ilafrain
remarked.  "Hadwyn will play the part of the needy
father forever.  Nels," he said, turning his attention
to his current love, "use the utensils.  It is
distressing to watch you eat with your fingers."

     "Sorry," Nels started to say when Ilafrain
interrupted him.  "And do not talk when you have food
in your mouth."

     The lad blushed and ducked his head.  He
swallowed and said, "I will not do it again."

   Ilafrain drew in a deep breath and exhaled heavily.
 He knew it was his own fault for having fallen for a
back country lad with nothing more to offer than a
beautiful face and stunning body.  "How long have you
been here?" he asked.

   "Three weeks," Nels responded.

   "Do you wish to stay at least three more?" Ilafrain
asked.

   "Yes," came the tentative reply for the lad had no
idea what Ilafrain might expect for the hope of three
more weeks.

   "Good, then while I am about my business for the
next three weeks, you will spend your time learning to
comport yourself as a gentleman."

     Resnaron watched the exchange between Ilafrain
and the latest in a long string of handsome
companions.  Nels would last no longer than most for
Ilafrain was incapable of sustaining love for any
mortal being.  He would soon lose interest in the
stunning but dull lad and fine some worthy occupation
to ease the pain of sending him away.

   Resnaron sat back and pondered the differences
between the kings.  They were, all three, bound by the
same essence of life that had created them, having
come into existence with the land around them.  They
had no past or childhood.  They had come into life as
young men, full of the knowledge necessary to aid
mortal men survive in the harsh beginning of time.

     Resnaron knew that he lacked the charisma of
Miralen or Ilafrain.  Miralen protected the future of
the kingdoms -- Ilafrain the past.  Resnaron was left
to deal with the daily responsibility of ensuring that
crops were sown and harvested at the proper time.
Herds, whether they were equine, bovine, porcine,
fowl, or sheep and goat, had to be tended to and cared
for.  The kingdoms had need of food, shelter, and
transportation.  Someone had to be concerned with the
here and now.

     He held Ilafrain in slight contempt, for his
brother lord was fickle of heart.  Ilafrain would find
a new love several times a year; grow bored and send
the lad away; then lock himself into the archives
while he lamented the loss of each.  Still, Resnaron
had to admit that the archives thrived during
Ilafrain's self-inflicted mourning.

     Miralen, while physically imposing, was
tormented.  He could remember the name of each man who
had ever died in battle protecting the kingdoms and it
caused him nightmares at times.  Resnaron could not
remember the last time  Miralen had allowed himself to
fall in love.

     Resnaron sighed as he watched Ilafrain try to
teach Nels how to handle utensils.  He deeply missed
Frayne, the golden-haired man who had been his lover
the past ten years.  Frayne understood him and enjoyed
traveling with him to remote parts of the kingdoms in
search of new strains of grain, a solution for the
blight that periodically swept through the orchards,
or a new development in one of the herd populations.
He sincerely hoped that his love would return soon to
Aolane.

     As Resnaron sat pondering, and Ilafrain tried
once again to stop Nels from fishing particles of meat
from his soup with his fingers, Miralen and Xoachin
entered the great dining hall.

     "This is my brother king, Resnaron," Miralen said
to Xoachin as they arrived at the table.

     Xoachin bowed in respect to the king he had not
yet met.

     "A sycophant!" Resnaron exclaimed.  "You have
brought a sycophant to court!"  He pushed back from
the table, looked at Xoachin in contempt, and left in
a mighty huff.

     "Please excuse him," Ilafrain said.  "Any good
grace he had has escaped him."  He summoned a page.
"Send a message to the captain of my guard.  Frayne is
to return to Aolane posthaste.  I will not stand any
more of Resnaron's ill humors."

     Xoachin stood, greatly dismayed, until Miralen
said, "Sit next to Nels.  I have business to discuss
with Ilafrain while the two of you get to know each
other."

     Xoachin sat in the chair next to the dark-haired
lad and smiled shyly at him.  "Have you been here
long?" he inquired.

     "Three weeks," Nels replied.  "Frayne, that's
Resnaron's companion, is visiting his family.  His Pa
whacked a hole in his leg."  He picked up a piece of
tuber with his fingers and dipped into a rich sauce.

     Xoachin stared in amazement.  He had never seen
anyone do such a thing and wondered if he would be
expected to do the same.  He was greatly relieved when
Ilafrain reached over and gently smacked the back of
the young man's hand.  "Do not do that again," he
heard the king say.

     Nels blushed at the gentle rebuke and Xoachin
felt uncomfortable for him.  "Where is your home?" he
asked.

     "I used to live in the woods," Nels replied.

     "That must be an interesting place to live,"
Xoachin said.  "I grew up in a small fortress."

     "Really?" Nels asked.  "That must have been nice.
 I lived in a hut with my parents and too many
brothers and sisters to remember.  My pa is a
woodcutter.  What does yours do?"

     "My father is a duke," Xoachin replied, "and I
have four sisters.  Did Ilafrain bring you here
because your father beat you?"

     Nels put down the utensil he was trying to hold
properly and looked at the golden-hued lad next to him
in shock.  "No," he said, "my pa would never beat any
of us.  Did your pa beat you?"

     Xoachin suddenly remembered that Miralen was not
to know of the cruelty he had suffered at Bellard's
hand and said, "No.  I just wondered.  Oh, and you can
hold that better if you do not wrap your fist around
it."

     He reached over and took Nels' hand in his own,
turning the tined utensil so that it fit better
between Nels' fingers and thumb.  "Thus," he said as
he picked up his own and lifted a piece of meat
gracefully to his plate.

     Nels watched Xoachin as they talked and ate,
careful to copy each movement his new friend made.
Xoachin quietly showed him how to cut his bread and
meat, how to sip his soup from the rounded spoons, and
how to dab at the corner of his mouth with the piece
of linen provided.

     When the meal was finished Ilafrain rose and held
out his hand for Nels.  "I think I have found you a
tutor," he said.  "Would you mind spending an hour
each day with Nels?" he asked Xoachin.

     "Not at all," Xoachin replied, "if that is all
right with Miralen."

     The king smiled and replied, "I am busy each day,
love.  During that time you are under Ilafrain's care.
 If he wishes you to teach Nels courtly manners, I
have no objection.  Perhaps this lad will last a bit
longer than the others if he has you for a friend and
guide."

     The two young men, who had become fast friends,
began to plan what they would do the next day as the
kings led them up the wide staircase and down the
corridor that contained their apartments.

     "Frayne should be here late tomorrow," Ilafrain
said to Miralen.  "Perhaps a night or two in his arms
will soften Resnaron's ill humor.  I grow weary of his
behavior and tonight's rudeness to Xoachin was greatly
out of line.  Frayne's member up his ..."

     "Ilafrain!" Miralen exclaimed, "watch what you
say!  I realize you have had an unusual number of
lovers in four hundred years, but these two lads are
young and unaccustomed to your graphic speech."

     They had reached the door to Ilafrain's apartment
and he took Nels by the hand.  "Miralen," he said, "I
do believe that you are a bit of a prude."

     As Ilafrain and Nels disappeared behind the oak
doors of the great apartment Miralen turned to
Xoachin.  "Is your room sufficient?" he asked.

     "Ever so much better than my old room," he
replied.  "But it is not the room I wish."

     "Where else would you sleep?" Miralen asked.  "It
is the finest of the guest rooms in the castle."

     "If I may, I would like to sleep with you," the
lad replied as he looked up at the man he loved.  His
eyes were deep with the reflection from his tunic, his
silver hair cascading over his shoulders.

     "Do you have any idea what might happen?" Miralen
asked.  His breath quickened for he longed to show
Xoachin just how much he loved him but would not ask
for his surrender.

     "Not exactly," Xoachin replied.  "But I love you
and wish to show you that love.  I know how it is
between men and women.  I have imagined how it might
be between men.  And I have dreamed of how it would be
with you."

     Miralen leaned down and picked Xoachin up in his
arms.  "Then you shall know before this night is
over," he whispered as he carried his love to his own
apartment.

Chapter Six:

     Xoachin woke the next morning with a song in his
heart.  Thanks to Ilafrain and, he suspected, Captain
Huton, he was at last free of his father and safe in
Aolane.  He had known a night such as he had never
dared imagine, for Miralen had gently introduced him
to love.

     The sun had not yet begun to rise and the stone
walls of the room radiated the coolness of the night
before.  But the bed was warm and he was about to
drift back into blissful sleep when he felt the King
stir beside him.

     Strong, warm arms pulled him into a gentle
embrace and Xoachin heard Miralen whisper, "Was it as
you thought it would be?"

     Xoachin felt himself blush and had no answer.

     "You were worth waiting for," Miralen whispered,
his breath passing lightly across Xoachin's ear.  "I
knew the first time we met that we would become
lovers."

     "You did?" Xoachin asked, rolling to his side to
face the man he loved.  "How did you know?  Do you
really remember when we first met?"

     "You were hiding behind the bushes in the garden,
feeding bread crumbs to the doves."

     "I had to hide," Xoachin replied.  "My father
thought the household must consume every bit of food
produced by the kitchen staff.  But I never developed
a taste for stale bread and the doves considered it a
treat."

     Miralen chuckled and held his love more tightly.
"It also made a wonderful place to hide and kiss you,
for you were too young then for more than kisses."

     Their quiet reflection was interrupted as the
door to the bedchamber burst open and Ilafrain
entered.  "The two of you look cozy," he said.

     Xoachin thought that Ilafrain would surely turn
and leave when he realized the two were still in bed.
Instead of leaving, Ilafrain approached them and
Xoachin quickly drew the blanket to his chin.

     "You need not be so shy," Ilafrain said to him.
"I have seen every possible variation of what you seek
to hide."

     He turned his attention to Miralen and asked,
"Did you leave the lad capable of movement?  I
promised him at least one more day to settle in before
he begins his studies but the cook is preparing duck
eggs for our morning meal.  I was wondering if I could
borrow him to show Nels the proper way to eat them.  I
truly do not wish to see him dip his fingers into
unsuspecting yolks."

     Miralen slipped from beneath the covers and
crossed the room to retrieve a long tunic from a stool
near the fireplace.  Xoachin could see him in the glow
emanating from the dying fire.  There seemed to be no
difference between the Kings until Ilafrain joined
him.  In the final gasps of light from the fire, the
differences were astounding.

     Miralen was taller and heavier.  There was no fat
to be found upon him, only the muscles in chest and
arm expected in a man who wielded weapons on a
battlefield.  His thighs and calves were well
developed from centuries of guiding giant war-horses
with his legs.  He wore his long black hair in two
plaits that fell across his shoulders and reached
nearly to his waist.

     Ilafrain was wearing only breeches and a cloak
thrown around his shoulders against the early morning
chill.  He removed he cloak as he crossed to the
fireplace and stood in stunning contrast to Miralen.
His skin was alabaster white next to Miralen, who had
developed a slight tan over the years.  He was lean
and muscular, but not so much as his brother king.
His cheekbones were, if possible, more angular and
higher set.  Ilafrain's hair was unbound and cascaded
down his back to his hips.

     The only true similarity, the one that did not
change, was their eyes.  The dying fire reflected from
them and they shone deep and unfathomable silver.
Xoachin had never acknowledged, until he saw those two
sets of eyes, that the Qell were indeed pure magic.
Most men would not look directly into those glowing
points of silver, for the nature of the Kings was not
understood.  But Xoachin had no fear of them and knew
two things as the two turned to return his look with
gentleness: he was protected by one and greatly loved
by the other.

     "Well?" Miralen asked, "can you move?"

     Xoachin bounded from the bed and snatched his
long tunic, holding it in front of himself.  "Yes," he
replied, "and I would be most happy to spend the day
with Nels.  I think we might become friends if he
learns courtly manners and is allowed to stay," he
added, almost challenging Ilafrain.

     "What is this?" Ilafrain asked with a chuckle.
"The pup bares his teeth?  Very well, young pup, Nels
may stay so that you might have a friend.  But see
that he learns to please me in ways other than the
obvious."

     "I had not realized that you needed a friend your
own age," Miralen said when Ilafrain had left them.

     "You must be about your kingly business," Xoachin
replied.  "I would like a friend to help pass my time
while you are busy."

     "You will soon meet the apprentices and other
students," Miralen responded.  "Surely you will make
friends among them.  They are much closer to your
station than a lowly woodcutter's son."

     "I know," Xoachin said, "but I think Nels needs a
friend.  He is not at all a dullard, only unaccustomed
to court.  As we spoke last night I had the feeling
that he is afraid Ilafrain will send him back to the
forest."

     "My love," Miralen said as he helped him finish
dressing, "that is the one thing he would not do.  He
never sends a lover away without increasing his
position in life.  He might apprentice Nels off to the
cook or the horse master, perhaps the steward, but not
back to his father's hut.  Ilafrain cannot love, but
he is capable of deep and abiding fondness.  His
promise to keep young Nels here to be your friend is
also a promise to himself to see that this one
receives special treatment.  The very fact that he
asked you to tutor him in manners shows that he feels
something for Nels and wishes him to stay."

     Xoachin and Nels passed the day pleasantly.  Nels
was indeed, as Xoachin had remarked, not dull.  He
earnestly sought to follow Xoachin's lead.  The young
heir to Lippize patiently showed him how to hold a
knife and butter the bread still hot from the oven.
Xoachin slowly cut his sausages and eggs so that Nels
could copy him.  Nels mirrored each movement Xoachin
made, from sipping freshly churned buttermilk to the
number of times each bite was chewed.

     They slowly explored the great fortress castle
together, discovering dusty corridors most likely
forgotten by even the Kings.  They gazed upon finely
wrought tapestries that showed past events since the
beginning of time, and marveled at the beauty of the
castle gardens from windows on the topmost floor.

     "You have never seen any of these places?"
Xoachin asked, noting Nels' reaction to each new
discovery.

     "Not before today," Nels answered.  "I felt I
would be snooping if I wandered around the castle."
He paused briefly before turning amber colored eyes to
Xoachin.  "I am pleased that we are friends," he said.

     They were startled nearly out of their wits as a
great voice boomed at them, "What are you doing here?"

     They turned from the window and faced Resnaron.
Red-faced, as if they had been caught in some
mischief, they began to stammer an explanation when a
commotion below caused the King to turn and flee
swiftly from the room.  Xoachin and Nels could hear
his boots tapping quickly on the stone steps of the
great stairway as he made his way downward.

     "What do you suppose that is all about?" Xoachin
asked.

     "His beginning to scold us or his sudden
retreat?"

     "Both, I suppose," Xoachin said.

     "I do not know," Nels responded, "but I would
like to know why he suddenly left.  I was expecting a
thorough tongue-lashing."

     The two made their way as quickly and quietly as
possible down the staircase, for they were still young
enough to be filled with boyish curiosity.  They
stopped at the final landing and stared first at the
scene below, and then at each other.

     Resnaron was being held in a tight embrace, his
head resting on one shoulder of a huge man.  The
strange blonde was gently running his fingers through
Resnaron's hair and whispering something into his ear.
 Xoachin and Nels watched as the stranger cupped one
hand beneath Resnaron's chin and brought their lips
together.  The King seemed to melt into the embrace.

     "Who is that?" Xoachin asked.

     "That, dear boy," they heard Ilafrain say behind
them, "is Frayne."

     The difference in Resnaron was as night and day
as they took their evening meal.  His sullen humor had
vanished at the return of his love.  Frayne's light
conversation dominated the meal and the two youngest
were enthralled with his tale of his recent visit
home.

     "My father is an old fool," he said.  "He kept my
brothers at home long past a decent time.  I had three
of them married while I was there.  They have little
sense so I married them to chits who have at least
some ability to think.  They will sire healthy
children and learn to do an honest day's work.  The
other three are betrothed and will marry when they are
of age.  My mother now has a decent girl to help her
with her work.  I will see that she and my youngest
brothers are fed, but I told my father that he will
tend the fields as he should or he will starve."

     "What did he say?" Xoachin asked in awe.

     "What could he say?" Frayne responded.  "He does
as I require or he starves.  And you are?"

     "I wondered when you would stop talking long
enough for introductions," Ilafrain said with a smile.
 "Allow me to present Xoachin."

     "At last," Frayne replied as he stood and reached
across the table to take Xoachin's hand.  "I had begun
to fear that you were nothing more than a myth."

     "And this is Nels," Ilafrain continued.

     "This would be your latest paramour?" Frayne
inquired.  "Welcome, Nels."  Sensing some uncertainty
in the young man he added, "We will do our best to see
that you are with us for a long time."

     He wove a spell, did Frayne.  He was not made of
magic but possessed a spirit that enveloped all around
him and the two young men were quickly set at ease.
The meal continued with more of Frayne's conversation,
enjoyed as much by Miralen and Ilafrain as by their
lovers.

     When they had finished eating, Frayne turned to
Resnaron and held out his hand.  "Come, beloved," he
said.  "The night grows old and we have been too long
apart."

     To the astonishment of Xoachin and Nels, Resnaron
blushed and rose from his chair.

     "I do not understand," Xoachin said as he looked
at Miralen.

     "Frayne commands their relationship," Miralen
explained.  "Resnaron may be a king, but he answers to
Frayne in all but kingly duties."

To be continued.

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