Original Stories Fan Fiction ❯ Continuum ❯ This Time Imperfect ( Chapter 3 )

AN: This chapter is for Qui, whose amazing-ness inspired my lazy rear to work on this chapter again. Twice. Enjoy.

 

Chapter Three: This Time Imperfect

 

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For days, months, years after it had taken place, Cerasus-regna knew he would remember taking his marital vows. He would remember the joyous screaming of the crowd, Flamma-regi's smug grin, and the fierce guilt that tore at his heart when he proclaimed, “I do.”

 

Forever would he recall the way the ink of his still fresh signature shone on the document that legally bound him to Lady Damonica, the fatherly pat on the back he received from Lord Singor, and the absence of Calcifex amongst all the to-do.

 

Dusk had long since fallen over Laedel, and the post wedding parties had yet to subside in the streets. Somewhere in the celebration, his mother, father-in-law, and new wife were still enjoying themselves, but Cerasus had escaped the hubbub as soon as possible, citing a headache and fatigue. He had immediately made his way to Calcifex's room, hoping the wizard would be there so he could… what, exactly? The king was unsure why he needed to see Calcifex so badly, but that mattered little compared to the huge scale of his need itself.

 

Unfortunately, the dark-haired man was nowhere to be found. Not even Sidereus, who had left the sanctity of his pocket watch to talk to Cerasus, knew where the wizard had disappeared to. Disappointed and upset, the boy king had since holed himself up in his quarters - he and his wife's quarters, now - to sulk. Calcifex was more than likely furious, or else incredibly distraught, and there was no telling what he was doing in such a state of mind. Blue eyes wandered to the bedside table, where a single beautiful flower lay innocently on its side.

 

It was a promise, Cali had said. Promises required faith to keep them alive. Cerasus did not want to lose confidence in his lover, no matter how dire the circumstances. He put a hand over his heart, filled with love for the wizard, and vowed to have faith that Calcifex would not forsake his promise.

 

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The shadowy corners of the simple, scarcely furnished room echoed with the guttural groans emanating from the occupants of the bed in the center of the far wall. Their sweaty, slick forms slid over one another endlessly in a dance whose steps were erratic and unpredictable. One pushed, the other pulled. Tongues escaped from their hiding places to deftly touch necks, stomachs, and thighs. Nimble fingers trailed invisible tattoos over soft flesh, and as one long digit slid easily into her warm opening, the petite woman under the charcoal-haired wizard screamed her ecstasy for the city to hear. This man, though his breath reeked of alcohol and his eyes held no real passion, was a master of pleasure, and that was all she cared about. After all, if she was the only one who reached release, she got the feeling he would barely care, so distracted did he appear to be.

 

And indeed, Calcifex could hardly summon the passion to be concerned with the fact that not only was he nowhere near aroused, but he couldn't even remember what he had done to the girl beneath him five minutes ago. But it must have been good, if the flush in her cheeks and the wetness of her folds was anything to go by.

 

The simple fact was that the task at hand was just that: a chore, a deed done to distract himself from any thoughts of Cerasus, Damonica, or Flamma-regi. His bed partner had approached him in the pub he had stumbled into and asked him to come home with her. He had agreed for the plain reason that it was the only thing he could think to do. He certainly could not return to the palace; the remnants of the wedding were sure to remain there, and he couldn't bear the thought of encountering anyone he knew at the moment.

 

Somewhere in the back of his mind, however, he knew that what he had chosen to occupy himself with instead would cause far more trouble later. The repercussions were going to be enormous, and already he was loathing himself for the ease with which he betrayed the king. And for what? For a quick fuck that would bring him no pleasure, no satisfaction, and a whole mess of guilt. For a halfway decent-looking girl whom he cared nothing about. It was despicable, and in that vein, so was he.

 

It was almost as if time had regressed into the days when the wizard first came to Laedel. Cerasus did not belong to him, they slept in separate quarters, and Calcifex was screwing a woman on the side. Of course, he did not intend to make this more than a one-time affair, but that hardly made it less disgusting.

 

The woman under him - what was her name again? - screamed something unintelligible as she released, and Calcifex immediately withdrew his hand from her, wiped it on her sheets, and got up. He hadn't even removed his shoes throughout the ordeal, so without a backwards glance he retraced his steps through her house and was out in the street within seconds.

 

The sounds of some late parties could still be heard, although it seemed that most of the celebrations had broken up by now. A quick look at the sky told him that there were probably still a couple hours until dawn. Resigned to the fact that he had nowhere else to go, Calcifex finally made his slow trek back towards the castle. Its slender towers loomed in the distance, their dark shapes interrupted here and there by pinpricks of light that came from the illuminated windows. Most of these lights were situated in the north and west towers, where most of the palace staff lived, while the south and east towers remained largely unlit. There was, however, one window that shone on the east tower, and Calcifex knew exactly what room it belonged to. Cerasus' study. It wasn't a place that the king visited often. Most of his royal duties were seen to in his parlor or the great hall. But whenever Cerasus was feeling particularly down, he retreated to his study and wouldn't open the door for anyone except Calcifex. The fact that the boy was in there was one that the wizard didn't know how to take, as a good sign or a bad one. It meant both that the king was distressed - which was definitely bad - and that he wasn't in his bedroom doing things with Damonica - undoubtedly good.

 

And if the king was alone and upset, Calcifex most certainly wanted to comfort him. On the other hand, he severely doubted he could last one minute in Cerasus' presence while the weight of what he had just done sat on his mind. He would inevitably break down and confess his sin, and there was no telling how Cera would react. This thought slowed his feet to a snail's pace, his reluctance to face the reality of his decision apparent in his gait.

 

Yet no matter how long it took for him to arrive at the palace the sad truth was that somehow, some way, Calcifex would have to inform the king of what had transgressed. The situation was unavoidable. And while Cerasus was probably the most kind and forgiving creature Cal had ever known, how many times could he ask the boy to overlook his transgressions? He had already done so many more times than the wizard ever expected he would. After the horrible fiasco involving Flamma-regi - which almost cost Calcifex his life - Cal had, as promised, admitted to every one of his past liaisons, both in Laedel and out of it. To say Cera was upset would have been an understatement; the king had nearly suffered a heart attack when Calcifex estimated, cringing, that he had most likely fathered around forty children in his time. And yet in spite of all that Cerasus had not forced Calcifex to leave, had not even said anything remotely condescending about the wizard's actions. He acted almost as though Cal's past didn't affect him, but that idea was absurd. Who wouldn't be put off by their lover's more than sordid past, especially if it harbored misdeeds like the ones Calcifex got involved in? Would this single, newest mistake be the thing to finally break the king's patience? Calcifex looked up at the looming figure of the palace, only fifty yards away now, and prayed to any gods that were listening that this would not be so.

 

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“Cerasus-regna? May I come in, Your Majesty?”

 

It was Damonica. Or rather, Damonica-regi now. Her soft, bell-like voice was easily recognizable, unlike any other the king had heard. She knocked ever so lightly on the door to his study, unerringly polite in a perfect and maddening way.

 

Cerasus wanted to hate her, wanted to think her unseemly and awful, but that was impossible. Damonica-regi was charming and lovely in every way, the picture of a perfect lady and queen. His country's people already adored her. He rather thought that, if he weren't already so in love with Calcifex, he might find her enchanting too. Still, there was just a likeability about her that he couldn't ignore, and so it was with resolved reluctance that he called out, “Yes, come in.”

 

The door swung open, and Cerasus had to hold in a gasp. Damonica had not come alone.

 

Flamma-regi stood beside her, smiling like she had been all day long. “Good evening, my son. You really shouldn't be holed up in here by yourself on your wedding night, you know. It's not very prudent.” The woman swept into the room, the new queen following behind, and stopped a few short steps away from Cerasus. “In any case, I suspect you won't want to be here much longer once you've heard what I have to say.” With these words Flamma cast a pleased look at Damonica that Cera couldn't quite interpret. He had a feeling, however, that he would scarcely enjoy its meaning once he learned it. He rarely got any joy from the things his mother had to tell him these days.

 

“You are a true king now, Cerasus,” Flamma-regi said, adopting a regal tone. Cerasus wanted to argue; he didn't feel anything like a true king now. He felt rather powerless actually. Hardly a man, much less a monarch - but he felt it would be a good decision not to say this out loud.

 

“You have your country and your queen,” the woman went on. “There is truly only one thing you lack, my son, but this necessity is one that can be easily obtained, given the proper… effort.” Another furtive glance at Damonica trailed her sentence.

 

Dreading what the answer would be, the king asked, “And what, dear Mother, am I missing?”

 

Flamma smirked. Her next words practically rolled off her lips, as if she was enjoying the feel of them falling into the air. “An heir.”

 

The world might have ended, and Cera doubted he could feel worse than he did at the moment. He guessed his anguish showed on his face because soon Damonica was saying, reassurance thick in her tone, “We needn't try anything soon, my lord, if you would prefer.”

 

He could tell she thought him embarrassed, perhaps even frightened, and wished those were his only problems. How could he explain to his wife that he would rather remain abstinent for the remainder of his life than have sex with anyone other than Calcifex?

 

But a cold voice cut through his thoughts and Cerasus had no more time to think on the matter.

 

“True,” Flamma-regi was saying, gray eyes like pewter. “But do not forget this, my son: your duty to this kingdom means much more than any misplaced obedience to your heart.”

 

The words hit Cerasus like an arrow through his chest. They were stark enough on their own, but somehow his mother also managed to convey an infinite number of other messages in the piercing gaze she pinned him under. She knew without a doubt what his mind was filled with. Her eyes swept over his face once, tearing all his poorly constructed walls apart, before she turned swiftly and exited the room. With a small smile and a curtsy, Damonica-regi followed suit, closing the door on her way.

 

But it was only a few silent minutes before another knock signaled the arrival of one more visitor.

 

“Cera?”

 

The king's heart jumped into his throat at the familiar voice. “Come in.”

 

Calcifex stepped in, disheveled and looking rather worse for the wear, but all that concerned Cerasus was the fact that he was here and alive, and oh, gods, it was so nice to see him after a day suffered without his presence. Immediately he rose from his seat to envelope the wizard in his arms.

 

“Thank the heavens you're home,” he whispered, clutching at Cal's back and inhaling deeply. The older man smelled of booze and strange places but underneath the rank odor was the comforting, spicy scent that was unique to Calcifex alone. “I was so worried when you didn't show up all day… I mean, I know you didn't want to… to watch, but…”

 

Calcifex wanted to collapse. He desired nothing more than to simply fall to the floor, unconscious, and forget the entire day. But in truth he didn't deserve the relief of nothingness; even now with Cerasus whispering such sweet sentiments into his ear he could feel his guilt suffocating him. If he didn't confess soon he knew he would explode later, and he had already resigned himself to the inevitable, so there was no use in putting it off.

 

Reluctantly, but gently, he pushed the king away to an arm's length and stared him seriously in the eye. “I need to tell you something, Cera.”

 

The wizard's tone was so utterly grave that terror instantly welled up in Cerasus. “No,” he said desperately, “Let's not talk now, please, Cali? Can't we just sit down, or… Or something?” Anything, he added in his head. Anything but talking about whatever it was Calcifex wanted to say, because the king could already discern that he did not want to hear it.

 

Cal sorely wanted to accept Cerasus' offer, but his conscience wouldn't allow it. He shook his head. “I have to tell you this.”

 

“Please, Cali, I don't want to talk. Please, just-“

 

“I'm sorry, Cera. I need to.”

 

The king was close to panicking, but he knew Calcifex wasn't going to let him get away with not hearing him out. He dropped back into his chair and replied in a tiny voice, “Okay.”

 

Cal was simultaneously relieved and disappointed when Cerasus gave in. Part of him wanted just to get the ordeal over with, while the other longed to put it off as long as possible. But now he had Cerasus' attention, and the longer he failed to admit to his crime, the worse the repercussions would be. With a deep breath, he started, “I went to a pub this evening, after walking around for a good number of hours.”

 

He walked slowly over to the other lone chair in the room and sat. “I, ah… I got rather sloshed, actually. I wanted to try forgetting what was happening back here, I suppose.” He grimaced as if recalling a particularly unpleasant memory.

 

“And… It was probably a couple hours more after that when this, um… Girl… approached me.” It was amazing how no one but Cerasus could make Calcifex forget all his well developed articulating skills and feel like a disciplined child. “She… asked me to come home with her.”

 

Cerasus had been so sure that Calcifex was about to tell him he no longer wanted to be together that he found it a little harder than usual to realize what the wizard was actually telling him. He didn't seem to be confessing his desire to leave, so what was he saying? A girl in a pub wanted to take him to her home…?

 

… Oh.

 

Cerasus' heartbeat escalated to a war drum tempo. He stared at Calcifex, who was studying the floor with apparent fascination.

 

“Did you go with her?”

 

With excruciating slowness, Cal nodded.

 

The king realized that his next question could damn them both, but he was so worried that he couldn't contain it.

 

“Did you fuck her?”

 

The vulgar word spilled from his mouth without his permission, making Calcifex's head snap up in shock. His green eyes widened, and without thinking he answered, “Yes.”

 

Cerasus gasped, although deep in his heart he had known what the wizard would say ever since he had mentioned the girl. Calcifex clapped a hand to his mouth; the admission had been startled out of him. He had meant to tell Cerasus in a much gentler way, but that was all blown to hell now. Before he knew was he was doing, Calcifex had sprung to his feet and crossed the room, dropping before the king with his fingers entangled in his blue robes.

 

“I'm so, so sorry, Cera, you must know this. It was a mistake - a horrible one, I know, and I can't make excuses, but… Gods, it meant nothing. I was just trying to get the wedding as far from my mind as possible and it'll never, ever happen again-“

 

He was rambling, he knew, but Cal would say anything to make his lover understand exactly how bad he felt.

 

Cerasus didn't know how to react. Here was proud, magnificent Calcifex, on his knees and begging for forgiveness for betraying the king. Again, a voice murmured in his head. This was the second time the wizard had been unfaithful, the second time a woman had come between them. The first, his mother, and now… Some unnamed peasant girl who had to do no more than wander in off the street and offer up a good time. The knowledge made him physically sick; his stomach rolled unpleasantly, but not, he realized, in hurt alone.

 

No, the burning, bubbling sensation he felt building was different than hurt. It was substantially more… inspiring.

 

In fact, the unknown emotion was undoubtedly the source of his reply: “Shut up.”

 

Calcifex stopped talking immediately. His mouth fell slack and he stared at the younger man before him, stunned.

 

The king, however, was not returning his gaze. His fists and eyes were clenched tightly closed, and he shouted, “Just shut up, Calcifex! I don't want to hear your excuses, your apologies, any of it!”

 

Cerasus shot to his feet, face flushed, wrenching his robes from Cal's grasp. “Leave. Me. Alone!”

 

He took off without a backwards glance, slamming the door to his study behind him. His legs had a mind of their own, and they were already running, carrying him to a destination he wasn't aware of until he halted, panting, in front of the entrance to his bedroom.

 

Not allowing himself time to second guess his decision, Cerasus entered his quarters. Damonica was there, as he suspected she would be, sitting up in their bed with a book in her lap. She looked up, surprised, at his arrival. “My lord?” She took in his distressed appearance. “Are you well?”

 

Of course he wasn't, he wanted to say. He was awful, horrible, probably in the worst condition of his life. His lover had cheated on him in a drunken foray with a common slut because he had been forced to marry against his will by his mother who had also once screwed his boyfriend. Frankly, Cerasus' life had gone to pot.

 

But none of that came out of him. Instead, he stumbled forward, discarding his outer robe on the floor. Damonica-regi was confused.

 

“Your Majesty?”

 

He was on the bed now, sitting up on his knees while his shaking hands struggled to undo the buttons of his shirt. After a tension-filled handful of minutes he managed to remove the offending article, and it too found a home on the carpet. The queen had yet to stop staring at him, but she had closed her book and set it aside. The light of early dawn shone through the windows, falling on her form, and Cerasus took a moment to observe her.

 

Her black hair cascaded down her neck and over her shoulder in waves. One errant lock curled away from the main bunch to nestle tantalizingly in the valley between her breasts. The tip of it rested just above the place where her dressing gown began. In the meager light, her eyes were almost obsidian, and the dark shade was such a glaring contrast from the one he usually saw in his bed that he almost hesitated. Almost.

 

But then the wizard's confession echoed in his head again and all his inhibitions were dropped on the floor with his clothes.

 

“We need an heir,” he said, and all through the dawn he learned what a spectacular motivator anger truly was.

 

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A million thanks to the wonderful reviewers of chapter two:

dolly-dear - I'm sorry! They got married; I hope you aren't too upset with me.

Rachizzle - Thank you! Hope you enjoyed this.

Qui - Was this shocking enough? I do hope so. Thank you very much for reading, and I hope to hear from you again.

 

Constructive criticism is, as always, welcome.

 

Disclaimer: Continuum is a fictional work, purely of my imagination. Characters/places/situations are mine and are not meant to reflect upon reality in any way.