Cassius, Valentin and Adrienne are all lonely, in their own ways.

Length: <3000 words, POV: Cassius, Rating: R
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Part of: 016 Solitude, Book 2 Contents, Contents

The morning was cloudy and cold. Cassius woke reluctantly; this was not a day to which he looked forward with pleasure. Ivery Malventus, the Jovani fool at the centre of the plot Cassius had uncovered at Blacktower Castle, had been interrogated, found guilty, and sentenced to crucifixion. Today his sentence would be carried out.

Although Adrienne would not lower herself to acknowledge such a futile and pointless rebellion, it behoved Cassius to witness the execution and report back. Even Valentin had been excused, because the negotiations with Toqueia, opened after Jovan’s intervention in Ilas, were reaching a new level, and Valentin’s tricky brain was desperately needed at the negotiating table.

The worst part was that the execution wasn’t until dusk, so Cassius had somehow to make his way through the day until then: a day which currently looked more-or-less empty.

With a resentful grumble, he rolled out of bed and went over to the screen, shedding his nightshirt on the way. Wetting a cloth, he wiped himself down: chest, arms, back, groin, and legs, then used a fresh cloth to clean his face and neck.

Breakfast, followed by his morning session with Tamlin beguiled a few hours, and had to be followed by a proper wash in the palace baths, which left him tired, clean and perfumed, standing in his room and twiddling his thumbs, well before noon.

He met Valentin in the gardens a short while later. Valentin was holding a letter and staring absently past an oleander bush. He started when Cassius approached him.

“How go the negotiations?” he asked.

“Well, I think,” said Valentin after a pause. “We may have an in-principle agreement today.”

“Ivery Malventus is being executed this afternoon,” said Cassius.

“Good.” Valentin did not give this a great deal of attention. “There’s no point keeping one like him alive.”

Cassius sighed. “I suppose so.”

“Of course the most interesting thing about that whole plot was that Capistan de Sirona showed his hand. How fitting if the Sironese threat were silenced on two fronts the same day: by Malventus’ death, and by an agreement between Jovan and Toqueia. Wither goest Toqueia, so go the Confederated States.” Valentin had delivered this entire speech to the oleander bush, his mind far away.

“Yes, fitting,” echoed Cassius. “Are you all right?”

“Mm. Luvina has miscarried.” He looked at Cassius for the first time and held up the letter. “She wrote me. Luca will live, but his leg has withered. He won’t walk without a limp.”

“Neither of those things are your fault,” said Cassius.

“I know that.” Valentin tucked the letter into his tunic. “Still, Luvina had just about convinced me I wanted another child.”

Putting his hand on Valentin’s shoulder, Cassius said, “I’m sorry, brother. What will you do?”

“Try again, I suppose. Luvina writes that she is coming up to town and will arrive probably a fortnight after this letter.”

“Do you think it isn’t a bit soon?”

“Why?” Valentin said coldly.

“I…” Cassius sighed. “You’re impossible in this mood.”

He got a glittering smile in return.  “No word from Llewellyn, I take it?”

Cassius shook his head.

“Then perhaps you should worry about your own life and leave me to mine.” There was a brief silence.  Valentin went back to studying the plant in front of him.

“I’ll leave you to yourself,” said Cassius, and left the garden. Somehow, although he didn’t know precisely why, he felt betrayed. He knew Valentin had teeth and claws, but they were so rarely turned on him, that when his brother did attack him, it wounded to the quick.

For a soldier, you’re a soft touch, he told himself with contempt, and went to his office to sort through papers relating to the Monsilys city guard.

Despite his most scornful internal admonishments, Valentin’s words circled around his mind. Llewellyn. It was true. What right had he to question Valentin’s domestic arrangements when he had botched his own so badly? He had driven the boy—man–he loved away with stupidity and cowardice.

He leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes, remembering Llewellyn’s young body, spread out on the furs in his bedroom at Blacktower. The smooth skin that almost shone in the candle-light, and quickly mottled with a blush as Llewellyn’s blood rose. The brown curls which fanned out around his face and tangled around ears and neck. The thin hair that spread out around his chest and narrowed to a thin line down his belly. His cock, hard and curling to rest in the hollow beside his hip, waiting, yearning, for Cassius’ adoration.

Cassius’ breath became laboured. It felt as if there was fire underneath his skin. He basked in the sensation, torturing himself. He relived the Pleasure Garden, Cloud kneeling beside his knee, his hand in Cloud’s curls. Him sitting on the divan, Cloud crouched between his legs, pushing aside his tunic.

The ship back to Jovan, when Llewellyn had said sleepily, I’ll trust you. He had told him Jovan would be his home, then driven him away.

Hard and aching, Cassius spread his legs underneath his desk and rubbed the bulge in his hose, repeating to himself, if he comes back, I will deserve him. If he comes back, I will deserve him. He found satisfaction, but the image of Llewellyn shaking his head to hide his face with his curls, any one of a thousand times Cassius had let him down, refused to be banished from his mind.

He abandoned the attempt to do paperwork, and went back to his room to clean himself up, then went out onto the ramparts to stare down at the plain, where crucifixes dotted the side of the road. There were ten nailed up down there at the moment. Of those, perhaps two were still dying. The other eight had died a while ago, their bodies gibbeted as a warning to others.

As he was roving the ramparts, he saw Adrienne and Valentin standing in a courtyard, talking. He thought about going down to them, but didn’t feel like getting the sharp side of Valentin’s tongue twice in one day, so he waited until Valentin bowed and went away towards his quarters before he came down.

Adrienne smiled at him as he walked up. “Hello, Uncle Cassius,” she said.

“Empress.” He essayed a quick bow. “How go the negotiations?”

“Almost completed, I think,” she replied. “You did good work in Ilas; King Lupe was generous in his praise of us, which seems to have turned the tide in favour of our proposition. It seems as if Prince Patrizio will agree to send his second-youngest son Prince Caspar to Jovan, on the understanding that if both he and my sister are amenable to it, they will be married.”

“That is excellent news. I have heard nothing but good about Prince Caspar.”

“Yes, and I am glad Prince Patrizio has not pushed for a betrothal straight away. Adelais is going to be difficult enough about this without my making the decision for her.”

“It speaks well both for Prince Patrizio, and for the character of Prince Caspar,” Cassius agreed.

Adrienne smiled. “I’m glad you think so too. At any rate, the Toquiean delegation have agreed, but the final say must be for the prince. I have commissioned a miniature of Adelais which they will take back to Toqueia, but she is a pretty girl, so I can’t see that there will be a problem on that account.”

“How old is Prince Caspar?”

“Four and twenty,” said Adrienne. “A bit older than Adelais, which I can only think is for the good, given her propensity to toy with boys her own age.”

They turned and were walking together towards the cloisters which led back into the palace, Cassius matching his pace to the careful, measured stride Adrienne had adopted ever since she cast away her cane a month ago. “And what of you?” Cassius said.

“Hm?”

Their conversation had the feeling of a comfortable family discussion and not a conversation between Empress and commander, so he ventured, “Do you think of marriage, my dear?”

She looked down. “I’m too busy, I think. I thought perhaps…” she trailed off.

Cassius wondered if she was thinking of Beold Ruben, whom Valentin had poisoned because Beold wanted to take the throne of Jovan. As far as Cassius knew, Adrienne was completely unaware of his sinister intentions towards her. Which was how it needed to remain, given Valentin had accomplished Beold’s death partly by poisoning Adrienne as well.

Adrienne raised and lowered her shoulders delicately. “One day,” she said, “I would like to marry.”