[Later — High Mage Arkhazunn’s Residence — Late Night]
The candles burned lower; outside, Zahryssar slept beneath moonlight. Inside the study...the maps had long been abandoned, the scrolls remained forgotten, and several empty wine bottles rested upon the table.
Varesh sat opposite Arkhazunn, a rare sight. The High Mage usually spent his evenings buried beneath records and politics, not sharing drinks with a captain. Yet tonight...neither seemed eager to leave.
Arkhazunn swirled the wine inside his cup; his eyes studied Varesh over the rim, thoughtful and curious.
Then suddenly, "Can I ask you something, Captain?"
"Sure, High Mage, if I am capable of answering, I will surely answer," Varesh replied.
"Tell me about your life," High Mage Arkhazunn asked.
Varesh blinked; the question clearly caught him off guard. "My life?"
Arkhazunn nodded. "Yes."
Silence.
Varesh looked genuinely confused. "But why, High Mage?"
A faint smile touched Arkhazunn’s lips. "Must there be a reason? Every time we speak, it is about wars. Palace affairs. Assassins."
His gaze lingered upon the captain. "I know more about your sword than I know about you."
For a moment...Varesh simply stared, then unexpectedly...he laughed, a quiet laugh, warm and rare.
"That may be the strangest thing you’ve ever said."
"Impossible." Arkhazunn replied immediately. "I say strange things often when I start drinking."
Varesh shook his head, then finally relaxed against his chair. "My life is not particularly interesting."
"I doubt that," Arkhazunn answered.
Silence settled between them, comfortable. Then Varesh finally began speaking about his childhood, about training, about becoming a knight, and about the first sword his father had given him.
The stories were simple, nothing grand and nothing legendary. Yet Arkhazunn listened carefully, more carefully than he listened during most council meetings.
Minutes passed, then hours, without either realizing it. The wine continued disappearing, the night deepened, and slowly...the distance between them seemed to disappear as well.
Eventually Arkhazunn leaned back against the diwan, a little too heavily and a little too carelessly. His usually perfect posture had long surrendered to the wine.
Varesh immediately noticed. "High Mage..."
Arkhazunn waved dismissively. "I am perfectly fine. I believe the room is moving."
"It is not."
"It definitely is."
Varesh sighed; the captain was beginning to realize that Arkhazunn became surprisingly stubborn when drinking. The High Mage stretched lazily across the cushions, one arm thrown over his eyes. The image was so unlike the composed scholar that Varesh almost laughed again.
Then Arkhazunn lifted his cup. "Get me another drink."
A servant immediately appeared from outside, bowing deeply. "At once, High Mage."
But before the servant could move, Arkhazunn lowered his hand. "Leave."
The servant froze. "My Lord?"
"I said leave."
The attendants exchanged confused looks and then bowed. "As you wish."
Moments later...the room became quiet; only the fire remained, only the candles and only the two of them.
Varesh frowned. "Why did you dismiss them?"
Arkhazunn lowered his arm, their eyes locked. For a moment...neither spoke. Then a small smile appeared on the high mage’s face, a rare smile, one that carried no politics, no calculations, and no schemes.
Only warmth.
Then he lifted the empty cup slightly and asked,
"Why don’t you serve me, Captain?"
Silence.
The fire crackled softly within the chamber, casting waves of amber light across stone walls and scattered shadows. Varesh stared at him.
Arkhazunn’s lips curved into a lazy, drunken smile as he murmured. "Just pour me a drink, Captain, or I might finish the entire bottle."
Varesh gave a reluctant nod.
He rose, took the wine bottle, and knelt beside the High Mage. The position felt strangely intimate, far more intimate than he wished to acknowledge. Arkhazunn watched him the entire time, his silver eyes heavy with wine and exhaustion.
The wine flowed into the cup.
"Why don’t you drink?" Arkhazunn asked.
"A captain cannot afford drunkenness, High Mage," Varesh replied calmly. "Otherwise, the Empire may begin burning before sunrise."
A low chuckle escaped Arkhazunn. "Always duty."
He lifted the cup and drank. Varesh found himself staring; the distance between them was almost nothing.
Too close...far too close.
For years, Varesh had buried every forbidden feeling beneath discipline, loyalty, and silence. He had stood at Arkhazunn’s side through wars, councils, and bloodshed and never once had those feelings disappeared.
They had only grown heavier and more dangerous. His heart pounded painfully against his ribs. Arkhazunn suddenly lifted a hand and brushed a thumb across his own lips, thoughtful and curious.
"I wonder..." he murmured.
Varesh froze.
"...how an Alpha tastes."
The words struck harder than any blade. Varesh’s eyes widened, color drained from his face as he immediately looked away. "You...you should return to your chambers, High Mage. You’re drunk."
"Hm."
Arkhazunn leaned closer; the scent of wine, smoke, and ancient magic surrounded him. "Do you want to kiss?"
Varesh stopped breathing.
"High Mage—"
Before he could finish, Arkhazunn caught his wrist, not forcefully, simply refusing to let him flee. The next moment the High Mage pulled him down beside him. Varesh’s pulse thundered, their chests brushed, the warmth of another body, the nearness, and the impossible reality of it.
"Arkhazunn..." His voice came out barely above a whisper.
The High Mage stared at him for a long moment, not commanding, not teasing, simply studying him curiously like a scholar confronted with a mystery he wished to understand.
Then, without another word, Arkhazunn closed the distance; their lips met softly. So softly that for a moment Varesh thought he had imagined it.
The world vanished: the crackling fire, the distant wind, and the empire. Everything disappeared. There was only this, only him and only Arkhazunn.
The kiss lingered, gentle and questioning. As though the High Mage were searching for an answer hidden somewhere within Varesh’s silence.
Varesh should have pulled away; he knew that. Every lesson of discipline screamed at him to move, to stand, to leave, and to protect what remained of his dignity.
Instead, he remained frozen because this was the dream he had spent years trying to kill, and now it was breathing in front of him.
Arkhazunn’s hand found the side of his neck, warm, careless, and trusting. The touch shattered whatever defenses Varesh still possessed. His heart ached not with desire alone but with longing, years of it, years of watching.
Years of loving someone who never belonged to him, the kiss deepened, still not demanding and still guided more by drunken curiosity than intention, but it was enough...more than enough.
Varesh felt himself breaking, his fingers tightened against the fabric of Arkhazunn’s robes. A helpless sound escaped him; the moment Arkhazunn felt it, he smiled faintly against his lips.
And something inside Varesh finally surrendered; he kissed him back, not as a captain, not as a servant of the Empire, and not as a man bound by duty.
Simply as Varesh.
The man who had loved him for far too long, his hand rose to Arkhazunn’s shoulder. The kiss became warmer and deeper. Months and years of unspoken emotions pouring into something neither words nor loyalty had ever been able to contain.
His heart hammered wildly; each beat felt loud enough to shake kingdoms.
Arkhazunn let out a quiet laugh between breaths, almost surprised by the answer he had discovered.
"There you are," he whispered.
The words nearly destroyed Varesh because Arkhazunn spoke them lightly and carelessly. As a drunk man fascinated by an unexpected discovery, for Varesh, they felt sacred, painfully sacred.
He closed his eyes. For one fleeting moment, he allowed himself to forget reality, to forget that tomorrow would come and to forget that this feeling belonged only to him.
And beneath the warm glow of firelight, while ancient shadows danced across stone walls, Varesh kissed the man he loved and pretended—just for a moment—that his heart was not alone.
Slowly, they pulled apart; the distance between them was barely an inch, and warm breaths mingled. The scent of wine lingered between them, a thin silver thread stretched briefly between their lips before finally breaking.
Varesh’s chest rose and fell unevenly; his pulse thundered in his ears. For a single impossible moment, he thought—Perhaps...perhaps fate had finally shown mercy.
Then Arkhazunn smiled, a soft and tender smile. The kind of smile Varesh had spent years yearning to receive, the High Mage lifted a hand and gently touched Varesh’s cheek; his eyes were unfocused from wine, lost somewhere far away.
"You’re beautiful..." he whispered.
Varesh’s breath caught.
Then came the next word.
"Naburash."
...And everything shattered, not slowly, not gently like a palace collapsing beneath an earthquake, like a clay vessel hurled against stone and like a kingdom swallowed by the desert overnight.
Varesh froze, the blood drained from his face. For a moment he forgot how to breathe, forgot how to think, and forgot how to exist.
The fire still burned; the room remained unchanged, yet suddenly everything felt cold...terribly cold. Arkhazunn smiled again, unaware of the devastation he had unleashed.
"Naburash..."
The name escaped his lips with such affection, such tenderness, and such longing. A tenderness Varesh had never received and never would.
His vision blurred not from tears; a soldier did not cry so easily—but because his heart was breaking with such force that even breathing had become painful.
"High Mage..." he whispered, the words emerging hollow and broken.
Arkhazunn didn’t hear the pain, or perhaps he was too drunk to understand it. His fingers brushed through Varesh’s dark hair, gentle and loving.
A touch that belonged to someone else.
"I loved you for so long," Arkhazunn murmured, his voice having become soft and dreamlike, the voice of a man speaking to a ghost.
"And now you’re finally here."
Varesh lowered his eyes; every word felt like another blade because none of it was meant for him: not the smile, not the touch, not the affection, and not even the kiss.
He had never been the one Arkhazunn wanted; he had merely been standing where another man once stood. Arkhazunn leaned forward and pressed a tender kiss against his cheek.
"So beautiful..." he whispered. "So beautiful, Naburash."
Varesh’s hands clenched into trembling fists; he wanted to leave, to stand, to walk away, and to preserve whatever fragments remained of his dignity, yet he could not move because even borrowed affection was still affection.
Even stolen warmth was still warmth, and after loving this man for so many years... Varesh was weak enough to accept even that.
Arkhazunn suddenly wrapped both arms around his waist, strong, possessive, and desperate. As though terrified that the person before him might vanish.
"I won’t let you go this time." His voice cracked softly. "Never."
The words struck deeper than any sword because Varesh knew they were true. Arkhazunn meant every single one of them but not for him, never for him.
The High Mage pulled him closer until Varesh could hear the steady rhythm of his heartbeat, then he rested his forehead against Varesh’s shoulder, exhaustion finally overcoming the wine.
"Just tonight..." Arkhazunn murmured; his voice had become little more than a sleepy whisper. "Stay. Just you and me...naburash."
Varesh shut his eyes; something inside him finally gave way like an ancient wall eroded by years of relentless water and like a warrior lowering his sword after realizing the battle was lost long ago.
Slowly, he allowed himself to be pulled into Arkhazunn’s embrace. Allowed himself to rest against the man’s chest. Allowed those arms to hold him.
Even knowing they were meant for someone else, above them, the fire continued to crackle softly. Outside, the desert wind sang against the palace stones.
And there, beneath the gaze of sleeping gods and dying embers, Varesh remained in the arms of the man he loved.
Held tightly, wanted desperately, and yet...never once seen. For Arkhazunn slept peacefully beside a memory while Varesh stayed awake beside a heartbreak.