~ Storm Warnings ~
Stefano paced the floor in his private office. Bookshelves lined three of the walls, laden with books and original volumes, creating an effective sound buffer. A fine dust lay on most of the shelves – a good indication that Stefano rarely let anyone else in, including Viktor. His boots thudded against the wooden floor. If his pacing didn’t show the level of his frustration, the volume of his steps surely gave it away.
He’s being unreasonable. I am perfectly capable of handling the relationship and bringing it forward. I can think of no reason for him to not allow it, and I shall insist on an answer the moment he arrives.
In the great hall, Viktor made his rounds, checking first the harp, then the piano. Unusual for him, he frowned, his brow creased as if fighting his own thoughts. As he played each note on the piano, moving down the keyboard as usual, his scowl became more pronounced.
I will need to call out the tuner. Again. Every few days since the open house, and that was a fortnight ago. He refuses to speak of his conversation with Master Vargon who is also adamantly silent on the matter. The evening had gone so well, then their “talk” out on the balcony. Nothing has been the same since. And now the Master has returned to his own and Lord Stefano locks himself away in his office.
He shook his head sadly and moved back to the kitchens. He called over a footman and gave instruction for the lad to go to the mainland and talk to the piano repairman. The man will become very wealthy if this continues.
It was well after midnight before the door to the office slid open and Stefano stepped out, holding an empty bottle of the house wyne. He pressed a panel on the wall and the door closed then moved forward enough to blend into the wall. There was a solid “click” as the lock sprang into place. The great hall was empty, the lights low, the fire almost out. He moved to the bar to set the bottle on its top before crossing the room to throw one of the split logs stacked beside the opening into the fireplace. Sparks flew up the chimney as the wood slowly began to burn. He moved toward the balcony but paused to look back at the bar. He must have retired. Stefano stepped out onto the balcony then down the steps to the beach and the waiting ocean.
An hour before dawn he returned, hair matted, wearing only soaked jeans, holding his boots in his right hand, his shirt draped over his arm. Water dripped from him and his clothes as he made his way to the staircase. As he reached the third stair he heard Viktor enter the room from the kitchens. Stefano paused and turned to his manservant.
“I am retiring, Viktor. I have no idea when I shall rise as it is quite late already. I know I need not ask you to tend to matters, you always do, but I do ask. I have been … upset of late, as I know you are aware, and really don’t have the energy or inclination to bother with events in the keep. Thank you for your loyal service.”
“All will be cared for, m’Lord. Rest well.”
Viktor watched him as he stepped up the stairs, frowning at the water across the floor and stairs. He is not well. I’m sure he fed – but his emotions wear him down. He inhaled and held the breath a moment while in thought, then released it, speaking to himself softly. “Time to talk to the Master. I just hope he is receptive.” He stepped into the servants' hall and woke a couple maids to clear out the water before going to his room and preparing himself for what could be another challenge.
The sun had only just set when Stefano came down the stairs, humming. He wore his typical tight jeans with his crimson peasant shirt, unlaced, and bare feet. He walked to the bar, placed both hands on the top, then lifted himself half over to kiss Viktor on the forehead before tossing himself back on his feet. “Good eve, my dear friend. I trust you slept well?”
“Yes, m’Lord, quite well. Might I ask what has you in so light a mood this eve?”
“Nothing much, I suppose. I have just come to an understanding of what I wish to do regarding some things in my life, and have been able to make choices based on it. No longer being in a quandary I suppose has lifted my spirits.”
“What choices are those?”
“Indeed. I would like to hear this as well.”
Stefano turned as Vargon stepped from the shadows beside the harp.
“Go on, my chylde. Regale us with these life choices you have made.”
“I am … still reasoning out the finer details in my mind, Sire. Once they are settled I will be happy to let you know.” He looked around the room. “Is Odessa with you?”
“She stayed at the wagon as a troupe of traveler kindred have camped nearby. She didn’t want it to appear as if we were avoiding them, just that the Prince had matters to attend to. Finding her was a true fate blessing.”
Stefano turned back to Viktor. “I am going for a swim first off this evening. We can go over the affairs of the Keep when I return.”
“As you wish, m’Lord.”
“A swim sounds refreshing. I’ll come with you.”
“Actually … Sire … I planned on using this swim to clear my mind and let it muse over those ‘finer details’ I mentioned earlier. I’m afraid I would not be very good company for you.”
Disappointment shone in Vargon’s eyes. “I had thought to be good company for you, my chylde. But if you would rather I not join you…” He let the sentence fade out.
“It’s not that I do not want you with me… Well, honestly, yes. It is. I need this time, sir. I trust you can understand.”
“A prince is nothing, if not patient.”
Stefano flinched inwardly at the commanding change in authority of Vargon’s words and tone. “I shouldn’t be long.”
“Take your time. I am not going anywhere.”
“You are staying more than just one eve then?”
“I may be here several nights. There truly are matters which I must, as prince, deal with.”
“I shall see you later then ... Sire.”
“Indeed, chylde. That you shall.”
Stefano respectfully bowed his head then turned and swiftly stepped out into the night air. Upon reaching the stone steps, he slowed, his mind racing. Chylde? Not ‘my chylde’, but just ‘child’? If he has come to talk me out of taking Gerik, he is in for a fight. Tradition be hanged. I love Gerik, I shall bring him over. Vargon did for Odessa. I shall for Gerik. He can throw his being a prince in my face – it makes no matter. I will not back down. Not even for him. In fact … especially for him.
When he reached the sand he stripped off the jeans and shirt then walked into the rolling waves. His fingers swirled the water as it reached his waist. When it was almost chest deep, he paused to look back and up at the balcony, clearly seen at this distance, before he slid into the water like an eel. Effortlessly he swam, moving further and further from the shore, not surfacing until he reached the surf line of the mainland. He gauged the severity of the tide and waves before moving on, heading for shore, allowing the waves to assist his progress. As he stepped free from the surging tide he wrung excess water from his hair. He slipped into the shadows as he headed for House Falow.
It wasn’t long before Stefano was beside Gerik’s bed, watching him sleep. He smiled at the slow and even rise-fall of his love’s chest. If only I could run my hands over his chest… Claim those lips… He sighed. Hearing a sound in the hall, he turned and bumped into a small table, knocking a wooden figure to the floor. He chastised himself mentally as he bent to pick it up, then set it back where it belonged. He shrugged of whether or not the thing was in the right place, but turned to look at Gerik, who was now laying on his side, eyes wide open.
“Stef?”
Stefano swore under his breath and took a step backwards, moving into the shadows. Let him think he woke from a dream and I was on his mind. If the Fates smile on me… He quickly left House Falow and headed the shore, avoiding light from windows or street posts. He didn't want to think about what would happen should he be found skulking through Atterstock naked. Reaching the beach, he sprinted into the water and disappeared beneath the foam.
Althoug
h current meant nothing to the apt swimmer, with his mind so locked on his desires for Gerik, the swim to the island was much longer than normal. He walked from the water on his beach and grabbed his shirt and pants, his fatigue showing had anyone else been present. His wet feet slipped on one a step and he was laughing at himself as he reached the top. He got his third surprise of the night when he stepped onto the balcony.
“Do you normally walk around without clothing, my chylde? Granted, I have no qualms at seeing my chylde in all his glory, but I doubt it is proper when you could be seen by one of your servants."
Stefano froze, staring at the doorway where Vargon was standing with a glass of wyne in his hand. His frustration rose, hearing the words as a reprimand instead of a complement.
"Would it be so terrible if I were seen? This is my home, my refuge and they are my servants. As lord of the Keep I am free to be as I am.” His eyes swirled with shadows.
"I will not argue the matter. Go clean yourself up then return, properly attired of course. We have much to discuss. I trust you fed while you were out.”
“Yes, Sire”, Stefano lied. Blood-wyne will have to suffice tonight. “Can you tell me what it is you wish to talk about?”
“I am fairly certain you know the answer to that, chylde. Now go. I’ve waited for you long enough.” Again the sound of thunder. Just not so distant.
Hearing the authority change again in Vargon's voice brought Stefano’s training to the surface. “Yes, my Lord Prince.” He politely bowed his head before heading swiftly to his room.
I will not bend. All Hades be chilled before I let him dictate how I express my love.