Ekleipsis (Fantasy Romance - LGBT, manXman)

2.2.

"Sweetheart, you'll kill yourself."

Leitis Lysander sat on the floor by his bed, chin on top of her hands that were folded over the blanket. This way, their eyes were level, and she was looking straight at Alva, sadly and earnestly. She was not disapproving – Alva loved that about Leitis: she never tried to change him or interfere with his life, but she turned up and offered her strong shoulder whenever he needed her most.

What made her leave the Southern border, where her regiment was stationed, and rush to Trianess? It was as if she had sensed her darling Alva was in trouble. Sometimes he believed there was a mystical bond between them – perhaps, before they were born, they had been a brother and sister in another life. Or, perhaps, providence had appointed her Alva's guardian angel.

Leitis had come in the nick of time again: she went all over the Low-town and extracted Chevalier Ahayrre from a vilest dive, where – for the last two days – he explored the verge of insanity. When she burst into the room, two swords at the ready, Alva was already staked on the next round of craps. The winner would take him first. Alva was dead drunk and stoned to boot, and could not have put up much of a fight, even if he had realized what was happening. Leitis nearly burst into tears at the sight of his pale drawn face with a pinched nose and dark circles under glassy eyes. Cutting through the lecherous crowd, she carried out a barely conscious Alva in her arms, took him home, stuck him under a cold shower and shoved him into bed.

In the morning, when Alva seemed more like his usual self, Leitis forced him to drink a revolting brew (made to an old family recipe) that sobered him, instantly and irrevocably. The new-found sobriety brought memories of a nearly week-long drunken binge that could have ended for him very badly. He shuddered when he understood what Leitis had saved him from. The patrons of that hell-hole would not have stopped at rape. More likely, they would have robbed him, killed him, and tossed his body into a ditch. He would have gotten eternal rest instead of the temporary relief offered by drugs and wine. Alva's grief was not great enough to make him court death. It just would not let him live.

"Before you drive yourself into the grave, tell me why you are doing it. What ails you, my sweet Allie? It hurts me to see you that way. I know you would have asked for my help if you thought I could help you. But tell me what's wrong at least, speak your mind!"

"Love you, Lei," croaked Alva and moved closer, putting his head on her shoulder.

Her very presence filled him with serenity and dulled his pain. She smoothed his hair gently, and kissed the top of his tousled head.

"I love you too, carrot-top. Your knack for getting into trouble compares only to your beauty. So tell me why my best friend has been pickling himself for two months."

Leitis was the only one he could trust with his secret. But the source of his grief was too painful to discuss, remember or think about ...

"Lei, my life is not worth living. I don't even know how to tell you."

"You've fallen in love, Allie," this came as a statement, not a question.

He nodded silently. She had always been perceptive, and now, after years of friendship, knew him nearly as well as she knew herself. Besides, it would not have been difficult to guess, as he had all the symptoms. What would she say once she learned who he fell for?

"Dear God, resisting you would seem inhuman," Lei's eyes, the color of summer sky, were filled with sympathy. "It can't be a courtier or anyone from the capital; who in Trianess would reject Alva Ahayrre?"

Chevalier Ahayrre sighed. "It's not, exactly, a human," he said, simply.

Now Leitis, that gallant hero, looked scared. "Do not tell me that it was one of the Ancient Race!"