[FINISHED]One of the best known original m/m romances in Russia, loved by many. It won the Russian Wattys 2015 Award, now it's available in English too.
Alva Ahayrre is a Creedan nobleman and a courtier, a beautiful and frivolous redhead...
King Daronghi Dancennou smiled and put his hand over Alva's.
"And you, today, are playing as never before."
Once or twice a week, when the Creedan sovereign was less preoccupied with more important affairs, they met at the chessboard. This tradition dated from when young Chevalier Ahayrre was the King's page. Usually, Daronghi won four times out of five, but today Alva was winning. Alva smiled at the King and began setting out the pieces anew.
"One more game, Your Majesty? As your loyal subject I should let you recoup."
"No, just come and sit with your King."
The young man readily left the armchair, and sat at King's feet, head upon his knee. Daronghi's fingers ruffled Alva's hair and brushed his cheek. Alva pressed his lips to them. The kiss was deferential, without a trace of impropriety. They have always been close – closer than lovers, though they had never shared a bed. Their relationship was not one of a sovereign and subject. A long time ago, the King had loved Alva's father, and after death separated them, chose to take care of his lover's son. This bond of mutual affection remained even when the charming fifteen-year old imp grew into a handsome young man.
The King had no sons, only daughters, so it was easy to guess that Alva was like a son to him. When Iris Ingheldin, the eldest princess, turned twenty one, the King implied to Chevalier Ahayrre that he would approve their marriage. The young people, however, were not interested: they were only friends, in spite of having spent an occasional night together. The Princess married the Marshal of Creede and had already given the King two grandsons. Alva smiled when he remembered Iris and her two happy little boys.
"It is rarely that I see my courtiers looking so happy," said Daronghi affectionately. "You fairly glow with happiness lately, my boy. I am so glad for you ... and for your lover. Why did he forego my invitation and did not come with you?"
"He does not like coming to the palace, sire, though his respect for you is immense. It is too noisy and crowded here for an elf. And he cannot get used to being constantly ogled."
"Only to be expected!" exclaimed the King. "When they see the two of you together, my subjects cannot make up their minds who to envy more – you or your Ithildin."
"Both." Alva sighed dreamily. "I am genuinely happy, sire. Like never before."
"And it shows. You seem to have sprouted wings. Even your chess game improved. Your last work is a poetic masterpiece. I am thinking of giving Ithildin a medal – for services rendered to Creedan poetry." They both laughed.
"I won't keep you any longer. Your lover will miss you," said the King.
"He will understand, sire. He knows how dear you are to me. It is rarely I can tear you away from the business of state. Something has been troubling you lately, I can tell."
King Dancennou shrugged. "I am thinking about the upcoming campaign."
"Pardon me, sire, but aren't we dithering? The Enqins probably think us cowards and are planning another raid."
"They can plan whatever they like, but there will be no other raids. After they last attacked Selkhir, they were wary, drove their cattle back into the steppe and slept weapons in hand. But now they convinced themselves we would not retaliate, and have eased up. Besides, the rumors of our union with the Essanti will have died down by now. They have underestimated us. Best time for a surprise attack".
"Does that mean we'll be riding out soon?" Alva asked eagerly.
"You yearn to go to war?" the King sounded a little sad. "And I wanted to leave you in Trianess, safe from harm, especially now that you have a lover."
"I am an officer of the King's Guard, my liege, and I will fight for Creede," said the Chevalier. "Besides, for a poet, war has its charms. So make no exceptions for me."
"What about Ithildin?"
"He can be my squire."
"If an elf's got your back, I have nothing to worry about," smiled Daronghi.
"Have I ever caused you worry? My hand is strong, and my sword is not for dress-up."
"Do not be offended, my boy. I just have a feeling this campaign will not be a happy one for you. I can be a bit of a worry-wart in my old age."
"Cold winds, hard beds and a couple of scratches are all the unhappiness I can expect." Alva was cheerful. "So when are we going?"
"In two days the Essanti chieftain will come to Trianess. We'll hold the council and set the date."
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Sadly, no one has ever portrayed King Daronghi Dancennou, even as a young and handsome Crown Prince. There is a story about him and Alva's father, Chevalier Rudra Ruatta - very hot, intense and explicit. It's available here on Wattpad in full (although without the short sequel, still didn't translate it, sorry), also you can buy it for only 0.99$ on Smashwords: https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/641880
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Tell you the truth, Alva's father was only presumed dead. He started on a journey in search of the mystical continent west of Pandeya, called Irshawan. His ship was wrecked by a storm, but Rudra didn't perish with it. He reached Irshawan and became... Read my novel Gates to Glory to learn whom he became XD
