Marriage

[Taelian Edevane]

71st of Frost, Year 4621

Slowly, the door opened.

After a long eve of warning his lovers both of what might be in the morning, the three men left the hotel to return to the quaint Ashvane Estate, where Latham's husband resided, soon alone if things went nearly as he expected them to. He had made sure to acquire all of his belongings again, strolling them through Retzen's cobbled streets, though he doubted such a peace offering would mark a significant change in how things would proceed. At least he could still his own guilt, perhaps, knowing that Wendell would get back everything he lost; that he wouldn't be, truly, the loser in their situation, used and stolen from, and then in some way discarded. Latham wasn't quite sure he could bring himself to look his own visage in the eye, with such thoughts flickering through his mind.

Fortunately, they'd at least managed to retrieve his valuables. Latham had been particularly grueling in how he sorted through them, counting each object, jotting them down and offering Thomas stern glances each time he suspected something might have been pawned off. It seemed no such transactions had occurred, and they were able to return with Wendell's mother's jewels, his father's painting and all the many other expensive baubles that made up his estate.

Once Latham stepped inside, he invited the other two men behind him, glancing around.

He was wearing an onyx, velvet-textured suit, with feathers along the open collar, which ran between his pectorals, a golden pendant hanging from his neck. Latham was dressed particularly well, as if to prepare himself for the formality of the occasion; what would possibly be his last night in Ashvane, and his last night as anything even proximate to Wendell's lover. He was prepared, or so he yearned to be, for the proceedings of what would be the end of their time together as partners.

Claudia, a middle-aged, black-haired woman, approached from the dining area with her hands clasped together, her hair in a bun. "Lord Venger," she greeted the man, bowing her head.

"Where is Wendell?" he asked.

"In his study," replied the woman. "He is... rather furious. I -- did you manage to retrieve everything?"

"Yes," said Latham. "Including my stray lover. We'll be seeing Wendell, then, so Thomas can properly apologize. Hopefully we can put all of this behind us," he said.

"Very well, then, Lord Venger. I... wish you and Wendell well, in this." The woman turned and left, returning to her duties. Harald was nowhere to be seen; he was always the meek sort, weary of being present for any conflict. Latham imagined he was hiding in whatever room Claudia emerged from, gossiping with her on the state of affairs.

Nevertheless, the man stepped towards the study, expecting Thomas and Maladan to follow behind him. However this ended, he wanted all three of them to be there; to know. This was, in some way, the end of the last cycle, the one that preceded their own time together as lovers. It had to be felt.

Approaching the study, the man idled for a moment before the door, taking in a heavy breath before gripping the knob and turning it open. Wendell loomed there, inside, leaning over his desk, his legs bearing a wide stance as one palm anchored against his upper thigh. He did not turn when the door opened, peering away as if to not mar his view. The sun shone through a window on the other side of the room, illuminating him as he sat.

"I see the rat has returned," he stated, flatly. "And -- what -- his handler, now? Leave all of my belongings in the foyer, and be gone from here. I don't want to bear through this discussion -- not now."

[Thomas]

Thomas' first inclination was to do as Wendell asked, and just leave. It was what he'd explicitly asked for, and generally Celebrants wanted to be obeyed, not defied. When he made a motion to turn around and do so, though, Latham shook his head a bit and that was all it took to remind Thomas what he was here to do: make amends. Or if that was impossible, at least apologize.

So he would apologize, and see where it got him.

He approached Wendell and performed a deep bow, the kind rarely practiced in modern Lorien. He knew Wendell to be a traditionalist who held fast to the social hierarchy that put him on top, and was therefore likely to appreciate the custom even if he didn't show it.

"My apologies for my conduct, Lord Venger. In absconding with some purloined items, I sought to incense both Lords of House Venger such that I would not be pursued. It was not my intention to sell or pawn anything so taken, merely to prove your assessment of my character such your husband's eye would no longer wander to me. The only possessions I did sell off were the coats you bought me, and I intend to repay the debt, if you will allow me this. I did my best to leave you items that were clearly heirlooms, such as portraits of your family, and to take only objects that had monetary worth instead of sentimental value."

"Had I not been arrested, I would have fled Lorien, cached your belongings somewhere safe, and returned them to you at next Frost. I do not require much to live on and am quite adept at acquiring farthings on my own. If that's cold comfort, or no comfort to you at all, my Lord, then that is your right. As I am trying now to reform, all I can offer you is the truth, and a pledge to be at your service should you so require it in the future."

He didn't dare look back at Latham and Maladan. All of his attention remained focus on Wendell, who at least no longer had his back to them. If his expression a bit wooden and his jaw a bit clenched, well. That could be dealt with, perhaps.

[Taelian Edevane]

Wendell barely noticed the bow. Halfway towards its inception, he turned his head away, not glancing back even once to see the depth at which it was made. He stared emptily towards the pages of his book - an old novel, renowned for its rather bleak ending - and listened quietly, absorbing the other man's words with no shortage of skepticism. He wanted to litter his words with questions, statements and seeming contradictions, but he did none of those things. Instead, he waited quietly for him to finish, and when he did, he pressed his fingertips along the edges of the book and closed it nearly shut, using the gap his fingers formed as a bookmark before turning to face Thomas in earnest.

"Your apology is not wanted," he said. "Your departure is. If you did not want to be pursued, surely a better way existed that did not involve stealing from a man who had housed you, fed you, clothed you with fine vestments and treated you gracefully? You failed to avoid stealing heirlooms, and of course you did. You were -- are -- utterly careless, and a liar, and I don't believe a sodding fuck of whatever horse drivel you just tried to sell me. You're a worthless, belligerent whore."

"Wendell--"

"Shut up, Latham," the man said firmly, narrowing his eyes into an enraged glare. "You dare fucking bring another one of your whores into my home after one of them just stole from me? Alongside bringing the culprit himself; what, for that bullshit apology? No. You and I are done. We've been done. This is just the last, bloody gasp of something I tried to make work, that you never gave a damn about. So fuck right off and go knob your two whores and leave me be."

"Will there be no room for me to say anything, then? You'd like me to leave your life forever without a single word?" he asked, gritting his teeth.

"What, then? What is there to say, Latham?"

"I worked hard to ensure that everything of yours was alright. I wanted to do right by you. Thomas... he can be a troubled man, but so did he. He made a mistake, and he regrets it. Is there no world in which you might forgive that, Wendell? No world at all?"

The man breathed out, hard, setting down the book and standing up. "My capacity for forgiveness is expended," he said, peering towards him flatly. "But my capacity for wroth is far from. Continue to indignify me with your sewage, and you will see that aspect of me clear enough. You think I survived my family's dissolution by being kind, only, like I have been to you? No. If you continue to fuck up my life and what I've built, you'll not experience the 'loving' Wendell Venger any longer, Taelian. Go. Away."

The Knight peered down, his brows clinging to the creases of his eyes, his expression solemn. "Okay," he whispered. "I have a lot of things, here, though, and nowhere to stay just yet. I'll need to buy a new home, won't I? So -- give me the chance to do that, please. Until we divorce... this is my home, too, Wendell. Please don't force me out of it."

"It's our home, but not the home of your bloody entourage," Wendell muttered, twisting his lips as he looked away, almost guiltily. "You can stay here, but they can't. In fact -- we... we can still be married, Taelian. My issue isn't with you, it's with the company you keep; the trust you give so easily. Your street harlot will ruin you. Me, though? What have I given to you but love, support, everything? Why am I worth so much less?"

Latham sighed. "You're not," he said, softly. "But you and I married for political convenience, not for love. That's not all this world is about to me. I want companionship, of a sort that you just... never gave. And--" Glancing behind him, the Knight bit his lower lip. "This isn't the right time for this, Wendell. We have company. Maybe we should just... discuss this later. I'll go stay at another hotel with my... 'entourage', and when I come back here to get my belongings, we can speak again. ...Okay?"

"...Fine," he said. "I will wait. Please ensure--"

"They're already being hauled in, I assure you," said Latham, predicting what he meant to say. "You'll be alright, Wendell. And I will be, too. I'll be back in a few days, after I've secured a home. Be well, alright?"

"Uh-huh," he muttered back, and the large man left the room, ushering his two lovers to head out as he did.

Once they were all standing in the foyer again, Latham's eyes lowered.

"Looks like he's not going to let us stay here any longer," he said. "That's alright, though. Maybe it'll be... better this way."

[Thomas]

It wasn't the first argument between a married couple Thomas had witnessed. It wasn't the first one he'd caused, for that matter, or the first one that involved the threat of a dissolution of a union. It was provoking an unfamiliar feeling, however: remorse. He didn't love Wendell, but he did like him, and in his pursuit of cutting himself free of an entanglement with Latham, he'd really hurt the man. Sure, some of it was just egoism, and some of it was arrogance about having a Nameless dare to hurt his social better in that way. It was tempting to dismiss all of this as that, but Thomas was all but certain that would be a mistake.

He'd hurt Wendell, just as he'd hurt Latham. The fact that they'd never loved one another was not relevant to that statement, nor was the fact that he had meant no offense, and had, in his own way, been hoping for Latham and Wendall to patch things up and remain together. Wendell was too angry to accept an apology but Thomas did not intend for this to be the last time they spoke. He would discharge the debt he owed to Wendell by earning a legitimate wage doing -- something or another; he wasn't completely clear on this part of his plan -- and pay the man back. He would make a second apology at that time. If it were accepted, fantastic. If it were not, at least he would have given it a proper effort, and not just washed his hands of the man.

For now, though, this was not his fight. He was the instigator, and the topic, but not the cause. There was a deeper rift between the Lords Venger, and while his presence had precipitated it, the roots of it must have started before he and Latham had reunited. He gave Wendall another deep bow, and then followed Latham from the chamber. While he wanted to make light of the situation, he had a feeling neither Latham nor Maladan would appreciate it. So instead, he decided to try to emulate Latham's mood and be somber.

"I'm sorry for my part in this, Latham. Do you wish to return to where we stayed before, or find somewhere else? As well, you mentioned something about buying a house? Do you wish to stay in Retzen, or go elsewhere?"

[Taelian Edevane]

He took in a deep, heavy breath, nodding his head back-and-forth as he breathed in and out, attempting to calm himself to a point of almost... emptiness. He remembered the depth of that feeling; the void he often stared into as a youth. He thought it was because of pain, but then Aldrin told him it was not. He told him that he had changed him, that he had taken away any sense of pain, that he had stripped him of all emotional weakness. That he was, like many hundreds of thousands of other Sil'Norai, a Famished. Only years ago, he determined that to be an untrue thing, and steadily the perception of wearing a senseless mind peeled back. He wasn't certain whether he had simply deluded himself into feeling nothing for all of those years, or whether something changed in him. Maybe Aldrin was wrong, or maybe - at some point - he stopped being right.

He wasn't able to just -- not feel, though, anymore. Not now. There was no switch to flip, no part of his conscious he could tap into in order to extricate himself from the situation. Wendell was gone from his life, and while he was surrounded on each side by men he deeply cared for... in some way, he also felt... alone.

Why am I worth so much less?

His heart sunk deep within his chest, and his throat felt strained. He had hurt Wendell, deeply, all that time. In choosing Thomas over him -- even after all of this -- he had only made that pain so much greater. He was allowing Wendell, a wounded animal, to fester forlornly in the dirt, without a single soul to sing his pain to. Latham was all he had.

"I'm... not going to let him hate me," he whispered. "Or feel this way, without me... bearing through some of it with him. You two -- you go back to the hotel, alright? Thomas, I'll give you a cheque, and you can check in for the night. I'm... going to stay here with him for a few more hours. I promise, I'll be back with you in a while, and maybe by then I'll have figured everything out. I'm not--I wasn't fully ready for this, you know? I hoped things would be... better."

The Knight winced, shaking his head. He grabbed his back, pulled out a banknote and began scribbling on it, before handing over the rectangular document to the Griscian man.

"We will stay in Retzen," he said. "Wendell needs to know he's not alone. He... deserves that much. I think, me staying here, will mean something to him. Alright?"

And, of course, there was the subtle truth that he quite liked Retzen. He liked Kastran, in general; it was beautiful, pleasant, quaint. It was so far removed from the land he'd grown up in, always toiling in the muck, the corpses and the dregs. He felt so fortunate to live where he did, and he didn't want to give it all away.

"Go, Thomas, Maladan. I'll be there soon."

Stepping forward, he wrapped his arms around the both of them, pulling each into his chest before leaning to kiss them each on the lips. Then, letting them go, he returned to the study to seat himself beside Wendell, for what he hoped would not be his final time.

[Maladan]

Maladan stood off, a little distant the whole time, looking around the study in amazement. He had never seen so many books in one place. By force, he tried to keep his attention on the grim topics discussed in the front lines. At some of Wendell's words, he simply longed to hug the man and say something reassuring; it was not a good idea, he suspected the lord would bite his head off.... or at least hit him with the book. Sometimes, he wanted to wanted to throw a book on him himself. But in the end this meeting was... enlightening. At least for him: names began to take on faces and spoken emotions and relationships began to take shape of real things between and inside of people. He was no longer dependent only on the view of one side of the conflict, he could make up his own mind.

Wendell was a strange man, and though Maladan was quite offended by being called whore yet again, it only took the elf a minute to do better than feel offended by the word of hurt man expressing his pain and sense of betrayal. He pieced the pieces together, diagnosing as he would diagnose a disease. He knew what a evil men looked like, but Wendell was just... sad. There was no light of consuming cruel flame, ever devouring and hungry. Wendells eyes felt like a frozen sea at the north. Maladan knew deep in his heart, that this marriage isn't just a formality or that there's no love in it. Lorien celebrants were just playing with fire with all this 'making deeply intimate things formal'. It was so much different from his homeland, where love was one of the few things that gave meaning in a sad and dangerous existence, not something that took it away.

Wendell was likely tough, but still, he opened up to Latham – Maladan didn't blame him: he had that effect on the people, it was very easy to fall in love with him, open yourself. In the end, he had to give Wendell his due, he was a bit of a whore. He also felt that Wendell loved Latham as deeply and sincerely as he could, the fact that he was too formal and perhaps cold to express emotion on the level Latham needed was another matter entirely. Maladan trusted that, he did what he could... but sometimes, even our best efforts aren't good enough. Maybe given a year. Maybe after a dozen? Maybe on a death bed? Maybe never. Lot's of maybes, but they are what keeps people going – hopes for something better.

Of course, he shouldn't just focus on Wendell; the situation was difficult for everyone involved. Latham couldn't let the sufferers down, so he decided to stay with his husband. Maladan supported him wholeheartedly in doing so. "Perhaps you could offer to him some sleep over: he must... feel terrible. He probably needs a cuddle. He's too proud to admit it, but he still needs it." He added to Latham's plan after being hugged and kissed. Neither of these things made him feel possessive or jealous with a thought Latham left him and Thomas alone. It was in his nature to help those in need and Maladan want Latham to be happy. That was it: simple as it is. Moresoever, he and Thomas were no kids, they knew how to take care of themselves.

When the larger man left and returned to the study, Maladan, without warning, hugged Thomas tightly and pressed a kiss to his neck. When he let go, he gave him a very careful, searching look, as if he could read what he was thinking from the color of his eyes and something hidden deep in Thomas's face.
"Are you all right, love?" he said, with his hands still around human's waist. The word left his mouth with exceptional ease, somewhat naturally. "Maybe we could do something properly distracting – maybe... we could go out for a drink? We could work on our medicine together? We could... go back to a hotel and read some book like fancy people? Would... another kiss help?"

[Thomas]

Thomas stiffened when Maladan hugged him, his posture becoming instinctively rigid before relaxing into it. The fact that the elf was thin as a reed notwithstanding, he was still quite strong. When he wasn't standing next to Latham, it was easier to remember that. How odd it was, he thought, to be comforted. For one thing, he was disused to it in general. When his partners in the past had been offering it, it was usually not being offered to him, but to an altar ego. Half the time, the distress wasn't real, because the cause was fabricated to create a problem for them to solve so that afterward, they would grow closer. Even when the problem was real, like the blood had been when he'd first met Latham, he didn't allow himself to think about if he were actually being comforted or not. It was all about what the other person wanted, how to make the other person feel.

This was the first time in recent memory when he was being comforted and he didn't want anything from the other person. For that matter, he wasn't certain if he even deserved comfort. While what was happening between Latham and Wendell wasn't entirely his fault, he had still been the immediate cause, and he felt bad about it. He sighed into Maladan's shoulder.

"Well -- I'm not sure what we should do, to be honest. This is normally the point in my process where I steal some baubles on the way out, go back to my wagon, and make for the next town." Thomas said, sounding almost wistful. "I recognize that I can't do that any more, but you must admit there is a sort of elegant simplicity to that solution. Ah, if I suppose that I am now doing the opposite of the sort of things that I would normally do, I suppose we would go return to the hotel and have a somnolent discussion over mineral water and gruel about my feelings. To be frank, that sounds unbearable, but maybe there's a middle ground between the two solutions. So perhaps we could, ah -- oh, I have it! Let's quit this estate, go back to the hotel, and have some mulled wine. See where the night takes us. Sound okay, my Maladan?"

[Obsequies]

Marriage

---

Points awarded:

• +8 Taelian

• +7 Thomas

Lores:

• Taelian: n/a

• Thomas:
  Etiquette: Apologizing to a Celebrant
  Etiquette: Clearing Debts
  Negotiation: Attempting to Salvage Relationships
  Negotiation: Promises to Those who Don't Trust You Don't Work
  Negotiation: Returning Liberated Property
  Rhetoric: Speaking from the Heart
  Rhetoric: x2 Generic Lores

Loot:

• N/A

Injuries:

• N/A

---

Notes:
This thread tugs at the heartstrings and I really do feel for all of y'alls characters, even Wendell! -1 to EXP for thomas because there's only about 1200 words for him, but aside from that it was very nice to read.