Chapter 22 - Sleeping King

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Chapter 22

 

 

Aurelian had always believed there was nothing to learn from his father—at best, the man served only as a cautionary example.

 

But tonight, he learned something important.

 

If his life were to end suddenly tomorrow, he would be filled with nothing but regret.

 

He had once read in a book that each day should be lived as though it were your last—but such words had never struck deeply in his youthful heart.

 

Now, watching his father spiral into madness, consumed by fear of death and ruled by destructive impulses, Aurelian finally began to grasp what those words might mean. Only began—for even now, he suspected he understood far too little. One cannot claim to know until they stand in the same place themselves.

 

"Fisé… I'm sorry. I just… I couldn't bear to be apart from you."

 

He had fulfilled his long-held wish—freed the one he cherished from that cold prison—but to be separated again so soon was unbearable.

 

Even if Fisé's body was built not to feel the sting of cold, Aurelian knew how much he loved warmth. Fisé had always tried to hide that, but Aurelian had sensed it since he was a child.

 

He couldn't let someone like Fisé spend the night alone in a cold room.

 

"I wonder if you're already asleep… Either way, I'll light the fire."

 

Fisé lay on his side, his back turned, but Aurelian couldn't tell if he was truly asleep.

 

He wasn't breathing audibly, but Aurelian had never heard a fairy sleep before. He couldn't judge by human standards. Wondering what to make of it, he struck a match and began to stack the firewood.

 

He took up the cold iron poker and arranged the kindling so the flames would catch more easily.

 

It took time, but soon the fire crackled to life. The air warmed almost at once.

 

The pale room, lit only by moonlight, took on a soft glow. The canopy above the bed was now bathed in amber.

 

Even though the heavy drapes cast shadows, the firelight overcame them.

 

Fisé's head became clearly visible—his long black hair shone more lustrous than ever in the firelight.

 

"Sorry for the noise… I must've woken you, didn't I?"

 

Thinking he was awake, Aurelian stepped closer when Fisé made no reply.

 

He placed one hand on the mattress. Still no response.

 

"Are you asleep? You rode a horse for the first time tonight. You were scared, and probably tense… It must've been exhausting."

 

Still, nothing changed. A flutter of anxiety stirred in Aurelian's chest—but not of a frightening sort.

 

Fisé, by nature, didn't seem like someone who could fall into a deep sleep in such a situation. If he was pretending to sleep… Aurelian couldn't help but wonder what that might mean.

 

When he's awake, Fisé is rational. He rejects my love, says he can only see me as a brother. Even though he's the only one who could ever make me happy, he always slips away with a smile, claiming to want what's best for me. But maybe, if he pretends to sleep, he can finally be honest. Maybe this is how he silences his reason, and lets instinct accept what reason refuses.

 

Could he speak more? Could he… touch him?

 

Aurelian wanted to believe that this silence, this stillness, was an invitation—that he was wanted.

 

"Fisé… This room still isn't warm enough. And I… I want to be close to you. May I get in bed with you? I'm not a child anymore."

 

It felt shameful to pretend to be a child just to lie beside him. So Aurelian made his intentions clear. I'm a man who loves you, Fisé—but can I still share this bed with you?

 

Even as he folded back the down comforter and blanket, Fisé remained still, turned away like a doll.

 

The silk sheets shimmered white, making Fisé's hair and clothing stand out even more vividly.

 

His fairy garments—once tightly wrapped around his legs—had returned to their usual flowing form, the hem spreading like the petals of a dress. A section of black fabric had slipped, revealing a pale knee, and the smooth line of his leg continued to the tips of his toes—so graceful Aurelian could hardly look away. Slender, supple limbs, soft without being touched, gleamed with a luster no less than silk. Even his nails looked like translucent seashells, delicate and perfect.

 

"Fisé… your legs are beautiful. Like the legs of the Little Mermaid, granted by the sea witch—never yet touched the ground. Even your heels look soft. It makes me want to touch them."

 

Still, Fisé did not stir even as Aurelian placed his knees on the mattress.

 

So still he seemed hardly alive. Aurelian whispered, "Can I touch you?"—but no answer came.

 

"Your clothes always covered you, even your shoes were rarely seen. So I imagined your legs must be pale. But the real thing is even more beautiful… My heart is pounding."

 

He reached out and touched Fisé's heel—and immediately, his own heart jumped.

 

The unexpected chill stole his breath. He flinched, not Fisé.

 

Of course it made sense, the room was chilled... But Fisé's skin was so cold, it betrayed the softness his appearance promised. Cold—cold like a corpse.

 

"…I'm sorry. I shouldn't have left you alone in such a freezing room."

 

Fisé had asked to be left alone—but if he was pretending to be asleep now, it couldn't have been how he truly felt. If Aurelian had realized sooner… perhaps Fisé's legs would be warm by now, like a human's. He hadn't even wasted much time downstairs, but even so—he regretted not coming up earlier.

 

"Take in my warmth."

 

Aurelian cupped Fisé's toes in both hands, then slowly moved upward, gently rubbing warmth into his ankles and shins.

 

As though threading Fisé's limbs through a loop made with his hands, he rubbed again and again.

 

Even without massage oil, his fingers slid smoothly over the skin. That cold, deathly flesh slowly began to warm, and for a moment Aurelian felt as though he were reviving someone on the verge of death.

 

"Both legs are warm now. Can I touch your hair next?"

 

Climbing fully onto the bed, Aurelian restrained the desire to touch Fisé's thighs, his waist, and instead stretched forward.

 

As his fingers brushed the black hair spread across the pillow and sheets, a memory surfaced—something Fisé had once told him.

 

"That's something lovers do."

 

Aurelian had been a child then, asking to stroke his hair, and Fisé had said exactly that.

 

And now, now Fisé was letting him—pretending to sleep, not resisting as his hair was touched. Even when Aurelian ran his hand along the fine strands, near enough to feel the curve of his scalp, Fisé didn't move a muscle. It was as though he had surrendered everything.

 

Fisé's hair moved in place of him—so smooth, it slipped between Aurelian's fingers like water. The feel of it was more intoxicating than he'd ever imagined, and the joy of touching it overwhelmed him. He couldn't bring himself to pull his hand away. Even though he longed to touch Fisé's cheek next, both his fingers and his heart were caught.

 

"Can I touch your face? Will you look at me?"

 

Aurelian softly stroked Fisé's hair again, letting the motion flow into cradling the back of his head.

 

He gently turned Fisé's face toward him—his small head moved so easily, and for the first time, Aurelian could gaze upon that beautiful face directly.

 

"Even your sleeping face… is lovely."

 

He knew—knew that if he acknowledged Fisé as awake, this fragile moment would shatter.

 

If he said, "I know you're not really asleep," or asked, "How long are you going to keep pretending?"—Fisé would surely open his eyes. He would blink slowly, look drowsily up, and say something like:

 

"I just woke up. What do you think you're doing? Don't touch me without asking."

 

Aurelian imagined that irritated glare—and the thought only made him love him more.

 

"They say princesses cursed by witches awaken with a kiss from a prince… but I'm not looking to wake you that way. If I did, I don't think I'd be able to stop with just a kiss. That's why… I'd rather you stay asleep, just like this. Until I've had my fill of this moment—until I reach the point of no return… stay as you are."

 

Aurelian slowly lowered Fisé's head back onto the pillow, then finally touched the pale cheek he'd so longed to reach.

 

He pressed a kiss to his forehead—gentle, almost reverent.

 

He hadn't gone straight for his lips. That, he felt, was a gift—a final chance for Fisé to awaken. If he opened his eyes now, they could still return to the closeness of siblings, of a prince and his guardian. Fisé was probably thinking the same, hesitating but holding back, waiting for just the right moment… and still keeping his eyes shut.

 

If you won't wake… then I'll keep going. Because I want to believe this is your answer. That you're allowing this. And that thought alone… fills me with joy. I don't doubt it anymore.

 

He moved from forehead to eyelid, but even the kiss didn't break the stillness.

 

Aurelian leaned over him, scattering gentle kisses across his temple and cheek.

 

He was careful not to let his weight fall, and his hand slid lightly to Fisé's neck.

 

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