Work Text:
The following morning, shortly after Cliopher had at last torn himself away from canoodling with the Lord of Rising Stars, insisting that the offices of state required his presence for at least a little while, his Radiancy requested refreshments for himself and a guest in the small parlour. Conju arrived with the tray to find his Radiancy, alone, sitting in one of the comfortable chairs by the window. He waved Conju up from his genuflection immediately.
“Conju.” His Radiancy spoke quietly, almost hesitant. “Would you join me?” His gesture encompassed the other chair, the table bearing dainties.
Even after the last few days, Conju had to school himself not to show his surprise. This was an unprecedented invitation. “Of course, my lord,” he murmured, and sat, helping himself to a cup of tea at his Radiancy’s nod.
His Radiancy looked at him for a moment without speaking. With his new, unsettling expressiveness, Conju could see how carefully he was examining him, could read the tension there.
“How are you this morning, Conju?” his Radiancy asked.
“I am well, thank you, my lord,” he replied, hoping his confusion was not entirely obvious.
“I am pleased to hear it,” said his Radiancy. He set down his teacup and drew a breath, visibly gathering himself.
“Conju, I have an apology to make to you, and a request. Will you hear me?”
Conju clasped his hands to still their trembling. “I–my lord—” it was unthinkable, yet so would be contradicting him. At last he chose obedience and listened.
His Radiancy chose his words with obvious care. “Yesterday, I revealed a matter that I know surprised you greatly. I know that it must also have hurt you. I am truly sorry to make such a poor return for your years of excellent service, and I beg your forgiveness.”
Conju drew breath for a stout denial, but suddenly could not speak for the tears that rose in his throat. He had not permitted himself to consider the matter – that he had not, through all the years of his devotion, known how to please his lord. But the gentleness in the lion gaze, in the resonant voice, undid him. He put his hand over his mouth, a futile attempt at concealment.
“Oh, Conju,” his Radiancy murmured.
“I have only ever wanted to make you comfortable,” he whispered. “What did I do wrong, to make you feel you could not tell me what you wanted?”
His Radiancy closed his eyes for a moment. “You did nothing,” he said quietly. “Never think so. You have always been exemplary. All fault was mine.”
Conju shook his head, unable to speak. He found his handkerchief and wiped his eyes, willing himself to control. “My lord, I could never be angry with you. Only please, will you tell me, now, what you prefer? Will you let me serve you well?”
“I will try,” his Radiancy promised. “I am trying.”
Conju gestured gratitude, for he did not trust his voice.
“And now,” said his Radiancy, “the request.” Conju heard a new tension in his voice. His insides clenched in anticipation.
His Radiancy leaned forward intently. “Conju, this grief I have caused you—I know it will not disappear simply because I beg your forgiveness. So, I ask you for your oath. That if, in the days to come, you should find yourself hurting more than you can bear—if you are inclined to—to do yourself any injury, you will come to me first.”
This was so far from anything Conju had expected to hear that he could only stare back blankly. His Radiancy was—he thought—no wonder he was always so—
“Conju,” his Radiancy said quietly, eyes downcast. His hands were upturned, open. “Please.”
Conju could see the terror in every restrained line of him. He had a sudden, wild, blasphemous image of the Sun-on-Earth prostrate before him. He wanted to throw himself to the ground instead, to bring back the comforting order of things, but that wasn’t what his lord needed.
“Oh, no, oh my dear lord, I would never. How could I ever choose to leave you? But yes, if it will relieve your mind –” he raised his hands into oath-position— “I swear it.” He forced himself to meet his gaze. He felt dizzy with it, but held fast.
His Radiancy dropped his face into his hands. “Thank you, my Cavalier.”
Conju wanted, with a fury that shook him, to reach out. To take him in his arms and let him weep there. The force of his longing burned in his chest, in his throat, blurred his eyes and dripped hot down his cheeks. Beyond his own care and devotion, returned so many times over, his lord had such fierce protectiveness for them all. For him.
His purpose was to ease the world-sized burden resting on those slim shoulders, and instead his efforts made it heavier. It was intolerable. Conju gathered his resolve and spoke.
“I said that you saved me.” Conju hated how his voice dipped and wobbled, but no matter. “After the Fall, I was—reckless. Liquor, drugs, orgies, anything to stop feeling. You gave me a purpose, a reason to care if I lived or died. I would not spurn that, my lord. You can trust me.”
His Radiancy raised his head and looked at him, with a spark of bright interest and a deep well of compassion. “That is very good to know, my dear. As you saved me by entering my service, I am glad that you received an equal benefit.”
His Radiancy leaned forward, very close. Conju’s head spun from the intensity of his gaze, from his nearness.
“Conju, I can give you nothing that would come close to what you deserve. But as you wish, I will do my best to open to you my true thoughts and opinions. In return, would you honor me with your own?”
“With all my heart, my lord,” Conju promised him. He found a smile. “Although you may come to regret this request.”
“Perhaps.” His Radiancy did not seem concerned. He took up his cup again and sipped his tea. “Now, do enlighten me: why is my court in an uproar about my honored great-aunt? Is it that gardener of hers?”
Conju smiled, and selected a biscuit, and told him.