The Forest King

by Alex Faure

  “How many?” The words were out before Darius could draw them back. He cursed himself silently. At a moment like this, what did that matter?

  Fionn gave him an opaque look. “You tell me first.”

  “I…”

  “You can’t remember.” Fionn laughed. “You’ve had so many lovers you’ve lost count. Darius, sometimes you are the exact picture of how my people see you Romans.”

  “If you answer the question,” Darius said a trifle defensively, “I won’t mock you for it, whatever the number is.”

  Fionn played with the blankets. “Three. That includes you.”

  Darius nodded. “And the others were both men?”

  Fionn gave him a strange look. “Yes.”

  “It isn’t obvious,” Darius said. Sometimes, speaking to Fionn felt like speaking to someone Darius had known for years; other times, he was felt as if he were with a man who had recently fallen from the sky. “I myself don’t prefer one over the other.”

  “You enjoy women?” Fionn was watching Darius with an artless curiosity that reminded Darius how young he was. Fionn’s quick mind and natural authority made it easy to forget he was nineteen years old.

  Darius shrugged. “I enjoy being with others. The act may be different in mechanics, but I’ve never seen any reason to disdain variety.”

  “Variety,” Fionn repeated. “And all Romans are like this?”

  “No,” Darius said slowly. How much of this would he need to explain? “Variety extends to preferences as well.”

  Fionn’s brow was furrowed. Darius couldn’t tell if he was offended by what he had said, unable to comprehend it, or something else entirely. He again had the sense that they were still speaking different languages.

  “I’m sorry,” he said. “I seem to have led us from the path into the wilderness. You were saying?”

  Fionn nodded. “You probably didn’t notice, but I had men looking for you at Attervalis when we attacked the fort. In fact, I instructed several of my warriors to find the Roman commander and bring him safely to me. Sedd was among them.”

  “Sedd?” Darius searched his memory. “I don’t recall seeing him at Attervalis.”

  “No. In the chaos, your paths didn’t cross. You fled to Undanum with your men while Sedd stayed behind to search the bodies of the fallen. This I also instructed him to do.”

  “I see.” Darius heard the edge in his own voice. “You wanted me alive or dead.”

  “Darius.” Fionn’s eyes were dark. “I took every measure I could to ensure you stayed alive. But I didn’t truly believe I would lose you. Our paths have crossed for a reason. They can’t easily be separated again.”

  Darius let out a breath. “Our meeting has been ordained by your gods, has it?”

  Fionn made no reply. He merely watched him, his face unreadable.

  “I know the rest,” Darius said. “Your men attacked me. They captured but didn’t kill me, and brought me to you, by your instruction. And here I am.”

  Fionn smiled. “Here you are. Outside my bedroom. But that isn’t all…You may have wondered why, several days ago, I offered you sanctuary here, a chance to change sides. I didn’t do this because I expected you to openly accept then. I merely wanted to plant the seed of your remaining here in the minds of my councillors. That way, once you were found to be the lanachai, they would react more favourably. Familiarity can make strange ideas more palatable.”

  “I see,” Darius said. He wondered if Fionn viewed his councillors as chess pieces, too. “And is that also why you took me to your supposed treaty negotiations with the Robogdi? To have your people grow used to my presence at your side?”

  “No,” Fionn said. “I never believed the Robogdi wanted to treat with us. I knew they would betray us after the Roman threat was destroyed, because that is who they are. When I walked into their trap, I wanted you at my side.”

  Darius’s breath felt cold in his chest. “Then you…you knew we were going to be attacked. You risked your life—your people’s lives. And for what?”

  “I risked a few lives,” Fionn agreed. “Though the risk was calculated. I believed I could fend off a Robogdi attack, especially given that I chose the path we took myself, as well as the place of ambush. I know that terrain intimately, and I knew how the Robogdi would strike, for I’ve been studying their battle tactics my entire life. We were well positioned to defeat them, and we did.”

  “Barely.” Darius forced down the anger rising in his throat. “You were nearly killed. Don’t you remember?”

  “I wasn’t nearly killed,” Fionn said. He smiled faintly. “You saved me. As I knew you would, my love. Because that man you rescued me from wasn’t Robogdi. He was mine. So were the creatures who knocked me over.”

  Darius was unable to speak. His mind flashed back to those terrible moments in the grove. The creature made of branches and leaves. The Robogdi warriors, half-seen, who had launched the boulder that knocked Fionn—graceful, quick-thinking Fionn—of his feet, and pinned him to the ground. The giant who had gone down so easily in spite of Darius’s lack of fighting prowess, whose eyes had gleamed yellow as an animal’s the moment before they emptied.

  “Who were they?” His mouth was dry.

  “You know who they were.” Fionn’s voice was quiet. He watched Darius with a glimmer of wariness. “You saw them.”

  The creatures. The fey things that had seemed like pieces of the forest, circling him, whispering strange things.

  “I said they were mine,” Fionn said. “But in truth, they belong to no one. They’ve done favours for me before, and they obliged me again this time.”

  “And you—” Darius’s head spun. “You planned all of this.”

  “I needed you,” Fionn said. He looked young again. “I needed you to be my lanachai. So I needed to give you an opportunity to play the part, to become the story. And you did.”

  Darius could barely draw breath. The intricacy of it was frightening. That Fionn had engineered this so skilfully, arranging men and events like the hand of a god so that, in the end, everything would play out exactly as he desired, was stunning. And yet…hadn’t Darius always known Fionn’s gift for strategy, as Fionn had teasingly put it? His mind was like cut glass, and he had shown at every opportunity such a thorough understanding of the Roman position vis-à-vis the Hibernians that Darius had never known in an unschooled barbarian.

  And when he thought of that, he realized something else. A truth that had been in front of him for so long, and yet he had not seen it.

  “You said you would start at the beginning,” Darius said. His throat hurt, as if the words were sharp. “Was that the beginning?”

  Fionn watched him, his eyes narrowed.

  “You were behind the nightfire, weren’t you?” Darius felt untethered to the earth. “Not the Robogdi. Not your father, the old king. No one but you could have devised it. However it came about, it was your doing.”

  Darius expected him to deny it, or perhaps change the subject as had been his habit in the past. But Fionn said, “Is that all you think I did, Darius?”

  Darius said nothing. He could hear his own shallow breathing in the still chamber.

  “The Robogdi don’t celebrate the solstice,” Fionn said.

  Darius forced himself to take in the words. “They don’t—”

  “Your translator was lying to you,” Fionn said. “At my instruction. He told you they were gathering at Glyncalder to celebrate the solstice. You know now we were planning an invasion, that we used the nightfire to gain access to your fort.”

  Darius’s hands clenched. “The Celts we captured in the woods—they were yours. Volundi.”

  “Honour in war may be overvalued, but it isn’t valueless,” Fionn said. “They knew you’d likely put them to death. Yes, they were Volundi. The man who slipped the nightfire into the well was a friend of mine. I mourn him still.

  “You’re right that the nightfire was my idea,” Fionn went on. “My father doesn’t approve
of those sorts of tactics. Clean victories on battlefields are all he understands. He let me take charge of the plan, though he believed I’d fail. The defeat of Sylvanum may have been the one time in his life he’s been truly proud of me.” The words were flat.

  “The nightfire.” Darius forced the words out, his throat painfully tight. “That wasn’t just a defeat. It was a humiliation. And you have the gall to even speak the word honour?”

  Fionn shrugged. He seemed unconcerned by Darius’s reaction, or perhaps he had simply expected it. “Tell me an honourable way to capture a Roman fort. You know that our technology is inferior to yours, our warriors less disciplined. Tell me, what should I have done? Knocked on your gates and politely asked to be let in?”

  Darius made no reply. He barely recognized Fionn.

  “Sylvanum was only part of my plan,” Fionn continued. “Surely you know that now? There were three Roman forts, not one. I wanted Sylvanum because I wanted your onagers. I knew that the only way defeat an enemy with superior technology was by stealing that technology.”

  “And you got them,” Darius said, his voice low and strained. “And the Robogdi, too. How did you convince them to follow your schemes so well? They can’t have liked answering to a Volundi princeling.”

  “You’ve hit on one of the weaknesses in the plan,” Fionn said. “Our alliance with the Robogdi was always tenuous. That’s where Nestag came in.”

  Darius’s thoughts flew back to Marcus. After the destruction of Sylvanum, he and Commander Albinus had attacked the nearest large Robogdi settlement. But all they’d found there had been women, children, and old men—few warriors.

  “I anticipated your attack on the village, of course,” Fionn said.

  “And yet you did nothing about it,” Darius snapped. “Another flaw in your strategy?”

  “It was no flaw,” Fionn said. “I wanted Nestag destroyed. Why do you think I lured their warriors out of the town with false reports of a Roman incursion further south?”

  Darius felt sick. “You ensured their women and children would be slaughtered.”

  Fionn gave him a long look. “Slaughtered on Roman swords. But yes, I will take credit for it, for I moved the pieces into place. I needed the Robogdi to be motivated to follow my plan, to stay true to our alliance. Nestag was motivating.”

  “Motivating.”

  “Once I was assured that Culland would stay in line, I could put the rest of the plan in motion. I used the stolen cannons to cripple Attervalis, ensuring that you would send for a supply ship.”

  Darius bent his head onto his hand. “You wanted the supply ship.”

  “I wanted the supply ship,” Fionn agreed. “Once it was sighted offshore, I had your translator—who was my man all along—volunteer to go aboard. He started the fire on that ship, and after the Romans fled in confusion, we snuck onboard under cover of darkness and stole your explosives. Not the safest mission, but it was successful enough. We lost only two men.”

  Darius didn’t lift his head. It was all too much. He couldn’t take it in.

  “Then, of course,” Fionn continued relentlessly, “We attacked Attervalis in earnest. At that point, though you didn’t realize it, Attervalis was already lost. We could have used the stolen cannons and explosives to rout you, but there was still another fort, after all. So I waited until you sent for reinforcements from Undanum. When you did, you left Undanum undermanned, and divided your forces. We were waiting for those reinforcements, of course, and defeated them through sheer superiority of numbers before they could come within sight of Attervalis. Then we blew up both forts.”

  Darius didn’t reply. Fionn was silent for a full moment before he said, “And?”

  “And nothing. That’s all.” Fionn leaned back.

  Darius let out a breath of laughter. “That’s all.”

  “I promised I would be honest with you.” Darius couldn’t see Fionn’s face, but his voice was quiet.

  He lifted his head. “Then let me be honest with you. What you’ve done to my people—as well as those women and children in that village—wasn’t just without honour. It was without humanity.”

  Fionn flinched. Some distant part of Darius was relieved that he was capable of getting a reaction from Fionn, of piercing his cool composure, however momentarily. “Darius—”

  “Don’t bother,” Darius said bitterly. “I already know what you’re going to say. My people invaded your lands. Why should I think we’d be received with anything approaching respect? I know that’s true. I know what we did. But I also know what you did, and I can’t change the fact that it disgusts me.”

  “And do I disgust you, Darius?” Fionn said quietly.

  Darius didn’t reply. They sat in silence, the only noise in the room coming from the lamp sputtering on the table.

  “And me?” Darius said finally. “Where do I fit into all this? What piece in this grand chess game of yours do I represent?”

  Fionn gazed at him. “You aren’t part of it, Darius. You never were. I was as surprised by you as you have been by me.”

  Fionn’s hair in the lantern light was golden, his pale skin suffused with unexpected warmth. Only his silver eyes were unaffected, flashing in the dimness like a forest animal’s. His lips parted. He reached out and touched Darius’s hand.

  Darius pushed him away. He stood, but because Fionn had hold of his arm, Fionn stood with him. He shoved him, but Fionn grabbed him again, pulling Darius down onto the bed.

  Darius kissed him hard enough to bruise. One hand went to Fionn’s throat—he didn’t squeeze, only held him there in place, a silent threat. But when he tried to pull away, Fionn’s legs were wrapped against his. Fionn’s hand tangled in Darius’s hair and pulled.

  Darius hissed in pain. He tightened his grip on Fionn’s throat, and Fionn let out a low groan—not of pain, but of pleasure. His gaze was hard on Darius’s, and there was more honesty in it than he’d shown him at any point before tonight.

  “Like that, do you?” Darius murmured. His voice was rough and bitter. Part of him knew that they couldn’t do this now, not with fury coursing through him. He drew back, pushed himself up off the bed. Fionn followed, wrenching him around. Darius shoved him hard against the wall.

  Fionn’s head struck wood. His eyes fixed on Darius, full of surprise and desire. Darius pressed himself against Fionn’s body, holding him in place, and kissed him.

  He knew he needed to stop. But as Fionn’s tongue brushed his, he lost all sense of anything beyond the space that held their bodies. They stumbled towards the bed, removing clothing as they went. Darius pulled on Fionn’s tunic so hard that he heard it rip. He didn’t care. His hands were in Fionn’s soft curls, and then they were cupping bare skin. They landed back on the bed with Fionn on top.

  He put his mouth against Darius’s ear. “Hit me.”

  Darius let out a fluttering breath. “I can’t. Fionn, we—”

  “You want it, Darius.” And he turned on hands and knees, presenting his bare buttocks to Darius.

  Darius slid his hands over him, slid them up his back. Fionn sighed and lowered his head, submission in every line of his body. Darius buried his face in Fionn’s hair. “Fionn, we can’t. Not like this.” In spite of himself, he couldn’t help clenching his hand around Fionn’s buttocks, and squeezing.

  “Would you prefer a whip?” Fionn murmured

  Darius moistened his lips. He felt dizzy, drunk. He wanted to—he wanted to very dearly. This wasn’t the sort of play he engaged in as a habit, and while he’d fantasized about Fionn in a variety of positions, this hadn’t been one of them. Yet it felt right.

  He looked at Fionn, his pale, bent head, the supple lines of his body. He wanted Fionn so badly, wanted him under him. His desire warred with his fury, making it impossible to distinguish where one ended and the other began. That realization brought him back to himself.

  “We can’t,” he said with finality.

  Fionn made a frustrated sound that was more animal
than human. Before Darius knew what was happening, he was on his back with Fionn above him again, one leg on either side of Darius’s hips.

  Fionn ran his hand down Darius’s chest, and Darius felt the touch like a trail of fire. Fionn bent and took one of Darius’s nipples into his mouth. Darius couldn’t contain the gasp of pleasure. Fionn moved to the other nipple. His body above Darius’s was nubile as a cat’s, his hips canted and his cock brushing Darius’s teasingly as he nuzzled him. He was always like this during sex, as Darius now knew well—it was as if the act brought out that side of him that was of the wilderness, savage and fey. Darius squeezed Fionn’s buttocks, and then, barely conscious of what he was doing, his fingers slid inside Fionn. Fionn murmured something and pressed himself onto Darius’s hand, his back arching. He drew back and gripped Darius’s cock.

  Darius’s breath caught. He could do nothing but watch as Fionn moved his hand slowly up and down the shaft. When he released his grip, Darius’s cock shone with oil. Fionn stoppered the flask he’d drawn from under the bed. Then in a single, practiced motion, he shifted position and lowered himself onto Darius’s cock.

  Darius cried out. His hands went instinctively to Fionn’s hips, guiding him. He didn’t slide in right away, but slowly, inch by inch, as Fionn rocked and bounced himself onto his cock.

  “Yes,” Fionn murmured. Darius raised himself into a half-sitting position and took one of Fionn’s nipples into his mouth. Slowly, Fionn bucked up and down on Darius’s cock, liquid grace in every movement, his pale hair a golden star in the darkness. Then Darius was deep inside him.

  He felt the ache rising, and as it did, Fionn lifted his chin with his fingertips, capturing him in his gaze as he thrust Darius into himself. Darius had never felt anything like the connection between them in that moment—it was as if he’d spent his entire life broken and lost, and now he was home, and whole. The gazed at each other as Fionn bucked faster, and even as they came undone, Fionn’s mouth clenching at the pain of release. Darius grabbed his head as it coursed through them, pulling their mouths together. Fionn moaned against his tongue, and they collapsed onto the bed in a heap of limbs.