Love and the Stubborn

by Xenia Melzer

  Casto stared at him, his heart thumping so loud in his chest, he was sure Renaldo could hear it. That was indeed unexpected. “Why are you asking me, Barbarian? As far as I understood, the whole issue is already decided no matter what I want.”

  Renaldo started cursing in the language of the Ancients. His choice of words was most definitely not meant for Casto’s ears.

  Casto watched him with raised eyebrows, deciding for the sheer fun of it to reveal his knowledge of the tongue. “Those are some very nasty words you’re using. I thought a god always knew how to keep his cool?”

  Renaldo was rendered speechless. He had pondered for a long time how to address the difficult topic, since he knew very well how stubborn Casto could be when he felt left out, and now it turned out he’d already known? “Sometimes I’m not sure whether I think it’s a good thing that you’re so knowledgeable. How come you know about the wedding?”

  Casto rolled his eyes. “I’ve read the prophecies, I have ears that function surprisingly well, and in case it has escaped you, Barbarian, I’m not stupid. Since it was announced that there is a high probability of me being your heart, the Valley knows only this topic—when you’re going to marry me.”

  “You never mentioned it.”

  “Well, as I said, I didn’t think I’d have a say in the matter.” And I’m in no hurry to swear my undying loyalty to you in front of witnesses, he added in the privacy of his thoughts.

  With his thumb, Renaldo caressed Casto’s cheek. “So you are going to marry me?”

  Casto returned his gaze with a hint of melancholy. He hated the predicament Renaldo’s words were causing him. “Of course I’m going to do it. Just as little as I could escape you, can I evade your will now.”

  Renaldo didn’t miss the petulance in those words and hurried to soothe him. “I’m sorry, my own. I didn’t want you to feel overlooked. I wanted you to be able to make a decision. We don’t have to do it this winter either. Next year is fine as well.”

  Casto snorted. “Don’t make a fool of yourself. I can feel your tension, Barbarian. You’re not entirely sure whether I’m your heart. Waiting one more year won’t change this but will make you even more insufferable. And as much as I like fighting with you, I’ve no inclination of being accused of having said no to you for the entire year.”

  “But you aren’t completely happy about the situation either.”

  Casto closed his eyes. Of course he wasn’t. How could Renaldo think differently? “No, I’m not. But I love you, you know that. It’s just—I’m realizing how I’m slowly losing all control. That frightens me. And what if the goddess doesn’t recognize me? If I’m not your heart?”

  “Stop it, Casto. You are my heart. I’m absolutely sure.”

  Casto cocked an eyebrow. “Absolutely?”

  “Well, not absolutely. That’s impossible so long as you’re protected by the spell that hides the hearts’ identities. Not even the Holy Mothers themselves can recognize you before I tell them my decision. After that, they’re able to see through the veil, and once they recognize you, it becomes obvious to everybody else. But I’m as sure as I can be. And it would be nice if you trusted me a little more.”

  “I do trust you.” Casto rolled his eyes ironically. “I’ve just proven it to you.” Although he still sounded a little snippy, he got a wolfish grin as an answer.

  “Yes, you did. Let’s stop talking about this. Since you think that you don’t have a say in this, it’s probably futile to ask you when you want to hold the ceremony.”

  Despite his exhaustion, Casto sat up. “Do I really have a say, or are you only doing this to placate me?”

  “A little bit of both. The proceedings during the ceremony are pretty much set in stone because you’re marrying a god.” He grinned saucily. “But there are some decisions that have yet to be made. I’m willing to give you a free hand in those.”

  “I’ll only believe that when it’s really happened,” murmured Casto.

  “You think I can’t do it?”

  “Barbarian, we’ve known each other for almost five years now. I don’t think you can’t do it—I know. You’re so dominant it borders on being ridiculous.”

  “So, I’m dominant and ridiculous?” A dangerous glint entered Renaldo’s eyes.

  Not in the mood to have a fight about his way of phrasing things now, Casto hurried to downplay his statement. “Not ridiculous in the sense you’re thinking, surely not. I just wanted to say that I can hardly imagine you handing control over to somebody else. It’s simply not in your nature.”

  Renaldo was neither happy nor content with that answer. “So you do think I’m ridiculous?”

  “No, Barbarian, I don’t. I’d never dare to suggest something so outrageous.”

  “And that, my cheeky prince, I don’t believe. You always mean what you say and have no problem whatsoever to dare as much as you please. You just earned yourself some punishment.”

  Casto flinched. He wasn’t in the mood for another round of sex. He reverted to pleading, which never came easy to him. “Please, Barbarian. I’m truly exhausted. I didn’t mean to insult you.”

  Without listening, Renaldo grabbed his arm and drew him close. Despite their strenuous games, he wasn’t sated yet. “You should’ve thought about that before you were so impudent. Even though you’re so intelligent, you’re a slow learner in this regard. I’m almost a little disappointed in you.”

  Casto’s eyes betrayed his anger. He was only a breath away from snapping. “Then let me rephrase it, Barbarian,” he hissed. “I don’t want to do it with you today. You should be happy that you’ve outmaneuvered me regarding the wedding. Leave it be.”

  Before he could go on with his tirade, Renaldo kissed him long and deep until Casto’s anger dissipated. When Casto was again soft and slinky in his arms, ready to be taken, Renaldo whispered hoarsely into his ear, “Who am I?”

  The prince trembled in his arms, and overwhelmed by the superior personality of his future husband, he spoke the truth that had taken roots deep in his heart a long time ago. “You are my lover, my master, my lord, and my god.”

  “Good boy. Relax, I’m going to please you.”

  With a sigh, Casto submitted to his will.

  DURING THE following weeks, Sic got used to the never-changing rhythm of pain his punishment was causing him. In the morning he was beaten by Noran; then he worked in the pits, where the continuous, debilitating movements with which he tried to conquer the frozen soil made his wounds reopen on a regular basis. Bleeding and in agony, he went to the stables at noon, where Casto usually assigned him simple tasks that allowed him to recover slightly for the evening, when his master beat him again and then chained him to the anvil.

  That Casto still showed him so much consideration after everything he had done, hurt Sic almost more than the wounds all over his body, which healed only reluctantly and kept him imprisoned in a world of agony.

  He received food in the mornings and evenings, right after his beating. It was simple, meager fare that gave him just enough energy to survive the coming day.

  That evening, Noran had beaten him particularly viciously, the master smith’s mood as black as a raven’s wing. With a careless motion, Noran had thrown the plate of food down in front of him, tipping over the jug of water in the process. Sic watched desperately as the precious fluid vanished into the hard-packed earth of the smithy. He hadn’t had anything to drink since morning and was so thirsty that he’d started feeling dizzy. Trembling, he pressed his forehead to the wet ground.

  Noran watched him coldly. “What do you want, you piece of shit?”

  For a moment, Sic contemplated keeping his mouth shut, but his parched throat forced the words out of him. “Please, Master. Could I have another jug of water?”

  A long silence followed the simple request, a silence in which Sic cursed himself for his forwardness.

  A silence in which Noran vividly remembered a scene from the past. A beautiful, raven-haired woman knel
t in front of him, asking in a husky voice for a new dress. He saw himself giving in to that request, blinded by love as he fulfilled every wish pouring from those red, sensuous lips.

  Noran remembered the humiliation when he finally realized what his brothers-in-arms had known all along: that the beautiful creature was only using him, taking advantage of his power and rank to enrich herself. Back then he had sworn that something like that would never happen again. No slave would ever rise high enough to get the better of him.

  And the little traitor kneeling in front of him, the scum that by all rights should be dead by now, was making demands of him! As impertinent as if nothing had happened, asking for fresh water as if he, Noran, were the servant. He would show this insolent worm, as well as his brothers-in-arms, that he had learned his lesson, that nobody was able to get the better of him now. He would also show them how well he could play the game of manipulation for personal gain. After all, Arja had been the perfect teacher.

  With a kick he shot the plate of food into a corner of the smithy, and then seized Sic mercilessly. He quickly loosened the chains that bound him to the anvil. “How dare you even think about addressing me with a request? Why should I do anything for you? You betrayed me, trampled the trust I put in you just when I had thought about allowing you closer to me. You could have become my right hand, even my lover, given time, but you threw that away. I can’t even begin to tell you how disappointed I am.”

  Noran felt a dark satisfaction when he saw the pain his words caused Sic. They held more truth than he was willing to admit to himself. Sic’s betrayal had shocked him on a level the young man would never be able to understand.

  Tears slid down Sic’s face. “I’m so sorry, Master. All I ever wanted was to be close to you, to serve you well. I never meant to betray you. Please believe me. I know you can’t forgive me, but please believe me.”

  The desperate pleading almost managed to move Noran’s frozen heart. He’d known Sic long enough to know that he meant what he said. All of a sudden, Arja’s face appeared in front of his eyes, and any mercy he felt evaporated. No matter how beautifully he begged, Sic would never change Noran’s decision.

  Determined to get his revenge on both Arja and Sic, he put on a cold smile. “As you can imagine, it’s hard for me to believe anything you have to say. Trust is something one has to earn, and I can’t see how you could accomplish that, not after everything you did.”

  That wasn’t outright denial, and a desperate, impossible hope started to bloom in Sic’s eyes, a hope Noran intended to use to his advantage.

  “I’ll do anything, Master. Anything you ask of me. Please.”

  Noran pretended to think about this request. The despair in Sic’s face made the moment all the sweeter. “Well, I did intend to make you my lover one day. I can’t say I have any feelings for you at the moment, but I don’t need them for you to take care of my needs. Do I, Sic?”

  Sic only stared at his master while the deeper meaning behind his words sunk in. He swallowed hard. Noran was playing with him, testing him, and to his own dismay, Sic was desperate enough to go along. Except for Casto’s forgiveness, he craved nothing more than returning to Noran’s good graces. For that to happen, he was willing to do whatever it took. “If that is your wish, Master, I will do as you please.”

  “Then strip and show me how you intend to please me.”

  With his head lowered, Sic started to undress. He was nervous and frightened and out of his mind because of the emotions warring inside him. He also didn’t know what exactly Noran expected of him. Sic was still a virgin, although growing up in the Valley had been educational. He knew about all the things that would make Noran feel good—at least in theory.

  When he was naked, he approached his master and sank to his knees in front of him. Trembling, Sic reached for Noran’s belt and opened it.

  The master smith didn’t say anything, just watched him with a heated gaze.

  Sic freed Noran’s cock, which was already hardening in anticipation, something Sic counted as a win. He stroked the shaft with his right hand, momentarily distracted by how big it was. An impatient sound from Noran brought Sic back to his task. Hesitantly, he licked over the slit where precum was already leaking. Noran bucked against his lips, and his cock grew even harder. Emboldened, Sic took the tip into his mouth and inhaled the musky scent of his master. Even though he wasn’t doing this entirely of his own free will, he still felt a sliver of arousal. Not enough to distract him from the emotional blackmailing Noran had used, but enough to help him with his task.

  Sic worked his tongue up and down Noran’s cock until the man pulled free of his mouth.

  “That’s enough. As wonderful as your mouth feels, I want to bury my cock someplace else.” Noran nodded toward the worktable in one of the corners. “Get the oil from my workplace. You know where I keep the bottle. Then come back here, lean over the table, and prepare yourself for me.”

  Sic felt his cheeks redden in shame while he did as he was told. Once he was back at the table, he spread his legs far apart, poured a generous amount of oil on his fingers, and then bent forward and started to loosen himself. He could feel Noran watching him. The feeling of being violated grew stronger. This was not how he’d imagined his first time to be. Noran had always played the main role in his sexual fantasies, but Sic had never imagined him to be so detached and cruel. His dream Noran had always treated him with the utmost care and love; he had never just stood there and watched Sic do all the work.

  When Sic thought he was ready to accept his master, he simply spread his asscheeks with both hands.

  Noran approached slowly. If there hadn’t been a slight hitch in the man’s breathing, Sic would have doubted the whole situation affected Noran at all.

  At least he’s feeling something.

  Sic couldn’t help but feel despair. Noran entered him swiftly, taking just enough time to allow Sic to accommodate to his size.

  Once he was completely inside, Noran whispered in Sic’s ear, “This feels good. Maybe I should have done it sooner.”

  Sic shuddered in fear. He wasn’t sure if the man talking to him was still the master he had come to adore when he was a child. Darkness had always surrounded Noran, but the cruelty showing in his words was something new, and Sic didn’t like it. Noran started to move, and while he didn’t hurt Sic, thanks to all the oil, he didn’t give him any pleasure either. He just pounded into Sic until he found release.

  Once Noran was done, he left Sic’s body and the young man could hear the clinking when Noran closed his belt.

  Sic turned slowly, his gaze cast down, unable to look Noran in the face.

  The master smith made a shooing motion. “Get back to the anvil. Since you satisfied me quite well, I’m willing to give you some water.”

  Against his will, Sic felt a wave of gratitude wash over him. Noran was pleased enough to be lenient. What was happening between them was twisted, and Noran was using him, but Sic had no choice. Of course he could always deny Noran, and with luck the master smith would respect Sic’s no even though he was a traitor and free game, but it would also mean that Noran would never forgive him. The mere thought made Sic shudder. After all he had done, he’d been given a second chance. Sic was determined not to waste it.

  When Noran brought him a fresh tray with food and, more importantly, a jug full of water, Sic lowered his head demurely. “Thank you, Master. You’re very generous.”

  Noran huffed but didn’t say anything in return. He simply placed the food on the floor and left Sic alone.

  THE NEXT morning, his master woke him as usual with a kick before he beat him. Sic lost count twice because he was so nervous about what would come after the punishment. So instead of the usual five blows, he received twelve. When Noran was done, he cast the strap aside.

  Sic could hear him opening his belt.

  “Last night was adequate. Let’s find out if you have improved.”

  With tears stinging in his eyes, Sic kn
elt and started licking his master’s cock. This time, Noran fucked Sic’s mouth until he came. Hot seed poured down Sic’s throat, and he tried desperately to swallow it all to satisfy Noran.

  After Noran slipped his now-soft cock from Sic’s mouth, the young man stayed on his knees. He didn’t dare to look at his master or even move.

  Noran looked down on him and couldn’t help but feel glee. The slave would learn to submit completely to his will, and very soon, Sic would understand that the center of his world was Noran’s pleasure. A tiny voice in the back of his head told him what he was doing was wrong, but Noran only had to think of Arja’s cold smile and the voice died down.

  He shoved another tray with bread and water toward Sic. “Eat, and then get going.”

  Sic’s voice was nothing more than a whisper. “Yes, Master.”

  3. Reconciliation

  HOW HE managed to get through the morning, Sic couldn’t tell. He felt like he was caught in a nightmare. The ever-present pain in his back was accompanied by an almost unbearable agony inside his heart. He dreaded the afternoon in the stables and the evening when he would surely have to indulge his master again. His emotions were in such turmoil he no longer knew what he was thinking or feeling. Only the pain in his soul and body seemed real. Like a marionette, he moved through the day, grateful for the hard work that at least allowed his mind to get some rest.

  CASTO HEARD shoes shuffling quickly over the icy ground and looked up in surprise. Sic was hurrying past him, looking as pale as the snow, which was still several ells high. With furrowed brows, Casto followed him into the stables. It wasn’t like Sic to simply ignore him. If anything, he was hell-bent on not giving Casto the slightest reason to beat him.

  From one of the tack rooms, the monotonous rushing of running water was interwoven with hoarse, desperate sobbing. Casto entered the room, unsure whether he should feel anger or pity. Sic was standing with his back turned toward Casto, in front of the small basin at the wall. Sic had taken off his clothes and was washing his body with rigid motions.