The stream babbles merrily like a giggling child. The water is cool as it sloshes over the smooth stone, seeping into his shoes as he steps from one stone to the next. The stream is not so deep that he needs to keep his feet out of it, but Al-Haitham was insistent under the grounds that sickness would devour him like a foul beast. Kaveh was not eager to agree, but he did not voice his complaints as Al-Haitham took his hand like a kind-hearted knight escorting a princess. The metaphor is inaccurate on many levels, but Kaveh is unable to really think about it when Al-Haitham willingly treads through the brisk waters to keep Kaveh balanced on the stones. When the blonde shows signs of slipping, Al-Haitham is quick to steady him in a way that makes Kaveh's heart lurch with emotions he thought he buried so far deep inside himself, that it would have been appropriate to construct gravestones.

Al-Haitham steps onto the shore. His wet shoes sink into the dirt, the beginnings of mud staining the leather material. Kaveh could apologize, but he didn't tell Al-Haitham to walk through the stream or to take Kaveh's hand. The duke did all of that himself, and Kaveh's only crime is allowing it to happen. Despite this, it doesn't feel much like a sin when Al-Haitham turns to face Kaveh with a gentle expression on his face instead of an annoyed or angry one at having his shoes partially ruined. Al-Haitham isn't smiling, but he isn't frowning, either. Kaveh is still unnerved by the easiness brushing across the handsome face, but he is slowly getting used to it. He's no longer frightened by it, at least.

Al-Haitham lifts his other hand to Kaveh. The blonde actively takes it. When Al-Haitham takes a step back, lightly tugging Kaveh forward, the blonde mirrors his actions. He also feels the ground shift beneath his shoes, but there are no muddy stains on his shoes other than the soles. Kaveh could check on them, but Al-Haitham had only released one of his hands, not both of them. Al-Haitham intertwines their fingers, coaxing Kaveh to follow him through the sparsely forested area. The blonde pulls at his cloak, lifting it above the underbrush Al-Haitham fearlessly meanders through instead of following the vaguely defined dirt path. Kaveh says nothing, asking no questions about the circumstances he has unwittingly found himself in.

Al-Haitham stops suddenly, turning on his heel. Kaveh sucks in a tight breath, an excuse on his tongue. Al-Haitham gives him a wary smile. Kaveh tries to ignore the relief that thunders through him. Al-Haitham is no closer to regaining his lost memories. Many of the doctors have given up on trying to bring them back. Al-Haitham's aunt wants them returned immediately, and Kaveh has a feeling the duke wants to regain them, too. Kaveh is among the very few who hope they stay forgotten forever, but then again, Kaveh doesn't entirely care if Al-Haitham gets them back sooner rather than later. Kaveh is having a lot of trouble keeping his heart out of Al-Haitham's hands. It is as if the metaphorical core of Kaveh's emotions doesn't understand that Al-Haitham is the one who will crush it mercilessly. If Al-Haitham remembers everything, they can stop this whole facade before Kaveh's defenses come crashing down around him.

"May I cover your eyes?" Al-Haitham asks, standing in front of Kaveh. He has not gotten shorter, obviously, but it no longer feels like Al-Haitham is towering over him when they stand this close to each other. Kaveh is almost more terrified of not being intimidated than he is of the alternative.

"The lord may do as he wishes," Kaveh murmurs, avoiding Al-Haitham's eyes. While they are often the cruelest part of Al-Haitham's appearance, they are also the most handsome in Kaveh's opinion. When those eyes are happy, Kaveh feels like all his worries wash away in an instant. Those are the kind of eyes that make people put their lives in Al-Haitham's hands without truly thinking about it. Kaveh, too, would willingly put his life in Al-Haitham's hands if those eyes continued to stare at him with such fondness.

As Al-Haitham steps around Kaveh, putting a hand over the blonde's eyes, he believes that he is giving his life to Al-Haitham. What other reason could there be for Al-Haitham taking him this far away from the manor while still being on Haravatat property? Al-Haitham is probably trying to dispose of him. Kaveh's stomach twists at the thought. He has spent so long not bothering if his life was taken from him or not, so why does he feel hesitant now? Is it because he doesn't want this kinder version of Al-Haitham to hurt him?

Al-Haitham puts his other hand on the small of Kaveh's back. He nudges Kaveh forward, twisting his hand to keep the blonde from tripping over unseen tree roots or rocks left hidden in the underbrush. Kaveh feels the plants brush against his ankles. He suppresses the ensuing giggle since nothing else about this situation is funny. Kaveh wonders, fleetingly, if Al-Haitham is also tickled by the small plants growing at their feet. Kaveh doesn't think he's ever heard Al-Haitham genuinely laugh. He would have rather liked to at some point, but he supposes the duke wouldn't find anything other than his misery hilarious.

Al-Haitham stops Kaveh's movements. He shuffles a half-step toward Kaveh, standing directly behind the surprisingly calm blonde.

"I will be removing my hand," Al-Haitham warns, whispering into Kaveh's ear. This closeness used to send chills down Kaveh's spine, but this time, the heat from his stomach rose to his cheeks. He blames it on embarrassment and nothing else. Instead, he focuses on the light that creeps into his vision as Al-Haitham does as he said he would. Kaveh squints, blinking rapidly, and soon, his vision clears completely.

Kaveh's lips part in surprise and awe. Instead of some random cliff-face or the entrance to a ravine, Al-Haitham has brought Kaveh to the top of a slanted hill. Tree roots poke out of the ground, mounds of dirt kept in place by them and the bundles of grass that grow. At the bottom of the hill, dozens of flowers form into an expansive multi-colored field. Darkness shrouds a thicker forest on the other side of the flower field, but the sun is just barely visible above the spear-like treetops. The sky is painted in rich reds and oranges. The flickering shades of purple exist on the edges, allowing night to creep above the horizon.

Al-Haitham wraps his arms around Kaveh's shoulder. He leans his forehead against Kaveh's shoulder. The blonde is surprised by that action. The view is so magnificent. He doesn't understand how Al-Haitham could tear his eyes away from it. Kaveh's fingers twitch at his sides with the urge to ink this scene onto paper even though he knows he will not do it any justice. He doesn't have nearly the right hues, but he wants to make an attempt. Al-Haitham might be able to translate this scene into prose, and Kaveh has the audacity to feel a sprouting of jealousy in his gut.

"I found this place while hunting. I knew I wanted to show it to you the moment I saw it," Al-Haitham explains. He tilts his head to the side, glancing up at Kaveh. Although he only sees the duke from the corner of his eye, Kaveh knows the expression on his face. He knows it, but he doesn't believe it for even a second. His stomach twists painfully hard, trying to distract him from what simply cannot be. What shouldn't be.

"I also have a gift for you," Al-Haitham remarks. He lifts his head from Kaveh's shoulder. He keeps his arms around Kaveh as he walks around to stand in front of the blonde instead of behind him. The strange look in his eyes has not dissipated in the slightest. It grows sharper as Al-Haitham puts his hands on Kaveh's cheeks. His skin is cold, but the touch is pleasant. Kaveh has half a mind to start regretting initiating physical contact with Al-Haitham and giving the duke the impression it was fine to do so in turn, but Kaveh doesn't have the strength to deny these unwavering touches. Despite steadily becoming more frequent, they are no less appreciated even with lessening rarity. Kaveh enjoys each and every one, though he refuses to admit as such under any circumstances.

Al-Haitham pulls his hands away for a moment to reach into his coat. He pulls something out from an inner pocket. His fingers close around the object. A pale green light shines through the cracks of his fist. He takes Kaveh's wrist to place the object into the blonde's hand gently. Kaveh stares at it for a long moment. The gift is a dark green rhombohedron made from glass that glows faintly in Kaveh's palm. A symbol is carved into the surface, but Kaveh doesn't recognize it. He just knows that it must be one of the languages the Haravatat heirs are forced to learn in their youth. Kaveh is curious about the symbol's meaning, but he also has a feeling he doesn't actually want to know.

"My grandmother gave it to me before she passed away. It is one of my prized possessions, one of the few material objects I hold in high regard. I wanted to give it to you in case my memories come back and I cannot remember the time we are spending together now. If this other version of me realizes you have this, I will know immediately that our time together is not a lie made up by my subordinates," Al-Haitham explains. He puts both of his hands underneath the back of Kaveh's hand. He slowly folds Kaveh's fingers around the glass shard. He keeps his hands there, knowing immediately that Kaveh will try to give the shard back.

"Would you not simply assume I had stolen it?" Kaveh asks, glaring up at Al-Haitham. Truthfully, he glares because it is a thoughtful gift. Possessing this object smooths over Kaveh's lingering fears, and he can't deny that Al-Haitham giving him something so sentimentally valuable sends a giddy feeling throughout his body. A creeping guilt lingers in his body at the idea of having the last gift Al-Haitham's grandmother gave him, but Al-Haitham's face is contorted with as determination as it was when he asked Kaveh to give him a chance to right the wrongs he cannot remember.

"I have kept this object on my person at all times since I received it. There is no feasible way for you to have stolen it without my knowledge. If I despised you as much as others say I did, I would have punished you greatly for stealing this from me," Al-Haitham notes mildly, putting his hand back on Kaveh's cheek. Kaveh presses his closed hands against his chest, letting the green light shine across his heart. Kaveh could think about the punishments that will befall him when the version of Al-Haitham that remembers Kaveh returns, but he doesn't. He just leans forward, putting his forehead against Al-Haitham's chest and letting his worries seep away from him.

—

There are two new people in the household. Nilou told Kaveh about it first, mentioning that he had neighbors now. Cyno confirms this matter, giving a visual description of the two women he has seen entering and leaving the room. Tighnari explained to Kaveh and Collei about one of the women. She was trapped in a time prison for 100 years. She only recently found freedom, and she returned to her childhood home. She was surprisingly healthy for someone displaced out of time. Al-Haitham confirmed everyone's testimonies, and it was through him that Kaveh finally met the two individuals.

Faruzan Haravatat was both similar and vastly different from Al-Haitham. They were both rather serious with dry senses of humor, and a determination that could shake the foundation of the kingdom. Faruzan was more forthcoming with her emotions, however, and she valued a person's position far more than Al-Haitham did. Her haughtiness was smothered by her almost vicious caring attitude. One look at Kaveh was all it took for her to take him under her wing. Kaveh was not sure what that entailed until she took over his lessons and pestered him during every mealtime to eat more. Al-Haitham was willing to kick her out, but Kaveh asked Al-Haitham to let her stay. Kaveh wasn't going to admit it aloud, but Faruzan was kind in her own way. She was brilliant, helpful, and motherly, though Kaveh would never, ever tell anyone that last one.

The other person who came with Faruzan was not someone who was displaced by time. Layla Rtawahist was born in this era. Although she was often aloof and unsociable, she possessed the same kindness and integrity as the woman she came with. Layla was quick to befriend Kaveh as they were the only Rtawahists in the entire household. Luckily, Kaveh found as much comfort in her as she did in him. They were both very unlike the man who sent them into this household.

Layla's skills as a servant were, for lack of a better word, atrocious. Nilou was eager to help her out, but her shortcomings were many and her aptitude for improvement was lacking. One of the few reasons Faruzan kept her around other than her genuinely pure heart was because Layla was a genius astronomer. No one could come close to her speed at drawing and reading star charts. Her comprehension levels were faster and more accurate than the students at the Akademiya or the astronomers working for the royal family. There was even a chance she was greater than Azar, but Layla would never admit that and Azar would never let that happen. Probably why she ended up in this household despite being as terrible at spying as she was at being a servant.

Layla and Kaveh took classes with Faruzan during the day. It was a way for them all to fill their time since they didn't exactly have jobs. Layla's only objective was to serve Faruzan and observe the Haravatat household. Kaveh should have been acting as the caretaker of the house, but Al-Haitham's aunt usurped his power a long time ago and Kaveh didn't have the motivation to earn it back. Faruzan, too, could have taken on the responsibility, but she often went on and on about leaving the duties of the present to the younger generation rather than her generation. So, to that end, they assembled together so that Faruzan might teach them more about subjects they would otherwise never get to learn about.

"You are doing better at this than I thought, Lord Kaveh," Faruzan remarks, tapping her screwdriver against the machine Kaveh was tinkering with. Through unknown means, Al-Haitham acquired many machines left behind by an ancient civilization. Faruzan confiscated them, bringing them to class with her. She spread many of the machines across the table Kaveh and Layla jointly used as a desk. Faruzan sat at the head of the table, bringing out a toolbox for her students to borrow from. As expected, Layla was really only good at machines that seemed to serve some astrological purpose. Kaveh, on the other hand, was unexpectedly great at whatever machine landed in his hands. "With those skills, I would have thought you came from the Kshahrewar family, not Rtawahist."

Kaveh's lips part, but he doesn't respond. He instead narrows his eyes at the machine. He moves one of the wires out of his way. He doesn't look at Faruzan to avoid her questioning stare, and he doesn't look at Layla because he senses her awkward anxiety. Kaveh knew he could break down no matter which pair of eyes he glanced into. Kaveh has spent so long refusing to cry in front of other people that it has become one of the few truths he clings to in this household.

When Kaveh and Layla fall silent, Faruzan takes it as a cue to keep talking. They are normally fine with this, but Kaveh's body trembles faintly as she keeps going, entirely distracted by the mechanical core resting in her palm. "You resemble that family, too. Blonde hair isn't exactly rare, but the brunette roots are as indicative of Kshahrewar as central heterochromia is for Haravatat. I suppose your red eyes are not too far off from the orange shade most Rtawahist heirs have, though. Could one of your parents be from Kshahrewar? Did Kshahrewar and Rtawahist have an alliance before Rtawahist and Haravatat did?"

"Umm... Madam Faruzan... Kshahrewar is, er, well, gone," Layla answers, whispering and leaning closer to Faruzan as if she doesn't want Kaveh to overhear. Kaveh raises an eyebrow at her. While most people know he's the adopted son of Azar, they all assume he came from a distant branch family. Kaveh cannot deny Layla's intellect, but he doesn't think she could have figured his situation out on her own. She either did his fortune to discover the truth, or Azar told her the truth for reasons that the duke alone must know.

"How can that be? Sumeru is built upon the pillars of the six darshans. The removal of one is tantamount to removing the supporting wall in a house. It will collapse, but Sumeru seems fine to me," Faruzan asks, her face whitening with shock. While a lot can change in 100 years, the collapse of a prominent noble house must be something not even Faruzan could anticipate.

"There were a lot of factors that led to its decline. Eventually, the royal family revoked their title and confiscated their assets. The decree was made nearly forty years ago, but no one treated it like a ducal house for many years before that point," Layla is next to silent as she speaks. Her fingers fidget together. Her eyes roam across the room, pointedly avoiding both Faruzan and Kaveh. He raises an eyebrow at her, and she genuinely squeaks when they make eye contact for a moment. Kaveh frowns; he doesn't want to frighten the poor girl.

"How could this have happened, though? Should the royal family have not helped the family as soon as the decline began? Did the other ducal houses not participate in the revitalization? Do they not realize how much Kshahrewar does for this nation?" Faruzan's nose scrunches together as she demands answers at full volume. She is not a naturally loud person, but her voice echoes in the large room transformed into a regularly used classroom.

"Well, about that, umm... It was– most people assume— there's minimal proof, but— it was probably done on purpose. The decline was, er, orchestrated by—"

"As Layla said, there is minimal proof. Kshahrewar is gone. Maybe one of my parents was a member of the fallen house," Kaveh interrupts. This is partially to relieve Layla from her stressed ramblings, but also because he doesn't want to hear them.

"Hmph," Faruzan's frustration is evident as she leans back in her chair. She crosses one arm over her chest and uses the other to twirl her hair. As Faruzan descends into her thoughts, Layla and Kaveh make eye contact with one another. Layla looks apologetic and sick. Kaveh reaches across the table to grab her hand. It isn't their fault what happened. They just have to live knowing what kind of blood flows through their veins. She arguably has it worse than him, in any case, so Kaveh feels more sympathy for her than she should feel for him. Still, Layla squeezes his hand tightly, trying her best to smile at him. In moments like these, she looks nothing like Azar, and Kaveh finds himself smiling back at her.

—

There are many responsibilities the nobility have. They are meant to lead their lands, spreading prosperity and good health to every home. They should handle their households— assets, titles, properties, etc. During wartime, they contribute to the effort through monetary means or by assembling enough soldiers to tilt the scales in their kingdom's favor. During peacetime, they are meant to build an image of unity that the common folk will aspire to emulate. This final responsibility has many ways it can be performed, but one of the most favorable is grand parties thrown at the nobility's lavish houses.

Kaveh has been to a few parties since becoming Lord Haravatat. The first was his wedding, but it barely counts since there wasn't a reception and no one was having any fun at the ceremony itself. The first gathering he went to after that was by himself, and he will never do that again. The humiliation he suffered was enough to make him want to become a shut-in. The next few parties were manageable since no one dared mess with him when he came with Duke Haravatat, but Al-Haitham was not eager to stay with Kaveh. They would get into an argument every time about it, especially the first time when Kaveh legitimately begged Al-Haitham to stay with him for just a few moments longer. When the love in Kaveh's heart dwindled into a pathetic spark best left to be smothered, he didn't attend any more parties. Al-Haitham went alone, if he went at all, and Lady Haravatat went to any functions that were mandatory to attend.

Kaveh stays in the carriage for a moment longer than he should. He stares at the royal palace. He had been here once before when Azar adopted him, but it was daytime then. Night has fallen across the world, so the palace is lit up in several shades of gold and fiery orange. Music trickles out of the many open windows, and Kaveh can hear a few nobles giggling as they head inside. Kaveh should be among them, but his chest feels tight and his legs won't move no matter how many commands he sends their way. He hunches over his knees, wondering how much trouble he will get in if he pukes on the carriage's floor.

Kaveh hates how pathetic he's being right now, but he hates Al-Haitham witnessing this even more. The duke got out of the carriage first, but he didn't leave Kaveh behind like he usually would. He stayed behind, reaching a hand to help Kaveh out. Even though Kaveh disrespectfully didn't take the hand, Al-Haitham remains at the carriage's doorway. Kaveh would rather Al-Haitham abandon him here. Kaveh doesn't know how long he's going to take, but it is going to be much longer than anyone would have the patience for.

"We don't have to go," Al-Haitham's voice is quiet as he sets his hands on Kaveh's knees. He moves his hands until they are holding onto Kaveh's, keeping the blonde from digging his nails so far into his palms that he draws blood. The gloves would have been enough to keep Kaveh from doing something like that, but Kaveh finds solace in squeezing Al-Haitham's hands as if they were a pillow and not human flesh. Al-Haitham, at least, doesn't say a word about it. He doesn't wince or jerk his hands away, letting Kaveh relieve part of his anxiety in a way that must surely pain him.

"Yes, we do," Kaveh argues. He sounds close to tears, and the prickling in his eyes double-downs on the sentiment. The royal family has summoned everyone. Kaveh cannot avoid this. Al-Haitham can't, either, but he isn't nearly as daunted by the large palace bustling with people as Kaveh is. It's expected, of course. Al-Haitham is Duke Haravatat: intelligent, strong, and highly respected. Kaveh is nothing next to him. He's a punching bag, a laughing stock, and Kaveh hates having all those eyes on him. He isn't even in the ballroom yet, and he can already feel them all boring into his soul like he's the main attraction to mock and scorn.

"We can make an excuse. I can go in alone. We can enter at the very end of the party when everyone is either drunk, asleep, or gone. You do not have to force yourself to do this," Al-Haitham promises. Kaveh stifles a nervous laugh. Al-Haitham always does funny things to his heart. Who would have ever thought Al-Haitham would use the skills he learned at the Akademiya to come up with ways to ease Kaveh's panic and paranoia? Who else would lie to the royal family— effectively commit treason— for Kaveh's sake?

"No... No, I'm doing this," Kaveh swallows thickly. He might get stared at, but no one will mess with him if he sticks to Al-Haitham. As long as something at the party doesn't make Al-Haitham's memories come rushing back, he will stay with Kaveh. The blonde will force him to, though he doubts Al-Haitham will desert him after witnessing Kaveh's mini-anxiety attack in the carriage.

Al-Haitham frowns. He opens his mouth, but he doesn't argue. He only sighs his assent. He puts his foot on the carriage's step, placing a warm kiss against Kaveh's forehead. He stares at Kaveh as he falls back onto the ground. "If that is what you want to do, my love."

The nickname is enough to distract Kaveh. His face flushes, and he is about to argue that he is not Al-Haitham's love when his feet leave the ground. Al-Haitham cradles Kaveh against his chest, using his shoulder to shut the carriage door. Kaveh's arms move around Al-Haitham's neck instinctively, but he kicks his feet to protest the position. He hisses against Al-Haitham's ear, "What are you doing? Put me down!"

"I do not want to. Given your nervousness, I am inclined to assume you are vulnerable to tripping or losing strength in your legs. I would not want you to fall on our way there," Al-Haitham's logic is rather sound, but the expression on his face is far too smug for this to be entirely for Kaveh's benefit and none of Al-Haitham's interests.

"What if someone sees us?" Kaveh asks quietly. He's stopped kicking, however, relaxing as much as he can into Al-Haitham's hold. He doesn't think it's going to hurt too much if Al-Haitham suddenly drops him. This version of Al-Haitham probably never will, but the other one... Kaveh just doesn't know.

"So what if they do? We are a legally married couple. This is tame behavior compared to the other scandals that the nobility perpetuate for their own entertainment. Let them find whatever reverie they can in the duke's care for his husband," Al-Haitham raises an eyebrow at Kaveh. The blonde hides his face in Al-Haitham's shoulder. He didn't want rumors to spread that Al-Haitham and Kaveh were getting closer. First and foremost, he didn't want Azar to hear about this. Secondly, he doesn't want these rumors to continue when Al-Haitham and him are no longer anything to each other.

Logically, Kaveh should push Al-Haitham away and insist on his body's ability to move. Rationally eludes Kaveh, however, because he feels so much safer in Al-Haitham's arms. No one can say a word to him when the duke is physically protecting him. Kaveh is a fool to enjoy this, but he has long since acknowledged the foolish behavior Al-Haitham effortlessly coaxes from Kaveh.

When they reach the palace's main entrance, Kaveh stretches his legs onto the ground. He keeps one arm around Al-Haitham, letting strength return to him slowly. Al-Haitham holds him closely, moving a hand to run through Kaveh's blonde hair. It trails down to his cheek, and Kaveh stands up straight without anyone's assistance. The pit in his stomach gnaws at his resolve, but he doesn't let his fear drive him to flee. He tries to emulate the visage of Lord Haravatat. He thinks he gets somewhere close as he puts his hand through Al-Haitham's inner elbow. Al-Haitham covers Kaveh's hand with his own, and the two of them step into the opulent palace.

The servants are dutiful as they direct the nobility to the ballroom and take their coats. There is not a single pair of eyes that linger on Kaveh and Al-Haitham from the working class, as drama is far above their pay grade. In contrast, the nobility instantly drowns Kaveh with their attention. He has trouble controlling his breathing, and he can't stop his hands from trembling. He attempts to remove his cloak for the awaiting servant. Frustrated tears fill Kaveh's eyes, but his struggles swiftly end when Al-Haitham unties the knot for him. Al-Haitham hands the cloak to the servant. As the man scurries away, Al-Haitham dusts off Kaveh's shoulders with a soft look. He leans forward for another forehead kiss. He pulls away, dropping his hand into Kaveh's hand. "Stay with me tonight, okay?"

Kaveh almost laughs at the irony. How many times did he ask Al-Haitham that same question? The cruel part of Kaveh wants to answer the way Al-Haitham would have before the accident, but he doesn't have enough strength to speak. He squeezes Al-Haitham's hand. The duke's expression turns even more tender. He starts to lead Kaveh through the hallways to the ballroom in the distance. The nobility's eyes continue to burn Kaveh's body. There is an undercurrent of their curious murmurings that make Kaveh want to find the nearest potted plant or powdering room. He should have asked Tighnari for some nausea medication before they left.

A servant waits at the entrance to the ballroom, ready to whisper names and titles to the herald at the top of the stairs. The servant's eyes widen when they notice Kaveh next to Al-Haitham. They do not need to ask who the two individuals are. The herald is less expressive than his companion. He clears his throat with a cough, and with his naturally booming voice, announces the next pairing to enter the ballroom over the music, "Introducing Duke and Lord Haravatat."

Al-Haitham's grip on Kaveh's hand strengthens, keeping Kaveh from fitting them into a more appropriate position. Kaveh should be holding Al-Haitham's arm, not his hand. This is a symbol of mutual love, and Kaveh doesn't want Al-Haitham to regret this. But Al-Haitham doesn't wear any discernible expression as he escorts Kaveh from the top of the stairs to the bottom. The herald continues introducing couples behind them, but Kaveh can feel the predatory eyes on him. He bites the inside of his cheek, holding his breath to distract himself from the pain inside his chest. He is, obviously, replacing one sort of pain with another, but Kaveh likes the illusion of control it gives him.

Despite every good quality he possesses, Al-Haitham is not an approachable person. He is naturally intimidating with his resting face resembling annoyance and boredom while his posture reveals that he is ready to fight physically should any untoward words linger too long in his ears. He glares at anyone who dares approach him, and those who can make it past his glare will find that he isn't a particularly good conversationalist unless the topic broaches some fairly heavy subject matters. Al-Haitham is the sort of man that one only talks to when they have to or when the matter is of great importance.

Kaveh despised this as much as he hated everything else about Al-Haitham, but he can now confidently proclaim that he loves using it as a shield. Tucked into Al-Haitham's side, Kaveh can borrow the strength and meanness in Al-Haitham's gaze. While others would have approached him to belittle him if he were on his own, those cowards remain far, far away when Al-Haitham puts an arm around Kaveh's shoulder as if they were alone and not in observant company. Kaveh hates relying on Al-Haitham like this, but he lost his natural charisma a long time ago.

It feels so far away now, but there was a time when Kaveh was a lively, sociable person. He liked people at one point. He still does, really. Kaveh enjoyed the festivities. He liked interacting with strangers, turning them into friends. He liked dancing, spinning around until he felt drunk without even touching a drop. He liked the bubbly atmosphere as if they were all water in a pot set over a fire. Parties were forever ruined for Kaveh in one fell swoop, but he likes to think that enough good experiences will reawaken what he thought was lost. He doesn't know. He doesn't suspect he'll ever learn.

Al-Haitham turns to Kaveh. The blonde looks up at him, frowning slightly as he waits for Al-Haitham to say something. The gray-haired man is silent for a long moment. He only stares. Kaveh swallows, unsure what he's supposed to feel at the moment. A strange sort of embarrassment rises from his gut to his cheeks, but there is something else in his emotions that he prays Al-Haitham doesn't notice or understand. It would be much better for everyone involved if Al-Haitham would look away so Kaveh could sort himself out, but the duke does no such things. His expression just shifts minutely with a sigh. "So, that is why everyone is staring at you."

Kaveh startles. Shame forms words on his tongue, but Al-Haitham looks away, glaring at the other people in the room instead of looking at Kaveh. "They must realize how beautiful you are."

Kaveh nearly flinches away, but Al-Haitham keeps his arm around Kaveh's shoulder. The blonde flounders, trying to form an intelligent sentence. He shakes his head, putting his hands over his cheeks to feel the heat between his fingers. "You can't just say things like that, Your Grace."

"Why not? I find the truth to be much easier to keep track of than lies are," Al-Haitham shrugs with one shoulder. He continues glancing around the room, his face taking on an expression that almost seems sour. Kaveh would say it is similar to jealousy, but that would be stupid. Al-Haitham is not capable of such irrational emotions— his self-proclaimed fondness for Kaveh aside. "It is becoming a problem, however. I do not like so many people looking at you."

"I assure Your Grace that I dislike it even more, but there is nothing we can do when we are standing together like this," Kaveh responds, gesturing to the arm around his shoulder and the small distance between their bodies. Even in the darkness of the corner of the room, the nobility can tell that the Duke and Lord Haravatat are closer than they have been at past functions.

"Nothing we can do, then," Al-Haitham agrees with a firm nod. Kaveh didn't exactly mean it like that, but he didn't think he could argue with Al-Haitham about this. He genuinely doesn't like arguing with Al-Haitham due to past memories, but he also knows when there are verbal fights he cannot win.

The music changes to a different set of songs. Kaveh watches the other couples line up near the middle of the room. He glances at Al-Haitham from the corner of his eye. Al-Haitham is staring at him already. Kaveh tenses, but Al-Haitham only lifts a hand to Kaveh. "Would you like to dance with me?"

It is a terrible idea. Everyone would definitely look at Kaveh if he were to dance with Al-Haitham. They would get confirmation that something has changed between Al-Haitham and Kaveh. It is, again, the worst idea possible.

But Kaveh has always wanted to dance with Al-Haitham. More than that, Kaveh likes dancing in general. He's reluctant, but he ultimately puts his hand in Al-Haitham's palm. For a moment, Al-Haitham smiles at Kaveh. The smile disappears as Al-Haitham leads him to the center of the room, but that smile alone makes this choice worth it as they get into position. A rare silence hushes the room, but Kaveh focuses only on the partner in front of him and the music all around him. Kaveh takes in a quick breath as he takes the first step of the dance. Al-Haitham mirrors his actions, and they soon begin moving across the room with the same grace as the other dancers despite this being their first time dancing together since their wedding day.

As Kaveh fades into the space between each note, he momentarily forgets about all the eyes on him. He breathes a little easier as he enjoys his time. He doesn't notice until he sees the awe in Al-Haitham's eyes that he's smiling. Kaveh is just as surprised. He cries more often than he smiles, and he decidedly very rarely cries. Still, he likes smiling again, even as it makes his cheeks hurt. Al-Haitham, after a moment, returns his smile with something smaller but no less joyous. No less intimate.

The song comes to an end. Kaveh steps away from his partner to bow. His smile is gone when he stands back up, but the happiness inside his chest continues to warm his spirit. He feels as content as a cat napping in the sunlight, but his positive feelings are doused like water thrown across a flame as he recognizes the person walking towards him and Al-Haitham. The duke grabs Kaveh's hand as he turns around, preparing for whatever force could so quickly and completely shatter Kaveh's happiness.

Azar is wearing his classic blue, complimenting his burnt orange eyes. His gray hair is slicked back beneath a hat that he takes off, setting it against his chest as he greets Al-Haitham and Kaveh with a prominent but fake smile on his face. He gestures to the dance floor with his other hand, a smile pointing towards Kaveh. "I did not know you were so skilled at dancing, but I suppose that everyone must have something they are good at. The goddess would not be so cruel as to make you incompetent at everything."

Al-Haitham tenses, but Kaveh only returns Azar's smile with a fake one of his own. "Yes, we must give our thanks to the goddess. It would be unfortunate if I did not possess even a single skill worthy of the station you graciously gave me."

"It seems I have learned great generosity from the goddess," Azar notes with a half-laugh. Kaveh carefully controls his breathing, and he starts to feel light-headed from how little of it is entering his brain. Azar continues, "Forgive me for interrupting your time together, but I wanted to confirm the conditions of Lady Faruzan and my kin, Layla. I have not heard a word from either of them. While I am certain Lady Faruzan will find her way in the Haravatat household, I am quite worried for Layla. She is a dear family member of mine, after all."

"They are both in good health. I frequently spend time with both of them, so you may trust my word," Kaveh answers, putting a hand over his heart. An odd shape presses against his palm through the fabric. He remembers the glass shard Al-Haitham gave him. It makes him feel better, giving him the strength to look into Azar's eyes.

"I will take your word for it, but please tell Layla I will be waiting for a letter from her. I would like to know how she is faring. You might not have noticed, but she is quite a shy child. She would not say if she were eager to leave," Azar remarks carefully, his smile growing wider and tighter. It unnerves Kaveh, and Al-Haitham is only growing more agitated at his side.

"I will speak to her on your behalf," Kaveh confirms. He grabs onto Al-Haitham's elbow. He starts to pull the man along, bowing respectfully to Duke Azar. "If you will, please excuse us."

Azar nods, putting his hat back on his face. Kaveh looks over his shoulder, meeting Azar's displeased glare. Kaveh quickly looks away. Either by accident or by instinct, Kaveh leans into Al-Haitham's side. He is going to have a proper anxiety attack at this rate, but Al-Haitham is quick to bring them to a balcony devoid of people. He hides Kaveh behind a pillar, and then stands in front of Kaveh to protect him from the cold. The gesture is sweet— romantic, even— and all it does is loosen Kaveh's resolve. He forces a breath in and out of his chest, staring up at Al-Haitham. The man is looking away from Kaveh, towards the glass doors they came through. Kaveh glances that way, too, but he doesn't see anything worth seeing. This must mean Al-Haitham wants to go back inside. Kaveh should let him. It is the only rational and responsible thing to do.

But like a foolish, stupid child, Kaveh grabs onto Al-Haitham's jacket with both hands. The fabric is warm, and his hands are cold. Al-Haitham looks back at him with worried eyes and his lips set in a grim line. Kaveh doesn't cry, but it feels just as vulnerable as if he were when he whispers, "Please don't leave me."

Al-Haitham's eyes flicker across Kaveh's face. They settle somewhere. Then, he closes his eyes. He wraps his arms around Kaveh's shoulders, pulling the blonde close. He completely hides Kaveh between the pillar and his body, but the warmth and darkness are so much more bearable than the cold and blinding party. Kaveh wraps his arms around Al-Haitham's waist beneath the man's overcoat, ignoring whatever backlash may come from this decision in the future. Right now, he lets Al-Haitham's comforting arms around his body and the heated breath tickling his scalp ease him into a place more comfortable than this one.

—

Kaveh is still half-asleep as he tilts his eyes open. It takes longer than it should for him to realize that he's inside the carriage. A few moments after that, he recognizes that he's lying in Al-Haitham's lap, the duke's hand beneath Kaveh's head to protect him from the bumpy roads. Kaveh should jerk away in a panic, but he's too tired for that. He just turns closer to Al-Haitham, settling his cheek against the man's upper arm. Al-Haitham's eyes seem to glow in the dark as he looks away from the window to Kaveh. He's as silent as a mouse in Lesser Lord Kusanali's church as he whispers, "Go back to sleep. We'll be home soon."

Kaveh doesn't remember leaving the party, but he supposes he must have lost consciousness as soon as Al-Haitham gave him enough comfort to combat the emotions that held him up like a puppeteer. Kaveh feels bad about it, but his exhaustion makes that feeling distant. What isn't distant is the strange look in Al-Haitham's eyes. Kaveh reaches a hand up to brush his fingers against Al-Haitham's jaw. "What are you thinking about?"

Al-Haitham hums distractedly. He uses the hand not holding Kaveh's head to cover his eyes, urging the blonde to fall back asleep. As if realizing it won't work, Al-Haitham answers solemnly. "I met someone at the party. She gave me a lot to think about."

"Met someone as in—"

"I understand that it might be difficult for you to comprehend my affection for you, but please do not doubt my personal integrity. Whether I love or hate you— and I assure you, it is love— I am not going to cheat. I signed a contract and went through a ceremony of my own volition, so I will not break such vows so carelessly. For better or for worse, I am yours," Al-Haitham reprimands him. A familiar fear surges through Kaveh, but he eases it away with a tired smile. He likes hearing that Al-Haitham loves him, that Al-Haitham is his and no one else's.

With all that out of the way, Kaveh leans further into Al-Haitham's hold. He falls right to sleep.

—

The situation reminds Kaveh a lot of the expression 'the straw that broke the camel's back.'

Layla is a very anxious individual by her very nature. She expects a lot out of herself, and she tends to hate herself easily for failing to live up to her self-imposed expectations. She is pessimistic about the future, especially her place in it. Additionally, she is not in the healthiest environment. While Faruzan and Kaveh take up most of her time, there are plenty of moments when she is left alone with the servants of Haravatat. They despise Rtawahist— for good reasons, sure, but none relating to Layla directly. She incurs their wrath simply because she carries that blood in her veins, and their wrath is as mighty as that of their master.

Between all of that, it is little surprise that Layla would break down at some point. Kaveh just wishes he wasn't indirectly the cause of it.

After resting well into the day after last night's party, Kaveh finally found the energy to engage with Faruzan and Layla. Unlike other times when Faruzan would be teaching them, Layla was teaching Faruzan more about astronomy. Layla seemed calm as she helped Faruzan, so Kaveh thought it was the perfect opportunity to tell Layla what Azar had said about sending a message. In hindsight, he should have been more tactful. Even without Azar there in the room with them, Kaveh felt immense pain just talking about him. He should have known Layla would be in a similar— if not, the same— boat as him.

As soon as Kaveh stopped speaking, Layla froze where she stood. She stared at the table with nothing in her eyes. Kaveh and Faruzan shared a look. Faruzan reached a hand to touch Layla's shoulder. Layla violently flinched away. Her breath quickened as she looked around the room. Something must have clicked in her vision because she stopped moving again. This time, however, tears were in her eyes and rolling down her cheeks like gushing waterfalls. She looked absolutely miserable as her arms crossed over her chest. "This isn't fair! I didn't do anything! I just liked the stars! I would have pretended to be stupid if he told me to, but no! He has to send me here to die instead of killing me himself. Except now I think he is going to personally kill me because I haven't sent him anything. I'm either going to be killed for being a spy by Haravatat or for being a bad one by Rtwahist. I don't want to die!"

Every other word is punctuated by a hiccup or a shudder, and her sobbing nearly turns her words incomprehensible as she keeps repeating her desire not to die. Faruzan remains frozen where she stands, hand hovering in the air where it would have settled on Layla's shoulder. Kaveh, on the other hand, is quick to reach her side. Layla grabs his shirt, fisting the fabric as she keeps sobbing. Kaveh is immobile for a second.

At first, he doesn't understand Layla's crying. For one thing, it isn't going to save her life. For another, Kaveh doesn't know why someone would want to live so badly they would cry about it. Except, after a second, he does understand. He has people he cares about. He has a room he likes sleeping in. He has paintings left unfinished that he wants to continue. He even has Al-Haitham, and although it might not be for much longer, Kaveh still loves Al-Haitham. He still wants Al-Haitham to love him. He doesn't want Al-Haitham to kill him. He doesn't want anyone to, not anymore.

As if to show his understanding, Kaveh realizes that he's crying, too. The tears are warm and thick as they slide down his cheeks, plopping onto Layla's dark blue hair. She doesn't notice as she buries her face into his shoulder, probably getting snot into his clothes. Kaveh also doesn't notice too much as he wraps his arms around Layla and sobs despondently with her. Either Azar or Al-Haitham is going to kill the both of them for what they are and aren't, so they take solace in each other's misery.

Faruzan sighs tiredly. She moves quickly, grabbing onto the sides of their heads. She pulls them down to cry into her shoulders. She pets both of their hair comfortingly, her voice sure and firm as she speaks, "Cease this useless crying at once. I will not allow harm to befall either of you, no matter if it is Duke Rtawahist or Duke Haravatat who comes after you. If you want to live, live you shall. I swear it will be so, and you must respect your elders by believing in them."

Although she tells them to stop crying, neither of them do for a long time. Thankfully, Faruzan doesn't push them away or scold them further for their actions. She holds them until they decide to leave her embrace. Kaveh feels a lot better after crying, and Layla looks dead on her feet. Kaveh imagines the inverse statement is also true, though. Faruzan, however, does not look at either of them as if they are sniveling children. Her compassion shows on her face— a tender love that makes Kaveh want to cry again because of how much it reminds him of his mother. Faruzan brushes the last of their tears away with her thumbs. She squeezes their shoulders and escorts them to their rooms. As Layla nearly slobbers against her shoulder, Faruzan promises Kaveh once more that she will not let anyone kill him. Cyno, at the door frame, recoils at the statement, and agrees with it immediately. Kaveh thanks them both as he goes inside to rest.

—

Kaveh opens his eyes to a strange presence in his room. His panic is smothered by the familiarity of the stranger. Kaveh raises an eyebrow as Al-Haitham approaches his bedside. Al-Haitham kneels beside the bed, reaching for Kaveh's hand. Kaveh lets him take it, waiting for Al-Haitham to explain why he is entering Kaveh's private chambers at the same time the moonlight creeps in from the windows. Al-Haitham doesn't leave him waiting long, "No matter what I feel, I am not going to kill you."

Kaveh snorts, watching the sound sour Al-Haitham's expression. Kaveh pushes down the rumbling laugh in his chest. "And Layla?"

"I'm not going to kill her, either. I do not care where you two came from. You both deserve to live," Al-Haitham promises, squeezing Kaveh's hand. He seems both sad and fond, reminding Kaveh of all those months ago when Al-Haitham begged for a chance. "You deserve to live. I'm not going to kill the man I love."

It isn't the first time Al-Haitham has said something similar to 'I love you,' if not that phrase in its entirety. It's only that this time, the words seem softer and truer. Maybe it's because of how those words sound that Kaveh pulls Al-Haitham into the bed with him. He burrows his face into Al-Haitham's chest, a new habit that is steadily developing. Al-Haitham is quick to wrap his arms around Kaveh's shoulders, keeping him close as the blonde moves the blanket to surround them both. Regret will greet him in the morning, but for tonight, Kaveh sinks into the warmth. When he wavers on the cusp of sleep, he whispers into the silent room, unsure if Al-Haitham is even awake to hear it. "I love you, too."