Sam smiled, his heart fluttering in excitement at hearing Tally speak. “It’s okay, I understand.”
“It has all been very disorientating and overwhelming,” explained Tally.
“I can imagine,” said Sam. Happy that the young man now felt safe enough with him to talk. He liked the sound of his voice, and his vocabulary made him sound intelligent. He was intrigued to find out more about the young man in his bed.
“You don’t remember me, do you?” asked Tally softly.
Sam blinked in surprise. So he did know Tally. How on earth could he have met this striking person and then completely forgotten them? It didn’t sit right. He felt awful.
“Sorry, I meet a lot of people. Where do I know you from?”
Tally pulled back a little to gaze into his eyes. He gave a soft, wry smile. “Scotland, around the year one hundred and twenty.”
“I beg your pardon?” Sam wondered if he was even more tired than he thought. He was surely hearing things.
Tally took a deep breath, seeming to brace himself for whatever he was about to say. “You were called Caradoc. You were a Celtic warrior of the Caledonii tribe. I was a Pict and a magic weaver. They gave me to you as part of a treaty, because you liked boys, and I was pretty.
“Oh.” replied Sam, far too lost for words or even coherent thoughts. Whilst his mind floundered, Tally continued his story.
“We fell in love. Then the Romans came and ruined everything. There was so much death. So much suffering. I delved deeper into magic, pushing myself to become stronger. I touched the dark but left it alone. But my people heard what I had learned.
They wanted me to unleash it upon the Romans. I refused. It was darkness, it was evil. It was not discerning. It could destroy everything. It would destroy my soul. The risk was too great. But they wouldn’t listen.
They captured you on a battlefield where Picts and Caledonii were fighting the Romans together. They had you on your knees, hands bound. All broken and bloody. They said if I didn’t do it, they would kill you.”
You looked up at me, face so swollen you could hardly speak and you said, “It’s not worth it, Tally. I’m not worth it.”
Tally stopped and took a deep breath, as if he needed courage for whatever he was going to say next.
“And you fought your way free and ran… off the cliff. You killed yourself so they couldn’t use you.”
Tally paused. He moved his hands to cup Sam’s face tenderly. As if he was the most precious thing in the world. His deep blue eyes blazed with intensity.
“You were wrong. So very wrong. You are worth everything.”
Butterflies fluttered in Sam’s stomach. A whole storm of emotions swirling through him. His mind fully drawn into the story, regardless of how crazy it sounded.
“What happened?” he asked breathlessly.
Tally sighed and dropped his hands from Sam’s face.
“I unleashed my pain and rage and destroyed them all.”
Sam let the words sink in. His mind processed the implications, then suddenly he was filled with fury.
“The love of your life sacrifices themselves so you don’t turn to the dark side and you fucking turn to the darkness five seconds later! What the hell is wrong with you? Of all the stupid things! What on earth were you thinking?” he raged.
Tally’s mouth fell open, his blue eyes wider than ever before.
“You remember?” he whispered hopefully.
The look of sheer yearning and longing on Tally’s beautiful face doused Sam’s irrational anger.
“What? I? No?” he stuttered uselessly.
“Then why are you so angry?” asked Tally, clearly hanging on to a tentative hope.
Sam had never felt so guilty in his life. His stupid reaction hadn’t helped Tally’s delusions at all.
