Henri
We waited for the Thrones to make their second appearance. You’d been pinning your hopes on some divine intervention, but each day they delayed, your faith grew a little shakier. Meanwhile, the warborn were growing in facility and power. When not wrapped up in Tribal Council meetings or plotting war strategy, you went for long walks, troubled over the fate of our tribes, and I worried the revolution was taking its toll on you.
But whenever I asked after your condition, you brushed me off or made light of the situation, and I felt you growing more distant each day. Perhaps it was my own guilt over the secret I was keeping.
I was having a glass of wine with Xavier one evening while you soaked in the bath—my worry over your wellness being the topic of our conversation—when Xavier said to me, “perhaps speaking with Vincent directly might ease both of your burdens.”
No doubt you’d sought your father’s counsel after our trip to the under realms, and likely again after Lena’s beheading. Had we been using Xavier as the go-between in our relationship? How much like your former life when Xavier served as the conduit for our passions.
“Open and honest communication is the key to any healthy relationship,” Xavier said.
“There is something I’m keeping from him,” I admitted.
“And he knows it?”
“He suspects, but I’ve been careful to conceal the nature of it.”
“And why is that?”
“I fear that if I reveal it, he won’t allow me to serve him.”
“Serve him? In what way?”
“Protect him.”
“But don’t you also serve him in other ways?”
Was it different for mortal men and the people they cherished? Perhaps it was exactly the same. “He cannot view me as weak,” I said to Xavier. “I don’t want him to… worry over my condition.”
“Are we talking physical strength or mental fortitude?” He asked.
There was little sense in being surreptitious with Xavier, and truth be told, I needed to ease this burden. “Mortality.”
Xavier considered it. “Let me ask you this, Henri. Let’s say both of you were mortal men, and you contracted a disease. Would you tell him of your illness or suffer alone, slowly getting sicker until you perished without warning?”
“I’d tell him.”
“Would you?”
“Yes, of course.”
“And would you have wanted Orlando to keep such a secret from you?”
“No, but he wouldn’t need to.”
“Why not?”
“Because I’ve always been…”
Xavier looked at me pointedly. “The strong one?”
“Yes.”
“Didn’t you once tell Vincent there were many ways to be strong?”
“Yes, but there is only one way that I am strong.” Physical domination, brute strength, fighting abilities, compulsion… those were my advantages, and who was I without them?
“You’re wrong about that. You are more than your weapons and your killer instinct. Vincent doesn’t need an assassin or a warrior right now, he needs a partner. Someone he can trust. Someone he can confide in.”
