#15 - That Cylak Bastard

I should have known that if Yolend came down to me then that bastard Cylak would as well. He’s there, all in his deeply tanned, black-haired, green-eyed glory.  Chiselled chin.  Muscled like a junior God.  He actually almost looks like the Cylakian ideal of their God, but without the Stag’s antlers. 
 

When they let him in, he stands in the hallway as quietly as the Imaryan, though his gaze is more intense.  A warrior’s gaze.

I stood in the middle of the cell, wanting to touch him, break him, smash his fingers, break his arms, make him service me… I wrapped my arms around myself.  That was the monster.  Limyé had already pointed out to me a number of times that it was the only way I was allowed to touch, as a child and that I was starved for touch of any kind.  I harmed people because it was the only way I could fulfil my craving for contact. I could run my fingers along that cheekbone only if I were being a sadistic bastard.

How funny is that?  I have a desperate skin hunger and the only way I could touch anyone at home was violently.  He said nothing at first, letting me control myself.  I bit my right forearm, struggling with it. If I could touch no one else then I could set my teeth in that callus and make myself feel real and in control.

“Ahrimaz, you don’t need to punish yourself,” Pelahir says, his voice like velvet and acid on my heart.  I must must must hate him.  I don’t have to here.  I don’t have to deny that I’m attracted to men as well as women, here.  I’m safer hating him.

I turn my back on him.  “Pelahir,” I say, addressing the wall.  “How nice of you to visit.”

“I’m sorry we couldn’t just let you go,” says he.

“Why can’t you?”

“Well, when you were coming out of the soporifé the first time you raved about how you’d rebuild a decent Empire and kill us all for having foiled you in the first place.  And Ahrimaz is a good enough warrior that you’d be able to kill more people than we would like if we left you unfettered.”

“I see.”  I knelt down, still facing away from him.  “How did you go from being his enemy on the battlefield to loving him so much?”

“The war was an immoral one, and my Stag Lord insane, even though physically perfect.  He ordered me to slaughter innocents to get at Ahrimaz, and then when I refused, Ahrimaz and I fought together to protect the children.”

“How paladin-like of you both.”

“The guards tell me that you’re as strong as my Ahri.  If it were him in there, he’d be going mad from inactivity.”

“Yes. So you’ve come to see the physical and emotional wreck I’ve become confined in this tiny space?  Come to mock my deterioration?”

He gasped.  “No!”

“Why else would you come?  I am not your beloved paladin, your ass-boy, spreading his cheeks for you to spill your seed in and upon.”

“You’re very angry, embittered, and hurting.”

“So speaks the Master of Truth!” I manage to turn around.  He’s such a beautiful man.  Why should I deny myself looking at him?  In my dungeon I could look at him all I wanted.  Now I was in his and there was no reason to deny myself anything.

He grinned and bowed as if I’d made a joke.  “Yes, yes.  Always speaking the truths right under everyone’s nose, the speaker of the obvious!”

“How is he so loveable?”  I finally managed to get that question out.  “I’m hateful and know it.  I don’t know how to be loved, at all.”

He sat down, cross-legged on the floor opposite me.  “Ahri…”

“Don’t call me that! I’m not HIM!”

“So what should I call you?”

“How about Shit-Head? Or Rapist? Or Murderer?  Oh, I have it!  Call me Raving, Violent Lunatic!”

He stared at me for a moment, then his lips twitched.  “Such a plethora of names to choose from.” He shrugged.  “As you wish.  You see, Shit-Head, my Ahri earns love by being loving.  The Shit-Head Kenaçyen I see before me knows how to earn hatred, by being hateful.” 

As he went on, calling me Shit-Head with a straight face I felt my face crack.  I couldn’t stop the silly, stupid smile twisting my lips into an unaccustomed spread.  “… as far as I know, Shit-Head, the reason that you are so different from my Ahrimaz---“ I fell over, laughing hysterically. Wildly. Idiotically.  He stopped and just watched me, grinning like a fool.

When I finally ran out of air, I managed to push myself back up to kneeling and glared him in the face with my best ‘I’m going to kill you glare’ before letting my dumb grin come back.  “Good choice of name.”