#moth the rogue | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

thayansaudade · 1 year ago

Text

The Truth

Word count: 2971 Rating: M

Being the son of the mad hermit had many downsides, and few perks. Some nights Morgan was ignored, left free to do what he wished. Other nights, and more frequently, he was saddled with a burden or two. Collect a satchel of grave soil, track down a soul and put it in the soul jar. Some tasks were easier than others.

The worst jobs were when Morgan was asked to assist his father in live dissection and experimentation. None of his 'patients' looked quite like Morgan but the sharp tip to the ears… The eyes so dark they could hold stars… those were the worst.

Those were the tasks he had most trouble completing and ultimately failed each time. And each time incurred the wrath of his father. Who reminded him he was no son. Not a son, but a slave. A slave who could be on that very table and dissected if that was what Morgan really wanted.

The mad hermit would go as far as telling him that changeling blood was a prized commodity.

Each time. Every time. Morgan would run. He knew his father would never truly hurt him. Least of all when he was miles down the roads already. Swallowed up by the darkness and changed into another.

Most times he would run to a graveyard and hide amongst the tombstones. Or drink his problems away at a bar until he was silly and his father came to pick him up.

But tonight. Tonight felt different.

Everything had been different since he kissed Argos under the darkness of his looming home. He had always craved the other boy’s attention, but now it felt more real. More solid and tangible.

And before he knew it, his feet had taken him to the library window. The window he had scaled countless times to see his friend. Never from the front door. Always from the window from where they first met.

He climbed the solid rock wall, and slipped once or twice on slick stones.

The rain followed him in like a shroud.

Thunder covered his steps, already silent on the wooden floor.

He stared down at the puddle he was forming, and frowned. Argos wouldn’t be happy. The servants wouldn’t be happy either. Though their opinions mattered far less. But Morgan tried his best regardless to wring water out of his sodden clothes out the window, and not drip so heavily on the floor.

The room was enchanted with mage light. Safe and no risk of burning the home down like regular torches would. Though in all of Morgan's life, he had not seen a home lit by torch nor candle. Maybe a slave's quarters? But none of the citizens of Thay ever wanted for a better life.

No citizen but him. The secret son of Sephtis. The secret slave of the mad hermit.

The sound of paper, soft and whispering, caught his attention and stirred him from his thoughts. Quietly, on the tips of his toes he tried sneaking around shelves and walls of books. The library big enough to dwarf his own room.

The scratch of a pen came next. And then Morgan knew who was there. Studying in the dark hours of the day when all others but him and his father would be resting for the next day.

The boy he had come to see. The one who captured his heart like a thief.

Argos.

But he didn't want to interrupt him. Didn't want to startle him into spilling his ink onto his book and ruining the expensive paper he used to transcribe. Morgan bit his lip as he watched the back of his friend, illuminated by a small mage light caught in a glass like an oil lamp. He was… beautiful. Even from behind and hunched like he was. His hair glowed like a halo from this angle.

And Morgan sighed a little too loud. Still a whisper. At least he thought so. But with the soft sound, Argos looked up from his work and looked out the window. There was nothing but darkness and rain out there.

There, where Morgan had been not a moment ago. And considered going back out the way he came. It was stupid really. To come here unannounced. And through the window no less. Although he had done the very same countless times before now.

But now was different.

Argos turned his head and looked at his friend with a puzzled expression that twisted quickly into surprise, them worry. "You look like a drown rat." He said simply though there was nothing simple in his eyes. Gold even in the dark.

Morgan smiled slow and shrugged. "Little wet out there."

Argos was on his feet and storming close, close, closer. Until he was a breath away from the sodden Morgan. "You're shivering." He whispered. Hands reached up and stroked up and down his arms, radiating a heat and warmth from them. Argos was right, Morgan thought. He was shivering.

"Come on. Come with me." His warm hand slid down Morgan's arm one more time and rested in his hand. Cold and wet against dry and warm. Warmth touched his forehead too. In the form of soft lips to his cold skin.

Warmth bloomed inside his chest. And he stared down at their hands, connected, intertwined as Argos lead him out of the library. Like always, the two of them were connected.

"Sorry I interrupted you." Morgan mumbled, though he was loud enough for Argos to hear.

"It's nothing I can't get back to later."

"Still."

"You matter more than my studies okay?"

"Okay."

Though Morgan wasn't sure if he believed it from the night he had. Haunting words chasing after him, nipping at his heels like the shadow he couldn't get rid of. He squeezed Argos' hand, and felt a return tightness grip him back.

Maybe… maybe. As long as he was with him. Here. In the home that smelled like cinnamon and old paper. As long as he was here, and Argos was holding his hand, maybe he could believe it. That he mattered. That his feet were right to take him here instead of any of the other places he haunted on such nights.

"Sorry…" He said again when they stopped. He hadn't stopped staring at their clasped hands. The only source of warmth he felt.

"Don't be. Now strip."

"What?" The order had him spluttering. He looked up finally and noticed they were in Argos' room. Warm and dimly lit. A massive bed making the center piece of the room.

Morgan blushed. Colour soaking into his pale skin. It wouldn't have been the first time he had been naked around Argos. It wouldn't have been the first time he was naked in this room.

But things were different now.

Argos frowned and gently pulled and peeled at Morgan's clothes. Muttering to himself, "where did you even come from in such a hurry? Didn't even grab a cloak to shield you…"

"Can't you just magic me dry?"

"I don't have that magic. And you're soaked to the bone. Help me out here, Morgan."

He bit his lip and shifted. Lifting his arms when prompted. Lifting his legs when told to do so. Layer by layer he was stripped of his wet things until he was bare. Bare and still shivering as a droplet of water fell from his long hair and down his back.

Thay was not a chilly place. On the contrary. It was warm and full of light and heat and fresh clean air. But on rainy nights like this one, even the hardest of flames would have trouble not shaking anc shying away from the cold.

And Morgan stood there. Naked and cold. Waiting for the next demands from his friend.

Morgan tracked Argos as he busied himself around the room. Looking for something in his dresser. Watched as he paused and straightened himself out, and turned towards the bed, and took one of the blankets off. Folded it in his arms, and returned to his shivering friend, arms out and open, as if expecting a hug. Then wrapping the smaller of the two up in the thick fabric.

It was warm. It smelled of cinnamon and ink on paper. It smelled like Argos, and Morgan couldn’t help but to close his eyes briefly and inhale the smell. Holding the blanket tight to his body.

“There.” Argos said with a smile. Kissing his forehead once more. His hands once more stroking over his friend’s arms. “Now get into the bed where it’s warm and dry. Please. I’ll be right there and we can talk, okay?” But Morgan didn’t want to talk and leaned up on his toes, and pressed a delicate kiss against Argos’ lips. Soft skin that could give way to sharp teeth. When did Argos get so tall? When had they changed so much from each other?

Argos wrapped his arms around the small of Morgan’s back and dragged him into an embrace. He opened his mouth, and let his tongue slide out, pushing at Morgan’s lips until they opened for him. And then they were kissing. Slowly. Languidly. Knowing that this was where each other belonged. In each other’s arms. Their bodies a tangle of limbs where neither of them stopped nor started.

One being.

Argos broke first. Pulling away, crimson on his face. “Bed.” He demanded, but his expression and voice soft. Morgan smiled and scurried to the large bed. It wasn’t the first time they had slept together here. Just two boys who couldn’t let go of each other’s hands. Inseparable.

Morgan dove under the covers and nestled deep into the folds of the blankets. He wondered very much if he was even able to be seen from outside. If he left a shape in the once perfect lines of the duvet. Or if he closed his eyes, he’d sink into the too soft mattress and become one with it.

He listened closely to the sounds of feet hitting the ground, and the sounds of shuffling here and there. Then he heard a small sound. A whisper, before a crackle of fire and the smell of smoke. And a dip in the bed beside him suggested that Argos had finally joined him.

“Did you use magic to start a fire?” Morgan asked as the blankets were lifted and Argos slid inside. Nothing covering his body. The two of them naked, separated only by a few degrees of space.

“To warm the room up more.” He explained as he scooted closer. Held up an arm for Morgan to come over if he wished. And he did. Soon they were in each other’s arms. Their legs tangled. Not a blade could separate them like this. Nothing in the world could. “Tell me what happened?” “...Let’s just stay like this.” Morgan said after a beat of silence.

“Okay.” Argos kissed his shoulder. Kissed his cheek. Kissed his lips.

Together they were whole. Together they were safe.

Together not even the memories of his father threatening him could reach him.

He closed his eyes, and let himself drown in Argos. His smell. His touch. The soft sounds of his heart beat, beat, beating so close. So calm it was hypnotic.

The bed shifted again, and Argos’ weight was on top of him. Morgan on his back before he realized. Straddling his hips, and Morgan responded in kind, rolling up to meet him. They gasped at the friction. The growing hardness between them.

Their mouths were on each other, hands mapping their bodies as if their lives depended on it. Morgan gasped and his head rolled back at the graze of teeth against his neck. He felt a twitch at his hips - himself or Argos, he couldn’t tell, and he couldn’t care. Not with Argos’ mouth on his neck, sucking and nipping right on the cusp of too much and not enough.

This was new. This was different.

He made a sound that he didn’t know was possible. A whimper? A moan? That caused Argos to stop and look up, and begin kissing him again. As if trying to suck the noise out of his mouth and into his body. Morgan wrapped his arms around Argos’ neck to keep him in place and not run again. He needed this. Needed to be kissed. Needed to be loved so thoroughly by the one he held.

Argos whispered his name, and something else. Something that Morgan’s brain couldn’t translate. A spell most likely. But he couldn’t care. Not with Argos’ hand exploring lower and lower. Down past his belly and between his legs. It tickled in a way that made him want to jump out of his skin, but instead he could only rock his hips upward into Argos’ awaiting hand.

“Gods.” He heard himself growl in a voice full of sharp teeth. He wrapped his leg over Argos’ hips, and held him as close as he possibly could. Ground their lengths together in a way that made them both shake.

He wasn't a stranger to pleasure. He knew what buttons to press to bring himself over the edge. But with Argos this was all new. All strange. But all good. Perfect. Everything felt right. Felt like this was the only real truth to the world. Morgan was made for Argos. Argos was made for Morgan. They were born to meet and to fall in love. For this moment.

And then.

And then…

"Ow!" Argos reeled back. The tang of blood, heavy and thick in Morgan's mouth. He hadn't felt the change come on. But he had heard it in his voice and done nothing.

Morgan froze as Argos watched him. "You bit me." He said, holding a hand in front of his mouth. "Didn't expect that…"

Morgan started to breathe heavier. The world slowly closing in. Argos didn't look at him in disgust so it couldn't have been a full change but…

"This was a bad idea." Morgan mumbled around a mouth full of teeth, eyes lowered.

"Morgan? Did I do something wrong?"

"No- I- I should go. I'm sorry." What parts of him had changed? How much time did he have before he reverted back to that thing he kept hidden? He squirmed, pushing Argos off of him trying to get out of the bed.

"Morgan!" Argos allowed him up but grabbed his arm. Held him in place. Held him close. He wouldn't escape the bed. "Stay. I'm sorry."

Morgan stared at the floor. Counted the tiles and tracked lines in the grouting. Argos sat up with him and gently turned Morgan's head to look at him. "Morgan. Love. Talk to me."

Argos frowned as he tucked a lock of stray hair back behind Morgan’s ear. Morgan’s heart fell when Argos sucked in a deep breath. “You… You aren’t human.”

Pointed ears. His hair was still dark. Still long. But his ears had changed shape. His eyes, he hoped, had stayed dark but not so deep that stars could be held inside. So he closed them. Afraid to see what was written on his friend’s face.

“You aren’t human…” Argos repeated. But there was no fury in his tone. Like he had been tricked. No betrayal. Instead he cupped Morgan’s cheek. His voice soft. “I understand.”

In Thay it was almost illegal to be not human. They were here and there. Elves. Dwarves. The occasional tiefling. But they were treated less than. They were no better than slaves. They were slaves. No better than the undead that they would all eventually become. All except the humans.

“Morgan. I understand. Look at me. Please?” Morgan nuzzled his face into that hand. Afraid. So afraid. As if this would be the last time he’d be able to touch Argos in this way. He wanted to will this night away.

“I’m sorry I lied.” After all these years. He lied. He was still lying. To let his friend think he was an elf instead of a changeling. He was a terrible person…

“No. No don’t be sorry.” Argos leaned in and kissed his forehead. Kissed his way to his lips. Ever so gently. “If it wasn’t for this - this lie, then we wouldn’t have been able to meet like this in the first place.”

A wet heat burned at Morgan’s eyes before sliding down his face.

“I won’t tell anyone. No one will know. No one but us. And your father, I suppose.”

His father. The reason why he was here in the first place. He opened his eyes. Vision blurred by tears. Argos existed in a dreamy haze. That was right. He was dreaming and all of this was a nightmare brought on by his father's verbal lashings.

"Stay here. Stay with me. Please?" Argos pleaded in earnest. "It's still storming out there. You barely just got dry. Please, Morgan. I promise. I promise you're safe here."

Morgan couldn't deny he wanted to stay. To be here with Argos. If only he could have controlled himself better then this would have gone so differently. They would have…

But things were different now.

He nodded slowly before falling against Argos' bare chest. Crumpling into a small heap in his arms. Argos gently rocked him back and forth, like soothing a young child from a nightmare. His cheek resting on Morgan's dark locks.

"I have you. You're safe. " He kept repeating softly. Gently. Until the tears and the shaking stopped. He tucked them both back into bed. Their limbs a tangle of knots once more.

There was touching. Stroking. The soft graze of lips. But no hunger remained. No fire need for something. Their bodies stirred quietly to life, but it was easily ignored in lieu of comfort and acceptance.

And for once, Morgan was at peace.

#writing #moth the rogue #argos the red wizard

5 notes · View notes