[ Bastien squirms into range to give him one kiss, long and lazily handsy, that means he’s happy.
When he stops, he says into By’s mouth, ]
I want to write.
[ A little bashful, as he settles back onto the pillow. He’s not used to saying I want anything. But By having a dream he’s willing to take risks for—it’s emboldening. And it’s important to him, to have something of his own. ]
I want to help you with this, and I want to write.
[ The moonlight catches his bright-white teeth in their ecstatic grin. His voice is more measured than his expression, cautious, the way one would speak to a friendly but shy dog - ]
I think, [ a little haltingly, ] both? That’s arrogant.
[ He pushes a finger against By’s front teeth. Half to stave off any argument that it is not arrogant; half because he’s thinking, with a fraction of his brain, about that evening a few years ago, when Byerly felt up his teeth and Bastien first (sort of, indirectly) propositioned him.
He revises to, ] Pamphlets. Mostly. If we are out there finding people who are being hurt, maybe I can write about some of it. When it’s the rules that are wrong.
[ Hedging is habit, but really, he’s never felt so encouraged in his life. ]
Maybe I’ll start now. Working on it, I mean. Get my first mediocre effort out of the way so I can move on to a better one faster.
[ He tugs on By’s lower lip in parting and then leaves his teeth and mouth alone. ]
Will you wait until the war is over to tell your spymaster to— [ kiss your ass, is where that sentence was headed, but it occurs to him it might not be that easy. ] Will they let you just leave like that?
[ That doesn’t mean they’ll let anyone leave without issue. But Byerly sounds confident. And if they need to hide a little, that won’t be so bad. They could grow beards. ]
And we are going to save the world. They will have to give you some leeway for that.
[ Bastien huffs a little laugh, and he doesn’t feel bad about it, because he’s sure she’d agree. Proudly. Although— ]
Don’t let her fool you too much. She did sneak off to marry a pirate. I would bet you anything she had stars in her eyes while she did it.
[ He’d like to know more about this spymaster. What’s his name. Where does he live. Is he old. Does Byerly think Bastien could take him in a fistfight, hypothetically. But there are still things it’s better not to pry into, if only to avoid being told it’s a secret. ]
You would think he was...unkind, and acid-tongued, but that he was good at recognizing the skills I do have. There is much to be said in favor of someone who can see that you have some worth.
[ It’s easy to understand. He relates, of course—his bardmaster was demanding, harsh when she needed to be, and judicious with praise. But that meant she really meant it. Or it felt like it meant she really meant it, anyway. It meant he could please her, unlike his parents, and nothing made him prouder than managing to do it.
And that was just him. Hungry for affection and approval, sure, but still with higher self-regard than he suspects Byerly has ever had at any point in his life, much less ten or so years ago, rejected and alone and selling off his violin to survive. ]
I’m glad someone did. I’m glad you had it when you needed it. [ He tugs on the shorter hairs on the back of By’s neck, gently. ] So I won’t track him down and coat his clothes with powdered blood lotus before his most important meeting.
He is one of those people who...Well. Normally, I don't give a shit whether someone likes me or not, let alone whether they think I'm smart. But he's one of those people where - It's involuntary.
Madly. [ He levers one leg to roll By over, pauses to prevent the blankets from tangling or letting the warm air escape, and props up over him. ] Fiercely. Furiously.
[ Bastien cups his jaw with a firmer hold than usual, with decisive, possessive energy that he’s feigned for people who swoon over that sort of thing. Tips his head to kiss him. But it’s only a peck, not a romance novel mouth-claiming deep-dive, before he’s floppy and smiling again. ]
[ Bastien’s smile diminishes to a hint. It doesn’t vanish. A compliment is a compliment. He knows By believes it, but the spectral faces of the people he killed are fresh in his memory. If that’s a good heart—
It’s alright, though. He pretended his way into really being Orlesian, and really being parentless, and really being a printer, so maybe he can pretend his way into this, too, and make it true.
He finishes neatening the second side of Byerly’s mustache in silence, then says, ]
Does he have that effect on everyone? Your spymaster.
He does. He's one of those people who's just silent. And who has the most incredible memory. He'll mention something you said four years ago that you've half-forgotten - It's terrible.
[ Don't think for a moment that Byerly hasn't noticed that dimming of that smile. It's obvious even in the dark. And - rather warming, that Bastien lets him see it. So he strokes Bastien's cheek, and says: ]
If you can see me as a good man despite the evil I've done, I can see the same in you, my duck.
[ His smile widens, as he lists a bit into By’s hand. A sucker for the face touching—maybe that’s an Orlesian thing, with faces so often masked or intricately painted or both, impossible to casually touch without risking a mess that everyone else will see. Or maybe it’s an everyone thing.
Either way: a sucker, but not distracted. ]
It matters why you do a thing. Don’t you think? Defending yourself, or defending someone else—that is not the same as doing it for money. And maybe you do things for other reasons, too. To be able to eat or to feel good at something or to impress someone. No one ever has just one reason for anything.
But you would not have done it if not for thinking it was right. For you that is a crucial piece. If you thought you were only hurting someone and not helping someone, somewhere, you would go hungry instead.
Now, it would be the case, I think. But - You know how I first came into Alexandrie's orbit, don't you?
[ Bastien might, or he might not. By the time they'd crossed paths, Byerly had drifted away from his cousin Rolant, Alexandrie's tormentor. Found better companionship amongst the lowborn and indecent. But he still kept company now and again with those evil fucking men who were his patrons, of sorts, in Royan society. Depended on them to survive. ]
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[ He laughs, not remotely offended by the reference to his phobia. ]
And I'm enchanted by the idea of coming up with our own shorthand. Two kisses mean danger, three mean safety...
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When he stops, he says into By’s mouth, ]
I want to write.
[ A little bashful, as he settles back onto the pillow. He’s not used to saying I want anything. But By having a dream he’s willing to take risks for—it’s emboldening. And it’s important to him, to have something of his own. ]
I want to help you with this, and I want to write.
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Writing pamphlets? Or novels?
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[ He pushes a finger against By’s front teeth. Half to stave off any argument that it is not arrogant; half because he’s thinking, with a fraction of his brain, about that evening a few years ago, when Byerly felt up his teeth and Bastien first (sort of, indirectly) propositioned him.
He revises to, ] Pamphlets. Mostly. If we are out there finding people who are being hurt, maybe I can write about some of it. When it’s the rules that are wrong.
But a novel for fun. For myself.
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Novels are a good way to make a bit of coin on the side, too. Especially serialized ones.
[ His voice is nearly trembling from how delighted he is. ]
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[ Hedging is habit, but really, he’s never felt so encouraged in his life. ]
Maybe I’ll start now. Working on it, I mean. Get my first mediocre effort out of the way so I can move on to a better one faster.
[ He tugs on By’s lower lip in parting and then leaves his teeth and mouth alone. ]
Will you wait until the war is over to tell your spymaster to— [ kiss your ass, is where that sentence was headed, but it occurs to him it might not be that easy. ] Will they let you just leave like that?
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Oh, I should think so. They're not like the Crows or anything of the sort.
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[ That doesn’t mean they’ll let anyone leave without issue. But Byerly sounds confident. And if they need to hide a little, that won’t be so bad. They could grow beards. ]
And we are going to save the world. They will have to give you some leeway for that.
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[ By smiles a little crookedly. ]
I'll probably just tell him I quit. He's positively Yseult-like in his distaste for sentiment.
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Don’t let her fool you too much. She did sneak off to marry a pirate. I would bet you anything she had stars in her eyes while she did it.
[ He’d like to know more about this spymaster. What’s his name. Where does he live. Is he old. Does Byerly think Bastien could take him in a fistfight, hypothetically. But there are still things it’s better not to pry into, if only to avoid being told it’s a secret. ]
Is he hard on you?
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[ His emphatic nuzzle hints at his feelings on the topic of hotness when it comes to Bastien. ]
But...He certainly doesn't think he is.
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What do you think? [ No. ] What would I think?
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You would think he was...unkind, and acid-tongued, but that he was good at recognizing the skills I do have. There is much to be said in favor of someone who can see that you have some worth.
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And that was just him. Hungry for affection and approval, sure, but still with higher self-regard than he suspects Byerly has ever had at any point in his life, much less ten or so years ago, rejected and alone and selling off his violin to survive. ]
I’m glad someone did. I’m glad you had it when you needed it. [ He tugs on the shorter hairs on the back of By’s neck, gently. ] So I won’t track him down and coat his clothes with powdered blood lotus before his most important meeting.
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[ He laughs. Then, a bit reflectively: ]
He is one of those people who...Well. Normally, I don't give a shit whether someone likes me or not, let alone whether they think I'm smart. But he's one of those people where - It's involuntary.
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[ A joke, but laidback and contemplative; it's just another way of saying tell me more. ]
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[ An amused little question. The answer is obviously no; this is just an invitation to engage in a few theatrics, if Bastien is so inclined. ]
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[ Doesn’t mind if he does. ]
Madly. [ He levers one leg to roll By over, pauses to prevent the blankets from tangling or letting the warm air escape, and props up over him. ] Fiercely. Furiously.
[ Bastien cups his jaw with a firmer hold than usual, with decisive, possessive energy that he’s feigned for people who swoon over that sort of thing. Tips his head to kiss him. But it’s only a peck, not a romance novel mouth-claiming deep-dive, before he’s floppy and smiling again. ]
Honestly? A little.
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He loops his arms around Bastien's neck. ]
I have very particular tastes when it comes to falling in love, as it turns out.
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Orlesian Bards who smile a lot?
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People with good hearts.
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It’s alright, though. He pretended his way into really being Orlesian, and really being parentless, and really being a printer, so maybe he can pretend his way into this, too, and make it true.
He finishes neatening the second side of Byerly’s mustache in silence, then says, ]
Does he have that effect on everyone? Your spymaster.
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[ Don't think for a moment that Byerly hasn't noticed that dimming of that smile. It's obvious even in the dark. And - rather warming, that Bastien lets him see it. So he strokes Bastien's cheek, and says: ]
If you can see me as a good man despite the evil I've done, I can see the same in you, my duck.
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[ His smile widens, as he lists a bit into By’s hand. A sucker for the face touching—maybe that’s an Orlesian thing, with faces so often masked or intricately painted or both, impossible to casually touch without risking a mess that everyone else will see. Or maybe it’s an everyone thing.
Either way: a sucker, but not distracted. ]
It matters why you do a thing. Don’t you think? Defending yourself, or defending someone else—that is not the same as doing it for money. And maybe you do things for other reasons, too. To be able to eat or to feel good at something or to impress someone. No one ever has just one reason for anything.
But you would not have done it if not for thinking it was right. For you that is a crucial piece. If you thought you were only hurting someone and not helping someone, somewhere, you would go hungry instead.
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[ By's smile turns a little cynical. ]
Now, it would be the case, I think. But - You know how I first came into Alexandrie's orbit, don't you?
[ Bastien might, or he might not. By the time they'd crossed paths, Byerly had drifted away from his cousin Rolant, Alexandrie's tormentor. Found better companionship amongst the lowborn and indecent. But he still kept company now and again with those evil fucking men who were his patrons, of sorts, in Royan society. Depended on them to survive. ]
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