Deroki did not show up for the next week. Gabe chalked it up to him being busy, he was the king, after all. But still, a small part of him, a foolish, aching part, had expected him to come. Had hoped that he would seek Gabe out again. Like all those times he had done in the infirmary.
Not that he had much time to dwell on it. Mrs. Finn made sure of that. She loaded him with extra work every day as if making up for the time he had spent in the infirmary. Every morning, he was up before dawn, scrubbing, polishing, fetching, his body moving in a mechanical rhythm that left little space for rest. And every night, long after the others had collapsed onto their cots, he was still working, still scrubbing, still making sure that the last of his duties were done before he, too, finally gave in to exhaustion.
But he didn't complain.
Because he was in love.
And love, as it turned out, was a potent drug.
It made the hours slip by like sand through his fingers, made the weight of his exhaustion feel almost bearable. It made the sting of Mrs. Finn's sharp tongue and the ache in his limbs from carrying endless buckets of water feel insignificant. Because whenever he closed his eyes, Deroki was there, his deep voice echoing in his head, his finger caressing his face, his sharp gaze watching him with something Gabe desperately wanted to believe was more than just passing amusement.
Sometimes, when he was bent over scrubbing the marble floors, he imagined a world where they weren't separated by titles, by power, by the sheer impossibility of their circumstances. A world where they would be equals. Madly in love. Where he could freely touch Deroki's face, run his fingers over the lines of his sharp jaw, kiss the smirk off his lips whenever he teased him.
The thoughts were foolish. Dangerous, even.
But they made his work lighter. Made it easier to work while daydreaming about what it could have been.
And by the end of the week, he had made a decision.
The next time he saw Deroki, he would confess.
Consequences be damned.
No one did so much for a commoner if he didn't have some feelings in his heart. The way Deroki touched him, the way he looked at him, as if Gabe were something worth keeping, something worth unraveling, it had to mean something.
And if it didn't? If Deroki only saw him as a passing amusement, a temporary distraction in the endless stretch of his immortal existence? Then Gabe would accept it. Atleast he cared for his enough to teach him about the worldly knowledge.
He would smile, bow his head, and never bring it up again.
But he had to get this weight off his chest. He couldn't let the thoughts of Deroki consume him, fill his mind at every waking hour, until it felt as if he was drowning in them. This obsession, this fixation, it wasn't healthy. He had to purge it before it devoured him whole.
And so, he waited.
Waited for the moment he could finally see Deroki again.
And hoped, just this once, that fate would be kind.
Gabe sat on the edge of his cot, rolling his shoulders to ease the deep ache settled in his muscles. The day had been grueling, scrubbing floors, hauling buckets of water, attending to endless demands, but finally, he was in his room, the only sliver of peace he was afforded. His body ached for sleep, but just as he let out a breath, ready to collapse onto his thin mattress, a sharp knock at his door startled him.
His brows furrowed. No one ever knocked on his door at this hour.
He stood, pushing back his exhaustion, and swung the door open. His breath hitched in surprise when he found Kamika standing before him.
"Kamika?" He blinked at her in confusion. "What are you... "
"The King wants to see you at the entertainment hall," she said, cutting him off.
His frown deepened, but then her words truly registered, and his heart slammed against his ribs.
The King. Deroki.
Wanted to see him.
A thrill shot through him, hot and dizzying, chasing away every trace of exhaustion. His pulse pounded wildly, skipping like raindrops on stone.
"The King... wants to see me?" His voice came out breathless, as if he had just run up a flight of stairs.
Kamika didn't react to his obvious astonishment. Instead, she stepped forward, holding out a tray of clothing, no, not just clothing. Finery. Rich, delicate fabrics in deep sapphire hues, intricate embroidery that shimmered under the candlelight. And beside them, gleaming gold jewelry.
"Put this on," she instructed, her voice level but carrying an undercurrent of something unreadable.
Gabe's fingers twitched as he hesitantly took the tray. The cloth felt like water against his skin, cool and impossibly smooth. His breath caught.
"Why...?" His voice trailed off, uncertainty creeping in.
Kamika's lips curved, but the smile didn't quite reach her eyes. "Why, Gabe? Because you're special, of course."
Something about the way she said it made his stomach twist. There was a tone to it, almost teasing, almost mocking, but his mind was far too overwhelmed to dwell on it.
All he could think about was that Deroki had sent for him.
That the King had chosen clothes for him, fine, beautiful clothes. Was this a date?
The thought sent heat rushing to his cheeks.
"Thank you, Kamika. I'll get ready right away," he said, trying to keep his voice steady.
Kamika inclined her head. "I'll be waiting outside. I was instructed to escort you to the entertainment hall."
He barely registered her words as he shut the door, his hands already shaking as he laid out the garments on his small bed. The silk blue skirt pooled over the sheets like liquid moonlight, its golden embroidery catching the dim glow of his candle. The robe was sheer, airy, meant more for elegance than modesty. And then there was the jewelry, a golden waist chain, delicate shoulder trinkets, anklets with tiny chimes that would sing with every step.
But the piece that took his breath away was the headpiece.
A gold circlet, delicate yet regal, its design reminiscent of a laurel wreath. It was the kind of ornament that crowned nobility, not commoners like him.
His fingers ghosted over it, reverent.
This is real.
His heart thundered. He had bathed earlier, scrubbing away the grime of the day, but suddenly, he felt the need to do it again, to be clean, to be worthy of wearing something so fine. But there was no time.
Taking a steadying breath, he dressed.
The skirt's waistband, embroidered with golden thread, rested just beneath his navel, snug yet comfortable. The robe draped over his shoulders like a whisper of silk, weightless and smooth, leaving his upper body bare save for the layers of golden necklaces he carefully clasped around his neck, some hanging low over his chest, others resting just against his collarbone. The cold metal sent shivers down his spine.
When he adorned himself with the anklets, the soft chime of tiny bells followed his every movement. And as he placed the circlet atop his head, its delicate weight settling against his silver curls, he turned to his small mirror.
His breath caught.
He barely recognized himself.
The flickering candlelight cast a warm glow over his exposed skin, the gold accents glinting with every tiny movement. His reflection looked ethereal, like a vision from an old story, a celestial being draped in the riches of the heavens.
A slow smile spread across his lips.
He looked beautiful.
With newfound confidence, he turned to the door and opened it.
Kamika was standing exactly where he had left her, her expression unreadable. She barely spared him a glance, showing no reaction to his transformation. No words of admiration, no disapproval. Just the same, distant presence.
"I'm ready," Gabe announced, the excitement thrumming beneath his skin.
Kamika forced a small, tight-lipped smile. "Let's go then."
And with that, she turned, leading him into the dimly lit corridors of the palace, his heart pounding with every step.
Tonight, something was about to change.
He could feel it.
Gabe clutched his robe tighter as he followed Kamika through the silent corridors of the maid quarters. The palace was asleep, wrapped in the hush of midnight, but his heart was anything but calm. It pounded wildly, every beat echoing through his chest.
The soft chime of his anklets and jewelry filled the air, an enchanting melody accompanying each step he took. The sleepy guards turned their heads as he passed, their eyes flickering with curiosity, but Gabe barely noticed. His thoughts were consumed by the man waiting for him.
Deroki.
Kamika led him past the moonlit royal garden, where the scent of night-blooming flowers clung to the air, past the still palace pond that reflected the stars like scattered diamonds, and toward the enclave quarters.
When they reached the heavy wooden doors of the entertainment hall, Kamika stopped. She turned to him, her expression unreadable in the dim torchlight.
"He is waiting for you," she announced simply.
Gabe swallowed.
His stomach was a storm, dancing, singing, trembling with nervous energy. His fingers shook as he reached for the door, pressing his palm against the cool wood. Kamika was already walking away, but he barely registered her departure.
This was it.
The doors creaked open, revealing the grand entertainment hall bathed in golden candlelight. At the far end, seated on a raised platform, was Deroki.
The King.
His King.
Deroki was lounged against the plush guest cushions, his dark eyes catching the candlelight as they lifted toward Gabe.
A slow, lazy smile curved his lips, but there was something guarded beneath it, something unreadable.
Gabe nearly forgot how to breathe.
The world shrank until there was only him.
His limbs felt weightless as he moved forward, each step slow, deliberate. The sound of his anklets rang in the vast chamber, a delicate harmony accompanying the rapid drum of his heart.
"Deroki," Gabe whispered as he reached him.
At the sound of his name, Deroki's expression flickered, just for a moment. A flash of surprise. A brief hesitation.
"My sweet, brave mortal," he greeted, his voice smooth as silk, his smile remaining, though it didn't quite reach his eyes.
Gabe's knees bent, and he knelt before him, his head tilting up, his hands resting on his thighs to keep himself steady.
"You wanted to see me?" he asked, his voice breathless.
Deroki hummed in approval, his gaze trailing over him. "Yes, of course. You look... beautiful."
A flush warmed Gabe's cheeks. "Thank you," he murmured, eyes shining.
His heart thundered, pressing against his ribs, demanding release. He couldn't hold it back any longer.
"I missed you."
Deroki's head tilted slightly, his lips quirking in intrigue. "Oh?"
"I've been thinking about you a lot," Gabe admitted, his voice softer now, reverent.
A muscle in Deroki's jaw twitched, but his hands were gentle as they lifted to Gabe's face, cradling his cheek. His thumb brushed along his skin, featherlight.
"Is that so?" he asked, his voice quieter, unreadable. "And why is that, my dear mortal? What have I done to deserve such devotion?"
Gabe's lashes fluttered as he leaned into the touch, savoring the warmth.
"What haven't you done?" he whispered, his voice trembling with emotion. "You saw me when no one else did. You made me see the world differently, its beauty, its possibilities. You taught me things I never would have known. You..., "
His breath hitched, and for the first time, doubt clawed at his heart.
Did he have the right to say this?
To feel this?
His fingers curled against his lap.
"Maybe I'm not worthy," he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. "Maybe I don't deserve to say this, but... I have to."
He lifted his eyes, meeting Deroki's gaze with raw, unguarded vulnerability.
"I think... I think I love you."
The words spilled out, fragile and precious, trembling in the air between them. His chest rose and fell with uneven breaths, his pulse roaring in his ears.
Deroki removed his hand from Gabe's face. And then, silence.
The silence was deafening.
Gabe's heart pounded so hard it nearly drowned out his own thoughts. He kept his gaze locked on Deroki, searching his face for a reaction, anything. Fear. Anger. Disgust. But what he saw was worse than anything he could have imagined.
Deroki was biting his lip. His shoulders trembled. And then,
Laughter.
A deep, uninhibited laugh burst from his lips, echoing in the vast, empty hall. He pressed a hand against his mouth, as if to stifle it, but it was no use.
"Fuck," Deroki gasped between chuckles. "I'm sorry, " he wheezed, shaking his head, "I just, Oh, gods, this is priceless."
Gabe felt the floor beneath him tilt. His breath hitched painfully in his throat.
"What?" His voice came out hoarse, strangled.
"Why do you think I called you here?" Deroki asked, wiping away a tear of mirth from his eye, still chuckling.
Gabe's heart clenched. "You... you wanted to see me." His voice was quiet, but desperate, as though saying it out loud would make it true. "We haven't met in seven days. Since... since you helped me..."
The words barely left his lips before the heavy doors swung open with a resounding creak.
Gabe turned sharply, and his stomach twisted.
Three Vaisas glided into the hall, two women, their delicate silken robes flowing behind them, and an Omega, his beauty almost ethereal. Behind them, a Guqin player carried his instrument, setting up near the platform.
"They are ready for your service, Your Majesty," Kamika announced as she entered behind them, her tone cool, indifferent.
Gabe blinked. His pulse pounded erratically. He couldn't understand. "What...?"
Deroki's lips curled, amusement dancing in his gaze. "I told Kamika I was growing bored of the same dancers in the enclave," he explained casually. "She mentioned you were the best dancer during your monastery days but since you were never initiated, you never danced for anyone. So," he leaned forward, resting his chin on his knuckles, "I thought, what better opportunity than tonight for your first performance?"
The breath left Gabe's lungs.
His chest caved in as if someone had reached inside and crushed his heart with their bare hands.
Gabe swallowed hard, willing his voice not to break, "You called me here to dance?"
Deroki smirked. "I think you mistook my invitation for something else." He leaned back, his sharp gaze locked onto Gabe's shattered expression, as if studying it. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to mislead you." His voice was almost playful, almost kind, but there was a sharp edge beneath it. "We could just listen to music and eat if you'd like, while your... friends," he gestured to the Vaisas, "entertain me."
One of the women gracefully settled onto the cushions beside Deroki, and before Gabe could fully process what was happening, Deroki pulled her onto his lap.
His hands roamed her waist as he tilted her face toward his, his lips tangled with hers. But his eyes, those cruel, merciless eyes, stayed on Gabe.
A sharp, searing pain shot through Gabe's chest. His nails dug into his palms, his breath shallow.
He bit the inside of his lip, so hard he tasted blood.
"I asked them to serve the best spreads tonight," Deroki said breaking from his kiss, utterly unfazed by Gabe's crumbling world. "The dishes you liked the most at the infirmary. I know the food in the maid quarters is terrible, think of this as a break from that crap. Indulge, love."
Love.
The word felt like a dagger, twisted into his ribs.
Gabe's vision blurred. He was drowning, suffocating in humiliation, in heartbreak.
How foolish had he been?
To think Deroki cared for him.
To believe, even for a second, that he was special.
He wasn't a lover. He wasn't even a person in Deroki's eyes.
Just a toy. A plaything. A whore to be entertained and discarded.
His hands trembled, but he forced them to still. He forced his expression to remain impassive. If Deroki wanted a performance, then fine. He would give him one.
"I would rather perform, Your Majesty," he managed to say, his voice strained but steady.
Deroki smirked. "Great. Start the music."
The first note struck, haunting and slow, vibrating through the walls, reminding him of the day he had taken the dagger for Deroki.
Gabe rose to his feet, blinking away the burning in his eyes. His body moved instinctively, falling into the fluid, sensual movements his teachers had drilled into him at the monastery. Every turn, every measured step, felt like a battle to keep himself from collapsing.
His vision blurred with unshed tears.
He had danced before, danced to celebrate, danced to express joy.
But tonight, he danced for his broken heart.
He spun, the fabric of his robes flowing around him like liquid moonlight, the chimes on his anklets singing his sorrow.
Through the haze of candlelight, his gaze flickered to the gilded mirror on the far wall.
For a moment, he saw what he had once believed.
He had thought he looked like an angel tonight. Beautiful. Ethereal. Wanted.
But staring at his reflection now, he saw the truth.
He didn't look like an angel.
He looked like an expensive whore.
***
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