6. Dream Treading (II)

Sachie and Birger did indeed find some rabbits. They prepared them by the fire, discussing the best steel for knives while Avery lounged on a blanket, his nose tucked into a book of Galmian illusion spells.

He pilfered a few glances at Birger, watching as the knight skinned and gutted their dinner. He moved efficiently, casually talking while his hands worked. Sachie was just as practiced and it was refreshing to see a woman so unbothered by blood and innards.

Avery returned his attention to the open pages of his book, not reading. He decided to make his move with Birger…he just…wasn’t sure how to get him alone, and more importantly, he wasn’t even sure how to seduce him. The knight was impenetrable when it came to intimacy. Sure, there was that time in the hot springs; he didn’t seem adverse to nudity or touching, and then there were other moments: a lingering look while Avery ate a ripe fruit, or a coldness when Avery showed more skin than usual… Birger was a sexual enigma, and Avery couldn’t parse what exactly would whet his appetite. In truth, he wasn’t entirely keen on having sex with Birger out in the open—rolling about the dirt, twigs in their hair, trying to keep quiet while they… Avery lost himself to the fantasy, mouth curling into a feline smile, blood rushing to his loins.

“Av—”

Avery chuckled to himself.

“Avery!” Something was thrown at his head. It bounced off of his skull and landed in his lap. He looked down at it…a rabbit’s foot. He bolted up with a strangled cry.

Sachie laughed and Birger said, “Get the fire going, you mooch.”

***

The meadow at night was vast and dark, frightening if not for the sky; a black blanket of deep watercolors, pinpricked with thousands of twinkling stars above them. The wind carried the cool air from the snowy caps, which settled as dew into the floral basin. An occasional breeze disturbed the tall grass around them, but the chill wasn’t unbearable. The three sat huddled around their fire, bellies full, eyelids heavy, minds tired.

“I’m bushed,” Sachie said, and she stood, stretched, and walked over to her crude lean-to some paces away, where she dropped and rolled, laying on her side with her back to them. She’d been keeping her distance ever since the hat incident, which in turn had offended Avery, though he knew a shunning was inevitable, such was his path. A part of him wanted to defend his views, but a more reasonable part of him wanted to leave her alone. He hugged his thighs to his chest and rested his chin on his knees.

“You can sleep with me,” Birger offered. “If you’re feeling lonely.”

“What makes you think I’m lonely?”

Birger shrugged. “Then don’t sleep with me.”

Avery frowned. “What makes you think I’d want to sleep with you?”

The knight stared at him.

“W-well?” asked Avery, uncomfortable. He couldn’t tell if he upset Birger with his question…but there was something studious about his gaze. “Stop that,” he said, unable to take his eyes any longer.

Birger scoffed and stood. “Goodnight, Avery.”

“No, wait—I—” Avery looked up at him, hand reaching out.

And Birger looked down at him with eyes full of fatigue, mouth curling with a smidge of benevolence.

Avery sighed. And what should he say now? Yeah I’m down to sleep but I rather have you rearrange my guts. He bit his tongue. There would be no fucking tonight. Avery lacked the courage anyhow. Just because Birger tucked a flower into his hair didn’t mean he wanted to tuck something else into him. He pouted.

“Sachie will come around,” Birger whispered, incorrectly reading his turmoil.

“What? Oh…that. Yeah, maybe.”

“Final offer.” Birger held out his hand. “Let’s get some sleep. You can keep me warm.”

Avery took his hand and the knight hoisted him up with ease, and he hated how that made his chest flutter, his blood rush. “Keep you warm…” he repeated, pressing his chest to Birger’s, though Avery had to stand on his tiptoes, hands clutching his shoulders for stability.

The knight appeared taken aback by the sudden closeness and Avery nearly ripped himself away, but he pressed harder and gripped Birger’s cowl, lips parting, eyes locked on Birger’s mouth. How much more do I have to do you dolt, kiss me damn you! KISS ME.

“Avery…”

Avery opened his eyes. When had he closed them? His neck felt hot as he swallowed. He refused to look Birger in the eye, so he stared at his chest. “What?”

“If I kiss you I won’t be able to stop.”

“Dramatic, but that…doesn’t sound so bad…”

“Oh, but it is.” He wrapped his arms around Avery and pulled his hips closer, pressing them to his.

Avery inhaled sharply, eyes wide. Birger was hard. “Oh, um… I’m not adverse to this,” said Avery, grinding a little, skin tingling. “Medina’s tits, you’re a grower…”

Birger chuckled and pulled away, but he held Avery’s hand, tugging him over to his own lean-to. “Sleep with me.”

“I can be quiet.”

“I’m not sure I can.”

Avery bit back a moan at that. “This is unexpected.”

“What is?” Birger whispered as he bent and flicked out his bedroll.

“This.” Avery gestured to the crude bed. “That.” He gestured to Birger’s crotch.

“Mm.” The knight combed back his hair with his hand and then flopped down and tugged off his boots. “You’re not as perceptive as I thought. Or perhaps you're more in your head than I presumed.”

Avery frowned, hands on his hips. “Careful there.”

But Birger granted him a come hither with his finger and Avery was more than willing to oblige, sitting down and kicking off his boots and motioning for the rest of his clothes.

“Avery…”

“What? I don’t want to sleep with all of this on.”

But Birger’s jaw clenched and Avery gave up, lying down. “Can we at least make out? Some over-the-clothes heavy petting?” He slid his fingers down the knight’s bicep and forearm, holding back a whimper of anticipation. “Please.”

And Birger stared at nothing, looking as if he was full of regret.

“Fine, fine. Come here. I’ll keep you warm,” Avery purred, holding his arms out, and Birger tilted his head, eyes narrowing, but he relented and sank onto him, allowing the mage to hold him close. He was out before Avery could even attempt to seduce him.

~

“Ew–gag,” Sachie interrupted.

“Oh,” said Aalap, grinning at Birger then Avery. “Romance.”

The two men stammered out a simultaneous no and then looked at one another, hurt.

Sachie rolled her eyes. “Why are you bringing this up?”

“Well…” Avery said, twisting his various rings around. “I uh…”

Birger looked at him with a mixture of concern and curiosity.

Sachie motioned for him to spit it out.

“Ugh, just listen!”

~

This was new. Sleeping alone with Birger. The arrangements usually went as follows: Sachie tucked between Birger and Avery, Avery and Sachie, occasionally Sachie and Birger, sometimes everyone got their own room—if Avery felt generous. The sleeping arrangements were never discussed either, it was just a natural thing. No snuggling, no whispers, it was never an event, it was just sleep, a necessity. Most of the time the three were too tired to figure it out, sometimes they needed to huddle up for warmth, and out in the open they had their own lean-tos and bedrolls and if the weather was nice enough they’d sleep scattered about, close but apart.

Though Birger had drifted to sleep in Avery’s arms he soon rolled away, tossing and turning until he finally settled, half on his back and shoulder, arm under his side, facing Avery. It looked uncomfortable, but Birger’s face was serene. Avery laid on his side beside him with a good twelve inches between them, because any closer would be unbearable. He watched the knight’s face in the dim moonlight. What would he do if Avery just rolled on top and straddled him? How would he react? Would he open his eyes, pissed but compelled, and fuck Avery right there—hands rough, taking all of his aggression out on him? Or would he be shy but willing, gentle hands pulling him in for a taste…

Avery chewed on his bottom lip and squeezed his eyes shut. Goddess, he was horny! This was a disaster—cataclysmic and painfully stupid. He rolled onto his back and stared up at the stars, willing his mind and body to behave. He had succeeded in erecting a wall between them, and yet Birger had managed to topple it, easily and unknowingly. He was too sweet, too multifaceted. And now… All that nonsense about not being able to stop if they kissed? What was that? Where did that come from? Once Avery thought he had a hold on the man he’d show him a different side—it was unending! Maddening. Delightful.

The mage groaned and scooted closer and draped a leg over the knight. Birger was dead asleep though, his breathing already measured. Avery laid his palm between Birger’s pecs and then felt it. He scowled and plunged his hand under the neck of Birger’s tunic, taking care not to wake him. He pulled the necklace out and examined it as well as he could in the dark. It took every ounce of sanity to not yank the chain off of him and toss it into the dying fire.

The necklace had become Avery’s sole adversary. A fixation. The source of all his insecurities and worries. Its black gem was like a well-trained eye, scrutinizing Avery and marking him as not good enough. Give up, don’t bother.

Well, what did this trinket know?

But Birger wore it, hidden by his heart, how grossly romantic. Avery pursed his lips, envious. What memories tarnished its silver? He froze. What memories indeed.

The mage rolled onto his back once more and closed his eyes. He could dream tread…unethical as it was in this given scenario, it would alleviate his anxieties. He could see who the necklace belonged to…see how he compared. And if this past lover was something remarkable, Avery could give up, subsequently saving him and Birger any unnecessary explorations of their feelings. So, in a way, the dream treading would be an act of compassion and the trespassing couldn’t be held against him. Surely.

He was convinced. This was the right thing to do. But dream treading was tricky, and he needed the entire night to pull it off. Thus, Avery began, shoulder-to-shoulder, hand holding Birger’s.

Avery silenced his thoughts, he focused on erasing himself, his feet, his knees, his hips, his chest, and so forth. He allowed himself to sink into Birger, occupy his space, become him. Not in control but as a guest, a passenger. There to view, there to partake. Feel what Birger felt, live his experiences—hazy but embedded.

Darkness.

Then the cries of men—bellicose, others full of fright.

The clamor of steel against steel. The rumble of hooves and thundering ballistics. Hammers striking shields, arrows cutting the air.

The smell of sweat and blood and waste.

Avery’s eyes snapped open. He was on a battlefield, in the thick of it, bodies at war with one another, the land misty, the sky a cruel crimson from the rising sun. His armor felt heavy, arms tired, shins burning, sabatons sinking into a viscous mixture of blood and mud. Goddess…

“Grímsson!” A warning from behind. Avery’s body—Birger’s body—reacted quickly, pivoting, arm arcing just in time to parry and disarm. A pause. His opponent, fresh from adolescence, eyes wide with regret and fear. Birger would’ve spared him, but his father was watching, he was always watching. Birger did the only thing he could, and felled the youth with one slash, sword seeking the softness of his throat, hoping it ended him in an instant.

Avery squeezed his eyes shut. Not this, he didn’t want to see this. He focused his thoughts, on love, on sex.

He opened his eyes and stared up at a tent’s worn ceiling.

He was lying down, hard and aching, building to a climax. Birger panting, gripping the sheets overhead while someone held the back of his thighs, pinning his knees to his chest. Avery grunted, feeling strange as Birger’s lover leaned in… A man, older, bearded. A commander of some sort, body scarred and muscular. Was this him? Avery swallowed, he didn’t stand a chance then. This man was everything Avery was not—experienced, burly and virile and…well, there was gray at his temples, a touch in his beard. Avery focused on Birger. No, there wasn’t love here, it was purely carnal, maybe even a little misguided. This man was not the owner of the necklace and there was a strange relief in knowing that.

The necklace. Avery conjured it in his mind; a black gem and silver chain. Eyes closed, then opened, greeted by its gleam, nestled on a delicate pale chest.

“Bad dream?” came the voice, a warm Ourensean lilt. The tent was now a bedchamber, draped in crimson and medicinal in scent.

“The usual one,” Birger said, and Avery felt the rumble of his words within his own chest.

“Come.” Arms wrapped around him, pulling him close.

“Einar,” Birger said as he nestled into him, nose pressed to his long raven hair, where the smell of woody incense clung to him.

Einar, Avery repeated, jaw clenching. This was him then.

“I want to travel to Urnia, try every food, appreciate the landscapes,” Birger said suddenly, rising on his elbow, a boyish tinge to his words. “I heard there are hills of seven colors in Tatra. I’d love to see them.”

Einar laughed and stretched out, his dark hair fanned out beneath him, face delicate, lips a wanton pout. Einar looked like Avery, though ghostly pale with rounder eyes, the shapes were all there. If Avery was a desert at dawn, Einar was a lakeside at eventide. The realization stirred something foul within Avery; the truth made him nauseous.

“Then do it,” Einar said, black gem catching the candlelight.

“Not without you, come with me.”

“You know I can’t.”

“Then leave with me.”

Einar frowned. “Not this again, please…” He rose from the bed and covered his nakedness with a robe.

Birger was crestfallen, but stubborn. “Ourense is in shambles. I can’t continue to fight. I—”

“You’re a prince, a knight. It is your responsibility.” There was a bite to Einar’s words. Avery knew from the tone alone that this was an ongoing argument, neither side backing down, the issue always brushed aside. He felt Birger’s sadness. Einar didn’t understand him, he couldn’t understand him, not when—

~

“Stop!”

Aalap and Sachie jumped. Avery went quiet.

“What is this?” Birger demanded, voice shaking.

Avery couldn’t look at him “I’m just recalling—”

Birger slammed his fists down onto the table and stammered out incensed words that conveyed nothing coherent, just confusion and betrayal.

“Birger please, I—” Avery held his hands up against the verbal onslaught, shrinking back. “I didn’t do anything wrong. I just wanted to see…”

The knight stood, laughing, a strained and malicious sound. His face was flushed with humiliation and anger. “You didn’t do anything wrong?” He choked out another laugh, backing up, disbelieving. “You violated my privacy and you’re telling them!” He rudely gestured to Aalap and Sachie.

“Yeah well, Einar looks like me, how do you think that makes me feel? Here I thought you cared about me, had feelings for me, but you’re just looking for a replacement!” Avery stood, staring him down. “I regret nothing, you’re just pissed that I figured you out,” he said through his teeth, his own anger rising.

Birger lunged and grabbed Avery, a fist in his clothes so tight he could hear tearing. “You could never replace him,” Birger snarled, and his tenor paired with his unrestrained fury made Avery’s face hot, tears welling with the realization that he screwed up, and before he could apologize Birger released him with a shove and departed the haberdashery, slamming the door behind him. The doorbell dislodged and fell with a miserable clank.