Çetžak swallows thickly.
It’s true he has already seen much more of the adorable butterfly he does now, but seeing them modestly dressed does numbers to his heart. It’s one thing in the dimness of everything else, but now that they are seated in the light of the lanterns, he can see the golden eyes through the veil. He can see the expanse of skin right below the person’s Adam’s apple, while the fingers peek out of their sleeves.
Those slender fingers hold a fan and under his gaze, they raise their hand, and look at him over its edge.
“Would… Would my lord perhaps wish for some wine? In case my lord is nervous, we may have a drink.”
Çetžak leans forward, cupping their cheek over the veil. Their eyes widen for a split second before they narrowed into a teasing smile. They lean into the touch, lower the hand fan and Çetžak feels the tip of it lightly scrape against the underside of his jaw. He lets the butterfly do this to him.
He hears an interested hum leave the person in front of him, and he closes his eyes. He makes no attempt to stop them when a hand grabs his wrist and takes it away from their cheek so they can stand. When they walk closer, the fan pushed him to tilt his head back so he faces upward instead.
He slowly opens his eyes when he hears some clinking. The veil is slowly removed to reveal a gorgeous face painted on the lips and at the tails ends of the eyes. The lips are arched into a smile and Çetžak can’t help but to smile to himself.
This is worth it.
“My lord, may I ask for your name? Naturally, I already know of the general’s name, but…”
“Çetžak Züčan. Call me whatever you want.”
Laž’ar thinks for only a brief moment, because a smile ripples in his eyes. “Çetžak then.”
There’s something in Çetžak’s face that Laž’ar can’t read, and it’s followed with an almost whiny, “U’il…”
“You may indeed call me that, m’lord.”
“I will treat that as your name.”
“Do that.”
The expression softens, fills with indulgence, as if he’d let Laž’ar do whatever he wants and Çetžak would let him.
He leans close, feeling freed without the veil. He hasn’t been able to talk to another person without a veil in so very long. Stray curls tickles his cheek. “Çetžak, what do you want from me?”
He doesn’t get a reply right away, so he puts some distance between them. Or tries to, at least, but a strong hand takes his upper arms and holds him very gently in place.
“Can I bring you home?”
Laž’ar feels his fan slip out of his hand, and he stares at Çetžak, who looks at him sheepishly.
He wants to say, “My lord needs to know I’m not for sale,” or, “I’m far too expensive for my lord,” but as he looks the man over once more, the words get stuck in his throat.
An intricate hair accessory, beads in silver and red precious stones, earrings he didn’t noticed earlier, precious brocade and embroidery he didn’t think too much of before, the waist ornament, metal vambraces with jewels.
Çetžak may have dressed to show off his wealth for the madame, but Laž’ar feels now as if this man might perhaps have done it for this sole suggestion. To show he can make this promise true.
He lets out a choked out, “If that’s what my lord wants…”
Çetžak heasd the unsaid, apparently, and looks expectantly at him.
“But…?” he says when Laž’ar doesn’t continue.
“I hope my lord will… allow me my freedom.”
A soft smile fills Çetžak’s expression, and he takes Laž’ar’s hands in his own. “Anything you want, U’il. Anything I can give you, everything I can give and you want, I will give you.”
“Truly?”
“Yes,” Çetžak replies breathlessly. “Truly. Always.”
Laž’ar doesn’t know how to react. His good elder brother, the Second Young Master Retnüir, and Third Young Master Khanuk may have been willing to try to pay his debt, but even then, they couldn’t make promises.
This man told him he’d give up his house for him.
And he is…
If he didn’t know…
“Çetžak, how will I ever repay you?”
Çetžak brings his hands to his chest, making Laž’ar take a step forward, kicking the folding fan. “All I want is your happiness.”
Laž’ar looks down at those adoring eyes. His heart suddenly feels at ease, as if many years of tension and anxiety abruptly has left him. He smiles indulgingly, unaware the mischievous glint is nowhere to be seen for once, and that he takes this one man’s breath away.
“My lord wants U’il to be happy, so I will be happy for Çetžak’s sake.”
Only a few days later, the Ažamür Cavalry has to depart Žanutian’ur to report back to General Kharanlar. The young division general Züčan rides at the front, leading his men. Dressed in blue and gold, he makes the impression of a god as the banner flapps in the wind and the cloak falls heavily from his shoulders.
On both sides follow his two captains, Nür and Židad, dressed in battle armour with as serious expressions as their division general’s. Children chase after them, and Çetžak looks around to see if any of them catches his eye, the same he once caught the General’s.
Satisfied even if none seem that special, he leaves Žanutian’ur behind him.
No one notices at there’s an additional carriage. And no one in Žanutian’ur get to see the stern expression soften as the young general turns around and rides to meet the exquisitely decorated carriage. The carriage slows to a halt, and the general dismounts only to enter the carriage.
The person inside looks up from the text they read, their expression teasing.
“And what has this lowly performer done to receive such an honourable man to see me?”
Çetžak smiles slightly as he sits down next to his U’il. He gazes at the beautifully painted face, and the hair now properly braided with hair accessories, the veil removed for good. He wears the same water lily robes as he had a few days ago, but it’s now accompanies by jewellery fit for royalty instead.
He takes U’il’s hand.
He would give this person the world. This person deserves everything good there is.
“U’il, no one stands higher in my heart than you do. I’m honoured you’re willing to come with me. And that’s all I could ever ask for.”
U’il chuckles behind the book.
“You are no good, Çetžak.”
“Hmm?”
“You make it sound like you’d court me. You need to educate yourself in literary art a little more, I’m afraid.”
Çetžak smiles.
After all, one day, perhaps, he’d be blessed enough to court his U’il. But this is enough, as long as he could be beside him, no matter what path U’il chose after this.
“I might take a moment or two to learn to express myself in clearer terms.” He sweeps a stray strand from U’il’s forehead. “I’ll learn all the proper procedures as well.”
U’il looks at him incredulously. “What procedures? Surely you already know how to be polite?”
Çetžak squeezes U’il’s fingers softly. “I’m sure my love might just go unnoticed by the most oblivious of people I care for.”
And I care for none other than you.
Author’s Note
And that’s the end of the story. As for the short bonus scene, it can be found below.
Bonus
Lounging on the out-of-place divan, U’il peers at Çetžak over his newly-acquired silver-handled circular silk fan. Çetžak pretends not to notice as he pours himself a cup of tea, a drink smuggled in from the lands further east — from the land of the of the Gečan or the Žan peoples. He raises the cup to his lips and sips it as U’il keeps studying him.
In the past few months, the second division moved north, then east, and now awaits the first division near the border, so that Çetžak on one hand can deliver the news of his acquired trade deals with the foreign merchants, and on the other receive orders from General Kharanlar.
And while waiting at the temporary camp of the second division, Çetžak is rather carefree. He spends his days mostly in his tent with the courtesan he bought the freedom of. Said courtesan wears a silver kvanand beaded gold earrings, with necklaces and bracelets, colourful from many semi-precious stones. This courtesan is indeed a vision among the strong and tall military men of the camp, a delicate flower cared for and cultivated among the ugliest of weeds.
“Am I so interesting to look at?” the general asks, eventually. He puts down his cup to peers back at U’il . “Or is there something else?”
“You are indeed a sight worthy to rest my eyes on,” U’il replies.
“Then I hope you keep watching me until the end of our days.”
U’il lowers his fan and picks up the book he had been reading. “Only if you keep me entertained for just as long.”
Çetžak chuckles softly and pours U’il a cup. “As you will,” he falls quiet for a moment, but as he places the cup on the side table next to U’il , he adds, “Husband.”
Startled, U’il nearly drops his reading, and the precious silk fan that Çetžak had recently given him, into his cup of smuggled tea.