Deception

"I'm hardly going to be storming about, yelling at people. I'll be sat at my desk, going through papers about the kingdom; it's not exhilarating for me, so I doubt it'll be for you either. I don't want you sat there, bored out of your mind when you could be resting in bed, Imogen," he replied sternly, side-eyeing her before averting his gaze elsewhere. It was easier being strict with her when he wasn't facing her, or he'd inevitably let his emotions rule him and give in to whatever she demanded. In this case, as much as he wanted to be around her, he couldn't face knowing that she might get worse because of his selfish need to have her around, out of bed where he felt she needed to be if she wanted to stand any change of getting better.

"...So no, you can't come with me. It's putting your health at risk. Finish your food, because you need to, and then go back to bed. You shouldn't have come down to eat with us, it's my fault for being selfish. I can't take that risk again. I'd rather you be in bed than wandering about the castle growing sicker. Do you understand? I'm not joking around; if I need to be strict with you so you get the message, I will," he continued, though in spite of his stern, almost monotone words, he refused to glance in her direction, only doing so briefly before making a quick exit.

The words didn't do much to improve the already tense atmosphere, though Themus managed to smile nonetheless, not knowing what else to do. "I can help you back to your room if you'd like, Imogen. I can't imagine you want my help, but I want to at least walk with you, in case you fall again. Neotoma, you should probably go with Lysander, I imagine he'll want to discuss work with you-- I don't know. Maybe he wants to be left alone. It's worth you heading to see him to find out."
 
“Ill let you help me, but just this once.” She replied in a murmur as she hide just how upset she felt. She knew Lysander had good intentions but that didn’t mean she appreciated them as she locked eyes with the plate of food presented to her. If it wasn’t for the fact that she felt exhausted she would have protested and perhaps even thrown a fit. Instead she cut into the meat carefully with pursed lips.

“Sometimes I wonder if he still sees me as his girlfriend,” she began after a pause, her eyes welling. “Look, I know I’m not one to get all emotional but I just... I dunno. I guess you know I’m desperate when I’m venting to you, Themus. I don’t know - I’m sorry, like I said. I’m sure you two will try your hardest on some potion and... I’m proud of you for working so hard.”
 
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Mushy, emotional conversations were hardly Themus' area of expertise. He was much more comfortable avoiding all sentimental topics, which was why he threw himself into his work and shirked all efforts of socialising. He attended the parties, just to stand in the corner all night with some alcohol, observing the festivities with a sullen frown. Seeing his sister grow emotional initially disturbed him, swallowing hard and averting his gaze in the effort to simply ignore her, as though her sniffles would suddenly render themselves inaudible if he didn't glance at her.

Eventually, he glanced back up and came to terms with how upset she was, realising that if there was anyone he could try and comfort, it ought to be his sister. If he couldn't get past the discomfort with her, there really wasn't any point in trying to do so for anyone else.

"I'm sure that's not the case. He loves you, doesn't he? I'm sure it's not ideal for him, nor for you, and I'm also sure your sickness prevents you from doing things most would do in a relationship, but I wouldn't doubt how he sees you. He hasn't asked anyone else to date him, has he? Only you. Which says a lot."
 
“He hasn’t dated anyone as far as I know,” she countered, her brows furrowing in frustration. She grew quiet once again, desperate to keep herself from growing too emotional, much like her brother’s aversion to feelings. Her desperation was only heightened by Neotoma’s presence; she didn’t trust the man to begin with, what with her hard-to-break isolationist views that she grew up with, plus he was someone both her brother and Lysander liked. If she made herself seem weak in front of the other, she’d only feel worse.

“I’ll try my best to make you feel better. I’m no doctor but my powers are very helpful in helping people,” Neotoma offered quietly. “Themus is nice to talk to, even though he can be a bit cold. Perhaps it’s something that runs in the family, but... that’s okay. I really don’t intend on hurting you.”
 
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"...Let's go and talk to him. It isn't fair for him to disregard you like this. He might think he's doing it for your benefit, but I don't think casting you aside and ignoring you is very beneficial. It's cruel, really. I know I'm guilty of not spending time with you but I'm working constantly; he hasn't got that excuse when he throws ridiculous, lavish parties nightly. Let's go and confront him; I'll speak for you if you want. I'll also take the blame if he gets angry." Themus suddenly decided, standing abruptly from his chair to make his way around the table to his sister. Going against something Lysander had all but ordered wasn't wise, but he figured that sometimes the young man needed to be challenged. If he didn't, he'd get away with acting stupid and letting his stubbornness lead into bad decisions-- like pushing his girlfriend away because he feared her health would get worse around him.

He made the decision out of consideration for her, Themus knew that, but he wasn't entirely comfortable watching the effect it had on his sister.

He took her hand without waiting for her to answer, determined to see his decision through. If they didn't, his sister would just end up in bed by herself while Lysander sulked over his work, growing increasingly more tense as the minutes went by, and that wasn't helpful for anyone.

"Unless you'd rather go to bed and let him drown in self-pity all night. I can imagine he'd do that or find solace in the arms of some desperate maid, which I don't want. Not when he could be with you-- it's best you come too, Neotoma. He doesn't want to seem intimidating to you, so your presence should -hopefully- keep his anger in check."
 
“Looks like I don’t really have a choice here, does it?” Imogen replied, taking her time to get up as her free hand grabbed the intricately designed cane. It was a gift she had been given by her handmaid and it was something she cherished more than she expected once receiving it, though the fact that she rarely left bed meant she rarely used it.

Taking her time, Imogen was more than a little embarrassed by how slow she walked but she had been too stubborn to use a wheelchair. Unlike Imogen, Neotoma hopped to his feet quickly to join the others, his own feet restless by just how slow it went.

“I’ll see Lysander first,” he decided after the walking became unbearable, a nervous smile on his lips. “Luke you said, he’s nice to me. Maybe if I go in, he’ll be buttered up and all that. It’s worth a shot, right?” He offered, though didn’t wait for a response as he hurried to the office. He knocked politely, assuming that storming in carelessly wasn’t very smart.
 
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Lysander didn't answer immediately, a long minute or two passing by before the door opened. That wasn't to say he was silent - he tried to be, hoping that whoever was knocking would assume he was taking a nap at his desk, but the sound of his soft crying was hardly subtle. He wasn't fond of tears, though if he ever did cry, he made sure that he was alone. His people didn't need to see him sobbing his heart out or they might doubt him, and he certainly didn't want Imogen seeing him cry either. He wanted her to believe he was strong at all times - not a quivering wreck, which he often could be whenever her ill health got to him.

He eventually opened the door once gathering a hold of himself, deciding that his eyes weren't too red to give away what he had been doing. At the very least, he could lie and say that he had an irritation or an infection - it would be a ridiculous, unbelievable lie, but one he would stick to if he was called out on the teary appearance.

"What do you want, Neo?" He smiled as he leaned against the doorframe, glancing behind the boy at the faint clacking noise of his girlfriend's crane against the floor, his smile dropping when he realised why that was. "...Is Imogen coming with you? She should be in bed; I fucking ordered her to. Is she trying to make me mad? Is that her way of having fun; making me angry?"
 
“She isn’t trying to make you mad, no. May I come in?” He responded, his black eyes darting to the side, towards the direction of the clicking. Taking in the king’s state, he frowned in sympathy. Daring to take Lysander’s hand, he forced back that frown to offer a smile.

“It’s okay, she just wants to talk, I think. She’s a fast talker, after all. Please don’t be upset, it’s... well, it’s upsetting to see. I care about you even if I’ve known you for so little time and I think perhaps talking things out might help?”
 
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"I'm not upset, don't say that. I don't get upset. Besides, she's been sick for a while now, I'm used to it. No point getting upset over something that's become the new norm. I have nothing to discuss with her for that reason. It's been a while since she was last well; we've talked about her illness in depth. What more is there to add to the discussion?" He countered as he quietly pulled the other back into the room, shutting the door behind him as quick as he could. It wouldn't be long before the others joined them, but he wanted to at least talk without his voice echoing down the corridor and Imogen overhearing anything.

"I'd rather not talk to her; it's just a mess. You know she gets exhausted just kissing me, right? Do you know how dreadful that makes her feel? And me, for that matter. I... feel like an asshole when I sleep with people, and she can't even kiss me without getting out of breath and exhausted and it's-- just a mess, really. I don't know how to remedy it."

He forced himself to smile after the sudden confession, collapsing back into his chair beside the desk where he had chosen to pour himself a large drink. Getting drunk wasn't the best solution, but it took his mind of everything, and that was all he could ask for.

"...You know I like you, don't you? That I think you're cute and that I'd happily enter into something romantic with you if that option ever revealed itself? Imogen said she was fine with that, but I know she feels awful not being able to do anything with me, and that makes me feel awful because I'm capable of doing things with others-- I'm babbling, it's really nothing you need to concern yourself about, Neotoma. You don't need to get sucked into the drama of my... relationship."
 
“It sounds complicated,” he admitted with a frown as he watched the king. “I’ve been alone primarily for quite a few years now, the idea of so many people with so many stories... it’s a bit confusing. Now to know that the King has his eyes on me isn’t something I would have expected just a year ago,” he admitted, his own babbling beginning in return as his cheeks brightened. Rocking on the heels of his feet through his sandals, he did offer an encouraging smile to the other while keeping his hands behind his back.

“I care about you deeply, deeper than I should at this point. This is all sort of... fun? That isn’t the right word, is it? Nonetheless, this may be distressing to you all but it’s a breath of fresh air to see such complex scenarios. It’s much like the novels I’ve written, only this time I’m here to help! It’s a strange feeling, though one I enjoy.”
 
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"...Yeah, well, as long as you're enjoying yourself, eh? I don't mean that in, like, a sarcastic way or anything; you having new experiences and doing something worthwhile is-- it's at least a good thing going on right now. Everything else is a fucking mess right now, so hey, don't let me bring you down, dude. I'm not usually this... boring to be around, you've seen that for yourself. It's just... Imogen. That situation with her health always gets me down, and then I feel guilty because, hell, I shouldn't complain when she's going through it," he laughed tiredly, resting his head on his hand before pouring himself out another glass of wine, doing the same for Neotoma without stopping to think whether he wanted one or not. The King wasn't in the habit of drinking alone, and much preferred doing so with others.

"And it's... the issue of an heir too. She's never going to be able to do that with me, you know? And I did want to get started on that soon. Not just to piss off that Queen you worked for, and not only to show them that I'm serious about ruling - I just figured that it's a necessity and I may as well get started soon. But she can't do that and there's no fucking way I'm going to get anyone else. Imogen wouldn't allow me to, for a start, and I'm not sure I could have a kid with anyone but her, anyway-- just ignore me, I'm babbling at this point. It's the alcohol," he murmured as an excuse, bringing the glass to his lips to take a sip, his eyes gazing off in contemplation. "...I need you to help her get better, Neo. For plenty of reasons, including the whole heir thing. I can't go to anyone else to... help me achieve that. It'd be wrong of me, and cruel, and Imogen won't ever agree to me finding someone else to do that for us. She's... ridiculously stubborn. A trait that runs in her family, given how stubborn her brother also is. I'm sure you've noticed how alike they are."
 
“Very. I’ve met plenty of stubborn people, though; orcs are very stubborn. In fact, they broke my arm when I disagreed with the bartender. It took a little while to heal, even with my magic. I’ve gotten much better with my magic since then, naturally, but still,” he reassured, desperate to calm the King’s Obvious nerves as Imogen approached closer. Wandering to Lysander’s desk, he stood by his side with a reassuring smile.

“Lysander? We need to speak.” The woman firmly declared once opening the door, a grimace on her lips from both anger and pain. “I am not going to sit back and let you be so demanding of me. I may be ill but it’s my body and- what are you two talking about?” She asked, taking in Neotoma’s smile cautiously.
 
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"...About how fucking idiotic orcs are. Nothing you need concern yourself of, Imogen. You are aware that you've disobeyed a direct order from your King, aren't you? As close as we are, in spite of the fact you and I were childhood friends, I am still your King and ruler. I told you to go to your bedroom, did I not? Maybe you're going deaf. I apologise if that's the case," he murmured sternly, his jaw tight at the sight of the woman enter his office, clearly hellbent on defending herself and her case against him. Despite his words, he wasn't angry in the slightest. Sure, he was peeved, but he could never be angry at her for too long - the whole spiel about being King was mostly a joke, having used it in the past plenty of times.

It was technically true, but he never expected Imogen to do whatever he said without fail. If anyone was exempt from treating him like the King, it was Imogen.


"You are a stubborn pain in my ass, you know," he snorted, breaking the facade immediately as he stood to take her hand in his own for support, leading her to the chair as slowly as possible. "I just... want to make sure you were alright. That's all. I overstepped the mark and I apologise. It's just... stressful, Imogen. But it's not you; it's also the situation with the other kingdoms, the distrust from Pruina... I'm just overwhelmed. You forgive me, don't you?"
 
“But it is me, sort of,” she countered, taking the man’s hand in his tight to keep her wobbling to a minimum. Once on the chair, she leaned back and took in the office properly. “I know you don’t want to hear it but I want to be serious with you, so if you need Themus and Neotoma to leave so you don’t want to be embarrassed or whatever, then fine. I just - I’m getting frustrated that you’re acting as if my condition is yours. I want you to help me but you don’t need to act as if you’re the one going through this all. Your stress for me is projecting onto your work and it shouldn’t affect your work.”

“... should I leave?” Neotoma meekly commented, moving from the desk warily to give room for the woman. Once he spoke up, Imogen craned her neck to take the Harenaen in. “... it’s hard to keep my mouth shut, I’m sorry.”
 
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"But it's not as if your condition doesn't affect me too, Imogen. I can't help but feel affected. Maybe that's wrong of me, but I care about you. It'd be fucking ridiculous if I didn't feel bad or stressed out because I'm failing to help you. How horrible would I look if I didn't display that amount of care for you? Naturally, with my care comes concern that... you're getting weaker and I'm unable to help you," he confessed with a tired groan, ignoring Neotoma completely - not because he was irked by him, but because, right now, Imogen deserved his complete attention. So much so, in fact, that he quietly smiled over to the others with a gesturing nod to the door for them to leave, doing so as politely as he could.

"I want a child, Imogen," he declared once left alone with the woman, reaching over for his wine when realising the courage it was giving him to admit to all of this. "I'm young and perhaps I shouldn't want an heir yet when I haven't put my plans into action. Especially not when I'm as fond of partying and romance and all of that, but I won't pretend that I'm not warming to the idea of... a kid. Aloria was devastated at the meeting because she's failed to have any and I made fun of her, obviously, but... I don't know. I feel like I might want one too, soon. And I know I can't because you're sick, so... it hurts. If you want me to be honest, it's... really hurting me."
 
“I understand,” she replied quietly, her hands folding neatly. Watching Lysander intently, she kept her face neutral. It wasn’t until the mention of the child did her face twist. She shouldn’t of, but Imogen didn’t hesitate to take the glass carefully and take a bit sip as well, exhaling hard oncecletting go of it.

“You’re making me feel guilty about something I can’t control. I’m trying to get better; I’m doing everything Themus says, I’m staying in bed and I’m trying to eat more. I want to have sex with you, even if it meant I didn’t get pregnant! I just... we’re both young, why do we need a child this soon? I’m not ready, both mentally and physically, I know you aren’t either.”
 
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"Because a) it's something I ought to do, and b) it'll piss off that bitch who hates me. I'd do anything to get under her skin. Having a kid when she's struggling to even find herself a man is hilarious to me. But whatever, I guess that's not a right reason to have a sprog, is it?" He snorted, his hand running through his green hair as he attempted to keep his own expression relatively mutual. When the one person he could honestly say he loved was this distressed, however, casualness was impossible.

"...You know I just want to be with you; around you, I mean. Sex is-- it'd be great, obviously. There's nobody in this fucking world I find more beautiful than you, Imogen, it's just-- we can't. You're too frail and if I was smaller-built and weaker, maybe it'd be... possible? I'm not, though. I'm strong and-- I'd just hurt you," he reminded - not that the differences in their statures needed to be emphasised when it was perfectly obvious. "Hey, I'm just happy being near you; talking to you and hugging and doing all that cute stuff. Even if you don't get better, I'm happy with you. I... don't need anything more than being around you, really. Sorta romantic and soppy coming from me, huh?"
 
“Very. In fact, I don’t see that side of you, I want you to be more soppy,” she replied, her expression still stoic... until she couldn’t hold it anymore, a small smile cracking on her lips. Easing further back in the chair. Rubbing her forehead to try and help with the bad migraine that rose to the surface. She hadn’t been out of bed this long in years so it was no surprise that she was feeling fatigued.

“We could try sex, Lysander. My bones won’t snap, don’t be that dramatic,” Imogen drawled before motioning the king closer, her hands resting on the side of the demon’s face before offering a kiss. “I’m not going to snap in half, even if you insist you’re some powerful sex god.”
 
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"Is your memory failing you? I seem to recall you calling me that dozens of times when we were younger. You're well aware that I'm great in the bedroom; you're just teasing me and feigning ignorance," he laughed, greatly appreciating the break in tension and the more relaxed, playful conversation. It was one of the reasons he fell in love with Imogen in the first place, always feeling relaxed around her and able to talk about anything and everything. Serious conversations were fine, they were part of a relationship too, but he was never fond of them with anyone, especially not someone he wanted to always have fun around.

"But hey, let's be honest. You're pretty frail, Imogen-- and while you may have, at one time, rivalled my strength, we can be honest and say that's not the case now. I don't want to, like, fling you onto the bed and dislocate something," he shrugged, wisely exercising caution. It wasn't easy to do when his main desire was to ignore the potential dangers and instead take her up on the offer without hesitating - he had wanted to be with her in that way for years, after all. As hard as it was, though, he knew better than to do that when the likelihood of her getting hurt was high.

"We don't need to, not until you're better. You're exhausted right now, Imogen. I... let's get you to bed, okay? Or at least somewhere more relaxing than this stuffy, dusty office. Can't be good for your lungs," he grunted, cursing himself for choosing to smoke even though he hadn't had any knowledge his girlfriend would arrive. "Come on-- how about we share a bath? That's romantic. We'll get some wine and I'll light some of those scented candles you like."
 
I like? Don’t pretend that you don’t like them either, Lysander,” she scolded in response, having grown too tired to really protest. She craved sex and romance just as anyone else, but it was true that her body wasn’t quite capable of it let, at least not in the traditional sense. She knew very well how she could be satisfied but pressing the matter would only make things stiff, and she was definitely no longer in the mood to get angry.

“Are you going to carry me again?” She questioned, her brows raised. “I look like a fool when you do that... but it’s nice to be reminded of how strong you are, sweetheart. I don’t mind as long as the servants don’t see, hm? especially not my handmaid, she would grow jealous.”