Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/5817229.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Graphic_Depictions_Of_Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      James_Bond_(Craig_movies), James_Bond_-_All_Media_Types
  Relationship:
      James_Bond/Q, 00Q
  Character:
      James_Bond, Q_(Bond_-_Craig_movies), Gareth_Mallory, Alec_Trevelyan, Eve
      Moneypenny, Bill_Tanner, Vesper_Lynd, Raoul_Silva
  Additional Tags:
      Alternate_Universe, Past_Child_Abuse, Aphenphosmphobia, Phobia_of
      touching, King!James, High_Priest!_Q, Silva_is_the_leader_of_the_rebels,
      it's_complicated_-_Freeform, Flower_Crowns, Religious_Imagery_&
      Symbolism, Symbolism, the_empire, The_Cult, Slow_Build, I'm_extremely
      mean_to_Q, Poor_Q, Dark, Angst, there_will_be_sex_in_the_future,
      Kidnapping, Psychological_Torture
  Stats:
      Published: 2016-01-25 Updated: 2016-10-16 Chapters: 12/? Words: 27432
****** Selfish Prayers ******
by sunaddicted
Summary
     "Why do they always make them look like glorified whores?" James
     muttered, shivering as he remembered the late High Priest - an odious
     fat man that had been made leader of the Cult at the questionably
     venerable age of sixty-seven - thusly clothed; at least, he was
     thankful that the new High Priest was such a finely boned and
     handsome boy.
Notes
     This strange world wouldn't have come to life without the support and
     beta-reading of my lovely murder wife @fellowshipofthegay! Thank you
     love for brainstorming with me and bearing with my constant second
     guessing of every sentence, you're wonderful and amazing ♥
     I hope you'll enjoy this world as much as I'm enjoying crafting it.
***** 1 *****
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes
                                       1
Q impassively watched the late High Priest being reverently lowered on a
massive pyre, nestled in excessively colourful bouquets and his lifeless body
shrouded by a thick veil bathed in perfumed oils that aimed at hiding the
sickly sweet stench of decay: rotting flesh and withering flowers subtly
poisoning the air underneath the choking scents of myrrh and sandalwood.
In such a glorious way his tormentor disappeared from the land of the living,
his mortal spoils being honoured in a great bonfire in front of the steps of
the Temple, a great multitude of acolytes crying his passing while already
speculating about the new leader of the Cult.
Even the King, a notorious infidel, was paying his formal respects to the late
High Priest, ensconced in the middle of his security detail and looking
politely bored by the psalms being chanted. Q didn't spare his blond hair and
icy-blue eyes more than a perfunctory glance, already familiar with the stern
face of the Empire's ruler.
"You could be bothered to show some emotion, Q" Bill whispered louder than he
normally would, keeping a safe distance from the other's skin.
As if a switch had been flicked in his brain, the painfully beautiful face of
the young priest was distorted by pain faked so perfectly that seemed he truly
was being clawed at by grief - an expertly carved mask that naturally fit over
his sharp features.
"That's mildly scary" Bill remarked, sadness and regret dripping from his
words: they should have never let the High Priest free reign with Q's
upbringing, especially since they all were aware of their leader's mad vision
of manipulating the boy into the Eternal's perfect vessel. Nobody but him had
been cleared to touch the child, not even to feed or bathe him - Bill shivered
at the terrible idea of what touching might have entailed once Q had grown into
a withdrawn boy that screamed whenever someone even hinted at ruffling his
endearing curls or absentmindedly bumped into him, signs of abuse so clearly
etched allover him.
"You wanted emotion" Q pointed out, his jade-green irises never straying from
the corpse of the man who had brought him up. He was glad Bill had practically
ordered him to show some grief since he was having trouble to refrain from
displaying the odd mix of hatred and relief bubbling in his stomach.
Bill sighed and stepped closer to Q, making sure their robes didn't brush one
against the other "He wasn't a good man, Q"
"May the Eternal forgive the blasphemy you just sprouted"
"May the Eternal forgive the soul of the man who cruelly abused you"
Q blanched and clenched his fists, burying his short nails in the tender skin
of his palms, using the pain to centre himself: nobody spoke of his abuse, it
was an untold rule of the Cult - especially since nobody had ever tried to save
him from having the need of human contact beaten and fucked out of his body
"Hardly a topic of conversation at a funeral, isn't it?" he spat out, barely
moving his lips so that nobody could read the words blossoming on his mouth.
"I just want you to understand that what was done to you is nowhere near what
the Eternal would have wanted nor what any decent human being would have
condoned" Bill sentenced sternly.
Q shuddered, keeping himself from falling apart in front of everyone "I know:
child abuse hardly is holy and natural" It didn't change the fact he couldn't
bear someone touching him without his consent - and the mere idea of sex was
enough to give him nightmares: the High Priest had irremediably ruined him,
created the perfect vessel for the Eternal making sure another's touch would
never spoil his purity.
"You know there's people you can talk with, doctors that are specialised into
dealing with traumas" Bill suggested, studying how the flickering orange flame
licked at the corpse, hungrily consuming the flesh bloated with consumption.
"My kind of trauma is slightly different from that suffered from soldiers
coming back from war" Q shrugged "Besides, if I talked about my childhood there
would be a scandal to deal with"
Bill wished he could deny the last resigned statement, but nodded his agreement
"You'll be touched during the ceremony" he changed the topic to the mass
following the funeral during which the Cult would present Q as the new High
Priest.
Q shivered "I know, I'm honestly considering to take some drugs" he admitted,
internally cringing at the prospect of hands stroking his skin to paint white,
golden and crimson arabesques on his face and hands; maybe he could have
managed a single and trusted person such as Bill Tanner touching him, but a
throng of priests who barely acknowledged the abuse he had suffered was an
horrifying prospect.
Bill shot a quick glance at the young man standing next to him to ascertain
whether he was being serious - not that Q had ever been known as someone
inclined to joke "I don't think intoxication would do any good to your health"
"Neither would having an hysterical breakdown" Q reasoned rather coldly.
"Go in your new chambers and do it yourself, who cares about tradition" Bill
suggested; everyone was aware of Q's phobia of touch and he didn't imagine a
cacophony of voices would rise against his idea: no-one wanted to tarnish the
public image of the Cult with an High Priest falling apart at the seams "Come
on, I'll tell you what to do"
Q contemplated the burning corpse for a few seconds, inhaling the nauseating
and oily tang of the thick smoke clouding above the pyre: it made his eyes
water and his throat burn, prompting a few dry coughs from his lungs "I would
have loved him like a son"
"He should have cherished you like a father" Bill said comfortingly, his
fingers itching to squeeze his elbow to ground him.
"Or maybe I just was an unlovable child" Q mused bitterly, voicing one of the
worries that had always gnawed at his brain. He had been abandoned on the steps
of the Temple when he had been barely two years old: too old to forget life
with a family and too young to recall his parents' faces; they must have found
something inherently wrong with him for choosing to throw him away - poverty
clearly hadn't been a reason since the High Priest had shown him the luxurious
clothes he had been wearing that day.
Bill shook his head "Q, it wasn't your fault"
The young man ruefully smiled at him "I guess I'll wait for Judgement" He
tentatively offered Bill a trembling hand "You're a good friend"
The older priest quickly caressed those outstretched fingers, not taking
advantage of Q's trust "Let's go and make you the High Priest"
===============================================================================
James dispassionately observed the priests carefully swathe the boy in richly
embroidered robes, crowning him as the High Priest of the Cult with a golden
circlet and fresh reddish-orange roses and startlingly blue passionflowers that
almost disappeared amongst his unruly curls; a hauntingly morbid melody was
played in the depths of the Temple and prayers were muttered with utmost
devotion and blind faith; incense sensually curled around them and made the
acolytes' eyes watery-red while finely shrouding the sad features of the High
Priest, painted in gold and white arabesques while his plush mouth had been
highlighted in pasty crimson; jade-green irises transfixed themselves on the
sunrays that bathed the smoky inside of the Temple and shone upon the golden
circlet, giving life to an illusory halo and gifting the youngest High Priest
ever with some apparent divinity.
For his part, James just saw a barely legal youth being exploited by the Cult
to attract more acolytes and show its willingness to change and evolve,
stepping into the present: an age ruled by revolutionaries that wished nothing
more than enclose in a crypt the older generation with all of its paraphernalia
and ghosts in order to establish a new order - hadn't he been one of those
despised relics, King James would have gladly supported the downfall of the
Cult.
With a barely concealed sigh and a subtle cough to clear his throat from the
burning of the spicy incense - lavender and cinnamon, twirling together in an
obscenely decadent cloud that did nothing to suggest the High Priest's supposed
holiness and untouched purity - the King shifted on his upholstered seat,
trying to stretch his cramping muscles and alleviate the boredom: his body was
one of an active person - one of a ruthless warrior - and stillness was
unsuited to his energetic disposition; he had spent the whole morning watching
a pyre burn and now he had to sit through the first mass of the new High
Priest, wasting his time to appease the Cult.
As if sensing his restlessness, his advisor gently nudged his arm with a pointy
elbow, even as he kept himself focused on the words being sprouted by the High
Priest "Not too long before the end of the ceremony, your Highness" Mallory
whispered, somewhat comfortingly, well-aware of the King's short temper when it
came to matters of religion: he had never been a believer, not even when his
poor mother - the late Queen Monique - had entrusted him to the care of a
priest to educate his young soul.
"Why do they always make them look like glorified whores?" James muttered,
shivering as he remembered the late High Priest - an odious fat man that had
been made leader of the Cult at the questionably venerable age of sixty-seven -
thusly clothed; at least, he was thankful that the new High Priest was such a
finely boned and handsome boy.
Alec, the head of his personal guard, mutely snickered under the cover of his
hand plastered over his mouth and faked muttering a prayer.
Mallory nudged him again, harder and aiming at bruising "Not here where you
could be heard, if you please your Majesty"
James shifted again on his seat and pointedly observed the High Priest raise
his arms in an empty invocation as he threw his head back and distended his
throat, a melodious and baritonal voice escaping from that pallid and fragile
neck in breathtakingly powerful hymns: he definitely could sing and enthrall
his audience.
"Just like a prized concubine" Alec observed, eyes twinkling merrily "He would
look good in an harem, that willowy body draped in sheer veils and dancing to
an exotic tune" he added with a playful leer that wrought a chocked laugh out
of James.
"Could you two shut up with your blasphemies?!" the advisor hissed, hand
twitching with the temptation of smacking the two men, like he used to when as
children they had been entrusted in his care; watching them grow up, he had
known the two would be an awful handful but sometimes they still managed to
surprise him with their idiocy - especially James: apparently, becoming King
had done nothing to make him more tactful when it came to politics.
Mallory looked again at the High Priest, listening to his the prayers that
sounded more like longing poetry when dripping from that sad mouth; for once,
it seemed that the leader of the Cult cared more about religion than his
predecessors and Mallory hoped the young man would be able to bring the Cult
back to its origins, eradicating corruption and vice from the older clerics and
establish a decent relationship with the Empire - supposing that James didn't
immediately antagonise him and tried for some kind of dialogue. He glanced at
the King and took in the way his pale irises twinkled with interest as they
roved over that lithe and willowy body, probably picturing him as cheap
catamite ready to jump in the King's bed - he would need to have some words
with James, make sure to get through his thick skull that the High Priest
wasn't going to be one of his bedwarmers.
Alec sighed in relief when the music lulled to a stop and the last syllables
fell into silence, shattering in a gentle murmuring, and the High Priest
lowered his arms to walk around the altar and face the throng of acolytes
waiting for his words: the mass was almost to its end.
Jade-green eyes scanned the crowd and crimson lips were manipulated in a
benevolent and empty smile "Well met" he debuted, his speaking voice less
impressing than his singing one "It's with hesitancy that I take place as your
guide, trembling in the steps of my great predecessors; my voice is thin and my
words are inadequate, poor instruments with which I hope to show you the Path
to Judgement" he paused to take in a deep breath and the smile warmed, melting
at the corners "It's who I am and I offer it all to you" A brief bow of his
crowned head signalling the ending of his brief and self-deprecating speech,
strategically hiding to the acolytes his face and whatever emotion might have
been playing over his features.
A rounded and smiling priest in the background clapped his hands first "Well
met, High Priest Q"
The Temple echoed with the greeting and the cheerful applause of the faithful
crowd.
"Q: what a strange name" James mused, politely standing as everyone else in the
Temple "Fitting, though"
 
Chapter End Notes
     Passionflowers are the symbol of faith, holy love and religious
     fervour.
     Orange roses stand for fascination.
***** 2 *****
Chapter Summary
     "I don't care about being liked" Q cleared "He could curse my name
     with every single breath the Eternal has seen fit to bestow in his
     lungs and I wouldn't care - it's mutual respect what I'm trying to
     achieve"
Chapter Notes
     First meeting, yeay! I'll leave this here for you while I try to
     finish writing the 4th chapter lol
     As usual, beta'd by my lovely wife @fellowshipofthegay
                                      2
Q primly sat in the receiving room annexed to his private chambers, waiting for
the King to come and pay his respects as tradition dictated; Q would have
gladly procrastinated the moment he was forced to swallow his nerves and face
the most intimidating man he had ever glanced at: with his large and muscled
shoulders and the perpetually frowning mouth, King James emanated a disquieting
aura that made Q feel like a terrified child again. Bill, as attentive as
always, offered him a cup of steaming tea that he gratefully accepted, sipping
from it with care in order to avoid smearing the rouge over his lips and
letting its warmth soothe his high-strung nerves "Most pathetic speech ever" he
sighed tiredly, cringing as he recalled his own words "Thanks for the
encouraging applause, though"
Bill rolled his eyes while fluffing a thick cape over Q's trembling shoulders,
the ceremonial robes not doing much to keep him warm "It was humble and genuine
- it's something people like"
"Hardly impressive" Q pointed out.
Bill's retort was cut off by the entrance of the High Priest's security detail:
a handful of guards that would make sure the Empire didn't attempt at the High
Priest's life; the relationship between the two authorities had always been
strained and the odd tale of assassination on both parts made its grim
appearance in their history - it meant the King and his party were going to set
foot in the heart of the Temple in a few moments.
Q rose from his seat, hitching the cape closed on his throat as if to shield
himself as much as possible from the glacial gaze of the King, uncaring of the
white chalk that would probably stain the brocade. He was taking a deep breath
when a perfunctory knock was heard and a priest opened the door to lead in the
visitors.
The King's guards were the first to enter, fanning out in the room to
efficiently assess its security before lining themselves up along the walls in
a attempt at seeming as inconspicuous as possible, giving the illusion they
wouldn't listen on any part of the conversation; only a blond and burly man
stood in the middle, clearly waiting to stand next to the King and shove
himself in harm's way to protect him. A sourly looking dignitary followed, a
polite smile plastered on his face pointing out he was some kind of advisor.
Lastly, King James made his sombre entrance, his eyes immediately zeroing in on
Q and a predatory grin blessing his lips.
Looking at him, clothed in tailored but simple garments, Q felt overdressed in
his shimmering robes embroidered with golden thread and the circlet embracing
his forehead "Well met, your Highness" he murmured and nodded in greeting
instead of offering his hand, keeping it twisted in his cape and out of sight.
James quirked an eyebrow at the clear wish for physical distance between them
"Well met, your Grace" He complied with the silent agreement of no touching and
didn't hint at wanting an handshake "Gareth Mallory, my personal advisor, and
Alec Trevelyan, head of my personal guards" he introduced briskly, without
wasting breath with useless frills or titles.
Q smiled, feeling his facial muscles strain with tension "Honored to be making
your acquaintance. Please, take a sit" he invited as refreshments were brought
into the room and artfully disposed on the table in front of his guests "Help
yourself"
"Thank you for your kindness, your Grace" Mallory sat closer to James than it
was proper, so that he could jam his elbow in his ribs without being noticed
and grabbed the pitch of chilled water, busying himself with pouring some in
their glasses "My congratulations and best wishes for your new position in the
Cult"
"Thank you. As I said, I hope to be worthy of such a responsibility" Q sat in
his chair but kept his back ramrod straight, trying to look more imposing than
he was: the three men in front of him had a military demeanour clinging to
them, clearly as dangerous as any other soldier in the room "In particular,
it's one of my wishes to have a more open and peaceful relationship with the
Empire: in these troubled times, allies have more value than enemies"
James cocked his head to the side to better observe the young High Priest,
analysing the words he had just hung in the air between them "You speak well,
your Grace, but putting your words in practice might not be that simple" he
challenged and snagged a pastry from the tray, sliding the bite-sized sweet
morsel into his mouth.
Q frowned "I can't see why it should be so" The petty squabbling between the
Cult and the Empire had never made any sense to him; true, the King wouldn't
probably manage to rule if he didn't at least show some regard to the Cult, but
rarely the two institutions meddled in the same matters "Your Highness has the
birthright to rule the Empire, while I take care of its citizens' souls: our
spheres of influence are quite different"
At those words Mallory perked up, his interest titillated by the sound
reasoning of the young man, who clearly didn't realize how liberal was his
thinking compared to the rest of the clerical body "Are you aware that the
Empire has been obliged to pay a tax to the Cult, your Grace?"
"I was raised in these sacred halls" Q offered as an affirmative answer "If
it's mere a tax keeping us at war, the issue is easily fixed: the Cult could
use some modesty"
"Says the man dressed better than than the King" James provoked, earning
himself an elbow in his side.
"Flashier perhaps, surely not better - your Highness' garments are not those of
a commoner" Q politely pointed out, letting a bit of bite seep in his words: he
was young, but he wouldn't let the King stomp allover him.
James let a startled laugh escape his throat, leaning over the table to study
the endearing enigma the High Priest represented "You're right, of course" he
conceded: it wasn't a secret his clothing was tailored and of an high quality
"What's the name of the blue blossoms adorning your curls, your Grace?"
Subconsciously, Q's fingertips brushed against the petals under the disguise of
getting a strand of hair out from his forehead "Passionflowers" he answered
while trying to predict towards which new and bizarre direction the King was
steering their conversation "Would you.. Would you like one, your Highness?
Though, I'm afraid they've already started to wilt" The offer came out clearly
tentative, but Q wouldn't certainly feel the loss of a passionflower - not when
the hothouse was brimming with them - and the King seemed to be inexplicably
fascinated by the exotic flowers crowning his head. His digits easily plucked
one without dismantling the whole garland and he offered it to the King,
mentally preparing for the inevitable brushing of fingers that would occur.
James made sure not to make contact with the High Priest's chalked hand as he
accepted the wilting flower "I've never seen such a splendid work of art" he
said while keeping eye contact with the younger man, searching the restless
depths of those jade-green eyes.
"Nature is innovative, a constant surprise" Q lowered his gaze and mentally
expressed his gratitude for the thick layers of makeup surely hiding the blush
he could feel burning on his cheeks.
"Youth is no guarantee of innovation" James sentenced, grimacing as Mallory's
elbow once again found its way amidst his ribs.
"And age is no guarantee of efficiency" Q pointed out, hinting at how poorly
the King and the late High Priest had fared together, too focused on their
bickering to face the consistent threat the subversives posed.
James popped another pastry past his lips and smiled while getting up "We'll
get along splendidly, I believe. I think it's time we let you enjoy some rest,
your Grace"
The guards filed out of the room, as if a silent order had been whispered in
their ears, and Q stood up to bid farewell to the King and his entourage "May
the Eternal keep you safe until you're in your home"
"May the Eternal bless your words" Mallory answered before James could make a
fool of himself and reveal he knew next to nothing regarding the Cult "I'll
look forward our next meeting"
"Likewise" the King drawled, the passionflower still in pinched by his
fingertips.
They disappeared without fanfare, followed by the High Priest's own security
detail and Q was once again left alone with Bill "I don't know what to make of
this meeting" he admitted and picked from the tray on of the pastries the King
had seem to be fond of: the lemon-flavoured cream decadently melted on his
tongue while his molars gently enclosed over the fragrant and soft shortbread.
"You piqued their interest - obviously" Bill could confirm that the King had
never uttered more than a couple of words to the late High Priest each meeting,
displaying complete disregard and disinterest in what he had had to say; with
Q, King James had seemed to come alive, his voice gladly leaving the prison of
his vocal chords to engage Q in a witty and vaguely friendly bantering.
"Just because I'm an infant compared to my predecessors, as the King has so
rudely highlighted"
"Maybe in the beginning, but your lashing tongue is probably to blame for the
attention the King payed to you" Bill sat on one of the sofas, relaxing his
tensed muscles while wishing Q wouldn't work himself up over such trivialities:
in the end, if he didn't manage to make peace between the Cult and the Empire,
no-one would have suffered more than before "The King is no politician, Q: he
would have made it clear, if he loathed you"
"I don't care about being liked" Q cleared "He could curse my name with every
single breath the Eternal has seen fit to bestow in his lungs and I wouldn't
care - it's mutual respect what I'm trying to achieve"
"Way harder than being merely liked"
===============================================================================
"James, I swear to the Eternal, the next time you don't shut your mouth I'll
choke you with a damned pastry!" Mallory threatened in the safety of the King's
private carriage, his voice lowered by a couple of octaves and eyes fiercely
glaring at James, who was paying more attention to the withering passionflower
than to his words "You were borderline offensive"
Alec teasingly tutted at James, waggling his index finger as if scolding a
child "Really, you could have avoided saying he's just a child stepping in the
grownups' playground"
"He's more mature than you both put together!" the advisor sighed heavily,
massaging his throbbing temples with his fingertips "He seems reasonable and
open to having a dialogue"
James hummed, distracted by his own thoughts swarming like a cloud of angry
bees in his brain, almost drowning out every noise that wasn't their nearly
incessant buzzing "He's different"
Mallory loudly snapped his fingers "James, James look at me" he ordered, voice
stern and cutting at the edges "Forget about bedding the High Priest"
"What?" Alec waved his fingers in front of James' eyes to attract his attention
"My friend, the High Priest is a no-no" Sometimes his best friend's stupidity
amazed Alec: who would even think about bedding someone bound to chastity?
"Why do you always assume I want to fuck every remotely attractive person that
happens on my path?"
"Because you do" Alec declared at the same time Mallory pointed out that
seducing possibly hostile politicians and other rulers seemed to be James'
preferred tactic "Besides, he's a virgin - not exactly your type" Alec added,
attempting at throwing a shade upon the nice picture James had probably painted
in his mind.
James sighed - something he seemed to be doing a lot that day "For your
information I'm not interested in having sex with the High Priest: he's barely
a man" Despite trying to sound as convincing as possible, Alec and Mallory
still looked at him with doubt creasing their foreheads; well, he was the damn
King: he wasn't going to swear on his heart like a child about his intentions
regarding the High Priest.
James closed his eyes, signalling the end of their conversation, and regarded
the image of the High Priest's face seared in the back of his lowered eyelids:
Vesper cheekily smiled at him from those painted lips, hidden just under the
cutting features of the boy.
***** 3 *****
Chapter Summary
     "Don't you believe in Evil, your Grace?" The King's voice was a
     liquid baritone against the shell of Q's rapidly reddening ear.
Chapter Notes
     As always, beta'd by the lovely @fellowshipofthegay ♥
See the end of the chapter for more notes
                                       3
Q was having a nightmare: the bathtub in which he was drowning was filled to
the brim with flowers instead of water; drying lichens spotted with a sickly
yellow itched on the patches of skin they had claimed and dead leaves rustled
under his flaying limbs, withered roses blossomed on his chest and weighed
surprisingly heavy on his heaving lungs, bright pink plum and quince blossoms
covered every exposed centimetre of his transparent skin, yellow tulips blinded
him with their thick petals that couldn't be dislodged by the panicky
fluttering of his lashes and white tamarisk flowers gagged his desperate
screams.
It felt like a thousands of insects were crawling over his oversensitised skin,
parasites pouring out of the wilting blossoms, chased away from the protective
and satiny embrace of the petals by the sweet stench of rotting greenery - his
blunt nails relentlessly scratched and scratched, leaving behind angry red
welts in their attempt at stripping the bones of the flesh cramping with
terror.
Q screamed and the buds filled his mouth, bitter and pasty on his taste buds as
they obstructed his trachea, closing his air passageways and making his lungs
burn with the lack of oxygen.
Despite not being able to see, Q could perceive the hand slipping smoothly
through the flowers as if trading through cool water to reach for his left
thigh. He immediately recognised the callouses possessively brushing against
his skin, scraping at the encrusted lichens and trailing towards his inner
thighs, aching to fondle him.
Tears streamed down his cheeks, sticking the petals to his face, and choked
pleas bubbled in his strangled throat while he forced his trembling legs
closed, knowing that it wouldn't stop the man from touching him.
A shushing noise echoed in the room "Did you truly believe yourself rid of me,
my dear Q?" the man asked, not a trace of mockery to be detected.
Hearing that voice, grainy and dry as gritty sand, was disheartening: the fight
left his weakening body, limbs falling limp as if he was a puppet to which the
strings had been cut. Q loosely curled at the bottom of the bathtub, reciting
prayers to the Eternal in his mind to avoid focusing on the lightheadedness
scattering his thoughts and the lascivious caresses forced on the tender flesh
of his backside.
When a digit trailed up the cleft inbetween the creamy and quivering cheeks of
his butt, drily rubbing against the tightly furled muscles of his hole, the
nightmare shattered into shimmering dust and Q managed to wake up and let his
screams loose into the sticky air of his chambers permeated by the mind-numbing
scent of incense and his own sweat.
The guards stationed at the door of his apartments rushed in, eyes sweeping in
search of an enemy as Q kept sobbing and shouting himself hoarse, his thin
spine shaking so terribly that he felt like it was going to neatly snap in two.
"Your Grace, you need to breathe" someone ordered, someone on which Q couldn't
focus - the finger was still toying with the most intimate nook of his body,
pushing against the rim to gain access, and another hand gripped a hipbone to
keep him still.
Q was going mad, he just wanted the touching to stop! The shadows were creeping
at the edge of his vision, staining the twilight in his bedroom with the indigo
darkness of nightshades.
"Your Grace, you're safe. You'll hurt yourself if you don't calm down" another
voice tried to talk sense into him.
"We'll have to sedate him" There were several strangers in his room and Q could
feel their judging eyes staring at him, thirsty for the troubled shards of his
soul.
When his eyelids fell closed again, disconnecting him from any sensory input, Q
woke in his own mind filled with yellow tulips and the King smiling among them,
the light blue of his eyes burning supernaturally bright and resembling
fragments of crystal-clear sky fallen upon the Earth.
===============================================================================
Bill watched Q methodically paint his skin white, fingers trembling with
exhaustion "It's been a while since you suffered from night terrors" Insomnia
had taken the place of Q's horrid nightmares, his brain deciding that avoiding
sleep was worth it if it spared him from the morbid attention of his tormentor,
who hadn't enjoyed being woken up in the were hours of night by desperate
crying.
Q shrugged, his nightgown slipping down a thin shoulder to reveal the stark
sharpness of his collarbone and the hollow at the base of his slender throat,
vulnerable under the satiny veil of tender flesh "Stress" The meagre and
unsatisfactory explanation rolled arid down his tongue, the consonants slipping
hard-edged against his teeth before escaping in a shallow hiss. The night had
left its clawing marks deep in his innards, ready to scab over and fester with
infection and torment him for the rest of his life, a constant presence
murmuring at the back of his mind to remind him how worthless he was. A shade
of opaque gold was layered over his lips and Q strode behind a paperscreen to
slip in the simplest garments he had managed to find in his wardrobe "I'm going
to pray in the chapel"
"You should rest" Bill clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth in a
clear expression of stern disappointment "You'll have to celebrate mass in the
late afternoon" he reminded him.
Q donned the brocade cape, making use of the hood to hide the mess of his
untamed hair he hadn't even bothered to brush into submission "Contemplating
the Eternal will help me to unwind"
"You didn't even eat your breakfast" Bill didn't enjoy being a mother hen, he
had never been good at taking care of other people than himself - one of the
reasons why he had chosen a life devoted to the Eternal, taking for granted the
solitude it entailed. But he had seen Q grow up in the ominous shade of the
late High Priest, observed how his intelligence and creativity had blossomed
under the care of different and excellent tutors: he felt somewhat paternal
towards the child he had often babysat, trying to wrestle a rare laugh out of
him.
Q didn't even glance at the small bowl of fruit salad that had been delivered
to him for breakfast "Give it to some starving soul" Without a farewell, he
walked out of his apartments and confidently made his way towards the small and
unadorned chapel he had always preferred for his private prayers; those halls
he knew as well as the back of his own hands, even in the darkest hour of night
his steps wouldn't waver with doubt and he would reach his destination as
quickly as if he had been walking with a map in his hands.
The chapel was blissfully empty. Its decor consisted only of a handful of old
wooden chairs covered with splinters, a small and rickety altar that looked
ready to collapse under the weight of long-forgotten offerings and a washed out
thin rug - it would have seemed a squalid place if not for the sunlight
streaming in from a large window, its honey hues making the place look homely
instead of abandoned to the termites. As a child he had cherished that barren
place, revelling in its safety: nobody ever thought of looking for him in such
a desolate and unknown part of the Temple.
Q kneeled in front of the altar and let the cape pool on the dusty floor,
revelling in the waves of calmness washing upon his frazzled nerves, as it
happened every time he let go of the cruel thoughts in his mind and focused on
the soothing prayers he had known since he had been able to speak. Despite the
horrible memories that had become entwined with the religious rituals he was so
fond of, Q's mind had never stopped finding comfort in the Eternal - even if It
hadn't done a thing to save him from the monster posing as Its vessel.
Keeping his eyes fixed on the bright sunrays that transformed the grains of
dust into a glimmering cloud of diamonds, Q let the familiar words flow through
his brain and numb his synapses, a fleeting and relaxed smile appearing on his
face.
===============================================================================
"The Eternal doesn't perceive Good and Evil as we do; removed from this
reality, It doesn't concern Itself with our faulty perceptions" the High Priest
let his voice ring in the attentive silence echoing in the Temple "Famine.
Poverty. Abuse. War. Pain. Horror. Misery. Violence. All the darkest
occurrences that come to your mind - nothing matters"
At the corner of his right eye, the High Priest saw the King smirk at his dark
and depressing speech, sharing his derision with the blonde man at his side -
that Alec Trevelyan who seemed to be more than the head of the King's security
detail, if the way the two interacted was anything to go by.
The High Priest ignored them, even as in his mind he muttered a prayer for the
infidels "The Eternal waits for Judgement, that glorious time when we will be
bare in front of It, our faults and merits, and know whether we'll be granted
to contemplate Eternity" Q knew people where comforted by the possibility of
their pained existences being rewarded with a second life after their passing,
free of all the horrors the Eternal hadn't seen fit to remove while they were
alive; in the same way, Q was aware that the Eternal's lack of intervention was
what kept the infidels from finding the Path and believing - an understandable
reaction; the role of High Priest wouldn't have existed if there hadn't been
the need of a vessel to show the way towards the Path, casting light over the
murky shadows of the human mind.
The final sentences of his preaching flowed out of his mouth almost
absentmindedly, loosing himself in his own musings, and he was startled by the
presence of another body at his back as he tidied up the altar.
"Don't you believe in Evil, your Grace?" The King's voice was a liquid baritone
against the shell of Q's rapidly reddening ear.
Q didn't spin on his heels to face the King, wanting to avoid giving him the
impression such physical closeness was accepted and encouraged "Not in the
human definition of Evil, your Highness" he answered as plainly as possible,
subtly shifting away from the other's body under the guise of reaching for the
thurible smoking at the far corner of the altar.
The King put a couple of steps in between them, letting coolness replace the
warmth of his body "What is it Its definition of Evil, then? Does the Eternal
frown upon coldblooded murder?"
"Are you asking for thirst of knowledge or in the vain attempt at slandering my
faith, your Highness?"
James smiled at the haughty tone leaving the High Priest's golden lips
"Apologies, your Grace" he conceded the point: he had wanted to rile up the
High Priest, push him in a corner from which he wouldn't have been able to deny
the inaccuracies in his religion "I was sent to offer the services of my
personal physician: I've heard you're a victim of your own mind during the
night"
Q's shoulder visibly tensed under the plain ivory robe billowing around his
thin body "I don't know how would you happen to know, your Highness, but I
decline your generous offer"
"Servants talk" the King tersely offered as an explanation "Miss Moneypenny is
well versed at taking care of haunted sleep, your Grace: I too wander in the
dark when I'm trying to rest"
The High Priest sighed and turned towards the King, crossing his arms on his
sternum "I'm glad Miss Moneypenny is able to grant you your rest, your
Highness, but I'm not in need of her services"
"Are your dreams visions from the Eternal you're obliged to endure or do you
just enjoy punishing yourself without reason?" James was fascinated by the
workings of the young man's mind and peered deeper into those jade-green eyes
to search the sparkling of Vesper's annoyance that he could see etched on the
High Priest's features.
Q didn't know how to answer that mocking inquiry, except that none of the
sentences were true: he hadn't the gift of channelling the Eternal's vision and
he didn't enjoy punishment - not after a childhood shaped by castigation "I
simply avoid making use of medication if I can help it"
"Herbal teas and meditation are hardly drugs"
The High Priest cocked his head to the side in disbelief "You don't strike me
as the meditative type, your Highness"
"Indeed. Poor Miss Moneypenny found out rather quickly that my disposition
doesn't agree with certain treatments" James took a hand out of his pocket and
offered the High Priest a fragrant pouch "Though, this blend of chamomile,
orange blossoms and lavender helps"
Q took the offering without touching the hand it was resting on and sniffed it
suspiciously, resembling a skittish cat that regarded his surroundings in
constant distrust; the scents mingled pleasantly together, tickling his
nostrils and clouding his mind "Thank you, your Highness"
"Call me James, please"
Q glanced up to read the face of the King "That's not exactly proper" he
pointed out, still half-hunched over the pouch.
James smiled "I'll call you Q"
"Not in public" Q immediately lashed out, innerly heating at the idea of
someone who wasn't Bill calling him by his given name.
With its glow, satisfaction suited the King's features "Deal. Have a good night
Q"
"You too, James"
Chapter End Notes
     Ugh, so many flowers in this one lol
     Lichens stand for solitude; dead leaves mean sadness; withered roses
     stand for "Death is preferable to loss of virtue"; plumblossoms stand
     for fidelity and a reminder for one to keep their promises;
     quinceblossoms symbolise temptation; yellow tulips are the symbol for
     a hopeless and perfect love and mean "there's sunshine in your
     smile"; tamarisk stand for crime; nightshades represent dark
     thoughts.
***** 4 *****
Chapter Summary
     The assembly dismembered, its members slinking in the gathering
     darkness as the last sunrays burned out and left behind only
     emptiness, no clue whatsoever they had stood on that slice of dusty
     pavement.
Chapter Notes
     As usual, the lovely @fellowshipofthegay beta'd this chapter; I
     expanded it a bit after she looked over it so, if you find any
     mistakes, feel free to point them out ♥
See the end of the chapter for more notes
                                       4
"He's dangerous" An oily voice rolled sweetly in the orange and violet hued
evening, getting lost in the rustling wind that ruffled the few wispy clouds
scattered in the sky "He doesn't seem much - a weak boy trembling in his
father's far too large clothes, wielding the greatest power of influence known
in the Empire"
The analytical words were received by a meagre and eerily quiet audience: an
handful of hooded figures that tried to look inconspicuous in the dense dusk of
a secluded corner, plotting against the Cult in the shadow of the Temple. They
listened in perfect silence - a silence so thick and chocking that not even a
breath could be heard rattling in their lungs and for all intent and purposes
their only function seemed to be that of mere receivers of those words, just
ears awaiting for that voice to pour in and spark life in those empty minds.
"The King too must think the young High Priest remarkable: have you seen the
way he stood close to him, attempting his lurid seduction right behind the
sacred altar?" the voice mused loudly, a lightness to it that suggested
amusement "We'll let the King do half of the work for us, getting intimate with
the beautiful boy. When the time will come, we'll bring the Cult and the Empire
down together in just one swift movement" the voice stated firmly, a strength
in its inflection that shrouded the vision it was painting in realness.
The assembly dismembered, its members slinking in the gathering darkness as the
last sunrays burned out and left behind only emptiness, no clue whatsoever they
had stood on that slice of dusty pavement.
===============================================================================
Alec sat next to James and watched with him the sun flare out of existence for
another day; it strangely felt like a deja-vu, which actually was logical if he
thought about all those times they had sat in that same spot as children and
giggled at some funny reprimand Mallory had sprouted that day "You're restless"
he observed.
James shrugged and kept his eyes on the horizon even as sunlight completely
disappeared and let a clear darkness dotted with pale stars spread in the sky
in the same manner a drop of ink would pollute a glass of water "I am" he
conceded: because of being raised together since the tenderest age, brothers in
every way that counted but blood, he had never been able to hide from Alec his
moods "The quietness from the rebels disturbs me" James admitted in a heaving
sigh that clouded white in the cold air.
"Only you would be disturbed by a moment of peace, my friend" Alec teased
lightly, clapping James on a shoulder "Make me see what's worrying you"
Since Alec was giving him his full attention without making fun of his gut
feeling, James turned towards his friend to face him "Not a day has passed that
we haven't been attacked by the rebels. Then the High Priest made the Empire a
favour and died and since then they haven't resurfaced"
Alec blinked slowly "You're not theorising that the new High Priest has
something to do with it, are you?" He too had never been fond of the Cult - the
way the priests were able to manipulate millions of people into believing into
a god that blatantly disregarded their pain made Alec shiver in fear and
disgust - but he wasn't as ready as James to point an accusing finger in that
direction.
James shook his head "No, the Cult is our ally in this predicament. Have you
seen how many guards are swarming the Temple these days?" Even during great
celebrations such as the funeral of the High Priest and the presentation of his
successor, not many military people had been admitted to the Temple: the
priests of the Cult were jealous of their secrets in the same way hoarding
dragons were protective of their treasures "There were a dozen in Q's private
chambers"
"Q's?" Alec asked, confused by the unfamiliar name so easily leaving the King's
lips "Oh, the High Priest! Fuck James, why are you calling him by his name?
Didn't Mallory tell you to leave the boy alone?" The guard glared darkly,
making it clear he was expecting an answer to his inquiries.
"I got his permission" James replied defensively "Calling him your Grace at the
end of every sentence was getting annoying" And he had needed a name before
slipping up and calling the damn boy Vesper. The sadness simmering gently in
Q's absinth coloured irises was the same that had twisted Vesper's tender
smiles, both of them haunted by a past shrouded in darkness and unable to
escape from it even when standing in the sun; it painted them in an aura of
desperate and otherworldly beauty, the taint of unspeakable horrors making them
look more human and appealing - James found himself drawn like a moth to the
fire, bewitched by the strange taste of unending anguish.
Once Vesper had told him it was a deep-rooted monster, that melancholy showing
through her eyes sometimes and that made her serenade the moon with the saddest
ballads ever written. James wondered about what Q did to fight the ravenous
emptiness in his chest, whether he stared at the ceiling or disappeared in the
labyrinth of the Temple to chant his prayers to the Eternal.
"James, he's the High Priest" Alec interrupted the King from his inner musings,
concerned by the captivated expression etched on his features. The last time
James had looked so enthralled by a human being, he had ended up in love with a
member of the rebellion disguised as a courteous and lovely woman: Vesper had
fooled them all with her inborn grace and soft-spoken manners "He's bound to
the Eternal" Just like Vesper had been bound to the ideal of taking over the
government, forever change the natural order of the world.
James shrugged, his disregard for the god so many of his people believed in as
clear as day "Did you hear him? He was groomed since childhood to give his life
away" It haunted him, the helplessness in Q's voice as he had told them he had
been raised in the creepy silence of the Temple: what had happened to his
family for him to be left alone in the claws of the Cult? Clearly Q had had no
choice about becoming a part of it; his brainwashing had begun early and his
mind had always been filled with prayers to the Eternal instead of mindless
nursery rhymes.
"As you were" Alec pointed out rather rationally "Just.. Be careful, please"
===============================================================================
Vesper's grave was tucked in a wild corner of the Palace's gardens, forgotten
by everyone but James: mould had grown on the ivory tombstone on which her name
had been etched, her life reduced to meaningless numbers arranged into a couple
of dates; they did nothing to describe the amazing complexities and
juxtapositions that had made her such a bewitching human being, capable to
ensnare even the most fleeting hearts in her graceful and cruel hands - the
perfect agent to send undercover.
He gingerly sat on the humid grass, sparing a thought for his pristine trousers
"He looks like you - almost a twin" he started, pausing a few seconds during
which he imagined Vesper rolling her eyes at him, mockingly annoyed at his
paranoid character "I'm not exaggerating! He even has the potential of being as
annoying and ridiculously sassy as you"
Despite the strange quirk of no touching - he had noticed that even the other
priest in the room had kept a comforting distance from the High Priest - and
the way he rarely looked directly at him, as if the sight of his face
physically hurt him, the High Priest had seemed strong-willed and clever.
Q was different, a new challenging riddle to be solved - and to do it, he
needed to grow closer to the High Priest, gain his confidence and dive in the
depths of his soul, hoping to not get tangled in the languid tentacles of
darkness trapped down there, patiently waiting for their prey "I won't fall for
him" James muttered, half to himself and half to Vesper's abandoned grave.
He had said the same to Alec when he first had seen Vesper laughing in the mid
of the ballroom, everyone's heads turned around to listen to the gentle
tinkling of her laughter; she had looked like a goddess with pale pink clematis
blossoms braided in her black locks and a startlingly white dress that tinted
her skin of a creamy light pink "He's paler than you were, as if he never
wanders out in the sun" James refused to believe Q prayed all-day every day,
ensconced in the eerily quietness of the almost deserted Temple.
The King huffed, and shifted on the already crumpled grass; talking to Vesper
hadn't brought him the comfort he had hoped to receive - the tombstone was an
impenetrable wall of emptiness and silence "Well, goodbye Vesper" he awkwardly
said his farewell, icy-blue irises skittering away from the grave: he couldn't
bear anymore to look at the sad place where Vesper was resting - not then when
the only image he could see was her red dress blooming in the frigid and murky
waters in which she had drowned.
With quick and efficient strides, James disappeared into the Palace, leaving
out in the cold his doubts and grief.
 
 
Chapter End Notes
     Clematis blossoms generally mean mental beauty and cleverness; often,
     they're used to point out artifice and dishonesty.
***** 5 *****
Chapter Summary
     "It's growing cold" Alec acknowledged "You're too thin and lightly
     dressed for this weather" he commented, pointedly glancing at the
     garments pretending to sheath the younger man against the embittering
     cold.
Chapter Notes
     @fellowshipofthegay is the fasted beta ever and I'm so grateful for
     her support and suggestions (and I love her so much, in case it
     wasn't obvious lol)
     Thank you to all the readers who dropped by to comment, leave kudos
     or bookmark this story! ♥
                                       5
A startled laugh escaped Q's throat, clinking like glass in the crystalline
air; surprised by the melodious and cheery sound he had produced, Q
dramatically widened his eyes and covered his mouth with an hand in a late
attempt at muffling the voice that had already left it "I apologise for my
outburst" he asked for forgiveness, lowering his lashes to hide the
embarrassment shining in his irises.
That light made Q look human - even under the layers of makeup painted on his
features, he finally seemed rid of the perpetual aura of coldness and sadness
making him look older than his years. Bill couldn't remember the last time he
had seen Q act so carefree and serene; he hoped that, with the death of his
tormentor, the young man would bloom as the heavy cloud of constant fear of
abuse dispersed from above his head "You don't need to apologise" he remarked,
smiling softly "I've heard that laughing is good for health"
"You should have been a physician, my friend: you clearly missed your true
calling" Q teased while turning his face towards the sun, soaking up the warmth
of its rays: it had been a while since the last time he had been able to go out
of the Temple and enjoy the fresh air smelling of humid earth, grass and
flowers - it had been a while since he had been free to do as he pleased; the
late High Priest had kept him a prisoner in the Temple, the mere idea of
someone watching him and appreciating his looks had made him bitter with
irrational jealousy. The few times Q had managed to escape his confinement, it
had been because the High Priest had entrusted him to Bill's care, who firmly
believed nobody could survive without breathing some fresh air once in a while
"It's weird, not smelling any incense" Q wrinkled his nose, trying to
understand whether he was unsettled or not by the absence of the spicy scents
he was so used to.
"Air is not supposed to smell of incense" Bill chuckled as a strange mixture of
sadness and joy clutched at his lungs: Q had been brought up so abnormally - a
prisoner in his own home - that even smelling fresh air posed as novelty to
him.
Q shrugged and peered at the guards watching upon them from a distance in the
illusory attempt at giving them some kind of privacy "Do you think they would
mind, if I asked them to borrow a horse?" he asked, nodding towards the
beautiful stallions pacifically trotting on the slick grass under the attentive
gazes of their owners.
"Do you even know how to ride a horse?" Was the obvious question Bill asked,
arching an eyebrow in disbelief.
"I believe I do - I'm not sure" Q vaguely remembered riding with some faceless
male - his father, he supposed - and snuggling up a muscled and solid chest
while he was taught how to hold the reins; he couldn't exactly remember ever
riding a horse alone but if he closed his eyes and focused, he could recall the
freeing feeling of becoming one with those beautiful animals.
Bill frowned "They wouldn't deny you anything" he exhaled cautiously.
The younger man nodded pensively before letting a smile break the tight line of
his closed lips and briskly striding towards the guards, trying not to break
character with his excitement: after all, he still was the High Priest and a
certain level of composure was expected out of him. The nearer he got to the
military men, the blanker he let his face become - only a spectre of
pleasantness lingering at the vaguely upturned corners of his mouth - and he
exercised more control over his limbs, orchestrating every movement into a
subtly graceful and imposing dance "May I bother you asking to borrow one of
your horses?" he inquired with a voice that hinted he wasn't expecting a
negative answer.
The guards looked at him with a strange mix of respect and perplexity, as if
silently inquiring about whether the High Priest was able to keep a pair of
reins in his hands. It was a middle aged man who nodded at Q and walked towards
the High Priest his black stallion, a massive beast that smoothly prowled over
the ground while regarding curiously the human on its path "Do you need any
help mounting up, your Grace?"
Q shook his head while he reverently stroked the shiny and soft mane of the
horse, trying to establish a connection with it "Such a beautiful animal" he
complimented in a soft voice, wanting to avoid startling the horse.
"Plutone is pretty calm, your Grace. He won't unseat you, if you're a firm but
gentle conductor" the guard advised him, affectionately patting the muscled
flank of his horse.
Q nodded his understanding and mounted the stallion with a graceful jump, his
muscle memory kicking in to aid him into seating correctly. A exhilarated
breath left him in a huff, the feeling of powerful muscles between his thighs
making him feel larger than life, freer than ever "Such a good boy" Q cooed at
the horse, smiling happily.
"You're a natural, your Grace" the guard complimented, clearly surprised by the
fluidity with which the somehow frigid High Priest had seated himself upon the
stallion.
Q could barely contain the laugh bubbling in his lungs and spurred the horse
into a relaxed gallop, riding towards Bill who was watching him with amazement
etched on his features "Look Bill!" he shrieked like an excited child, giggling
happily as he felt the wind brush his wild hair and made his eyes water with
its cold stinging "I told you I remembered riding a horse!"
Bill laughed "So you did, Q!"
Q rode away from his friend, eyes fixed on the burning horizon; in winter, the
sun seemed to shine brighter than usual, setting everything on a glorious fire.
He felt happy and boundless, one being with the horse galloping beneath him:
Q's outlines had faded and blurred with the landscape, the cane of flesh of his
body finally melting away and leaving his bones bare to the elements, vibrating
with the unexpected freedom.
Q was so lost in the hurricane of sensations that he was startled by the rider
approaching him, making the black stallion jumpy with nerves; he gently tugged
at the reins, making sure of not hurting its mouth, while he turned his head to
face the person interrupting his ride "Mr Trevelyan"
Alec smirked his greetings at the High Priest, slowly nearing the younger man
and his steed "Good afternoon, your Grace. I'm glad to see you're enjoying the
good weather too, his Highness was afraid you spent all of your time ensconced
in the Temple"
"Do you talk about me a lot?" Q asked cheekily, steering the horse next to the
King's head of security "I'm honoured" he kept joking, innerly wondering about
whether the fresh air hadn't gone to his head and made him forget property.
Alec curiously regarded the way the High Priest sat on the back of the horse,
looking relaxed and perfectly in control as if he had spent his whole life
riding "I'm afraid we're terrible chatterboxes" His voice was as unapologetic
as his smile was wolfish "We can't help chatting about the new big fish in the
pond"
Q perplexedly arched an eyebrow at the horrible metaphor "I'm not that
interesting" he attempted at downplaying his own importance; he was well-aware
of being a potential threat at the King's authority with the influence he had
over the faithful masses.
"That's what you would like people to think, your Grace" Alec pointed out with
a grin, closely observing the High Priest to gauge his reactions;
disappointment settled deep in his stomach as he could only witness the polite
mask of the cleric in place over those sharp and somewhat boyish features
"You're well-aware of the power you wield"
"You're more than mere brawn" Q voiced his opinion, an enigmatic smile playing
in his irises.
"I was raised together with James: I could be King if I had the right blood
rushing through my veins and cared more about politics rather than weaponry"
The blonde shrugged as if he didn't care much about what he had just revealed -
and he truly didn't: Alec was faithful to James, not to the Empire; without his
adoptive brother sitting on the throne, he wouldn't have cared much about
protecting the King and would have probably sold his services to the highest
bidder.
"It must have been nice, sharing your childhood with someone" Q knew that not
being alone in the Temple would have helped him to grow into a warmer and less
damaged man.
"It was" Alec conceded with an honest smile "We drove Mallory insane but it
definitely was worth it"
Silence fell between them, a veiled quietness that settled on their bodies like
the cold humidity weighing heavily in the air.
Q shuddered and hugged his cloak closer to his lithe frame, burying his chin in
the soft furry inner lining while soaking up the warmth of the stallion growing
restless with inactivity; he soothingly raked his fingers through the thick
mane, enjoying its silky texture under his digits "I should get him back to his
rightful owner"
"It's growing cold" Alec acknowledged "You're too thin and lightly dressed for
this weather" he commented, pointedly glancing at the garments pretending to
sheath the younger man against the embittering cold.
Q sighed and breathed in deeply the shimmering air, eyelids half-closed against
the bright sunlight turning the minuscule droplets of water trapped in the
atmosphere into a faded rainbow; he immersed himself in nature with the same
desperation he had felt as a child, when an afternoon with Bill was ending and
he knew he wouldn't get out of the Temple soon again "It was a pleasure, Mr
Trevelyan. May the Eternal keep you safe until you're in your home" he blessed
before riding back to his party - trying to ignore the feeling of invisible
jaws closing over him, metaphorically imprisoning him again in the Temple; Q
didn't wait for the other man to answer in kind, guessing that the infidel
probably didn't know which parting words he should have uttered.
Alec silently watched the High Priest elegantly trot away.
===============================================================================
"Such a beautiful boy" the oily voice slithered out of a distorted mouth in a
disturbing hiss, resonating against an unnaturally hollowed cheek "I can see
why the late High Priest wanted to keep Q all to himself: such a youth is not
for everyone's eyes to feast upon"
A dark eye surrounded by molten and drooping flesh hungrily followed the
willowy figure riding towards the guards carefully watching upon him, wary of
any threat that may approach the High Priest. That protective attitude prompted
an awful laugh, well-paired with its owner's ruined face; the man couldn't
believe how blind everyone was when it came to the High Priest: it was as clear
as day that the boy had a resilient mind, strengthened by decades of abuse that
had attempted at breaking him and turn him into an hollowed shell the Cult
could have exploited as it pleased.
"He could be useful" the voice mused, implying that weaponizing the crime
inflicted upon the High Priest might have been a way to turn him towards the
rebellion.
The disfigured shadow smiled thinly and disappeared, satisfied with the
information collected that day.
 
***** 6 *****
Chapter Summary
     "What do you think you're doing, Q?!" Bill shouted at the High
     Priest's head crowned with golden ribbons and orange nasturtiums
     "Talking some sense into them won't work!"
Chapter Notes
     @fellowshipofthegay is the best beta ever and I love her so much ♥
See the end of the chapter for more notes
                                       6
When the attack came, nobody but the King was expecting it: the merchants were
loudly trying to sell their goods; children were running around or listening to
their tutors' lessons; the scents of cooking lunches were just starting to
slowly tickle the noses and the stomachs of people, subtly reminding everyone
it was time for another meal; the soldiers leisurely strolled in the crowd,
keeping the masses in order with just their reassuring presence; the priests of
the Cult went around hollering prayers and questing for offerings; the poor
flocked to the Temple and waited on its steps for their turn to be given some
food while the High Priest distantly smiled down at them and preached about
life after Judgement and Bill unobtrusively made sure nobody tried to touch
him; Gareth Mallory was checking the latest entries in the accounting books in
the warmth of his office before presenting them to the King and asking for his
signature; Alec Trevelyan and Eve Moneypenny were amicably sparring in the
training grounds, laughing merrily at each other's pained groans - it was an
ordinary day, boring and comforting at the same time in its predictable
routine.
James was patrolling the roof of the Palace along with his soldiers, unable to
shrug off the itching of suspicion from under his skin. His keen icy-blue eyes
saw far and they zeroed in on the most miniscule details seemingly out of
place, his fingers ready to flash at his belt and draw his flintlock pistol and
his sword in order to deal with the threat - it wasn't surprising he was the
first one to spot the hooded figures stealthily slipping into the crowd,
resembling tendrils of ink slowly staining a glass of clear water.
Just a fraction of a minute later, when his mouth had just opened to let a
warning shout out, also his guards had spotted the rebels and one of them
loudly gave the alarm, so that people knew they needed to get somewhere safe
and out of the soldiers' way.
Those who were patrolling the streets had some difficulties dealing with the
panicking crowd and James swore when he heard the first shot ring in the air
amidst crying screams "Half a dozen of you come down with me, while those
staying make the rebels feel the iron of your arrowheads" he ordered, already
disappearing in the Palace in search of Alec, knowing that his friend would
have already organised the soldiers to go out and fight against the rebels.
He spared only a fleeting thought towards the High Priest, hoping he had
disappeared in the impenetrable safety of the Temple with as many people as
possible.
===============================================================================
 
Having grown up knowing little else but the dusty labyrinth of the Temple and
the constant alarms shrieking whenever the rebels attacked, Q's mind
immediately snapped to attention when the signal of warning resonated from the
Palace and was quick to order people into the Temple, rising his voice in an
authoritative rumbling to be heard above the panic rapidly clouding everyone's
minds and making them act like terrified pigs going to a slaughterhouse "Bill,
make sure they don't hurt each other in there!" Q commanded, knowing that a
great amass of frightened people enclosed in a relatively small and unfamiliar
room was a delicate situation "Distract them with sermons" he offered as a last
advice before running down the steps of the Temple.
"What do you think you're doing, Q?!" Bill shouted at the High Priest's head
crowned with golden ribbons and orange nasturtiums "Talking some sense into
them won't work!"
Q ignored his friend pleading for him to go back to safety and slipped in the
crowd to help the soldiers direct people towards other safe havens, innerly
cringing at the horrible feeling of strangers rubbing against his robes - too
close to his skin.
"Your Grace, you need to get into the Temple" a guard hurriedly spat out, his
hands clearly itching with the need to throw him towards the right direction.
"I have to help: people listen to me" Q retorted, glaring up at the guard "Give
me a weapon to defend myself" He imperiously outstretched his hand, clearly
waiting for a pistol or a dagger to be placed in his palm.
"Your Grace..."
"I assure you, I can use a weapon without harming myself" Q interrupted the
guard before he could further protest, focusing all the eerily strength in his
absinth eyes on him - he was immediately handed a stiletto as the cruel noises
of shooting and pained cries shattered against his eardrums, urging him to be
quicker and bring more people to safety.
Q shouted at his priests to gather up children and the fallen bodies, glaring
at them to get across the point he wouldn't condone any of them leaving hurt
and defenceless people behind.
A sword flashed close to his face and Q hurriedly ducked out of its reach, eyes
swivelling around in search of the rebel who had attempted to behead him "To
your right, your Grace!"
Instinctively, Q followed the advice and turned sharply on his right with the
stiletto already balanced between his fingers and pointed in the direction
towards he which expected to find his opponent's throat, mentally calculating
the strength with which he should have thrown the dagger to cut through layers
of flesh and muscle. An arrow flying from behind him embedded itself in the
hooded figure that had been threatening him "Thanks" Q threw over his shoulder
at the dark skinned woman holding a bow in her delicate hands.
"For the Eternal's sake, what are you doing outside of the Temple your Grace?"
the woman swore, frowning as darkly as an approaching tempest and trying to
focus on the High Priest and the rebels at the same time.
Q muttered a quick prayer to plead the Eternal to ignore the improper use that
had just been made of Its sacred name "I'm trying to help, instead of cowering
in a corner" he snapped before throwing his stiletto at the rebel that had been
trying to approach the woman from behind "You're welcome Ms..?"
"Moneypenny. I believe you refused my medical help at some point" she grinned
while handing the High Priest a flintlock pistol "Are you as good at firing
this as you are at throwing knives, your Grace?"
===============================================================================
 
Alec gripped James to hold him still for the necessary length of a minute to
ascertain his brother had armed himself properly and donned some kind of
protection: when determined on destroying a threat, James could be incredibly
single-minded and stupidly risk his life "Try to avoid disappearing from my
sight"
"Please, James" Mallory pleaded along Alec while still checking whether his
pistol was ready to fire "You're the bloody King: they want you dead - don't
offer yourself on a silver tray"
James huffed and shrugged Alec's hands away, craving to get out of the Palace
and help his people in the time of need "They won't get to me" he growled, as
threatening as a wild wolf scenting blood.
The acrid smell of smoke cut off any retort Alec and Mallory may have had and
hurriedly ushered the King and his soldiers outside, where they were welcomed
by yellowish flames licking at the market stands and the people who hadn't been
quick enough to get out of the fire range.
"Those bastards!" Alec spat out, his eyes searching for the hooded figures that
were almost impossible to spot amidst the soot and smoke plummeting in the air,
settling placidly like fog and dulling the edges of reality.
Orders for water to be gathered to put off the fire were issued while they
helped people to safety and tried to save the unfortunate souls burning alive,
their bloodcurdling screams mixing with the spitting hissing of the fire
devouring everything.
"Your Highness!" James turned on his heels to regard Eve Moneypenny,
concernedly glancing at the streak of blood splashed against her right temple
and dripping into her eye "The High Priest is somewhere in there!" She
gesticulated towards the middle of the market, where there was more for the
blaze to consume in its unforgiving blistering jaws.
"What?!" James squinted to better see whether amidst the flames he could spot a
willowy silhouette clad in white.
"He wanted to help and he could fire a gun: I made him promise he would stray
from me but..." Eve let the sentence die on her tongue, looking at her
sovereign with chocolaty eyes filled with helplessness.
"Help the others to put out the fire" James ordered, comfortingly clapping her
on a shoulder "I'll try to retrieve the High Priest" Before she could protest,
James sprinted towards the direction Eve had indicated him, carefully dodging
the flaming ruins tumbling to the burnt ground. The air he inhaled scorched his
nostrils and throat, simmering in his lungs and prompting a rather nasty bout
of coughing; James wondered about how the seemingly physically frail High
Priest could have survived that raging inferno.
A distant pained wail made James' ears perk up on attention but he didn't
recognise the timbre as that of Q's. He kept searching amidst the ruins,
calling the other's name in the vain hope Q would be conscious to answer him.
He was losing hope, fingers scorched by scalding embers and breathing laboured,
when he spotted a spoiled flower amidst the soot - one of the nasturtiums he
had noticed nestled amidst Q's unruly black curls; a few steps further, James
saw the High Priest sprawled on the ground, his pristine robe spotted with
greyish ashes and blood and a child cradled in his arms "Q"
Q looked upwards, absentmindedly hugging the little boy closer to his heaving
chest in an instinctive protective stance, despite the itching another's touch
he couldn't get rid of "Your Highness" An exhaustedly relieved smile blossomed
on his mouth smudged with rouge, looking thinner than usual.
James bent down to help the both of them up, aiming at putting his hands under
Q's armpits; however, the younger man squirmed away from him and put the child
in his arms in order to slowly get on his feet on his own "Any burns? Broken
bones?" he inquired while checking the child who fitfully slept behind the
strip of cloth Q had tied around his small face, preventing him from inhaling
too much smoke and ashes - James wondered why the High Priest hadn't done the
same to himself to preserve his own health and scowled darkly.
Q shook his head "I'm fine" he coughed, a hand immediately flying to cover his
mouth "Just get me out of here"
"Come on" James reached with a hand towards Q, hoping he would take the offered
help. The High Priest dismissed it with an impertinent smile and stepped next
to the King, walking at his side and surprisingly matching James' broad and
hurried strides while shushing the little boy whenever he threatened starting
to cry, pacifying his fussing with the calm and tender intonation of his voice
roughened by smoke inhalation.
As soon as they escaped the blaze, fresh oxygen made Q and the child cough
painfully while they were surrounded by physicians trying to ascertain whether
they were in good health or not; Eve took in her arms the child to visit him
while Alec thoughtfully draped his cloak over the High Priest's shoulders,
hiding from the bystanders hid tattered clothes "You're so irresponsible - both
of you" he scolded, glaring at James "You promised me you wouldn't do anything
stupid"
"Well, someone had to save his Grace!" the King spat out "What were you doing
outside of the Temple?"
Q watched the two men argue with wide eyes, paralysed by a fear deep-rooted in
his twisted childhood, and coughed for a long minute before answering the
King's irate inquiry "I was needed" He shrugged "Besides, I can defend myself"
he added, nodding at Eve as if to ask for her confirmation.
Mallory politely cleared his throat, attracting everyone's attention "There's
no use in fighting now, the most important thing is that you're both safe" he
pointed out "Please, your Grace, be a guest in the Palace until the fire has
been put out and you have restored yourself"
"A messenger will be sent to the Temple to reassure everyone of your safety"
James added, before Q could voice the worry clearly etched on his tired
features.
The High Priest cocked his head in acceptance, an orange petal falling from his
untidy hair "Very well"
===============================================================================
Q refused the help of the servants that had been sent to him to help with
bathing and changing clothes, reassuring them he always preferred conducting
his ablutions alone. They left only after he allowed them to draw his bath - an
obscene concoction of hot water, lavender oil and refreshing salts - and
arrange the comfortable and warm robe the King had found for him.
Q immersed himself and vigorously scrubbed at his skin, removing soot and
chalk; the mere idea of standing in front of everyone without the flimsy armour
of his makeup on made him feel naked and exposed, but Q understood that
stubbornly staying in his rooms would have been terribly impolite and
disrespectful - though, his reflection looked so frail with the hair plastered
around his unadorned face and dripping on the admiral-blue robe, a couple of
sizes bigger on his sharp edged body.
A knock resonated just as he had started towelling his curls dry "A minute,
please! " he shouted, scowling at the way his hair was fluffed up around his
head. Deeming it a lost cause, he strode to the door and opened it "Your
Highness" he greeted, feeling a blush blossom on his cheekbones as he took in
the properly attired King.
The sight of the dishevelled High Priest, usually so prim and proper, made
James smirk delightedly "Q, that colour suits you" he complimented; with his
uncanny resemblance to Vesper, James had known Q would have looked stunning
with such a deep and rich colour to contrast the paleness of his complexion and
set off the green in his irises - plus, it highlighted the blush staining those
cheeks.
"I find it makes me look like a spectre, but thank you" Q avoided looking in
the King's icy-blue irises and kept his gaze focused on the arabesques painted
on the wall while crossing his arms in front of his chest, fingers subtly
rubbing his muscles aching from the strain of wielding weapons after a long
time "Please, come in" he invited after an embarrassingly long silence, tucking
himself to the side so that the King could enter without accidentally brushing
against him.
James sat on the only stuffed chair in the room and grabbed the sad remains of
the flowercrown that had been abandoned on the small table "My mother braided
nasturtiums in her hair whenever my father came back from war"
Q closed the door and took a seat on the edge of his bed, facing the King "They
surely have followed the Path to the Eternal" he offered as consolation.
James shrugged, not caring much about the religious words "It was a long time
ago" Which didn't mean he still didn't miss them, but the grief had lost its
cutting edge and he could remember his parents fondly "I hope you've not
discovered any injuries"
"Just a couple of bruises, nothing that won't fade" Q reassured him "How's
Basil?"
"Oh, the child? He's quite fine and attached himself to Alec's hip" James
grinned, remembering how the little boy had immediately taken to his friend and
started pestering him about weapons and wars and horses, barely shutting up
even while gulping down the milk Eve had forced on him "I came here to talk
about him, to be honest"
"He's an orphan, I imagine" Q sighed; he had found Basil resigned to his fate,
as if he had known nobody would have come to look for him - an attitude only
someone without family would have "I'll try to search for a family willing to
take him in, or I'll be forced to place him in an orphanage" As those words
left his mouth, a bitter frown distorted his features.
"Couldn't you raise him in the Temple?" James inquired, recalling that the High
Priest himself had grown up in the Temple; it wasn't an ideal environment where
to spend one's childhood, but it surely was better than an orphanage.
A shiver shook Q's spine and his mind rebelled at the idea of another child
imprisoned in the Temple "Believe me, your Highness, I would have preferred
being abandoned in an orphanage rather than in the Temple" he admitted.
James, who had presumed Q to be an orphan, innerly cringed at his faux pas and
vividly imagined the scolding Mallory would have whipped out "I'm sorry"
"I don't even remember my parents" Q reassured, squashing the loneliness and
hate festering deep in his soul.
"The boy could stay here, I suppose" James said after a few minutes spent in
morose silence "It's not as if I lack the means to support him"
Q smiled sweetly "He grew on you" he teased lightly.
"Just like you did, Q"
Chapter End Notes
     Nasturtiums mean conquest, victory in battle.
     The name Basil has a Greek origin and means king.
     If you want to chat I'm also sunaddicted both on tumblr and LJ: I
     love talking to people so, feel free to come and say hi!
***** 7 *****
Chapter Summary
     James thought he had gone mad as his eyes spotted a raven-haired
     figure haunt the gardens in the golden light of dawn, the robe a
     vivid splotch of blood marring the refreshing beauty of nature -
     blood that he had tasted as he had tried to breathe life into lilac
     lips slicked by glacial water.
Chapter Notes
     I'm sorry it took me so long to update but on Monday I had my last
     exam of the semester and I needed to focus on my studies!
     This chapter is not beta'd because my email is acting up and I didn't
     manage to send it to my lovely wife @fellowshipofthegay -.- I
     apologise for any mistakes and please feel free to point them out to
     me ♥
See the end of the chapter for more notes
                                       7
Q watched how sunlight played on the ceiling, curling around the middle of his
own body underneath the unfamiliar and overwhelmingly soft sheets; he started
mentally praying to the Eternal in a way reminiscent of his childhood, during
which Its vessel had mercilessly driven into him and the High Priest's breath
had puffed against his sharp collarbone, unbearably hot in contrast with his
cold and clammy skin.
A shiver thrummed through Q's body as he heard the High Priest's moaned "My
precious boy" in his ear and he felt invisible hands grip his hips to hitch his
spindly legs over large shoulders, so that the High Priest could drive deeper
into him and deliver his rightful punishment - a ghostly and dull ache burned
his insides, the memory of endless hours of abuse simmering through his veins.
Q closed his eyes and shook his head, chasing away the unwanted images and
sensations. He climbed out of bed with shaking thighs, his muscles still
reeling from the force of the flashback that had possessed him - just because
the way sunlight splattered on the ceiling of the guest room the King had
offered him was familiar to the way sun would shine on the ceiling of his
abuser bedroom.
He escaped the stifling atmosphere after quickly establishing that the crimson
red nightrobe he had slept in wasn't too thin or too creased by his nightmares,
not even stopping to put some slippers on. Q strode through corridors he didn't
know with mounting anxiety, eyes frantically searching for a door that would
open on the beautiful gardens of the Palace and lungs still burning from smoke
inhalation: he needed the fresh air and the scent of humid earth to clear his
mind of the feeling of an older and heavier body blanketing his own - he needed
reality to come and displace the festering shadows of his nightmares.
"Can I help, your Grace?"
Q spun on his heels to face the concerned guard who had offered him assistance,
both looking mildly worried and alert "I.." Q swallowed drily and cleared his
aching throat while he nervously fingered the robe draped over his body,
resolutely avoiding looking down at his naked feet to not attract attention on
them "I was looking for a way to get to the gardens" he admitted.
The guard didn't comment on his garments, hardly appropriate for an early
stroll in the gardens "Would you like me to show you the way, your Grace?"
"If you can be spared from your duties for a couple of minutes, I would
appreciate your help" Q attempted a smile and fell into step with the young
guard when he nodded and started to presumably walk towards the nearest exit -
towards freedom.
===============================================================================
James thought he had gone mad as his eyes spotted a raven-haired figure haunt
the gardens in the golden light of dawn, the robe a vivid splotch of blood
marring the refreshing beauty of nature - blood that he had tasted as he had
tried to breathe life into lilac lips slicked by glacial water.
Kneeling amidst bushes of heliotrope, Q looked as if he was drowning in their
blue petals - just like Vesper had drowned in startlingly blue waters, her
dress blooming like a dark crimson rose underneath the frigid surface of the
lake, her green irises wide-open staring at him as life escaped her in bubbles
of air.
He walked towards him almost absentmindedly, driven by an unknown force that
compelled him to make sure no reanimated corpse was wandering in his gardens
"Why aren't you wearing a cape?" he inquired with an arched eyebrow "Or shoes"
he added as he noticed Q's pale and elegant feet looking whiter against the
fresh green of grass.
Q shrunk away from the unexpected question and whipped his head upwards, messy
curls falling into his eyes, in order to look at the King looming over him, a
great shadow made of rough edges and powerful lines "Your Highness" he
uselessly whispered, blinking at the larger man as if still trying to make
sense of his appearance.
James huffed and deftly got rid of his cloak, bending down to drape it over Q's
frail shoulders, making sure not to touch him; he had always been good at
reading people, understanding them thanks to all the things they said with
their bodies instead of with their voices, and it hadn't been difficult to
deduce that Q abhorred any kind of touching - it was a wish James respected and
understood "You'll catch your death" he reproached without offering his hand to
help him up, despite habit screaming at him to do so.
"Thank you" Q burrowed deeper in the oversized cloak, the strong scent of soap
and sweet wine pleasantly dulling his senses "I should have asked for your
permission before wandering in the gardens" he quietly apologised, getting up
from the ground and subtly brushing grass stains from the robe.
James waved his words away and admired the shade of golden-green the younger
man's irises turned to when bathed by the tender light of a breaking dawn "You
can go wherever you like" he reassured with a smile "Would you mind terribly if
I joined you for your stroll?"
Despite having had the need of solitude after his nightmare, Q found himself
invitingly smiling at the King "Not at all; after all, I know how boring it is
to be a lonely insomniac"
"Truer words have never been spoken, Q" James grinned when a blush exploded on
Q's cheeks after hearing his own name leave someone's lips "So, was it insomnia
or a bad dream?"
"Bad dream" Q replied shrugging, downplaying the terror that had flooded him so
that the King wouldn't ask for further explanations; he was used to being
surrounded by people who were used to his almost nonexistent sleeping schedule
and who knew not to ask about the nightmares that made him scream in the dark
"What about you?"
"Basil couldn't sleep and wanted to see you but you needed your rest so, I let
him climb in my bed" James grimaced, remembering the heart-wrenching sniffles,
coughs and accidental kicks the child had delivered in his fitful sleep; for
being such a small and fragile thing, malnourished and clearly not at the top
of his health, Basil had delivered with quite some strength that had made
James' silently mourn his shins and kneecaps "Let's say I'm not used to dealing
with children"
Q frowned "You should have come to wake me up" He didn't want Basil to think he
had been once again abandoned: he knew all too well how it felt like.
"You inhaled a lot of smoke yesterday: your body needed the rest - I'm
surprised you're still not out of breath" James observed.
Q grimaced, fingers reflexively skittering over his throat as he remembered
what being forced breathless had felt like and shivered "I'm a resilient
creature" he chose to say in the end, hoping it would sound vague enough to the
King and halt his questioning.
James hummed and let silence pour between them, build a thin web connecting
them in the peace of the early morning. The ethereal man walking by his side
with the same innate grace and stealth one would appoint to a cat, was so
deeply engrossed in the blooms in his path that it seemed as if James was alone
- and yet, he could somewhat perceive a gently simmering warmth coming in waves
from the High Priest "You can take any flower you like"
Q flashed the King a smile, digits tenderly ruffling the clusters of baby's
breath "Thank you"
Seeing that the High Priest didn't seem keen on taking up his offer, James
stepped closer while clearing his throat, making sure the other man wouldn't be
startled by his approach "May I?" he asked, nodding towards the clouds of tiny
white flowers "Just the hair" he added quickly, as soon as he spotted something
akin to panic shadow the golden flecks in those green irises.
Q regarded the King quietly, wary of the brute strength those broad hands could
wield; he was well-aware that it didn't mean anything - with his own graceful
fingers he had done some awful things - and the King had never seemed eager to
impose himself and dominate him "Be careful please" Q smiled nervously but
sincerely, conceiving the idea that he hadn't felt obliged by the King's
request to grant his permission.
"I don't know how you can stand the sweetness of fresh wilting flowers
constantly in your nostrils" James observed, his arm sneaking upwards to tug at
the scentless white camellias dangling in the wind, drooping earthward because
of the heaviness of their thick and velvety petals "Don't you get an headache?"
Q shrugged "Not particularly: my nose has been desensitised by incense" He
wrinkled said appendage while keeping track of the other's movements; he
greatly appreciated the deliberate slowness with which the King was
orchestrating his limbs and rewarded him with tilting his head slightly
upwards, making himself vulnerable to his ministrations "Besides, scentless
flowers are kinda fake?"
"So, you don't like camellias" James grinned, haltingly reaching for the High
Priest's rebellious curls to tame them a bit, carding through the silky and
thick waves with gentle and questing fingers before putting the large flower
behind the other's ear; it took what it seemed to be an age since James stopped
moving everytime he noticed a particularly jerky twitch or the swallowing of
Q's breath "There" James whispered, taking a step back to admire the way the
camellia caressed that soft temple and let Q have some space.
The young man closed his eyes to hide the raising tide of overwhelming emotions
wash in his irises, focusing on getting his rapid breathing under control
again; every nerve ending had been shattered by the tentative feeling of
someone touching him, his skin itching unpleasantly with a strange mix of both
wanting and recoiling for more "Thank you, for everything"
"You're welcome, Q"
===============================================================================
"Don't leave me"
With surprise blooming in his eyes, Q looked down at Basil who was sniffling
rather loudly and had tears slowly sliding down his cheeks hollowed out by
hunger "Dear, don't you want to stay here with Alec?" He crouched down,
smoothing the gaudy golden robe the King had given him to replace the crimson
nightgown he had gallivated around in, and tenderly looked into those big brown
eyes, trying to mutely reassure him that they wouldn't kick him out in the
streets again "I was told you two get along pretty well"
"Yes and, I can assure you, I adore your presence as well" James smiled down at
the boy, who seemingly had eyes only for his saviour.
Basil stepped closer and sobbed when Q lurched back, jostling the camellia
warming against his skin, graceful hands wrapped around his biceps as if to
hold himself together "I don't have fleas!" he cried pitifully, making James
silently cringe.
Q cocked his head to the side, surprised by the words leaving the child's mouth
"Oh, baby" he sighed as soon as he understood Basil had been upset he had
avoided his attempted hug "It has nothing to do with you" He awkwardly gestured
towards his own body "I'm the sick one"
Those words clearly didn't have the reassuring lilt Q was aiming at and managed
only to make Basil cry harder and louder "You can't die!"
Q looked up at the King with pleading eyes, mutely asking for help to deal with
the situation, and smiled thinly in relief as the sovereign lowered himself to
the floor and grabbed the child, holding him close to his chest "He's not going
to die, Basil, but touching hurts him" he explained gently.
"But he held me yesterday" Basil glanced at Q hopefully before burying his head
in James' chest.
"Imagine your skin being completely bruised" James suggested "It's painful when
someone touches your bruises, isn't it?"
Basil sniffled and nodded, casting another glance towards Q as if to take in
suddenly bloomed bruises "It hurts"
"Yes, but it's not unbearable. If it meant saving someone else's life wouldn't
you endure the pain?"
"Yes, but I wouldn't want anyone to touch them again" Basil wriggled in James'
lap and faced the High Priest "Do you feel like that?"
"Unfortunately" Q's answer was dry and to the point. He had known the King was
aware of his phobia of touching, but hearing him so openly aknowledge it was
shocking and unpleasant: it made him feel a freak, a joke of nature "Well, I'd
better take my leave" Q hastily raised to his feet.
"You're sure you don't want me to order a carriage?" The King stood up, still
cradling Basil in his arms.
"No, I prefer walking" Q dismissed the offer itching to get away from those
eyes that knew him far too well.
"But you'll come back to say hi, right?"
"Don't worry, Basil, I'm always in the Temple"
 
Chapter End Notes
     Heliotrope stands for devotion, Baby's breath is the symbol of
     innocence and purity of heart (that's why it is so often used as
     filler for wedding bouquets) and white Camellias mean adoration,
     perfection and loveliness.
***** 8 *****
Chapter Summary
     James nodded his agreement at Q as jade-green irises briefly glanced
     at him, gauging his reaction to his speech; how could have James
     reacted with anything but approval, he didn’t know: the High Priest
     had substantially given him an army of spies to aid him in the
     crusade against the Rebels – and just with few well-placed words
Chapter Notes
     This is not beta'd because I was too impatient to wait and wanted to
     immediately post it lol
     The first part of the chapter is a bit graphic and deals with Q's
     abuse so, skip it if it's too much for you.
See the end of the chapter for more notes
                                       8
Q strode into the Temple in a way that shrieked he wanted to be left alone,
garish golden robes trailing behind him and white petals falling down, nestling
in the luxurious folds of cloth slipping down from his left shoulder, clearly a
couple of sizes too large for his waifish frame “I’ll be out of my rooms in
time for mass” he spat out, not bothering to glance back at the priests staring
at him wide-eyed, shocked by such an uncharacteristic display of temper on the
usually quiet and good-natured High Priest.

He burrowed deeper into the maze of corridors hidden at the core of the Temple,
a dark mess of entwining corridors that brought nowhere; whereas an outsider
would have slowly started feeling disoriented and choked by the endless twists
and turns and doors opening on abandoned chapels, Q felt both his focus sharpen
and his muscle memory kick in – his body was readying itself for an ambush in
the shadows.
His pace quickened silently on the fraying rugs

[“Stop running, my sweet boy” the High Priest orders in an amused voice, calmly
following in the wake of his scared protégé and keeping his eyes fixed on the
beautifully pale expanse of milky skin; if he thinks about it long enough, he
can easily recall its clean and apricot-flavoured taste that wondrously set his
taste buds alight “It’s unbecoming of the future High Priest” he reminds to
that head of bobbing curls, shining like obsidian in the thick and oily
darkness leading to the core of the Temple, where his boy foolishly hoped to
find safety to embrace him – shelter in the chambers of the man he was fleeing
from]
and tried to ignore the way his nape itched uncomfortably, shaking fastidiously
away the long-ingrained need to look behind his back and assess whether he was
being followed or not: he knew the monster had died and finally freed him from
his perversion, left him alone and damaged to stitch what remained of his life
together.

With his mind still reeling, Q pushed open the door to his chambers

[The High Priest inspects the seemingly deserted rooms, a devious and delighted
smile playing on his lips as he locked up the only way out and blood started to
sing in his veins, a delirious excitement flooding his brain at the prospect of
a chase “I know you’re under the bed” he sing-songed, leisurely making his way
towards his sumptuous bed “Do come out, little love” He let his robes fall to
the carpeted floor for Q to see from his hiding spot – he could almost feel the
frightened quickening of his pulse under his tongue]

and freed himself of the fabric enveloping him like the embrace of a persistent
lover, letting out a shuddering breath and tugging the camellia out of his
curls – the unspoken promise held in its petals out of place in the darkness
that was brewing between those four walls.

Q laid completely bare on the pristine bed, fists curling into the soft quilt
and heels digging in the mattress as if fighting against invisible restraints

[“Stop glaring at the ceiling like that” the High Priest sighs, carding a thick
hand through Q’s baby-fine curls before he tugs at them to turn the boy’s head
around and look into those otherworldly expressive eyes: they already are
veiled by unshed tears and a maelstrom of sadness, fear and defiance
relentlessly swirls in their depths “Your body needs to be purged of Evil
before the Eternal can find rest in your vessel” he preaches, the thumb of a
caressing hand catching into the softness of Q’s bottom lip, fluttering with
the short gasps he’s drawing in his lungs and slick with saliva: he’s such a
beautiful boy]

and lowered his eyelids on the reassuring reality of his empty room to admire
the scaring picturespainted on the canvas of his mind: a bloodcurdling scream
fuelled by all the oxygen in his lungs tore its way out of his vocal chords –
it echoed the desperate pleading of a child’s ghost haunting those chambers

[“Hush, my dear” the High Priest coos, tenderly bending down to kiss the fat
tears away from Q’s sharp cheekbones that lend his fair face a striking
resemblance to the exotic looks of a temptress waiting in the filthy darkness
of an alley a customer to lure in her skirts; his mouth trails lower, rubbing
against the softness of that pale skin on its way to the boy’s wet and open
mouth: thrusting his tongue in and plundering the taste of grapes and oranges
from his teeth is easy and exalting – and it makes Q deliciously squirm under
him as he vainly tries to escape his attentions.
When the struggling becomes more pronounced, the High Priest shifts his focus
on the elegant and vulnerable arch of Q’s neck where his skin tastes saltier
with fear and it feels hotter with the conspicuous amounts of blood pushing
against the surface, as if trying to escape his abused body “Breathe” he
orders, worming his hand under the tunic barely hiding his lithe body and
splaying his fingers over his frantically expanding ribcage and thrumming heart
“You won’t like your punishment, if you pass out”
“Please” Q sobs and it makes him flush redder and his eyes shinier – it makes
him even more appealing than a handful of moments ago “Please, it hurts”
The High Priest pushes harder against the trembling chest under his digits, a
silent reminder to Q to breathe regularly, and kisses his creased and sweaty
brow after nudging the curls out of the way “It wouldn’t hurt, if you accepted
the Eternal’s punishment” he points out with a smile: he knows Q is talking
about his new-found fear of touching, the way even a distracted caress from a
priest passing by makes him flinch and scream and how he has scratched the back
of his hands raw in an attempt at soothing the constant imaginary itching
needling at him.
“I don’t want to be the Eternal’s vessel” Q trashes against the High Priest’s
hold and, in his panic, he doesn’t notice how his movements make his robe
finally come undone and reveal his body to the hungry gaze ravaging him.
“Foolish boy” The High Priest’s fingers caress downwards, amidst the boy’s
shaking thighs: Q’s not aroused – he can’t be: he’s too young for that – but he
can’t help fondling him “You’ve been chosen” he lies so easily, knowing that
nobody – not even his young victim – believes in his words; he squeezes Q’s
tender and fleshy buttocks enough to bruise and the boy’s legs ungracefully
fall open to reveal his puckered opening “You don’t have a say in your life”]

– surrendering to his demons felt like coming home, far away from the King’s
knowing eyes.
===============================================================================

“I know you don’t care much for the Cult, but you and the High Priest must
present a united front against this threat” Mallory stopped his pacing right in
front of the King, frowning at the sight of the usually stern man holding an
evidently distressed child in his arms and making absentminded cooing noises at
him “You need to go to mass this evening”

James glanced up at his advisor “I was already planning on doing so” he
admitted unashamedly, as if it had never taken Mallory days of pleading to get
him to show his face at carefully scheduled ceremonies taking place in the
Temple; it was a novelty both welcome and suspicious, one that made Mallory
wary about his King’s intentions towards the young High Priest.

Alec snorted at the bewilderment written all over the advisor’s usually
politely schooled features “You almost did Gareth in, James!”

Mallory turned to glare at the captain of the guards “You’re not too old to be
put on my knee, Alec” he threatened him before focusing back on the King to
smile his approval, even if he was suspicious of the motives that had made
James so pliant at the idea of enduring a mass: he never was one to look into a
gifted horse mouth “Well then, I’ll leave you two to prepare” He bowed primly
and walked out of the room, smirking as Alec started violently protesting at
his sudden inclusion in the little party going to the Temple that evening.

Basil amusedly watched the big blond man swear and rearranged himself in a more
comfortable position in James’ lap; he huffed when he slid to the floor because
of the non-existent friction between the silky robe James had forced on him and
the King’s garments made of smooth fabrics “I hate this thing” he mumbled,
picking himself up from the rug with blood staining his cheeks in embarrassment
“You wear stupid clothes”

“That’s sadly true, James” Alec concurred, admiring the spine the boy was
showing while standing up to the King of the Empire “You always had a taste for
ridiculous outfits, just because you want to parade your body around like a
bloody peacock”

James ignored their complainings and reached for Basil to tug his clothes in
order with expert fingers; the child endured the fussing remarkably well, just
heaving a sigh or two and making faces at James’ bent head, believing the man
couldn’t see him “Are we going to see Q, then?” he asked, hopeful eyes seeming
impossibly large on his drawn face “I miss him”

“You’ve seen him just this morning” Alec reminded Basil.

“Still” Basil shrugged and let himself be drawn to sit in James’ lap again, his
arms looped loosely around his waist to keep him from falling on the floor “So,
are we going?”

James smiled “Yes and you’ll have to wear even more ridiculous clothes”
===============================================================================

“He looks sick” Basil muttered, voice dripping with worry as he glanced to and
fro from Q tiredly leaning against the altar as he chanted the mass with voice
roughened by smoke and James sitting rigidly in his uncomfortable seat, icy-
blue eyes focused on the trembling of the High Priest’s fingers.

Q’s simple white robes swathing his waifish frame seemed almost excessively
austere after the bright-coloured and luxurious garments he had worn in the
Palace, while his heavily crowned head was strikingly garish in comparison to
the single camellia that had adorned his curls when he had departed from the
Palace: strands of dodder dotted with small white flowers had been braided into
a circlet together with buttery yellow dragon’s wort flowers and shockingly
pink blossoms of ice plant, a couple of orange lilies had been entwined in Q’s
luscious curls and made his pale skin look somewhat pasty instead of polished
ivory.

James grabbed one of Basil’s hands to stop him from restlessly shifting on his
seat “Be quiet” he whispered “You’ll just make it more difficult for him, if
you don’t stay quiet” he tried to appeal to Basil’s attachment to Q and focused
again on the mass.

The High Priest sighed heavily, a languid sound fluttering against his painted
lips that to James’ eyes looked so vulgar after having had the pleasure of
seeing Q without an ounce of makeup on to mask the natural delicate beauty of
his features “The people who set fire to the marketplace yesterday, they took
the labours of your hard work. They took your adored friends. They took your
children. They took your families” Q paused to hide some dry coughing behind
the back of his hand and the silence was filled by muffled sobbing and crying
“They took from the Eternal Its glorious design” The last syllables were
drowned by a sonata of enraged and pained shouts that obliged Q to wait for the
angry wave to calm down before picking his speech up again “Your anger is just”
His voice came out as that of a general slowly coaxing his soldiers to a war
they didn’t think necessary: a seductive and low baritone filled with
comprehension and compassion, soul-wracking in its brutal honesty and frailty
“The only way to defeat this calamity is to stay united and not to squabble
over mundanities; you all are called to a greater task: your eyes are the
Eternal’s and it’s your duty to come to me and to the King’s men to refer any
suspicious detail you might have seen”

James nodded his agreement at Q as jade-green irises briefly glanced at him,
gauging his reaction to his speech; how could have James reacted with anything
but approval, he didn’t know: the High Priest had substantially given him an
army of spies to aid him in the crusade against the Rebels – and just with few
well-placed words. He patiently waited for Q to bring the mass to its closure
and for the Temple to empty of the acolytes.

“Your Highness” Q greeted, slowly walking towards them; a throng of fettering
priests and guards followed him, as close as possible without choking him with
their presence “Hello, Basil”

Basil squirreled out from under James’ arm and hurried next to Q “You’re ill”

“No, dear” Q crouched down and smiled tiredly at the child “You look like a
Prince dressed like this”

“James dresses like an idiot”

A painful sounding laugh escaped Q’s throat “You look way nicer than the King”
he assured him “Now, go into the carriage to wait for the King: I need to have
a few private words with him”

“But…”

“Do as the High Priest says Basil” James intervened “What’s happening to you?
You didn’t seem this sick this morning”

Q smiled bitterly and offered the King a trembling hand with the palm facing
upwards and fingers lax “Do you really want to know, your Highness?”

“Let me help you, Q”

“Take my hand, James, and I’ll show you”

As soon as their hands were clasped together, Q fell to the ground and filled
the Temple with his horribly shrieking screams – leaving James unable to do
anything but watch as a mere handshake had reduced the strong-willed High
Priest to that pitiful and wailing creature; he was ready to swear that his
hand was on fire when the words “Please, it hurts” slipped out in a heart-
wrenching sob.
 
 
Chapter End Notes
     Dodder stands for meannes; Dragon’s wort symbolises horror; Ice plant
     means "Your looks freeze me"; orange Lilies stand for hatred.
***** 9 *****
Chapter Summary
     "I love you, too" Q rasped and sat up, disliking the apparent
     inferiority that laying flat on the bed suggested. When the covers
     pooled at his waist, he shivered and quickly tugged them over his
     shoulders "So, what happened after I passed out?"
Chapter Notes
     Not beta'd by the wife @fellowshipofthegay because my mailbox hates
     me and won't send the fucking message *quietly rages*
     A quick thank you to Emmikus for their constant support and
     excitement for this story ♥ I think you'll quite enjoy this chapter
See the end of the chapter for more notes
                                       9
"The boy is feverish with shock and exhaustion right now" the physician
revealed, eyes darting in all directions to avoid looking at the half-liquefied
face in front of him "If you're planning a move on him, now it would be the
right moment: he's quite incapable of fighting back, probably he won't even
wake up while your men extract him from the Temple"
The disfigured man hummed and propped his chin on the back of an elegant and
tanned hand, a finger adorned with a scar where a ring used to sit lazily
stroking circles on his full lower lip "And how do you suggest my men
infiltrate the Temple to abduct the High Priest?" he inquired with a sickly
sweet voice that made the physician visibly flinch in his seat; not even the
most hardened and seasoned soldiers could idly sit when such a tone filled the
man's half-ruined mouth.
"I could lie about the boy's health conditions, diagnose something quite dire
that would need the sterile and safe treatment that can only be offered in my
especially designed rooms. And your men could act as my assistants and deal
with the few guards permitted to accompany the High Priest"
"It's a sound plan" Genuine surprise replaced the amusement "But I don't wish
to apprehend the High Priest, yet" The times still needed ripening: people
still had too much faith in their spiritual and political leaders and weren't
ready to see the faults in their characters - the High Priest and the King had
to start showing unacceptable flaws before the rebellion could strike a killing
blow "Your contribute to the cause will be rewarded" The man offered in
dismissal, throwing at the physician a satchel clinking with heavy coins: it
wouldn't do to loose such a convenient source of information just because he
had to part with a little gold.
===============================================================================
Q opened his eyes to a heavily scowling Bill "Good morning" he croaked,
squinting his eyes a bit to protect them from the shimmering sunlight.
Bill's frown deepened considerably "You're an idiot" he stated as he peered
closely at Q's face, trying to understand whether the paleness of his skin was
due to Q's life as a recluse in the Temple or to the slight fever that had
plagued him during the night after his stupid stunt with the King at the end of
mass "Clearly you inhaled too much smoke"
"I love you, too" Q rasped and sat up, disliking the apparent inferiority that
laying flat on the bed suggested. When the covers pooled at his waist, he
shivered and quickly tugged them over his shoulders "So, what happened after I
passed out?"
Bill shook his head, but complied to Q's request and retold the previous
evening events while servants bustled in and fixed them breakfast, loading the
trays with fresh fruit and fragrant tea "The King was escorted out of the
Temple; he didn't seem particularly surprised by your reaction, as if he had
been expecting it, and immediately offered to send his personal physician - we
declined, of course: your medical entourage is quite expert in handling you"
"Or not handling" Q joked, sipping the scalding hot tea with relish: its warmth
and the honey that had been spooned in the drink were balms for his dry and
sore throat "Go on"
"There's nothing much left to say: you came down with a slight fever and
peacefully slept for the whole night" Bill reached behind himself to grab the
bouquet that had been arranged in a vase on the table "And the King sent you
these just after dawn"
The spiderwort flowers almost hurt the eyes watching them with the startling
vibrancy of their colour, a solid bluish-violet that soared straight to the
brain and impressed itself there as if on a canvas "I'll make sure to return
the courtesy"
"Why did you offer him your hand?" Bill placed the vase where Q could see it
and nudged a slice of peach closer to him, silently prompting him to eat.
Q shrugged and occupied his mouth with chewing on the soft and saccharine juicy
fruit "The King wanted to help me and I needed to show I trust him, if we want
him as an ally against the Rebels" he reasoned; he kept to himself the fact he
had hoped he wouldn't feel as if he was burning alive when the King laced their
hands together, since the gentle caresses on his curls hadn't hurt him - only
the remembrance of other fingers sorting through his hair had made him wary and
trembling.
"Gaining an ally in the King isn't worth your health"
Q smiled sadly at him "Everything is worth peace, my dear friend: we're just
sacrificable chess pieces for the Eternal - Its mind only contemplates the
endgame"
Bill had long known Q's faith in the Eternal was destructive, but it still
saddened him hearing such resigned words from the young man; once again, he
cursed the former High Priest who had taken a terrified abandoned child in need
of guidance and love and transformed him into an anxious man who believed his
body to be a mere vessel for the Eternal "We weren't created out of caprice" he
pointed out, standing up to take his leave "We weren't created to be lifeless
puppets"
Not a word came from Q as Bill closed the door behind his back.
The priest quickly walked away from Q's chambers, ready to direct the
organisation of the Temple in the High Priest's stead. He occupied his mind
with the possibility of prohibiting Q to celebrate mass that evening and
thought about a suitable replacement, grimacing at the idea of preaching to a
crowd of devoted acolytes already used to Q's beautifully crafted and
hypnotising speeches: he was dry and direct, not fond of rhetorical
embellishments and frilly wording that would only tie his tongue and make him
forget what was he trying to communicate.
"Revered Tanner"
Bill focused his attention on the priest calling his name and immediately
sharpened his gaze as he noticed the man's evident discomfort "What's wrong?"
"A child was found trying to sneak in past the Great Hall of the Temple"
A child "Is the boy's name Basil?" Bill asked and started to walk towards the
Great Hall, confiding in the other priest to follow him.
"Yes, actually"
Wonderful. Bill quickened his pace and sighed heavily when he spotted the
orphan Q had saved from the fire moodily sitting on the steps leading to the
dais from which the altar dominated the room "Should I inform the King you
escaped your rooms before he sends out a search party or does he know you're
here?"
Basil glared up at the priest "I didn't escape: I'm not a prisoner!"
"Answer the question" Bill retorted, waving the other priests away with a
careless gesture of a hand "And I'll let you see the High Priest, if you
promise not to tire him"
Basil pondered the offer, distrust playing openly on his still somewhat
androgynous features; Bill shuddered at the idea that Q had started screaming
under a caressing hand when he had been younger than the orphan he had saved "I
told Ms Eve but I'm pretty sure she didn't hear me"
Bill offered the boy a hand "Come on, I'll accompany you to Q's rooms"
"Could you not tell James I'm out without supervision?" Basil attempted asking,
figuring that it wouldn't hurt much: he already was in trouble; James and Alec
had lectured him quite thoroughly about sneaking out of the Palace and implied
he would be punished if he didn't comply with the rules they had set.
"No" Bill answered drily "As soon as you're with Q I'll send a messenger to the
Palace"
"Could you include a message from me too?"
"I hope you want to send your apologies to His Highness" Bill agreed, admiring
the cheek of the boy: no wonder the King liked him to the point of taking him
in and raising him.
Basil candidly grinned "Not quite. Bend down so I can whisper in your ear"
===============================================================================
Alec was laughing so hard that tears had started to streak his cheeks, fuelling
James' irritation towards the crumpled piece of paper in his fist "Did he
really wrote 'Just checking on your flowers'?"
James slowly exhaled "He wasn't supposed to know I have sent him flowers"
"He wasn't supposed to go out without permission and a guard to handle him
either" Alec added, still snickering "Will you really punish him? I mean, it's
a bit hypocritical considering how many times we ignored Mallory's orders and
escaped this place" How the advisor had never snapped and strangled them both,
Alec still didn't know; they had been real terrors as children, always in some
kind of trouble and evading their punishments.
"You never go back on your words with children"
"How would you know? It's not as if you have brats of your own - or did you
hide them from me?" Alec teased, knowing that James wouldn't keep such a secret
from him; even if the child was illegitimate, his friend would have come to him
for counsel or to simply rant about his bad luck.
"Well, there must be a reason why Mallory never did" James pondered "I'm a
failure at this parenting shit"
Alec bumped shoulders with James in mute comfort "You still have time to
practice: the brat is young"
"And hopeless" James sighed "We were the same at his age and look at us"
"Yeah, we did really bad: we're just the King of the Empire and the Captain of
its guards" Alec joked "Don't worry about him, there's also the High Priest to
set him straight"
"Who should be resting instead of entertaining Basil"
Alec sighed "Why are you so enthralled with Q? Is it just the similarities he
shares with Vesper? Because it's quite unhealthy and, may I add, quite
disrespectful towards the boy" He observed James' expression close off, the
playfulness and exasperation towards Basil disappear from his features only to
leave an inscrutable mask; it was a clue on its own for Alec who knew him well:
evidently, Q was more than just the mirrored and slightly distorted image of
Vesper - something more that not even James could exactly pinpoint "He's frail,
James: you can't toy with him"
"He's not frail... Something was done to him in the Temple: one doesn't fear
touch without reason" James pointed out, looking out of the window to avoid
Alec's blue eyes "You were there yesterday"
"He might have been already damaged before he ended up in the Temple"
The King shook his head; something about Q's resigned devotion to the Eternal
pointed at a great degree of attempted manipulation and cruel obligation: Q
hadn't wanted to be High Priest, he probably had never wanted to join the Cult
and loose himself in the depths of an empty god to which he had offered his
existence "The former High Priest was a monster"
Alec couldn't disagree with that statement: Q's predecessor had been quite
attached to power, riches and, if the whispers were to be believed, the sinful
pleasures found only between the thighs of untouched youths "We're too
prejudiced against the Cult"
James dropped the topic: it was no use talking to Alec when he got that
stubborn "So, how should I punish Basil when he comes back home?"
===============================================================================
Q observed Basil quietly reading at the foot of his bed, curled over the sheets
like a lazy cat "The King is going to chain you to a chair for the next month"
"Why don't you call him James?" Basil asked instead of acknowledging the High
Priest's words "He calls you Q all the time"
"Well, that's improper" Q retorted, vaguely flustered at the idea of his name
being regularly spoken at the Palace.
"Which one?"
Cheeky brat "Both"
Silence filled again the bedroom and the itch of boredom started to gnaw at Q's
mind, making him unnervingly restless; he had never been fond of spending his
days doing nothing in bed - the reasons why were something he didn't really
wish to ponder upon - and was so unused to having time to himself that he
didn't know to do with it "What are you reading?"
Basil looked at the cover and frowned "I don't know, something boring" He knew
how to read - but just a little and the book didn't have any pictures in it.
Q sighed and plucked the book out of Basil's hands "Well, I think you're hardly
interested in a dissertation on the nature of the Eternal"
"That explains the lack of pictures" Basil sighed "Can we do something?"
"What would you like to do?" Q curiously inquired: his childhood hadn't been
exactly normal, he didn't know what bored children got up to.
Basil scuttled up the bed, still at a safe distance from Q's skin but much more
closer than before "We could go out"
"I'm sick" Q emphatically waved a hand over the messy bed on which they were
laying.
"You're not"
Q quite agreed with the statement, the fever had broken long before he woke up
that morning and his exhaustion had been taken care of by small but substantial
meals and a whole half day of resting "You promised Bill you wouldn't tire me"
he reminded the child.
"I also promised James I wouldn't leave the Palace alone" Basil replied
cheekily "So?"
Q was quite sick of his bedroom, to be honest "Alright, but it won't be easy"
===============================================================================
Alec squinted at the two youths perched on the branch of a tree on his way to
the Temple to retrieve the little scoundrel for his punishment, his eyes
inexplicably focusing on their heads bent together so closely that black curls
mingled together with honey-brown strands. The closer he got, the hardest it
became to shift his attention from the boys; everything about them called out
to him, from the strange distance between their bodies to the cadence of their
voices - they were terribly familiar and Alec was almost ready to swear he had
already seen that green shirt quite up close.
Realisation dawned upon him like a wall crumbling on his head "What are you two
doing up there?!"
The boys looked down at him as if they had been caught with their fingers in
the proverbial pies. Basil immediately regained his composure and started to
merrily swing his legs - a mocking taunting - while Q pinched his mouth and
blushed deeply.
"Hi, uncle Alec" Basil grinned and waved childishly.
"Don't uncle me, Basil" Alec scowled "And shouldn't you be in bed, your Grace?"
Q frowned at being reprimanded like a disobedient child "I don't answer to you"
he spat out defensively, tucking his long legs under his bum.
"Get down here" Alec ordered and watched them climb down the tree, mildly
surprised by Q's agility "I suppose nobody in the Temple knows you're out here,
climbing trees like a little monkey" He barely resisted the urge to mess with
the other's curls, remembering at the last minute the reaction Q had to touch.
"It's not as if I'm bound to tell the priests everything: I'm an independent
adult!"
Basil immediately backed him up, squirming closer to the High Priest. They
looked like brothers, both dressed in casual but clearly expensive clothes and
their similar complexion "There's not even a window in his rooms! We were
dying"
Alec sighed "And to think that I told James he doesn't need to be good at
parenting because there's you to set the brat straight - I was so wrong" He
gestured for Basil to climb on the horse, who obeyed only when Q nudged him
with just the pads of his fingers "Come on, we'll escort you back to the Temple
before going to the Palace"
"There's no need, really..."
"Oh, can't he come home with us?" Basil pleaded, pouting and batting his
eyelashes at Alec.
"Yes, you need an escort. And no, Basil, we can't abduct the High Priest of the
Cult just because we fancied having dinner together"
"It's a perfectly polite invitation" Basil retorted.
Before he could get too upset, Q smiled at him "I'm sorry, dear, but I really
can't"
Alec consoled Basil with a pat on the shoulder and an affectionate kiss to his
temple - a gesture that inexplicably made Q flinch as if disgusted and mildly
terrified; James words about the horrible character of Q's predecessor waltzed
through his mind "Though, you can politely invite the High Priest to the picnic
we're having on Sunday's morning"
"Really? Will you come, Q?"
"Of course, if I don't end up locked up in the Temple for disobeying the
doctors' orders"
Chapter End Notes
     Spiderwort flowers symbolise esteem for the receiver.
***** 10 *****
Chapter Summary
     "What happened?" James foolishly enquired, knowing that dreamily
     ghosts answered in riddled words that would plague his waking hours.
Chapter Notes
     I particularly like this chapter, folks, so I hope you enjoy it too!
     You have all my gratitude for giving this story a chance and an
     amazing feedback ♥
See the end of the chapter for more notes
                                      10
James squinted at the image playing in front of his eyes, knowing perfectly
well that it couldn't be real for two very consistent reasons: Vesper was
definitely dead and couldn't be smiling at him from her perch and Q would have
never let anyone so carelessly sling an arm around his waist. Both were dressed
in crimson, accents of gold here and there to make their irises sparkle in the
soft sunlight, heads bent together so that it was impossible to tell where
one's hair finished and the other's begun, tangling together in a a mess of
barely tamed curls to frame their sharp-edged faces.
The closeness made it easier to spot the differences between them, to separate
the frame of the High Priest from the one of the woman he had once loved; it
was as if his mind was offering him a chance to disassociate the two, bringing
them into focus.
James was stunned to realise how truly appealing he found Q with his graceful
fluttering hands and tenderly uneasy smiles.
"Look, Q! It's James!" Vesper buffed the High Priest on a cheek to make him
look towards the ground, where James was standing rather awkwardly at the base
of the tree they had climbed "Come on, join us!"
Q waved his fingers in greeting, a gesture James was quite sure Q would never
employ in the realm outside of his dreams "Don't worry about the frailty of the
branch: it's quite sturdy!" he reassured, bouncing a bit on the wood to prove
his point; Vesper immediately joined him and the tinkling sound of their
delighted laughs soared in the crystal clear blue sky.
James almost found himself too weirded out by what his subconscious had dished
out for him and it was only warily that he decided to join them, ascending
slowly along the wide trunk of the tree smelling of dusty wood and resin "What
are you two doing up here?" he enquired as he was dangerously shuffled to sit
in between them, surrounded by crimson cloths and pale limbs.
Vesper's fingers deftly got rid of a leaf that had gotten stuck in the collar
of his shirt, her trimmed nails lightly scratching at his neck "We're enjoying
the view" she vaguely gestured at the unfamiliar landscape leisurely stretched
out in front of them: veiled by azure fog, barren and black mountains loomed
over a field of heather.
"And to enjoy the shade" Q quipped in, childishly swinging his legs "It's quite
hot today" he pointed out, shooting Vesper a playful glare as if the
uncomfortably high temperature was her fault.
Vesper rolled her eyes and leaned in to pinch Q's side, dangerously upsetting
their balance "Some sunlight wouldn't hurt you" she tutted "Tell him, James:
our Q needs to come out of the Temple more often" she mock whispered in his ear
while winking at Q, who huffed and rolled his eyes.
"Someone needs to pray for you two" the High Priest sighed, haughtily
scrunching up his nose before he dissolved into a fit of giggles as Vesper
tickled him and James was obliged to grab at his spasming body to keep him from
falling down: it was so weird, being able to touch Q without fear and pain
lurking in the shadows of his green eyes "Vesper!"
"Stop it, you two" James intimated, watching them both with barely hidden
surprise and incredulity, eyes carefully trained on those strange projections
of his mind: Vesper and Q had never been so childish and carefree, haunted as
they were by their pasts "Just stop it"
They sobered so suddenly that the absence of their laughs was almost physically
painful; they retracted their limbs and forced them into primly sitting as if
they were lounging on a throne instead of a tree branch; they wiped any
colourful expression from their astonishingly ethereal features - in a bad
omen, the red of their robes saturated into riper shade. Under their dangling
legs, the sea of grass had melt into a startlingly blue frozen lake, which
depths were as dark as a night sky inhabited by a new moon.
"What happened?" James foolishly enquired, knowing that dreamily ghosts
answered in riddled words that would plague his waking hours.
Q turned his suddenly painted face towards him "You know what happened to me,
your Highness" Golden lips parted around the ominous words and his black-rimmed
eyes flashed an almost supernatural green "You know what he did to me" His
voice broke into a frail whisper, as thin as trickling water.
"He?" James wanted to touch Q but instinctively knew that a shift had happened
and that the feeling of the pads of his fingers brushing that chalked skin
wouldn't be well received "Who?"
"The High Priest" Vesper's answered in Q's stead, her voice as bitter as
poison.
"What would you know about it?" James challenged, the old sense of betrayal
uncomfortably bubbling in his lungs "What happened to you?"
"I drowned into a lake, didn't I? You were there, if I recall correctly" She
pointed downwards, nonchalant and uncaring, and James choked: beneath the ice,
a red-clad corpse was lulled by invisible streams moving the cold water "There
were reasons why I wanted the Cult and the Empire destroyed: our little Q was
one of them"
"Who else knew?" The thought of other people knowing about the supposed abuse Q
had endured for all his childhood and teenage years and no one doing raising a
finger to stop it, made James sick to the stomach and unbelievably angry.
"The Rebels and everyone in the Temple - for so many people knowing about it,
it's a strangely well-kept secret" Q's voice rung apathetic in the air growing
colder by the minute and his breath clouded thickly out of his mouth "It will
come to the light, though: such spectres never stay in the dark"
"There are no proofs" Vesper pointed out, while morbidly studying the way her
corpse effortlessly floated under the limpid blue ice.
"Touch me and I turn into a screaming proof" Q exhaled, spreading his hands in
a show of naked helplessness.
"True" Vesper conceded.
"What's the point of this conversation?" James studied them warily.
"You tell us, your Highness" Q murmured, flashing him a plastic smile "We're
puppets for your imagination to play with"
"Soundboards for your conjectures" Vesper added "Certainly better than speaking
to yourself, isn't it?" she chuckled, incomprehensibly amused by the scenario
in which she had been forced to act.
Q arched an eyebrow as if unconvinced by Vesper's opinion, probably thinking
that talking to a dead traitorous lover and a blossoming untouchable obsession
was rather masochistic "So, your Highness, are you ready to wake up?"
===============================================================================
Alec slipped strawberry-flavoured marmalade on James' plate and quietly
observed as he slathered it on a bite of bread and peacefully ate it - no
spluttering, no cursing, no grimaces of distaste: it wasn't normal.
Next to him, Mallory frowned as he recollected the many times Alec had pranked
James in the same manner and the heavily disgusted reactions that had ensued:
James had never liked that particular kind of spread, claiming that it was too
sugary for his tastes - and there he was, eating it without a flinch.
Perplexed, Basil tugged at Eve's skirt "What's wrong?" he whispered in her ear.
Eve looked up from her breakfast "Since when do you eat marmalade?" she asked,
pointing with her fork towards the telling red smudge on his plate.
James looked down, frowning darkly "Who the hell put marmalade in front of me?"
He grabbed a glassful of water to wash the taste out of his mouth, now that he
was focused enough to feel it poisoning his taste buds.
Alec shrugged "It was a test, you seem out of your mind this morning"
"Charming" James grimaced and excused himself from the table "I'm going for a
ride" he informed them as he walked out of the dining hall . He didn't even
stop by his rooms to change into the more comfortable riding gear and quickly
made his way towards the stables, barely greeting the people thrumming along
the corridors of the Palace and who hastily bowed at his passage.
As per orders, his horse was left alone; James enjoyed personally taking care
of the deep brown-mantled stallion that Mallory had gifted him when his eight-
year long period of regency had finished and James had been crowned King of the
Empire - the youngest ever since the Empire was born, barely eighteen years old
and a crown too heavy for his head. Octavius was a fierce and powerful beast
that James had never really managed to tame and that obeyed him just because
his persistence and stubbornness had probably earned him its respect "We're
going out for some air" James gently caressed the thick and darker shaded mane,
before forcing the reins and the saddle on its rebellious frame.
James wandered the fields without a destination on mind, letting Octavius
gallop freely in the wilderness; he just needed the action to forget everything
about the dream that incessantly gnawed at his brain, making his focus on real
life waver rather unnervingly. As if reading his mind, Octavius led him towards
the furthest side of the Temple, where the balconies and the windows of the
priests' apartments overlooked the streets - considerably better placed than
the High Priest's chambers that didn't even have a window to clear the thick
and incense-spiked air.
"Can I help you, your Highness?"
James looked down at the priest clad in simple and stark white robes and
recognised him from the first meeting with the newly crowned High Priest "I
think we haven't been introduced last time, Revered"
"Bill Tanner" the priest answered drily at the implicit question, an enigmatic
and clever smile stretching his thin mouth that still managed to look friendly
- possibly, it was the first priest James met and didn't feel the itch to punch
in the nose.
"Revered Tanner" James offered his hand and was amazed to feel callouses under
his digits, clear sign that the priest wasn't a lazy individual "I just let my
horse wander at its will and here we happened"
Bill hummed in understanding "The High Priest claims that's more freeing, not
steering into a particular direction one's mount"
"I've heard from the captain of my guards that he's quite the jockey" James
mused, wishing he could have seen the usually composed man exert his body in an
activity as strenuous and demanding as riding a horse.
"It was a surprise even for me, your Highness, and I've taught the High Priest
how to read and write" Bill's amazement still rung in his voice together with a
warm note of ridiculous pride: it wasn't as if Q was his son, despite having
basically raised him "Well, since you're here your Highness, would you like to
meet the High Priest?" Q needed more social interaction and Bill firmly
believed that with his no-nonsense attitude and brutal honesty, the King would
be good for Q's barely existing social skills.
James wasn't one to refuse an opportunity to unravel a mystery, he had been one
of those obnoxious children that incessantly poked at hurting teeth with his
tongue "I wouldn't impose on the High Priest's schedule"
Bill waved a hand "You won't be bothering him, your Highness. And I know for
sure that he wished to thank you for the lovely flowers you sent over the other
morning" Slowly wilting, the spiderwort flowers were still a livening splash of
blue in Q's bedroom.
"It was nothing" James shrugged, as if he hadn't spent hours wandering the
gardens of the Palace in search of the perfect blossoms amidst the great
variety of plants offered to him "It would be my pleasure to meet the High
Priest, Revered Tanner"
===============================================================================
"Your Grace, there's a visitor for you"
Q turned to look questioningly at Bill, a booklet of scribbled prayers hanging
open in his hands "Who?"
"His Highness" Bill revealed, grinning as he noticed the subtle tells of Q's
nervousness appearing like snails after a rainy afternoon: the fingers that
immediately went to comb his hopelessly messy curls, the quick glance at the
mirror to ashamedly ascertain that his face was clear of any chalk, a hand
self-consciously smoothing the simple robes swathing his body.
"Why?" Q asked, grimacing at hearing the fearfulness in his own voice.
"A social call, nothing more evil than that" Bill reassured him "I'll lead him
in" he announced and disappeared outside before Q could start protesting.
Q blinked at Bill's rapidly retreating back as he let his body fall onto the
chair into a graceful heap, waiting for his unexpected visitor; thinking about
the past, Q couldn't recall a time during which the King had so frequently
visited the Temple and interacted with his predecessor. Despite being always
ensconced in the dark, obsessively hidden from sight, Q had secretly witnessed
many meetings and formed his own opinion about the discussed issues and the
people coming and going from the High Priest's halls.
"I see I'm not the only one easily distracted this morning" James drawled
lowly, making the other man's eyes snap up to focus on him "Well met, Q" he
greeted with a smile while subtly studying the man in front of him: Q was
nothing like he had been in his dream, rather a balanced mixture of the two
personas his brain had projected - it was relieving, in a way "My horse led me
outside of the Temple, Revered Tanner did the rest" he answered at the unspoken
question.
"Apologies for my rudeness" Q could feel bright red splotches blossom under his
skin and he cleared his throat in an attempt at earn some control back "Please,
make yourself comfortable" he invited, closing his book to focus on his guest
"Did you already have breakfast?"
"Somewhat" James sat in front of Q "It was spoiled by a prank"
"Oh, I'll have words with Basil"
"It wasn't him: he's an exceptionally well-behaved child, if one doesn't keep
track of his escapades" James reassured hastily reassured him "It was Alec. He
thought it funny to put marmalade on my plate to verify my alertness this
morning: in afraid my taste buds will never forgive me for failing that
particular test any time soon"
Q smiled "I can call for something to eat, if you'd like"
James shook his head to decline the offer "I dreamt about you tonight"
How was he supposed to react or respond, Q didn't know; it wasn't as if people
came to him to describe the landscapes carefully crafted by their subconscious
and Q himself had never shared the contents of his horrifying dreams, deeming
them too intimate to put into words for others to listen to "Probably a
nightmare, then" he resorted to say jokingly.
"It was.. Interesting. We were sitting on a tree branch together with someone I
cared about very much and who died some years ago" James omitted to say
Vesper's name, not wanting to describe the dream in great detail - but he
needed to strip the High Priest of all his masks and layers, if he wanted to
trust him and do something to destroy the rebels "What happened?"
Q blinked, puzzlement etching a frown in his forehead "I'm sorry, what?"
"That's the question I asked you in my dream" James explained, shrugging a bit
to distract Q with his nonchalance "Your answer stated that I already knew what
has been done to you"
Q froze in his chair; his instincts screamed at him to joke and tell the King
that he was basing his conjectures on a dream, while the more rational part of
his brain unhelpfully reminded him that dreams were a gift of the Eternal,
loaded with obscure secrets "You know what happened to me"
The words echoed in James' mind with a dreamlike quality to them "Is that an
affirmation or a question?"
"Both"
"I've got a theory" he addressed the inquiring quality of the sentence. Before
unveiling his conjecture, James took a steading breath while he tried to decide
hoe blunt to be "The former High Priest abused you"
Having someone estranged to the life in the Temple state the truth so candidly
and devoid of any embellishment to sweeten the pill, it was one of Q's most
dreaded nightmares coming to reality. He looked into the King's dispassionately
cold irises, he let that iciness seep into his own soul and steeled himself as
he pondered how to answer: he wanted the King as an ally and he knew that the
only way to earn his trust was honesty "Yes"
Everything - terror, pain, shame, hopelessness - echoed in that dry syllable "I
hoped to be wrong" James relaxed his posture, slouching a bit in his seat "You
let him be buried with all honours"
"I couldn't exactly tell everyone about what he did to me: can you imagine the
scandal?" Q pointed out.
"You're the victim: you don't have anything to be ashamed of"
"I'm supposed to be pure and untouched" Q couldn't help but feel as an imposter
every time he put the circlet in his hair and cradled in his hands the flower
crowns the other priests braided for him "The Eternal's vessel should be
untainted"
"Q, you were raped: in every way that counts, you're still a virgin" James
wanted to get up and shake Q loose from the shackles of fear holding him down
"Do you understand me?"
Q didn't understand: everyone, even Bill, had quietly concurred with him about
his being hopelessly spoiled for the Eternal, despite not having been his fault
"The Eternal alone will be my impartial Judge" As the King opened his mouth to
protest, Q raised an hand to stop him "Please, let my demons rest"
James pursed his mouth but didn't force the conversation to stay on the same
topic and let Q steer it towards other more pleasant and mundane subjects.
Chapter End Notes
     Heather meaning changes according to its colour: white means
     protection and the realisation of dreams, while lavander stands for
     admiration and solitude; the spiderwort flowers are used to indicate
     the respect one has for the receiver.
***** 11 *****
Chapter Summary
     “I didn't realise you're the handholding type, your Highness” Q tried
     to tease but it came out a hollow “So, politics?” he changed theme,
     hoping that the King would follow.
Chapter Notes
     As usual, I have to give my thanks to my adored @fellowshipofthegay
     for the support and the brilliant conversations.
     Thank you to you all who keep me going with your enthusiasm and nice
     words, hearing from you is wonderful ♥
     A special thanks to the lovely AriGrayson who created a wonderful mix
     to go with this story! Here's the link: http://8tracks.com/
     spacegender/selfish-prayers
See the end of the chapter for more notes
                                      11 
In all honesty, after the conversation James had had with Q, he hadn't expected
him to keep his promise to Basil and come to their picnic; he had envisioned
the High Priest hiding behind his mask of chalk and rouge, ensconced deep in
his dark halls festering with the worst kind of dark memories. Defying all
expectations, Q was climbing a sturdy tree together with the child while
Revered Tanner shouted at them both to be careful "Don't break your necks!" He
scowled almost disapprovingly, trying to hide a beaming grin as Mallory joined
him, bitching about Basil always getting into trouble and looking ready to give
one hell of a lecture about safety and propriety; James winced as his mind
resonated with the memories of Mallory's scoldings, triggering his sympathy.
 
"I'm so glad to be too grown up for a good tongue lashing" Alec sighed in
relief, letting himself fall heavily on the slightly damp blanket right next to
his childhood friend; he wrinkled his nose as the smell of freshly cut grass
started bothering him "I still have nightmares about Mallory's speeches" he
confessed, throwing his forearm over his eyes to shadow them from the bright
sunlight as he settled for a well-deserved nap.
 
James muffled a laugh "Technically, we still get lectured: you simply learned
how to use selective hearing to exclude his voice when he starts preaching" He
pinched Alec's side just to annoy him and quickly got out of the way of his
friend's blind punch aimed at his thigh; just to be sure he wouldn't be victim
of retaliation, James leaned on his elbows as far away as possible from Alec
while still laying on the blanket. He turned his head once again to watch the
shenanigans taking place under the tree and grinned when he spotted Q
stretching leisurely on a branch, back resting against the rough trunk that was
undoubtedly ruining the sheer fabric of his black robe that made his skin look
even paler than usual; a few branches below, Basil was quarrelling with Mallory
and Tanner about how much higher he was allowed to climb in a rather loud
voice.
 
"But I want to go to Q!" Basil whined, firmly attached to his perch.
 
Alec kicked James in the shin "I need sleep: make the racket stop" he
complained, never removing his arm from his face.
 
James sighed fondly and got up, stretching leisurely in the sun he so rarely
managed to enjoy "Get down, Basil" he ordered when he strode at the base of the
three, standing next to Revered Tanner and Mallory; he employed his best stern
face, the one that made even Basil subside and obey. The child climbed down
rather quickly but ungracefully, still a bit wobbly as if not sure of his
balance, glaring alternatively at the ground and at the bark of the tree to
show his displeasure "You can annoy uncle Alec" he offered in consolation,
ruffling the honey-coloured strands of his hair; Basil stomped towards the
spread blankets without shooting him more than an irritated glance.
 
"You should come down too, your Grace" Bill quietly said to Q, who nodded in
agreement. Bill smiled at him and followed the stroppy child together with
Mallory, trying to reach him before he climbed on another tree or disappeared
into the forest.
 
Q stretched on his branch before quickly climbing down. He blushed as he felt
the King's eyes on him and tugged the hem of the black robe that had gotten
wrapped around a protuberance in the bark, exposing his milky-white legs up to
his knees "Trousers would probably be a wiser garment to wear when climbing
trees"
 
James grinned at the vaguely annoyed inflection in Q's voice "You didn't rip
your robe" he pointed out, paying a veiled compliment to his agility. He sat
down on the soft grass and patted down next to him "Let's talk politics while
we're alone"
 
Q gingerly joined the King, leaving behind them enough space that Basil could
have sat between them "I thought you usually took mornings like this to rest"
He hugged his knees to his chest and pillowed his cheek on them; a curl fell in
his eye and he irritatedly blew at it, trying to make it move - for a second,
the image of the former High Priest tenderly tucking a sweaty strand behind his
ear overwhelmed him and Q closed his eyes to shake it away. When he opened them
again, his pupils zeroed in on the fingertips hovering over his skin - if they
were a threat or an anchor of salvation, Q didn’t actually know “I’m tired of
being so afraid” he sighed almost absentmindedly, the words leaving his throat
before passing through the filter in his brain that would have buried them
somewhere deep and hidden.
 
“Living in fear is horrible” James concurred, slowly lowering his digits to
barely caress the other man’s cheek “It crushes you and makes you nothing:
you’re stronger than that” He hooked the offending curl with a finger and
pushed it back, where it got lost amidst the others. As he started to retract
his hand, Q grabbed it and brought it again close to his skin; James could feel
the terrified trembling in his taut tendons and he lost himself in his green
irises looking up at him, shiny with unshed tears and desperation.
 
“Don’t let me become nothing” Q ordered the King, keeping his voice as firm as
possible while he forced himself to endure the physical contact: James’ hand
was warm and dry, made a bit rough by calluses, so big that it effortlessly
enveloped the side of his face from temple to his chin; it wasn't an ugly hand,
but it still made him shudder in revulsion and fear. When he felt James
slightly tug to free it, Q entwined their fingers together and pushed his palm
more firmly against his skin “It's not so terrible when I'm the one controlling
contact”
 
“You passed out when you offered me your hand in the Temple” James reminded
him, trying to relax the muscles in his hand so that the tension wouldn't
inadvertently trigger Q.
 
“They were watching me”
 
James didn't need Q to exactly say who he was talking about; he remembered his
dream, Vesper telling him that everyone in the Temple had known about Q's
horrid abuse and done nothing to keep him from harm - not even Revered Tanner,
who seemed to be one of the few human beings Q so implicitly trusted “You're
crying” he uselessly pointed out, swiping at the lonely tear with his thumb: he
had never seen a person so naked while being still dressed “Don't torture
yourself like this” James slowly removed his hand from Q's face but kept their
fingers interlaced “This works just fine for now”
 
“I didn't realise you're the handholding type, your Highness” Q tried to tease
but it came out a hollow “So, politics?” he changed theme, hoping that the King
would follow.
 
“We need to persuade the population we're working together to fight the
rebellion”
 
“We've been seen together quite a bit” Q didn't know what they could do more,
it already held great significance that the infidel King would regularly attend
mass and seemed to pay attention to the hymns and sermons “And before you
suggest for us to be closer in public, it can't be done: I'm the vessel of the
Eternal, I need to be..”
 
“Untouchable” James finished the sentence, furrowing his brow “Your predecessor
didn't present himself as you do to the public” The former High Priest had been
quite the sociable being and almost brutally enjoyed life, taking whatever he
wanted.
 
“One of the reasons why I was elected as his successor: I am the opposite as he
was” Q looked away from James and their entwined hands, focusing on the other
people populating the field edged by the forest: Trevelyan still slept on the
blankets, seemingly unaware of what was happening around him; Basil was eating
one of the pastries for after lunch, surreptitiously looking around himself to
make sure nobody saw him; Mallory and Bill were walking along an invisible
path, heads bent together enraptured in their conversation “Young and devoted”
he murmured the words the other priests had said as a justification for his
election “A rectifying hand”
 
“They can't expect you to reform the Cult on your own” as a King ruling the
Empire, James knew that his efforts and guidance alone weren't enough to keep
such an institution functioning: it took trusted collaborators driven by the
same desires, a certain kind of people that clearly lacked in the dark bowels
of the Temple.
 
“The Cult doesn't want to be reformed” Q had been made High Priest just to
convince the public that something was being done to purify the Cult of vice.
 
James hadn't any answers to offer to that sentence and just nodded his
understanding, refraining from slandering Q's faith as he was used to do: the
High Priest believed rather firmly in the Eternal, the idea of a deity waiting
for Judgement somehow comforted him; despite his mother having been a faithful
acolyte, the concept was foreign to James and he didn't particularly bother to
understand it - the Infidel King “The fire was the first attack after you
became High Priest” he redirected their conversation on the problematic at
hand.
 
Naturally, Q had noticed how the pattern of the attacks had changed since he
had been crowned with gold and flowers behind the altar “They need proofs to
expose me: the fire was a distraction to keep us from focusing on the fact that
they know I'm an imposter” The Rebels wanted to destroy the order of things and
making both the Cult and the Empire crumble would ensure the chaos they would
need to reshape the world “I'll be brought down, sooner or later, and they'll
try to make you fall too”
 
James sighed “I know” Absentmindedly, he squeezed softly Q’s hand in an attempt
at comforting him: he wasn't good with words - especially compared to Q - and
he had always trusted more physical contact; lying with bodies was way more
difficult than with one's voice.
 
“This is weird” Q stated, frowning slightly as he uncurled himself. He held up
their entwined hands to show James his point “I've never done this”
 
The real wonderment and confusion in the younger man's voice made James’
stomach twist uncomfortably as the familiar anger simmered low in his lungs,
making it almost difficult to breathe “Do you like it?”
 
“It's not as bad as it was in the beginning” The former High Priest had never
held Q's hand so, the affectionate gesture hadn't been tainted by his
perversion; apart from the itching feeling the physical contact roused in him,
handholding didn't seem too bad - especially since James hadn't grabbed his
hand and started to tug him around, but had let him take the lead of their
interaction “Does my hand feel sweaty or icky?” he asked, afraid that his hold
might be uncomfortable for James.
 
“Not at all. Your hand is very smooth and dry, a bit cold” James reassured him;
he wanted to tell Q to just relax and enjoy such a natural thing as holding
hands - but nothing regarding normal physical interactions was normal for Q,
who had learnt to fear touch so early in his life “You're doing great, don't
worry” He smiled tenderly, rubbing his thumb over his knuckles; Q's hand
twitched a bit in his, but slowly relaxed once the harmless contact registered
in his mind.
 
“This is hardly proper”
 
“Nobody here cares about propriety, Q”
 
They fell silent. It was comfortable and light, despite the issues weighing
down on their shoulders; both were used to always be open and communicative in
public, pillars of stability and comfort for people. It was tiring in the long
run, more so for Q than for James: people came to the High Priest in search of
salvation, while they went to the King for the resolution of more practical
problems - an easier burden, certainly.
 
From the other side of the field, Revered Tanner and Mallory covertly observed
the two men, while also keeping an eye on Basil who was exploring the edge of
the forest, peering in the emerald shaded darkness amidst the trees.
 
“This is not the kind of alliance I hoped for” Gareth stated, not unkindly but
clearly disapproving of the unexpected course the political alliance had taken
“It won't end well” He frowned and focused on the priest standing next to him
in his stark white robe decorated at the hem with a silvery filigree.
 
Bill sighed “Neither did I, actually” he concurred, a sad frown marring his
usually distended forehead. On the one hand, he couldn't help being happy at
the image of Q slowly opening himself to touch while on the other one, he knew
that physical closeness to the King wasn't proper for the High Priest of the
Cult: he couldn't afford his purity to be doubted, especially in those times of
unrest “I can assure you though, that his Grace has no intention of tricking
his Highness: he's genuine in his interactions with the King”
 
Gareth nodded, his eyes focused on the way James smiled at the young High
Priest. He couldn't offer the Revered the same certainty: Vesper's spectre
still haunted James, in a way that made it difficult to tell what exactly he
saw when he looked at the beautiful young man with the pale skin and the
ringlets of black hair, framing green irises and  melancholic features “I
suppose we'll see how this situation plays out in the end”
 
In the distance, James slowly slid closer to Q and braided daisies in his
curls, nodding at whatever the other man was saying.
 
Chapter End Notes
     Daisies have a multitude of meanings: innocence (especially those
     with an extremely pale centre), purity, true love (because each daisy
     flower is really two flowers blended together in harmony), new
     beginnings and that the person gifting them can keep a secret.
***** 12 *****
Chapter Summary
     Q hoped with all of himself that he was just hallucinating the lips
     mockingly kissing his cheek.
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes
                                      12
The Temple was brimming with acolytes - a bright sea of people clad in oranges
and yellows, crowned in pale lotuses that shadowed everyone's faces with their
large petals - and above them stood tall the High Priest, a beatific smile
painted in rusty reddish-brown on his lips and hands dripping with golden paint
so thick that could have been blood. Q shone as bright as the Sun the acolytes
of the Cult were celebrating, surrounded by the foggy halo of incense burning
upon the altars and that somehow made him seem even more of a deity amongst
humans.
James couldn't help letting a bitter smirk blossom on his mouth: he supposed
that the Cult wasn't able to avoid that bit of useless dramatics, even when at
its head there was someone as sombre and collected as Q. Despite that, the
ceremony managed to capture his interest for the first time in many years and
he actually paid attention, helped by Basil who dutifully whispered in his ear
what a particular gesture or sentence meant: the kid was remarkably instructed
when it came to religious matters and James didn't actually know what to make
of it - surely, he hoped that the kind of worship Basil had developed towards Q
wouldn't lead him to choose a path in the Cult.
The celebrations were making everyone clearly giddy and when Q smiled, his
teeth gleamed as white as pearls in the swirling darkness silhouetting his thin
body. As far as James could remember, the Rebirth was one of the few truly
joyous festivities in the Cult's repertoire and it lacked the aura of impending
doom that usually made James wonder what people actually saw in the frigid
Eternal.
"What is it that is supposed to be born again?" Alec inquired discreetly,
trying not to attract Mallory's resigned glare upon himself: according to the
advisor, that kind of knowledge should have been instilled already in his mind
since a long time, quite an important part in his education "I mean, isn't the
Eternal supposed to be... eternal?"
James made sure to keep his eyes on the High Priest as he turned his head
slightly to answer Alec's inquiry "The Sun - apparently the Cult doesn't wait
the full blooming of the warm season to celebrate the lengthening of days"
Before Alec could say anything incriminating in the middle of mass, James
nudged him with his elbow "I know: it doesn't make sense"
As if hearing their murmured words, Q's brilliant green eyes looked at them:
the glance didn't linger like it would have, had they been in the privacy of a
locked room but still James felt himself captivated by the intensity of the
universe shimmering in the pitch blackness of his pupils.
"Easy for you to endure this: you're admiring the view" Alec teased lightly,
nodding towards the High Priest in a way that clearly suggested how it was Q's
enticing appearance that was holding James' attention. Beneath the careless
words though, Alec was worried about the focus with which his friend seemed
fixated on the High Priest - a young man who had been so thoroughly broken in
order to become an untouchable and living shrine to a deity: the King was
setting himself for heartbreak and didn't even seem to realise it.
Covertly, Alec looked around them in search of suspicious and knowing gazes;
unsurprisingly, his hawkish eyes found them: people were bound to start being
perplexed by the way the King looked at the High Priest and their publicly
displayed bond didn't do anything to assuage the fears that the two men were
involved in something unholy - after all, nobody had ever resisted the King's
artful seduction.
It was dangerous - rarely devotees took well the falling from grace of an Idol,
especially one as well liked as Q. The situation was made worse by the subtle
war between the Cult and the Empire, something that wouldn't be forgotten by
the people only because the King seemed to get along better with the new High
Priest: if Q and James weren't careful, it was bound to end in blood - the
Rebels surely wouldn't throw away such a fortuitous set of circumstances and
they'd use the brimming scandal to finally erase the order of things.
"Uncle Alec, stop frowning so much" Basil muttered, almost climbing in the
other man's lap to attract his attention; the ceremony was starting to bore
him, protracting too long in the afternoon when he just wanted to spar with
Alec and Eve or sleep under a tree in the garden.
Alec looked down at Basil and smiled at him "I'm sorry, I was distracted"
"Was it a bad thought? It looked like a bad thought"
Alec nodded "Yes, it wa-"
"FOR THE NEW WORLD!" the disembodied shout cut off Alec's words and he
instinctively jumped up, hand tucking Basil behind his back to protect him
while he tried to understand what was happening: black capes emerged from under
brightly coloured garments, swarming the Great Hall of the Temple, screams of
terror started to fill the room - never before Alec had missed the chorus of a
prayer being uttered.
James rose from his seat, flintlock pistol already in hand and aimed at the
black-caped figures trying to get close to Q who, instead of finding refuge in
the labyrinthic innards of the Temple, was trying to save as many people as
possible, hastily directing them towards safe rooms "RUN! Q, RUN AWAY!" James
shouted to make himself be heard over the noise, uncaring that so many people
would acknowledge he was on a first name basis with the High Priest and draw
their malicious conclusions.
Q briefly turned his head and shook it, the lotuses falling to the earth like
snow: he couldn't leave his people alone. He couldn't understand how he hadn't
noticed the black capes hiding in the audience, clearly waiting for the apex of
the celebration to break their peaceful gathering and create chaos - he should
have seen them and, somehow, helped the people to escape before the Temple
turned in a slaughterhouse; when blood spattered on his cheek, Q flinched and
he almost lost his balance and fell into the panicking crowd: the King and many
other guards were shooting at anyone suspicious coming near him, creating an
almost ritualistic circle of dead bodies around the altar "STOP IT!" Q screamed
to nobody in particular, just hoping that he would be heard and obeyed.
"I need to go to Q" James growled to Alec before tugging Basil close and
entrusting him to Mallory's care "Get out of here!"
"I can fight!" the advisor complained, but he hoisted a crying Basil in his
arms and made him tuck his head in his chest where it would be best shielded:
he would protect the boy with his body if he had to.
"JUST GO!" There wasn't any time to worry about protecting Basil too and, while
being a skilled fighter, Mallory's true worth sat in his organisational and
diplomatic skills: in case James fell or was seriously injured, the Palace
needed the advisor to keep working like the oiled machine that it was. So,
James ordered him to run before turning to face the enemies, drawing his sword
when the pistol ran out of bullets and charging towards the rebels in an
attempt at defending his people.
When he raised his eyes, Q had disappeared: there was only chaos and emptiness
left in his stead: he had failed him.
===============================================================================
Q had passed out when someone had rudely grabbed him, fingers digging in his
muscles like fiery brands that made him desperate to get away from the searing
sensation: in that moment, his mind had regressed to that of a child and he
couldn't do anything but try to wriggle away, while his mind tricked him into
thinking it was the former High Priest holding him prisoner against his chest,
like it had happened so many other times in the past - a never-ending abuse
looping in his brain, even when he had seen the man's ashes scatter in the
wind.
Q came to in a dark cell, trembling with a mixture of fear and cold that made
his muscles lock almost painfully and his bones ache; no matter how hard he
tried to peer in the darkness, his pupils were filled by a thick wall of solid
shadows - seemingly even more suffocating when humidity started to slither down
his throat and stuck to his skin like a veil, slowly chocking him - the fact he
couldn't get rid of the slimy feeling because his hands had been bound behind
his back, it didn't help at all.
Q managed to restrain himself from asking where he was: firstly, he didn't
believe someone was actually guarding him in that moment and secondly, if he
was wrong and someone was watching him, he didn't want them to know he had
regained his consciousness yet. It was an instinct personal experience had
sadly instilled in him and Q would comply to it, knowing it to be a good move:
it gave him the advantage to understand the situation and try to make some sort
of escape plan before his captors could fling themselves upon him like vultures
hungering for a fresh meal.
Not that there was much to understand: he had been kidnapped by the Rebels and
left in a dark cellar to wait - for what or whom, he could get begin to think
about without panic seizing his mind.
Q tugged hopelessly at the ropes, gritting his teeth as they scraped against
the sensitive and delicate flesh of his wrists, in a vain attempt at freeing
himself.
"I would stop that, if I were you"
The voice whispering in his ear made Q freeze and strain in his bounds to hear
more: he hadn't even perceived the man walk towards him, nor had he heard the
sound of a door creaking open. Q had completely been unpleasantly surprised by
his captor's appearance and he didn't like the feelings that oily voice was
provoking in him, making repulsion and terror seep straight into his marrow.
"Now, there's no need to be so frightened" the man chuckled, his breath
brushing the shell of Q's ear "I just want to have a little chat" he added, the
words filling the air in a mock hurt tone.
"Do you, really?" As soon as those defiant words escaped his mouth, Q bit down
on his tongue: he remembered that back-talking wasn't any good, that it would
land him only worse punishment.
But the man in the dark only laughed, a cruel and deep-seated sound that echoed
around the walls of the room, making Q understand just how small the space he
had been imprisoned in was "Oh, yes - I really do"
Q hoped with all of himself that he was just hallucinating the lips mockingly
kissing his cheek. 
                                        
Chapter End Notes
     Lotuses symbolise letting go of the past.
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