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Autsu was warm with content. Oh, this was not to say that he was comfortable, exactly. Indeed, he could find no way to lean against his right arm that did not call up an ache that echoed the rough match he and Kian had enjoyed not ten minutes prior. It was the very lack of comfort that led to the content, though. It was the fact of the sparring and of Kian's current nearness. It was the safety and warmth imbued in the Unit (thanks, in part, to Lissel's constant redecorating), so that he felt that he could sit here, bruised, battered, tired, and still be safe.

If he was on guard, and one could assume he was, it was only in the passive way that a mind such as his was always on guard. He had a book out and open across his knees, and his brow was furrowed as he tripped his way through its tangled phrases. It was, theoretically, a book on the uses and effects of caste systems in various cultures across time and space. He was sure it was fascinating, and enlightening. He was not, however, sure what the hell it was talking about. He read on anyway.

Without moving more than his eyes, he glanced over at Kian, and his gaze lingered there a moment. They had come a long way from chasing Jii through the park, and debating the possibly diabolical nature of Halloween costumes. They had built this place, the two of them. Not with out help, but this was their sanctuary, and Autsu was proud of it. Proud of the both of them, in his way.

And then...

A trick of the light. Or of memory. Or perhaps somewhere, very far a way, there was a prince screaming at a mage, and almost, almost doing the impossible. Reopening a dead connection. The source was unimportant. For a moment, the black band on his finger seemed red, and Autsu went from lazy content to sharp, nervous tension.

This wasn't his.

It could never be his. Not really.

It could be tomorrow. Or a week. Or a year. Or tonight. If nothing else, he owed it to what they'd built to be sure that it continued in his absence. And he could not continue this way... shadowed by a future created in the past and never speaking of it.

He let the book fall closed.

"Anne." His voice was empty. Hollowed out.

Well, he had Kian's attention, at least. That was a start. His eyes fell to his hand again, and he turned it in the light. No. The ring was black. It had not flickered to red a moment ago. He could yet back down, leave the subject unspoken, and so remain, to some extent, safe. Content. He was not displeased with this new contentment, excepting the inevitable knowledge of its temporary nature.

No. There'd be no backing down. He was Sethos's brother, and so appriciated the power of words, spoken and left silent. He feared the power these words might gain, left unspoken too long.

Briefly, he toyed with the idea of a hypothetical. He could ask, perhaps, what Kian would do if he were gifted the ability of return. But no. Because it didn't matter what Kian would do. It wasn't Kian facing this decision. It was Autsu, and there was no decision, despite the illusion of choice he'd allowed himself. The plans were made.

"I would speak with you." He began, carefully. Important, to approach this the right way. He was not unaware of the possible effects of what he was going to say. "You recall the one I served, Ex'Narin?"

If Autsu had wanted a longer response than the one he'd gotten, he wouldn't have been talking to Kian. He and Kian didn't waste words. That was the point, wasn't it?

But it was hard at this moment to show a similar conservation of language. He found himself wanting to babble on some other subject, to talk of the Unit, or warfare, or... anything. He had not been so unsettled around Kian in a long time. Not since they had settled things between them.

That was the problem, of course. Things were settled between them. They had found a rhythm that worked for both of them, a mixture of violence, camaraderie and sex that suited them both perfectly. This would disrupt that rhythm. Autsu was not entirely sure it would not ruin it.

He shifted nervously, closing his wings and adjusting his sore arm to a new uncomfortable position. So, he might ruin it. The point was that the end of this was inevitable, and if they did not face it now, it would be all the more difficult to face it when the time came.

Narin. The b*****d. He made everything difficult. And even the thought of him still made Autsu feel like he'd had his heart ripped from his chest. Same as the day they'd been caught. Same as it ever would be. That was what love was, apparently. The ability to never heal.

"He contacted me. It has been awhile now. I have spent that time considering what he said."

A pause, inevitable, as he gathered courage. Physical dangers were so simple, really. Either they died, or you did.

"He would have me back."

If Autsu had planned this conversation, he may have prepared for the possible reactions Kian would have to it. But he hadn't planned. He'd only imagined he'd seen something, and then forced himself to say words that had waited too long unsaid. He had not prepared arguments, or counter arguments. He hadn't even prepared to explain himself.

Due to lack of planning he had no idea what Kian was thinking, or how to respond to such a firmly spoken denial. There were times when the two of them could communicate in a glance and a word.

This was not one of those times.

"It is not now." He said, not responding to any of Kian's various denials, apparently. After all, what was there to say to them? Kian would say no and he would say yes and Kian would say no and.... well... it was not a cycle he wanted to enter. Eventually, someone would be punched. But then, maybe that was the best way to settle things.

"It will... take time." That was what Narin had said, that it would take time. He had not said how much. They had been interrupted. "It is possible that it can not be done."

Of course, in the end, none of what he was saying mattered, because it did not change what had already been said. Speaking of time was not the same as speaking of staying.

"Comrade, he is the Prince."

His prince.

Autsu took the words without comment, letting them rain down on him like blows, his expression one of hopeless, patient acceptance. Again, he had no argument to give, no grand defense to raise like a shield against Kian's cutting remarks. He just listened.

And when Kian was done, he was silent a moment, as if waiting for more words to come. He wasn't angry, not in the way he perhaps should have been. He'd been too angry at himself, at Narin, at circumstance for too long. He didn't have any anger left for his comrade, certainly not when Kian's barbs were points he was already familiar with. He'd worked them all out in his head. That was the problem. It just didn't matter.

"I have changed but I am Esuth, still. I took an oath, and I have not been released from it." Another pause, and he lowered his eyes again, studying that damn ring. He raised his head. He was no coward, he could at least face this head on. He would not hide behind the flimsy excuse of a promise made.

"It does not matter, comrade. Oath or not. Low or not. I am not bright, but that does not make me stupid. I know this, now, is better than what I had. But it does not matter."

"He needs me. I am weak, in this." The words he'd used for his father came echoing back, then. "It is in me to bleed for him, until none of me is left, and then find more to give."

What was the right thing to do, then? Run after him perhaps, beg forgiveness. Or stand and fight and defend the point.

But, no. Autsu let the words hit him, let that brief lingering touch scar him, and watched, his expression flat, as Kian walked away. After all, Kian was the only one who'd ever really been able to get a response out of him, be that response a smile or a frown.

So...

Well...

The chains were cut. Or accepted. Hard to tell.

If nothing else, there was nothing to hold him here now.

Narin would be so pleased.

He should have slumped. He should have cried.

But Autsu only sat, with the perfect posture of a soldier, and stared at the wall with empty eyes.