Sleeping Beast Ch. 05

REMINDER- I write long stories; some parts-- like this one-- don't have naughty bits, but the parts that do will make more sense if you read it all. Also, I'm cheating... AGAIN??? Yup... "Dura" is Russian for Fool ... "Prastite" means Excuse me ... and "Asa" is a phonetic representation of the Bashkir word for Mother ...

--o----O----o--

Troi woke early, leaving Nivid sleeping in his beast-sized feather bed as she glided down around the tower stairs and across the castle to her room. Hoping to make him smile and also to reassure him that her absence was unremarkable, she had folded his discarded loincloth into a pad and rolled the waistband into a rose, which she set atop it. Using a red thread worried from her skirt as a bow, she left it on the mattress near his bushy black head.

Troi smiled as she carried a bucket of reasonably warm water back to her room. The loincloth-rose was a lot of work for such a simple goal, but she imagined happiness was a rare gift in a life like Nivid's. To make up for its former scarcity, Troi planned to supply him with a surfeit of reasons to smile from now on.

When she had to carry the water herself, like today, Troi took a rainbath, standing in the washtub and pouring water over her head. Later today, she'd ask Argus or Talgut to empty the tub for her.

Or maybe Nivid, she thought, smiling widely.

She looked forward to teasing him the way she teased the other two, pretending she'd quit cooking if they didn't genuflect when she entered the room and similar queenly edicts. She wondered if Nivid would pretend to grouse and grumble like the others, playing along, or if he'd go all master-of-the-house on her.

For a second Troi stilled, apprehension oozing through her imagination. It was only a second, though, before she shook her head, chiding herself for foolishness. She need only remember the sight of Nivid on his knees, nearly crying in relief, to know he would never act the bully like some men did. She smiled again, a smaller, secret smile this time. Like some husbands did.

Glancing around the chamber as she tipped another tankard of water over her head, Troi wondered if she'd be sleeping here again. She hoped not: she'd fallen asleep in Nivid's arms more than a few times now, and she couldn't think of anything she'd enjoy more than doing so every night.

In Nivid's arms, Troi slept without dreaming. For the first time since her family died, she felt safe. No one would crawl beneath the covers to force himself upon her. No one would pull her out of bed and bend her over the mattress or shove her to her knees. Nivid would certainly wake her at some point to demonstrate his affection, but nothing he did would be distressing: Troi drifted effortlessly into sated sleep whenever they made love.

Lying in Nivid's arms at night was a kind of comfort she'd never thought to find again. The last person to hold her that way had been Asa, a few days before...

Trembling, Troi's hand stopped halfway to the chest in which she stored her few belongings. Even after pausing to steady herself, a troubling feeling of weakness remained.

She donned her long, loose Bashkir trousers and the calf-length dress she wore over them, wiping away an errant tear. How silly to give in and cry for her family now, she thought, when she was finally free and loved again. She tried to mold her mouth into another smile, but this one didn't want to stay where she put it.

Her mind wandered as she brushed her hair, a hundred strokes on each side the way her mistress had taught her. Between beatings, that was. It was a ritual Troi continued despite its hated origin, because she liked how shiny and soft her hair felt afterward, in comparison to being merely neat after using something like Asa's crude, wide-toothed comb.

The comb's few negative associations were benign, and one corner of Troi's mouth lifted again without coercion as she remembered her mother's exasperation whenever she and Näžibä made daisy crowns. The little ones would forget to take them out and end up with limp, sticky buds and petals tangled in their braids at bedtime. Asa would have to comb them out, whispering the names of all the gods to keep her patience.

Brushing her hair had a sedative effect on Troi's unusually labile state of mind, and her thoughts drifted painlessly from her long-dead sisters to Nivid's wild ebony mane. She'd noticed he usually kept it tied back with a length of rawhide, but his coif was never as neat as his brother's similarly informal queue.

She set the ivory-handled brush aside and looked down at her hands. It couldn't be easy for him to tie it back, to tie anything, with only those two broad, unwieldy fingers on each hand. As she plaited her own hair, she tried to imagine Argus and Nivid sharing such tasks, as she and her sisters used to do. She chuckled, picturing Nivid with a wreath of purple clover wrapped around his horns.

Her laughter died as her question came bouncing back.

How had Argus known that his brother's night-time activities had moved from the utilitarian bench in the corner to a more comfortable setting before the fire?

Troi couldn't imagine Nivid sharing that kind of intimate information any more than she could imagine him and Argus brushing each other's hair, but Argus' attitude had changed the very next morning.

As a matter of fact...

The fingers entwined in her braid halted mid-twist.

How had Nivid known that she was kissing Argus?

The empty pool atop the precipice wasn't visible from the eastern side of the castle, where Nivid spent most of his time.

If he'd been able to see them from inside, why would Nivid have trekked all the way back to the door by the guardroom-- on the eastern end of the castle--- to leave the building? There were two westward-facing doors much, much closer to the cliff, and both were easy to access from anyplace which overlooked the rocky ledge.

Troi returned to braiding her hair more slowly than before, the consternation never quite leaving her olive-skinned face.

--o----O----o--

Argus was disgusted, to say the least, when he woke to find the inside of his trousers crusted with evidence of the eavesdropping he'd done the night before, but his revulsion was gone in an instant, supplanted by a more relevant recollection.

Troi loved Nivid.

Temporarily ignoring his need for clean clothing and hot water, Argus folded his good arm in half to serve as an extra pillow beneath his head.

His left arm lay motionless at his side.

After deciding the bone was fractured, Talgut had split some smallish tree limbs in half and bound them to Argus' forearm with strips of cloth. He'd only just begun the task when Nivid opened his mind to Argus. After dealing with the injury, their thoughts had gone to the woman sleeping atop him and the revelation she'd shared. Argus' face must have reflected the enormity of what he'd heard, because Talgut stopped working to hear the story.

His skepticism had been nearly as extreme as theirs. "She loves him?"

Argus nodded.

Talgut didn't go back to binding the arm right away. He stared at Argus, who was staring at nothing.

When Nivid took over the pain of his broken arm, Argus had been momentarily reminded of how things used to be. After their parents died, they'd done everything together: hunted and killed game, sought and claimed women, they ran in the taiga, they read books and ate in the kitchen. When had that changed? What had happened to divide their mind?

Talgut interrupted those ancient memories."That's what will break the curse, da?" he asked. "True love?"

Argus nodded, his mind skipping unhelpfully between topics.

"But-- you're still in his head..."

Once more, Argus nodded, his attention returning to his friend, who'd managed to highlight the most significant aspect of Troi's disclosure. Against all hope, defying every bit of predictable human logic, Nivid had managed to find true love. Yet the curse remained unbroken.

Argus lifted one brow in an ironic acknowledgment. "Yes, but she doesn't love me."

Talgut's eyes went back to the pile of faded wool he'd been using to brace the arm, and Argus knew they were thinking the same thing: breaking the curse he and Nivid shared had seemed like such an impossible task, none of them had fully considered its corresponding cure. True love would also have to be shared.

In the quiet kitchen, Argus had no problem hearing the breath when it caught in Talgut's throat. He smiled weakly. "Da... whoever thought I'd be the difficult one to love?"

-o-

The next morning, in his dirty drawers and warm bed, Argus lay thinking on the same thing, his injured arm laying quietly alongside his body. The pain was negligible when he didn't move, and Argus wasn't worried. He'd fractured a bone in his leg years ago, and fancied that was far more trouble than the arm would be. He'd ask Troi to make him one of her healing teas later on.

He smiled slightly, thinking how he'd tease her for having trounced him. His smile widened. That was nothing compared to what Talgut would put her through.

Talgut had initially refused to believe the tale Argus told him. He doubted-- quite vociferously-- both Troi's ability to topple the younger Denova and whether she suffered from the degree of lunacy necessary to throw herself in front of a charging Nivid.

Neither Talgut nor Argus had ever seen him so enraged.

In Talgut's case, that was understandable: by the time he arrived, Nivid was past the horror of his changing years. He and Argus had begun to develop a routine to cope with the curse's most violent demands. Argus himself had been spared was due mostly to the kindness of the beast, as odd as it seemed. Even as overwhelmed as he'd been during that period of his life, Nivid had spent the last portion of his humanity protecting his younger brother from the knowledge of what happened during the howling bouts of insanity he suffered. Nivid locked Argus out completely, though they hadn't done so up until that point.

Argus shifted uncomfortably atop the covers.

Nivid wouldn't need words to be aware how deeply Argus regretted his behavior, but Argus knew he'd have to offer a formal apology before he'd allow himself to be forgiven. He wished he could attribute his trespass to negligence or misunderstanding, to say he hadn't even considered Nivid's feelings, but it wasn't true. Nivid had never cared if Talgut or Argus sampled a woman's favors while he slept, but they all knew Troi was different.

Argus grimaced. More than his cum-soaked trousers, this failure disgusted him. Nivid, a creature ruled almost entirely by instinct, had protected him, but Argus had been too weak to reciprocate by staying out of Nivid's head and away from his woman.

Even the pain of his broken arm hadn't prevented Argus from feeling Nivid's astonishment-- and his joy-- when he opened his mind last night.

Troi loved Nivid.

There was no doubt about it. They'd seen her surprise and her sincerity, and the way both were followed by a look of complete contentment.

Now, with the bond closed and Nivid still sleeping, Argus could examine the other half of the discovery.

Troi would be staying at Zamok Denova.

Argus rolled toward his healthy arm and put his feet to the floor to begin the long, annoying process of getting clean and clothed. His new room was closer to the kitchen, at least, so he wouldn't have to carry the water very far. It was both bigger and nicer than his first floor tower room, too. Along with beautiful views of the valley, the small chamber at the rear of the castle boasted a tall window facing west which admitted the last golden light of the setting sun. It was also less drafty than the tower, which was in the oldest part of the castle, and it would be much warmer come winter-time.

All of that was pleasant, but incidental. The chamber's most attractive attribute was the buffer it put between Argus and the guardroom where the lovers trysted.

When Troi decided it was time to complete her metamorphosis from concubine to amoureuse, Argus had altogether stopped accompanying her. Realistically, he could have quit the day after her arrival. Nivid was already enamored of her then and would never have been careless, but Argus was so used to thinking of his brother as a wild animal that it had taken time to truly see the change. After their first kiss before the fireplace, all doubt was gone.

Not only did Argus quit lingering outside the room at that point, he got as far away as he could without leaving the castle, removing himself from temptation's easy reach. Spying on his brother's life had implications more damaging than unclean pants. Like yesterday, for instance.

As much as Argus disdained what his brother had become, Nivid's failings weren't within his control. Argus, however, could choose to surrender will alone, leaving his consciousness behind Nivid's nightly jaunts. He'd been disturbingly reluctant to do so since Troitsa's arrival.

From his new bedchamber, Argus could more easily block his other half, and if he was already asleep, the couple's love-play didn't wake him. Events would still be there later on, but dulled like the memory of an old dream. It made Argus' life-- and his unrequited love-- just slightly easier to bear.

And temptation easier to withstand.

Moving as little as possible, Argus got to his feet and began the unpleasant, happily short journey to the kitchen for the water he needed to wash away his sins.

--o----O----o--

When Argus arrived in the kitchen for the second time that morning, clean and clothed, Troi and Talgut were arguing, which was almost an hourly occurrence at Zamok Denova. They stood shoulder-to-shoulder as they bickered, another typical attribute of their squabbles. Argus sometimes caught one of them suppressing a grin as he or she stormed away, supposedly in disgust. Weeks ago, he'd decided they were siblings at heart and largely stopped listening, but he caught a few words of their newest tiff when he arrived.

"If you want something other than boar and panbread, you are welcome to leave without breakfast," Troi remarked tartly. "Perhaps hunger will hurry your feet on the path to town as you fetch me back the chickens you failed to get yesterday."

"And whose fault is that, woman?" he grumbled. "I couldn't go because I was busy righting the ruckus you caused while you and Nivid lolled abed--"

"Dobraye utra," Argus greeted them loudly as he entered, interrupting whatever crude comment Talgut might have planned.

Troi returned his greeting without turning away from the summer stove, but Talgut shot Argus a scornful sideways glare. He took pity on his friend's disability and fixed him a cup of tea before joining him at the table, though.

Wrapping a folded dishcloth around the long handle of the deep cast-iron pan, and using a wad of her apron to protect her other hand, Troi turned slowly away from the stove-- and saw the bulky binding on Argus' arm.

She thunked the pan onto the nearest empty surface, where it almost sloshed its boiling contents onto Talgut.

"Durah!" he growled.

Troi held Argus' arm gently, tugging at the wrapping near his wrist to check for swelling or discoloration.

"Prastite," she mumbled automatically in response to Talgut's indignant exclamation.

Coming suddenly to her senses, she lowered herself to the bench seat. "Argus, I'm so sorry I hurt you."

She noted how tired he looked. The injury must have pained him throughout the night. "I'm sorry--"

She glanced at Talgut, who was hunched over, his nose obscured in steam from the bowl below his chin.

"--I'm sorry for everything." She met Argus' eyes with sincere regret, though she wasn't honestly sorry about everything. She'd meant what she said about staying.

She was sorry he'd been injured, however, and she ardently wished she hadn't put her hand on him. She'd been vexed with him for acting as though he knew what was best for her, but she shouldn't have emphasized the nature of his affection when she had no intention of carrying on that sort of relationship with him. She'd been both disloyal to Nivid and unkind to her friend.

Argus placed his good hand lightly over hers, "Troi, you needn't apologize. Your bravery no doubt saved my life: Nivid was exceptionally-- murderously--- angry. Also," he glanced down at the table, swallowed a lump of craven hesitation, and added, "your statement was not without foundation."

Her sense of culpability scattered before the whistling wind of her earlier questions landing amidst a host of brand-new misgivings. Her nostrils flared and tiny lines appeared at the outer corners of her eyes, belying her age and normally tender nature.

Why would Nivid tell Argus what they had done in their private time together?

If they thought to share her...

Troi pulled her hands back into her own lap.

If that were the case, Nivid wouldn't have been angry yesterday, would he?

"How did Nivid know we were kissing?" she asked.

Trying hopelessly to gather his wits, Argus noted that Troi wasn't worried about Talgut's presence any more. That was a bad sign. He opened his mind, feeling the confusing jolt of Nivid's reaction to the scene seeping back to him a second later.

"Did you plan that incident at the cliff?" Her voice rose and her cheeks pinkened as suspicion accumulated.

"Nyet, Troitsa." Argus tried to speak soothingly, which was difficult, as he was fighting to control both Nivid's anxiety and his own through the dulling fog of fatigue which enveloped him whenever Nivid was awake and alert. "I did not. We did not."

From the corner of his eye, Argus saw Talgut lingering over the bowl, his spoon aloft and forgotten.

Talgut was astounded. Argus had told him the bare bones of what had gone on yesterday. That was enough for him to know Argus' own emotions were involved, and he'd resolved not to bring it up again, but there was no way for him to avoid it now.

Troi might not realize what that expression signified, but Talgut could see from the distance in Argus' eyes that he was in contact with Nivid, and that Nivid was awake, too. Since Argus said Troi meant to stay at the castle, and she'd obviously guessed that some subterfuge was afoot, Talgut suspected Argus and Nivid planned to tell Troi the whole truth about the curse.

They'd never told anyone the whole truth about the curse.

Other than Nivid, Argus, and Talgut, only one other person knew the whole story, and that was the witch who'd cast the spell, if that old baba was even still alive. Nivid's women had been told very little. Until now.

Talgut set his spoon down.

When Argus avoided her gaze, Troi stood, glaring down at him. He reached for her wrist, but she snatched it away, planting her hands on her hips.

"Troi--" Argus stopped. Arguing was not the way to go about this. His tone softened. "Troi, whatever you think we did, the answer is probably no."

He held up a hand, forestalling her next comment. "Which is not to say we haven't sinned, against you in particular."

He was nearly here.

"There are things about the curse I didn't tell you--"

Talgut and Troi looked away as Nivid strolled in through the kitchen door, looking for all the world like he ate here every morning. Save for the intensity of the gaze he leveled on Troitsa, it seemed like this was a perfectly normal visit.

Argus felt their shared look and didn't bother to hide his envy from Nivid this time. Today, they needed to be together and at their best. As determined as he'd been to see her leave, Argus was equally as insistent now about the need for Troi to stay. She loved Nivid. He wouldn't deny his brother that miracle, whether it freed either one of them or not.