Georg remembers the first time he and Alfred had a real talk. How Alfred had pulled him close and held him tight, and how that action felt like it melted away, at least temporarily, all his woes.
And so he takes the stack of books from Alfred's lap to set aside and pulls him close, to rest in his lap, held against his chest while Georg gently strokes his back.
"It will take some time, I'm sure. But Herbert and I will be here to remind you, every day."
And so he takes the stack of books from Alfred's lap to set aside and pulls him close, to rest in his lap, held against his chest while Georg gently strokes his back.
"It will take some time, I'm sure. But Herbert and I will be here to remind you, every day."
The gesture, the confession touches Georg's cold, dead heart in a way he hadn't expected. He and Sarah desire each other, certainly. And perhaps will one day grow to love each other. But what he feels for Alfred is so different from what he feels for Sarah, and it startles and confuses him.
Softly, gently, he presses a kiss to Alfred's hair. "And I you, my dear boy."
Softly, gently, he presses a kiss to Alfred's hair. "And I you, my dear boy."
"Yes of course," he murmurs against Alfred's hair, nuzzling there gently. Enjoying the simple feeling of Alfred's body against his. It feels comfortable, and comfort is something he sorely lacks in.
"You may ask me anything you like. Always."
"You may ask me anything you like. Always."
George chuckles softly and noses at Alfred's temple. "I am, yes. And before you worry too much, both Herbert and Sarah know about my feelings towards you. Herbert suspected already." Sarah didn't quite understand, but she made it clear that so long as Georg kept coming back to her, she didn't much care.
"I saw you in the window of the inn the night you arrived, lit by candlelight. I found you strikingly beautiful."
"I saw you in the window of the inn the night you arrived, lit by candlelight. I found you strikingly beautiful."
"And they will wait, until you're better."
He settles in and gets comfortable as Alfred brushes his hair, humming happily at the feeling of the brush and Alfred's fingers carefully picking through the knots in his hair.
He'd been expecting a French braid, perhaps. But Alfred's parting his hair in a new and different way, and Herbert's brow furrows in confusion. "What are you doing back there, cheri?"
He settles in and gets comfortable as Alfred brushes his hair, humming happily at the feeling of the brush and Alfred's fingers carefully picking through the knots in his hair.
He'd been expecting a French braid, perhaps. But Alfred's parting his hair in a new and different way, and Herbert's brow furrows in confusion. "What are you doing back there, cheri?"
"Well I'd love to see it, when you're done." Alfred's tone goes a long way towards relaxing him, as well. Hearing him sound contented and pleased, not in pain. It gives him hope that Alfred will heal and get better.
"I'm absolutely certain that I will." He reaches back to pat Alfred's knee. He keeps his back straight so that Alfred could properly finish his hair. It's nice, to have a moment like this after such a trying experience. Just a chance to spend some time with Alfred quietly.
Herbert carefully pulls the braid over his shoulder to look at it -- and if his heart were beating it would have stopped in his chest. It's the same braid Solin was constantly making in his hair.
The birthmark, the braid. Alfred calling him my dear. The overwhelming feeling of familiarity and comfort he feels around Alfred. It can't be.
Could it?
"Did you -- Alfred, this looks lovely," he says first, his voice slightly choked. "Did you tell me once, that you had dreams of being in this castle before?"
The birthmark, the braid. Alfred calling him my dear. The overwhelming feeling of familiarity and comfort he feels around Alfred. It can't be.
Could it?
"Did you -- Alfred, this looks lovely," he says first, his voice slightly choked. "Did you tell me once, that you had dreams of being in this castle before?"
"It's just -- " His lower lip trembles and he tries to compose himself. "I was with a boy, when I was young. Before I was turned. He called me my dear, and would braid my hair like this. He had a birthmark like a star. And -- "
A few tears leak out of the corner of his eyes and roll slowly down his cheek and he rests his hand on top of Alfred's. His hands are shaking. His whole body feels like it's shaking, in fact. "You're gentle, like he was. And so, so sweet. You remind me so much of him."
A few tears leak out of the corner of his eyes and roll slowly down his cheek and he rests his hand on top of Alfred's. His hands are shaking. His whole body feels like it's shaking, in fact. "You're gentle, like he was. And so, so sweet. You remind me so much of him."
Edited 2022-01-16 03:51 (UTC)
"I don't know. I don't know what I'm trying to say." He takes Alfred's hand and kisses the back of it, then his palm, with a nervous energy he can't quite shake.
"Simply that there are so many things you do that remind me of him. To many things to ignore any longer. I've been trying my hardest not to compare the two of you, but this -- We'd sit together at the tree where we met, at dusk. And he'd braid my hair just like this for me.
It took my by surprise, that's all. A silly notion, nothing more," he says, trying to smile. Trying to dismiss this nagging feeling that somehow Alfred is Solin.
"Simply that there are so many things you do that remind me of him. To many things to ignore any longer. I've been trying my hardest not to compare the two of you, but this -- We'd sit together at the tree where we met, at dusk. And he'd braid my hair just like this for me.
It took my by surprise, that's all. A silly notion, nothing more," he says, trying to smile. Trying to dismiss this nagging feeling that somehow Alfred is Solin.
"Yes, yes of course." There's a tugging at his chest when he sees Alfred wobble like that. He grips Alfred's shoulders, a little too tight. A little too desperately. "Let's get you down into the crypt, and we'll rest. It's getting close to dawn, anyway."
He's smiling through his tears and he dabs at his eyes a little with his sleeve. "I love you, Alfred. I love you for everything you are. I want you to know that."
He's smiling through his tears and he dabs at his eyes a little with his sleeve. "I love you, Alfred. I love you for everything you are. I want you to know that."
Even though the statement is made tired, on the verge of falling asleep, it's appreciated very much.
He strokes Alfred's cheek and kisses him softly. "I can carry you, my love."
And he stands, lifting Alfred into his arms and cradling him against his chest. Carefully, he carries him down to the crypt, nestling him in the coffin amongst the blankets and pillows. Then he curls up beside him, arms around his waist, head against his chest. Not clinging, not exactly, but certainly holding him close.
He strokes Alfred's cheek and kisses him softly. "I can carry you, my love."
And he stands, lifting Alfred into his arms and cradling him against his chest. Carefully, he carries him down to the crypt, nestling him in the coffin amongst the blankets and pillows. Then he curls up beside him, arms around his waist, head against his chest. Not clinging, not exactly, but certainly holding him close.
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