Vermilion ~ Twenty-Three: Musician

[annarti.livejournal.com]

The musician and the singer were in the afters room beside the grand dining hall. The servants had lit the fire for them not long ago, and the room was already warming up. The room was empty but for the two of them. They had been served an early dinner, much the same as what the noble guests were to be eating but with lesser cuts of meat. With the plates now cleared and the fire crackling, there would be no disturbances until they were called to provide the evening’s entertainment.

The musician danced his fingers over the strings of his violin as he warmed up for the evening, while the singer rolled up and down through his scales. The guests were only just beginning to gather in the parlour on the other side of the dining hall.

The singer paused in his scales turning to the fire with his hands on his hips.

‘What’s wrong?’ the musician asked, not pausing in his own practice.

‘Nothing wrong,’ the singer replied, then turned around with a smile. ‘I have a surprise for you.’

This did give the musician pause, and he lowered his violin to his lap. It wasn’t often that the younger man would break out of the peace of his vocal warm ups.

He reached behind the sofa to pick up a long, cloth-wrapped bundle that he passed to the musician, then sat down next to him, their thighs just touching. The musician smiled at the gesture. Clearly, then, this was something special.

He carefully unwrapped the bundle, displaying a polished flute of dark blackwood and glittering silver keys. He ran his fingers reverently over the keys, speechless at the sheer beauty of the instrument. Without a word, he turned to his right, caught the singer’s jaw lightly in his fingers and his lips with his own.

The musician held there for a moment, warmed by the singer’s presence, the light touch of contact between them.

‘Will you play it?’ the singer asked as he broke contact with his fiancé.

‘It’s beautiful,’ the musician confirmed. He lifted the instrument, moistened his lips and held the mouthpiece to them. With a deep breath, he blew a tremulous note on the flute. Shifted his fingers, for a second and a third note. He didn’t follow any tune, for he knew none for the flute, simply listened to its delicate, breathy sound that conjured up images of tossing autumn leaves, racing white clouds and rolling savanna grasses.

Even when he took the flute down, its spell didn’t break, echoing in his mind with the dull background roar of the fire.

The singer swallowed and shifted a little closer. ‘You’ve always said you wanted to learn to play the flute.’

He nodded and again caressed the instrument. ‘I do, even more, now. I only wish I knew a melody, just one, so we could play it tonight. Thank you, my everything.’

The singer smiled and rested his head against the musician’s shoulder. ‘I was so worried. I know nothing of flutes. The merchant says it comes from Westwood, up in the mountains. Are they known for their flutes?’

‘For all woodwinds,’ the musician confirmed. ‘However did you find this?’

‘There’s a visiting merchant in town today,’ the singer replied, rubbing his hand against the musician’s thigh. ‘I know I don’t normally follow them, but a few of the townspeople said he had some beautiful instruments, so I had a look and, well, the flute looked perfect. It was my brother who finally convinced me to buy it.’

‘I’m glad that he did.’ He kissed the singer once more, turning his body to the side to position himself more comfortably. ‘If only I could buy something of such beauty for you,’ he murmured against his fiancé’s lips.

‘Mmm,’ the singer hummed quietly. It was all the musician could do to keep this chaste, to keep his hands off that beautiful body. He held his free hand to the singer’s back, lightly massaging his spine in his desire to get closer, but equally conscious of their upcoming performance. They had to remain presentable for such an event. Not the slightest ruffled clothes would do, and so, he restrained himself and held himself back to only a kiss.

He caught sight of a flash of red from the corner of his eye, then, but just this once he chose to pretend he hadn’t seen it. It was only a kiss they shared, after all.

‘Why would you give me such temptation now?’ he asked.

The singer laughed, deep and musically in the back of his throat, and gave no more answer than that. The sound sent shivers over the musician’s spine, and he pressed harder against the singer’s back to pull him closer.

‘Mmm, wait,’ the singer breathed. ‘We’ll be called any moment now. What if Vermilion sees?’

‘He already has,’ the musician replied.

The singer gave his deep, breathy laugh, then apparently registered his fiancé’s words. He started back, lips reluctantly letting go as he spun towards the door.

‘M-Master Candlewood,’ he stammered, as though they had been caught in something far more scandalous than a kiss. ‘I’m sorry. We were… um… I… Gods. How long have you been there?’

‘Not long,’ Vermilion said with his languid smile and a shrug of one shoulder. He was dressed in a different coat tonight, a set of tails in his favoured orange-tinged red to match the one the townsfolk knew him for. The musician wondered if he wanted all of Llayad to call him Vermilion, not just the residents of Candlewood. He certainly liked to make an impression, and the red and black ensemble would doubtless turn every head in the room towards him. Though the musician had already found his beloved, he could nevertheless recognise the attraction in a man like Master Vermilion.

‘The flute had its desired effect, I see.’

‘Oh, gods.’

The musician laughed and brushed a finger across the blush spreading over his partner’s cheeks. ‘If he had thought anything amiss,’ he reminded him, ‘he would have said something by now.’

‘Quite right, too,’ Vermilion agreed. ‘I’ll admit, it’s a guilty pleasure of mine, admiring public displays of affection. There is nothing so pure as a couple forgetting their surroundings, losing themselves in each other to the exclusion of all others.’ His teasing smile softened to one more genuine. ‘You’re both so lucky to have found something so beautiful.’

The musician smiled back, bowing his head in acknowledgement. ‘I know,’ he said, reaching over to peck again at the singer’s lips. The singer gasped and hid his face in his hands. Sensing the discomfort of his fiancé, the musician stood and wrapped the flute back up, then picked up his violin to resume his finger exercises.

Vermilion was still looking on in what looked like admiration.

‘You’ll find it, too, Master Candlewood,’ the musician promised him.

‘I’m hoping I already have,’ the master continued with an uncomfortable shrug. ‘It’s asking that’s the hardest part, I’ve found. The heart-clenching fear and all those scenarios, the way your mind plays over and over, the word “no” on her lips.’

‘Will you ask tonight, master?’ the musician asked. ‘If it’s not too bold a question.’

‘I plan to,’ Vermilion replied, stuffing his hands into his pockets. ‘Which of you asked for courtship?’

The singer lifted his hand, having apparently recovered from his earlier embarrassment. ‘I did,’ he confessed. ‘But he asked for marriage. The best way, I think, is to force the doubt behind. Instead of wondering, “what if he says no?” try asking yourself the opposite.’

‘”What if she says yes,”’ Vermilion murmured, almost to himself, and a faint smile crossed his lips. ‘I hope to steal away and ask for courtship as everyone moves here to the afters room after dessert. If you see me here, please do give me a nudge, won’t you?’

The musician grinned. ‘Anything to make the asking easier, sir. Might you have a requested tune for your triumphant return and announcement?’

‘To the truth, I haven’t allowed myself to think so far ahead.’

‘The Doves has always been our favourite,’ the musician suggested, when the master said nothing.

He shook his head. ‘Well, then, I can’t very well play your song. I’ll leave it for you to select one, then. If I return to the afters room with a love on my arm, play it for me.’

The musician bowed his deference.

‘In the meantime,’ Vermilion went on, straightening to show himself more presentable, ‘we all have guests to entertain. Gentlemen?’ He opened the door to the hallway to usher them out.

The musician took his lead, and awaited his fiancé on the way out. The master led them to the parlour, and the musician reached out to take the singer’s hand for a last encouraging squeeze.

The singer pulled his hand away.

The musician frowned and turned in shock, seeing only professional calm on his partner’s face.

‘Vermilion might admire public displays of affection,’ he almost snarled, ‘but I find them profoundly uncomfortable, especially if I’m made to be one of the participants. I’ll have words with you after the performance, but please, until then, please respect my wishes.’

The musician bowed his head in guilt. ‘I know. I’m sorry for putting you in such a position. Can you forgive me?’

‘Of course, but I’ll still have words.’

They stood at the double doors, with the two attendants ready to swing them open and Vermilion just as ready to announce them.

‘I love you,’ the musician said in a whisper.

He didn’t hear any reply from his partner as the doors opened.

A good portion of the nobility had gathered in the parlour, though the musician recognised there were still some missing. He and his partner strode elegantly behind the master, neither giving the slightest hint that they were engaged as they were led to their small stage.

It was little more than a raised dais covered with a lavish carpet, but it felt grand enough to the musician.

‘Ladies and gentlemen,’ Vermilion announced from the front of the stage. ‘Might I have your attention, please? It is my pride and pleasure to introduce you now to Candlewood’s own duet, here to perform for you a number of their own compositions as well as some old favourites. Please, make them welcome.’

The polite applause of those who did not yet know what they were to be treated to pattered around the room, and the musician bowed deeply beside his partner.

They straightened and awaited the silence, then the musician lifted his violin to his chin. He glanced to his partner for that silent beat before they began, and was astounded when he was treated to the words.

‘I love you, too.’

~ ~ ~

note~ this chapter was written out of sequence. Find the next chapter here, not by clicking 'next entry', or you'll miss the entire party!

Comments

[ladylight.livejournal.com]

*still muttering darkly about measly nine-dollar flutes*

[annarti.livejournal.com]

*patpats*