Chapter 6

Emil had finished his sweeping duty and was making his way back through the courtyard when something caught his attention. He saw Beowulf, still sitting on the bench where the noble had left him hours prior, learning forward with his arms resting on his knees, helmet-covered head slightly bowed. Pulling his mouth into a line of concern, Emil wandered over to the large soldier.

“What are you still doing out here, Beowulf?” Emil asked cautiously, looking down at Beowulf’s hunched over form.

Beowulf turned his head upwards to look at Emil through the slit in his visor. “I… I don’t know what to do…” he explained quietly.

“You basically have the rest of the day off, right?” Emil’s tone changed to flippant, and he leaned casually on his broom. “You could do whatever you want! Why waste it just sitting around here like an idiot?”

“Richard said I should consider my mistake… so I have been…” Beowulf said woefully.

Emil made a sound of disapproval. “I don’t think he meant you should sit here and beat yourself up about it for the rest of the day! You should take advantage of your time off,” he suggested lightly.

Beowulf shrugged in response. “I’ve spent every day the past four years with Maerwynn and usually Thedrick too. They are my entire life, and now I can’t see either of them? And I don’t even have a room anymore, I sleep in Maerwynn’s room to keep her safe. Where am I even going to stay tonight?”

Thinking for a moment Emil tried to come up with a solution to Beowulf’s problem. “Well… what about going to see your parents? It must have been a while since you had the chance to visit them?”

Beowulf paused for quite a while before responding. “... It has. Ma and I… haven’t really spoken for a while…” Beowulf muttered, glancing away.

“Oh…” Emil said, realising things were worse for Beowulf than he had thought. “Well… I have the rest of today off, how about you come out to the tavern with me for a drink, try and forget your worries for the evening?”

Beowulf made a noise of uncertainty, still not looking back at Emil yet.

“Come on Beowulf… it’s got to beat sitting around here all night, yeah?” Emil pressed, smiling down at him wryly.

Beowulf sighed. “Alright, I guess that couldn’t hurt…” he agreed hesitantly, and then rose to his feet, Emil having to tilt his head back slightly to look up at him once he stood up straight.

“Great! But you should get changed first,” Emil pointed out with a smirk.

“Huh?” Beowulf made a sound of confusion, looking down at his armour. “Why? I always wear this,” he pointed out flatly.

“Come on Beowulf, you get one night off finally, don’t you want to slip into something more comfortable? I’m not taking you out in your work clothes,” Emil stated firmly, crossing his arms over his chest and frowning up at the large man. “Go on, run along and get changed and I’ll put my broom away and we can meet at the front gate.”

Beowulf looked away again for a moment. “Okay…” he said hesitantly.

Emil gave a sharp nod before picking up his broom and heading off towards the barracks, while Beowulf headed back inside the castle.

Once Emil got back to his bunk he quickly freshened up and put on some nice, neat clothing. Then he hurried out to the castle gates, arriving to find Beowulf waiting for him. The large man looked so strange in just plain linen clothing, as no one ever really saw him out of his armour. His expression looked rather concerned, but he smiled at Emil when he saw him approaching.

“Are those really the only clothes you own?” Emil asked incredulously as he looked the big guy up and down, scowling slightly.

“Y-Yes?” Beowulf offered nervously in response, eyebrows knitting together in worry.

Emil sighed dramatically. “I guess it will have to do. Come on then, let’s go.” With that he started walking out the castle gates, gesturing for the giant soldier to follow him. The corner of Beowulf’s mouth quirked up in a slightly unsure smile, and soon he was walking alongside the noble.

As they walked through town towards the tavern, Emil started complaining about his latest punishment duties from Cassian. Beowulf remained mostly silent, looking down at the smaller man with a slight smile on his face as he listened to his complaints. As Emil was distracted by talking, it felt like hardly any time had passed at all before they were at the doors to the tavern, Beowulf having to duck like with many doors to get inside.

Gesturing to the big guy to follow him, Emil led Beowulf over to a table. “You take a seat and I’ll grab the drinks,” Emil instructed, and quickly wove his way through the other tables and patrons to get to the bar and order. While waiting for the bartender to pour the tankards, Emil glanced back over at Beowulf, who was sitting awkwardly in a chair definitely not built to accommodate someone of his size, looking around the tavern somewhat anxiously as he waited.

Grabbing up the tankards, Emil quickly hurried back over to the table, setting down the drinks before taking a seat himself, across from Beowulf. As Beowulf grabbed up a tankard and started drinking, Emil quickly tried to think of what to talk about, aware that when he had been talking to the large soldier on their way here it seemed to cheer him up a bit. But he didn’t want to just keep complaining about his own problems, or well, he did, but he doubted that would make for a very engaging extended conversation topic.

Emil was surprised when it was actually Beowulf who broke the silence between them. “So Emil… it’s been more than four years, why are you still in the guard? I thought your parents would have brought you home already?”

Emil let out an empty laugh at that. “Apparently they aren’t satisfied with my progress yet… last time I visited them I managed to disappoint them yet again… so it looks like Cassian is stuck with me for now,” he explained vaguely.

“Oh? What did you do?” Beowulf asked with what seemed like genuine curiosity, raising his eyebrows as he drank from the tankard while watching Emil’s expression.

Immediately feeling heat rushing to his cheeks, Emil nearly choked on his drink. He tried not to sputter too much while clearing his throat, before he spoke again. “I got caught… messing around with a… a maid… you know, they don’t really approve of that since they want me to settle down with a proper noble lady,” he explained, not really a lie if you had a more gender-neutral definition for the word ‘maid’.

“Like how you messed around with Thedrick in that secret storeroom?” Beowulf asked, smirking down at Emil.

Emil’s eyes went wide. “I- I- I never said we did that!” he stammered out, his cheeks feeling like they were on fire. He glared up at Beowulf with a mix of horror, anger and indignation.

“Oh? So you two were just playing hide and seek as well?” Beowulf pressed, looking rather smug now.

“I…” Emil tried to come up with some sort of excuse, but couldn’t, so he pouted instead and cast his eyes down at the table, embarrassment washing over him.

“I should have realised there was some sort of history between you two. The other soldiers find him annoying, sure, but no one seems to hate him as much as you do,” Beowulf pointed out. “Did he break it off with you or something?”

“No!” Emil quickly snapped indignantly. “I broke it off with him!”

Beowulf looked slightly taken back by that. “Really? Then why do you hate him so much? What did he do?” Beowulf tried to coax more information from Emil.

“Nothing! He… he didn’t do anything wrong…” Emil trailed off, then swallowed deeply, looking away from Beowulf. “I was just… ashamed… and I blamed him for it…”

“Because of what your parents want?” Beowulf asked, more gently now, and Emil gave a small nod in response, fighting back his emotions which threatened to spill out.

“Ah, I’m sorry Emil, I didn’t mean to make you feel uncomfortable,” Beowulf apologised, probably after realising how badly Emil was struggling to hide how upset he was.

“It’s fine, let me go get us more drinks,” Emil said, quickly getting to his feet and heading for the bar, desperate for a moment to compose himself. He was finding it rather difficult to talk about his past relationship with his crush’s boyfriend, plus constantly feeling the need to repress his desires to please his parents. It was awkward and a little overwhelming, to say the least.

By the time he was heading back to the table he had managed to calm down and pull himself together, and just hoped that Beowulf would leave that topic alone for the moment. Beowulf gave Emil a gentle, reassuring smile, which Emil tried to return in kind. Despite the feelings of humiliation, he wasn’t going to give up this one and perhaps only opportunity he would have to spend time with Beowulf.

Emil placed the next lot of tankards down on the table and Beowulf thanked him while he took a seat again. The big man got stuck into the drinks and the noble followed suit, still not sure what else they could talk about. Emil felt like his mind was blank, especially when he looked at Beowulf’s soft, handsome face. When he looked at Emil so kindly it sent the butterflies in the noble’s stomach into a frenzy.

“S-So, enough about me, what about you Beowulf? Is there anything that you want to get off your chest?”

Beowulf looked uncertain for a moment, quickly turning his attention to his tankard to avoid eye contact. “W-Well… everything has been going pretty well except for today…” he mumbled awkwardly.

“But… what about with your mother, you said you two weren’t talking?” Emil enquired, arching an eyebrow at Beowulf.

Beowulf frowned and sighed. “We haven’t really been talking for the last four years…” he muttered, still avoiding eye contact.

“Why?” Emil asked, curiosity getting the better of him.

“Because she doesn’t like Thedrick,” Beowulf explained plainly. “She was the one who called the vampire hunter to come and kill him, and even though that whole thing was settled she still refuses to let it go.”

Emil remembered back to that incident, just before the princess had been born. He had been in the throne room when it had all gone down, watching from the sidelines. He had seen Beowulf rip the vampire hunter's arm off, which had both terrified and excited him. Emil had never thought soft and sweet Beowulf capable of such a violent act, though it seemed to have taken everyone else by surprise as well.

This got Beowulf started on griping about his mother’s feelings towards Thedrick as they both continued to drink. At one point Emil went and got even more drinks for Beowulf, who kept chugging them steadily, while the noble felt like he had enough himself. Eventually Beowulf started to sway slightly in his chair, and Emil realised they should probably wrap it up before the big guy was unable to walk back to the castle. Gods knew no one would be able to carry him back there.

Letting the big guy lean a bit on him for support, Emil led Beowulf back out of the bar and up the street towards the castle. The last few drinks seemed to be hitting Beowulf hard, as he was almost stumbling as they made their way back. Emil gave a forced smile and a wave to the guards on the front gate as they passed by, who were looking at the pair of them with bewilderment.

Emil guided Beowulf through the castle to the only place he could think to take the big guy: Thedrick’s room. It wasn’t like the jester was using it tonight anyway. 

“Where’s Thedrick?” Beowulf slurred out the question when they stepped into the room, looking around in confusion.

“He’s ah… taking a vacation in the dungeon, remember?” Emil said gently as he helped Beowulf over to the bed then sat him down.

“Oh noooo…” Beowulf moaned out in distress, looking up at Emil with unfocused eyes. “But the dungeon’s too cold for him! He’ll freeze to death!”

“I’m sure he will be fine,” Emil tried to reassure as he helped Beowulf take his boots off.
 

“No, you don’t understand, he’s cold blooded!” Beowulf stated, grabbing hold of Emil’s arm and giving him a beseeching look.

“Huh? What do you mean by that?” Emil asked, pausing in place as he tried to figure out the implication of Beowulf's statement.

“You knowwww,” Beowulf slurred, swaying slightly where he sat, “‘cause he’s a vampire!”

Emil stared at Beowulf with wide eyes, his eyebrows having shot up as far as they could go. Beowulf didn’t really seem to notice Emil’s look of shock.

“Pretty boy… you have to go help Thedrick! Take ‘im a blanket or somethin’... poor little guy must be so cold and alone…” Beowulf continued, his blue eyes filling with tears as he became emotional.

“... alright I will, but let’s get you into bed first big guy,” Emil agreed while his head spun from the revelation Beowulf had just casually dropped on him. He gently tried to push Beowulf down onto the mattress, but as the big man went down, Beowulf reached out and grabbed the noble by the waist, dragging him down on top of him as he went. Emil let out a squeak of surprise as he was grabbed and pulled against Beowulf’s broad chest.

“Thank you, pretty boy…” Beowulf said happily as he started patting Emil on the head with one of his large hands. Emil tried to pull himself away, but Beowulf’s other arm was wrapped firmly around his waist, pinning him to the big man’s chest. Emil felt his cheeks start to heat up again as he struggled helplessly in Beowulf’s grip.

Eventually Emil gave in to being cuddled and having his curls stroked gently, sighing against Beowulf’s chest. It wasn’t long before the petting stopped and the soldier’s grip on him went slack, and Emil looked up at Beowulf’s face to see his eyes were closed and he was breathing steadily, asleep. Emil then carefully wriggled his way out of Beowulf’s arms and climbed off the bed. He quickly searched the room for a spare blanket, grabbed it, and stole his way out the door and into the hallway.

Emil swiftly made his way through the castle and to the dungeons, and as he descended the corkscrew stone steps, he could feel the temperature of the air dropping. He told the warden standing guard that he was just bringing Thedrick a blanket for the cold, which the warden didn’t seem to have an issue with, or just didn’t care enough to try and stop him, letting the noble pass. Emil proceeded through the stone corridors, searching for which cell the jester was being kept in.

Soon Emil spotted the black and red lump of Thedrick huddled on one of the cell cots, and so stepped up to the bars of the cell. “Thedrick? Are you still alive back there?” the noble called out quietly, the sound of his voice bouncing off the stone walls and echoing through the predominantly empty space.

The lump on the bed stirred and Thedrick raised his head, looking around the cell until his slightly glowing red eyes came to rest on Emil, his expression of confusion only intensifying. He unfurled himself and sat up on the bed, shivering.

“Come for a laugh, have you, Emil?” the jester asked bitterly, his words wobbling as he trembled. “If so, I’m afraid I’m off duty at the moment, you’ll have to come back some other time.”

“Beowulf asked me to bring you a blanket,” Emil explained, holding the blanket through the bars towards the jester.

Thedrick raised an eyebrow at him in suspicion, before getting to his feet and stepping over to the bars. He snatched the blanket from Emil’s hand, and quickly wrapped it around himself as he continued to shiver.

“Beowulf was really beating himself up about what happened earlier. He's really worried about you. You mean a lot to him,” Emil said in an attempt of comfort as the jester stared at him with slight indignance.

Thedrick was quiet for a moment. “I know…” he said softly, glancing away.

Emil considered the shivering jester for a moment, unable to help but feel a bit sorry for him for once. “Hey… come over here,” he said, and held out both his hands through the bars. “Take my hands.”

Thedrick gave him another puzzled look, but then stepped forward until he was close to the bars again, and took Emil’s hands in his own. Thedrick’s small thin hands felt freezing, despite the fact he was wearing gloves as always. Thedrick looked surprised for a moment, but then pulled Emil’s warm hand to his cheek and sighed as he held it there. His cheek felt as cold as his hands.

“I accidentally got the big guy wasted, you know,” Emil offered as a distraction from the chill, slowly lowering himself down into a sitting position on the stone floor, dragging Thedrick down with him as the jester followed the warmth of his hand.

“R-Really? I haven’t even been able to manage that…” Thedrick commented, moving as close to the bars as possible as he sat on the cold stone floor.

Emil nodded and smirked. “It was an… interesting sight to behold,” he mused as he stroked Thedrick’s cheek absentmindedly with his thumb.

Thedrick looked rather indecisive, glancing between Emil and the bars of his cell. Then he suddenly started moving forward, and Emil let go of him in surprise as he squeezed his thin frame through the space between the bars and then proceeded to climb into Emil’s lap, pressing his cold body against Emil’s warm one. 

Emil wrapped his arms around Thedrick’s small body, holding the jester tightly against his chest and he continued to shiver. Thedrick let out a deep sigh of relief.

“I’ve missed you Emil… I wish you didn’t hate me…” Thedrick muttered as he buried his face into Emil’s shoulder while he was held.

Emil felt rather awkward for a moment. He realised that he probably didn’t really hate Thedrick as much as he thought he did, it was more likely he was unfairly projecting his own self-loathing onto the jester. Well, that, along with his raging jealousy of where Beowulf had placed his affections. It was just easier to be annoyed at Thedrick than to face his own feelings.

“I’m sorry Thedrick…” Emil mumbled out, barely audible. Then he quickly thought of a way to change the subject so he wouldn’t have to deal with Thedrick’s response to that apology. “Are you hungry? Do you want to feed on me?”

“W-W-What?!” Thedrick stammered out in surprise, turning his head to look up at Emil with wide red eyes.

“Well, since you’re a vampire, would it help warm you up if you drank some of my blood?” Emil asked bluntly.

“I… I’m not a vampire! Baz proved I’m not!” Thedrick quickly defended himself, and Emil could hear the panic in his tone.

“When I was putting drunk Beowulf to bed, he let it slip. Now do you want some or not?” Emil asked testily, rolling his eyes.

Thedrick was now staring up at him in complete confusion. “You aren’t going to try and kill me or something? That’s usually how this goes…”

“Well, I’ve tried to do that before and it never really seemed to work,” Emil pointed out. "Besides... I'd rather keep both my arms…” he added with a wince.

Thedrick glanced down for a moment. “It will hurt though, you know,” he mumbled.

Emil raised a hand and waved it dismissively. “How bad could it be?”

Thedrick reached up and pulled back the collar of Emil’s shirt, and then leaned forward and upwards, before sinking his fangs into Emil’s shoulder.

“Yeowch!” Emil exclaimed at the sudden pain, voice echoing through the dungeon as every muscle in his body tensed up. "Holy shit that hurts! Beowulf really lets you do this to him like every day?" He really hadn’t expected it to hurt that much.

Thedrick mumbled something into Emil’s shoulder, probably an apology, as he got comfortable in the noble’s lap and pressed up close to him for warmth as he drank. The vampire had his eyes closed, and he looked like he was in bliss.

They sat there in silence for a long time while Thedrick fed and warmed up. Eventually the vampire let go of Emil’s shoulder and wiped his blood-stained mouth on the back of his glove. “Does this mean you don’t hate me anymore?” he asked hesitantly.
Emil snorted in derision. “Don’t count on it,” he huffed with a small smile.