Mecca (baffledking) wrote in deryni_fic,

Title: Vows
Era: Kelson-era
Pairing: Morgan/Kelson
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Not alone is harder than it sounds
AN: For becky_h
SPOILERS: For The Bishop’s heir. Missing scene from King’s Justice (*cough* I note that this obviously *isn’t* a missing scene, but the scene it’s continued off of is in King’s Justice)

Duncan and Dhugal had left touching Kelson lightly, sympathetically, caught between grief for Kelson and the still bright joy of discovering their relation. Kelson was still sitting by the fire, the towel discarded as the fire dried him.

"You should try to sleep, my prince," Morgan murmured, still leaning against the mantle.

Kelson shivered; the room was warm. "When the sedative works." The twilight phase of waking and sleep held horrors for him; Sidana's lifeless eyes staring accusingly.

"To bed then," Morgan combed his fingers through Kelson's hair, trying to give some order to disarrayed locks. Kelson caught his hand, bringing it to his mouth and kissing his palm softly, somewhere between an affectionate gesture and a request, mouth soft against Morgan's skin. He tilted his head to meet Morgan's eyes, mind opening and the request clear without any words don't leave me alone my wedding night. don't let the first I bring to my bed be the ghost of my murdered bride.

Morgan's breath caught in his throat, aching for the boy he'd helped raise and was floundering, but even more for the man who hated himself, even now for understanding, for thinking of the politics of Sidana's death. Aching for Kelson's cold certainty that he'd never love anyone as he loved the blond deryni lord who had stood over is cradle, guided his first steps, and stood by him as king. Not his silken Mearan princess. Not any other bride. The guilt of that was gut-wrenching. And worse than that, only his utter conviction of Morgan's immortality allowed him to ask this, when he couldn't protect his bride of three minutes, their hands still bound together in holy matrimony who could he?

"Kelson," he began softly, cut off by the king's quick headshake and a finger over his mouth.

Kelson pressed softly at Morgan's walls and Morgan closed his eyes as he let the young king in, enfolding him in his mind at the same time as he enfolded him within his mind, fingers gripping Kelson's hair and holding him close as Kelson muffled a sob against his throat before blindly seeking his mouth, need, fear, love, lust, terror, and devotion mixed all together, as bitter as the taste of the herbs and wine in Kelson's mouth.

Morgan drank the bitter draught to it's dregs, stumbling backwards to the great bed that had been meant to witness a wedding this night and instead witnessed the renewal of a promise. I am here, my prince, my king. However you need me, whenever you need me. Just as Brion had promised him, Alaric Morgan promised young King Kelson.
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