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There exists an astronomical phenomenon known as the binary star. Two stars, orbiting around a common center, that remain united by the bond of their own mutual gravitation. Their fate, sealed from the start: if one star dies in a fiery nova, a blaze of glory, often its companion is destroyed; else they continue to share, to feed off one another, exchanging the stuff of survival.
Jasper studied astronomy quite extensively during his scholarly period in the furthest northern reaches of Erdrea. Really, it was a pleasant distraction from the dust of his daily life—quite literal dust, in some cases, thanks to the ancient tomes cluttering the Royal Library—to break his brain free of elemental studies of ice and fire and darkness. Magic was all very well and good, and it was an often-enjoyable challenge to maintain his swordmastery with a notable shortage of worthy opponents, but his reading for pleasure brought him satisfaction in a way little else could manage. He read of the musical arts, social sciences, literature, mathematics…Jasper’s hunger for knowledge always was unlimited, and his brain wide and deep both.
His current favored topics of Erdrean astronomy and culinary history aside, Jasper was positively sick to the back teeth of studying. And snow, and near-misses with frostbite, and snow down the back of his doublet, and smoked fish, and snow in his boots, and ice crusted on the hilts of his new blades, blades he was just becoming even slightly adept at wielding simultaneously, and, of course, Hendrik’s maddeningly short, annoyingly straightforward letters from sunny Puerto Valor, a world away. The rudiments of slash-and-parry are quite simple in nature and difficult in practice, Jasper. The sun shines brightly here, more so than in Heliodor, and it becomes hot in the afternoons when training outside, Jasper. There exists a local bush which is said to cure headaches and mild fever. I ate a leaf raw and got poisoned, Jasper. The last being rather funny, actually, imagining Hendrik solemnly consuming a suspicious leaf—for he completed most actions solemnly—and suffering prone on his bed for the next day or so.
Jasper always wrote back, and his letters were always of far greater quality than the missives he received in response. Frequently, the informative and the complainant: Hendrik, today I mastered the finer points of my own variation on a Kafrizz, using a type of cold fire that burns blue—I call it a Kafreeze, and it has inspired me to further research cross-elemental spells. Hendrik, this thrice-damned snow is absolutely everywhere! In my clothing when I walk outside, tracked with dirt around my living quarters, melting in my hair and causing a great deal of frizz. Hendrik, you idiot, do I honestly have to remind you not to put strange plants into your mouth and stomach? It is a wonder beyond wonders you have remained alive thus far.
And, very occasionally, some things a good deal lighter: Hendrik, it really is lovely here…on occasion. I woke up today and the whole world seemed to have been dipped in liquid crystal and left out to dry—I have been consuming far too much poetry, have I not? Hendrik, I made a friend. A cat has been stalking my steps around the Royal Library for the past week, and I shared with her today a bit of smoked fish. She now follows me into the reading chambers, by the fire, and curls upon my lap.
Never what he most and least desired to say. Never: Hendrik, I think of you often. Hendrik, I hate you for leaving me all alone here.
Hendrik, I miss you.
There were things Jasper could not bring himself to write, nor to read.
It was of no consequence anymore, not the day he arrived in Puerto Valor after a painfully long journey aboard the World Query, an oddly-named and slightly-uncomfortable ship, the cabins small and cramped. Jasper’s goal, for the past several months, had been simple: learn enough, study enough, practice enough to outshine Hendrik. Hendrik, who had, according to his letters, improved his swordplay more than a great deal during his time in Puerto Valor—even to the point where Don Rodrigo commended him in front of the other recruits. Of course, Hendrik was annoyingly humble in recounting the tale, describing what an honor it was to have a banquet held in his name as the champion in dueling among the recruits. A banquet, for Yggdrasil’s sake! Clumsy Hendrik, with his dogged determination and mortifying earnestness, a champion in dueling? It filled Jasper with frustration to no end to spread out his letters and read and reread them, scanning for clues, a pattern, as to exactly how and when Hendrik became so…capable.
He did not want Hendrik to remain incapable, of course. Such a phenomenon would detract from the competency of the Heliodorian military force as a whole, and surely the entire purpose of their training was to better it, hence why Jasper was improving his intellectual capacities and Hendrik his physical, worlds away from each other. It simply…rankled. To have Hendrik be truly better at something than he was, not simply able to win a few practice matches every now and again. Jasper wished, almost, that he had been working on his swordmastery day and night, if only to get the better of Hendrik once again—but alongside his elemental studies, and his academic studies, and his recreational studies, and his unfortunately-necessary eating and sleeping, it would have been impossible.
The stars were in full view in the sky as they neared Puerto Valor, where he was joining Hendrik in boarding a ship back home to Heliodor. In Heliodor, assuming they demonstrated appropriate mastery of their chosen subjects, they would be knighted, before returning again for further knightly training in Puerto Valor in some time. Jasper could hardly believe it—he had been working toward this goal for so long, they both had, and the end was finally in sight. Knighthood, and then higher-ranking positions in the military, and so on until Jasper was named general, perhaps with Hendrik as his lieutenant, or else co-generals. Jasper would be willing to share the glory if it meant such a position for him at last, so long as he could serve as general-tactician and progress beyond mere soldiership, something Hendrik could never achieve. It would all be worth it in just a few short days. Knighthood, and then the rest of his life could begin. Their lives.
Jasper’s eyes were fixed on the stars as he swung lazily on one of the ship’s hammocks. He thought he could make out a nebula here, a nova there—although perhaps that was his imagination playing tricks on him, his brain filling in the empty spaces between expectations, as it was so often wont to do. It was no matter; at any rate, the method of the stargazing was making calm his pounding heart. It seemed as though he had become more and more agitated in the weeks, the days leading up to his return, which was illogical at best and idiotic at worst. Why in the world should he be anxious? All he was doing was going home. Seeing Hendrik again, and going home.
In the Royal Library, in addition to books on feline diet and fluid physics and meta-ethical philosophy, there were a few—quite a few novels concerning the topic of romance. And Jasper, when bored of academic studying and bored of recreational studying and bored of poetry and adventure and comedic plays, would very occasionally venture into the collection of romance novels the library contained. Only a very few times over the course of his tenure in Sniflheim. How extraordinarily similar they all were, concerning the exploits of an impoverished young farmhand and his forbidden romance with the nobleman’s daughter, or lovers torn apart by distance, half a world away, or any of the other ridiculous tropes that brought to Jasper’s mind nothing but hackneyed disgust. He only read those novels out of boredom and spite and curiosity, to examine the very lowest denomination of published writing.
Hendrik loved to read. Reading was one of Jasper’s greatest pleasures, and his thirst for knowledge never-ending, but Hendrik read absolutely everything that took his interest—including and up to terrible novels concerning romance. Jasper knew this for a fact, having rifled through his possessions in the barracks a few times. Hendrik kept around whetstones, romance novels, battered children’s literature, packs of jerky, oilcloth, an old silver ring set with what looked to be a cracked royal ruby. And, most embarrassingly, hidden completely out of view in a slit in his pallet, a small stuffed slime. Jasper already had full awareness of the fact that Hendrik used to sleep cuddling a slime doll—the man had it with him on the night Zwaardsrust fell, for heavens’ sake—but seeing it still with his belongings at the age of eighteen touched something in Jasper he was certain he had locked away long ago. He left the doll alone, and the rest of Hendrik’s things with it, save for one book, which he took for his own personal use.
Stuffed toys aside, the rest of Hendrik’s belongings also struck a chord inside Jasper, most specifically the romance novel he picked up and took with him, only to borrow and hence ridicule privately: Seasons of my Love. Detailing the dramatic and tumultuous relationship between two young lovers, childhood companions who were torn apart when the young man married a noble lady for her status and means, leaving his love alone in the dust. It could not have been more trite, or more poorly-written, but something about it made Jasper incredibly angry, anger that was inspired beyond overuse of the passive voice or the word longingly. He was never one to get worked up about fiction, but he felt a great betrayal nonetheless. How dare that pigheaded young man break faith with his love, who had done nothing but meet him readily at every turn? How dare he cast his love aside for another, choose duty over bond?
The ship gave a great lurch, and Jasper’s hammock swung, jolting him out of his reverie. There was no more time to think about books, or letters, or anything excessively cerebral, not now. In a few short hours, he would be in Puerto Valor. And he would see for himself exactly how Hendrik had changed.
Jasper intended to fall asleep that night, to go back to his cabin and rest, but the bright stars and his creeping anticipation got the better of him— not anxiety, he would never be with anxiety simply due to Hendrik, of all people. It was mere anticipation. Glad anticipation, even, for it would certainly be a pleasant challenge to match his new-found skills against Hendrik’s in sparring. Sword stances and guards, elemental magic; perhaps even a few acrobatic tricks, if the match called for it—Jasper had been perfecting a certain vault he planned to carry off Hendrik’s shoulders if he bent low in just the right fashion. Of course, landing it in practice against a training dummy was one thing, extremely different than landing it upon a live, moving opponent, but Hendrik was slow enough that he was sure he would be able to execute it flawlessly.
The stars, and his anticipation, and planning, and tomorrow all kept him awake—and, without a doubt, the fact that his cabin was about nine square feet, and he would much rather rest out-of-doors, on a hammock, amidst the sea breeze. The sun was rising fast over the horizon, coloring the clouds red and orange and magenta, and it caught Jasper’s breath fast in his chest. It was difficult to see a truly great sunset in Sniflheim, even from the harbor, what with the snow-clouds obscuring most of the sky. This was something else altogether. Jasper loved Puerto Valor, had visited a few instances over the course of his life and enjoyed it every time, but a sunset like this, away from snowy skies for once, almost reminded him of Heliodor. Of home.
He could not wait to see the sun rise over the Heliodorian foothills. Or to try and examine which stars and celestial bodies could be seen from just outside the castle. Perhaps he could teach Hendrik, even, for all that Hendrik was lacking in common sense and intelligence sometimes—often—his dogged perseverance occasionally made up for that fact. When Hendrik wanted to learn something, he devoted himself to it wholeheartedly. Perhaps that was why Jasper was so full of anticipation to familiarize himself with Hendrik’s new swordmastery. What a match it would be!
Jasper pressed his fingers above his cheekbones, an old, bad habit. He did not like having dark circles and bags beneath his eyes, betraying his lack of sleep, although it happened more frequently than he thought typical for a man his age—frequently enough that it was near-constant, at least somewhat, whenever he glanced in a mirror, which was as often as he could manage. Perhaps sparring could wait for today…at least, until he had gotten a little more sleep. They could wait until after they arrived back in Heliodor, even, just to give Jasper a chance to sleep in his own bed and hopefully get a decent night’s rest. His quarters in Sniflheim were passable, but it was very strange not to sleep next to Hendrik, when he had been doing so nearly every night for more than twelve years. Hendrik’s occasional bouts of sleep-talk, the way he clutched his pillow as though it were a lifeline, even his abominable snoring…Jasper missed it all, as loath as he was to admit it. They had not shared a bed regularly for several years, but there was some small comfort in spending the night in Hendrik’s arms after a nightmare or when insomnia struck, Hendrik wrapped in his…
Damn and blast. Jasper shook his head angrily, as to clear away his thoughts. He did not miss sharing quarters with Hendrik, much less sharing a bed. Familiarity bred comfort; that was all he desired. It was pleasant in Sniflheim, without the log-sawing sound of Hendrik’s snores in his ears, and that sound had never lulled him to sleep. Truly, the man needed a decent punch in the nose to fix whatever ailment afflicted him. Perhaps Jasper could set such a process in motion when they sparred. And slip Hendrik another suspicious leaf to cause leaf poisoning, if he could find the bush Hendrik mentioned.
The King had promised Jasper and Hendrik private quarters upon their return to Heliodor, assuming they demonstrated aptitude in their studies and were consequently knighted. Private quarters! Jasper had not shared private quarters with Hendrik since they were very small, and he was treated according to his noble station, and Hendrik alongside him. No more barracks crammed with dozens of boys thinking themselves to be great heroes of Heliodor; no more paper-thin mattress and rock-hard bedframe; no more lying awake at night wishing to murder the boy eight beds over who thought his own self-pleasure was an exceedingly quiet activity—it was not—and no more laughing in the night with Hendrik over it, sometimes to the point of hysterics. A small price to pay, truly, for private quarters at last. Again.
There were still hours to go until they reached Puerto Valor, but Jasper was far too excited to sleep. He pulled out one of the culinary tomes he was gifted for study in Sniflheim, and read on.
The World Query pulled into harbor just after noon. Jasper was slightly groggy by that point, and his neck twinged slightly from his hammock-reading, but all of his discomfort multiplied tenfold when anchor dropped and he met Hendrik’s eyes. Hendrik, standing on the dock, with a grin on his face—and, oh, by Yggdrasil’s branches, what the hell had happened to him?
Hendrik was…Tall. Jasper had almost always been the taller of the two, if only slightly, but Hendrik was towering over the young man standing next to him, who must have been nearly six feet. And he was muscular! Even in his training tunic, Jasper could tell. He stood proud and tall and strong, and he was grinning as though the only thing in the world he had ever wanted was for this ship to dock, and Jasper’s mouth was suddenly slightly dry.
Maybe sparring against his old friend might be slightly more of a challenge than he had anticipated.
Jasper clicked his fingers, and a porter scurried to begin the process of unloading his trunks—he had spent approximately a year in Sniflheim, of course he needed a decent amount of luggage. It took every ounce of control with him to smooth back his bangs, square his shoulders, and begin walking down the gangplank towards Hendrik. Not too slow, not too quickly. Hendrik was starting to become all he could see, the sun shining on his face, and anticipation stirred in Jasper’s stomach.
Hendrik said nothing when he approached, just kept smiling his idiotic smile. Goddess help him, but he looked even stronger up close. Jasper gave a slow sweep from ankle to eye, finally meeting Hendrik’s clear gaze.
“You’ve gotten fat.”
Hendrik’s smile disappeared, to be replaced by a scowl, before he burst out laughing. “Jasper. I see the cold northern winds did not blow away that personality of yours. You are the same as ever.”
“You are not.” Jasper still could not believe what he was seeing. Was that stubble on Hendrik’s face? “We are dueling later, but for now, you may show me to my chambers. I am exhausted, and I require sleep.” Damn it all, but he was too tired to process all of this. Or any of it, really.
Hendrik shook his head. “I am afraid that is impossible, Jasper. The Sister in Arms has arrived a day early, and we leave for Heliodor this evening. I know you must be tired…You certainly look it.”
And Hendrik did not even mean it as an insult, the great oaf. His eyes were wide and earnest, as always—save, occasionally, when they were full of wariness over something he suspected Jasper had done to him, which was not infrequently the case. It was just so easy to torture Hendrik through various ways and means. Jasper must remind himself to find that bush and snatch a few leaves before it was too late. “Shut up.” The words were full of affection, which Hendrik knew. Only with Hendrik would he allow himself to be so coarse-mouthed…well, with Hendrik and with the other recruits when he could not bring himself to remain noble when yelling at them for one reason or another. “Make yourself useful and fetch me lunch—not smoked fish. Anything but smoked fish, for heaven’s sake.”
“Oh, do you not wish to befriend any local cats?” Hendrik teased, and Jasper glared as hard as he could. He was sure it was not as effective as it could have been, between his dark circles and still-slightly-shocked expression. “As you wish. Come, there is lunch in the mess hall; I am sure no one will object to you joining me.”
There was fish, and quite a bit of it, but all of it was prepared in the Valorian style, which was infinitely preferable. Jasper helped himself to sea bream, paprika-spiced potatoes, and bean salad—all of it flavorful and delicious and not half-frozen. As a matter of fact, he was sweltering in his warmest doublet, left over from this morning’s slight chill in the air north of the Champs Sauvage. “Excellent,” he declared, wiping his mouth with his napkin. All around him, recruits were tucking in in quite a disgusting manner, but Jasper’s etiquette never faltered. Nor did Hendrik’s, as a matter of fact, thanks to the years of training Jasper had instilled into him. Well, almost never. A starving Hendrik was no Hendrik that was pleasant to be around. “And dessert?”
Hendrik chuckled. “Again, you prove yourself unchanged. Don Rodrigo does not provide the trainees with dessert—he is of the mind that it makes us soft and weak.”
“No dessert?” They were returning here for further training in just a short while, after knighthood had been conferred upon them, but Jasper was suddenly vehemently opposed to the idea. “That is preposterous. I refuse to buy into such a ridiculous notion.”
Hendrik shrugged. “Preposterous or not, that is simply the case. If you have pocket-money, there are several shops nearby…You could most likely purchase sweets there.”
Jasper considered his coin-purse, and his favorite sweet-shops back in uptown Heliodor, which were prohibitively expensive even on a good day. And the fact that he no longer received pocket-money, he had to work for it now…“Perhaps not. We shall be home in a trice, and I shall remain prudent until then. I have been dreaming of the sunset cake at Opal’s. You recall the one, with strawberry and peach and vanilla?” He pushed his chair back and stood up, striding out of the mess hall. At least his belly was full, and the food was good.
Hendrik followed him, as he always did. “You know I do not care for the sunset cake. The fruit combination is overpowering to my palate.”
“Because your palate is woefully unrefined.” Oh, it was nice here. Jasper was almost sad they would be leaving so soon, as eager as he was to return home.
“Come, let us walk this way.” Hendrik pointed down a small alleyway. “A shortcut to the plaza. I wish to show you the fountains; they are a marvel of architecture.”
“Very well.” The alley was narrow and deserted. Hendrik could—he could barely fit down its path, his shoulders too broad, his stance too wide. “You really have changed,” Jasper blurted out before he could stop himself.
Hendrik stopped dead. “Pardon me?”
“I only—Look at you.” Jasper gestured at him weakly. “A year ago, you were not like this. You have been training hard.” It was an understatement. Hendrik had clearly been working day and night.
Hendrik frowned. “I was wrong before. You have changed, too. Perhaps you have not…grown as much as I have, but there is something different about you, Jasper.”
Something different. Something changed. It could have been Jasper’s new magical might, adding some sort of tint to his aura. Or his own stance, refined from dual-wielding blades.
Or perhaps that he was shaken to the core by the fact that he hardly recognized his best friend.
It was just anticipation over their sparring, Jasper reassured himself, for those arms of Hendrik’s looked as though they could strike a serious blow. Certainly nothing as common and emotional as the idea that perhaps this new Hendrik was already beginning to surpass him. He must perish the thought, truly. “If you are referring to my magical might, you have seen nothing yet,” Jasper said, trying to keep his tone even. “I cannot wait to thoroughly best you.”
“It is more than that.” Hendrik’s brow creased. “There is a new anxiety about you. When you saw me, your face…I know I have grown, Jasper, but I am still the same person.”
“Are you?” Again, the words burst out of Jasper before he could think about them. “Every letter I have gotten, every tale I have heard, you have done nothing but share details of your strength and swordmastery.” He could not say brag, not accurately, because it was Hendrik. “You bested the Don’s son. You won three mêlées in a row. You had a banquet thrown in your honor, by Yggdrasil above, and you are telling me you are still the same person as the one who left Heliodor a year ago? You really are stupider than I thought if you expect me to believe that.”
Hendrik’s hands curled into fists, then released. “Jasper, why are you lashing out so? Are you…jealous?”
“Me? Jealous?” How dare he suggest such a thing? Anyone with a brain could surely tell that Jasper’s brains could still beat any brawn of Hendrik’s, any time, any place. “Of course not! I am simply sick unto death of such baseless accusations! You—just—go away, Hendrik!”
Hendrik looked incredibly wounded for a moment, his eyes practically welling up, his mouth soft and open. Then his expression closed off, and he looked away. “Fine. If that is what you want from me, then I will leave. I shall see you at five hours past noon on the Sister in Arms.” He gave Jasper a short, sharp nod, turned, and left the alleyway.
Jasper refused to sink to the ground, because the ground was filthy and he was above such things, but he did allow himself to lean against the wall, suddenly weary beyond imagining. He was not jealous. He was not. Anyone would be shocked if they found their best—if they found their companion suddenly tree-tall and muscled like a boulder. It was hard not to remember the night they met, looking at Hendrik like this. A skinny little thing he was, all tangled hair and big eyes, crying as though he were being wrenched limb from limb. The only thing that halted his tears was a story Jasper read to him, one of his favorites, concerning a faerie and the seven trials she undertook to save her kingdom. That, and a few brownies made with fudge and walnuts, slipped to him by one of the chambermaids who was sweet upon the grieving little boy who was to become the new ward of the king. It was funny, Jasper thought, how little Hendrik cared for sweets now, considering that all it took to shut him up as a child was a small amount of sugar. He had changed so much over the years, and he had changed even more over the past year—months, really! Perhaps he was a different person altogether now. Perhaps this was the last straw, and he would no longer serve as Jasper’s companion. Well, that would be perfectly acceptable. If Hendrik was willing to reject him, to call him changed and move on, Jasper was more than willing to beat him to the punch.
Branches above, but Jasper needed a dessert.
Two hours later, following the hasty purchase of half a dozen churros with a sauce of spiced chocolate and an ambling walk around downtown Puerto Valor, Jasper felt calmer. Less likely to lash out, to bite at the nearest provocation. And perhaps even slightly warmer towards Hendrik. They would be in close quarters on a ship, after all, for the next few days. And then, assuming they were both knighted, for quite a long time afterwards. It would not do to push Hendrik away entirely, to burn a bridge that had long since been built. Jasper could be magnanimous. He could even be forgiving. And Hendrik would have no choice but to appreciate that, not after Jasper came to him and made amends.
He asked for and received direction to Hendrik’s barracks, where he would most likely be packing the remainder of his belongings, and found Hendrik honing a greatsword, too big for his tiny pallet. “What,” Hendrik said, sullen.
“My goodness, Hendrik, do not jump up all at once to greet me.” Jasper sat next to him, tentatively. “That is quite a weapon. Platinum?”
“Crucible steel,” Hendrik corrected. “You are the one with the flashy weapons; Don Rodrigo has instilled within me a preference for the functional.”
Well, that was almost mean. For Hendrik, anyway. He must still have been quite hurt. “Listen. Hendrik. I wanted to—to speak with you. About…earlier.”
“Go on.” Hendrik continued honing his blade, passing the whetstone over and over, not meeting Jasper’s eye.
You were right, Jasper almost said, but was interrupted a breath before speaking by the blast of a ship’s foghorn. The Sister in Arms, most likely, and thus the journey home. Jasper leapt to his feet as though he had been burnt—being on a ship, somewhere he could unwind at least a little, would be infinitely preferable to an unfamiliar barracks in an unfamiliar city. “We should go. I wish to supervise the packing of my belongings.”
Hendrik rolled his eyes, but a tiny smile appeared upon his face. “Fine. Let us go. A moment to finish packing my weapon, and then we shall be off.”
“Take your time. Or, rather, do not, for I am with great excitement to return home.”
“The ship will not sail any faster if I hurry through the process improperly,” Hendrik argued, but he was already buckling his trunk shut, slinging his greatsword over his back. “There. I hope you are happy, Jasper.”
“Exceedingly so,” Jasper said lightly, attempting to quell the rush of excited nerves in his stomach that came purely from the idea of home, and knighthood, and home. “Come. The Sister waits for no man.”
His belongings were packed properly, thank heavens, and the majority were safely stowed away within the cargo hold of the ship. It was evening by the time they finally set sail, and Jasper’s exhaustion hit him in a rush—at that point, he had been awake for nearly a day-and-a-half. “I wish to stargaze,” he murmured, but he was already falling into the left-hand bed of their small cabin, the side he always slept on. “I have a great fondness for astronomy at present, and the sky over Puerto Valor is clear enough that I should have no problem making out celestial bodies. There is a constellation called Yggdrasil’s Bark I have been especially keen to spot…”
“Jasper,” Hendrik said gently. He did many things gently, far more gently than one would expect for such a rough man. “You are exhausted beyond belief. Yes, that is of your own making, but you need to sleep nonetheless. Stargazing can wait until the morrow.”
“We will not be in the same spot on the morrow,” he argued, but it was weak. The ship was stirring into life around them, beginning to set sail. “I suppose I can…” He tried to suppress it, but yawned anyway. “Take a few hours’ rest. Perhaps I will wake early enough to catch a few constellations.”
“Jasper.” Hendrik’s tone was sharp now. “As I said. You have changed, but you are still the same in many ways. Why do you refuse to take care of yourself so?”
“I know I am the same,” Jasper muttered, curling on his side on the bed, facing pointedly away from Hendrik sitting on the other. “Aside from my magical might and my much-improved expanse of knowledge. You are the one who has changed.”
“Are we back to this again?” An enormous dip in weight on the edge of his bed. Hendrik never made his bed creak that much before all of this. “I believe you wished to speak with me regarding…earlier. If this is the case, I would be most eager to hear what you have to say, in the hopes that it is an apology.”
Jasper sniffed. He could have counted the number of times he apologized to Hendrik in their lifetimes on two hands, perhaps. And the number of times he had admitted Hendrik was right on one. “Why in the world should I apologize to you? I have done nothing wrong. All I wanted to say was that…perhaps you were not entirely wrong. I am—not wholly unchanged. Beyond my magical might and knowledge and swordmastery and such. I only…I do not know. I thought I was the same person, but seeing you today at the harbor…It made me realize that maybe both of us had grown. In different ways. And I am not sure I like this change, Hendrik.” He took a deep breath. “Do you remember when we were small, scrapping and tussling and piling in a heap like puppies? Together, always?”
“Of course I remember.” A warmth on his back. Jasper nearly flinched, but his composure was well-honed enough not to move. It was only Hendrik touching him, touching the small of his back, as he liked to do sometimes, especially when Jasper was with nightmares. His hands felt bigger than they had before. “Is it us growing older that you dislike so?”
“Not precisely. Not only such.” Jasper shook his head, irritated with himself for being unable to elucidate his thoughts. Emotion was not his strong suit. Had never been, and most likely would never be. “It is more the fact that growing older means that we…might grow apart.”
And the dam burst. Once it became clear to Jasper, once he said it aloud, he could not stop himself from saying more and more. “I do not want to grow apart from you. I never have. Ever since we were very small, I never liked sleeping apart from you, once I got used to your thrice-damned snoring. Even in the barracks, you were always right there. It has been nigh on impossible sleeping without you…Sleeping has been nothing, it has been a mere trifle compared to going days and weeks and months without you, with nothing but your letters. You write awful letters, Hendrik. And being in your company is sometimes unbearable, do not misunderstand me, but very often it is at least somewhat pleasant. Occasionally, it is even fun. What if growing up, becoming knighted, becoming generals means that we have to give this all up? That we can no longer spend time together? It is our dream, I know, and I would not change that for the world, but I do not want to lose you. I want anything but.”
Jasper was breathing hard as he finished speaking, as though he had just run several miles with a heavy pack on his back, as they did in military training. Running ten, twenty, a hundred miles would be preferable to acknowledging what he had just said, what he had just done. Hendrik’s hand was moving in slow circles on his back, maddeningly comforting.
It was a long time before Hendrik spoke. “Jasper, I will not pretend as though I did not miss you with all I had and more over the past year. Every practice match, every training exercise, every meal could have been improved with your presence. You are most pleasing to me, even when you are prickly and stubborn and proud, as you so often are. But it was a great comfort to me, knowing that at the end of this training period, you would rejoin me and we would move on to greater and grander challenges—not alone, but together. I believe firmly that nothing could ever break us apart, Jasper. Not time nor space nor will. When we are knighted, when we move up in the military, we shall do it side by side. Just as we have always done. Nothing could change this. Certainly not the fact that I now have some skill with a sword, and you with hocus-pocus.”
That brought a small smile to Jasper’s face, despite himself. “You—you are right, Hendrik,” he said softly, suddenly believing it. How could he ever have thought any differently?
“Now that is certainly a change,” Hendrik said, sounding quite amused. “Still, no matter. Make room, will you? I wish to lie beside you, and my new physique makes lying on the very edge of the bed, as you have so often relegated me to, quite uncomfortable.”
“I do no such thing,” Jasper muttered, scooting over begrudgingly, and Hendrik drew close, embracing him fiercely. Oh, he would never admit it to anyone upon pain of death, but how he had missed this! Hendrik felt different than he recalled—stronger, harder, more solid, but the steady beat of his heart was as familiar as ever, and the touch of his hands even more so. He was warm, and smelled like himself, warm and woodsy and slightly floral, a little like leather and a little like salt-breeze.
He picked up Jasper’s ponytail, fingering the ends of his hair. Jasper was due for a trim, but his hair remained near-perfect nonetheless. “I missed this,” Hendrik confessed, ever more open and honest than Jasper himself, even at the moment. “Your hair…It is like silk. I missed touching it. I missed touching you.”
“Shut up,” Jasper mumbled, pressing his nose against Hendrik’s collarbone. “You are such a sentimental fool.”
Hendrik chuckled, pulling away very slightly to look Jasper in the eyes. “I believe I was not the one to first give a grand confession about how sorely I missed my best friend.”
“Hendrik,” Jasper growled, wishing badly to hide his blush and failing miserably, due to the fact that his arms were currently clutching Hendrik like a lifeline. “Keep up this slander and I shall take back everything I said and find myself a new best friend.”
“You would not dare.” Hendrik grinned, lopsided, looking for all the world like an overgrown puppy overly pleased with its mischief. “You love me.”
Something stilled inside Jasper, and, for a moment, he felt the stars within himself align.
His kiss was a desperate thing, wanting and hungry and somehow sweet for it. Hendrik kissed back; yes, he kissed back, his soft lips fitting against Jasper’s as though made for each other. Perhaps, thought Jasper wildly, that had been the case all along. Perhaps all these nineteen years had just been…practice. A trial run. And now his life was truly to begin. Hendrik was cupping his face, stroking over Jasper’s cheekbone with his thumb, his touch like trails of fire across Jasper’s skin. Everything was easy; everything was natural. It felt right, more right than anything Jasper had ever known before. Better than casting a powerful Kazam. Easier than a perfect counterattack. Hendrik moved with grace against him, as though in a waltz, and Jasper had no choice but to lose himself in it.
When finally they broke apart—it could have been ten minutes, it could have been an hour, as far as Jasper knew—Hendrik was looking down at him with the utmost tenderness, still stroking his cheek. “I have wanted to do that for so very long,” he murmured, low and soft. “This is better than any of my dreams.”
Trust Hendrik to say something so soft and sentimental. Jasper could feel his face flaming—damn his fair skin, that gave away his emotion so easily at times such as this. Quiet, oaf, was what he meant to say, but what came out instead was “Me, too.”
As he drifted to sleep in Hendrik’s arms, Jasper rather thought he could sense the stars above casting them both in light.