Sleeping Beast Ch 09

REMINDER- I write long stories; some parts don't have naughty bits, but the parts that do will make more sense if you read the non-naughty bits, too. Thanks for reading!

--o----O----o--

"It's the wolves!"

Her exclamation startled Argus.

How foolish of her not to have seen it before! Of course it was the wolves!

Troi sensed Argus relaxing when her words penetrated the fog of his persistent fatigue.

"It's not the wolves," he replied.

He was almost always angry with her now, resentment washing over her with every word he spoke, but he was also familiar with the workings of her curious mind, and he knew right away where it had led her.

She ignored his skeptical reply. "It must be the wolves! Why else would they hunt with Nivid?" She gestured over the wide stone parapet to the animals in the courtyard below. "And why would they frolic with me if they were not bewitched?"

"Mayhap

you're

the witch."

She felt the amusement in his words, and her head swung toward him. This was more tolerance than he'd shown all month. Despite the fact his arm was nearly healed and pain no longer a factor, their time together was usually dotted with bitter comments and recriminating glares, but today, Argus didn't seem to begrudge her presence quite as much as he usually did. He'd accompanied her with no objection when she suggested they walk together after breakfast. Troi still hoped he'd adjust to Nivid's new sleep schedule and perhaps come to terms with the demons of lust and envy, so they could be friends again.

Argus ignored her surprise. "They hunt with Nivid because he's part wolf, and as the strongest creature among them, it's natural for the pack to follow him. They play with you because they are often confined and bored, and you give them treats."

Troi's silence said she wasn't convinced.

"If they were truly bewitched, I would also be safe from their hunger, would I not?" Argus asked. "And surely the sorcery would be hidden, not exposed like--?" A sweep of his arm indicated the pack whose members were so intent on her.

Her eyes darted from one to another of the lean grey wolves, landing on the two youngest member of the pack, litter-mates from last year's young, Nivid had told her. Those two in particular had been following her with their eyes, and they were the most likely to respond to her playful command to sit. Their ears twitched when she said their names.

"But they listen to me," Troi could hear the whine in her voice, but she wasn't ready to give up on a potential solution so quickly.

Argus chuckled softly instead of replying to her complaint, and his attention returned to the pack.

Troi followed suit, tearing bits of gristle from the bones of a pheasant Nivid had caught the previous day. Astonishingly, there hadn't been a mark on the bird when he gave it to her. When she asked him, Nivid grinned and replied, "Quiet."

She'd wrinkled her nose at him, because she knew what that grin was about: he was constantly sneaking up on her and scaring her witless. Most of it was unintentional-- he moved in complete silence, as far as she could tell-- but he'd begun to relish her startled yips and squeals. She pretended to disapprove of the unseemly glee he demonstrated at such times, but she was always grateful when humor stole the serious expression from Nivid's soft black eyes. She smiled at the memory and tore away another piece of meat.

She should really have saved the bones for soup, but she didn't want to keep the stove in the kitchen burning for that long, and a fire in the wash-yard pit would use more wood than a mere pot of soup warranted. She'd give the wolves what she could salvage, then hang what was left on a string outside the kitchen window, where small songbirds would come peck at it. Their sparkling eyes and tiny head-tilts always amused her. Which, in turn, amused Talgut, who had never heard of anyone feeding wild birds. The first time he'd seen them hopping around a cage of bone was after they'd eaten the unlucky chickens from his trip to town. He'd pointed out that a chicken was also a bird. Now he called every carcass she hung "Uncle Andrei" or "Papa" or some such nonsense, teasing her about feeding the songbirds a cousin or an aunt.

"

Ofsa

!

Ozu

!

SIT!

" she called down, waving her treat-grasping hand at the yearling wolves.

When she didn't immediately toss them treats, Ofsa sat. Ignoring Ozu, she praised his sibling vociferously, tossing a bit of meat his way. Exploding upward from his haunches, Ofsa nimbly shouldered aside Ozu's attempt to intervene. Troi laughed as Ozu managed to stay on his feet. "That's what you get for not listening to me, Ozu! Sitting gave him more spring than you!"

Argus was silent at her side, ignoring the fact she'd named wolves and was apparently teaching them tricks, something she expected to garner his disdain.

Troi scattered the last handful of scraps over the heads of several older wolves who were less than enthusiastic about her games, though they too watched her with affectionate eyes. Sometimes their sweet expressions almost made Troi believe that she could walk among them without harm.

She wouldn't say anything of the sort, of course, especially not now. She'd been deliberating what to do about her friend's attitude and certainly wouldn't squander Argus' current, benign mood on a comment guaranteed to enrage him.

Hooking a finger through the sternum of the bird's naked skeleton, she pivoted from the wall, offering a tentative smile and hoping his even temper held. Troi didn't want to break the tiny truce, but she had to take advantage of this opportunity.

The problem was that Nivid hadn't yet told Argus the theory he'd constructed from scraps of their father's reasoning and his own remembrances: Nivid believed Argus' ability to change bodies, and his own need to mate, were tactics meant to ensure the continuation of the curse, by continuing the Denova bloodline.

Nor had Nivid told Argus his borrowed body was dying. While that was slightly more comprehensible to Troi, she thought Argus should be aware of both. Several times, she'd shared her opinion-- with no results, and without Nivid's theory as background, some of what she wanted to say to Argus wouldn't make much sense.

Having given up on the dream of a subtle way to convey her request, she spoke plainly.

"Argus," she murmured. "I know you've been very tired of late, but I would ask a boon of you?"

She made it a question, which Argus answered only with his continuing attention.

She swallowed. "As a personal favor to me, could you.... mayhap... not make so many comments about Nivid being a beast?"

That was as polite as she could make her plea, which usually sounded much less courteous in her head.

The hazel eyes drilled into her with a degree of wroth belying the circles beneath, but nothing else of what he was thinking was apparent on the handsome, haggard face. His voice, when he spoke, was low and even, but Argus' tone...

ahh.

.. his tone told another story, even without the acerbic words employed to convey it.

"He

is

a beast, Troi. As much as you'd like to dream pretty dreams about your

lover

," Argus spat the word at her, "Nivid is a wild animal. He lives to kill, fight, and fuck. Not make love, Troi. He

fucks.

I'd tell you to hold your tongue until you've been here for a few years, but that would be a waste of breath: you won't be the last woman brought here for his use. So any words I have with my snarling, fighting, fucking, death-dispensing other half are

none of your God-damned business

."

Troi's mouth went slack, slipping from an irked pucker into stunned, parted silence as Argus ranted, denying her rightful claim to a vested interest in Nivid's welfare, in addition to completely disregarding the work she'd done-- was still doing-- while trying to free them-- to free

him

, the miserable lout!

Troi pressed her lips together, taking a noisy breath through her nose as she struggled for control.

Argus wasn't the only exhausted occupant of Zamok Denova. Her quavering fear had cured into adamant determination, but Troi wasn't unaffected by the situation: she barely slept for staring at the timbered roof of Nivid's chamber, wondering what else she should be doing, what protection spells she'd accidentally omitted, worrying that her charms and wards and amulets wouldn't work because she'd forgotten some vital ingredient in the years since her mother's death.

Her efforts to calm herself for naught, Troi dropped the pheasant where she stood, and the fingers she'd freed darted up and out, seizing the top of Argus' left ear.

She'd had enough of this

Russian

yerunda

, she thought, stealing Talgut's phrase.

Hauling Argus along, Troi marched quickly along the gallery, ignoring her prisoner's invective and the hands around her wrist. Greasy pheasant-coated fingers or not, she had a tight grip on the ear, and he wasn't getting away.

She didn't release him until she'd wound all the way through the small bedchamber she'd appropriated for her sewing. With an angry push in place of the punch she'd been picturing, she shoved him away, going at once to cast aside the drapes. With sunlight guiding her, Troi crossed the room and closed the door with an emphatic crash. When she met Argus' fiery gaze, her own dark eyes were shooting flames nothing at all like the fire which had raged between them on the clifftop.

"Do you prefer a cursed existence? Is that what motivates you, Argus Denova? Because every time you mutter a criticism or complaint, you push your brother further away, though you are caught together in this witch's web.

Never to be together, never to be apart

... that's what the curse says, is it not? As long as you hold yourself above him, you're aiding the witch in her cause.

"And you--!" She turned on Nivid the instant he burst into the chamber, obviously alarmed from afar by the lash of his brother's temper.

"Close that door! The room is warded against outside ears, but it won't work with the God-damned door open!"

In the corner of her eye, Troi saw Argus flinch.

God-damned

right she'd use his

God-damned

words to needle him into civility if she were so inclined. When the door closed, she went right back to where she'd been upon the arrival of her "lover"-- she almost hissed in remembering Argus' sneer.

"And you--" She pointed at Nivid. "-- are just as guilty of separating yourself from him!"

"Keeping secrets," Troi stated firmly, trying to convey her meaning without betraying his trust, "aids the curse-caster as surely as your brother's insults do!

"You have divided yourselves. You are barely kin, much less a single soul in two bodies the way you say you ought to be. You are tempting targets-- any evil can harm you both with one swipe, uncontested because your solitude renders you weak and vulnerable.

"Nivid can't tie anything or turn pages with those hands. Even if his vision under the curse hadn't stolen the pleasure," Troi elaborated, "he'd have been forced to give up the history books he loves. Argus cares for the Denova family's business interests alone-- a boring, necessary duty at which Nivid would utterly fail, were he called upon to be responsible. Nivid's hunting is what feeds the household, and Argus has all but forgotten how to stalk game or clean a kill.

"You needn't keep opposite hours. As far as I can tell, Nivid's early years were

uncomfortable

for you to experience first-hand, so you took to sleeping when he was hunting or

fucking.

" She stressed the final word, and Argus looked away. "In town, you saw how much easier life was when you were completely 'human.' Your wishes drove the division, and when his most violent years were over, neither of you reclaimed the half you'd lost. Nivid has gone two decades without making a map--" Troi had seen some of those he'd drawn before the change and didn't need expertise to recognize the love that had gone into making them. "--and Argus hasn't run in the forest or gone fishing in that same length of time."

She glared furiously from one man to another. Neither spoke, though she noted their nearly-identical expressions. Argus' fatigue had been gradually draining his face of expression; his emotions were often as difficult to read these days as those hidden behind Nivid's non-human facade. Still, both sets of eyes were wide now.

Hands on her hips, she continued, "I am

going

to kill the sorcerer or witch who cast this damned curse, then I am going to break it. I would appreciate it if you two would not make those tasks more difficult.

"Pass more time together. Stop blocking each other and dwelling on your lives apart." She pointed an arrogant finger at her friend. "Cease your complaints , and you--" She glared at her beast. "-- tell him what fate demands of you."

She didn't add "or I will" but, with that stupidly sensitive nose of his, Nivid could no doubt scent her intentions. Troi stomped to the door, throwing back a last command as she departed. "Now talk!"

-- o --

In the bulging bit of silence after Troi slammed the door, Nivid and Argus hoovered uncertainly on the brink of compliance, neither sure of what the other truly felt. Separately, that one thought was enough to produce identical reactions. They dropped the walls between them, opening their minds to each other in the present, instead of letting the day's events dim into memories as they slept. Waking with the knowledge of things that had already taken place was far less vivid than experiencing another person's emotions as they happened.

The first few minutes were a chaotic mix of overlapping feelings and thoughts, revelation and response. By prodding them into sharing this way, Troi had unknowingly dulled the impact of Nivid's grave news. Argus was barely affected by the concept of his borrowed body dying, because he was overwhelmed by the knowledge that his sleeping mind had been actively trying to invade his brother's time with Troi. He cringed as he felt the blow of learning he'd been acting-- in his mind, at least-- like the worst kind of sexual deviant.

Nivid, for his part, was hit with the whole blast of what Vesa had been feeling since Troi's arrival, not just his love for her, but his mind-set now, in which Troi was responsible for every morsel of his misery. Argus very clearly traced the fatigue he felt back through Nivid's altered sleep schedule and directly to the night Troi moved their meetings away from the padded bench, changing everyone's life forever.

They sat on a wide stone ledge before the window, their eyes closed, and might have looked like they were dozing, if anyone had been present to see the tableau. Making sense of the swirling pool of mixed memories was less perplexing without sight. After a while, Nivid swung around and opened the sash behind them, admitting a breeze rife with the scent of spring arriving on the mountaintop.

In the corner of his mind Nivid kept apart-- which he still had not revealed to Argus-- the war between instinct and intellect continued. His need to protect Troi-- the same instinct which had brought him tearing up the stairs when he felt the spike of Vesa's anger, conflicted with his desire to aid her.

She wanted them together, and Nivid wanted to grant that wish, but Argus wasn't the only person he'd been protecting with his silence. He was keeping a secret from Troi, too.

After she'd learned the true breadth of the Denovas' burden, the possibility that Argus had watched them as they made love was the one which disturbed Troi more than any other. Whenever she'd spoken of the subject, her scent had become acrid and coarse, paining Nivid as much as the thought pained Troi. He couldn't bear to make her feel that way again by telling her about these new nocturnal visits. It was his own cowardice, too; even his animal side recognized the fact. Her emotions had been in turmoil that night, but the scent of Troi's desire to leave him had been strong enough to overcome all others.

Although Argus still knew nothing of Nivid's own confusion, his almost-unobstructed presence in his brother's mind helped Nivid recognize how foolish he'd been. None of them had a clue what would or would not be significant to Troi's quest. Knowing of Argus' unwitting forays might change decisions she made in the months to come. Argus corrected himself without shielding: in the

weeks

to come. Because he'd be dead in a month or two, whether or not she succeeded.

That conclusion didn't require deliberation, they realized; the conviction was already fully-formed. In the back of his mind somewhere, Argus must have known the time would come, because he also knew what his response would be:

nothing

. They would do nothing to prevent it; he would not take another body to continue the empty life he'd been living. Nivid felt Vesa's certainty and didn't think to argue. He was proud of his brother, who for once was relying on his heart instead of his head.

The thought winked on and off again, but Nivid didn't stop to question the effect Vesa's decision would have on him. They'd never found satisfactory answers to any of their questions about the curse, and he had no reason to believe he'd find them now.

-- o --

Troi was practically whistling when she joined Talgut in the garden. Having spent her entire collection and tension and ire on the stubborn Denovas, her mood and mien had lightened considerably.

Now... if she could just find the witch.

Talgut muttered about the weeds which seemed to have been deposited by the rain overnight, while Troi mused that those same light drizzles wouldn't be enough to start the spring on the clifftop flowing. Living water was an essential component of her plan to break the curse, so she'd have to call the rain if it didn't arrive on its own, and she--

Troi made a face, tossing a handful of flotsam into the basket at her heel and tearing her mind back to more immediate concerns, her current companion among them.

She frowned at the damp greenery between her fingers. She hated that the existence of the curse forced her to question the conclusions of her heart and eyes, but she couldn't afford to take anything for granted.

After Nivid asked whether one of them could be possessed, she'd begun to review past events and conversations with a more critical eye. It was entirely possible one of them was complicit in the machinations of magic keeping the Denova curse alive, and of the three men, Troi couldn't help looking most closely at the one man unconnected by bonds of family, blood, or magic.

When she warded Talgut's room, she'd tamped down her inconvenient sense of honor and poked through his personal belongings, searching for some sign that he might have been impressed into service by the curse's unknown creator. She'd found nothing.

She worried, nonetheless. Like the Bashkir shamans and holy men concealed their true names to protect themselves from harm, some sorcerers kept a second residence to protect their true home. Who could say that Talgut's innocuous belongings proved the absence of malfeasance?

And what about the timing? Many crucial changes in Argus and Nivid's relationship originated right around the time of Talgut's arrival. Those couldn't all be coincidences, could they?

Happily, the man in question interrupted her discomfiting thoughts. "Where are his Highness and his Majesty this fine morning?"

Troi smirked. "Lord Denova and his honored brother are enjoying enlightened discourse on the second level of their domicile."

Talgut snorted. "So his Hairiness and his Grumpiness are sitting around sippin' tea while the hard-working servants toil in the fields."