Teyrhune World Building-Uldermond and Romulus

Romulus hurried through the encampment, stumbling over his own feet in his rush to get to the other side of the camp.  He choked on the stubborn lump in his throat and fought against the increasing pressure on his chest threatening to cave it in.  He had been in the middle of preparing dinner when the men had come in, bragging about a skirmish with some Daekarran zealots.  He had ignored them until the conversation turned to contempt and hushed whispers about the Daekarran man that lived in the camp shifting into a massive black cat and fighting his own kind to protect Prince Palisene.  It quickly shifted to laughter as they discussed the creature being injured.

Romulus had felt his heart lurch.  He knew better than to ask the men about Uldermond.  They had given him enough abuse over spending so much time with the Daekarran.  It would be so much worse if they knew the truth.  He waited until Palisene and Saphira came into the tent to eat before asking about the man’s condition.  Saphira had assured him that Uldermond would be okay but it had done nothing to calm his fears, and the meal seemed to drag on for an eternity before the men began to disperse.

He ran his thumb across the rim of the steaming bowl of stew and wondered for the hundredth time if Uldermond would be well enough to eat.  The food had been his best excuse for his trip to the Daekarran’s tent, but it was far from the reason he was going.  If he ate it, it would be great, but… he had to see for himself that Uldermond was alright.  

He paused at the door of the tent, his emotions choking him and suddenly making him unsure.  He had to see him, to know that the injury wasn’t serious, but what would Uldermond think? He had given Romulus every reason to believe he liked him.  His heart pounded against his ribs, What if he does not feel the same way?  It would not be the first time I was wrong.  He remembered how he had caught the Daekarran watching him, eyes lingering a little too long, and it gave him the courage to reach for the flap and slip into the tent.

Uldermond stirred on the cot at the sound of the flap falling back into place. He rolled stiffly onto his back and a bright smile broke across his face at the sight of the cook standing nervously at the entrance.  “I had hoped you would come to see me,” Uldermond spoke quietly, as always.

Romulus’s breath hitched, the soft light of the oil lamps reflecting on the Daekarran’s skin was breathtaking.  He never thought Uldermond could be more stunning than at that moment. His heart thundered in his chest, and he took a few steps toward the reclining man.  “I thought you might like some dinner, and maybe… some company.  I heard the men talking, and I was concerned when you didn’t come to the meal tent.”  Romulus stopped himself from saying anything more, feeling the warmth of his embarrassment heating his cheeks at his admission.

Uldermond grinned and moved to sit up, the pain quickly turning his smile into a grimace.  “No, do not sit up!  You will hurt yourself.”  Romulus nearly dropped the bowl as he rushed forward, closing the distance between them.

The Daekarran waved Romulus’s concern away as he pushed himself up to sit. The blanket fell away to reveal his bandaged chest, and Romulus felt the blood drain from his face.  His knees met the ground, and had Uldermond not been reaching for the bowl, the cook would have spilled the contents on the floor of the tent.

Uldermond grabbed Romulus’ shaking hand, “It is not as bad as it looks.”  Romulus let his eyes fall to the gesture, and when the man didn’t make a move to pull his hand away, he looked up.  “A mace is not a kind weapon, but a few broken ribs and bruises are far better than a wound from a sword.”

“Had you been wearing armor…” Romulus stopped as he remembered the story the men had told.

Uldermond withdrew his hand, then, and stared into the bowl.  “I cannot wear armor.”  His voice was barely a whisper.

“I know.  I wasn’t thinking, I just…”  Uldermond raised his face, watching him apprehensively, and Romulus clarified, “The men said you changed into a massive black cat.  I wouldn’t think you could do that dressed in armor.”

“A black leopard…”  Uldermond searched Romulus’s face for a moment, looking for some hidden emotion.  When he didn’t find what he was looking for, he asked, “It does not bother you that I am a shifter?”

Romulus looked at him in confusion, “Why should it?  I think you are beautiful.”   Uldermond grabbed Romulus by the back of the neck and pulled him into a kiss before the man could manage to be mortified by the words he had spoken. A surge of joy and anticipation flooded through him as he leaned into it, his hand finding its way to Uldermond’s cheek.  Fingers wound into his curly locks, and he heard the bowl of stew hit the floor on the other side of the cot before a strong arm wrapped around him, pulling him forward.

It was a long moment before Uldermond’s lips released his, bringing his forehead to rest on Romulus’s, and he had a hard time catching his breath.  “I was not sure if you would return my affection or that you would accept me as I am.”

Romulus felt the overwhelming emotions clawing at his throat as he replied, “And I was afraid to hope that you cared for me.  Zanyrea is not accepting of these types of relationships.”

“We are not in Zanyrea.”  Uldermond’s lips found his again, and Romulus lost himself in the passion and joy.