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“You will be starting your quest here in Solaraa,” Cliopher said. “Perhaps the standard local greeting first?”
His Radiancy nodded. “Of course.” He took a step closer to Cliopher, hesitated, then lurched forward, hands clasping around Cliopher’s forearms. Cliopher reached up to hold his Radiancy’s forearms, giving them a slight squeeze.
The silk of His Radiancy’s robes was smooth under Cliopher’s fingers. He could feel the warmth of His Radiancy’s body through the fabric, as clearly as if they were touching skin. They had not yet broken any of the old taboos. They had never been this close to each other.
“There,” Cliopher said, taking in a deep breath, and then another. “Just like that. Stay touching until you have completed introductions or greeting someone familiar.” He paused for a second. “In your case, probably introductions.”
His Radiancy's lips quirked in a smile. “Hello, Kip. Nice to meet you.”
Cliopher beamed. “Hello, my Lord.”
His Radiancy dimmed a little. “Please, call me Tor. I am going to be a normal person greeting people in normal ways, after all.”
There was no world in which his Radiancy was normal , but this was clearly not the time to argue. “Well.” Cliopher tipped his head up a fraction, looking into Tor’s eyes. “Hello, Tor.” He must have done something right; the man positively glowed.
The two stayed touching. Cliopher couldn’t look away, but he knew this was not quite a properly standard greeting. Even the Emperor probably knew enough about ordinary life to recognize that. Cliopher's hands were too sweaty, he might be damaging the delicate silk under his palms. He took a sudden step back, breaking contact.
“So! What’s next?”
His – Tor, he wanted to be Tor tonight – took a deep breath and lowered his arms. “Well. There’s always a handshake.”
“Right, of course, very normal in many situations, depending on your context.” Kip could feel himself near babbling, and stopped. “In that case you would just reach out and. Touch. Hands.”
Tor was looking at Cliopher’s hands now, waiting. Cliopher knew, of course, that the next thing to do was to hold out his hand. Somehow he couldn’t. He also knew that Tor absolutely would not be the one to reach out, that the man was barely breathing steadily. His Radiancy gave orders every minute of his day but here, in his private study, Tor would not so much as ask for a handshake. The fact that they had come this far was a miracle; that Tor had been able to admit he wanted something for himself. Cliopher sucked in a ragged breath and held out his hand. After a moment, Tor took it.
They were touching.
There was no lightning strike, no priests rushing into the room. On the other hand, if there had been Cliopher would not have noticed. His world has narrowed down to this single point of contact. Tor's hand was warm in his. He was a little sweaty too, Cliopher noted distantly.
“These two greetings will carry me far, I suppose,” Tor said quietly. “At least in some places. You didn’t use them much in Gorjo City.”
“Well, no,” Cliopher said, dropping his hand. “You saw how people greet each other in the Vangavaye-ve. Your hands go to each other’s arms, like so” – he gently wrapped his hands around his Radiancy’s upper arms, proud of himself for his decisiveness – “and then lean in and touch your foreheads together.” The two of them slowly, oh so slowly leaned their faces closer. Tor’s golden eyes fluttered closed.
“Not quite like that,” Cliopher said quietly. “You’re tilting your head to the side - the greeting is straight on, forehead to forehead.”
“Yes, of course,” Tor said, a little quickly. “Foreheads.” He leaned forward, roughly bumping Cliopher’s forehead with his. “I apologize, that was too fast.” With their faces this close together, Cliopher could only see one edge of Tor’s rueful smile. “I guess I really do need the practice.”
Cliopher’s heart was pounding, and he wasn’t sure if it was from greeting Tor the way he would a friend back home, the shock of hearing an apology from the Sun on Earth, or the fact that their faces were so close. “You would not be the first veloi to make that mistake. Try again.” The two of them separated slightly, and then gently touched foreheads.
They stayed touching for a while, breathing in each other’s air. Cliopher was almost on tiptoe, leaning on Tor’s arms a bit in order to stay balanced. Surely his neck was getting sore from leaning down, but neither one of them moved. He distantly noted that it would be more comfortable to simply wrap his arms around Tor’s neck, but resolutely ignored it. That was not the traditional Islander greeting. And oh, his heart swelled with the heretical joy of touching his lord as if they were friends in the Vangavaye-ve. As if they were equals who had met on the street back home, and both belonged there.
Eventually, the two swayed apart. Cliopher took a step back and tried not to look disappointed.
“Kip?” Cliopher had never heard his Radiancy’s voice be so soft before, almost a whisper.
“Yes, Tor?”
“What about more casual greetings? You embraced your family and friends, often.”
Cliopher nodded, not quite making eye contact. “Greeting loved ones is different, of course. A hug is often appreciated - even expected, if you’re family.”
Tor’s eyes went blank, more serene and less present than he’d been before. “Not always.”
Cliopher backtracked quickly. “Not here, of course! But it is in the Vangavaye-ve. Every culture is different.” He could save this, surely. “My family is very forward, as you surely noticed. If you encounter my sister or cousins during your quest “ – maybe not his mother, no need to puzzle through that “ – they would undoubtedly prefer an embrace to a court greeting. After spending this much time together, the taboos are the only reason Vinyë hasn’t started hugging you.”
That helped, a hint of his Radiancy’s real self appeared again in those lion eyes. “Truly?”
“Of course.” Cliopher opened his arms. “If it would be helpful to practice?”
Tor stepped forward into Cliopher’s arms, wrapping his arms around Cliopher’s back. Cliopher placed his hands on Tor’s back and gently tugged them closer together. He could feel Tor’s heartbeat in his own chest, and - oh, it was far too rapid. Tor felt like a scared rabbit in his arms, tense and breathing fast. Cliopher cursed his own eagerness, they were clearly moving too quickly. The last thing Tor needed was to be uncomfortable in his own skin.
“I apologize, this is too much. I’ve overstepped, my lord. Perhaps–” Cliopher tried to take a step backward, but was held tight. Tor clutched Cliopher’s shoulders, and he froze.
“No, it’s not too much.” That was surely a lie, but Cliopher was having a hard time arguing with Tor in his arms. “Just give me some time. I need to adjust to the reality of touch, Kip. Could we stay like this, please? For a little bit longer?”
Tor’s voice was gentle and soft. Cliopher would do anything to hear him speak like that again. “Of course, Tor. We can hold each other as long as you want.” He nestled his head under Tor’s chin, hands cupping Tor’s waist.
“I doubt that,” Tor muttered, almost to himself. He took several breaths, holding tight to Cliopher. His heartbeat slowed down as the minutes passed, tension gradually bleeding away from his muscles. Cliopher was so glad that he could help.
Tor stepped back, looking away. His smile was small and private; Cliopher was pleased to be trusted to see it. His own smile probably looked foolish, although thankfully Tor hadn’t noticed. “Thank you, Kip. I’m certainly not used to this yet.”
“No need to thank me, Tor,” Cliopher said. If Tor had been trying, Cliopher could not think of a better gift than this evening. “Don’t worry if you’re not fully comfortable embracing others; those are usually touches between family or social equals. Even if you’re not announcing your rank, people you encounter on your quest might notice that you -” could pull the Moon from the sky with your lion gaze “- have a noble appearance.”
Tor waved an elegant hand dismissively. “I have a thousand years of experience being greeted as a noble already.”
“It will be different if people touch you,” Cliopher said. “I’ve discovered this in my position as Lord Chancellor. For instance -” don’t hesitate, just do it “- in Southern Dair, kissing the hands of a lord is a common greeting, like this.” He reached for both of his lord’s hands, catching them in his and lowering his head. Cliopher dropped lingering kisses across his lord’s knuckles, pleased that he was properly sharing casual touches with Tor, then looked up.
Tor was gaping open-mouthed. Cliopher had never seen such an inelegant expression on his face before. “Do they?” His voice was strangely high. “That’s not. . ." He cleared his throat and started again. "That's not how I remember greetings in Southern Dair. In an opera, they greeted nobility like this.” He deftly lifted Cliopher’s right hand in his and touched it briefly to his lips. Cliopher blinked.
“That is a bit different. Perhaps a regional variant?”
“Perhaps. Your version of the greeting is certainly more intimate.”
“Well, everyone has different customs.”
“I don’t believe that was customary for a first greeting,” Tor said. “At least in a professional context.”
Cliopher frowned. “That’s the way I learned it. I was shown the greeting by an ambassador’s aide who . . . “ He trailed off. “Who was flirting with me, wasn’t he.”
Tor arched a shapely brow. “Who was that?”
Cliopher waved a hand, deeply embarrassed. “I don’t think you ever met him, and he’s no longer in the Palace. I apologize, my Lord. I would never take advantage of this moment alone with you to – to make a romantic advance. I hope you know that.”
His Radiancy sighed. “I know, Kip.”
Cliopher stopped himself from making an obeisance, thankfully, but it was a close thing as he tried to recover from his mistake. “This isn’t an appropriate time to be that forward, really. You are still Emperor tonight, of course.”
“Of course”, Tor agreed. “For tonight.”
“Please think no more of this, my – my Tor.” Now Cliopher really was in danger of babbling. “And it wouldn’t be a useful touch to practice with you anyway, unless the people you meet on your quest are going to –” He stopped, eyes widening. “Oh, no.” Most of his humiliation forgotten, he looked back into his Radiancy’s eyes. “People you meet on your quest are going to proposition you. Constantly.”
“They are?”
Cliopher nodded, grimacing. “With how attractive you are? Of course they will, if they don’t know you’re the emperor.”
Tor looked somewhat pleased. “Well. That will certainly be different.”
“I’ve learned to deflect unwanted attention in the Palace. I can teach you that as well, unless . . . “ Cliopher trailed off. “Unless you think you might . . . unless attention might be . . . wanted. You’ve never said – I know you’ve never been able to – but of course you might –” He took a deep breath and started again. “When you’re out of the Palace, you could act differently.” His Radiancy had refused a spouse or consort as Emperor, but the inner man still loved. Cliopher remembered Pali Avramapul’s disastrous visit to the Palace and the look on Tor’s face, and felt his heart sink. Oh, how he loved. Out of the palace, Tor could go to her. The two of them could be happy together. Cliopher would be happy for him, of course.
He ruthlessly squashed any other feelings that he might have, alone with his lord for what might be one of their last times together. He should cherish this moment, as he did every moment of time in his lord’s presence. “I am sure you will have plenty of opportunities to return romantic advances on your quest, if you happen to meet someone outside of the Palace who . . . “ Cliopher trailed off, at a loss.
Tor cleared his throat, looking down. “I don’t think I’ll be meeting anyone like that. But . . . later. If I were to see someone . . . someone beloved, and we could greet each other as we never had before. How could I –.” He stopped, clearly steeling himself, and then looked directly into Cliopher’s eyes. “How could I greet someone so they have no doubt of my interest in them?”
Cliopher’s heart ached. He could do this. Tor deserved to be sure of himself, confident and ready for the life he had been denied for so long. If he could finally be with someone he loved, even if she was clearly unworthy of him, Cliopher could not possibly be unhappy about that. He stepped back and tried to be the competent, caring friend he was supposed to be. “Well, my- Tor. I suppose a kiss is traditional, although that certainly depends on a person’s culture. Lady Yvaine has kissed me in greeting multiple times and she isn’t . . . “ Cliopher trailed off at the look on Tor’s face. “She is? Surely not.”
Tor looked as if he was trying hard not to laugh. “I’m sure she is, Kip.”
“She’s seventy if she’s a day!”
“None of us are as young as we used to be,” Tor pointed out, still smiling. Cliopher’s breath caught at seeing him so happy. He should always be this joyful. Perhaps outside of the palace, he would be. “Is there any touch that would make intentions more clear? Perhaps not a kiss, if there’s still room for confusion.”
“Well,” Cliopher temporized. “I would think a kiss should work if a person is already interested in you. Most people pay attention to those things.” He was quite sure of this; his friends had mentioned it multiple times. “And when you really love someone, any touch becomes important. Even the simple act of taking someone’s hand can mean everything in a wedding, for example.”
Tor reached out and captured Cliopher’s hand in his own, squeezing gently. “Like this?”
Cliopher gazed at their interlocked hands, transfixed by the gift of something so momentous as being able to hold his lord’s hand. Surely Pali Avramapul would welcome him into her life in an instant, if Tor approached her like this. “Yes. Exactly.” They were silent for a moment, hands clasped together. Determined to be the supportive friend Tor needed, Cliopher nodded resolutely and looked up. “I’m sure any person you reached out to like this would be yours, Tor.”
Tor smiled, his eyes soft and warm. “No confusion?”
Cliopher laced their fingers together and decided to remember this moment forever. “Of course not!”
*****
Several years later, Kip sat bolt upright in bed. “You were flirting with me!”
Fitzroy turned blearily in his direction. “Yes. When? I can flirt, just let me wake up-”
“No, in your study! Before you left on your quest! All that talk about touching beloved friends, you were flirting!”
Fitzroy sighed, propped himself up on an elbow, and glared muzzily at his fanoa. “It’s the middle of the night. We have lived together for decades. The orchestra is performing a literal symphony to your thighs next week. Yes, I was flirting with you. Now go back to sleep.”
“Your symphony is about Elonoa’a.” Kip frowned. “Isn’t it? Is this why Bertie keeps laughing?”
Fitzroy groaned and planted his face resolutely back on his pillow, tugging on Kip’s arm. “Go to sleep . It’s so late. Please.”
Kip let himself be pulled down. “I really think you could have been more clear –“
Fitzroy shushed him. “Late!” Burrowing deeper into the covers, he reached out to grab Kip’s hand, then fell back asleep.
Smiling contentedly, Kip squeezed his fanoa's hand and decided to follow suit.