A/N: I am so, so sorry that it took me so long to update. Why do you put up with me? I have a bit of an excuse. I wanted to enter NaNoWriMo, just to see if I could make it. Guess what, I failed...I suck. I made it to just over half when I bailed on it, my small attention-span defeating the purpose of dedicated story writing. It's just a bunch of slashy oneshots, retelling the classical fairytales in my own, more-than-slightly retarded way. Then, after I gave up, you know what happened? I got rusty in that month, and forgot a lot of minute details from my stories. ^^; I had to go back and check if Carmen, protagonist in Silent Song, was really a blonde or a brunet, and I had to re-read all current chapters of Boy Bride to refresh my memories. I suck, really I do.

Happy B-day To Me: Actually, my birthday has passed, but Rosie, aka Aviatorlisa, drew this really lovely picture of Jibriel for me, and I want to give you guys the link so you can go and fawn over it. Remember, without the spaces. http : // community . livejournal . com /originalyaoi/ 186930 . html?view = 215090 You guys should go check out her adorable, slashy drawings. I've never seen such epic sexyness online....though I could probably find it in porn, but I don't do that. *Shakes head* Gosh darn, he's so cute when Rosie draws him -- meaning Jib.

Warnings: Nothing much. This is a relatively cute and easy chapter. There is some flustured!Leon action going on, thanks to Jibriel's unconscious sexyness, but nothing else. Slash, as always, which you've hopefully figured out by now.

Boy Bride: Chapter Five

Recap:

Myrddin smiled at the sight before walking away, heading towards Nana’s chambers in hopes of his beloved friend’s guidance.

Shadows swirled, forming the proud figure of a man. The world of Gale sat in his large palm like a child’s plaything, and he smiled down at it benevolently. It was obvious to anyone who looked that he was protective of the small world, his eyes radiant whenever the sparkling orb caught his gaze, the watchful curl of his palms shielding it from the shadows. A light, somewhere far away, yet too close at the same time, sparkled in the shadows, before shooting through the darkness. The lips of the benevolent man opened in a small ‘o’ of shock, eyes wide, as the sparkling object shot through him. Red stained the little orb of Gale, making it hit the shadowy floor, crack, and become enveloped within the shadows. The man turned slightly, looking back to see who had betrayed him in such a way, and his shock increased, before anger took over.

“Höðr will burn...” he declared, in his most wrathful, thundering tone, before he fell into the shadows, swallowed by the peace of death which they offered him. Quiet reigned once more.

Myrddin walked as silently as a stalking cat, footsteps barely heard on the marbled floor of the palace, and stepped up to a door that looked similar to all of the other doors around it. Except it wasn’t. This door, in fact, was very different from the rest. Unlike the door to Leonhart’s chambers, which glowed with pride and power, or the entrance to Myrddin’s own chambers, reveling in mystery and intrigue, it practically resonated warmth and motherhood. This door was the entrance to Nana’s chambers, very different from all the rest. He raised up a hand to knock, polite yet strong, on the door, not wanting to barge in on his friend if she was indecent.

A soft, “Come in,” answered the knock, prompting the little wizard to turn the knob and step inside. More warmth, now stronger as he was in Nana’s actual presence, hit him in the face like a friendly blast of wind. The woman responsible turned and gave him a smile that would make the sun envious. “Oh, Myrddin, what brings you here?”

He stared up at her in response, green eyes wide and emotionless, which weakened her sunny smile just slightly, as she came over to henpeck at him. A soft hand was placed on his forehead.

“I’m not ill, dearest,” he said softly. He was angry, he was desperate, he felt betrayed, he was a flurry of way too many indescribable emotions, but he was not sick. At least not yet. “I’m worried.”

“Worried,” she responded, brown eyes like the earthy ground in Njord. “About what?”

He began to explain to her what exactly he’d done, about Jibriel, about his dream, watching the myriad of emotions appear—surprise, shock, amusement, worry, annoyance—before finally settling on understanding.

“Myrddin...” she began in a gentle voice, making the little wizard feel that he was in for a lecture. He remained silent, not responding to her call. She clucked a little, bending down to look him in the eyes. He was surprised to still see the affection in them, even after all the stupid things he’d done. “Myrddin, old friend, I know you just want to help the children; I do, but you mustn’t meddle.”

“But—” he began, but a slim, delicate finger on his pale lips silenced him.

“Uh, uh, uh,” she scolded, making shame burn his pale face, but her mouth was set firmly, and she would not back down now. “Prophecy or not, if they are meant to be, they will get together. They do not need you to help them with that.”

He nodded, knowing that, as usual, Nana’s wisdom had come to the rescue. But there was one thing that was nagging at him, one that hadn’t stopped nagging since his prophetic dream a few days back, right before his source had told him about Jibriel’s arrival in the Mainland.

“Höðr will burn...” the ominous voice had said, but what exactly did it mean?

“Nana—” he began again, and she cut him off, knowing exactly what he was about to say.

“Let us deal with things one step at a time, Myrddin. After all, I haven’t yet even laid my eyes upon our new guest, so how can I be of any help?” she asked, and he sighed; she was right, of course. But Jibriel was currently asleep, and he was loath to break that peaceful slumber.

“I will personally introduce him to you on the morrow, Nana,” he promised, making her smile at the exaggerated, sweeping bow he used to seal the deal. She was probably glad that he was no longer acting somber. Nana didn’t like it when dark clouds hung over the Höðr palace. Myrddin knew this, and decided to try to keep those clouds away, even if it required some high class, omnipotent magic. “Goodnight for now.”

She smiled, nodding her head, and opened the door for Myrddin, earning another smile. “Goodnight...”

Jibriel woke up to sunlight, something he hadn’t done since before his capture. His eyelids fluttered, and his full mouth opened with a yawn, as he blearily blinked golden eyes. Then they snapped open, surprised, as he sat up to look around, his heart beating against his ribs like a bird trapped in a cage. The quailing of the organ stopped once he realized where he was, remembering the events of the previous day.

“I am in Lord Myrddin’s castle, in the wintry land of Höðr...” he whispered to himself, pulling the blankets closer around his petit form to fight off the morning chill. He felt warm because of this revelation, but a little afraid, too. He was now free from that cruel mercenary, but that man, the Prince Leonhart, had not wanted him around the night before, so what if he made him return to the mercenary? He shivered at the thought. “Bless me, Mother, and may your light always resonate within the darkness.”

He said the prayer with long-fingered hands folded before his chest, eyes closed, and was startled from the position by a knock on the door. It wasn’t particularly loud, a soft and gentle knock, but he gazed at the door as if it were a beast, eyes as wide as that of a doe. Finally, he realized that whomever was at the door should not be made to wait.

“Come in...” he said, voice laden with defeat and nervousness, hoping it was Myrddin and not the scathing ruler, but he was surprised when neither men came through the door, instead admitting a gentle-faced woman. She was pale, like almost everyone he’d met in Höðr, with light brown hair, different from that of Leonhart’s, and soft brown eyes.

“Hello, dear,” the woman chirped, taking him in with those kind eyes. She shook her head slightly in disapproval, making him worry, but it did not last long. “To believe Myrddin would dress you in my garments, not that you don’t look beautiful in them. It’s just, it was so inappropriate of him. Oh, that Wizard!”

Jibriel blinked at this, confused, and looked down at his attire for the first time. A black nightgown. He couldn’t see what was wrong with it. It was soft and smooth against his skin, made of a material that probably didn’t exist in Chad, and covered up what it needed to. Albeit, it was a little too thin for the frigid air of Höðr, but he had also been well provided with blankets and the warm fire of a hearth.

“I do not see what is wrong, my lady,” he assented finally, blushing because of his ignorance. She, however, seemed greatly amused, her pinkish lips pulled up into a smile, not unkind.

“Do not worry your pretty little head over it. You can keep the gown if you’d like—sleep in it? But I do believe I should get you something else to wear for the day,” she mused, and he nodded at this, watching her turn to leave the room. She turned back right before leaving. “You’ll wait for me, won’t you?”

She left without waiting for an answer, obviously knowing that Jibriel wouldn’t leave. He placed a small, bare foot on the floor, and drew it back almost immediately.

“It is very, very cold in this land. Nothing like home,” he mulled softly, almost a whisper, thinking of the sun and sand of Chad. Höðr was piled with layers and layers of ice, pine trees and winter flowers growing through cracks in the icy ground, but no one could deny that it, too, had its own unique beauty. A winter wonderland, as Myrddin had called it. Njord was a bit more like Chad, sandy and bright, but unlike his home, it was more like a desert with a body of water around it. Chad was sandy, but green too, with all sorts of lovely flowers, trees, animals, and places. He would miss the beautiful land dearly. Just then the woman returned, arms filled with all sorts of cloth materials. She placed a pair of slippers, fuzzy and pale pink, before his bed.

“Please put these on and follow me,” she said, waiting for him to do so, before leading him to a chamber laden with white marble floors, crystalline lights, and knobs made of inlaid jewels and stones. “This is your personal bathing chamber. Feel free to relax in the warm water for as long as needed. I know it can be a bit nippy here. I’ll leave your clothes, wash cloth, and towel here, and meet you outside when you’re done.”

He nodded, watching her fill the tub with water, dipping her fingers in to check the temperature, before throwing in some sort of liquid that bubbled quickly, tinging the water gold. She stopped the tap, placing the clothes down on a bench, close enough to the tub if he needed it. She walked out, throwing a final smile over her shoulder.

He sighed, shaking silver hair out of his face, pulled off the slippery gown, and lowered himself carefully into the water. Everything was so different from home. How could he possibly get used to it all?

Jibriel soaked in the bath for the better part of the hour, enjoying the warmth against his roughly treated skin, and finally stepped out when it began to get tepid. In Chad, it was so warm that he would bathe in the cool creaks, lakes, or even the ocean, but he guessed most in Höðr were addicted to the warmth of these porcelain baths, and he had no doubt that he’d soon become addicted himself.

The boy rubbed his skin down gently with a downy towel, thinking of how the sun used to dry him at home, but was relieved for the soft material of it. He then pulled on a crisp white shirt, buttoning it with clumsy fingers, and pulled on a pair of long black slacks, retaining warmth in his already air-chilled legs. He rubbed the towel into his hair, already feeling the chill of the water in the frozen air, and walked out of the bathing chambers, feet still encased in the fuzzy slippers.

The woman was sitting patiently on his bed when he arrived, making him feel guilty for having her wait so long, but she seemed unfazed, clapping cheerily at his arrival.

“Oh, you look very handsome!” she said with an ecstatic smile, making him flush and smile shyly. “But those shoes are like the gown, only for sleeping and lounging around in. Try these on.”

She handed him a pair of knee-high brown boots, laced up with silky strings of rope. He pulled them on, watching her hum in acquiesce. She smiled again, looking victorious, and placed her arms around his shoulders, pulling him in for a hug. She was just slightly taller than him, maybe by an inch or so, and her touch was so comforting, her scent so sweet, that he leaned against her, pressing his silver head to the crook of her shoulder. He breathed in, the scent reminding him of his mother a bit, with its flowery-ness and light musk. She smiled, too, looking pleased.

“It’s nice to have someone who is so huggable,” she said with a laugh, making the boy blush. Was it bad for him to be huggable? Everyone was friendly in Chad, welcoming one another’s touch. “Leon is too old, apparently, to hug anymore, and Myrddin is...well, he’s Myrddin, so who knows what that hug could lead up to. Not to say he’s a bad person, but Wizards are difficult by nature.”

He blinked in confusion at this, making her coo, but then her pretty mouth opened in an ‘o’ of surprise.

“I am so silly!” she said suddenly, brown eyes wide and face flushed. “We have never even introduced ourselves formally. Let’s start over; I am Nana Christian of Höðr, Leonhart’s nurse, and Myrddin’s childhood friend. Or rather, he’s my childhood friend, as not many people can say they knew him as an actual child.”

He was a little confused by the comments about Myrddin and Leonhart, as he didn’t know them very well yet, or in Leonhart’s case, at all, but he liked the woman, Nana, already, and was eager to introduce himself to her.

“My name is Jibriel,” he returned with a smile. “but you can call me Jibri. Lord Myrddin calls me that.”

Nana smiled, too, brows furrowed curiously at the strange name. No doubt Myrddin, lover of history and facts that he was, would do some research into it, and the overall culture of Jibriel’s people.

“Jibri, then? That’s lovely. Now, let’s get going. I will have a special breakfast made just for you,” she said, smiling, and took the boy’s hand, leading him away, giving him no time to ponder whether Leonhart would join them. It wasn’t that he disliked the Alpha, as Myrddin had told him rulers of Höðr were called, but that it was pretty obvious that the Alpha disliked him.

Jibriel hid behind Nana as they walked, pausing occasionally, so the woman could introduce him to this guard or that maid. The palace attendants all gazed at him in confusion, but offered kind enough smiles. It soon became apparent that Nana wanted to make him more comfortable in the huge palace, even going so far as to ask him what sorts of foods he liked, and suggesting them to the chef for breakfast. He didn’t have much experience with the food of the land, however, so he just told her something sweet, which was true enough. She seemed to find that simply adorable, though the boy couldn’t fathom why.

When they arrived in the dining hall a small while later, it was, as promised, decked out with things drizzled in honey and melted chocolate, though he couldn’t recognize half of what it was. Nana took a seat in a chair two to the side of the table’s head, beckoning for him to sit near her, by the head of the table.

“Myrddin sits across from me, and your position is normally where the Beta, or Consort, sits, but no one will mind if you sit here for now,” she declared. He was about to object, disagreeing with the sentiment, but then, in a flurry of smoke and robes, Myrddin arrived, smiling alternately between Jibriel and the treats set up for breakfast.

“Jibri, Nana, my two favorite people!” he said cheerily, emerald eyes glinting behind his thick lenses. “So glad the two of you have met one another. What do you think?”

Both Jibriel and Nana smiled at him—Nana’s wide, while Jibriel’s was shy, his face flushed. The flush darkened when Nana began to speak, spewing compliments.

“I love the little dear,” Nana said, taking a small pastry dipped in honey and placing it on the boy’s plate. “It’s been so monotonous in the palace lately, and I think things will be a lot better with a sweetheart like Jibriel around.”

Myrddin nodded at this, completely in agreement, before shaking his head in annoyance.

“Hopefully you can get that through the head of that hard-headed boy. He doesn’t listen to me...” he sulked, pouting. Then, abruptly, he swung around, glaring at the entrance to the dining hall. No sounds were heard outside, but soon enough, Leonhart walked through the door, looking unfazed when he saw the wizard’s glare. “Speak of the Devil.”

“Not quite,” Leonhart sneered, looking like he was about to get in Myrddin’s face out of anger. Apparently, the Alpha was in a bad mood, but that seemed to evaporate when his silver eyes caught sight of Jibriel, watching them both worriedly with wide, frightened eyes. He sighed, running a gloved hand through messy brown locks. “Good morning, all.”

His voice was dry, but Myrddin, the master of reading emotions like a book, smirked at the nervous swallow he could almost hear. Both were surprised, though it was more pleasant for Myrddin, when Jibriel responded.

“Good morning...” the boy said shyly, turning golden eyes towards the ground, hands fisted in the material of the pants Nana had given him. The Alpha, in response, seemed to be at a loss. This was the first time he saw the mesmerizing golden eyes, heard the magical, siren-like voice. Myrddin gleefully noted the bead of sweat that ran down the handsome man’s cheek, dripping to the floor.

“Er...um...good morning?” Leonhart’s voice almost sounded like a squeak, and the brunet had to pause and clear his throat before once again attempting to speak.

“You said that already,” Jibriel pointed out, now looking up at the other male, voice laden with confusion. His face, like his voice, was so adorably confused, finger on chin like a posing doll, that Myrddin began to laugh, the sound ringing through the quiet hall. Leonhart’s pale face flushed darkly, looking like a strawberry on top of one of the pastries.

“Can we just eat now!?!” the man eventually snapped, voice harsh, and Jibriel’s confusion melted into hurt, eyes turning down once more. The man could swear he even noted the spark of tears in the shining gold orbs, and sighed, filled with that annoying emotion that never let up—guilt. “I’m sorry; I'm just not a morning person. That okay?”

He was surprised when the boy seemed to do a one-eighty at that, a bright smile on face. The boy nodded just slightly, those moon-silver strands bouncing along his shoulders, making the man want to reach out and brush them with the tips of his fingers.

“I forgive you,” he said sweetly, reddish lips lifting into a smile. Apparently, he, unlike Leonhart, was a morning person. “You are much like a hungry lion, yes? A little food shall make you all better.”

Both Nana and Myrddin laughed at this, while the Alpha’s face burned with shame, but he just grunted in defeat and eyed his plate, placing things on it. This seemed a signal to everyone else in the room to start eating, so they did, the clatter and clang of eating utensils singing in the otherwise silent room.

Those fingers, graceful and artistic, were stained with all sorts of delicious syrups—honey, chocolate, cream—and that tiny, oh-so-pink tongue licked them all clean like a kitten would. The boy’s eyes were hooded with pleasure, seeming to penetrate through Leonhart. The man, in return, swallowed, finding it a bit too warm in the dining chambers, though the temperature was probably on the lower side.

Apparently, they didn’t use forks, knives, or spoons in Jibriel’s land, so the boy had asked Nana if it would be alright for him to use his hands—those sinful little hands. If it was up to Leonhart, he would have said no, asked Nana to help the boy cut up his food, but it wasn’t. The brunet woman wanted the boy to be as comfortable as possible. Too bad Leonhart was a bit too uncomfortable in the process.

And, the worst thing was, that damned wizard kept watching him, a mischievous smirk on his childish face. “Damn him,” Leonhart thought through gritted teeth. “If he isn’t already damned enough, that is.”

Silver eyes turned back to the sensual display before him, face heating up again, and turned away. Leonhart didn’t look up from his plate even once that morning, trying to focus his entire mind into the task of cutting and eating his food.

A/N: I hope you guys liked the chapter because, as I've mentioned above, I've gotten a little rusty, so I'm not sure if it transitioned smoothly from my mind to the paper, or word-document, as the case may be. I kind of liked it, but that's just me. I was surprised by all of the reviews last chapter. Fifteen of them, to be precise. --Still in shock-- And they were all so positive. I thought some of you might back off with the mention of m-preg, but you didn't. --Big hug-- About the m-preg, though. Don't worry about it for now. It'll be a while before anything at all happens. ;)

Thanks: All readers, reviewers, favoriters, alerters, and the LJ ones, too. I love you all. Really, you're the light in my day. ^^

Kiki: So sorry this update took a while. I've felt awfully guilty. I'm also sorry I confused you. What I meant was, I will take a look at any story you write if you are someone who has completely followed along Boy Bride. Hope you aren't confused anymore. Thanks, as always, for your kind reviews.

Casper: I'm glad you like the story so far. Hope you like this chapter, too. Leonhart is really gruff right now, but he will soften, and things will get better between them. I promise. Thank you for reviewing.

S. Darkness: That's exactly the reason why I didn't use Greek Gods. I had to read the Illiad, Medea, and Oedipus Rex lately, and they are so dramatic about everything. I don't want my boys to have to deal with an envious Hera, a lustful Zeus, and who knows what else. Glad you're on my page. ^^

Yosi: Doozer and Cheche don't really matter. They're unimportant characters right now. I will go more into Eugene, or Boss. And Nana, hopefully, confuses you less after this chapter. She's basically everyone's mother figure. Jibriel does mean Angel of Allah, at least that's what my parents and Babynames dot com told me. Dawnings are like birthdays because dawn means beginning, so I just made it like that. I'm Bengali, so, being lazy, I made the numbers Bengali. Thank you for all your reviews. ^^

Jamie: Sorry for making you wait so long. Hope you liked Jibriel in this chapter, too, since I tried to make him extra cute. Don't know if it worked. I'm bad at judging my own work. ^^' Thanks for the review.

R&R: I was so surprised by the number of reviews the last chapter garnered, but definitely not disappointed. Not in the least. *Grins* I hope you guys will keep reviewing, especially new readers. I always love a fresh opinion, even if it's ConCrit. ConCrit makes things better, and I definitely want to be a better writer. If you haven't noticed, I'm still in the 'beginner' stage, and I'm absorbing all tips like a sponge, so I can get better. Any help you give me will be fully appreciated. Thanks in advance.