He wishes he hadn't read it.

He hadn't meant to read it. Before today, he wouldn't have even thought to read any of his husband's correspondence. The letter was out on the table, though, and after the Marquise's name had caught his eye, he hadn't been able to resist reading the whole thing.

Now he's stuck here, worrying about it. It doesn't help that he has nothing else to do; this is not a friendly city they are in. He can't even wander the Temple grounds, like he usually can, because Kevian had overheard some of the local clergy saying some truly awful things. He just…reads. Paces. He's written a couple of letters. He doesn't have what he needs for weaving, and his attempts at knitting are lackluster.

Taskin knew he'd be competing with Kevian's vows when he allowed himself to love him. He never imagined that it might look like his husband receiving orders to go to the home of the woman who'd tried to murder him, and do services for her.

His heart hurts that he'd found out by accident, not because Kevian had told him about it. With those thoughts swirling in his head, he can't focus on the latest novel Kevian has brought for him, or the more useful history treatise, or his latest lumpy scarf. That's how he ends up curled up in the bed they share, fast asleep, when Kev arrives home long after dark.

Gentle hands on his face, winding through his hair, wake him. Peeling his eyes open, he finds himself looking directly into his husband's blue and brown eyes. "Are you ill, my heart?" Kev asks when he sees that Taskin is awake.

Taskin curls up a little tighter, wrapping his arms around his knees, but he doesn't pull away from Kevian's warm hand against his cheek. "No," he replies quietly. The cleric's concerned frown deepens, and he lays the back of his hand against Taskin's forehead as if to confirm.

After some consideration, Kevian sits up and pulls Taskin up to a sitting position too, kneeling loosely between his legs. "Talk to me then, dearheart," he steadies Taskin's face so he can't look away. "Because I can see that something is wrong."

"Are you going to Ronewell?" he asks softly.

"Am I…" Kevian's worry turns to confusion, and then, after a moment of thought, to frustration. He drops his hands from Taskin's face and sits back a little. "No, of course I'm not."

"They are orders, though," he points out. "Don't you have to go where the Temple tells you to go?"

"It's more complicated than that. I'm not a soldier, Taskin." Kevian rubs a hand over his face. "I could be sanctioned if I did something harmful or broke the law. And not playing nice with the others in my order too often could certainly hurt my credibility and my influence, and prevent me from advancing and accessing resources and favors. But I don't have to do everything that's asked of me, especially if it goes against what I believe in. I wrote back immediately and declined this posting…along with a blistering message questioning whether she should be offered anything from the Temple at all, based on her recent activities."

"Why didn't you tell me?" Taskin sniffs, trying desperately to hold it together. This does not warrant tears.

"I turned it down immediately, and have scarcely thought of it since."

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to read it," Taskin drops his eyes as soon as he is released, and stares down at the blankets now. "I was looking for something else, and her name caught my eye."

"I don't care that you read it," Kevian snaps. When Taskin flinches away from his sharp tone, he takes a deep breath and goes on, gentler, "I don't have any secrets from you, my heart. I just wish you wouldn't have been torturing yourself with it all day. C'mere, you," he pulls Taskin across the inches of bed and to his chest, wrapping his arms around him protectively.

"I should have told you right away," he sighs regretfully. "I'm sorry she still has the power to hurt you."

"It's not your fault," Taskin nestles deeper into his arms, comforted by the familiar warmth of his husband. They sit in silence for several minutes, both lost in their own thoughts. Absently, Kevian starts to run his fingers through Taskin's hair again.

"I've only got a day or two of work left here, dearheart, and then we can move on."

-------------------------

Kevian looks frustrated. Not mad, which is good, considering, but it could be simmering underneath. He's talking to one of the brace of city guards who'd yanked him out of the crowd shortly before he got trampled; the other half of the pair is lounging next to Taskin, eyes mostly closed, looking amused.

The guard talking to Kevian is exactly what he expects Eschien guards to be - straight-backed, gruff, looks like he could kill Taskin with one hand. When they were dragging him here and getting Kev's name out of him, his bulk had been quite intimidating. Now, next to his bear of a husband, the guard seems more life-size. They both glance in Taskin's direction, their gazes hot enough to make him look down.

"You do this kind of thing often?" the man beside him asks. He's nothing like his partner. Leaner, shorter. Friendlier. He'd done most of the talking to Taskin that wasn't issuing threats. Taskin isn't certain, but he thinks the insignia on the man's shoulder marks him as a mage.

"I wasn't doing anything this time," Taskin mutters.

"I'd come up with a better excuse than that for your man over there, if I were you," he says. Taskin looks over at the mage, who has crossed his arms over his chest, his eyes now fully closed. "We pulled you right out of the middle of that mess, and my partner's not likely to be minimizing that."

Taskin wants to be mad, but knows he doesn't have much of a leg to stand on. Most of the people who'd been around him had been arrested, and would cool their heels for the night - or worse - in the custody of the Imperial City Guard. "Why did you? Pull me out?"

"Shadi's my patron too. I'm not in the habit of letting someone who is under the protection of one of Their chosen get harmed."

"What?" He knows that Shadi is his husband's patron, but he's at a loss as to how these two random guards in their newest city would have any idea, much less connect Taskin to Kev and his deity in the middle of a mob. "What did he do, put my picture out in some sort of city-wide bulletin?"

Slowly, the man's eyes open. His gaze flickers down to Taskin's chest and then back up. "Kid, you're lit up like a beacon. You didn't know?"

Shaking his head, Taskin closes his hand over the pendant hanging in the middle of his chest.

"Well, maybe the two of you have more to talk about than just your little adventure today." The guard stands up, and Taskin realizes that Kev and the man's partner have wandered over. With him still sitting, the two of them tower over him.

"Your husband says you don't make a habit of this sort of thing. I hope that's true, or if not, he can impress upon you the foolishness of your actions," the bigger guard lectures. "This group was fairly harmless, and this city is reasonably open-minded. But this is the Empire, son. Even a god's touch won't save you if you get mixed up with the wrong folks. I still have half a mind to let you sit in the cells with them overnight, just for a taste of what can be."

Taskin's head jerks up, and he knows his eyes are wide with alarm. He starts to beg, the first words tumbling nearly incoherently out of his mouth, but the man holds up a hand. "None of that, son. Kevian here has already pled your case. I'm willing to let this go, seeing as you're new to our shores, and naught much more than a child anyhow, but do not let me find you wrapped up in any of this nonsense again, do I make myself clear?"

"Yes, sir," he murmurs, when his initial nod only gets an arched eyebrow - from the guard and from Kev.

"You'll adjust. I remember what it's like to be young and idealistic. It must be even harder, coming from outside," the mage-guard pats his shoulder as he slips past to join his partner, and gives Taskin a little grin. Taskin manages to summon his own smile in return, because he can see what the mage is doing, downplaying the severity of Taskin's actions in the same way that his partner had just built them up. He hopes that Kevian will see more of the mage's side than the stricter guard's, but he knows it will likely be only a hope. "Change is not impossible in the Empire, my young friend, but this sort of ruckus isn't the way to go about it."

The mage gives Kevian some sort of salute Taskin hasn't seen before, touching just over his head with three fingers twice, and then the two of them disappear. Kevian closes and locks the door behind them, and he's alone with his husband. The cleric turns slowly, arms crossed over his broad chest, and Taskin does his best not to quail under the man's stare.

"You're lucky that decade of guards had a mage with them. You're luckier still that he has a relationship with my patron and wasn't willing to hack Them off." The scholar can feel the weight of his husband's disapproval. "Tell me, Taskin, what were you thinking?"

"They were protesting for the preservation of the marshlands and restrictions on the amount and methods used in the hunting of magical species," he pleads for understanding. "I can't just sit back and do nothing when there are people out there standing up for the things I care about. It's important to me."

"I know it is," Kevian shakes his head. "I understand your desire to make a difference, stormheart. But this isn't the way to do it. You could have gotten yourself seriously hurt."

"I left you a note," Taskin snaps. He knows it's the wrong way to have this discussion, and he tries hard to choke down his defensiveness, but it's not working. "And your friends the guards were the only danger - the protestors weren't violent. If they had just left them alone, it would never have gotten heated the way it did."

"If you believe that, you don't understand the consequences of your actions here, and maybe I should take you back to Mythlight." His voice is hard, and Taskin flinches, but Kevian pushes on. "I can't always be here. If I can't trust you to take care of yourself, maybe you need a full-time keeper."

"Kevian!"

"I love you, and I want you with me, but I won't put that over your safety, my heart."

"That's not fair," Taskin can feel his face flushing with heat, and he glares up at his partner. "I was just standing up for my beliefs."

Kevian studies Taskin for an uncomfortably long time, and then crosses the room to sit down beside him. "Answer me this: when did you find out about this group? When did you decide to go to the protest?"

The way his stomach falls to his feet is the same as the sound of a trap snapping shut. "I…" He swallows. It feels like a whole swarm of moths has taken up residence in his stomach. Kevian isn't going to like the answer, and Taskin isn't going to lie to him. He drops his head, studying the small amount of fabric he can see in the space where their legs don't touch. He should have talked to Kev about his plans, but he hadn't wanted him to worry - or to argue about whether he could go.

As if sensing Taskin's thoughts, Kevian reaches out and gently takes hold of his chin, lifting his face so that their eyes meet. "If you tell me it was an impulse decision you made today while I was out, I'll let this go," he says, but the real promise is in what he doesn't say; if it wasn't an impulse choice, this is a different conversation. Very slowly, he shakes his head, wincing at the flash in his husband's eyes before the man takes a breath, inhaling deeply and exhaling slowly.

"I won't do it again," he says, a little desperately now. "I'm sorry."

"You're sorry you got caught," Kevian counters, sounding tired. Shame washes over Taskin. Feeling guilty for putting that expression on his lover's face, he lifts a hand to his mouth to nibble nervously at a hangnail. He wants to argue the point, but he is mostly sorry he got caught. He didn't intend to get arrested or caught up in anything dangerous, but he needs to do something. He knows that his husband is right - there had to be a better way to effect change in the Empire than how he's been going about it. But how can he possibly make a difference when everyone around him seems content to accept the status quo?

Kevian suddenly stands, and he looks up at him, apprehensive.

"Stay put," the cleric says, and Taskin can't bring himself to watch as he walks to the other side of the room, though he can't ignore the sounds of him looking for something, and when he comes back into Taskin's line of sight, he can't ignore the wooden hairbrush he has in his hands. It feels like the entire swarm of butterflies in his stomach takes off all at once. He scoots to the corner of the couch, as far from Kevian as he can get.

Which leaves plenty of room for the other man to sit down near the middle, setting the hairbrush just within reach on the arm of the couch. "Come here."

"I can't just sit around and do nothing," he protests, but it sounds weak even to his own ears.

"We're going to finish this conversation with you over my knee, my heart. Come here."

Reluctantly, he slides towards Kevian. As soon as he's close enough, the bigger man grabs his arm and pulls. Taskin lands over his knees with a grunt and then whines as his husband divests him of his trousers and underthings, and sweeps his tunic up, leaving him bare to the kiss of cool air. He wiggles, just a little, but he's held securely and doesn't budge at all.

His partner's warm hand running over his butt is a stark contrast to the cool air, and he resists the urge to squirm some more; a resolve that is chased away by the first impact of Kevian's palm to his right cheek. When it's followed by a matching spank on his left cheek, and then a barrage more, he gives in to the urge to wiggle. Kevian is quiet, focused, until Taskin is convinced he's forgotten about the rest of the conversation, and just decided to hand out summary justice. Each swat now is a spark to the fire, and he's biting back yelps, toes pressed into the floor to keep himself still.

That flies out the window when his husband lands a couple of extra-hard swats right in the crease between bottom and thigh; Taskin cries out and kicks his feet, trying to get himself out of the line of fire. He's unsuccessful; Kevian holds him tight and rests his now very warm spanking hand on his back, just above his burning bottom.

"Now that I am sure I have your attention," the cleric says, and his voice is firm, but contains no judgment. Taskin does his best to lie still and listen. "I believe that you didn't fully understand the possible consequences of joining that protest today. But I also know that if you thought it was truly harmless, you would have talked to me about it. You knew, or suspected, enough about it that you thought I wouldn't approve, and so you hid it from me. Am I wrong?"

Taskin knows that he's signing his own fate when he quietly answers, "No." But getting swept along with the crowd as they started to get violent had been frightening, and so had been the guard's stern lectures and the threat of imprisonment. Kevian and the guards were all right; he had been foolish and reckless. But he also knows that he can't simply ignore the injustices he sees around him. It is a difficult balance to strike - how to fight for what is right without putting himself in danger. Today, he fell right off the line.

"You could have been hurt. You could have been arrested, and since you are not a citizen, you know that could have turned out quite dangerous for you," Kevian lectures. "That is why I am spanking you. Not for what you believe in - for the way you went about showing it. Do you understand?"

"I understand," he whispers, his heart starting to race when the next thing that rests on his vulnerable upturned cheeks is not his husband's hand, but the cool, hard back of the hairbrush.

"I know it's hard, my heart. There are many things in my country that are unfair, unethical, and wrong. But you cannot make a change if you are dead, or living out your days in some prison somewhere." The hairbrush lifts and falls for the first time, and Taskin yelps; it stings so much more than Kevian's hand. "I will roast this sweet bottom every time you put yourself in unnecessary danger, Taskin. It's up to you how often that is."

He doesn't talk after that, just pops the hairbrush down again and again. What starts as uncomfortable is quickly unbearable, each swat stoking the fire higher and higher. Taskin gives up on any attempt to take it quietly; he squirms and kicks, yelps and hisses, but each spank still lands exactly where Kevian wants it to. When his partner tips him forward to attack his sit-spots and upper thighs, curating the same fierce burning fire there, he runs out of fight, going limp and just giving in to the tears.

"Almost done," Kevian murmurs, and then Taskin can't do anything but wail when his partner tips him further forward and lands a half-dozen hard swats directly to the crease where his bottom meets his thighs, three to each side. The hairbrush hits the floor, and it's over.

"Alright, dearheart, you're alright." Kevian gathers him into his arms with touches as gentle as the hairbrush had just been unyielding. He starts to stand them up, and Taskin kicks off the encumbrance of pants and underthings that are now at his ankles to wrap his legs around his partner's waist, burying his face in Kev's shoulder. "Shh, Taskin, shh."

His husband carries him over to their bed, settling them both down without stopping the reassuring touches. "It's done. All forgiven. Come on, dearheart, dry your tears." A soft swipe of fabric across his wet face; he wrinkles his nose, knowing that the sleeve Kevian just used is likely now covered in snot, as well as tears. "It'll wash," his husband chuckles, and then runs his fingers through Taskin's hair with a sigh. "I love you. I need you safe, stormheart."

"I'm sorry," he murmurs, and this time they both know he's saying it for the right reasons, not just because he doesn't want to get spanked. That ship has, after all, sailed. "I just…want to make a difference. Stay true to me."

"I know that, but protesting in the streets can't be the way, not for you. Our marriage only affords you so much protection - you are still an outsider here, and that puts you at much higher risk." Taskin nods slowly, understanding the wisdom in Kevian's words. He knows that he has been given a unique opportunity to learn about the Empire and its people - an opportunity that could benefit his homeland in ways he still can hardly imagine. But now he has more to think about - family to think about. Kevian. Gefin and Kuri. Desily.

"You're a teacher, dearheart. I saw your passion in Mythlight. We just need to find a place where you are safe to share your knowledge without fear of reprisal."

Kevian's not wrong - Taskin just doesn't know where such a place can be found, in the Empire.

-------------------------

"Hey, Kev?"

"Hm?" the cleric hums absently, still bent over the book he's reading, quill scratching repetitively as he takes notes in his journal. Taskin rolls onto his stomach. He'd been lounging on his back, enjoying being able to do so without even a twinge of soreness. The spanking Kevian had given him for his part in the protest had lingered, not helped at all by the long two days they spent in the saddle before he was fully recovered, but it's finally behind him.

Now, he's remembered the weird interaction he'd had with the mage-guard. His own inspection of his pendant yields nothing - he can tell it's magical, but that is the extent of his ability.

"Is there something special about my pendant?"

That gets Kevian's attention, and he puts the book down, swiveling on his stool to look at Taskin on the bed. "Why do you ask?"

"The mage, the guard? He said I was 'lit up like a beacon', and that was why he knew to pull me out of the riot before they started making arrests." Taskin pulls the pendant out from under his shirt, studying it more intensely than he has since Kevian gifted it to him. "He was staring right at this when he said it."

There is an image on both sides of the gold pendant. On one side, a classic symbol for Shadi, a winged heart carved of garnet set on a background of embossed waves. On the other, a sun, with the center circle depicted by a beautiful piece of lirilite gemstone, representing Liril.

His husband stands, stretches lazily, and then comes over and takes a seat next to him on the bed, touching a gentle finger to the pendant. "Yes, it's special. It was originally two amulets, but I had that joined for you," he murmurs, turning it to the side with the sun. "This side I had commissioned, and then Kuri spent a few weeks sinking as many wards and protection charms into it as it would hold. This side…" he turns it over, and when he briefly touches the garnet, it pulses with light, making Taskin swallow a startled yelp.

"This side was a gift from Desily. It's ancient - I have no idea where she found it or how long she'd had it."

"What does it do?" Even Taskin, with his very minimal magical skill, had felt the power in that flash. It felt…otherworldly.

"It marks the wearer as someone under the protection of Shadi," Kevian lets the pendant drop back to Taskin's chest. It would gain you sanctuary at any temple, not just Shadi's, and likely additional help if you needed it. It will also show up for anyone sworn especially to Shadi, like our guard friend."

"Desily gave it to you, though?" Taskin asks anxiously, "And Shadi is your patron. Shouldn't it be yours?"

"I'm sure Desily had no doubts it would end up with you, my heart," Kevian smiles, but it's tinged with something Taskin can't place. Maybe a little sad, maybe a little distant? "I am god-touched, dearheart, Shadi has already well and truly marked me as Their own. Anyone who can see your pendant will see the same thing from me, any time there is a need. This amulet was created for someone like you - someone one of Shadi's chosen wanted protected at all costs."

"Why didn't you tell me?" Sliding over into his lover's lap, Taskin picks the pendant back up and inspects both sides. It's warm in his hand, and now that he thinks about it, it has been quite warm against his skin since he put it on, even when the air around him is chilled to his skin; and not naturally so. "I thought it was just a thoughtful trinket…lovely, expensive, yes, but not…precious."

It takes Kevian a moment to respond, but it's a thoughtful silence, not reluctance to answer, and he's running hands through Taskin's hair, fingers scratching lightly at his scalp. "I guess I didn't want you to rely on it," he says at last. "Kuri's wards are powerful, and Shadi's protection can be invaluable in the right circumstances, but neither can cover every situation. You already have a tendency towards recklessness with your safety, my wild one, I didn't want to give you more of an excuse."

"I'm not that bad," Taskin grumbles. When he feels Kevian's chest rumble in a laugh underneath him, he risks pinching his husband's side to express his annoyance. The swat he gets in return makes him yelp and try to arch away. That, of course, just makes him arch into Kevian, who swats him again and swallows his next yelp in a searing kiss. He's smiling, and Taskin is breathless, when he pulls away.

"Try telling me that again when it isn't the last thing you've gotten spanked for, my heart."