The Sultan and the Storyteller, part 1 Title: The Sultan and the Storyteller, part 1/31 By: Arionrhod and McKay Rated: R Pairings: Remus/Severus, Regulus/Kingsley, Bill/Tonks Summary: Non-magical AU. Professor Remus Lupin finds himself a captive of the sultan of Slythistan, but what is really keeping him there? The bonds of coercion or the bonds of growing love? Notes: This story is complete, but because it's based loosely on the Arabian Nights, we're posting one part per day through November to pay homage to the original tale. Illustrations by karasu_hime. Written for lore on the occasion of her birthday. Happy birthday, lore! We hope you enjoy it! Word count: ~11,800 this chapter/ ~180,000 overall
"Exquisite!"
Remus stepped back from the mosaic, the better to take in the whole effect. Up close, the tiny bits of colored ceramic set into the wall were fascinating in their intricacy, but it was only from a distance that the effect of the whole thing could truly be appreciated, especially as the westering sun decided at that moment to peep through the museum's windows, sparkling in tones of gold and bronze over the jewel-like facets of red, green, and blue, making them shine like gems. He gave a sigh of pure pleasure, the representation of stylized flowers set in geometric patterns among the loveliest things he had seen so far in his travels.
"The museum will be closing in ten minutes," a voice came over the room's speakers, and Remus huffed slightly, disappointed that his time in this wonderful place was coming to an end. Slythistan, however, was only one stop on his tour of Asia and the Middle East, and it had come as quite a surprise. He'd not expected a country which had undergone a civil war only a decade past to have recovered so completely that there were few signs of the conflict remaining; not only that, but the museums still held their priceless treasures, which hadn't been looted or destroyed. It spoke well of the current government, and having seen so many places which hadn't cared for their antiquities as carefully, Remus was more than pleased.
Removing his camera strap from around his neck, Remus slid his precious digital SLR into its padded bag, then placed that inside his backpack. Satisfied that all was secure, he hefted the pack over one shoulder, pushed his steel-framed spectacles up his nose, then ran his hand through his tousled, dark blond hair. He needed it cut, he knew, but he wasn't certain where in this area of the world he dared go; all the men he'd seen tended to wear theirs even longer than his had grown.
The voice warned of the closing again, and Remus stole one more glance at the mosaic before turning regretfully and heading toward the exit.
The man's appearance had been what caught Regulus' attention; he knew the type of man the sultan preferred. How could he not, knowing the sultan as he did? The sultan tended to find the scholarly type attractive, and with his glasses and tweed jacket, this man seemed perfect. At least, Regulus hoped he would be; after over a year of trying and failing to find a man to catch the sultan's eye, he was beginning to despair that he would ever succeed, and his time was running out.
Smiling politely, Regulus approached the man and bowed. "Forgive the interruption, sir, but I could not help but notice you seem to admire my country's humble art and artifacts."
Remus paused, surprised to have been approached by a stranger, but he smiled warmly at the man's words. "Oh, yes, very much so," he replied. "They're lovely, and your people are to be commended on cherishing them so carefully."
"Our sultan values such things highly," Regulus replied. "He is a progressive leader, to be sure, but he understands the importance of history and of preserving our unique culture." He decided to take a risk and see if he could lure the man - a Scotsman, by the sound of it - to the palace, where the sultan could judge for himself whether the man would please him. "Perhaps you would be interested in seeing more? Things that are not usually available to tourists? I am one of the sultan's... advisers," he said, which was not a complete untruth, "and I can give you access to the palace itself, which holds far more treasures than any museum."
After several weeks of traveling through places far more frightening than Slythistan, Remus was quite naturally suspicious of anyone who approached him, particularly when they offered him something for nothing. No one had yet claimed to be an adviser to a national ruler, however, so he gave the man points for originality, at least. Smiling politely, Remus shook his head, disappointed that the offer was nothing but a ruse. How wonderful would it be to get to see the palace itself?
"That's a generous offer, but I shall have to decline," he said, not wishing to give the man any reason to cite him for an offense. He didn't have time to become familiar with the laws of every country, some of which could be surprisingly old-fashioned, so Remus simply endeavored to be pleasant at all times. So far, it had worked.
"Ah, you are cautious," Regulus replied, smiling. "That is wise of you, but I assure you, I am indeed a member of the sultan's household." He pulled out his wallet and offered the Scotsman a look at his ID, a surprisingly modern electromagnetic security card with a photograph and his name on the front.
Remus looked at the card, curiosity flaring as he saw how authentic it looked. Perhaps the man was sincere after all? But if so...
"Why me?" he asked, tilting his head to one side and regarding 'Regulus Black' with bright, inquisitive eyes. "I'm certain you don't invite every foreigner to the palace for a private showing of your national treasures. Why, I could be some kind of thief or conman, and you'd be putting valuable items at risk!" Remus was almost more upset at the thought that valuable historical objects could be stolen than he was at the idea that he might be the victim of some kind of scam.
Regulus chuckled, his eyes alight with amusement. "A thief would hardly announce himself to be a thief," he said. "I invited you because you appeared to have a more genuine appreciation of our art and craft than most of the bored tourists who trudge through like cattle and because the sultan has a keen interest in finding ways to promote tourism. We are a small, growing country, and while our trade agreements are helping us thrive, we are still little known or recognized by the tourism industry. The sultan would like to change that, even if it is only by gaining positive word of mouth from one visitor such as yourself."
Of all the things Remus had expected the man to say, that certainly wasn't one of them, and he blinked in surprise. The words seemed genuine and sincere, and Remus was caught between natural caution and the desire to believe. The man had certainly seemed to read him quite well, and other than his camera, it wasn't as though he had much of any value that would interest anyone.
"I'm a professor of history and archeology," he admitted. "Although my real love is myths and legends from all over the world." He bit his lip, then shrugged, the lure of possibility overcoming his hesitation. "All right, I suppose. It's walking distance, isn't it? If you are willing to be so generous to a stranger, I suppose it would be churlish to refuse. Thank you."
"It is we who will be grateful, if you tell others of how much you enjoyed your stay in our country," Regulus replied smoothly as he turned and guided the Scotsman out of the museum. "The palace is not far, and there is no closing time," he added, smiling. "I will be happy to give you a tour and answer any questions you might have about the artifacts."
Following along, Remus smiled, relaxing now that the decision had been made. "That sounds wonderful," he said, then chuckled and held out his hand. "So sorry, I suppose your offer overwhelmed my sense of manners, and I forgot to introduce myself. I'm Remus Lupin, a professor at the University of Edinburgh. I'm on a bit of a working holiday and enjoying it immensely, I must say, especially your country. I had just been thinking to myself before you approached me that it was a shame my time here is so limited."
Regulus shook Remus' hand firmly. "It is a shame indeed. Perhaps we can persuade you to extend your stay. We have many hidden pleasures to offer." He set an easy pace as they navigated the street, although he was eager to return to the palace and show the sultan this attractive Scotsman.
Remus had been along this street several times in the course of the last three days, for it contained several museums and art galleries, as well as his hotel further along. The palace was also nearby, and he'd walked past it, gazing up at the fairy tale spires and domes with appreciation. "Unfortunately, my visa for your country is expiring, and I must be on my way," he said, sighing quietly. "I have several more stops on my trip as well, and I'll be finishing up in India in two weeks. But I certainly plan to return, if I can... and I most assuredly will never forget my visit here, especially after this!"
"I am quite glad to hear it," Regulus replied, smiling widely. An expiring visa was certainly no impediment if the sultan took a liking to Remus Lupin, and he wasn't worried on that front.
Within minutes, they had reached the palace gates, and Regulus led Remus to a private entrance; he swiped his card, and when the door opened for him, he ushered Remus inside. "Welcome to the palace, Professor Lupin. It is the primary residence of our sultan and the repository of many of our most valuable treasures. If we are very lucky," he added archly, "we might meet the sultan himself."
That remark was not only for Remus' benefit, but also for the palace guards stationed by the door; it was a prearranged message, for it was not the first time Regulus had brought a man to the palace for the sultan's approval. As soon as Regulus and the professor were out of sight, one of the guards would send word to the sultan, who would "just happen" to cross their paths later. If the sultan took an interest in Regulus' "guest", Professor Lupin would be made an offer; if the sultan was not interested, then Professor Lupin would be given a tour and sent on his way, none the wiser that he had been vetted as a potential lover for the sultan.
Despite the fact that he'd decided to trust Regulus, Remus was still vaguely surprised and even more pleased to find that his acquaintance had been sincere. He held his breath in anticipation as they entered the palace, Regulus's off-handed comment about meeting the sultan barely registering. What would royalty care about some insignificant tourist? In the meantime, Remus was suddenly in the midst of something that was straight out of the Tales of the Arabian Nights.
Eyes wide, Remus smiled in delight as Regulus led him into the palace. Even the entrance hall, while obviously not the formal entry, was still beautiful, the architecture delicate and the decoration breathtaking. He was probably gawking like any uneducated tourist, but Remus didn't care; this chance meeting was turning out to be the highlight of his entire trip. Imagine him, Remus Lupin, getting a private tour of the royal palace! No one at home was going to believe this; he almost didn't believe it himself.
"Incredible," he murmured, peering at everything with the delight and wonder of a child. "This must be my lucky day!"
"I hope it is a lucky day for us both," Regulus murmured, glancing sidelong at Remus. "This way," he said in a louder voice, gesturing for Remus to follow him down a long corridor, their footsteps echoing off the marble floor.
After a minute or two of walking, they reached one of the galleries, and he opened the door with a grand, sweeping gesture, genuinely pleased to show off the priceless artifacts within. "Here you will see examples of ancient pottery and statuary," he said proudly. "There are more mosaics, such as you admired in the museum, elsewhere in the palace."
"Oh, my..." There simply weren't words to describe the awe Remus felt as he gazed at the priceless objects on display. Walking slowly, he moved from relic to relic, his education giving him the knowledge to identify many of the items. Those he couldn't immediately name, he still examined closely, feeling rather like a child in a sweet shop as he murmured words of admiration and occasionally gasped in surprise at the perfection he was being allowed to see.
He found a fine carving of a horse done in alabaster particularly entrancing. "This must be a thousand years old," he exclaimed. "And it's perfect! Look at the detail on the carving, It's as though the artist finished it yesterday!"
"When in truth, he has been dead for approximately twelve-hundred years." A new voice, one deeper and smoother than Regulus', entered the conversation, and Remus whirled to see a man standing in the doorway.
The newcomer was tall and thin, and he wore black robes accented with emerald green and silver that were obviously finer and more expensive than the robes worn by the average citizen; his dark eyes were lined with kohl, and his slender fingers were ornamented with jeweled rings, just one of which likely cost more than Remus made in five years. He moved closer, seeming to glide across the floor, and Regulus bowed as he approached.
"Do you like what you see, then?" he asked in accented but perfect English.
Remus was struck dumb, a rather novel experience for him, but unavoidable in this case. How could he be expected to speak when he could feel the man's voice sliding over his skin like a brush of black velvet? Then there was his gaze, dark eyes standing out as they flicked over him. There was power in those eyes and a self assurance the likes of which Remus had never encountered before, and it was heightened by the way the man moved, as though the ground itself hesitated to touch him. This could only be the sultan - man above men, ruler of rulers. In his culture, this culture, he was the next thing to a god, and it seemed as though he knew it.
The presence of royalty was certainly not something Remus was familiar with, but he was intelligent enough to follow Regulus's lead. Blessing the dance lesson his mother had insisted upon - and which he had secretly loathed - Remus bowed low as well, although he couldn't resist the imp of mischief which caused the words that he uttered in reply.
"I'll look to like, if looking liking move," he said, daring to glance up at the sultan, his blue eyes sparkling with humor as he quoted Shakespeare. "But no more deep will I endart mine eye than your consent gives strength to make it fly."
"What an interesting idea to apply to the viewing of art," the sultan said, gesturing for them both to rise. "Romeo and Juliet, if I am not mistaken." His dark eyes roamed up and down the length of Remus' body as the sultan seemed to study Remus intently for a moment. "Regulus, kindly introduce us and tell me what new friend you have brought into my home."
"Certainly, your highness." Regulus stepped forward quickly. "This is Remus Lupin, a professor from Edinburgh. Professor Lupin, this is--"
The sultan cut Regulus off with a wave of his bejeweled hand. "Let us not overwhelm him with titles." He looked at Remus directly. "You may call me Severus."
Remus straightened, surprised and a bit overwhelmed that the sultan of Slythistan would offer his given name, as though they had casually met at a pub rather than Remus being a gawking tourist in his royal palace. It was all a bit surreal, but Remus was nothing if not flexible. There would be time for a meltdown later.
"Thank you," he replied, not wanting to stare but unable to help himself. It wasn't as though sultans popped out of the woodwork every day, after all, but he tempered the expression with a self-deprecating smile. "It's certainly an unexpected pleasure to meet you, your highness. And your home is beautiful, certainly worthy of the highest praises of the Bard, which I hope I may borrow as I've not the wit at the moment to come up with ones of my own."
"My predecessors had more to do with the creation of its beauty than I," Severus replied. "I have endeavored to restore and enhance what was given to my care, however." He lifted one eyebrow inquisitively. "Would you care to see more?"
The modest words were surprising, and Remus' smile widened to one of delight, the corners of his eyes crinkling. "I would indeed," he said, pushing his glasses up. "For a historian, this is rather like being a child dropped into the middle of sweet shop. I can't decide what to look at first!"
A small, slight smile tugged at the corners of Severus' mouth; he was a somber man by nature, not given to easy smiles or laughter, but Remus Lupin's delight was infectious. He noticed the way Remus pushed his glasses up his lightly freckled nose, no doubt a product of the sun, and the gesture inexplicably enchanted Severus; he had always had a weakness for men who wore glasses, and Remus Lupin in particular looked appealingly tweedy and tousled. Perhaps it was a product of Severus' English education or that his first love affair had been with one of his former professors at Oxford, but he found himself unable to resist the distracted, rumpled scholar type.
"Then come with me, and I will show you more delectable treats," he said, lifting one hand and beckoning. "Is there any particular type of artifact that interests you?"
Feeling rather like Alice following the White Rabbit, Remus obediently moved forward to follow his host. In what world did a sultan play tour guide to a professor from Scotland? Certainly not in anything not found in literature, Remus was certain, but it was really happening. No one would believe this back home; he wasn't even certain he believed it himself. But at the same time, he was quite able to suspend his disbelief, his passionate interest in the treasures of the palace driving out any other thought.
"I particularly enjoy myth and legend," he said, quickening his steps to keep up with the sultan's much longer legs. "I'm interested in everything, of course, but if there are any artifacts that have to do with your cultural legends and heroes, you'll no doubt have to drag me away from them." He flushed, his cheeks turning pink as he realized how presumptuous he sounded. "Excuse me, your highness, I didn't mean to sound so impertinent."
The blush in Remus' cheeks was utterly delightful, and Severus glanced back at Regulus and gave a small nod of approval. They had known one another for years, even before Severus became the ruler of Slythistan; Regulus knew Severus' tastes, and he had chosen well when he had decided to invite Remus Lupin to the palace. Severus would see to it that he was rewarded generously.
"Not at all," Severus replied smoothly. "I find it refreshing to meet someone with a genuine interest in our legends. It is quite rare." He turned a corner and led Remus into a smaller room, the walls of which were entirely covered in tapestries. "You may find these of interest," he said, gesturing to the tapestries. "They depict various tales and legends. Here is our creation story," he explained, moving to the one nearest the entrance. "You can trace the path of the sun god starting here," he pointed to the bottom of the large tapestry, "with his birth, overthrowing his siblings, and finally his ascension." He ended at the top right corner of the tapestry, where an abstract sun was depicted in faded gold thread. "The other tapestries depict other stories, some of gods and some of mortal heroes."
"Ooooh..." Remus' eyes and mouth were perfectly round with wonder, and he moved to stand next to Severus, not even thinking about the distance Severus might expect a commoner - and a foreigner to boot - to keep from his royal person. He was all scholar now, his eyes following the path of Severus' finger as he deciphered the story on the tapestry. "This is fantastic! The workmanship itself is stunning, but the richness of the depiction of the story rivals anything painted in the most lavish tombs in Egypt!"
Engrossed in his study, Remus brushed past his host and moved eagerly to the next tapestry. "Oh, this must be the first sultan!" he exclaimed, bending low to examine the figures near the bottom. "My goodness, is that his harem, or did he have a plethora of daughters? Ah... no, that must be his harem, with the gates and the guards. The lotuses are stunning, too! It almost seems as though you should be able to smell them!"
Remus' single-minded focus was both amusing and oddly endearing, and Severus watched indulgently. "Lotuses are still grown on the palace grounds," he said. "It is a tradition, as is the harem."
"Really? Lotuses?" Remus straightened, tilting his head to one side as he regarded the sultan with bright-eyed curiosity. "And harems too? How do you..." He bit off the question, flushing a bright crimson this time, and chuckled uncomfortably. "Please, excuse me. Intellectual curiosity sometimes causes my tongue to run away."
"Curiosity is not a sin," Severus replied, amused anew by Remus' impetuous questions and bashful blush. "If you have a question, ask it. If it pleases me to answer, I will." He moved to the next tapestry, studying the workmanship as Remus had done, able to see it with newly appreciative eyes thanks to Remus' fresh perspective.
Remus debated with himself for a few seconds, then decided that the sultan must mean it, or he wouldn't seem so amused by Remus' thoughtless babbling. Besides, this was hardly centuries ago when a man could be beheaded simply for looking at the sultan the wrong way.
"Um... well..." he said slowly, his blush not lessening in the slightest. "I imagine keeping that many women, um, satisfied must take a lot of the fun and spontaneity out of things. One seems demanding enough, and a whole harem is just..." Remus shook his head and gave an unconscious shiver.
Severus gave him an arch look in response. "Perhaps it does, but I would not know. My harem does not consist of women. There is also the fact that tradition dictates it is not the sultan's job to keep his harem satisfied; it is the harem's job to keep the sultan satisfied. Mine is small, but I have no complaints." He paused, studying Remus for a moment and mulling over what Remus' remark had revealed. "You seem to have experienced some trouble with women," he said, leaving the unspoken question hanging for Remus to answer or ignore as he chose.
It didn't take a genius to put two and two together from what the sultan said, but it still made Remus blink in confusion. The sultan of Slythistan was... gay? And openly so? That was a surprise, and it gave Remus an odd feeling in the pit of his stomach, one that he didn't care to examine too closely. So there was a small group of young men who waited upon the sultan's pleasure? It was, as he'd noted before, not several hundred years ago. Unusual, perhaps, but no longer shocking.
His distraction was such that he found himself answering the question he'd been asked automatically, without thinking. "I'm engaged to be married," he said, sighing. "Not my idea, but my family's. They've decided it's time I settled down. I suppose they're right, but I'm just as happy to keep it a long engagement."
Severus nodded, satisfied with that response; he prided himself on his ability to spot homosexual men, and in this culture, it was a sorely needed skill. His people tolerated his "eccentricities" because he was a hero and a competent ruler who had brought peace and prosperity to the tiny country, but homosexuality was not universally approved of even in this day and age. He had picked up the right vibe from Remus and had been momentarily nonplussed by Remus' mention of women, but his aversion to marriage seemed to support Severus' suspicions. It was time to test the waters, which would determine how this encounter would end.
"You allow your family to dictate the course of your life?" he asked, reaching out to touch Remus' flushed cheek lightly with his forefinger. "How unfortunate, when it sounds as if you have not found the right person as yet."
The gentle touch was a surprise, not just because someone of the sultan's power was deigning to touch him, but also because the brief contact sent a small shock through him, like nothing Remus had ever felt before. It was odd, but not unpleasant, and he didn't move away, suddenly feeling a bit resentful and defensive because of the accusation.
"No, I don't allow them to dictate the course of my life," he said, unaware of the unhappiness which flashed in his eyes. "Not all of us have the power to do exactly as we wish or to have a harem that is commanded to please us. Some of us have to be practical about our lives. We do things to make other people happy because it's the right thing to do. No doubt everything will work out all right in the end; my family knows me very well, after all, and they want me to be happy, too."
There were so many things wrong with what Remus had said that Severus was inclined to dismiss all of it out of hand as being utterly ridiculous. He was aware that he had a privileged existence, but even normal people had the right to make their own choices and not worry about practicality when it came to choosing a life partner. Clearly, Remus was either foolish or in denial about himself. Perhaps both. Whatever the case may be, whatever qualms Severus might have had over attempting to coax Remus Lupin into sharing his bed were swept away. Remus needed to be rescued from himself, and Severus was just the man to do it.
"No doubt they do," Severus replied smoothly, and he gestured to Regulus, who had been hanging back and trying to remain unobtrusive while he watched the unfolding tableau with delight. "Refreshments, Regulus. We have much more to see, and I believe our guest may require fortification."
Drawing in a deep breath, relieved that he'd not overstepped his bounds with the sultan, Remus murmured a soft thanks and then returned his attention to the tapestries while Regulus hurried out of the room. They seemed to be tracing the history of the dynasty bit by bit, and Remus moved along, needing to keep himself occupied and put just a little distance between himself and his host. He didn't pay too close attention to the individual representations, however, until he reached a tapestry that was obviously newer than the rest, its color rich and vibrant, the threads unfrayed by time or touch. Interested, he looked more closely, seeing the representation of what could only be a war, with two figures squaring off near the center, one of them appearing to be older with a cruel countenance; the other was tall and elegant with a prominent nose that bore an uncanny resemblance to the current sultan. Remus drew back, barely resisting the urge to reach out and touch the vibrant silk threads.
"Oh... this is you, isn't it?" he asked, his eyes gleaming with excitement once again. "You've kept up the tradition. That's marvelous!"
"It is indeed," Severus replied, his voice full of pride as he approached and gazed at the tapestry. "This is a simplified version of the story. The true tale is far more complex, of course, but this explains what happened, if in somewhat mythic format. My predecessor used superstition and fear to control the people, even making them believe he was a necromancer, and he infiltrated all levels of power until at last, he took the throne from the sultan via assassination and established himself as dictator. My family are one of the oldest, most respected in the country, the type he courted to help cement his place on the throne. I pretended to support him at first, but secretly, I aligned myself with a group of rebels. Had he been a competent ruler, we might not have opposed him, but it quickly became clear that he was power-hungry and would drive Slythistan to ruin in his quest for more money, more fame, more glory. More power."
He fell silent for a moment, regarding the tapestry; the images made of thread attempted to capture the heroism of the rebels, but they could not possibly capture the fear of discovery, the danger they were in every moment of every day, the threat of execution that loomed over their heads should they be caught, or the horrific terror of being caught up in a fight to the death.
"My loyalty has always been to my country above all else," he continued in a softer voice. "I could not bear to see him destroy it and its people, and so I fought him, covertly at first and then openly. It was not quite as glamorous as this," he added wryly, gesturing to the tapestry. "No doubt the history books will not mention that the stench of his blood made me ill when the fight was over." He drew himself up proudly. "My role in his downfall made me quite popular, and my bloodline - distantly connected to the deceased sultan, who died with no heir - made me a suitable candidate, and thus I am here, the first democratically elected sultan Slythistan has ever known."
Remus was aware of the story of the country, having read about it at the time it was occurring and reacquainting himself with the general facts in preparation for this trip. But as the sultan had said, the histories didn't mention the human toll the war had taken on its participants, although Remus had studied enough about war and its consequences to understand that there simply was no way ever to take it all in fully without having been there to experience it. He saw the pride in the regal set of the sultan's shoulders and the tilt of his chin, and it was immediately apparent to him that the man's bravery had probably been enhanced by no small amount of personal charisma when it came time for the country to select its new ruler. Yet he could also imagine this man crouching in some foxhole, his dark skin smeared with dirt, his ebony eyes glinting with death as he awaited his opportunity to strike against those who menaced his homeland. He sensed a streak of stern discipline and determination at the sultan's core, and he had no doubt that whatever Sultan Severus of Slythistan wanted, he would find a way to make happen, no matter how great the danger or how impossible the challenge.
Smiling with admiration and relaxed again now that the subject of his life had been left behind, Remus nodded. "Well earned, from what I understand, since your bravery and ferocity were definitely pointed out, if I may say so without seeming patronizing," he said, wrinkling his nose in an unconscious expression of humor.
As powerful as this man was, Remus felt oddly comfortable with him, and that was as unusual as it was unexpected. Remus was a private man, and while he was friendly with his colleagues and many of his students, he tended to keep most people at a distance. He'd been hurt, and hurt badly, by people while still very young, which made it difficult for him to move past a shallow social friendship with most people. Yet here he was, standing with a man who was among the most rich and powerful in the world, and he was starting to feel like they'd known each other for years, a sense of familiarity that no doubt led to his sadly unrestrained tongue in Severus' presence. He ran a hand through his hair, then down his jaw, realizing that he hadn't shaved in a couple of days, and he suddenly wanted to laugh at himself for daring to stand here in his dusty tweed and khakis before a man who was decked out in the finest silk and fantastic jewelry and speak of sounding condescending to him.
This had to be one of the most bizarre situations Remus had ever experienced in his life, and yet he wouldn't trade a single second of it for one of those rings on Severus' long, elegant fingers. He laughed then, a deep, rich baritone rumble, unselfconscious and sounding younger than his years.
"Oh, I am sorry. It just struck me how ridiculous I must sound, talking about someone like me being patronizing toward some like you. Really, I must be suffering from the heat or something. Please, please do pardon me, your highness. You must believe me quite daft, and perhaps I am, at that!"
The sound of Remus' laughter was pleasing to Severus' ears, and he found himself quite charmed by the man; not only did he find Remus' fair skin and pale eyes attractive, but he rather thought he might grow to like Remus as well, which made him an excellent candidate for inclusion in the harem.
"Quite the contrary," he replied, moving closer and resting his hand on Remus' shoulder. "I find you charming, and I am glad Regulus brought you here this evening. Your presence has been quite a novel diversion."
"You are a most tolerant man, your highness," Remus replied, feeling the warmth of the sultan's hand on his shoulder. He was suddenly aware of just how close they were standing, and he felt breathless for a moment, no doubt because of awe, although a part of him, deep down, protested that what he felt at that moment had nothing to do with Severus' position or title and everything to do with the man himself. That was not a path he was ready to traverse, even in the privacy of his own mind, and so he smiled, trying not to think of those long, slender fingers touching him. He didn't move away, either, although the tell-tale flush of color stole back into his cheeks.
The endearing blush was back, and Severus suspected this time, it had nothing to do with embarrassment. He had not risen to the position he had by being stupid or unobservant, and he had a feeling there was far more to Remus Lupin than met the eye. Far more, perhaps, than even Remus allowed himself to admit.
"There are some who would disagree," Severus replied, smiling although there was little mirth in it as he thought of his predecessor's followers whom he had hunted after the war had ended. "But I am no despot." He squeezed Remus' shoulder lightly before lowering his hand to his side once more. "And I am selfish enough to be tolerant of things that charm or amuse me."
Just then, Regulus returned bearing a tray laden with savory delicacies and two ornate goblets; without waiting for Severus to select which cup he wanted first, he picked up the one on the left and offered it to Remus, earning a look of mild surprise from Severus for the breach of etiquette.
But Severus merely reached for the remaining goblet on the tray and held it up, not inclined to chastise Regulus over such a trivial matter. "To your health, Professor Lupin, and to a long and pleasant stay in my fair country," he said.
Remus accepted the goblet, suddenly feeling in need of a drink. He missed the pressure of the sultan's hand on his shoulder, and that was something he simply could not contemplate too closely. Severus' words were confusing as well, seeming to imply that, somehow, Remus himself was amusing or charming, which was ridiculous. Rulers of countries couldn't feel such things about ordinary history professors from Scotland! Besides, why should he care if the sultan thought he was amusing and charming or not? He was leaving tomorrow, and while it would be with definite regret, there wasn't any changing his plans at this point, and that was that.
"To your health, your highness," Remus murmured in reply, deciding not to insult his host by mentioning he would be leaving the following day. "And a long and successful reign."
With that, Remus lifted the heavy cup to his lips and drank deeply. He thought it would be wine, but it was pomegranate juice, fresh and cold and almost too sweet on his tongue, as though mixed with honey. The story of Persephone flashed through his mind for some odd reason, but he was used to his brain throwing odd thoughts up at him at unexpected times. By that caution, he should probably only drink half the contents of the goblet, but Remus was thirsty, and he ended up draining every delicious drop, then lowered the cup and smiled sheepishly as he accepted a tiny pastry from Regulus's tray. "Sorry, I guess I was thirstier than I thought. The desert air, I suppose. It has a way of sneaking up on..."
Remus suddenly found it harder to think, and he looked up at Severus, blinking owlishly behind his glasses. "Kohl looks good on you. You have incredible eyes," he heard his voice say, although he wasn't aware of having spoken.
The remark was such an inexplicable deviation from their conversation that Severus didn't know how to respond at first. Not that he was unaccustomed to compliments, but usually they didn't come out of nowhere. He peered closer at Remus and noticed he was looking a little glassy-eyed, and he whirled to face Regulus, his fists braced on his hips.
"What have you done?" he demanded sharply.
From the glazed look in Remus' eyes, Regulus could tell the drug was taking effect quickly; doubtless, he would have a great deal of explaining to do once Remus woke up and found himself in an unexpected situation, but he couldn't let Remus leave, not when he was the first man Severus had shown any interest in for far too long.
"I hope you will forgive my little subterfuge," he murmured, half to Remus and half to Severus, who glared at him before turning back to check on Remus, concerned about the effects of whatever drug Regulus had given him.
There was something wrong, Remus knew that, but everything was so vague and distant. Everything, that was, except the huge dark eyes that seemed to dominate his vision. Severus and Regulus were speaking, but the words weren't important, even if he could understand them - a feat which was suddenly quite beyond him. No, all that mattered was that Severus' voice was as deep and dark as the desert sky at night, calling him down, down to drown with it in Severus' eyes. He thought he might have reached out, his fingers brushing over Severus' lips, but then all reason slipped away completely, and Remus Lupin knew no more.
Severus didn't hesitate to reach out and catch Remus before he could crumple senseless to the floor, and he glanced at Regulus, his expression sardonic. "A little help, perhaps? This is your kidnapping attempt, not mine."
"I did it for you," Regulus protested as he hastened to put the tray aside and pushed his shoulder beneath Remus' arm. "To a private room in the harem, I suppose?" he asked, and Severus nodded.
"I will have a word with the others and let them know to expect company," he said as he transferred Remus' dead weight over to Regulus. "For now, he should be in a private room, and I want to be informed the minute he awakens."
"It will be done," Regulus replied, nodding, and then he began to half-drag, half-carry Remus away.
"You had better be the one to stay with him yourself," Severus said with an imperious tilt of his chin, waving away Regulus' sputtered protests. "You drugged him. You had best keep watch to make certain he has no adverse reactions to whatever you gave him." He shook his head, his lips pursed in disapproval. "What do you mean, you did it for me? I did not ask you to kidnap tourists!"
"No, but he's the first man I've seen you respond to favorably, and he is - was - planning to leave tomorrow," Regulus retorted. "If you are truly intrigued by him, you will need more time to convince him to remain a while longer, perhaps permanently."
"We could have begun by asking," Severus pointed out dryly, and Regulus grinned.
"We could have, but he might have said no. This way, he can't possibly refuse. Whatever works," he said mildly.
Severus knew the logic was flawed, but he was in no mood to pick it apart at the moment, being too preoccupied with trying to figure out whether this could cause an international incident or not. He sighed and called forAlim, deciding to get Remus Lupin settled in a bed somewhere first. The rest could wait until morning.