The week he walked between Kallus and Pethra was the longest one yet. It wasn’t that he tried to stretch it out. In actuality, he wanted to get it over and done with as soon as possible, but the Fates had other ideas, it seemed. Every step felt like it took twice as long, every landmark on his journey miles further than they had once been.

There was a single benefit to the stretched feeling of time: it gave him a chance to think. That could also be seen as a bad thing, given his tendency to worry away at a particular idea until it did nothing but make him upset. He wasn’t entirely sure how much of his anxiety was warranted and, of course, there was no one he could possibly ask.

How could he even explain such a thing? He doubted any of the other messengers had ever been asked to carry such physical gifts for someone. Why him? Of all people, why did Ambrus think he was the most suited to giving such a thing? Because he was friends with Petros? Because he was kind? Neither of those two things should have pushed Areti to make those decisions and yet, he was the one who had agreed. 

Long before the war, his mother had told him that he was too nice for his own good. He had hoped that war would force that to change, but it hadn’t, not once in all those long years.  

Even so, all his thinking meant that he knew what he needed to do, how he needed to approach the strange situation he found himself in. The long week gave him ample opportunity to figure out what he wanted to do, when he wasn’t lingering over the kiss itself. As expected, it haunted his dreams, but also his waking moments as well. 

For the most part, he brushed it off as nothing more than study. After all, Ambrus had asked him to kiss Petros the way he had. Areti needed to remember how it was done, how he was supposed to do it. If Petros allowed him to. 

If they did… Areti had vowed to himself to do what he needed, but to keep himself away from it, where possible. He would still kiss them, but distance himself from it. The kiss was not for him, so who was he to take enjoyment from it like he had with Ambrus? He was merely giving a gift, that was all. Nothing more, nothing less. 

Despite the week taking longer than he had ever thought possible, arriving at Pethra’s gates felt like it took no time at all. They slid open for him without him having to say a word about who he was and he couldn’t help but suck in an anxious breath. Somewhere among the great stone walls and hulking pillars for a person he was about to kiss. How strange, for that to be something he was so worried about, and not whatever information he had in his bag. 

Petros wasn’t anywhere to be found in the front courtyard. All Areti could see were the waiting warriors training and sparring, desperate to stay in peak physical condition should there ever come a time for them to fight. On any other day, he might join them and find a use for the shortsword that lived against his hip. That day, he was far too jittery to even think about holding it properly.

Perhaps he was delaying the inevitable by heading immediately to the generals that ran Pethra castle, or perhaps he was simply doing the job he was always meant to be doing. It was supposed to be, even if he’d been ignoring the details of it for the last few weeks. Delivering letters around the castle was most certainly procrastinating, but he passed it off as searching for Petros, even though he could have easily gone to their quarters and waited like he had a few times before. 

Two hours passed before he couldn’t pretend he wasn’t there anymore. Word tended to spread quickly when a messenger arrived, everyone excited to learn if they had anything from a friend or loved one. If Petros didn’t know he was there, they soon would, and would come looking for him. 

Find Petros, kiss them, leave. It all sounded so simple, but he knew there would be more to it. Petros always wanted to have a conversation with him, always wanted their letter, and always wanted a drink or meal if it was possible. There was a chance they wouldn’t want any of that after Areti offered the gift, but it was still something he needed to plan for. 

His bag felt far too light, only a handful of things left now that he’d delivered his messages. His food, his bedroll and a single letter that felt heavier than everything else. He played with it, worrying the rough parchment between his fingers, and took a deep breath. 

When he next looked up from the once-polished stone floors of the castle, he stood before a familiar wooden door. He could do it, he had to, for Ambrus. His hand shook when he held it up, but he forced himself forward. The sound of his knocking echoed through the empty hall and for a moment he believed Petros wasn’t there, that he wouldn’t have to face the job he had been given. 

Then the door opened wide and he was given a view of Petros’s tiny smile, the one he had seen so many times after he offered to deliver letters, one that told him they were relieved to see him. 

“Areti… I’ve been waiting for you,” they said in their familiar deep rumble. “Come in. I’ll see if I can get us a meal to share.”

Their beard had grown in completely in the weeks Areti had been away, a well-trimmed mask of dark hair along their jaw. It made them look older, more handsome, especially when they looked down at him with the usual calculating look in their eyes. They always seemed to be searching for something, or like they could see deep into everyone they talked to. It made a thrill shoot through him, one he’d prefer to ignore.

“You weren’t waiting long, were you?” Areti asked, taking his usual place on the edge of the bed. His sketch of Ambrus stared down at him. In hindsight, he hadn’t done the smile justice, but how could he?

“Only the same length of time I always wait for you,” Petros said with a wave of their hand. The smile hadn’t left, barely visible through their beard, but it made Areti falter nonetheless. “Are you alright, my friend? You’re quite pale. Your journey… Was it safe?”

Areti blinked and shook his head. “My journey was good, considering,” he replied, trying to make his smile reassuring, but most likely failing. “I’m more than alright, just tired. Ambrus is fine too. I believe the war is starting to take its toll on him. He didn’t seem the happiest when I saw him last.”

“I wasn’t asking about Ambrus. I have his letters if I want to know of his well being. I was asking about you, Areti,” they said. They stood before him, a deep frown replacing that wonderful smile he felt so honoured to see. 

His eyebrows furrowed, confusion washing over all other emotions. “I’m… fine, Petros. I’m tired, the journey was long, but I’m not any worse for wear than I usually am,” he explained and inwardly cringed. Petros had given him the perfect opening. All he needed to do was take it. “That being said, there is something I am a little worried about.”

“Oh?” Petros said and moved to sit next to him on the bed. “I will admit, I am not the best with advice or even comfort a lot of the time. Ambrus will attest to that, I’m sure. But, I will try my best to help, whatever it is.”

Areti choked on the laughter that itched at his throat. “Thank you, I appreciate it, but… Ambrus asked me to give you a gift when I last saw him,” he said, swallowing the lump in his throat and staring up at the confused concern Petros gave him. “Not anything tangible, not anything you can hold. Petros… He asked me to give you a kiss.”

The silence in the room was thick and suffocating. For a moment, Areti wished he hadn’t spoken, but Petros deserved to know. What could he possibly say to Ambrus after agreeing to such a thing if he didn’t do as he was asked? He couldn’t look Petros in the eye, even though he could feel their gaze on him. 

“Did… Areti, did you kiss Ambrus?”