"Do you know, dear Hardin, that there are some things that I've never confessed to anyone?"

His eyes remained closed, despite Sydney's whisper. Relaxing a bit, Sydney lifted his right arm from where it lay at his side, reaching across his body to touch Hardin's arm, which lay protectively across his stomach. Lying on his side, Hardin had the other arm tucked beneath Sydney's lower back, holding him in a loose embrace. Sydney rolled onto his own side to face him without hesitation; if he did not respond to the whispering of his name, Hardin would not respond to movement in his arms.

Gently placing a hand on Hardin's shoulder, Sydney watched his lover for a moment, smiling faintly at the steadiness present even in his long, deep breaths. "...Do you have any idea, I wonder, how much I love you?"

Still no response. "I never have the courage to say it directly," Sydney murmured, "so I imagine you probably do not. But then, you often see deeper into me than I would expect. Perhaps your talent is not confined merely to the physical world... perhaps there are no walls of any sort that can hinder your perception.

"Save for your own, of course," he added as an afterthought. "There is so much you've locked away, I fear you don't know yourself. I can read you even more easily than you can read me - granted, that is my talent, and therefore not such an impressive feat - and so I know how you think of yourself... I know also that there is much more to you than you realize, but you are afraid to acknowledge it, lest you grow prideful.

"Is honesty the same as pride, dear Hardin?" Sydney expected no answer, and got none. "I admit that I am powerful, I am intelligent, and apparently rather charming. No one else denies these things, and so why should I? ...But there are other qualities, not so pleasant, that many people tend to gloss over in the light of my positive traits - particularly the last one. And I cannot say that it isn't as I intend it, for charm can manipulate some as easily as compulsion, particularly when coupled with intelligence.

"Yes, I can be terribly manipulative, and selfish. You would know this better than anyone, wouldn't you? You see all of me... and more than anyone, you know how cruel I can be. For example, these latest indiscretions of mine..."

Sydney sighed softly. "I knew how deeply it would hurt you, and I did it anyhow. You asked of me an explanation, and I gave none. I was not entirely sure myself, to be honest, but I've been considering it, and I believe I've come to learn a few things.

"...I've never spoken of my childhood to you, nor to anyone among the brethren. Most of them are peasants, of course - former bakers, housewives, farmers, even thieves... they might not accept my rebellion against the church and the monarchy so easily if they knew that like you, I was born to a noble house. But unlike you, my family's wealth remained throughout my youth, and I lacked nothing.

"Except peace. My father's wife did not care for me, or my belief in the Kildean pantheon. Or, when I grew older, my preferred consorts," he murmured with a wry smile. "But that is beside the point - since I was very young, I was pampered, and yet always I felt that there was something missing. An emptiness that was filled in by neither my faith nor my family's wealth... Many times, I sought to take my own life, but our Lady would come to me... she would comfort me, and remind me that I had a purpose yet to fulfill. She was my solace... but she would always leave, and the emptiness would return in her absence.

"I sought to sate it in any way that I could, through ordinary means. Possessions, compulsive reading and study, extravagant pleasures, and... simpler pleasures of the purely physical sort. When I finally learned what I was to do for the gods, and I left my childhood home far behind, I gave up all the privileges I'd once had - even the name of my family. But despite my faith and my purpose, the emptiness remained. And now there was nothing left to distract myself from that emptiness, which grew ever deeper as the Dark grew in me.

"Nothing, that is, except for the aforementioned 'simpler pleasures'. These were easy enough to obtain, as I began to win souls to my cause; those who would listen to the gospel I spread are usually the discouraged, the disillusioned, and they so often offered all they had - including their bodies - for me to use as I see fit, for I gave them the hope that they'd long been without.

"I was nearly lost in it when we met," Sydney whispered softly, self-consciously. He knew, naturally, that Hardin would not condemn him for it, but these were things he'd never spoken aloud before. "I sought to escape that emptiness by taking whomever I chose - and never did they resist. I could take a different lover every night, each different from the last, with something new to offer; for they adored me, they nearly worshipped me... And as I could take as many as I wanted, I perhaps began to believe myself to be a divine being, as they did.

"But no matter how much pleasure and how much praise, the emptiness was not filled." Sydney paused, thinking back on that time. "It was not that I enjoyed it so much, but only that it was an escape. But even as such, it was too simple... there was no challenge, and therefore no fulfillment."

Sydney paused again, lifting Hardin's hand to his lips with gentle caution, careful not to disturb him as he laid a soft kiss upon Hardin's fingers. "And that was when we found you."

Chuckling a little, Sydney replaced Hardin's hand where it had been, resting lightly upon his waist. "If I wanted challenge, John, you provided me with more than I'd bargained for. I knew from the moment I first saw you that you must remain with us, that you were somehow important to our destiny. But you were not like any of my brethren - you were much like myself. Born of noble blood, strong-willed and stubborn, and though completely devoted to your freedom, bound by honor and kindness to do whatever would best serve others. And you didn't want to believe in the gods or their authority; to you, I was nothing more than another man.

"This fascinated me. No one had treated me as an equal for my entire life - I was either a rebellious little boy who needed discipline, or a master to be obeyed without question. But no, I was just another man to you - one who was quite capable of overstepping his bounds. It made it all the more fulfilling when finally, after so long, you came to me willingly - not out of fear or worship, but out of simple admiration.

"That is what I was missing all along," Sydney whispered, trailing his fingers across Hardin's shoulder. "Someone I did not have to play the master for, who would obey me regardless out of respect. But I fear I had already grown too accustomed to the lifestyle I had lived for so long, being free to do whatever I wished, without a care for the thoughts or feelings of others... I thought I wanted that freedom back, and so I lay with her, simply because she was willing, and I found her attractive.

"But with that act, two things happened. First, I found that the freedom I'd once had was meaningless. Second... I found my self-control faltering. Having spent so long doing whatever I wished, it was a natural thing that I should slip back into that pattern of bedding whoever caught my eye.

"But it is still meaningless," Sydney whispered, a faint smile crossing his face as he carefully caressed Hardin's cheek with bladed fingers. "By the gods, how I wish I still had fingers of flesh, so I could touch you as you deserve to be touched - warmly, softly - just as you touch me. In our touches there is meaning; when you are with me, I feel complete. ...You saved me, John. Without you, I'd have been lost in debauchery, in arrogance."

His hand drifted down to Hardin's chest, and Sydney sighed quietly. "There are so many reasons I am afraid to tell you just how much you mean to me. But you know, don't you? For you can see me, even when I am silent.

"The priests of Iocus have their confessionals, their little rooms which the devout enter and speak of all their secrets, all their shames... while we of the ancient faith do not do such. But sometimes we do need to confess, do we not? And there is no specific place set aside for all of us, so we must find our own...

"The bed we share is my confessional," Sydney whispered, his eyes sincere as they looked upon Hardin's face. "All my darkness is revealed here, though seldom in words. And due to this little conversation, dear Hardin," Sydney added with a slight smirk, "also the light I keep hidden within, though I dare not show you when your eyes are open. You will say nothing of this when you rise in the morning, but perhaps some of that light which needed to escape me has penetrated your eyelids."

Having said what he'd been holding back for so long, Sydney lay back upon the pillow, closing his eyes. "Sleep soundly, John," he murmured quietly. "And perhaps I also shall, for once."

Perhaps ten breaths' time passed before he felt Hardin stir at his side. "Sydney," he said hesitantly, "Forgive me, but I... I was curious to hear what you would say... I was not asleep."

Sydney's dark eyes opened just a crack to meet Hardin's, and he smiled. "I know."