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STOLEN BY THE PAST Chapter Four: Exiting the tavern, Had'Rian curled his arm around Behan's waist. Behan turned to look back over his shoulder, making sure they had not been followed. Although the last two years of town life had shielded him from the true harshness of prejudice the fear of attack could never be completely absolved. Fehn had been a heavily immortal-populated town, therefore racial divides had been stronger but less in numbers. The village of Elissarro was far different. But tonight the village square was deserted and so Behan let himself relax, allowing his eyes to roam, taking in the sights of his new home. It was not really a village at all, he decided, just a square with one tavern, a church and a collection of small houses. Layana's cottage was on the outskirts of the village, up the back roads that not many people travelled. Elissarro was tiny. He stroked his fingers up under Had'Rian's coat, toying with the waistband of his trousers. Had'Rian turned to look at him, smiling broadly. "I think the spirits you drank have affected you, Behan," he teased. "But I did not drink any spirits," Behan whispered back. They kissed once but remembered not to linger too long. They knew that they had to respect the wishes of this largely mortal village. They had not ever flaunted their relationship in Fehn but they had been free to be close. But not here in Elissarro - the tavern had even been segregated! But they would adjust. For Had'Rian Behan would do anything. Because he loved him. From the very first moment he had laid eyes on him Behan had been smitten. He would do whatever needed to make Had'Rian happy. Even living in a tiny village like Elissarro. It wouldn't take much adjustment, he reasoned. He had lived his whole life in one quite similar.
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He, Abhner, Had'Rian, Tajar and Silas had all lived in a village called E'Thelwin. It had been far prettier than Elissarro but the people had been much the same - afraid of change, scared of the immortals. Their homes had been segregated then instead of the taverns. Being of mixed-blood, Behan and Abhner had been put into a cottage right on the border of the mortal and immortal divide. Before Layana had entered their lives, Behan had been sure he'd live and die in E'Thelwin. Now that village was no more. Lucretious had sent his Elders to destroy it. Only Behan and his four friends had survived the scouring. Loosening his grip on Had'Rian's waist, Behan's thoughts returned to his brother. Abhner had always hated the immortal race. It had taken Behan's friends to show him that they could be trusted. But at the end Abhner had known the real truth about Behan and he had shunned him, and his immortal friends. Behan shrugged away the inner hatred such memories always caused him. His brother's bigotry was not a concern of his. He loved Had'Rian and Had'Rian loved him in return. When love was consenting how could it ever be wrong? Had Abhner died hating Behan, though? He did not know. They had not spoken during the weeks that had led up to his death, but Abhner had not been there to speak with. It had made the burden of guilt a far heavier blanket to carry these past two years. But that load was lessening now. He could not say why or how but the guilt of Abhner's death was releasing its killer grip at last. He supposed in time all things passed on. As if sensing his mood, the way he always could, Had'Rian squeezed an arm around his middle. Calling Behan back from his memories, he said, "Life will get better now," he said. Behan forced a smile. "I hope so," he said. "It will."
This time when Behan smiled it was real. "If you promise then I will believe you."
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