6: The Lovers
Tethered - a journey into an alternative reality where nothing is quite as it seems. Where the line between fiction and fact are difficult to differentiate. And destiny becomes a game.
⚠️ Each instalment will be slightly different; however, reader discretion is advised as this is written for an adult audience.
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‘You see,’ he proclaimed, taking a large step back into the lab; the static-hum of the portal’s mesh merely breaking then reforming as he crossed the threshold. ‘It doesn’t work.’
I swallowed, my head falling forward. A single tear began to snake down my cheek. It felt hot, bitter. The liquid scratched deeply through my skin. He was wrong. I know he was wrong.
The portal worked.
Podzemnyy Mir was real.
💠
Something was wrong. Very wrong. Kaspar’s head tilted as he studied Ecila. He tried to determine what it was that had changed. Over the last few weeks the atmosphere had been combative, certainly, and the way they spoke to each other had felt argumentative at best.
There was a strain, an invisible rip which only widened.
He did not like it; he wanted this project to be successful, he wanted to be part of a cohesive relationship which would deliver results the scientific community would be envious of. It was in his interest to believe her, but Ecila was… struggling.
Her ideas, they remained brilliant.
Her passion for their work shone.
But, her attitude was fracturing.
Her body bore the affects of self-inflicted pressure. Ecila’s eyes were shadowed in bruised-indigo. Her skin faded and pale, even beyond her usual wintery transparency. And though she had damp hair when he arrived in the lab that morning, it now looked tousled and slightly dirty, and the blue ribbon was frayed at the ends.
Had she really been gone?
Barely noticeable, he shook his head.
Impossible.
‘Ila,’ he said, his tone shifting to something more gentle, ‘how about we get dinner tonight?’
Slow, she sniffed and wiped her fingers over her face; surreptitiously brushing away the salted river from her cheeks. ‘Dinner?’
‘I know, I know.’ He sighed. ‘I know I’ve promised before and then I forget or—’
‘Something more important comes up,’ she whispered.
His shoulders rounded. Was she pushing so hard for this project because she was lonely? Was this his fault? ‘I’m sorry, Ila. This time, I swear, we’ll go somewhere - your choice.’
How cheerfully he seems to grin, welcoming little broken me in1, she thought. Ecila met his gaze, seeing the weight in it, the serious intention to deliver on his offer. An offer she doubted would be met. ‘My choice?’
He nodded.
‘And we’ll actually get dinner?’ Her eyes refused to let him duck from the inquisitive lock.
‘Yes,’ he exclaimed, exasperated. ‘Look, if you don’t want to, that’s fine, I’m just trying to do something nice.’
‘Something nice?’ She leapt from the chair. ‘And what, what do I then owe you for your… generosity?’
‘Ecila, it’s not—’
‘No, please tell me,’ she said, her voice undercut with polite venom as she stooped to collect her backpack. ‘What do you expect from me Kaspar?’
‘It’s only because you’re working so hard—’
‘Someone fucking has to!’ She took a step forward. ‘You’re clearly not bothered about this at all. All you do is undermine me, belittle me, try to prove I’m wrong all the fucking time. It’s exhausting.’
His mouth opened, then shut, several times as Kaspar tried to work out how to respond. Everything which glittered in his mind felt entirely likely to pour further fuel onto her weary rage. Logically, he recognised this as her fatigue talking, but emotionally he felt wounded. Defensive and hurt. ‘I’m trying to do something nice,’ Kaspar hissed.
‘You’ve said.’ Another step.
‘Ecila, please,’ he soothed, ‘let me take you to dinner. You need the rest from all this—’
‘All what? All the work I’m doing?’ She took another step, the pack shuffled onto her shoulder. ‘I have to! I have to work this hard, because I… because it seems you don’t care about it at all.’
‘I do, Ila.’ His brow creased, the notch between his brows deep. ‘I do care about this, and you, which is why—’
‘Oh, fuck you.’ She stepped forward again, crossing the portal’s barrier to obtain some evidence without looking back.
💠
I expected to arrive in the same field, or the infinite library I’d come from earlier. Yet, my surroundings were entirely different. I gripped the strap of my backpack more tightly, my eyes adjusting to the dim light.
The corridor was heavily lined in rich wallpaper, the texture more like fabric under the pads of my curious fingers. A decadent Prussian blue backdrop, with paler powder blue and periwinkle flamingos in various poses amongst a soaring floral forest.
My fingers traced the scene, eyes trailing the images as I continued walking; unsure of where I was headed, but trusting the direction. Each wooden piece of the beautifully crafted parquet floor slotted precisely, making my boots sound more like velvet.
There was silence.
Only the soft regular thud of the clockwork. The pace slowing to sing in time with my heart. Skipping when the twisting path revealed a door. It was slightly ajar, the same low gleam spilling into the corridor.
Hesitating, I curled my fingers around the handle. Taking a breath to calm the beat of my pulse, the cadence of the melody which thrummed below my feet. I blinked; moisture in my eyes stubbornly clinging to the sclera, despite how I exhaled. Despite how I attempted to rid the lingering sense of irritability and fury.
Of how Kaspar always ridiculed me.
‘Fuck him,’ I muttered, pushing forward.
I entered then froze, my lips parting and eyes widening.
Before me, two men immediately fell to their knees; leather softening the contact they made with the floor. In unison, their muscular arms crossed their naked, sculpted chests; hand on hearts. Their heads bowing, the matching tattoos on their flesh glowing.
‘We are here to serve,’ they announced.
I swallowed. ‘What?’
My eyes cleared, drying as my throat heated, as the regular strike of clockwork splintered. An instant transformation, fuelled by the realisation I stood with men at my feet in a bedroom. A massive, decadent, bedroom dominated by an oversized bed and swathes of purple velvet. The walls covered in opulent fabric, the metal frame of the bed draped in thick layers, and the other furniture evocative of luxury.
It was soft, seductive, and smelled of pomegranate.
Of course it smells of pomegranate, I thought.
‘We are here to do whatever you wish,’ one of the men explained; his hazel eyes meeting mine as he raised his head.
My gaze shifted from one to the other; they were identical. At least in how they were built. Same musculature, same stance. Yet, the one who had spoken was dark-blond, the other had black hair. The luminous tattoos which spread over their visible skin ended at their necks, the same silvery shade which glimmered against one man’s onyx flesh, the other’s gypsum. Even their leather trousers were tied with neatly proportioned laces which mirrored the other.
I tore my eyes from their tightly revealing clothing.
The rhythmic thud changed again, the tick discordant and struggling to locate the past calm.
‘I’m Beau, and this is Drury.’
My eyes fell to the man who’d provided their names; his umber eyes reflecting my image and the soft candlelight on sconces either side of the now closed door. I watched, teeth chewing on my lower lip, as they gracefully stood. As they rested their foreheads together briefly.
Shared a gentle kiss.
As Drury strode away, to a cabinet on the other side of the bed, their glowing markings faded. Dulling until their skin became clear.
The notch between my brows deepened. My own introduction forgotten as confusion grew through my thoughts. Was it a trick of the light? Some kind of reflective, reactive substance? A photoluminescence absorbing light before reemitting it in longer wavelengths…
‘If it was, then the glow would remain after we parted,’ Beau said, his voice devoid of any judgement.
‘Any phosphorescent material which absorbs radiation keeps it and emits it for far longer than the time it’s exposed,’ Drury added, both hands clutching a tray.
‘Yes, but fluorescent materials can stop emitting within nanoseconds…’ My argument halted, voice drifting as I watched their matching tattoos reappear and grow stronger the closer they became. ‘Who are you… what are you?’
The men smiled; identical, sweet, smiles.
Drury continued to a low table and floor cushions, his bare feet silent as he elegantly settled and began distributing the tea service. Though I’d not heard, nor seen, any kind of boiling water, steam coiled up from the gilded teapot. Ruby liquid poured from the long spout, filling three small handleless cups.
Pomegranate, again.
‘Come,’ Beau said.
I sensed his hand hovering above my lower back, the pressure of the absent touch spreading heat under my skin. The lack of connection somehow more immodest than if he’d laid his palm against my flesh and steered me where they wanted me. I couldn’t breathe.
Drury and Beau exchanged smirks.
I’d escaped one infuriating man to be met with two more.
Yet, I dropped my backpack, and then lowered to one of the luscious cushions; the velvet incredibly soft and filling perfectly comfortable as I sank opposite them.
‘We do not wish to fight you.’ Drury’s eyes turned to Beau, entwining his hand in his as they sat side by side. Their kiss languid before they each faced me.
‘Why would I want to fight you?’
Silence, again.
The slide of their gazes to each other.
Their unified swallows travelled their throats.
‘You said you’re here to serve me,’ I stated, ‘so, why would you want to fight me?’
‘We don’t want to fight you,’ Beau explained, ‘but you… you seem to want to fight us.’
My frown reappeared, furrows carving into my brow. I exhaled heavily, grabbing the delicate cup and bringing the aromatic tea to my lips. The tart warmth wrapped my tongue.
‘There are far better ways to dispel the frustrations you’re feeling.’
I almost spat out my tea.
‘You’re angry,’ Drury continued, ‘and believe Kaspar’s being cruel—’
‘Which he is,’ Beau interjected.
‘—by how he fails to truly support you, and how he lets you down so often.’ He paused, releasing Beau’s hand and running his fingers up the man’s arm. ‘Kaspar doesn’t deserve you.’
‘He doesn’t have me,’ I hissed. Fuck these men.
‘But he did, once.’
‘That’s. None. Of. Your. Fucking. Business.’ My jaw almost snapped from the tension radiating through my teeth. One drunken night did not make a relationship, nor did it prevent our working relationship. The fact these two men felt it was appropriate to even mention it only made the ire roiling in my blood grow more furious. These two men don’t know me, they don’t know me.
‘But we do,’ Beau soothed. ‘We do know you.’
My lips parted, about to argue.
Drury reached across the dark wood to claim my wrist.
The touch sent a surge of static through my entire body; it collided with my anger, creating a conflict of emotion and memory to flood my mind. Every synapse and cell luminous.
‘And because we know you, we wish to love you the right way.’
‘We’ve only just met,’ I muttered.
Again, they smirked; their pronounced meeting of eyes suggesting I was very wrong in my statement. But I knew without a doubt I’d remember meeting these men.
Being in this room.
‘I’m not going to bed with you.’ My chin rose higher, eyes narrowing.
‘And we’re not asking you to.’ Beau took a sip of tea.
‘I’m not having sex with you,’ I said, ensuring their interpretation of my statement was clear. They’d already twisted one of my comments, I didn’t need this one misconstrued either.
‘Not now, no,’ Drury said. He lowered his cup.
‘Not ever.’
I got the sense I was wrong about that, too. They kept their eyes locked on me, an intensity in their blown pupils which kept me staring; it was suffocating. Beyond the strata of fabric the ticking beat was barely recognisable as a pattern.
My breath was erratic.
This is fucking ridiculous. I never let anyone affect me like this. Not since… My head shook, the loosened tie in my hair slipping further and strands of blonde falling free.
Beau leaned forward, tucking the tendrils behind my ear. ‘Before you relocate the toys we enjoy—’
‘What?’
‘—you need to remember to love yourself.’
‘Which means making choices which align to who you are.’ Drury added fresh tea to my cup, his movement fluid. He looked to Beau. ‘Then hopefully she’ll find those toys and return them.’
‘What the fuck are you—’
‘It’s okay,’ Beau soothed.
‘No, it’s not okay.’ I tried to stand only to fail; dizziness and heat spun through my head, my limbs, and my vision choked in darkness. The strange caw of a crow and crack of wings ricocheted then died.
💠
Opening my eyes cautiously, I was greeted with a draped canopy of silk, embroidered with the sun and moon. A celestial dance which moved and restitched in a circular dance; unravelling to reform in a steady rhythm. The bed below me was so unbelievably soft I almost drifted back into whatever void’d embraced me.
Almost.
The presence of warmth on either side of me had me glancing down and sitting up in quick succession. A fresh spin gripping my head which nearly collapsed me back to the pile of pillows.
‘You’re awake.’
There was a hint of relief, and compassion, in Beau’s voice. It bothered me that I recognised it was him; I shouldn’t know.
‘You know how you know.’
The stroke of Drury’s fingers over my blanket-covered thigh brought my eyes to the movement. At least they were both lying above the covers, propped on their sides and staring adoringly at me. However, due to their weight, I was trapped. Even shuffling back toward the frame only permitted a lean against the pillows. But such an action did allow me to do a quick inventory; I was dressed entirely as I’d been.
‘We’d never take advantage!’ Beau sat up, one hand reaching for me, the other for Drury. Their fingers lacing together. Drury echoed the same words, the same act.
The presence of their palms on my neck somehow familiar.
And their words somehow true.
‘We’ll do anything you ask,’ Drury said, ‘and we’ll be here whenever you’re ready to return. But, please, don’t hurry that process.’
‘You must look after yourself first,’ Beau added, ‘that’s what’s important.’ He paused, glancing to Drury. ‘Your first love must always be with yourself.’
‘Which means being kind to yourself, and giving yourself permission to rest, and seek help—‘
My bemused laughter broke Drury’s voice. ‘Then you clearly don’t know me at all.’
‘Oh, we do.’ Beau chuckled.
‘Which is why we’re reminding you to treat yourself with love.’
‘Easily said when you’ve got someone who gives a fuck….’
Drury’s thumb stroked along my jaw as Beau’s hand curled around my thigh. The same pulse of static from before stole through my entire body, stealing my thoughts.
‘But, until you truly learn that there’s someone you need to meet.’
Their soft kisses on my temples made my eyes close and a sigh to shudder from my throat. A peace settle over my limbs. Their gentle touch easing me further down the bed, so I could return my head to the pillow. I tried to fight the slumber, the weariness calling me to rest; but I failed.
I failed.
While you read, should you wish to immerse yourself further into the dark vibe of the story, have a listen to the playlist. It may also give you a glimpse of what’s to come in future chapters - especially if you know the Major Arcana and what they represent. I’m also happy to share which resources I’ve read should you wish to learn more about parallel world theory, quantum mechanics, and wormholes.
This story is crafted by Ariadne Pautina, entirely human-driven, © 2026
Thank you for reading; I appreciate your time and your support. If you feel called to leave an offering, it would be welcome. But your company on this journey is gratefully received regardless 🖤
An adaptation of How cheerfully he seems to grin, How neatly spreads his claws, And welcomes little fishes in With gently smiling jaws! from How Doth the Little Crocodile, which appears in chapter 2 of Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland, by Lewis Carroll - itself an adaptation of Against Idleness and Mischief by Isaac Watts.