Work Text:
“Welcome back, brother.” Is Cormag’s greeting, head turned slightly away to mask the full effect of his locked expression. Even so, Glen can still see the warring relief and grief, and pulls Cormag into a tight hug rather than look at that agony for much longer. Held him, tightly, until Cormag said haltingly, “Glen?”
“It’s nothing,” Glen insisted, hand at the back of Cormag’s head and staring at him. He looked so tired, bone deep and unendingly tired. “I’m proud of you, Cormag.” He did the right thing, leaving Grado’s armies behind. Their country had been in the wrong, but still Glen couldn’t help but look at his brother sometimes and think, traitor .
Still, they’d both lived, and Cormag had killed Valter on the dunes of Jehanna, and the war was over. Glen couldn’t throw the feeling that something too big had changed between them, though. Which was…terrifying. What had he missed, what had Cormag done ? How could they repair the rift between them??
“Glen, are you sure?”
“Oh, yeah. Sorry Cormag, I’m just...tired. Let’s go inside, Mom said she’d have dinner ready by now.” She’d insisted on feeding them both, come home after she’d been told they were both dead, or as good as dead in Cormag’s case. The tears had been uncomfortable for both boys, though their mothers strong hugs had chased away the uneasiness the tears had caused. Their mother.
Who bustled about the kitchen, fussing after the two of them harder than she’d done since before they’d joined the army. “You’re too skinny,” she chided Cormag, face pinched as though she were trying not to cry. “And you, you’re not better.” She said, turning on Glen. “Those folks were kind to save you, and bless them for it, but you look so pale.”
Their mother bit her lip, wrinkled face set in a hard expression, and turned back to her dishes with a fervor that sent soap suds flying.
After the silence stretched too long. Way past comfortable and into tense, their mother never stopping as she scrubbed and scrubbed and pretended her shoulders weren’t shaking with relief, she spoke. “Those doors aren’t hanging right, on the barn.”
“We’ll get it, Ma.” Glen said, gentle and worried and oh, his mother.
“Yeah.” Cormag echoed, a heartbeat too late for it to be natural. Glen caught Cormag’s eyes over the table, and looked away first. There was anger in his brother’s face that was hard to deny, even though he tried to hide it. What he was angry about was unknown, but that twist of his face was easy to read. “We’ll fix it.”
And in the morning, still bleary eyed, the two of them stood awkwardly apart from each other. Very carefully moving around each other. Doing the work, but not working together. Not falling into easy step like they used to. Cormag had been a traitor, had fought against his homeland and that had hardened him, in ways. Glen had been considering it, but had ultimately been betrayed, and it weighed on him.
He’d still been loyal, and Cormag had not been.
Still, the doors swung smoothly by lunch, even though the tension had not eased.
“The fence needs repairing.” Said their mother, skirts tied up so she could sweep and clean the floors.
“Yes, Ma.”
“Yeah.” Glen this time, a heartbeat too slow.
The heat of the day beat at their backs, and the broken fence posts needed to be dug out. The new ones hammered into place, before the holes were refilled with dirt and the crossbeams slotted back into place. And Cormag and Glen worked in silence. Complete, awkward silence.
“Cormag,” Glen began, slowly and only as he wiped sweat from his brow. His heart ached, and it had nothing to do with the uncomfortable stitch in his side of how the sweat dripped into his eyes if he wasn’t careful. “You’re still my brother.” He said helplessly.
“We all thought you were dead.” Cormag answered, after a long moment where the only noise was the shovel sliding into the dirt pile, and the sound of dirt tumbling into the hole. “I thought you were dead.” Valter had been convincing, and he’d taken that at face value until - well. “So I did...what I had to, to do what was right, and what would do right by you.”
And then Cormag lifted his head, and stared right at Glen, and the helpless anger and grief there pierced right through his confusion between My Brother and But A Traitor . “And you judge me for it.” He threw the shovel down, and his voice grew louder. “You think of me as The Traitor now, too, and I did it for you! I did the right thing and you’re angry with me! Well you were dead, Glen, you were dead and the Emperor had sent you with him , and he killed you!”
And Cormag reached forward, and pushed Glen back. Face red, and screwed up, his shoulders up around his ears. “You’re angry at me, and I did the right thing.”
“No, no, I’m not.” Glen protested weakly. “I promise, i’m not.” He was just, confused. And yes, maybe he was a little angry. But if he was, it was only because his own loyalty had wavered, and before he’d fallen one way or the other, Valter had tried to kill him, and the next he knew - the next news he had of the war...Vigarde and Lyon dead, the twisted generals dead also.
Selena gone, Duessel and Cormag both traitors. And him, wounded and alive and so...confused.
Cormag had done the right thing, if not the honorable thing, perhaps. But neither of them were Selena, the very embodiment of loyalty to the crown. “Forgive me, it is just...much has changed while I recovering. Much has changed, and I am angry, and I am confused.”
He shrugged, and held out a hand. “But you are still my brother. You are alive, and well, and I am proud that you did the right thing.” Even if he was bewildered, and angry with the sheer scope of the change.
Cormag took that hand, and Glen grasped the back of Cormag’s neck with the other, and rested his forehead on his brother’s. “And you are my brother,” Cormag replied, soft and exhaling. “And I am glad you are not dead.”
After a moment of closeness, they both straightened, and stepped away. “Ma will want us to do as many as we can before dark.” Glen suggested.
“I suppose we should get to it.” Cormag answered.
The distance between them had not been magically healed, restoring the closeness that had once been, but it was a start.
And at dinner, their mother pursed her lips and kissed their foreheads. “The fence again in the morning, my boys. And then you’ll be wanting to check the roof for leaks.”
“Yes, Ma.” They chorused.