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Chapter Text

Soft hands ghost across his face. Freddie feels only the tips, hardened by hours of mindless strumming. He tilts into the pressure. His mind reminds him of warm summer nights. Thick curls blotting out the moon. 

“Is he waking up?” 

He doesn’t want to. For the moment all he wants is to feel those fingertips skip across his face in a nameless quest. The fight against awareness is not one he can win, there is something deep and primal urging him towards wakefulness. A crooked smile and gentle hazel eyes start slipping through his grasp. Freddie can’t lose this. It’s the first time he has dreamed about him in near a year without seeing a spray of blood or terror in the word “run!” 

The stone wall hasn’t changed since the last time he saw it. His body aches with deep bruises not yet on the surface. Someone is behind him.

“Are you awake?” 

He stills, bites back the sob that raises in his throat. How dare his exhausted mind taunt him? 

“That’s good, it means your head is not as badly hurt as I feared.” 

Freddie rises as he turns, slowly as though in a trance. He meets hazel eyes. They aren’t warm with recognition but the eyes dance over his face. Wild curls have been cut, but even now start to show their rebellious nature. He remembers so many mornings and nights trying to get them into some semblance of order. His skin is paler, leaving blemishes to look darker. This is no kind stranger in a dungeon. 

He launches himself forward, wrapping around the thin frame (thinner now) and pressing as many kisses as he can to the spaces of skin he can reach without detangling himself too much. Freddie gives in after the fourth insistent push. 

“Brian,” it leaves his lips like a prayer. 

Brian tilts his head. Eyes roaming over Freddie. He skims his own gaze over the rest of his body. Brian is wearing clothes meant for royal servants, thin but beautifully made. Worse yet, the twin bracelets that press tightly on his wrists, the wood etched with blue magic. Why he hadn’t escaped at the first opportunity and instead earned status as a servant, Freddie can’t figure out the plan. 

Freddie has so many questions. He starts mapping their escape out of here. Their plan had always been to head north. They can catch up with John and Roger within a score of days. Hit the border only a month after that. Sing their songs in a tiny cottage by a lake for the rest of their days. 

“Who are you?” 

He barely connects the voice to the words. Brian is staring at him, and the vacant hazel remains. Freddie runs his eyes over Brian’s face (to see if this is an act or not. Maybe its because he had been thought dead for a year). There’s no trace of a lie. 

His voice wavers, “Brian you know me.” 

“I do not.” 

Freddie feels something deep in his soul break. 

Brian picks up the bucket and rag, spares Freddie one last polite look, and steps out of the cell. The door doesn’t latch properly at first. Freddie perks up but then Brian slams it shut and vanishes down the hallway. His lungs burn with the want to cry, but he doesn’t understand. He is too confused to cry. 

Freddie leans back on his heels, letting his hands trail limply at their side. It feels like his head is underneath a waterfall. 

(He remembers Rog jumping down from a ledge and soaking John who is sitting on the bank with his feet dangling in. Brian pops up next to Roger and they share a messy wet kiss. Freddie sketches on the shore. The only way to keep memories true.) 

They had been five years younger and far too careless. 

He sits like that long enough for their single meal of the day to be slide under the bottom slot of the door. Freddie looks up, but this servant is one he has never seen before. Nervous brown eyes don’t meet his. He wonders what the boy has been told his crime is. 

The food feels worse on his tongue than the night he was brought in. Bread crumbles to dust and he can’t fathom what is in the paste in the bowl. He drinks the water greedily but feels thick and gritty. Well-water that hasn’t properly been strained. 

Noises from his fellow prisoners pick up after dinner because there will be no guard or servant for a few hours. Freddie scratches his nails on the stone floor. The sting eventually cuts through the rush, but it’s barely holding it back. 

“You know him? Brian?” 

Freddie looks up. The speaker is the man in the cell across from him. Balding from the front, but he looks younger than even Roger. His sunken cheeks speak for how long he has been in that cell. It’s the first time he has been spoken to since arriving. 

They’ve all seen the brand on his arm (red and hot, it’s starting to grow down his entire arm). They don’t want to risk their own sentences for communicating with him. 

“Yes,” Freddie replies. 

Does he know Brian? The question nearly makes him laugh bitterly. At one point they were all one singular entity, Celara’s bond or near enough to it. There wasn’t a thing he didn’t know about Brian or Roger or John. Does he know Brian?  

He doesn’t know anymore. 

Maybe his grief has found the nearest thing to Brian and changed it so that the descriptions match. If that were the case then why would this man across from him know that Brian is Brian? Unless the servant has never said his name. 

Freddie knows this is Brian though because he sees the familiar blend of blemishes in the shape of constellations. If he had dared to lift up the flowy linen sleeve, Freddie knows he would see the brand on Brian’s too. Is that the fate of all who have committed the same crime? 

“Which one are you then?” 

Freddie stares. 
“Which one of the three are you? Roger, John, or Freddie?” 

“You know us?” 

“Yes. Brian would tell me about you three every night. Said he wanted to keep the memories as clear as he could.” 

Freddie swallows, “what happened?” 

“They did that to him. I can’t explain why they didn’t kill him. Humiliation maybe? Because he wouldn’t break,” the laugh is sharp and watery, “he said he wouldn’t break because he had to get back to you three.” 

There’s a burn in the back of his eyes. Picturing Brian’s stubborn strength. Curled up on the floor, holding back tears and not sharing because he doesn’t want to burden anyone. The image has stuck with him because he remembers that only three days after that, Brian came to them with branches of cypress and woven sashes of silk. 

They had accepted without hesitation, and then John told them about the lake in his home country where they could build a home, and no one would find them. Brian had been draped in each of their own cypress branches and silks the next day. Eyes crinkled and smile wide. 

Freddie used to say he would give anything to see that again. 

“I guess he never thought that you’d come to get him,” the man finishes. 

“We’d never give up on him.” 

Once, he thought that Roger had. He placed memories of Brian in a tiny box he kept with him. Locked away. Freddie had fought and fought him on that and Roger had only spat back harsh truths (he’s gone, Fred). What he hadn’t understood is that Roger fully admitted Brian was gone, but not forgotten. Not until he saw Roger sitting on his bedroll thumbing that same woven silk. Shortly after that Roger wrapped it around his arm. 

“I wish he knew that.” 

Freddie shifts from his heels to his bum, pinpricks of pain run up and down his legs making his limbs feel heavy. He stretches them out, relieved he was spared being chained to the wall. 

“He did,” Freddie says, “maybe not consciously. But he did.” 

“He doesn’t now.” 

Freddie recoils with the words. The Brian he had seen today has never felt their gentle caresses or heard their whispered songs. 

“What happened?” 
It’s morbid curiosity that urges him to ask. Freddie can connect the dots, but it’s nothing compared to what he is sure this man has witnessed. 

“Magic,” the man breathes, “they turned him into that with magic. It shouldn’t have taken as long as it did. Most other prisoners with that fate it takes maybe one or two times. His took near a month of daily visits.” 

Freddie wonders if the guards felt that same sparking in Brian’s veins that they all did. Tightly restrained because there wasn’t a point to use it. Not even when he had an arrow lodged in his shoulder sapping his strength with a caustic mix of poison and loss of blood. He wonders if that’s what kept him going for a month more than it should have. 

“The guards blamed the magician of course, but it’s because he knew how to hold on. Gods, how he held on.” 

“Please stop,” Freddie blocks the image out, “what’s your name?” 

“Most people just call me Crystal now.” 

“What was it before?” 

“Doesn’t matter, your friend gave me the name. Mostly because he said Freddie would hate such a dull name.” 

Freddie laughs and barely holds back the tears by doubling over and pressing his forearms to his stomach. 

“You never said which one you are.” 

“I’m Freddie.” 

Crystal doesn’t say anything after that. Freddie tries to swallow down the gummy feeling on his tongue from the food. His back is pressed against the cool stone. There’s nothing to do. Outside its only midday, he’s certain. In this place, it feels like night because there are no windows. For the first time in a year, he finds himself missing the night sky instead of hating it for reminding him of what he lost. 

That night he dreams of golden grass dancing against his bare calves as he spins John around in a series of elaborate and out of time dance moves. Roger smacks against his latest approximation of a drum while Brian strums his guitar. Their voices meld together in a song that Celara would claim as her favorite. They’re all young and unafraid of being labeled what they were, of what the crown would do to them if they were found. 

Freddie wakes up to Brian’s fingertips on his face. He smiles, still feeling the warmth of the sun on his skin. Then the cold stone seeps into his body. Brian’s eyes shine with polite concern but still no recognition. His stomach twists painfully. Upon seeing him awake Brian steps back, clearly having learned from yesterday. 

This isn’t his Brian. His Brian never once shied away from affection. 

“You’re awake.” 

“You woke me up.” 

Brian shrugs and again steps out of the cell. The door latches easily this time. He has forgotten his bucket, Freddie watches him leave and then notes with some satisfaction that the water is clear and smooth. Freddie drinks it eagerly as hope swirls in his chest. Brian wouldn’t do that for –  

“You aren’t special. He does that for everyone,” an unfamiliar voice calls. 

“Shut it, Spike. We all need hope in this place.” 

Freddie wipes his hand on his pant leg. It’s his fault because Brian always had the urge to help people. Small actions that would help with the heavier burdens of life. 

“Don’t worry too much about it, Freddie,” Crystal says to him. 

“He doesn’t want me to think I can get Brian back.” 

Crystal’s silence is telling. 

“I’ve been here for two years,” Spike says, “and I’ve never once seen anyone go through that and then come back to themselves.” 

Freddie thinks about Brian sitting in this cell his optimism being sapped away by cynic neighbors and the inability to see the stars. 

The days pass together in the same way. Brian wakes him up by touching his face gently. Somedays he is left the bucket and somedays Brian has a bruise blooming on his face. His hands grow shakier the longer he is here. The longer he is here, the less he recognizes Brian as Brian and more as one of the other servants.  

Crystal will occasionally tell stories of when Brian was a prisoner. How he would teach them all about the stories they’ve all been taught were traitor’s songs. There are eight other prisoners here. Six of which ignore him. 

He looks at Brian one day and notes that his hair is just now tickling his jaw. It had been clipped above his ears when Freddie was brought here. Crystal doesn’t tell him how long between his arrival and Brian’s Incident. Freddie doesn’t know what to call it because he has no idea what this is. 

One day he’s managed to coax Brian to stay longer. This Brian doesn’t talk much, less prone to running his mouth in explanations. Freddie talks enough for the both of him, speaking about a made-up world, in case a guard is near and decides that his punishment needs to be moved up. 

Freddie doesn’t like thinking about the noose that is being carefully woven for him, out of heavy twine and sealed with beeswax. 

The door bursts open and Freddie reaches for Brian’s wrist automatically pulling him to the back of the cell. Smoke fills the hallway, and the din of fighting can be heard in the distance. 

“Rebels in the castle!” 

“Hells yeah!” Spike yells. 

Freddie grips tighter on Brian’s wrist when he tries to step forward. The yell is cut off by a solid twang of a bow. A man walks down the hallway to where the guard has stumbled face-first onto the ground. He holds his breath when the rebel turns towards him. 

“Pick your fate,” he says before vanishing further down. 

“Ah, the main prisoner,” Brian mumbles and again tries to move away. 

“Brian, no!” 

Brian looks at him, confused, “my job is to keep the prisoners alive and here.” 

“And then they’ll kill you.” 

Freddie grabs both arms and turns Brian towards him so their eyes meet. Brian’s eyes are wide and darting around before they eventually settle on his face. 

“They will. And even though you can’t… we’re leaving, that’s all we can do. I need to get back to them.” 

Brian hesitates and then nods. Freddie lets out a breath of relief, “do you know how to get out of here, to the outside?” 

“Yes. I can get us to the gardens.” 

“Great,” Freddie breathes. 

He drags Brian out with him. Freddie bends down and picks up the key ring. Brian twists away but ends up lacing their hands together. The bracelet must have been digging into Brian’s arm. 

“Crystal!” 

“Here!” 

Freddie stumbles through the smoke and finds the cell. He shoves the key into the lock and twists. Crystal is pushing the gate open before Freddie has a chance to fully step back. 

“Brian can get us to the garden.” 

“I can get us out then,” Crystal nods. 

Freddie unlocks Spike’s door. 

“This is your damn cause,” Crystal yells, “how many are going to die today because of this rebellion?” 

Spike steals the keys and gives Crystal a long look, “not you three if you hurry.” 

That’s all the urging Freddie needs, rushing to where he is sure the exit is. Crystal only a step behind him and Brian pressed tightly to his arm. 

“No, left.” 

Freddie turns seconds before he would have run into a wall. He sends Brian a smile, but through the smoke and lack of light he can’t make out the expression on Brian’s face. 

“Straight fifteen steps, then right.” 

The directions get him to the door. Beyond the hallway is filling with smoke, but this is thinner than what was in the cells. Crystal bends to pick up a sword from a fallen…someone. Freddie gags.

“Do you know how to use that?” Freddie frowns. 

“No, but people are less likely to get near someone with a sword.” 

Freddie isn’t sure that rule applies in the middle of a battlefield, but it’s better than being weaponless. 

“Now where?” 

“Right,” Brian says after a second. 

Crystal leads the way. The fighting sounds further away. Likely in the main castle complex now. 

“Left!” 

The hallway they turn down is clear from the smoke. An endless repetition of stone lays before him. Freddie vaguely remembers being hauled down this way when he was delirious from the pain of the branding. Crystal starts running, Freddie following. The captivity has whittled down his strength. Running used to be easy for him, but now each step goes straight to his knees and hips. He is gasping with each breath. 

Brian is fairing only marginally better. 

“Right, there will be a door to your right!” 

True enough a heavy wooden door is there. Crystal lifts the reinforcing bar. Where had the rebels come in, if this is the only way out of the dungeons? Freddie turns to ask Brian when he is blinded by sunlight. He gasps and blinks away the tears. He pushes Crystal forward. The warmth seeps into his aching skin, soothing the bruises.  

“Now where?” 

“We’ve got to go around the tower.” 

Freddie looks to the left. The tower curves and he can see where scaling ladders have been tossed over the walls across the courtyard. Guards hang off the wall and lay scattered around the grounds. A few unlucky rebellions join their opponents final resting place. 

“The fighting is coming from there,” Crystal nods towards the central building. 

It’s in the opposite direction of where they need to go. 

“Let’s move.” 

Crystal leans against the wall, craning his neck around the curve before darting away. Freddie squeezes Brian’s hand before following him. The gardens have caught fire. Screams can be heard. There is a moment of guilt, it crushes his heart because he wants to help. Soothe the victims of this pointless and bloody war. 

He looks back to Brian, who is staring longingly at the main building. Freddie tugs him. Before they had retired from the rebels, Roger had kept repeating that they can’t save everyone from this nightmare. They left because this fight was never John’s, brought to this country at sixteen he didn’t understand how deep the rifts ran. Brian had been far too delicate for the violence, choosing instead to be a healer that got sick at the sight of blood. 

Freddie had stayed silent watching them both slowly get stripped away by the war. Roger was becoming an angry shadow of himself. Their fight had stopped the second they all found each other. Freddie, familiar with the violence surrounding the capital, had simply been tired. 

This Brian wants to help. The sound of swords and battle don’t send him curling up into himself. Freddie doesn’t know what side he would choose to fight for. 

Crystal leads them through the gardens. Dodging the few skirmishes and talking down one scout from sounding the alarm on them. They reach the edge of the garden, and beyond is the forest. A forest Freddie knows well. 

They plunge into it. The goal now is distance. If the Royal Army wins then there’s sure to be a train of executions, anyone not in the royal colors will be marched to the gallows. The Rebel Army, if victorious, Freddie knows will march anyone wearing the royal colors to the gallows in a train of executions. 

He glances back at Brian who keeps glancing back at the castle. Freddie tries to not let it crush his lungs. To Brian, that’s the only place he has known. He doesn’t realize that Freddie is going to get him home. 

Crystal eventually slows down. He doubles over and the sword hits the ground. Freddie stops next to him. 

“We can’t keep this up,” Crystal says, “I can’t keep this up.” 

Freddie looks around, “there’s a place not far from here. If you don’t know about it, you can’t find it.” 

“Okay.” 

He takes the lead, keeping a firm grip on Brian’s hand. They slip down through the brush. Brambles scratching at his bare feet and ankles. The other two are likely not doing much better. He already sees rips on the seams of Brian’s pants and the scratches on Crystal’s upper arms. The brush only grows thicker. 

Freddie heaves in the thick air and keeps moving forward. His back and hips are spasming, and maybe he had been in that prison for longer than the few weeks he thought he had been there. Crystal keeps leaning heavily on the trees. Brian is also sweating heavily, but despite the thinness of his frame, Freddie realizes that he had been fed properly and likely slept on a hay mattress. 

In another time Freddie would tell Brian to lead. 

He grabs a long stick and gives it to Crystal, “we need to keep moving.” 

Their pace picks up slightly, now that they don’t have to wait for Crystal to regain his footing. Freddie holds back tears of pain as the brambles keep cutting deeper into his skin. The day starts to cool as they pass midday. Between the cooler weather and the aid, they manage to get to the spot that Freddie is thinking of before nightfall. 

“Here.” 

Crystal drops to the ground as soon as his feet hit the clearing. Freddie isn’t far behind, dragging Brian down into a sitting position. Brian looks between them and then tries to give Freddie space, which he doesn’t get. The clearing is only fifteen meters across, there’s a large boulder in the middle of it, and a cliff face behind them that happens to have the start of a small stream wrapping around the base. It’s filtered from the mountains. 

Brian pulls away from him again, and this time Freddie lets him go. He watches as Brian tears off a strip of his ruined pants and soaks it in in the water. Crystal manages to maneuver himself to lean against a tree. Freddie breathes in deeply, willing away the aches. 

“Bri, my heart, what are you doing?” He stills at the slip. 

It doesn’t seem like Brian heard him, because he doesn’t get an answer. A few moments later Brian is walking back over to him with four strips of soaked cloth. Freddie tilts his head and jumps with the strip is wrapped around his foot. A second one is quickly wrapped around his other foot. 

The cooling water soon chases away the heat and ache. Brian grins at him before moving over to give Crystal the same treatment. Freddie tracks him lazily. Exhaustion and hunger waring in him. They’re going to have to find a way to feed themselves. 

“Thank you.” 

Brian bows and moves over to his spot next to Freddie. Not as close as they were before, but enough that Freddie relaxes. 

“How are you feeling?” 

Brian shrugs, “hungry. Tired.” 

Freddie can imagine how Brian is underplaying the terror and grief he’s surely feeling at the loss of lives. 

“Crystal?” 

“About the same, but I don’t think there’s anything we can do about the food part.” 

“There are some edible berries that grow near here, but let’s get them in the morning.” 

Crystal tilts his head back against the tree and within seconds he is snoring. Freddie stares straight ahead through the growing darkness. Next to him, Brian slides down to lay in the grass. His long limbs are tightly bundled together, but he seems to be able to fall asleep easily. 

Brian used to take up most of their bed, spreading his arms and legs wide. Freddie used to love it because that meant they could all be touching in their sleep. He swallows and glances up towards the sky. His eyes finding their star automatically. The patterns don’t mean anything to him anymore. 

It takes them three days to recover enough to the point that Freddie is confident that they can cover enough ground to find another safe spot. Then it takes them a week to build up enough supplies he is confident enough they can start the journey. Brian is finishing wrapping their “food,” which consists of berries and a few unlucky fish they managed to snag from a river nearby. Freddie had stolen the burlap sack from the fishing shack.  

His feet have scabbed over, for the most part. They’ll tear open he knows, but with any luck, he won’t have to deal with them opening until later in the day. 

Crystal picks up the sword but instead straps it to his back with leather (again stolen from the shack). It’s less useful, but Freddie is sure the general rule of thumb to not approach a man with a sword should be in place, again. He wishes that the shack had spare clothes. His own have turned more into rags and Crystal’s are held together with a prayer. Brian’s shirt is still mostly intact, but his pants are ruined. 

“Do we have a destination?” Crystal asks. 

“Yeah, North.” 

Freddie wishes he knew how long he had been in prison. It’d give him a better idea of where Roger and John could be hiding out. Not back at their house, but how far would they have gone? Hopefully, they haven’t changed the plan considering they only have each other now. 

“Sounds good.” 

“We’ll go east, to avoid the main trade routes, first, then north.” 

Crystal nods. Freddie grabs Brian’s hand, who frowns. Freddie doesn’t say anything but takes the lead. Brian is trailing behind him and Crystal is bringing up the rear. He grew up in these woods, but the years away from them have changed the terrain so much. Freddie presses on in the direction he hopes is east. They decided that taking off before the sun gave them the best chance of getting out without being detected if there are random patrols. 

His feet split around noon. Freddie hisses and leans against a tree. Brian drops his hand and crouches to examine the damage. 

“We need to stop,” Crystal says. 

“No, we need to keep moving. We’ve already been out longer than I want to be.” 

“Until those feet heal or we have something more for protection, we’re not going to make any progress.” 

“The dogs will smell the blood.” 

Freddie looks down at Brian, “dogs?” 

“They send them after escaped prisoners.” 

“Well, that’s only if the Royal Army wasn’t defeated.” 

Brian glances at him and then prods at his foot again, “you can’t walk on this.” 

“How do you even know this?” 

“I don’t know. But its what I know.” 

Freddie looks at Crystal for help, “if he knew medicine, then maybe they let him keep those memories.” 

It doesn’t make sense. Wouldn’t that make it easier for Brian to remember who he was? Unless they were so confident in their skill. Freddie swallows. Brian drops his foot and looks around the forest blankly. 

“There should be another clearing not far from here. It’s not protected, but we can camp comfortably,” Freddie says before he can start crying. 

This had been their forest. 

Brian and Crystal both take one of his arms and help him hobble in the direction he remembers the clearing in. As it turns out, he doesn’t remember where it is, but they end up finding a space where the roots of the tree form a natural shelter. The moss is more comfortable than the summer-dried grass. 

He climbs into the hollow and then gestures for Brian to join him. Crystal raises his hand and declines. Freddie leans into Brian. 

“We’ve got to treat your feet,” Brian says softly. 

“With what?” 

Brian tilts his head, “I don’t know.” 

Freddie sighs, “then we can’t worry about it.” 

Crystal shakes his head, “we could use the burlap. Tie it on with some of the leather?” 

“I don’t think it’d be thick enough, and then what do we carry our food in?” 

Crystal shrugs, “have to forage each night.” 

“And we’re all in shape for that.” 

“We don’t have a lot of options since you want to get out of here.” 

Freddie scowls, “do you want to hang around the grounds of a castle, mind you we have no idea who is in charge, for a month while my feet heal?” 

“We could use the river,” Brian says softly. 

“What?” Crystal frowns. 

“Brian?” 

Brian shrugs, “the water. The ground would be less hard. Easier for you, too. Even footing.” 

Crystal hums, “it’s worth a shot. Clean water and food, at least.” 

Freddie grasps Brian’s head in his hands, wanting to bring him in for a kiss for his brilliance. He stops when he feels how tense Brian stills. Right, this isn’t his Brian, used to getting affection at every moment of the day. His hands drop to squeeze Brian’s arms, ignoring how he can feel the scaring of the bran beneath his shirt. 

“Sorry.” 

Brian shrugs. 

They settle down after that. The fish hadn’t dried properly (lack of salt) and they were left with a disgusting texture that was both too slimy and too dry. Brian looks green around the gills, but Crystal eats his without complaint. Freddie manages to choke his down, but Brian gives up. 

Crystal takes the rest of Brian’s, “food is food.” 

Freddie tugs Brian to him, “at least it didn’t go to waste.” 

They settle down not long after. Crystal already snoring away at the entrance, and Brian’s blinks draw longer and longer. Freddie strokes his hair but stops when he sees that instead of calming Brian to rest it is waking him up. He rests his hand on Brian’s shoulder and keeps it still. 

It is so strange, having to relearn part of his heart. 

He can’t fall asleep right away. Brian lets out short puffs of air that tickle his chest. Freddie glances up through the roots to the sky. It’s the high season of stars, Brian always said summer was the best time to look up. He also said that about winter. Had he really gotten captured in spring? Are Roger and John looking up at their star now? 

Has Roger already tucked his memories of Freddie in the same box as Brian’s? Is John barely holding himself together staring at nothing for an hour before the tears come? Freddie yearns for them. He glances down at the sleeping form of Brian. Asleep, Freddie can pretend that they’ve only been separated for a few days and that he doesn’t have to watch this Brian and catalog his ticks again. 

The wound of losing Brian had finally scabbed over. Now he is waltzing this version of him straight back to Roger and John, people that this Brian doesn’t know. He runs through the scenario in his head. 

(Freddie calls to Roger and John, who have set up camp for the night. Two heads whip up to see him. The split lip Roger earned from their flight is mostly healed by now, the bruise on John’s hand from stumbling has yellowed. They let him approach, wary and elated. Roger kisses him sound and John wraps him in a hug. 

When Freddie steps back he gestures behind him. Two heads tilt in confusion, but Brian steps into the firelight. Roger would stand still, blue eyes darting over Brian. Cataloging the differences, but John would rush forward. Hugging Brian tightly only to be politely pushed away after a moment. 

Then Brian would say the words that damn them all into misery, “I’m sorry. I don’t know who you are.” 

John would back away, the joy sliding behind the walls he’s built up. Roger steps forward, angry. 

“Is this some kind of joke, Brian?” 

“No,” Freddie would say. 

Roger would bite his cheek before closing his eyes and stepping away, “okay. We. We can handle this in the morning.”) 

Freddie knows keeping Brian’s fate from them is impossible. They deserve to know. To feel the elation of knowing their forth is alive. He just wishes that he could spare them the pain of seeing Brian. Knowing Brian. But having Brian treat him like a stranger. Of acting in ways Brian wouldn’t in a hundred years. 

He doesn’t think he has argued once with Brian since reuniting. It used to be a sport. A game between them. 

At some point, he falls asleep and he is spared dreams. Brian presses his fingers to his face. Freddie opens his eyes and sees the narrowed eyes, Brian is focusing. He watches. Brian is unaware that he has woken up. The trail doesn’t vary, hasn’t varied since that first morning in the prison cell. It hadn’t taken him long to realize that Brian was in charge of waking them all up, but Freddie is the only one he’s ever touched. 

Crystal yawns loudly and Freddie starts. Brian pulls his hands away as though he’s been burned. 

“Good morning, Brian.” 
“Morning.” 

“Crystal, morning!” 

He hears incoherent mumbling. Freddie has learned that Crystal can fall asleep at any point, but waking up is less of a skill. Brian crawls out of their shelter first. Stretching, his arms above his head before slowly dropping them to his side. Freddie pauses. That’s the first familiar gesture he has seen. Then shakes his head, it’s a common way to stretch in the morning. 

They prepare for the journey quickly. Their food supplies depleted from last night’s dinner. Freddie figures only having one night on them equals the same amount of food as would foraging.

Now that they’re traveling next to the river, fish and mushrooms will be plenty. There’s nothing they can use to start a fire. Not that they would, considering it could alert people about their location. Freddie finds walking in the water is only moderately better than the uneven ground. The water creates a constant stinging feel but relieves the feeling almost in the same second. Crystal’s gait improves greatly on the even planes of the bank. Brian walks nervously next to the waterline. Slipping on the mud occasionally. 

It’s like he has never been outside before. Freddie bites his tongue because this Brian probably hasn’t left the grounds beyond the gardens. If he was even allowed that far. 

At least he can see the sky and the river runs east. The downside of going this way is they’re less likely to run into traitors and therefore are going to stick out in their ragged clothes. Freddie bends down and cups water to rub against his neck. 

“There’s someone ahead,” Crystal calls. 

Freddie glances up and sees a silhouette sitting on the bank, a fishing rod in hand. It’s too late to hide in the forest. He prays that the person is kind and won’t immediately turn them into the guards. 

“Brian, come here.” 

Brian stares down at the water before easing into. Freddie wraps his and around Brian’s. He waits for the shout of warning, but none comes. 

“What do you think?” 

“If we try to hide now, they’ll think we’re trying to hide something.” 

Freddie nods, “Brian?” 

“I wouldn’t know what to do.” 

Freddie watches hazel flood with disappointment and uncertainty. Fear, too. He closes his eyes, there will be enough time to break down at how Brian was likely treated as a servant – no slave – later. Preferably when Freddie knows he is in safe hands. 

When they’re only a few meters out, the person raises their hand in greeting. Freddie responds and shares a nervous look with Crystal. He squints. 

“Tim?” 

“Freddie? Brian?” The man stands, “what in the seven – what are you doing back? Where are Roger and John?” 

“Long story and I’d want to tell it somewhere privately.” 

Tim nods. He doesn’t hide his scowl at how Brian is dressed. Freddie knows they’re going to have to explain things. Well, he might as well get the practice now. 

“Follow me, my hunting cabin isn’t far from here.” 

He doesn’t think he’ll ever be more grateful that Tim’s interests drifted from theirs back in their youth. It had caused Brian and Roger enough grief when Tim refused to come with them. Freddie always thought that maybe John had edged him out, unintentionally. 

They walk only a kilometer before reaching the cabin. A brown dog raises its head in greeting before dropping it back down to the grass. Tim keeps looking back at them with confusion clear. Brian attempts to coax the dog to him, which it stands slowly and walks over. Crystal hangs back, his arms occasionally stretching back to his sword. 

“So,” Tim says once they’re all situated in the single room. 

Brian opts to sit on the floor instead of the open chair, the dog quickly settles next to him. Freddie winces. Tim looks at Brian with a strange expression. Crystal doesn’t sit at all but instead leans against the wall nearest to the door. 

“You lot finally got arrested?” 

Freddie shakes his head, “no. Brian did, and I did. Roger and John are oka - alive and free.” 

Brian looks up sharply. 

“And who is your friend?” 

“Crystal, he escaped with us. The castle got sacked, or near to it.” 

Tim grimaces, “I wondered when that would happen.” 

Freddie looks down at Brian, “eh, do you have anything substantial to eat?” 

“There should be cured venison out back,” Tim shrugs, “and a few summer crops.” 

“Brian, you and Crystal want to go get that?” 

Brian stands, apparently thrilled to have something to do. The dog huffs at the loss of scratches. Crystal, on the other hand, doesn’t seem like he likes the idea. 

“Tim and I are old friends.” 

Crystal backs out the door after Brian, “yell if you need help.” 

“Well, he’s a charming bloke,” Tim says once the door slams shut, “want to explain what the hell happened to Bri?” 

“I wish I knew the full story. He… over a year ago… they found us. Bri stayed behind to give us a chance to get out. We didn’t know he was alive. If we had known –” 

“The same thing would have happened to you,” Tim says softly. 

“They took his memories. Crystal says to humiliate him.” 

Tim walks over to him and places a comforting hand on his shoulder, “it isn’t your fault.” 

“No, I know. I just wish I could be angry that they did that to Brimi.” 

“You aren’t?” 

“I’m furious,” Freddie spits, “but what is getting mad going to solve? I just feel hopeless. It’s Brian but at the same time it isn’t.”  

“Well, you four have always landed on your feet.” 

Freddie nods. 

“I mean, what, you get taken just before the castle is sacked? They were going to kill you!” 

Again he nods. 

Tim drops down to grab Freddie’s forearm. Freddie yelps, yanking it away from the touch. He cradles it to his chest, but Tim’s eyes have narrowed. 

“Freddie, let me see.” 

There isn’t a point in hiding it. Brian had learned most of his healer mannerisms from Tim, and Freddie could never get out of Brian looking him over. He rolls the sleeve up. The brand has healed but pus seeps out of a fresh cut. It must have come from the bramble. 

“Avors’ mercy, that’s infected, Fred!” 

Tim curses more and goes over to the shelf. A few pouches are scattered about, but Tim grabs them all and comes back to kneel in front of Freddie. A cloth is dragged across the cut and Tim pours a tiny container of clear alcohol on it. Freddie bites his second hand to keep from screaming out. Then a gross smelling salve is spread across it before Tim wraps it tightly in linen bandages. New ones judging by their brightness. 

“Thank you.” 
“You could die, Freddie. You get that?” Tim sighs, “Brian. The way he is now? He isn’t going to notice. That’s not what he’s trained to do. And then where will that leave him, in the hands of a prisoner who can barely stand upright?” 

“That’s a lie.” 

“Oh yeah? How long did it take Brian to notice any of you felt off, hm? Before, when he was still Brian.” 

Freddie looks away. 

“Listen,” Tim turns away to put his healer’s tools way, “I’ve heard about what they’ve done to Brian. What you do now? Treat him like any stranger. He isn’t going to know better. Help him heal from whatever hell they did to him, but you’re going to have to teach him that it wasn’t right.” 

“He is going to come back.” 

“You’re delusional, Freddie.” 

“That’s what you said when we told you we were leaving.” 

“And look where it got you, Brian. Hells, are you even certain Roger and John are alive anymore?” 

Freddie must believe they are. He feels like they are. Just like he feels that Brian can come back to him, as he was. 

Tim sighs, “maybe… maybe Brian will remember something. But that doesn’t mean he will ever remember all of it. You can’t expect it to work like your dammed fairy tales.” 

The door reopens. Brian is holding a drying rack between two hands as far away as he can put it. Again looking green as the dried meat sways. Crystal holds a basket of vegetables under one arm. 

“I think we’ll have stew,” Tim says, sparing Brian a sympathetic look. 

Freddie is comfortable for the first time in forever. Tim sacrificed the cot in the corner to Crystal, who hasn’t had a bed in what Freddie imagines months. Instead, Tim’s settled himself underneath the table with a thin cloth over his feet hands pillowed on his arms. 

Brian is, naturally, curled into his side. They lie on a rug, the fur making the floor soft. The dog rests next to their feet. He stares out of the window as Brian dries patterns in the fur. Freddie can’t help but think about Tim’s words. This can’t be all that Brian will think he has come from. A palace slave.  

The stars don’t give him any answers.  

Because they are the answer! Freddie sits up dislodging Brian, who frowns and looks around worriedly. 

“Bri, with me.” 

Brian follows willingly, offering his hand automatically. Freddie shoves the thought away that it’s what he has trained Brian to do, and replaces the thought with the idea that Brian wants to hold his hand. They sneak out of the front door. Crystal snuffles as the night air brushes against him. 

“Shut the door quietly, yeah, like that.” 

Freddie drags him a few meters away from the door before dropping down to the grass. It dampens his pants, but Tim promised to give them what extras he can tomorrow. Brian sits down next to him, carefully and properly. 

“Come here.” 

Brian frowns but drops down to his back. Freddie mirror the position. He looks at Brian who is watching him. 

“Look at the stars.” 

Brian does so. Freddie keeps his eyes trained on his reaction. Slowly Brian’s face moves from impassively confused to relaxed to pure awe. Freddie lets out a soft sigh. He knew it. Then Brian pushes himself onto his hands, head still craned back, eyes drinking in the expanse of white on black. 

The full moon blocks out some of them. Freddie starts crying because moonlight sweeping across Brian’s cheeks is something he thought he lost forever. 

(“I wonder what stars are made out of,” Brian whispers. 

Roger shrugs, “does it matter? They’re up there.” 

Freddie swats at Roger, “have some romance.” 

Roger bites his thumb in Freddie’s direction before crawling on top of Brian. He dislodges John’s arm, before laying flat on Brian’s chest. 

“Excuse me,” Brian whines. 

John grumbles something, and then somehow manages to slide under Roger’s arm and halfway onto Brian’s chest. Freddie feels left out but spares Brian the extra weight by pinning one of his arms underneath Freddie’s head. 

“Maybe you’ll figure out what they are, my heart.”) 

Brian turns away from the sky. White light backlights his mess of curls, forming a halo behind him. His lips are parted in concern, and for the first time, the hazel eyes aren’t vacant. 

“I’m hurting you.” 

Freddie sits up, “no, you aren’t.” 

“I am,” Brian says adamantly. 

He is knocked back by the familiarity in the tone of voice. 

“See! I do something, and then you look… hurt? Like you did when they gave you the brand.” 

Freddie rubs at the bandaged mark. 

“It isn’t you.” 

Brian blinks, “I don’t understand. Why do I hurt you? I don’t brand you? Or come at you with a sword or knife.” 

“Some hurts aren’t physical,” Freddie hushes, “and I forgive you because you aren’t doing it on purpose.” 

“But why?” 

Freddie doesn’t know how to explain. Brian would likely end up more distressed not knowing something but then again isn’t he telling himself that he doesn’t know. He places his head in his hands and fights back the tears. Not yet. Not now. 

“Because you remind me of someone important to me.” 

Brian leans back. Head titled and eyes narrowed in a familiar problem-solving way. Freddie laughs because now is when Brian looks most like Brian. When he has been given back the stars. He had always known music and stars were Brian’s first loves, but Freddie had hoped that one day they’d be the more important ones. 

The look settles into something Freddie doesn’t quite know, but he does know that Brian has decided on something. He smiles because Brian’s gaze is turned back up towards the stars. Freddie lays back down the only light from the moon and the bracelets around Brian’s wrists. 

He grabs Brian’s hand and examines it. Brian makes a noise of confusion but keeps his eyes trained upwards. Freddie can’t find a clasp to undo the band. It won’t slide off, being just tight enough. How’d they even get them on in the first place? 

Brian settles down next to him but doesn’t move to take his hand back. Their eyes meet and Freddie winks and Brian blinks in confusion. If he closes his eyes he can almost imagine the noises from the cabin belong to Roger shifting in the bed searching for warmth or John’s sleepy inquires about where people have gone. Brian’s eyes slip closed and his breathing evens out. 

“I miss you,” Freddie breathes. 

The sky turns pink before he falls asleep. Inside he hears Tim waking up, he nudges Brian who groans before fluttering his eyes open. 

“Whassat?” 

Freddie snorts, “up.” 

Brian slowly complies rubbing his eyes and shaking out some of the dew from his hair. Freddie plucks out stray pieces of grass and tosses them to the side. 

“Honestly, you look like you’ve lived in the forest your entire life, you wood nymph.” 

He sighs, having forgotten exactly the situation was in when Brian merely tilts his head in confusion. John is more a nymph either way. 

“Ah,” Tim wanders out, “star-gazing?” 

“Something like that.” 

Brian walks past Tim with a nod. Tim grabs Freddie’s arm. 

“Remember what I said. It won’t be the same Brian, ever.” 

“I don’t care,” Freddie replies, “as long as I can have him in my life, I’ll figure out the rest.” 

“And the others?” 

“I’ll figure it out.” 

Crystal is filling bowls with the left-over stew. It’s warm from sitting on embers all night. Brian eats around the meat, swapping his with Crystal for his vegetables for the most part. Freddie takes his bowl. 

“Clothes are on the cot. I don’t know how well they’ll fit,” Tim shrugs, “I’ll be out back for a second.” 

Freddie quickly finishes before moving over to Tim’s assorted clothes. Many of them are repaired thrice-over and becoming threadbare, but they are all currently dressed in rags. Freddie grabs a red tunic and brown pants. For Brian, he pulls out the largest tunic he can find and the longest pants he can see. 

“Bri, here.” 

Brian catches the offered clothes. He sets his bowls down and then looks around the room. 

“We’ve all got the same bits,” Freddie shrugs taking off his shirt. 

He checks the bandage to see yellow is seeping through, but it isn’t throbbing as much as it had yesterday. Brian stares at it. Freddie waves him off. The rough linen feels like heaven against his skin. He shucks his pants, surprised to see that Tim has also offered them clean small clothes. 

When Freddie is fully dressed, he sees that Brian has almost finished his task, there’s a pale scare next to his spine that Freddie has never seen before. Longer ones too, but they’re fresher. Raised and crisscrossing his back. He swallows back the sick.  

Brian pulls on the hem to smooth it out. The tunic sleeves are too short and ride up, the brand is barely visible, but the shape is unmistakable. They’re going to have to find something to cover it up.  

Crystal picks out his own set of clothes, but leaves the cabin, “I’ll take my privacy please!” 

Freddie understands, there wasn’t much privacy in the cells. He pulls Brian out to stare at the curve lines of the brand. 

“You have the same mark,” Brian says. 

“Yes.” 

Brian stares at him. Freddie doesn’t know how to explain it. How do you explain to someone that they were tried as a traitor and then forced into being that person’s slave? Even if that’s not the crime they were caught for. Tim returns. 

“Well, I found an old armguard for archery and a belt sheathe with a dagger. Unfortunately, that’s all I can spare.” 

“Give me the bracer.” 

Freddie secures the dry-rotted leather to Brian’s arm. It covers the mark thankfully. Brian rotates his arm looking at it. 

“Too tight?” 

“I don’t think so.” 

He checks the strapping and it at least seems like is fitted as good as can be. Crystal return to the cabin, running his hands down the shirt, with a look relief on his face. Freddie nods in greeting but then starts fussing with Brian’s shirt. 

“I’ll take the dagger I think,” he says after a moment. 

Tim tosses it to him and he quickly secures the strap around his waist.  

“Right,” Tim says, “one more thing.” 

Freddie frowns as Tim once again takes a step out, but comes back with their burlap sack, shaped as though it’s filled with something.  

“I put some rations in there. Probably enough for three days?” 

“You don’t have to.” 

“Eh, I’ll just stay out here for a little while longer. Sounds like it’s the best choice either way.” 

Brian takes the sack. 

“We should probably be going.” 

Tim nods. 

Crystal is the first to leave to wait outside, he shakes Tim’s hand with a heartfelt thank you. Freddie looks between Brian and Tim, and he realizes that Tim hasn’t said much to Brian. He frowns, Tim was telling him to treat Brian like a stranger but here he is pretending the situation doesn’t exist. 

“Brian,” Time sticks his hand out. 

Brian takes it but is pulled into a tight hug by Tim. It lasts only a few seconds but Brian’s face lights up in confusion. Tim holds him at arm's length with a heavy gaze. 

“Take care of yourself.” 

Tim turns to Freddie then. They hug, it isn’t as tight as the hug with Brian looked, but it felt nice. Tim pulls away and pats his hand once. 

“You take care of yourself as well, there are new bandages in the bag, watch over him?” 

“Thank you, and I will.” 

Tim follows him outside. Freddie wishes that Tim had shoes to spare, but he has a feeling that Tim was already going to be hurting from the kindness he showed them. He doesn’t even know what they would have to trade for them. He sends Tim a wave and then steps into the water. 

“Watch over yourself, Freddie!” Tim reminds him.

His muscles aren’t nearly as sore starting out today being able to rest on something other than hard ground (stargazing excluded) and having been properly fed for the first time in a long time. Even Crystal seems in high spirits, despite the tight press of lips he has. Brian is unreadable, but his gait is easier today. 

“How far north are you going?” Crystal asks. 

Freddie jumps in surprise, “how far?” 

“Mm.” 

“To the border, beyond it.” 

“And do you know where the other two are?” 

“I know where they should be if the plan hasn’t changed all that much.” 

Crystal sends him a hard look. It’s nothing he hasn’t already thought about. Roger and John changing the path last minute or having gotten lost or even changing the entire plan. Freddie has to believe that they wouldn’t, it’s all they talked about for the past three years (even with Brian out of their reach). 

“Either way, I know where they’re supposed to end up so if all else fails I’ll go there.” 

Crystal frowns. 

Freddie shrugs. The man is more than welcome to leave at any point. He isn’t entirely sure why the man has stuck with them thus far, but Freddie isn’t about to question a helpful hand. 

“Where are you from Crystal?” 

“The capital.” 

“I see. What did you do, before all of this?” 
“I worked with the blacksmith keeping his orders straight given that I can read and write.” 

Freddie catches the hint that Crystal doesn’t want to talk about himself.  

They find the main road a week and some days later. Freddie doesn’t want to walk on it, but they need to find a town if nothing else to steal supplies. Crystal is grumbling about it too, and Brian is content to let them both make the decisions. 

Isoi must have shined on them because it’s only noon on that third day on the road that they find a proper town. Freddie sighs in relief, it’s a small enough town that strangers are going to stick out, but large enough to warrant strangers visiting. He glances back at Brian’s wrists. That’s going to be harder to hide, but it doesn’t seem like this town is protected by the Royal Army. 

A few people watch them warily as they approach the gate, which is two smoothed trees at the side of the road. There isn’t a single guard either. They must not get many troubled guests. Freddie grips Brian’s hand who stares at their joined grip with confusion. 

Crystal takes the lead, probably distracting people from Brian, who sticks out. Would stick out even if he wasn’t a technical run-away servant. Providing the Royals are still in charge. Ah. They probably should figure that out at some point. 

“General store,” Crystal nods. 

They step inside, shielding themselves from the curious gazes of the villagers. There is only one other patron in the store and the owner who straightens. 

“Welcome! Looks like you have seen better days.” 

Crystal glances back at Freddie, who steps forward. 

“Bandits in the woods, unfortunately.” 

“Again? You’d think that with as many times as they’ve been cleared out they’d learn.” 

Freddie shrugs, “can’t imagine they’re the brightest minds of the world.” 

The owner laughs, “what can I do for you?” 

“We need supplies, shoes preferably, but unfortunately the bandits took most of our money.” 

There’s always a chance a man may be sympathetic, “well the cobbler might have something. But he doesn’t keep much stock on him, there isn’t a need to.” 

“And well, I’d love to help you but times are rough…” 

It’s what he expected. 

“What if we traded?” Brian asks quietly. 

Freddie turns towards him. Fear in his heart. 

“If you can get these off, they’re yours and we get a reasonable trade.” 

Brian holds out both wrists. Freddie wants to cover his hands, but its too late, the clerk is looking at them with interest. He gestures Brian forward and turns over his arm looking at the bracelets. 

“Very well made, and some magic too. If you can get the blacksmith to get them off I think we’ll have a deal.” 

Freddie sighs in relief and sees the tension slip from Crystal too. The clerk must not have ever seen a palace servant (how many of them are just like Brian? Slaves but they don’t know it.) before. There would have been no reason for a visit of such prestige out this way, at least not to such a small village.

“Thank you, we’ll see him then.” 

Freddie grabs Brian’s hand and drags him out. 

“That was stupid,” he hisses. 

“Why? He agreed to give us supplies. Maybe he’ll even give you enough to get shoes?” 

Freddie whispers, “because if he had known what those are, then he could have called the guard.” 

“There’s no guard here?” 

“Well, if we get rid of those things now, it’ll make things easier in the long run,” Crystal shrugs. 

He can’t argue with that. Freddie just wishes he had more control over this situation. Maybe the owner did know and was just pretending not to so he would have enough time to get a runner to an outpost. Freddie tights his grip on Brian’s hand, rubbing his thumb across the back of it. Brian hums. 

The blacksmith is a little outside of town, likely to keep the fumes from causing the entire town to smell like forge work. Crystal raises his hand in greeting when the blacksmith raises his gaze. 

“Hello.” 

“Can I help you? Need a sword sharpened?” 

Crystal shakes his head, “no, we need to get jewelry off my friend here.” 

Brian raises his hand. The blacksmith’s eyes narrow on the bracelet and Freddie feels worry crawl down his back. He pushes Brian forward but stays next to him. There’s barely a space between them. Crystal stays near them too.  

The blacksmith takes Brian’s hand, smearing coal across his forearm. Brian tenses and Freddie steps forward in a warning. 

“Yeah, I can get them off. Need them intact?” 

“Yes, please,” Brian says quietly. 

He hasn’t made eye contact with this man. Freddie’s frown deepens. This situation is quickly growing less favorable.  

“Got it.” 

The blacksmith stands and moves towards his tools. He picks up a pair of tongs and a chisel before gesturing Brian to place his hand against the cooled anvil. Freddie wraps his arms around himself, one hand inching towards his dagger. Brian stays perfectly still as the blacksmith pops the first one off with ease, and then the second one. 

Freddie stares as the two pieces fall to the anvil. There isn’t a single crack on them beyond what the blacksmith created. Crystal turns to look at him and Freddie nods. They need to go now. The owner may not have known what these were, but this blacksmith certainly does. 

He hadn’t examined them thoroughly enough to know how to get them off. Freddie grabs the two bracelets with a smile. 

“Thank you very much.” 

Brian dips his head, still not making eye contact. Freddie grabs his hand before taking off out of the smoky shop. Crystal keeps his eyes trained on the man. They pick up their pace, Brian stumbling at the unexpected movement. 

“Why?” 

“Trust me,” Freddie says. 

“Why?” 

Freddie inhales sharply, “because that man knew what these were. He also knows that we aren’t supposed to have a palace sla – servant with us.” 

“And?” 

“Short of it is that he is probably going to go to the outpost and if it’s the Royal Army they’re going to send someone after us so we need to move before we end up where we started.” 

Brian frowns. 

“I’ll explain everything once I know we’re safe, okay?” 

“Okay.” 

Freddie takes them off the road the moment the underbrush gets thicker. Branches swat at his face and again his feet are cut up with thorns, but he’s used to it by now. Brian ducks through the brush as best he can. Crystal has the easiest time, taking up the rear means most of the hazards have already been found.  

“We should make our scents confusing, in case they have dogs. And something of ours.” 

They spend a good portion of the rest of the day laying false tracks and trying to make their scent confusing. By the time evening arises Freddie is confident that their scents are hard enough to sort through. For good measure, they stay in the tiny stream running through this part of the forest. 

“We should push through the night,” Crystal says. 

“Good plan.” 

Freddie keeps a tight hold on Brian’s wrist as the sky darkens. They step out of the river, to lessen the chances of someone slipping and injuring themselves. The moon has only faded a sliver, she provides a good amount of light for them.  

“Do we keep going in the day?” 

“As best we can,” Crystal says, “I want the distance, and hopefully they’ll only be searching the area that they think we can reach during the day.” 

Freddie nods. 

“Bri, how are you feeling?” 

“Okay.” 

Freddie glances down Brian, relieved to see that it seems like Brian was speaking the truth about being able to continue. He looks ahead and sighs. There’s no choice but to press on. 

Dawn breaks uneventfully. Freddie bites back his yawn and entertains himself with playing with Brian’s hand. Crystal is staggering more, but Brian’s gait remains even and his gaze alert. More alert than it has been in days previous. Freddie wants to ask about it but keeps quiet for now. 

“Food?” 

Freddie nods as does Crystal, “we can take a few minutes for a break. It does us no good to collapse in exhaustion.” 

They walk for a few meters before they find a space good enough to rest on. A few fallen logs surround a stump. If Freddie was more prone to superstition, he would worry they were about to sit in a Fae garden. As it is, they sit down. Brian at his feet and Crystal across from them. Freddie takes the sack from Brian and digs out their last two pieces of jerky before tossing it to Crystal.

He struggles to tear off a piece for Brian and hands it to him. Brian carefully pulls his apart chewing slowly and unhappily. Freddie frowns, knowing that Brian has always had a dislike of eating meat (despite the necessity of it). 

“I think we’re good to start turning completely north now.” 

“Yeah?” Crystal pauses, “no I think we can. How far is it until you and your friends were last together?” 

“From here?” 

“How far could they have gotten?” 

Freddie chews thoughtfully. He doesn’t think Roger would push John, especially when he may still be able to catch up to them. If they move at their usual pace, “if we push we could probably catch up to them in a few weeks.” 

“Nearly a month, then.” 

Brian looks between them and then towards the direction of the woods. Freddie straightens and tilts his head. Closing his eyes he can make out the faint jingle of horse harnesses. 

“Alvors' mercy,” he curses, “horses.” 

Crystal stands, “can you tell how many?” 

“Too many.” 

Freddie grabs Brian and pulls him to his feet, “we need to move out of the open. To the tree line.” 

They run. Crystal hits the underbrush first, Freddie a close second but he throws Brian underneath him. He mumbles an apology into the back of Brian’s neck for landing on him so roughly. Freddie turns his head enough to see two riders emerge from a hunting trail a little further away from where they had been. 

Brian whimpers. Freddie claps a hand over his mouth, keeping his eyes on the two riders. One dismounts, his cloak fluttering to reveal the Royal seal. He picks up the burlap sack that they left. Crystal starts sliding away further into the forest. He nods and climbs off Brian. His eyes don’t leave the two scouts who are gesturing towards the woods behind them. 

He waves his hand to get Brian to follow him. Brian starts to shimmy forward. Crystal brushes against a bush which startles a nest of birds, who squawk in protest before taking off towards the sky. Freddie curses and gets to his feet. Brian and Crystal follow suit, and they take off further in the forest. 

Someone yells behind them. It urges Freddie faster, but the chimes of harnesses and chainmail grow louder and more urgent. Crystal grabs his arms and throws him down into a ravine. He barely keeps himself from crying out as his body rolls over various debris. Crystal’s hand goes around his mouth as they lay as flat as they can against the hillside. His eyes dart around trying to find Brian. 

When he doesn’t find him he starts fighting against Crystal. He needs to find Brian! He just got him back! He needs to – he needs to! Crystal’s grip is surprisingly strong and Freddie doesn’t have the strength to keep up his struggle. He leans against his companion and shakes. Praying to Celara that Brian will be fine. That he found a place to hide not far from them. 

“Over there!” 

He closes his eyes to the burn. 

Crystal lets go once the sounds of horses can no longer be heard. Freddie pushes away from him, shoving the other man back down onto the ground. 

“You! How could you just – why did you leave Brian!” 

Crystal stands, wiping the dust off of him, “because I could grab you.” 

“You should’ve grabbed Brian! Now they’re going to take him back there and do Alvors knows what! Maybe kill him. Maybe turn him fully into a mindless slave!” 

Freddie wipes his eyes. The dirt causes them to water more fiercely. 

“It doesn’t – Brian isn’t who you think he is anymore! He’s not your Brian!” 

“Bullshit! He was your friend first! Why save me?” 

“I wanted to save him! But I saved you because I promised!” Crystal’s voice breaks. 

Freddie steps back, “promised?” 

“Before. Before he went fully under, he made me swear that if I ever met any of you, I’d protect you!” 

“What?” 

“He figured that I’d probably get released, and not that he was completely there when he made me promise, but he thought that somehow I’d run into you. He said that I had to make sure you all got to The Place.” 

Freddie bites his cheek. 

“So I promised if only to make his last days of being him comfortable, but now that you’re in front of me, I can’t let go an oath like that.” 

Freddie backs up and slides down a tree. He presses his head to his hands but manages to keep his shaking to a minimum. He had Brian. Had him only a few meters away and he let him go. Let him slip through his grasp exactly as he had a year ago. 

“Freddie?” 

He looks up. Brian is standing next to Crystal, a long gash across his cheek and sticks poke out from his hair. There’s a long tear on his shirt. It sorts of looks like he got thrown down the side of a cliff. Or rather, threw himself down the ravine. 

Freddie practically jumps onto Brian toppling him over.  He hugs him as tightly as he can. Brian’s hands pull at his shirt, and he fights the urge to hold on tighter before he realizes that Brian is trying to pull him closer.  

He had said Freddie’s name! 
The realization is still not enough to get him to release his grip. Eventually, his shaking dies down and he sits up. Brian has leaves stuck in his hair and a small smile on his lips. Freddie realizes that he hasn’t seen a smile so familiar from him. He doesn’t want to get off of Brian. 

“Try to not scare me like that again, I simply cannot take it.” 

“Sorry,” Brian says, “I went down the other side.” 

Crystal snorts, “wonderful, crisis adverted.” 

Freddie scans Brian’s face, but he doesn’t see anything he’s used to seeing from fond exasperation to full love to even a tiny hint of lust. The name thing is probably something he had done on reflex. It still sounded so nice though. 

“Freddie?” 

“Sorry,” Freddie stands. 

“S’okay,” Brian frowns, “can I call you Freddie?” 

It is strange because he’s used to Brian calling him Fred most of the time, Freddie only comes out when he’s feeling too much. He’ll take it though. 

“Yeah, that’s fine.” 
“Now that it’s all sorted,” Crystal says almost bitter, “think we can get a move on before the scouts come back this way?” 
“How’d they not see us?” Freddie frowns. 

“I tossed a stick in the opposite direction. They couldn’t see the fall.” 

Freddie brings Brian into another hug. Memories or no, Brian’s intelligence is still first-rate. He vaguely recalls the time he and Roger had done the same thing when they were playing in the forest. The memory makes him smile. They’ll get to do that again. 

“Right, let’s go.” 

He grabs Brian’s hand tightly. Brian falls in step next to him almost automatically. Freddie lets out another content sigh, that Brian is realizing that he doesn’t need to continue acting as he had in the palace. Brian squeezes and gives him an encouraging look. 

Freddie wipes his thumb over Brian’s wrist, realizing how the color contrasted. Even if Brian is still pale by most standards the part that had been covered is even paler. It means he had worn that for months. Not that he is too surprised, he didn’t think the Royals would keep a prisoner like Brian around for a full year without doing anything to him. 

“Okay, north should be, this way?” 

He glances in the direction Crystal is pointing, “yes.” 

Brian tilts his head back and stares at the sun and nods. Freddie wonders if he was agreeing for the sake of it or if he knew. Before this, Brian had always had an excellent navigation ability, by the sun or stars he never got lost. He always brought them back home. 

They walk for several kilometers before Crystal stumbles and falls to the ground. Freddie drops Brian’s hand to help situate him against a tree. 

“Are you alright?” 

“My leg,” Crystal grunt. 

Freddie pokes at the lower part but slowly climbs up the leg until he reaches just above the knee. Even without training as a healer, he can tell that it’s swollen and the leg above looks discolored. 

“Must’ve been the fall.” 

Brian crouches next to him, poking around the spot gently with this thumb. Crystal practically jumps at the slight pressure. Freddie bites his lip. He isn’t sure that Crystal is going to be able to walk any further, but they don’t have the time to wait around. The scouts could come back or Roger and John might have moved on by then. 

“Brian?” 

“Bruised. I think. Not broken.” 

“Well, that’s good news.” 

Crystal scowls, “for who?” 

“All of us.” 

“The supplies. In the sack.” 

Which they had forgotten when they heard the scouts. Isoi has certainly rescinded her blessing. Freddie tsks and looks around. There are plenty of plants but he doesn’t know if any of them can be used for healing, or if they would just poison Crystal. He doubts that Brian would have been allowed to keep that knowledge. 

“Maybe,” Brian mumbles, “splint?” 

“I’ll see if I can find any straight sticks.” 

“Do you know what you’re doing?” Crystal asks Brian. 

“I know I’m doing something,” Brian shrugs, “I remember doing this. For someone.” 
Freddie wonders if he remembers having to set John’s ankle the time he rolled it in the gopher hole. The bruise hadn’t looked as bad as Crystal’s and he could still walk.  

“Well,” Crystal says dryly, “I don’t think I have many options here.” 

Brian nods seriously. 

Freddie snorts but continues his search for the straightest sticks he can find. Thankfully, there is an abundance of branches because they’re in the forest and it doesn’t take him long to find things that are passable.  

“How are we going to tie this?” 

Brian gestures towards his ruined shirt. 

“I’m starting to think you like the ripped clothes,” Freddie sighs. 

“Don’t have anything else.” 

“The leather from the sword.” 

“We don’t need the sword?” Brian frowns. 

“I haven’t gotten much use, and it’s one more thing we don’t have to worry about.” 

Brian looks to Freddie for confirmation, who nods, “yeah.” 

They sit Crystal up and toss the sword to the side. The leather strips have stretched and torn, but for the most part, are still intact. Freddie holds the sticks in place while Brian ties the leather in place. They have to stab holes into the strips in order to be able to tie them together, and they have to use the ties from Brian’s pants to thread them together. 

It’s not exactly pretty, and Freddie isn’t entirely sure it’s functional. He offers his hands to Crystal who takes them and stands with a long groan. Freddie steps back and Crystal stands but remains standing, albeit shakily. 

“Do we keep going?” Brian asks. 

“Do you want to rest, Crystal?” 

“Maybe, a bit. Not too long.” 

Brian helps lower Crystal to the ground again. Once he is certain their companion is as comfortable as can be, Freddie grips Brian’s chin in his hand. He examines the cut on Brian’s cheek. It’s deeper than he first thought, and he swipes at it with the sleeve of his tunic.  

“Sorry, my heart.” 

Blood continues to leak to the surface. Freddie swipes at the gash a few more times, each time earning another grimace.  

“We probably need to put water on this.” 

“There isn’t any,” Brian shrugs. 

Freddie nods.  They don’t have a canteen either, having relied on the river for any time they needed a drink. He sighs before ripping off the dangling part of Brian’s shirt and balling it up to press against the gash. 

“Hold that there until the blood stops.” 

Brian takes the fabric and holds it tightly. It isn’t a good enough treatment, and he hates that Brian now has a good portion of his stomach showing to the world. 

“I’m sorry.” 

“What for?” 

Everything, Freddie thinks. Letting him get captured in the first place. Not being able to keep what meager supplies they had with them. With any luck or Isoi’s good grace, neither wound will end in an infection, and his own will heal without changing the bandages daily. 

“You shouldn’t be hurting,” Freddie says instead. 

Brian shrugs, “s’not so bad.” 

Freddie leans against a tree and gestures for Brian to join him. Brian sits down next to him. He fights the urge to wrap Brian up and drag him to his chest. Crystal watches them from across their tiny safe harbor.  

He entertains himself by picking out the debris from Brian’s hair. For as short as his hair currently it, the curls seem to like to grip onto everything they can. Freddie isn’t surprised when Brian slumps against him, breathing even. 

“I don’t get it.” 

Freddie hums, twisting out a stubborn twig. 

“It’s like he trusts you. He shouldn’t.” 

“You trust me.” 

“I made a promise. That’s different.” 

“You don’t think you can keep a promise even if you’ve forgotten it?” 

“I don’t know,” Crystal shrugs, “I’d imagine no.” 

Freddie shrugs, “I think the gods like making us keep them.” 

At least Celara would. He is certain that she wouldn’t be so cruel. Freddie tosses the twig into the pile. Brian mumbles something and shifts so that his nose is puffing air against the column of his throat. 

“I’m glad he has you,” Crystal says, then clears his throat, “had you. In there.” 

Freddie desperately wants to ask. Crystal looks at Brian and then away. It is probably something that he needs to talk about with Brian. What could he say anyway? He has no idea what happened between the two of them, and he has a feeling that his stay was so “pleasant” because of the rebels distracting the Royals. 

“He’ll always have us,” Freddie says instead. 

Crystal hums, “I think I might be able to see that now.” 

They wait until the sun has begun to set before they move. 

“We won’t have much light soon.” 

“I’d feel better moving.” 

Freddie shrugs, “I won’t disagree, but I don’t expect much progress.” 

“We should try to find water,” Brian mumbles. 

“Ah, you’re awake.” 

“You’re talking.” 

Brian helps Crystal stand while Freddie gets his bearings. It doesn’t sound like there’s any water nearby, and he doesn’t know how far away from the main road they’ve gotten. He knows there won’t be one far, this area of the country is known for its rivers and lakes unless they’ve traveled much further than he thought they have. 

He wishes they didn’t get chased out of the town and he could have bought a map. With the bracelets gone, they don’t have anything to trade, and they’re on too much of a time crunch to work for pay. Freddie glances back at Brian and Crystal. Before all of this, Brian had been ambivalent about thievery so long as they stole from the people that could afford it. 

“We need to find another town,” he says. 

“It worked so well last time,” Crystal replies. 

“This time we aren’t going to ask.” 
Brian tilts his head with a puzzled expression, but Crystal raises his eyebrow. 

“Really? Hadn’t taken you for a thief.” 

“Never heard the full story of us then?” Freddie laughs, “Bri wasn’t exactly thrilled with us, none of wanted to but we didn’t have a choice.” 

At least when they had to start stealing for the first time in years.

(Freddie had been sick. Ill enough to warrant a visit to a trained healer and not Brian’s limited knowledge. They didn’t have the money for it. They barely had enough for food. 

He remembers Brian running his hand through his hair whispering comforts and platitudes every time he asked after John or Roger.  

Brian had never told him how long it had taken them that time to steal both medicine and food, but longer than Brian preferred. After that, it had become almost a monthly habit. Even Brian, who usually stayed behind, was quite the pickpocket.) 

“No, he never shared.” 

Freddie shrugs, “then I won’t kiss and tell, but I think I still am good enough to get what we need.” 

“Well, you weren’t caught for that at least.” 
He laughs. 

They find their way back to the road early morning two days later and by late evening stumble upon a sleepy hamlet. Freddie nods towards the side of the road. The trees have thinned out by now, and he can just make out the flag marking the Royal Highway. He glances back a Crystal who has also noticed the flag. Brian presses into his side. 

“Why aren’t we going?” 

“We need to wait until night.” 

Brian frowns, “what for?” 

Freddie shakes his head. Brian lets out an annoyed huff but turns his gaze out to the hamlet. He thinks for a moment and he’s certain he knows where they are now. The village they had been chased out of must’ve been on the Nation Road.  

“We’re in the middle,” Freddie whispers. 

“So, we’ve backtracked?” 

“We had to, there wasn’t a way we could get back up that ravine.” 

“Brian managed.” 

“You only jumped down a little right? Like you and John used to do?” 

Brian blinks, “John?” 

“Ah.” 

Crystal coughs, diverting their attention to one of the patrols. They’re going to have to be careful this close to the Royal Highway. Scouts won’t be so easily fooled by men throwing themselves down holes. Especially ruthless given the failed coup, or what Freddie assumes was a failed coup given that the scouts still wear the royal crest. 

The scouts ride by and Freddie gestures for them to move. They reach the edge of the hamlet by nightfall. Only a few people are still awake, given away by the candles in their window. Most of the stores have been abandoned. Their owners had gone next door or upstairs for the night. 

“You know how to do this?” 

“I’ve got an idea.” 

“Brian, watch and make sure no one sees us.”  

“What do I do if someone sees?” 

Freddie tosses him the dagger, “depends on how close they get. Whistle if they just see, if they try anything, use that.” 

Brian holds the dagger nervously; he looks ill at the thought of using it. Freddie is certain that no one is going to cause trouble. Who would be stupid enough to steal from a town directly on the Royal Highway? He chuckles, little do they know that’s how he grew up. Him and his boys. 

“Stay here.” 

“Why?” 

“So, you can see, don’t worry we’ll be quick.” 

Brian doesn’t look happy about being left behind. Freddie pats his cheek twice, which earns him a very Roger-style scowl. He blinks, seeing the scowl isn’t surprising, but the fact that this Brian does it so well. Freddie shakes his head and the scowl becomes just a scowl. Crystal raises an eyebrow. 

Freddie tracks his eyes down to his splinted leg, “are you sure you’ll be able to do this?” 

“Let’s move.” 

He had learned early on that the sooner after the people have gone to sleep the more likely the heist will go off unnoticed because most noises will be written off as someone else in the building still up. Freddie glides to the back of the general store. Swiping his hand over the window sill, there’s no spiked woods or cords that would pull something off. 

“Boost me.” 

Crystal locks his hands and Freddie uses it as a step up, he winces at the grunt. His frame is easily able to slip through the gap. All he has to do is push the shudders to the side and he’s in the back of the store, which is more of a storeroom. Bless Isoi.  

“Stay down there, I’ll toss it to you!” 

Crystal seems relieved that he doesn’t have to climb up the side of a building. 

He moves quickly, grabbing a leather knapsack and tossing as much food as he could into it. Jerkies, loaves of bread, and fruits. Once it’s full he tosses it out to Crystal. He grabs a second, smaller pouch and this time raids the medical supplies. Mostly bandages and salves. A single needle and thread, before tossing that one out as well. 

Freddie slips through the door into the main building. The storeroom door is next to the staircase. He can’t linger, the light is flickering down the steps, but there is no sound of anyone talking or anyone sleeping. Keeping low to the ground he scans the few shelves, and then the baskets of fabric. 

Their luck must be turning, because he finds at the bottom of each three pairs of cloth slippers. They are made with a wooden sole on the bottom. They aren’t sturdy either, but he won’t be picky. A quick glance at the seams tells him these were made by an amateur. Likely a cobbler making practice pieces.  

He quickly moves back to the storeroom, not quite latching the door, unsure of what kind of noise it would make. Crystal looks through the window anxiously. Freddie leaps through it and falls to the ground in a silent roll. 

Crystal opens his mouth but then closes it. Freddie nods his head back in the direction that they came. Brian is still sitting on the stump that they left him on. He grins when he sees them. 

“Any luck?” Brian asks quietly. 

“As there are fish in the river,” Freddie replies. 

“Oh, look!” Freddie holds up his prize. 

“Shoes?” 

Freddie nods, “shoes.” 

Crystal takes a pair and slips them on. Freddie can see how one side comes up higher. They look tight, too. Brian carefully takes a pair. The shoes don’t fit, which isn’t exactly surprising given that Brian is so much taller than the average person. Freddie sits down next to him. 

At least they had tried. 

He pulls the last pair on, sighing in relief when he stands, and his sores aren’t touching the dirt and whatever else is on the path. Freddie grabs one of the knapsacks and Brian takes the second, leaving Crystal to move unhindered. 

“Let’s move before they realize that they had visitors.” 

They follow the road out of town before splitting from it and walking beside it. 

“We’re going to have to move at night through the farmer’s fields and grasslands,” Crystal mumbles, “there’s no cover out here.” 

“I agree.” 

Brian shrugs, apparently content to go along with the plan. Freddie keeps their pace as brisk as they can manage between the uneven ground and their current states. 

“Why not stay on the road?” Brian asks the third time he trips over a hole hidden by the grass. 

“Because, we aren’t exactly the traveling type, and it’s far too late for any good folk to be on the road.” 

“Have we done something wrong?” 

Freddie shakes his head. 

“Is that why I have the scar on my arm? I did something?” 

Crystal stops and turns opened mouthed. Freddie shakes his head and urges the man on. 

“Freddie, please.” 

He closes his eyes. 

“Please.” 

“Not, not while we’re walking, okay?” 

Brian bites his lip, not happy, “okay.” 

Freddie lets out a long sigh. He half hoped that this wouldn’t come up. Tim’s advice to treat Brian like a stranger rattles through his head. Then again Tim’s never had to deal with a begging Brian which is something that is impossible to say no to. 

The sun slowly crests the horizon. Freddie gestures towards an area that sets below the rest of the grass. From a casual glance, they’ll be hidden. Crystal drops to the ground with a low moan. 

“Your leg?” 

“I can walk.” 

Freddie purses his lips but decides to not press him on it. Certain that if there was something amiss or something he couldn’t handle Crystal would tell him. He hasn’t kept anything secret yet, at least nothing important. Freddie rummages through their food knapsack and tosses out an apple to Brian, jerky to Crystal, and jerky to himself along with a piece of bread for all three of them. 

Brian sits cross-legged in front of him, “you promised.” 

He sighs taking a large bite out of the jerky to give himself something to do for a moment longer. 

(Brian strums the guitar. John is pressed against his leg, not quite humming. Roger is cursing loudly at the skin if his drum because it’s torn. Freddie sings some made-up song while he clips their clothes to the line. Salt from the coast is barely present in the air, enough to know where the sea is. 

“Have you been working on something new Brian?” John asks quietly. 

“It’s special,” Brian replies, changing the key he had been playing in. 

“Oh?” 

“Mm.” 

Freddie runs his thumb along the woven silk around his wrist. One of the braids has dulled from the constant stroking. Their anniversary is coming up soon. He makes eye contact with Roger, who has given up on working the skin in favor of watching Brian. His thumb is also idly stroking his braid. 

John is wearing two, holding onto Brian’s while he plays. The ends always got tangled in the strings. 

The music suddenly cuts off. Roger rises to his feet. Freddie turns towards the trees. Seconds later, scouts leap over the fallen log. John’s ears standing straight up.

“Run!” Brian yells. 

Roger grabs John, who looks as though he’s frozen to the spot. Brian rushes over to Freddie and grabs his hand. They take off in the direction of the coast. Ahead of them Roger and John have already disappeared into the trees behind their cottage. 

Freddie stumbles when Brian suddenly shoves into him. He falls into a tree, barely keeping himself upright. When he turns to see where Brian has gone he makes eye contact with terrified hazel. 

“Run!” 

His legs don’t want to move.  

Brian falls to the ground, stumbling over his own feet. Freddie is about to rush out when he sees an arrow sticking out of Brian’s back.  

“Freddie!” 

He turns in the direction he hears John’s call, then back to Brian. The scouts are surrounding him. A crossbow bolt tears through Brian’s leg in short range. Freddie tenses but a hand on his shoulder keeps him still. 

Roger is holding onto him so tightly his knuckles are white. John is shaking with tears streaming down his face. He distantly notes Roger’s lip is split. 

“Don’t,” Roger whispers. 

“We have to save him.” 

“We’ll lose – It’s… we can’t lose you too.” 

Freddie looks back at Brian who is having his arms bound behind his back. He isn’t fighting, instead looking towards the woods, begging with his eyes. Begging for them to flee. Not to save him. 

“Please. We can’t let this be for nothing,” Roger’s voice wavers. 

Freddie wants to argue but the fight suddenly drains out of him. Roger and Brian had been together their entire lives. If anyone understood what Brian would want in this situation, it would be Roger. He looks back at Brian who has turned his gaze towards the captain. The man is reading out from a piece of parchment. Likely the charge. 

Subversion of the King’s Authority. Arrested because they dared to enjoy music. 

Roger tugs at him again and this time Freddie falls with him. They keep their eyes on Brian. Until they need to look forward. He glances through the last thin area of the trees. Brian’s head is raised, and his mouth set in a scowl that would make Roger proud. When the captain brings a fist down. Freddie gasps, but Brian keeps his head high. 

Freddie has always wondered if Brian cried because Freddie wondered if he’d ever had tears again.) 

“Do you want to know your crime or what you did?” 

Brian narrows his eyes, “there’s a difference?” 

“For some people,” Crystal murmurs. 

“Yes,” Freddie reaches forward. 

Brian grips his hands. Freddie strokes the back of his hand, “you were arrested because you were playing music. They charged you with subversion.” 

They had been rebels, but those guards didn’t know that. 

“For playing music?” 

Freddie nods, “the same as me.” 

Brian glances down to the bandaged brand on his arm, “we need to change your bandage.” 

He gestures towards one of the packs. Brian grabs it and digs out some salve and a fresh roll of bandages. Freddie hisses when the bandage tugs on his skin.  

“Sorry,” Brian coos. 

The bandage falls away. Brian uses a small edge of the bandage to swipe away the dried puss. Some of the redness and swelling have gone down. He grumbles when Brian slathers the salve on and rewraps it tighter than Tim had. 

“There you go.” 

“Your turn.” 

Brian frowns. 

“We never got to clean your face.” 

Freddie swipes some of the salve onto a patch of bandage before gently dotting it across Brian’s face. Some of the dirt and blood comes off on the bandage. He flips it over and gives one more swipe. 

They really need to find water. If they’re where he thinks they are then, most of the water is now to the west or south of them save for a few scattered ponds. Brian leans into the touch. 

“Better?” 

He tosses the bandage to the side, “still handsome.” 

It makes Brian blush and Freddie smiles softly. Brian’s hair is a mess and there are dirt and blood covering his face. Except Brian has always been one of the most beautiful men that he has ever met, and for as long as he breathes Brian will always be stunning. 

“Freddie,” Brian says slowly, “what were we?” 

“Huh?” 

“When you said that I just reminded you of someone, I think you lied.” 

Freddie feels guilty. Then he blinks. 

Brian drops back, leaning against his hands and head towards the sky. Instead of an illuminating glow, the moon’s light only serves to shadow his face. 

“The further away I get from the palace, the more… muddled my head feels but things are clearer? I don’t get it. But if we were still in the palace, I wouldn’t know that you lied.” 

Brian catches his eyes, “so why did you?” 

Freddie ignores the hope blooming in his chest, “it was easier. What do you remember before the palace?” 

“Nothing. Feelings? I don’t know.” 

“Is it more than you felt at the palace?” 

“I think.” 

Freddie strokes his thumb across the bridge of Brian’s uninjured cheek. He stares deeply into the hazel eyes, but he doesn’t see any deep warmth or recognition. The hope settles as a gentle bud next to his heart. Brian reaches up to grip his hand. They twine together, their hands fit together like a puzzle piece. 

“We can figure this out when we’re safe, hm?” 

“Are we going to be safe?” 

“Let me tell you about where we’re going.” 

Brian crawls so that he’s leaning against Freddie’s side. Their hands still twisted together. Freddie settles as much as he can with no back support. He gives up and lays back, bringing Brian to lay on top of him.  

“John says it’s the most beautiful place. There’s only one way to get to it. Most of the trade ways have to go around it because of the mountains, so no kingdom has ever claimed it.” 

“How does… John, know it?” 

“When he and his family moved here, he said that they got lost and took the wrong pass, and they found it.” 

“What is it?” 

Freddie steals a glance at Brian’s excited look, “he says it’s a lake that’s the reflection of the moon. No one is around, fields to grow crops in and forests to explore. Best yet is that you can play music without no one ever hearing that isn’t meant to.” 

“Roger says it sounds like a myth. I always thought it was a fae place. But John swears he can get us there,” Freddie runs a hand down Brian’s back. 

“Where’s John now?” 

“I don’t know. Safe, I pray.” 

Brian looks away. 

“Bri?” 

“I hope he’s safe too. Roger is with him? The other one you speak about?” 

“Yes, those two are thick as thieves,” Freddie laughs at his own joke. 

Several hours he wakes up with the sun beating down on his face. Crystal tosses him something, a canteen to his great surprise. 

“What?” 

“A troupe of charlatans passed by and saw us, well saw me when I stood to stretch,” Crystal sits, “said it isn’t their way to leave people without supplies.” 

Freddie guzzles the water greedily, “how many did they give us?” 

“Two each. Said they’d restock at the next town.” 

“I’ll accept a stranger’s generosity,” Freddie wipes his mouth. 

“Why does Brian trust you?” Crystal asks, again, after he sits back down. 

Freddie rolls his eyes, unsure of why this bothers Crystal  so much, “I guess because I’ve done nothing to break that trust of his.” 

He frowns at Crystal’s expression. 

“What?”  

Crystal shrugs, “I haven’t broken his trust either.” 

“Do you expect me to say that his body knows who I am even if his mind doesn’t?” 

“Yes.” 

“I have hope, but I’m not blind to the real world.” 

Freddie nudges Brian awake, grabbing a fresh canteen. Brian blinks away, furrowing his brow before meeting Freddie’s eyes. 

“Hm?” 

“Water.” 

Brian grabs the canteen, barely opening his eyes to bring it to his lips. He takes cautious sips and sets it down after only six. Freddie dumps some of the water onto his palm and then runs it over the cut on Brian’s cheek. 

“Ow!” 

“Don’t start complaining now.” 

The clean gash isn’t as bad as he expected it to be. It’ll scar, without proper salve, but even Freddie knows that worse things can happen on this journey. They have a while yet so he doesn’t want to use what little supplies they have on something trivial. 

“I want to go to the ruins, they’re nearby.” 

“Why?” 

Freddie looks at Brian who is already slipping back under the spell of sleep, “I know I’ve been pushing us.” 

“You want to be with your family,” Crystal replies, “I understand that. I’d give anything to be with mine again.” 

It’s like he’s offering the information as an apology.

“What happened to them?” 

“They mistook us as rebels, and instead of arresting us and taking us to get cleared, they slaughtered them, and arrested me.” 

He tightens his grip on Brian. It isn’t such a far-fetched story, and it’s no wonder the rebels finally snapped. Perhaps too early if they lost their coup. 

Crystal clears his throat, “why do you want to go to the ruins?” 

“They’re the best place to rest, and if we are where I think we are, they’re only half a day away.” 

“You want to take a break?” 

“Only a few days. Let your leg heal, regain some of our strength. From there we have to go through the Ewvoch tunnels.” 

“The tunnels?” 

“There’s an echo.” 
“Why the tunnels?” 

“The only other way to get where we’re going is through the plains, and I don’t particularly fancy running into Royal forces or worst plain drakes.” 

“Those are real?” Crystal asks in a small voice. 

“Unfortunately.” 

(John has the scars on his back to prove their existence. He stumbled into Brian’s tiny triage camp just inside the rebel camp. His sister holding onto to her brother for dear life. Their mother nowhere to be seen. 

Julie had rambled on about a golden beast with amber eyes seemingly springing out of the grass and onto them. She showed them a talon as proof. John had been injured but he managed to slay the beast. 

Roger had taken Julie to where Clare and his family were staying, and Brian tended to John. He was the only patient that could probably survive his wounds and Brian was drawn to him. 

They were all drawn to John, just as John was brought to them. Celara’s blessing, John would later say. Roger would scoff, but smile.) 

“And the tunnels are better?” 

“They’re physically more demanding we have to cross the Giant’s Gouge, but there’s natural spring water in there and the mushrooms are edible.” 

Crystal grimaces, “cave mushrooms. Fantastic.” 

Brian mumbles something, “mm, stop Blondie.” 

Freddie looks away, “so. Cave mushrooms or plain drakes?” 

“I think I’ll have to take the mushrooms.” 

The ruins look as they always have. Any new dilapidation fades into the grass of the previous debris. A singular statue remains pristine in comparison to the fallen pillars. In one hand it holds a stone-carved braid and in the other, it cradles a flute to its chest. Freddie supposes the statue isn’t much of an it.  

They stand in the Last Temple of Celara. Crystal stays far away from the statue, making the familiar gesture to ward off even (two fingers straight and then a flick down). Freddie rolls his eyes until he sees Brian mimicking the movement. 

“It’s a statue, not a portal to one of the hells.” 

“And Alvors didn’t need to fear his wife,” Crystal replies. 

Freddie shrugs, “depends on what else they bother telling you in the story. Alvors only lost an eye. Celara lost her love and daughter, all because she dared follow her voice.” 

Crystal frowns, “that’s the way the North tells it. Celara is the victim there.” 

Brian looks between them and then back up to the statue. 

He thinks about how mortified John had been when they told him the story of the split. Then again he felt completely scandalized when John told him how the North views it. Roger had thought about it in complex terms of society before loudly proclaiming that the South’s is wrong. Brian hadn’t been surprised. His mother had been one of the few Northerners of her age to make it through the Winter Famine and then came down to settle with Brian’s father in an arranged marriage. 

Brian steps towards the statue, drawing his eyes over the planes of the statue. The way the fabric clings to her skin, forever damp by an artist’s hands. This had always been his favorite depiction of her, Freddie thinks, a woman who wanted to love and make music and got drawn into something over her head. 

A singular room remains, a stone slab falling over pillars shelters it from the weather mostly. There is a singular stone bed from when the priestesses stayed in the temple. Freddie guides them over to it. The three of them are going to make the space incredibly warm, but if Freddie remembers correctly the winds are particularly bad on the plains. 

Brian has to crawl to enter the space, but it is just as Freddie remembers it being. Cramped with decaying carpet on the ground. He stows their bags on the ledge close to the bottom of the floor. 

“Cozy,” Crystal murmurs. 

“It’ll be a good space,” Freddie shrugs. 

“We’re still going to stay here for some time?” 

“No one else comes to these ruins. We can finally heal without the worry of someone stumbling across us.” 

“Fair enough.” 

Freddie lets out a long breath. They finally have enough food to support two meals a day for a week and a place they can defend. His lower back twinges as he sits on the bed. Brian spins in the center of the space, taking in all of the details. There are some paintings remaining. The colors have since faded but enough details remain that Freddie can figure out which story it tells. 

The First Instrument. 

Brian strokes his fingers down in reverence. 

“A story?” He asks. 

“Yes,” Freddie replies, “a very pleasant one. I’ll let John tell it, his home country tells it is the most beautiful way I’ve heard it.” 

“Is he from the North?” 

Freddie turns towards Crystal, “he is.” 
“That explains a lot.” 

“What does it explain?” 

Crystal nods his head towards Brian. Once more Freddie is left out on part of Brian’s life. He once knew ever facet of Brian’s past, and he could guess what happened to him in that cell, but the simple fact is Crystal knows and doesn’t want to help him beyond the occasional hint.  

Should he be able to learn this or should he just let it become an unanswered mystery? Does he want to know the horror? 

“Who’s temple is this?” Brian frowns. 

“Celara’s,” Freddie replies, “her last stronghold from the Soundless Age.” 

Brian mouths the words before speaking them, “soundless age?” 

“The first purge of music. No one had written anything that the king liked and so he turned his wrath onto Celara.” 

“A prophet claimed that Alvors was punishing us with war because we still let Celara into our hearts,” Crystal adds, “so they say that the kingdom fell into a hush, afraid that any noise will bring the raiders to their village.” 

What is must have been like, to not be able to greet your neighbor or barter for goods in whispers? Even now, people still uphold the laws of the Soundless Age, speaking only a few words a day. Their most recent queen was a devout follower of said rules. It had gotten them into many disagreements between foreign powers and even her own fiefdoms.  

“Well, it’s late morning. I think we should rest now.” 

As usual, Crystal falls asleep within seconds. Did he always have that talent or did he learn that in prison? 

Freddie hadn’t expected to get such a well-rested feeling from sleeping on the bed considering it’s made from stone. He wakes up once during midday when Brian wakes him up by wrapping around his middle.  

The next time he wakes up, the barest hint of starlight filters through the cracks in their shelter. It’s brighter than it should be, and the light isn’t coming from the sky, but almost from the same level as their entryway. Freddie frowns, Brian isn’t next to him or on the floor either. Crystal is snoring away on the second “bed.” 

He peaks through the door and finds that the light is coming from the statue. Blinking his eyes doesn’t clear the light, and he can’t look at it because the brightness makes his eyes water. 

“Your life is in my hands, Brian. This is the fate you asked for.” 

The voice is indescribable. It echoes from outside his body and ricochets out from his bones. It sounds like the rivers and the strings of a guitar. It just Is. 

“You are a chosen son. But even I cannot bend the laws.” 

Freddie realizes that the voice must be speaking to Brian. Why? He attempts to wander towards the light, but he finds himself blocked by a force of some kind. A haze falls over his eyes and he feels himself walking back to his bed and falling asleep. 

Brian knees him as he climbs over Freddie to press between him and the wall of their shelter. 

“Sorry,” Brian mumbles. 

Freddie hums and falls back asleep. 

“You didn’t tell me they were alive!” 

Freddie pulls his arms over his head. The mushrooms are small, but they do have sentience and they jump on you and it stings. He is certain that they all have teeth but he sure as hells not going to stop and examine one. Brian swats at one, and the frowns when it smacks against the wall. 

A dagger or sword would have been nice, but Brian had left there’s by the stump the night they stole from the town and Crystal’s sword is long gone. It’s another set of injuries they’ll have to treat, but thankfully they aren’t life-threatening. 

“I can’t believe you didn’t tell me they were alive.” 

“I forgot!” 

“About attacking mushrooms?” 

Okay. That’s fair, Freddie thinks. 

“Bri, don’t cry, they’re fine. They just grow on the wall again.” 

He doesn’t actually know, but he can’t have Brian walking out of here mauled to near death by fungus just because he didn’t want to kill it. The next mushroom he smacks, Brian doesn’t look as guilty. Freddie rolls his eyes, now he feels guilty about smacking them into the wall.  

Crystal doesn’t seem guilty as he bats away the three that had started gnawing on his arm? (it’s dark he can’t really tell). 

“Next time I’ll ask.” 

“It was your mistake for not checking that there wasn’t anything vicious.” 

“Do not blame this on me,” Crystal hisses. 

“Oh, there it is!” 

Freddie points out to a path of luminous moss. The story goes that Celara took pity on the traveler’s that kept meeting their untimely end in the caves, and lit up the exit. Roger is convinced that moss like this just does that. It seems odd that it would. Trees should glow too if that was the case. He can’t tell the difference between the two, well one glows, but otherwise, they both look spongey and green. 

“It’s like the stars,” Brian whispers. 

“I suppose it is,” Freddie tilts his head. 

Brian stops to touch it. Some of the glow appears on his fingers, “it’s like fixed stars. The one that always points north.” 

Freddie runs into Crystal as he turns his head sharply. Brian hadn’t known the stars over two weeks ago. He certainly hasn’t given and lessons on their stories. 

“I hope it isn’t poisonous,” Brian swipes his fingers on his tunic. 

The glow streaks down it. Much fainter than on the wall. 

“Just follow the glowing moss?” Crystal asks, “I wonder why the mushrooms don’t like it.” 

They hadn’t been attacked since taking the glowing tunnel, “probably the light.” 

Would mushrooms have a preference? Freddie frowns. He prefers the sun so maybe they like the dark better. They can’t talk so he discards the thought, some mushrooms do grow in the forest though. 

Weird. 

“We go right up ahead,” Freddie says, “the left tunnel glows but it dies out about halfway, which is two hours. Then there are bats.” 

“Bats?” Brian asks. 

“Ugly birds. Bad omens.” 

“I see.” 

“Do you want to take lead, since you know this place?” 

“I can. Bri, grab my hand.” 
He laces their fingers together and steps around Crystal. This is his preferred order, anyway. 

(“I feel like I’m walking into one of the hells,” Roger murmurs. 

“It’s not that bad,” John says. 

He had scraped some of the moss off onto his walking stick and holds it out like a torch as they explore some of the darker tunnels. 

“It’s like walking through the stars,” Brian mumbles. 

Freddie is holding onto Brian’s belt, not entirely convinced he wouldn’t start a journal on the habits of glowing moss. Considering how quiet he has been, they might not notice for some time that he stopped. 

“Of course, you’d think it’s romantic,” Roger snaps, “maybe a witch cursed this place. It’s blue.” 

“Why is everything you don’t like a curse?” Freddie snickers, “Brian’s hair gets in your mouth, a curse. You have to walk, a curse. You have a tiny blemish. Curse.” 

Roger tosses a rock at him. It misses Freddie by a large margin and skitters further away. John waves the sticks between them. 

“We don’t know what’s in here, so let’s not wake it up.” 

Roger sticks his tongue out at Freddie. Freddie mimics the face. Brian walks between them and wraps an arm around John’s shoulders. Then John swipes his fingers through the moss, before swiping it across the bridge of Brian’s nose. 

“Let’s just let them stumble around in the dark for a while, my star.” 

“Hey!” 

Brian turns around, “John and I will be enjoying not being eaten by things that you two wake up over here.” 

Freddie smiles at the sight that John and Brian make, barely illuminated by the moss. Even Roger is stunning, the moss making his bright eyes shine. 

“That’s if they can get past how badly Roger smells!” 
“What are you, ten?” 

“Then you’d be five.” 

“That doesn’t actually disprove my point, and I’d be six!”) 

Brian trails his fingers on the moss, the glow sticking to them. Freddie smiles and swipes his fingers through it too, he turns quickly and smears it down the uninjured side of Brian’s face. He blinks in surprise and gingerly touches it. 

“I –“ Brian frowns. 

“Yes?” 

“Nothing,” Brian looks away, “just. I’ve been here before.” 

Freddie stops and drops Brian’s hand, “what do you mean?” 

“I think. It feels like a dream. Like wading through a fog,” Brian narrows his eyes, “but it’s like grasping it. The harder I try, the more it slips away.” 

Tim had said that Brian might remember something. Freddie swallows, “do you remember anything else?” 

“A voice. It’s speaking, but I don’t know what it’s saying. I couldn’t identify it in a crowd.” 

“Well,” Freddie blinks quickly, “maybe more will come to you.” 

Brian has no idea about John or Roger. Freddie needs to remind himself of that. He prays that Brian gets more wisps of memories before they reach the meetup point. Maybe he hadn’t imagined what happened at the ruins? Then he shakes his head. Gods don’t interfere with mortal men, much less men who aren’t heroes of the people. 

“Are we going to stare at each other, or keep moving?” 

Freddie waves his hand at Crystal, “we’re going. Untwist your trousers.” 

He grabs Brian’s hand again before setting out at a fast pace. It leaves Crystal stumbling to catch up, and he feels guilty about his pettiness for a moment. Then again, Crystal had ruined a moment. If he pushed Brian, then maybe there would have been something that pushed through the fog. 

It takes them several more hours and more than one wrong turn to reach the end of the cave system. Freddie collapses at the mouth of the cave. Brian stumbles over him. 

“Freddie?” 

“Sorry,” he pants. 

He can’t imagine the walk was any better for Crystal. The uneven ground and the spots were they had to crouch weren’t easy on his weakened body, and Crystal is still fighting with his injury. 

“Let’s rest here for the night.” 

Crystal drops next to him, “seconded.” 

Brian looks out of the cave and towards the darkening sky. It’ll be dark tonight, with the moon nearly gone. Freddie figures Brian will love that. There’s something fascinating about Brian learning to love something. For as long as he had known Brian, he hoarded his knowledge like a dragon and never actually sat and observed. 

“Brian?” 

“Yes?” Brian turns around. 

Freddie is left breathless for a moment by the sheer beauty of the scene in front of him. Orange light bleeds around Brian, a firey light behind him. A smile plays on his lips, small and toothy like he knows a secret that Freddie doesn’t. For a moment he can forget the strain of the past weeks. 

Perhaps he needs to consider why he lets himself get so distracted with pushing this Brian back into the box he had been. For everything Brian’s forgotten, he’s also forgotten the bad. This Brian drenched in the color of fires, doesn’t remember the heat of the rebel camp being burned to the ground. 

Brian fell in love with them once, and they haven’t changed. Freddie knows they’ll fall in love again. He just can’t let go of his Brian. He sees him in this Brian. 

“Freddie?” 

“Sorry,” Freddie clears his throat, “would you like to hear a song?” 

“A song?” 

Crystal frowns, “and bring Alvors’ wrath on us? No thanks.” 

“Plug your ears then.” 

Brian shuffles before kneeling in front of him. Freddie hums, warming up his voice. He knows what he wants to sing, but he wants to make sure his voice will do it justice. This is probably the first song that Brian will have heard. This Brian, at least. 

Brian grabs both of his hands and brings them into the space between them. Freddie smiles and then starts humming the melody. After a few seconds, making sure that Brian’s attention is on him and Crystal isn’t going to say anything else, he starts to sing. Low and slow, Brian’s eyes widen. Freddie grows bolder and Brian blinks before closing his eyes. 

It takes him only a moment longer to get into the song himself. He changes the original words to their verses. The ones they whispered to each other on the banks of a river on a clear night. There they had each taken a strip of silk from their braids and wove them together. 

A promise of eternity on their lips. 

He wonders what Roger did with his, maybe he wears it high on his arm like he did Brian’s. Freddie sings the last few words before looking up to Brian. 

Tears streak down his face. He laughs, a little shocked, “sorry. I don’t know why. Your voice. I’ve never heard anything like that.” 

Freddie smiles and runs his thumbs through the tracks. His heart was always the easiest to make cry, “I’ll take it as a compliment.” 

“Can you? Again?” 

“Same song?” 

“There are more?” Brian smiles widely. 

“More than you can ever know,” Freddie whispers, “and those you’ll write yourself.” 

He offers Brian his hand again, and he takes it. Freddie closes his eyes in search of that perfect song. He thinks about one of the odes to Celara Brian had always loved. Then he decides on another one of their own songs. 

Brian catches on to the melody quickly, even if his humming ends up off-key and out of time more than once. Freddie can almost imagine that they’re back home. 

He needs to stop doing that. It’s the past. He promised himself he would not live in the past. A tiny stone in the woods with a single pendant under it was his witness. 

Freddie blinks when Brian leans against his chest. His eyes are closed and he’s still humming along. He stops saying the words and instead joins Brian in his little humming world. Sleepy hazel eyes flick up to his. 

“That’s incredible.” 

“You can sing, too.” 

“Can I?” 

“Anyone can.” 

Crystal snorts, “I don’t know about that.” 

“Well, anyone can they just may not sound beautifully.” 

“You do,” Crystal nods, “it sounds like it comes from your heart. Like all the stories say.” 

“So, you do know them?” 

“We all do, but we pretend not to.” 

“Is that so?” 

Crystal gives Brian a long glance, “we do. Love like that, love you feel deep enough that you can only attempt to capture it in song, doesn’t exist.” 

Freddie runs his hand through Brian’s hair. It’s as long as it was when he met him. It’s matted with sweat, none of them have had a proper was in some time, but the curls still twist together. 

“But it does,” Crystal says after a long moment, “it’s just easier to pretend it doesn’t. Love like that, it can hurt.” 

He has proof of how much it can hurt in his arms. Except all the pain is worth it. Freddie would rather be strung and quartered every day for the rest of his life than spend a day not knowing what True Love feels like. 

Crystal doesn’t move his eyes from Brian’s face, “I think feeling love like that… I don’t know if I’d say it’s worth it but it is beautiful.” 

“It is,” Freddie hums. 

Brian stirs a little at his gaze, “huh?” 

“Nothing, my heart.” 

Freddie has a vague idea about how to get to their meetup spot. Not that they ever stated it was there in case they split up (their youth made them indestructible but their foolishness exposed by a heavy hand) but that’s where they had determined they’d spend the winter before climbing over the Divide. John had said that it took him and his family almost five months to get through it. Considering they were going to be far more encumbered, and likely have to wander through the mountains to even find the correct path, they had decided to break up their travel. 

Their first part would be the long land journey during the summer. There would be enough places to shelter and food as well. Once the winter melts begin, they’d begin their climb to give them the optimal chances. The passes were impossible to climb during winter. Not to mention avalanches were random and common. 

It was the best place that Freddie could think to meet up with them. He doesn’t mention to Brian or Crystal that this is the only place he has in mind. Freddie knows that he can’t make that climb without John or Roger. 

(“We’re still going to The Place, right?” John asks. 

Freddie smiles sadly. John is wrapped in a thick horse blanket. The braid is being worried at by his thumbs when it isn’t being tied and untied around his wrist. The fidgeting is annoying Roger, who keeps mumbling about being careful. 

The braid is all they have left of Brian. 

“Of course,” Roger snaps. 

He looks up in surprise. 

“Why wouldn’t we?” Roger stands, “that was our dream. Together there. Brian would want us to make it there!” 

“It was our dream,” John mumbles, “would it feel right without him?” 

Freddie has never once seen Roger as broken as he looked in that moment. Face twisted in a pained attempt to remain neutral, shoulders pulled together and eyes shadowed. He wants to draw Roger into his arms, but any touch is likely unwelcomed. 

“Nothing is ever going to feel right again,” Roger says, his voice is raspy, “but we can’t just stay in the past. We can’t live our lives for a ghost.” 

John sniffles, “I want to go there.” 

“We can bury, that,” Freddie nods towards the braid, “there. Plant a cypress over it.” 

“It won’t be the same,” John shakes his head. 

Roger turns away from the fire, “that’s all we have.”) 

How many more hits can Roger take before he’s knocked down permanently? Freddie glances over to where Brian is running his hands along the top of the wheatgrass. A peaceful smile on his face. They’re on the edge of farmland, and to the north of them looms the Divide. The peaks a jagged reminder of what this land had once been. 

Is seeing Brian like this going to be the final hit? Freddie shakes his head. Roger will probably adjust to this the easiest. It’s John that he is going to have to worry about. Brian had been John’s first friend in this land, the only one within the rebels to have any idea what the Northern language meant. 

John also fought with Brian the most, but Freddie has no doubt they loved each other as deeply as they loved Roger and himself. 

Brian laughs as the tips tickle his sensitive palms. Crystal smiles, something soft. Freddie turns back quickly. Oh.  

He sneaks a look again, and the face remains the same. Gentle and amused and a mirror of how Freddie knows he must look when he sees Brian. Brian catches his eyes and tilts his head. 

Freddie shakes his head. The look is gone from Crystal’s face and he thinks that maybe he imagined it. He must’ve. There’s no way anyone could feel so deeply without having to scream it to the trees as witnesses. 

“How far is it to this place?” 

“If all goes well? Four days.” 

Crystal nods, “so how long will it actually be?” 

He laughs, “ye of little faith.” 

“You have been on the same journey as me, right?” 

Freddie waves his hand, “nonsense.” 

Brian snorts, “I think I agree with Crystal on this.” 

Freddie grips his heart, “I cannot believe – hmph. I was going to sing a traveling song.” 

“Thank you, Brian.” 

He turns his nose up and struts away in wounded dignity. Only a few minutes later, he feels long fingers grip his bicep. He glances at Brian, who looks chagrined. Nervously glancing towards Crystal and incredibly tense. 

“Are you angry?” 

Freddie blinks and opens his mouth, but Brian flinches away. He looks surprised at his own reaction. It makes Freddie take a step back to give him space. Although the information gets slotted into that part of his mind where he puts the things he Does Not Want To Think About. 

“No, of course not, my heart,” Freddie says softly. 

“I thought you were,” Brian shrinks into himself. 

“It was teasing, Brian. I promise I’m not angry. Even if I was, I would never turn it towards you.” 

Brian stares into the distance as though he’s figured out a particularly difficult riddle, “even if I were the cause of it?” 

“If you ever did make me angry, you have my word that I’d never hurt you. My words may get mean, I may yell, but I won’t do anything.” 

It doesn’t relax Brian like he thought it would. Freddie knows that denying he wouldn’t shout at Brian when he is angry would just be a lie. There are too many years of history where the yelling became a sport. He will just need to keep the reaction in mind for the future. 

Truthfully, he doubts he could keep his anger at Brian knowing what he does about him now. 

“Oh okay.” 

Brian backs away towards Crystal. Freddie ignores the feeling that he had just destroyed something. It’ll be fine when Brian calms down he’s sure. 

They stop for lunch shortly after that. Freddie tears away at a thin piece of jerky. The single apple they have is nearly spoiled by now, between the rough travel and length that it has been off the tree. 

Brian sits on top of a hill not too far away. His hair bounces in the wind. Freddie bites his lip. 

“He’ll be fine,” Crystal says. 

Freddie jumps and drops his jerky in the dirt. He really should not let it go to waste, but he also doesn’t like the thought of eating something covered in dirt. 

“Think about it from where he’s coming from? You not responding to him angering you, that didn’t happen. It usually meant something worse was coming.” 

Freddie swallows, very glad that he had left his food on the ground. 

“When he sees you meant it, he’ll be back to hanging off you like a vine on a tree.” 

“Poetic,” Freddie replies dryly. 

“What do you think I worked with a blacksmith and not writing rebel sermons?” Crystal says. 

“You aren’t sympathetic to them.” 

“No, another reason that I worked for a blacksmith.” 

Freddie glances at Brian, “why not? Why not fight for the cause, against the monarchy that’s dragged us into war after war. Arrests us for singing?” 

“You thought to fight a war was the best way to prove your group wanted no more war?” 

He shrugs, “sometimes it’s the only way to get people to listen.” 

“And innocents killed.” 

Freddie is about to respond when Brian stands up from the hill. 

“Freddie! Crystal!” 

The two glance at each other before scrambling up the hill. They’re just by the foothills. Most of the surrounding area is flat unless it’s a sheer cliff. Ahead, perhaps a day’s walk is a young forest. If Freddie remembers correctly, and he’s certain he does, that copse is the Phoenix Grove. The forest burns down every century, and a new one replaces it, these pines are young enough still they don’t impede any of their views. 

Further beyond them is a green-tinted lake, runoff water and magic from the mountains. 

“It’s stunning,” Brian says. 

Crystal’s eyes dart across the land, “incredible. Places like this are real?” 

They’re exactly where he thought they were. Freddie lets out a soft laugh of relief. He can’t believe it. He squints his eyes, and yes! Just beyond, there’s the column! The column. 

“There! That’s where we’ll be wintering!” 

Crystal places his hand over his eyes, “there?” 

“It has an underground spot,” Freddie says, “we think it was meant to be used as a shelter for the priestesses at the temple.” 

“Oh, well. Underground in winter, that works out.” 

“Squirrels,” Freddie says, “bears. Insects. Hydras.” 

“Have you seen a hydra as well?” 

“They like the ocean. You have to be careful on the beach during winter. They don’t like being woken up.” 

Crystal stares at him. 

“Experience of a friend.” 

(He doesn’t mention that friend had been Brian, who had then avoided being eaten because he apologized. Who knew hydra understood the queen’s tongue? Roger had nearly pissed himself laughing when they told the story later. John meanwhile had lectured Brian on the importance of “Running, and not apologizing to the thing that is going to eat you.”  

The one lesson Brian hadn’t quite let sink in. Although hermit crabs pose much less of a risk, they still hurt and pulling them off fingers is painful for everyone involved.) 

“Looks like the way is clear, and the forest shouldn’t have anything nasty in it,” Crystal stares at Freddie, “right?” 

He bites his cheek in thought, “nothing unusual. Dire wolves. Bears. Boars.” 

“Dire wolves?” 

“They’re just a little larger, and they only live in groups of three,” Brian says. 

Freddie turns towards him, mouth open wide. 

“Some of the nobles like talking about their hunting trips,” Brian shrugs, “I didn’t like hearing those conversations much.” 

“I imagine you didn’t,” Freddie whispers. 

Crystal looks away, “right. Are they going to attack us?” 

“Not usually, so long as we don’t get to close to their pups or dinner.” 

It nearly happens. Freddie can feel the glare from Crystal as he tugs Brian away from a tiny wolf pup crying on the hunting path. His heart hurts for the thing too, but since it doesn’t look injured it must be lost. Which means the mother must not be that far away and she must be looking for the pup. 

He hears a loud huff and flicks his eyes over to see said mother trotting towards them. Her green eyes lock onto his and her snout pulls back enough that he can see fangs the size of his hand. Brian stands in front of him. 

“What are you – Brian get behind me.” 

The wolf changes direction towards them. 

“Sorry,” Brian says, holding out his hand palm up, “we didn’t mean to startle your pup. He’s okay. He just wants you.” 

Freddie sniffs. The air has a familiar sharp tinge to it. He watches the wolf raise her head, snuffling. She snorts and flicks her tail but instead jumps down the tiny ledge to where her pup is bouncing in excitement. 

Brian stays still when she turns around to jump back up the ledge. Their eyes meet again, and then she’s charging off further into the forest. 

All three of them let out a long sigh of relief. 

“Are you mad? Brian! She would have no problem snapping your back. With one paw even.” 

“No, I knew – if I spoke to her, she would understand.” 

“It’s a wolf,” Crystal says, his voice is pitchy, “it doesn’t understand humanspeech.” 

“Of course not, but she got the message,” Brian shrugs. 

Freddie grabs Brian’s face between his hands. Hazel eyes are flicking everywhere before settling on his eyes. There’s still no recognition in them, but they aren’t as they were. He had seen them when Brian was nothing more than a slave at the palace. This Brian. He knows things that his Brian would. But he doesn’t know it. 

“Freddie?” 

“Nothing, good call. Next time? Don’t scare me half to death. You promised after the ravine!” 

Brian tilts into the slight pressure of his hands, “I’m sorry, Freddie.” 

This time, Freddie thinks. He’s sorry for this time but he’ll do it again. He smiles, slightly exhausted. 

“Well, let’s not push our luck, my heart?” 

“Agreed.” 

He jumps at Crystal’s voice. He forgot that the other man was there. Freddie grimaces in guilt. 

“Well, only a few more days, and then we can really get to know each other.” 

He wiggles his eyebrows but Crystal just steps past him and down the ledge back onto the main path. Brian looks between them, confused. 

“I thought we already knew each other?” 

“We do, I’m teasing.” 

Brian shrugs, “as you say.” 

Freddie jumps off the ledge, groaning at the landing jolts his legs. It hurts for a second, but then he’s reaching up to stop Brian from stumbling down the ledge. He laughs as Brian still manages to trip on flat ground. 

“Careful.” 

“I’m good.” 
“Positive?” 

They don’t release each other’s hands as they wander towards Crystal who had put a decent distance between them. Freddie strokes the skin of Brian’s hand with his thumb. He notes the changes as he swings it between them wildly. Brian’s calluses are softer, but still present. His hands are bonier but still manage to settle in Freddie’s grasp comfortably.  

For a moment he closes his eyes. The warmth of the sun filter between the leaves, the shade is a touch too cool but he can feel the breeze brush against his face. It smells like it does during the Light Festival, the hint of pine and the scent of drying leaves. All that’s missing is the dried oranges left on a pouch on the window. 

“What are you thinking about?” 

Freddie opens his eyes. Brian is staring at him with a fond expression. 

“Winter. The Light Festival, you know, the oranges?” 

“Oh yes! We were given a pouch each! They were very sweet.” 

Right. Brian hadn’t been with them for the Light Festival this year. 

“You must think of it as a happy time, too.” 

“Very,” Freddie sighs. 

He knows that he swore to himself to not put too much onto this Brian but he can’t help it. Freddie misses Roger and John, and he just needs that connection with one of his lovers. 

“I remember one year, I think it was the year after John – yes, John had only been with us for a few months. I couldn’t find the money for a single pouch, much less three.” 

“So the morning of, Roger and – well, with help Roger created this sweetened bread. He baked it far too long and added the sugar at the end, so it was very sticky. He meant to make a sweet roll.” 

“And he had used the sugar meant to last us the rest of winter in his mulled wine, which was sweetened water with fruit in it.” 

Freddie smiles as he remembers Roger blushing brightly as he displayed his gifts. Their love still is unspoken between them and tucked underneath holey blankets and lingering touches, but John had eaten the bread with nothing but a fond look in his eyes. Brian proclaimed that he enjoyed the wine because it wasn’t too strong. 

“I wanted to kiss him, but we hadn’t gotten there yet. So I made him promise that he’d keep making mulled wine and sweet bread every festival.” 

“He got quite good at both,” Brian whispers. 

Freddie turns to look at Brian, but it seems like he wasn’t reacting to his own words. Just smiling. 

“That sounds lovely. In the palace, they would just call you by your name. Higher ranks went first. But a lot of the older servants, they kept the pouches and when they had free time, they added it to a blanket.” 

Brian clears his throat, “I gave mine to a woman, I can’t quite recall her name, she wasn’t with us much longer during the winter, but she had over thirty pouches.” 

“What did they do with her blanket?” 

“Her daughter took it and used it.” 

Freddie looks away. Brian has no idea, instead, he smiles, “why’d you give her yours?” 

“I had a feeling I wouldn’t stay long enough to make a blanket.” 

Crystal steps back, “they gave us two meals on the festival day. It was the broth from the left-over bones from the royal’s meal, but they prepared it well.” 

“Oh, I remember that!” Brian laughs, “I burned my hand giving the broth to someone because they snatched it from me.” 

“Then you gave them an orange slice,” Crystal rolls his eyes. 

“After they burned your hand?” 

“It was only a little burn! It didn’t even scar!” 

Brian waves his hand around as if to prove his point. Freddie feels like he wants to cry. 

They walk for a few more hours, Freddie successfully pushes down the feelings until they find a well-sheltered area. The sky has clouded over, and the air cooling enough that Freddie knows the storm is going to be a particularly bad one. Lightning and thunder. 

“Goodnight, Crystal. Are you sure you don’t want to sleep in Brian and I’s tree?” 

“Looks crowded.” 

With Brian’s limbs, space will be tight. Freddie is glad that they found part of the old forest, where the fallen trees have hollowed out. It should keep the dampness away for the most part. Their dwindling supplies are stowed next to Crystal. 

“Sleep well, Freddie. Brian.” 

Freddie slips further into the tree. Crossing his arms in front of him. Brian’s limbs are pulled as tight as they can go. There isn’t enough space to make cuddling comfortable, and neither of them can take up less space. 

“You said us, earlier.” 

“What?” 

“When you were talking about the Light Festival, you said John had only been with us for a few months.” 

Freddie nods. 

“But when we were at Tim’s you said I reminded you of someone. Am I that someone?” 

“Brian.” 

“No, tell me. Am I Someone?” 

“Of course you are, my heart.” 

“You call me that, too!” 

Brian looks seconds away from crying, “why don’t you want to tell me who I am?” 

“Because –“ Freddie pauses. 

He hadn’t thought about what he would say if Brian demanded answers. 

“Freddie, please,” Brian’s voice breaks, “the very first thing I can remember. That is solid. That feels real. That I know happened. Is waking up and the chief steward telling me that I have a cell to clean today.” 

Freddie glances away from Brian’s eyes which are becoming glossy with unshed tears. He studies the tiny spot of moss and watches the first few drops of rain slip from the leaf of a wildflower. Brian’s breathing is ragged. 

“He treated me as if I had worked there for twenty years, but that’s the first day of my life! I can’t remember a parent or a sibling. Is that all my life has been?” 

“It isn’t,” Freddie cuts him off. 

“It isn’t. It wasn’t the first day of your life. You were – are – loved, by so many people. Brian.” 

“Then why can’t I remember? Why can’t I know what it is to be loved?” 

It takes everything in Freddie’s willpower to stop himself from kissing Brian. He wants to pull his eyes away from him, look through the now steady rain. Lightning strikes, and he hears the quiet roar of thunder. Tears fall steadily, hazel brightens into amber. Brian’s lips are parted in a silent plea. 

(“Alvors' mercy!” He slips on a loose stone. 

Freddie falls to the ground. His stolen goods scattering around him, and the knife he had drawn cuts into his palm. He hisses and leaves the food for the rats. There is someone yelling further down the street. The puddle soaks his knees faster than the pelting rain on his back. 

At the end of the alleyway, he slips again. The hunger making him clumsy. He pushes up, but he can’t seem to get his footing. Someone grabs his arm, and he lashes out with the palm of his hand. The weak strike is caught by a strong hand. 

“Easy mate.” 

The voice is soft with raspiness, “we’re trying to help.” 

“Don’t fight us,” another one says. 

He feels like he’s sliding into a hot spring. The two voices melt together and spark something deep inside of him. Freddie turns his head, and the shoves away. 

Two bright blue eyes stare at him – like the curse magic – he stumbles backward. The second pair of hands wrap around his arms, barely keeping him upright. 

“Easy,” the Tall One says. 

“Helping you is the least we can do for getting the guards off our backs,” Blue Eyes smirks. 

“Oh, well you’re very welcome.” 

“I hear something! This way.” 

“Well, that’s our cue,” the Tall One says, “with us?” 

“For now.” 

Freddie doesn’t know where they end up. He couldn’t point it out on a map, but there’s a tiny fishing shack. There are holes in the roof, but the ground is mostly dry. Blue Eyes scrambles onto the bed, grimacing at his wet clothes. 

“Now we’ll have to move, Bri.” 

“There are worst fates,” Bri turns and smiles at Freddie. 

It’s strange. Freddie feels calm around this man, the way his hazel eyes light up to the amber gems of crowns. 

“My parents died. A week ago. I don’t have any money. I lost my apprenticeship with the court artist.” 

Bri sniffles, mouth parted, and the water dripping from his hair makes it look as though he’s already crying. 

Rog is looking at him with a wary expression, “you’re like us then. Dead parents, dropped from any promise of a future.” 

“I have a future, just not the one I thought,” Freddie replies automatically. 

“We’re making our own,” Bri smiles sadly. 

Rog and Bri share a long look. They nod. Bri offers his hand. 

“Want to be a part of it?”) 

The hair is shorter and there’s a scab on his cheek that will scar. They’re both older, their teenage looks melting like the snow in the mountains. The snow that melts each year, and when it comes back you think “oh, snow” not “oh, the new snow.” You don’t compare it to the old snow. It just Is. 

Freddie reaches out and runs a finger down the side of Brian’s face. He wipes the tears away. More fall in their place. 

“Who am I?” 

“You’re Brian,” he says softly, “and there are no words to describe you.” 

“Try!” 

“You’re my heart. You’re John’s star. Roger’s treasure.” 

Brian narrows his eyes, “that doesn’t… tell me anything.” 

Freddie laughs, and this time he does let the tears fall. He’s exhausted and he misses the way Brian could calm him down with a hand cupping the back of his head and drawing him into his chest. Where his heart song would be playing. 

“A verse,” Freddie mumbles. 

When Brian doesn’t say anything, Freddie catches his eyes again, “and we’re all a song.” 

Brian tilts his head, “I want to remember. What it is like to be part of a song.” 

“Believe me,” Freddie says quiet enough that he’s sure Brian won’t hear, “I want you to remember.” 

They’re greeted by one the Pillars of Alvors upon exiting the forest. Brian shies away from it, he had been strangely quiet since their night in the forest, and Freddie wishes he knew what he had said that would push Brian away. Crystal doesn’t seem unhappy with the proximity of Brian. 

“Well, maybe we should take that as a warning,” Crystal looks up the pillar. 

It is old. The marble has dulled with the years and the etchings have been stripped away to only a ribbon in the stone. On the top a condor sits, wings spread in a permanent watch. Freddie shudders. The Pillar always gave him bad vibes. 

“Or a sign we’re going the right way.” 

Brian stares up at the bird, “are you sure?” 

“We’ll be at the lake by nightfall.” 

The give the Pillar a wide berth after that. Freddie pushes them faster than he’s been daring since resting at the Last Temple. His heart his pulling him towards the lake. He tries to remind himself that Roger and John may not even be there. 

When Crystal leans against an old road maker, he knows he had been going to fast. He leans against the second marker while Crystal stretches out his leg. Brian shuffles over to him, keeping a careful eye on Crystal. 

“What are John and Roger like?” 

Freddie glances at Brian, there’s only curiosity in his face. Then he smiles wryly. What words could he possibly use to describe their other pair? Nothing in this world quite captures Roger’s quick wit and he can’t think of a single comparison to John’s humor. 

“They’re wonderful,” Freddie says. 

Brian nods, waiting for more. 

“Rog is… well Roger is very clever, but you won’t know that until he’s beaten you at cards and stolen your money, “ Freddie laughs, “and John always has these magnificent ideas about machines that he can build to help people.” 

Freddie can’t find the words for the life of him. The images are so easy to bring up, Roger and Brian helping John learn how to read Southern books. Brian and John working on some fantastic machine that’s going to break the first time they use it. John and Roger sitting with their heads together flipping through different theories as fast as they can change words. 

They’re memories that have clung to his heart, and while he can recall them he can’t bring them into existence. 

“You must love them very much.” 

Freddie shakes his head to clear it, “what?” 

“Roger and John. You must love them. Your face looks in love. Like it did when you sang.” 

“I do. I’d trade the world for them until they made me give it back.” 

Brian laughs. Freddie sighs, it seems like Brian is coming out of whatever mood he’s found himself in. Crystal groans as he stretches out his leg. 

“Ready to move?” 

“Not quite, but we probably should get going.” 

“We can wait for you,” Freddie shrugs, “we’ll still get there soon.” 

“I don’t think camping out on a road, no matter how abandoned is in our best interests,” Crystal stands, “let’s go.” 

Briand sends him a concerned look, but Freddie waves it away, “if you’re certain.” 

They’ll find out if Crystal can handle it soon enough. There’s no use in arguing with a stubborn man. Brian does hang back with Crystal, Freddie catches snatches of conversations. He tries to not worry that Crystal is somehow convincing Brian of something like staying with him when they break off. Freddie hopes Crystal wouldn’t, but he doesn’t know enough about him to trust that he wouldn’t. 

He squeezes his nails into his palm. There’s no reason for him to think the worst in a man who’s only goal is to live up to a promise he made a dying man. Freddie carefully ignores that said dying man and Crystal are currently having a conversation. 

He should be happy that Brian is being more social. Not just clinging to his hand, as nice as it had been, it wasn’t Brian. 

The sky fades to blue just as they approach the tip of the lake. Freddie can just make out the orange of fire. His heart twists painfully. 

“Wait.” 

Brian and Crystal pull their heads up from their conversation. He thinks it’s mostly Crystal talking. 

“We should camp here for the night,” Freddie scans the area between them and the ruins, “who knows what nasty ideas they’ve set up. We’ll be able to see them in the day.” 

If the fire is Roger and John, Freddie knows they wouldn’t be able to get close to the camp without the aid of daylight. He’s seen enough end results of their combined trapping skills that he doesn’t dare attempt it.  

Crystal squints at the field, “I don’t see anything.” 

“That’s the point I would imagine.” 

The unfortunate part about where they’re at is that the wind is coming off the lake. It bites through their thin clothes, and Freddie shivers. He would prefer to turn back to the forest, but by the time they got there, it’d be near the morning. Freddie bends down to touch the water. It’s freezing. He glances towards the peaks of the mountains, the winter must’ve come early up there. 

Freddie cups it, and after a second of hesitation brings it to his lips to drink. It’s freezing but refreshing. For the first time in days, he doesn’t have the leathery taste of water left in a canteen for too long. Brian crouches next to him and pulls his hand away in surprise. 

“It’s cold,” Brian mumbles before sticking his palm back in it and mirroring Freddie’s action. 

He takes a moment, and the decides that while the wind makes the air chilly, it isn’t that cold yet. 

“We should clean up,” Freddie pulls at his shirt, “we haven’t had a proper soak in ages.” 

“In water that’s practically ice?” Crystal grimaces. 

“There’s not much else, and it would be nice, don’t you agree?” 

Crystal hesitates, “I’m not going first.” 

“No, we need someone to keep watch.” 

“Maybe we should wait until morning? When the sun can heat it?” 

Freddie nods. If the people at the camp see them in the water in the morning they might be so quick to consider them a threat. Brian looks relieved. 

“I don’t like cold water.” 
“Why is that?” 

Brian shrugs, “they used to dump a bucket over your head and called it a bath, at least once a week.” 

Freddie shudders. His mother used to do that to him and Kash the days that they had gotten too dirty playing in outside. It had meant to teach them the lesson to not get dirty, but all it really taught them is to wipe the dirt off with an old rag before their mother spotted them. 

“They did the same to us,” Crystal says, “twice a week, they didn’t want a prisoner getting sick and spreading it to servant or guard.” 

“Before my time,” Freddie frowns. 

“Well, they weren’t preparing for a siege most of the time I was there. The water in the wells takes ages to fill up again once it’s drained.” 

Freddie remembers one summer, the hottest summer that he lived through, where the wells took weeks to even get enough for a pail. His father said that they needed to dig them only a few meters deeper to the waterline. They must have never gotten dug. 

“Well, I say we make the best of this night,” Freddie claps his hands. 

Brian looks around before settling on the ground. Wheatgrass brushes against his nose, Crystal grabs it before Brian can sneeze and give away their position. On the slight chance that they weren’t noticed.  

“Freddie?” Brian asks after a second, “never mind.” 

He lowers himself to his bum, “what is it, Brian?” 

“Nothing.” 

Freddie raises an eyebrow. 

“Drop it,” Crystal says. 

He looks back at their companion. Crystal’s back is turned towards them. 

“Fine,” he huffs. 

Curiosity burns at the back of his mind. He wonders if he has anything to do with what they were talking about. Brian doesn’t seem bothered by anything, but Freddie wonders what would bother him anymore. Would he still get worked up about him and Roger leaving their trousers all over the floor or John making more work for all of them because he tried to be innovative? 

Freddie clears his throat. Don’t worry about it, he reminds himself. They’ll take each thing as it comes. Brian is alive, that’s all he needs. 

A smaller voice wiggles to the front of his mind, but will this Brian love you all the same? Can Roger love a shadow of his life companion? Will John be able to reconcile them without treating the new Brian with disgust and grief? 

Freddie shakes his head. He’ll deal with that not a second sooner than he must. 

Brian keeps him awake. He tosses and turns, occasionally smacking Freddie with a flailing limb. Soft whimpers fall from his lips. It isn’t unusual for Brian to have nightmares, he’s had them for as long as Freddie’s known him. Not that he knows what they’re about, as far as he knows no one does. Freddie often wonders if it's about the night his parents died. 

When a sob echoes in the silence of the night Freddie knows he has to do something. He sits up, Crystal is still dead asleep, tunic riding up to expose his belly. Freddie craws the meter of space between them. Brian’s head is tossing side to side, gasping as tears fall from closed eyes. 

He shoves Brian, but it gets no response. 

Freddie drags his hand to Brian’s face, about to tap him gently on the cheek. 

“No, Roger. No. Run.” 

Air is punched from his lungs. Brian is having a nightmare about Roger? 

“Mm – deaky,” Brian whispers. 

He kicks out violently and swings his arm. Freddie barely catching the arm the second before it connects with his nose. The contact jolts Brian awake and their skulls crack together. Freddie groans loudly, behind them Crystal grunts. 

Brian is gripping onto his hair, breathing heavily. Freddie rubs at the spot a second more attempting to figure out what he should do with Brian still captured in the throes of a dream. He scoots forward. Hazel eyes snap to his, fear and pain are swimming in the tears but for the briefest second Freddie can see a flash of recognition. 

He wraps onto Brian’s shirt as they fall back against the ground. Freddie soothes and hushes. Mindlessly his hand traces a path from the back of Brian’s head to the middle of his back. Brian grips tightly onto one of his biceps. He winces but otherwise doesn’t react. If Brian needs comfort, he’ll offer it without hesitation.  

Sometime later, Brian pulls away. His eyes are red and puffy, but he’s calmer. 

“Sorry.” 

“Don’t apologize.” 

Brian rolls off of him but quickly plasters himself to Freddie’s side. 

“What was your dream about?” 

“I can’t remember,” Brian looks away puzzled “I was running. There were people in front of me, but the longer I’m awake the less I know about them.” 

Freddie hums, “it’s all right. It might be for the best that you don’t remember the dream. It looked frightful.” 

“I’m sorry for waking you.” 

“I’d rather be woken up than learn you were suffering only a few meters away from me.” 

Brian releases a shaky breath, “I’m so tired.” 

“Rest, we’re not too far from where we want to be, and we should probably bathe after midday for the warmest water we can get.” 

“Okay.” 

It takes a long time for the tension to bleed from Brian’s frame. He’s asleep, but Freddie knows how troubled it still is. His hand keeps rubbing soothing circles on Brian’s side. The wind through the trees and the gentle splashes of disturbed water lure him to a night of shallow sleep. 

Crystal wakes up by tripping over them. 

“Ow.” 

“Sorry,” Crystal mutters, “I thought I heard something.” 

Freddie raises on his elbow, peering into the tall grass. Brian grumbles sleepily and presses back into his chest. He doesn’t see anything. That’s probably the point if it’s any kind of predator or enemy. 

“If it means us harm, we’ll learn soon enough.” 
Brian groans. 

“Up, my heart. Wake up.” 

He smiles at Brian’s annoyed but sleepy glare.  

(“You’d be more of a morning person if you didn’t spend all night obsessing over the stars,” Roger laughs as he pulls Brian out of their bed. 

“Noo,” Brian remains limp. 

“C’mon, we have to air out the sheets,” John says. 

Freddie raises an eyebrow and glances to Roger, “he says that but look at where he is laying.” 

John is sprawled back against the sheet. Brian’s head is on his stomach from where he flopped back after Roger’s failed attempts to pull him out bed. Roger huffs. 

“It’s comfortable, right Brian?” 

“Mmm.” 
Roger cocks his head and then grins widely, “if we soil the sheets, we have to wash and air them out.” 

Brian cracks open an eye. 

“Oh that gets you up,” Freddie chuckles. 

“Let Roger continue,” John says. 

Brian lets out a soft whoosh of air when Roger lands on top of him, barely straddling his hips. Roger leans down and presses his kiss to Brian. They shift, and Roger’s hands dig into Brian’s hair. John tucks a strand of Roger’s hair behind his ear. 

“The bed, not me.” 

Brian breaks the kiss, “you’re warm.” 

“He just wants space for Freddie in his lap.” 

Roger giggles as Brian pecks the tip of his nose, “I think that sounds like a lovely idea.” 

“Freddie in your lap?” John hums. 

“Freddie in your lap.” 

He rolls his eyes, “does Freddie have a say in this?” 

Three pairs of eyes turn towards him, each in various states of lust. 

“Like you’re going to say no?” Roger says with a grin. 

“Imps, the lot of you.” 

Brian smiles lazily, “and yet you love us still.” 

“Oh, I’m not complaining about that.”) 

When no other sign of a threat appears, Freddie drags Brian to his feet. 

“We’ll be back shortly! Yell if you need us.” 

Crystal raises his hand, “good luck.” 

Brian threads his fingers through Freddie’s. They walk a couple of hundred meters away, to where the lake curves enough that it forms a sort of hidden alcove from Crystal’s casual glace. There are rocks too, in direct sunlight. 

“Here, let’s rinse these things out.” 

Freddie tugs off his shirt, grimacing at the smell. Brian nods and then kneels by the water’s edge dipping the fabric into the water and then twisting it out. He takes off his trousers too and unwinds the bandage they had forgotten about. Thankfully, the wound has scabbed over with no trace of infection. He dunks both into the water and holds them there for a few minutes. 

“Bathing in your trousers?” 

Brian blinks and looks down, “right.” 

“Modest are we?” 

“No, just didn’t think about it.” 

Freddie gives Brian privacy either way, by standing up and wringing out the water. He sets them on the rock before repeating the treatment to his small clothes. The wind pricks goosepimples on his skin. Brian is covering himself with his hand and an arm across his chest. 

“Well, might as well get this over with.” 

He wades into the water, biting at his lip at the sting of the cold water as it hits his hips and the tiny cuts he had forgotten about. Turning around he sees Brian hesitating on the edge. Freddie offers his hand. 

“It’s not too bad.” 

Brian yelps when his foot touches the water. After a long breath, he steps into the water again and manages to get ankle-deep. Freddie lets a second of guilt fill him before he tugs more incessantly. The water curls up their body. 

“Sorry.” 

Only after a few moments does the water start to feel warmer. Brian still looks distinctly unhappy and Freddie can’t blame him. He lets himself fall back into the water, letting it wash over his head before he pops back up and swipes a hand through his hair. His hand comes back gray from dirt and he wrinkles his nose. Brian blinks. 

Freddie repeats the action until his hand comes back clean. He shakes his head, water spraying across Brian who whines in protest. 

“Your turn.” 

Brian glances down at the water, “I don’t – the water.” 

“Come to me.” 

Brian walks towards him. Freddie is standing on a mound, enough to make him eye level with Brian. He dips his hand into the water and cups it before letting it drop onto Brian’s head. He jumps. 

“Cold!” 

“Hush, I know.” 

He repeats the action, carefully wetting each strand. The dust and dirt from the road run gray rivulets down Brian’s chest. It’s not getting his hair as clean as Freddie wishes, but it’s getting there.  

“Think  you can go under for me,” Freddie hums, “just a second?” 

Brian hesitates, “maybe.” 

“I’ll keep hold of you.” 

Brian gently clasps his wrist before slowly kneeling in the water. Freddie can tell that he really doesn’t want to do this, but they need to. When Brian goes under, he was a second before squeezing his hands on Brian’s arms to let him know that he can come up. 

The muscles in Brian’s arms turn rigid. He jumps up from the water with a gasp, a wheeze trailing at the end of it. His eyes are darting around. Brian isn’t here, not with Freddie not in this time. He can’t get Brian to release his arms. Moving him might make it worse. 

Crystal probably couldn’t be any help. Alvors’ Mercy. What can he do? 

“Twinkle twinkle little star,” he sings softly. 

Brian’s grip is starting to hurt. Freddie ignores the pain and continues to sing. He gets through the first verse and most of the second before Brian starts to focus on the world around him rather than the world he thinks is around him. Freddie keeps signing, making up verse when he reaches the end. When he can’t think of any more, he starts the song over again. 

Freddie lets out a soft gasp when Brian’s grip finally loosens. He tuts at Brian’s exhausted face. 

“Are you here, now?” 

Brian nods. 

“That’s good, let’s hurry up and get to the shore.” 

“No.” 

“Brian?” 

“I want – I don’t know what I want – but being clean, helps?” 

Freddie bites his cheek in thought. He doesn’t know what Brian means. 

“We can go to the shore, let your hair dangle in the water, I’m afraid my hands aren’t getting it clean enough. That way your head is above it?” 

Brian steps away, “there were hands. Shoving me down. Asking me. Asking me things I don’t know. But they kept pushing me underwater. Thick water.” 

“We aren’t there anymore. See how smooth this water is? Like air.” 

He cups it only to let it run through his fingers. Brian watches with attention. Freddie can still see the tiny tremors running up and down his body. 

“So, what do you say, want to try another way?” 

“My head won’t be under?” 

“I promise.” 
Brian starts backing up to the shore. Freddie giving encouraging smiles every time Brian looks less than certain. It takes them several minutes but finally, they’re both standing out of the water and shivering. The wind ghosts past them. 

“The clothes are getting dry, here put on your small clothes and pants, not your shirt it’ll only get wet again. There we go.” 

Once more decent than they had been, Freddie leads Brian over to a ledge. It’s just enough that Brian can tilt his head back and ger his scalp under without the rest of his head touching it.

“How’s that?” 

“It’s okay. For now.” 

“I’ll work fast.” 

Freddie does, running his hands through the tangles. Working out a few brambles and leaves. The knots tug out, he apologizes every time Brian winces. It does only take a few minutes more of Freddie massaging Brian’s scalp for the water to look suitably clean. 

“There we are. Feel better?” 

“Much.” 

Brian shakes his head. Water sprays everywhere, but he ends up looking more like a disgruntled cat dropped in the bath. Freddie tugs the wet strands off Brian’s face with a grin. The curls already look so much more lively. A little love is all they needed. 

He drops his hand to the side and Brian’s eyes slide over to the water, fear bleeding into his eyes as he stares at it. Freddie glances out at the lazy ripples stirred by the wind. 

“Let’s finish getting dressed and let Crystal have a turn.” 

Brian tugs the ruined shirt over his body. Some of the dye in the fabric is running. Freddie swipes his thumb over the residue. It won’t be enough to winter in, they would have to climb a mountain to get to or walk kilometers out of their way to get anything suitable. 

“Ready, Freddie?” 

“Yes, of course.” 

They walk back to their camp. Freddie’s eyes catch a few glimmers of metal in the grass. Traps. Perhaps for capturing any of the larger prey that roams this area, but Freddie hopes they’re meant for something else. If they are then there’s a good chance that the people camping at the ruins are Roger and John. His heart speeds up. 

How desperately he wants to hug them. 

Brian seems to slip into a daze on their way back to the camp. His finger keeps wrapping and unwrapping around one single hand. He stumbles far more frequently than normal, but when Freddie reaches out to steady him he jumps away. Battle-shock, as they called it in the rebel camps. 

Crystal stands as they approach, “something or someone is watching us.” 

Freddie nods, too preoccupied with Brian dropping to the ground, staring at nothing and continuing to play with that singular strand. 

“They’re about a quarter to half a kilometer away. I only see the movement.” 

“Then all they’re doing is watching,” Freddie frowns at Brian. 

Crystal follows his gaze, “what happened?” 

“He went underwater. It reminded him of something awful, but I thought we had passed it.” 

“Under the water?” 

“Yes, that’s what I said.” 

Crystal shakes his head, “no. I just know. Some prisoners. When they want answers, Spike talked about it a lot, but when they want answers they keep – with their heads – underwater.” 

He watches Crystal grab something imaginary and then extend his arms out like he’s holding it down. Freddie closes his eyes. What could they have wanted from Brian? 

“But that happened before,” Freddie gestures vaguely. 

“It did.” 

Crystal shrugs, “I don’t know how these things work. Keep an eye out there. In case they want to come closer.” 

“I will.” 

He sits down on the patch of flattened grass that crystal just vacated. Freddie keeps most of his attention on Brian, who hasn’t moved, but he keeps his eyes moving across the grass. Focusing on different distances so his vision doesn’t become lazy. 

Sure enough, about a quarter of a kilometer away, there is a sharp movement. Freddie doesn’t focus on that spot. Instead, he glances at the area next to it. Yes! There it is again. He repeats the action again, but this time the movement is closer. 

“Brian!” 

Brian doesn’t respond. 

“Forgive me,” Freddie says. 

He tugs Brian over to him, which predictably causes Brian to try and fight. Freddie manages to get him over and behind him. The damages are done, and Brian is on the ground gripping his hair and breathing raggedly. 

“I’m sorry, my heart.” 

He’ll apologize later when he isn’t worried that someone is going to try and kill them and Brian seems to be in the mind to accept his apology. Or even understand what he’s saying. 

The movement is closer. At this rate, he wouldn’t be surprised if they’re out in seconds. Whatever it is, it’s quick. Faster than a human, but not as quick as a beast. It leaves only a few things but that would mean –  

He ducks as a rock whizzes by his head, into the grass beyond. Freddie glances back to see Crystal lifting another stone. The movement stills, and finally, it’s visible over the grass. An arrow clips Crystal’s stone out of the air. A warning. 

Freddie catches brown hair a moment before it vanishes back into the grass. 

“Wait,” Freddie whispers. 

“It’s not friendly.” 

“You attacked first.” 

Crystal opens his mouth, but a second arrow whips over the top of Crystal’s head, leaving a shallow scratch. 

Freddie hisses, “I think he’s promising that the next one won’t miss, now drop your rock collect.” 

“He?” 

“Isn’t that right, John?” 

A whistle follows his statement. Three sharp notes followed by one long one. Freddie mimics the three notes but then breaks the long up into three separate sounds two high and one low. 

The figure emerges above the grass. Alarmingly close, and Freddie is relieved he realized. Unfortunately, the scuffle only served to make Brian’s state worse. Freddie shifts in front of Brian, shielding him. Poorly, but he knows now John is. He’ll focus on the greatest threat. Currently, it’s Crystal because he’s the unknown and even if Brian wasn’t curled up behind him, he wouldn’t register to John. 

Either way, Freddie doesn’t move until the tension in the bowstring is gone and the arrow stowed. It’s all a false security, but when Crystal loses some of his tension Brian’s breaths sound easier.  

“Freddie?” John asks. 

“I thought we established this.” 

John bolts to him, not dropping the bow. Freddie steps forward and wraps his arms around John. The oh-so-familiar scent fills his nose, sea salt and pine. He digs his fingers into John’s cloak. 

“Holy Celara, Freddie.” 

He pulls back and notes how John’s eyes are bright. His hand skates along John’s cheeks and up to his ears where he strokes the point. The ears twitch up, revealing how happy he is. 

“Hello, dearest.” 

John holds him at arm’s length, “you look awful, Freddie. What have you gotten yourself into?” 

“You wouldn’t quite believe the story. Dreadfully boring really, I had to find it some way to make it dramatic.” 

“I’ve had enough of your dramat – Freddie?” 

Freddie studies John’s face. His green eyes are trained on the figure behind him. A neutral mask has fallen, but he can see through the cracks. The way his lips are wavering and ears dropping. He turns his head a little more to see that Brian is meeting John’s eyes. A little more grounded but not fully present. 

A part of him dies when he must push John back a second before he dives forward. This was not his plan. He wanted to give them a warning! 

“Freddie,” John barks, “explain.” 

It’s good that he isn’t in the mood for nonsense. John pushes away from him. His eyes still trained on Brian, but his hand inching towards his arrows. Freddie holds out his hand to stop whatever insane idea Crystal has planned. 

“I wouldn’t,” Freddie says. 

“Who is he? Freddie.” 

“If you’ll give me a moment,” Freddie sighs, “you’re acting like Roger, demanding answers without giving anyone a moment to speak.” 

“Then speak!” 

Freddie nearly crumbles when he sees John’s face. Brian is still looking at him. He can only imagine what John’s thinking. That Brian has had enough time to realize who he’s looking at. Why hasn’t he – Freddie knows because he felt it. 

“That isn’t Brian,” John shakes his head, “it can’t be.” 

“It is. I swear.” 

“No. It’s a trick. Brian died! They wouldn’t have kept him alive for a year.” 

Freddie wishes he didn’t have to speak these next words, “they would if they could humiliate him. They made him a palace slave – palace servant.” 

“He wouldn’t let that happen!” 

“He doesn’t remember,” Freddie whispers. 

“Doesn’t remember what?” John steps back, “Freddie!” 

“Us. Anything.” 

John’s ears drop back, “what – you mean that – why would they?” 

“I don’t know,” Freddie says sadly. 

He turns enough to see that Brian’s eyes are narrowed, likely trying to figure out what is happening. Freddie is distracted by John falling into him. Not sobbing, not in front of strangers, but shaking. Freddie runs his hand through John’s hair. Shorter than he remembers it. 

John cut his hair again. Freddie hates it, John had mourned him. 

“Shh, it’s okay my love.” 

“It isn’t,” John whispers, “how can it be?” 

“We’re together again.” 

John pulls away. Tears kept back by sheer force of will, tiny fangs digging into his bottom lip, “oh gods, Roger. What do we – how do we?” 

Freddie looks towards the ruins, “we tell him the truth.”  

“Freddie, you haven’t seen him in months!” John bites his lips, “what he’s become? It’s like back then. Just living for his next goal.” 

He closes his eyes. Those days, when Roger had molded himself into the rebellion, Freddie remembers spending hours every night pulling Roger back into some semblance of himself. It had really been Brian that brought him out of it when they were talking about forsaking the cause. They didn’t break then, and they’re together now. This has to be enough. 

“He’ll be okay, Roger’s strong. Almost as strong as you, John.” 

John shakes his head, “I don’t feel it.” 

“Well, that’s why I’m here to tell you.” 

They stare at each other until Crystal moves again. John has an arrow knocked and drawn in the space of a heartbeat. Freddie raises his hands. 

“Don’t shoot!” 
“Who is he?” John asks. 

“This is Crystal.” 

“And?” 

“He’s a friend, Crystal this is John. John let’s relax.” 

Crystal keeps his body tensed, and John doesn’t drop his lower his weapon. Freddie looks between them. 

“He’s a friend. He helped us,” Freddie says quietly, “he helped Brian not give up.” 

One of John’s ears twitches up. He is listening then. 

“He let Brian tell him everything, keep up his strength while the royals were trying to sap it,” Freddie says in a rush, “he’s helped.” 

When John still keeps the bow raised, Freddie pulls out his last card, “we owe it to Brian to not kill him. He doesn’t mean any harm, right Crystal.” 

“I don’t,” Crystal raises both his hands palm up. 

John’s ears flick back but he slowly lowers the bow. The string is slack, but he isn’t completely convinced that Crystal is harmless. 

“You helped Brian, why?” 

“Because he was in the cell across from me. I could tell how much he wanted to live.” 

“So?” 

Freddie almost feels offended that John is being so resolutely stubborn. Then he lets it go when he realizes that John is just trying to protect what he has left of his family. To him, they’re all potential threats, even though he knows John believes that it’s him, and on some level, he believes that it’s Brian. But if he doesn’t do this properly, he’s putting Roger in danger. The last truth he really can trust. 

“You need hope in the Royal Prison. I didn’t want to see him lose that. Lose the will to live. He loved the three of you so much.” 

Crystal hesitates for a second, “and I realized that I wanted to be loved like that. So I promised him I’d make sure you three were safe at The Place.” 

The arrow falls to the ground. John’s mouth is parted and his ears droop. Freddie nods. 

Brian stands for the first time since John’s arrival. John turns towards him, ears dropping further as he takes in Brian’s state. Freddie stands to the side to let Brian pass. He has no idea what’s going to happen now. 

Freddie watches Brian reach out both hands. John hesitates but then extends one of his (the one previously holding the string). Brian grips it, and to his surprise rubs his thumb over the knuckle like Freddie had been doing to him. 

“Brian?” John asks softly. 

“Hm?” 

“Do you remember me?” 

Brian narrows his eyes, scanning over John’s face as though in deep thought. Then he shakes his head. Freddie feels his heart break, he had thought that maybe John’s appearance would have jolted something in his head. 

“But I know you?” Brian tries, and then shakes his head, “more like you feel… familiar. Like Freddie does.” 

It takes him a second to put the pieces together. Brian’s instant trust of him outside of the palace. The constant touching and sleeping together. John’s eyes widen before he tangles their hands together. The bow drops to the ground as John reaches up with his second hand to carefully pull Brian’s head to him. Their foreheads bump together. 

Freddie gives them space when he hears the rough syllables from the northern language slip from John’s lips. He looks at Crystal who’s face is pinched together at the sight. Brian’s body is angled towards John, but Freddie can’t see any of the softness that this gesture would usually bring to the surface. 

“Crystal?” 

“It’s nothing,” Crystal says with a tight voice, “I’m happy you found them.” 
“You still need to meet Roger,” Freddie says, “I’m sure you two will hit it off wonderfully.” 

Crystal watches John chuckle as he tugs on Brian’s still damp locks, “I can’t believe what it took for you to get a hair cut.” 

“Did I have long hair?” Brian asks. 

“Besides, we might need to you be a neutral voice. Roger can have a fairly impressive temper – well he has impressive emotions.” 

“I won’t go to you to that place,” Crystal shakes his head, “that isn’t – it isn’t for an outsider like me.” 

“It’s for anyone.” 

“It was,” Crystal shrugs. 

John goes to pull away again, his ears up in happiness but then presses his forehead back to Brian’s like he can’t bear to separate. 

“But now, you four need it to just be you four.” 

Freddie shakes his head but Crystal raises his hand. 

“I’ll come when – if things ever get back to being the way Brian always spoke about it.” 

“How did he speak about it?” 

Freddie can’t tear his eyes away from John’s smile. For the first time in a year, it’s reached his eyes. Brian is smiling back, confused by he seems fine with the proximity. 

“He said, it was hard at times, but at the end of the day it was the easiest thing he’s ever done.” 

“I see.” 

It was another half an hour before John finally pulled away from Brian and stayed a respectable distance away. Brian looks a little more at ease now that he isn’t being held still. Freddie can’t imagine what he’s feeling. 

“We need to get back while there’s still daylight,” John says, “Rog has this place pretty well and fortified.” 

“That’s why we stayed over here.” 

“I haven’t seen him make so many traps outside of the rebellion.” 

“He wants to keep you and himself safe.” 

Both times their family had been split up, it was because they managed to find the gap in Roger’s fortifications. Freddie wrapped many cut fingers the weeks after Brian’s disappearance when Roger could finally force himself to do something other than move to a new place and had the energy to do something other than sleep or flying off in a rage. 

He imagines it only got worse. 

John leads the way through the field. Zigzagging in seemingly random patterns, but Freddie can make out the signs of tripwires and bear traps all around them. He holds tightly onto Brian who seems interested in wandering away from John’s chosen path. It’s evening by the time they reach the road leading into the ruins. There’s a singular column standing up against the sky, and the only remainder of the building is a marble archway over the road. 

He can see the spots were Roger set up more traps along the wall. Hidden to anyone who doesn’t know what they’re looking for. John whistles, and a few seconds later the return call comes. He starts to walk but Brian hesitates and tugs him back. 

“Bri?” 

“Are we about to meet the last one?” 

“Roger?” 

Brian nods. 

“Yes.” 

“I don’t want to,” Brian bites his bottom lip, “it looks like it hurt John a lot when he saw me for the first time. And then I see how you sometimes look like you’re hurting when you see me.” 

“Don’t worry about that, we’re just being silly.” 

“But it still hurts you. I don’t like doing that to you. Or John.” 

Freddie grabs Brian’s second hand, “trust me when the hurt eases, and it will, we won’t even think about it. It hurts now because…” 

“Why does it hurt now? Why would it stop hurting?” Brian asks frantically, “I want to stop hurting you.” 

Freddie shakes his head in wonder. For all that this Brian doesn’t remember, this sounds exactly like an argument they would be having. It’s time for him to let Brian stop wondering. 

“Bri, my heart. You know that you mean a lot to us, yes?” 

Brian nods. 

“Well, we’re very happy to have you back. I know the hurt will stop, because someday we’ll stop thinking about this in two parts, you’ll just be our Brian again.” 

“But I still hurt you.” 

 Freddie shakes his head, “it hurts, but it is not you hurting us.”

Brian lets out a frustrated huff.

“You are not actively hurting us. It the people that hurt you that is hurting us. If you had chosen this fate, then it would be different.”

“I don’t get it.”

Freddie gently presses his pam to Brian’s face. He doesn’t know how else he can explain this to Brian. It does hurt, he can’t lie about that but he can’t let Brian think that this is his fault when he is a victim.

He looks towards the arch, “come, please.”
Brian bites down hard on his lip. He draws blood, Freddie swipes his thumb over it.

“Freddie…”

“Please. Roger would want to see you again.”

“Why? If it would hurt him?”

“Because he loves you. He’s spent more of his life with you than without.”

Brian nods slowly. He still looks hesitant, but it’s all the confirmation that he needs to get Brian into the ruins. John peaks back around the edge of a wall, one ear cocked out to the side in confusion. Freddie waves his hand and starts walking towards him. Brian shuffles behind him.

“Is he okay?” John whispers.

“As okay as he can be. We’re going to have to show him that he still has a place with us.”

“How could he think that he would not?” John gasps before shaking his head.

Freddie squeezes his shoulder, “we’ll get through this John.”

They walk a few more meters before they reach the area that Roger and John have set up to be the outside portion of their campsite. It’s carefully cleaned of any tracks, a firepit in the middle has wood stacked on it neatly, carefully arranged to keep the smoke to a minimum. They can’t do anything about the glow on the plains. For the more part, however, the fire keeps the beasts at bay.

Crystal is standing across the firepit with his hands raise while Roger looks irritated. His weapons lean against the wall, Freddie frowns at the strange show of carelessness. Then he spots the dagger on Roger’s belt and nods. Roger’s eyes flick over to John.

“What in the world are you – Freddie?”

Freddie steps out from behind John fully. Brian is still hiding behind the wall and John. That’s good for now, he isn’t sure how much of a shock Roger could handle gracefully.

“Here I am.”

Roger’s eyes don’t leave Crystal’s form as he inches over towards Freddie. Once he’s only a meter away Roger jumps on him, wrapping tightly around his neck with a loud joyous noise. Freddie smiles as Roger pulls him into a bruising kiss. He can feel everything Roger’s felt bleed into the kiss. His fingers press into Roger’s hips, and Roger leans more onto him. Fully on his toes so Freddie is mostly supporting his entire weight.

Roger pulls away just far enough to breathe. His eyes crinkled in bliss, tongue poking through his teeth as he smiles. Freddie raises a hand to tug at the short blond locks.

“It looks good,” Freddie says.

“Yeah? It was an… impulse.”

It doesn’t surprise him. If John had cut his hair again, Roger likely joined in solidarity. All his has to do is get used to seeing him with a golden halo rather than a golden mane. Freddie hums and drops the strand. Tutting over the tiny bruises on Roger’s cheek. Old and yellow, and he can’t imagine what cause such a pattern, almost like it was fist-shaped.

“I can’t believe you’re here,” Roger whispered, “we – I had thought that – when we heard the rebels besieged the capital, and lost.”

“Their bad idea was our good fortune,” Freddie says.

A lot of Roger’s friends were probably involved with the siege, and he probably hasn’t been able to hear anything about their fates.

“I’m very glad to have you again.”

Roger is smiling again, eyes darkened by the grief that their rebellion failed. Freddie can’t begrudge him that. In another world, they would have been there. Likely have been one of the men in the courtyard, taken by a lucky sword strike or arrow. Except that isn’t their world, and he made it out.

They’re all together again. Freddie turns back to see Brian gripping loosely at the wall. John is watching him, before darting his eyes to Roger occasionally. When he catches John’s attention, he gets a nod in return. Freddie inhales deeply, trying to gather the words together.

“Roger.”

Roger backs away, “what is it?”

His eyes are scanning the area, looking for a threat. Freddie shifts a little, uncovering Brian’s form.

“I brought someone with me,” Freddie shakes his head when Roger’s eyes dart to Crystal.

“Who Freddie?”

“Brian.”

He realizes his mistake the second Roger’s face moves from confusion to anger. Roger pushes away. His posture reads like he hasn’t decided whether or not to fight or flee. Freddie should have just let him find Brian himself as John had.

“Why would you say that?”

Brian lets out a soft whimper at the volume of Roger’s yell. Roger’s gaze whips to him and he steps forward before he seems to know what he’s doing. His mouth drops open, and Freddie has to gesture for Brian to step out from behind the wall. Roger steps back, but this time in shock.

“No. No. No,” Roger drops to the ground, “this isn’t happening. You’ve finally lost it, Roger.”

Freddie worries at the inside of his cheek. John looks torn between going to Roger and letting whatever is going to happen, happen.

“Please let me wake up,” Roger mumbles, “I can’t do this again.”

Brian steps forward and crouches. Roger runs his hand through his hair before looking up. Freddie grimaces the look on Roger’s face, soft and hopeful but wounded too. He hesitantly reaches a hand up to Brian’s face. He stops only a few centimeters away and Brian finches at the movement. There’s never been this much hesitation between them before.

Then Roger reaches out, his fingertips pressing lightly against Brian’s scarred cheek. His fingers run down the wound before skating up into Brian’s hair. His secondhand cups the other side of Brian’s face, before it too explores. Roger’s expression slowly opens up from being hope to awe.

“Brimi,” Roger whispers.

Freddie bites his tongue and copper fills his mouth. He knows the other hand is about to swat them.

“I know you’re Roger,” Brian says equally quiet.

Roger’s eyes narrow, “what?”

“He doesn’t remember any of us,” John’s voice cuts across the moment.

Roger turns towards him. His hands still exploring Brian’s head, twisting curls around his fingers. Then he glances back at Brian.

“That’s why,” Roger mouths.

Brian scoots forward. Roger tenses and backs away a moment before falling forward. His hands hold him away from leaning on Brian, but he’s still in Brian’s space. Freddie frowns, unsure of what he should do. What he could do to make this easier for Roger. John grips his shoulder and shakes his head.

A moment later, Roger starts shaking and his hands drop from Brian’s shoulders but instead of touching Brian he doubles over himself into a ball. His head only centimeters from the ground. Freddie can see the tremors grown with strength and the choked out gasps. Brian blinks, and his face screws up.

Celara, please. He prays.

Please what? Make this better? Easier? Let Brian remember them? Freddie doesn’t know what would make everything go back to the days before Brian was taken for them.

Tears fall from Brian’s eyes. He reaches down to cup Roger’s face, carefully pulling him out of the tangled mess he’s become. Roger isn’t crying. Like John, there are too many strangers. His face is red from the effort and he can see where something has been bitten hard enough to bleed. His nails are digging into his palm.

Freddie knows they’re only seconds away from Roger bursting out of his skin. Brian stares at him, thumb running along Roger’s jaw.

“I’m sorry,” Brian says.

Roger shakes his head. Freddie wants to shake Brian because he doesn’t need to apologize for something that wasn’t his fault. John’s hand squeezes tighter on his shoulder. He spares a glance to Crystal who has moved a polite distance away.

“You should be,” Roger spits out, “I missed you.”

He has to wrap around John’s arm to stop him from charging in there and fighting with Roger or Brian. Freddie isn’t entirely sure.

“You should have fought.”

Brian tilts his head. Grips the side of his face, tight enough that the skin whitens, but Freddie doesn’t think he’s causing any pain. Roger had always been good about not raising a hand to any of them.

“But, I forgive you.”

Roger lets out a short laugh, the words surprising him. He loosens his grip on Brian’s face, “I forgive you.”

Brian offers a tiny smile.

“You came back,” Roger’s posture changes slowly, “you kept our promise. I forgive you.”

“Thank you.”

Roger brings Brian into a hug. Freddie can make out sounds, but not the words being said. He loosens his arm from John’s. His ears are twitching but mostly upright. John glances at him.

“Gods, I was so angry,” Roger says louder than the rest.

The words quickly fade into the silent space of Brian’s neck. Freddie wonders what is being said, but like John, he gives Roger his moment. He reaches for John’s hand and brings it up to his lips in a gentle kiss.

“I love you.”

John smiles softly, he brings Freddie’s palm to his lips before murmuring his home tongue into the hand. Freddie doesn’t need a translator to know what John said.

Roger pulls away for a second. His hands more fervently searching the parts of Brian’s body that he can reach. Head, arms, and hands. He lingers over the new scars. When he learns these new parts, his hand trail down to Brian’s wrists and stroke the inside skin there.

Freddie raises his eyebrow, but then he moves forward. Roger opens one of his arms up, and he crashes into the space between Roger and Brian. John wanders around to the other side, and this time Brian is the one that invites him in. They close together, their heads all tilted together, and the space completely theirs.

It feels like coming home. All the stress from the past weeks melting away. His nerves don’t feel tense for the first time since he was captured. He smells John’s piney scent and feels Roger’s warmth and he sees the mass of curls on Brian’s head. There is a year between them and this moment, but it is the same as it always has been.

Somehow, he knows that they are going to be okay.

Freddie peels away from their bubble of absolution to see that Crystal is nowhere in sight. He frowns, but then Roger is pulling him back into their gravity.

It’s several hours later than he finally feels stable enough to pull himself out of range of his boys. Hours of crying and remapping bodies had exhausted them. They’re asleep on the surprisingly comfortable bed in the underground room. Brian is spread wide in the middle, John’s head on Brian’s middle, situated low enough that his feet are hanging off his bed. Freddie can’t help but laugh at how high his ears are even in the bonelessness of sleep. A small smile plays on his lips.

Roger’s is less of a happy sight to see. His legs are wrapped around one of Brian’s, and his hands are twisted into his shirt (why they had one of Brian’s old shirts, Freddie doesn’t want to think about). His lips are pressed tightly together and there’s no space between him and Brian’s form.

Both their faces are blotchy from the tears they finally let fall.

Freddie himself had been tucked behind Roger. John preferred to see him, and Roger needed to be cocooned and reassured that both of them were real by touch. He slides out of bed, ignoring Roger’s slight whimper as he seeks Freddie out by flexing his back.

“I’ll be back soon, my flame.”

Roger seems mollified by the statement by clinging to Brian harder. Brian’s face twitches in his sleep, but he turns his head so that his nose is pressed into the top of Roger’s head. John’s hand climbs up so that it’s curled up over Roger. Freddie moves to grab a piece of paper and charcoal, wanting to record this movement. A paper drifts to the ground out of the stack of used ones.

He’ll grab it in a second. Quickly he marks down the angles and position of each limb and how the shadows are playing across their forms from the candle almost burned down to its end because they forgot to blow it out. Once it’s marked down, he sets the paper and charcoal to the side to pick up the stray piece of paper. It has a note on it.

Freddie,

My departure may have been abrupt, but this was always how it would be. I did not lie when I said that if things became as they were with Brian before, then I might try to find you. Granted you may have to find me first. Then again finding people seems to be your specialty. I’m sure that if you had any fondness for me you may be saddened and wondering about my departure.

It simply comes down to two truths.

One, the truth of Brian’s last night of being the Brian that was yours wholly and completely. He prayed that night, almost as though he was fevered. He asked for the chance to just see you three again. I suppose someone was listening, Isoi or Celara, because instead of being executed as was his fate that day if he did not succumb… well I suppose you can gather what happened. He suffered a fate worse than death for the chance that he may be with you again.

Love so consuming is terrifying. Awe-inspiring and that of muses. I could not stay with you knowing what Brian gave up to be without again without my stomach clenching in ill-will. He perhaps did not see it the same way and saw the gesture through the tint of love. The answer is lost to the walls.

Two, I do despise that all-consuming love. The idea that your heart can be tied to another’s blood. It’s all I’ve been told to hate growing up. Seeing it for the first time. It explains a great many things. The simple truth of this is that having seen that kind of love, I wanted it for myself. It was perhaps a bid of a desperate heart… and even now my hand shakes to write these words. But I wish to feel that love requited.

It cannot be done when a song is already complete.

We will meet again, and while I did not fulfill my promise to see you happy in the north as Brian intended. I did see you happy and saw that Brian’s last wish came to fruition.

Crystal

Freddie blinks at the letter. He laughs and glances back to the bed. Where they’ve only grown more entwined, but there is still a space left for him. They’ll meet Crystal again. He knows that Roger already plans to find his sister and John as well. The few rebels that they cared about will be next on their list. The Place will become the home for their family. He’ll find his first love, where he made his oath of never looking back, and bring him to their home.

Crystal was wrong about just one thing. Their song isn’t complete, but an ever-changing work in progress. Freddie smiles and folds the letter up before slipping it into the singular book that they were able to salvage. Each of their songs fills the pages, papers bent and creased, and some water stained. It’s a promise.

He looks back to the bed where John’s ears are starting to twitch more restlessly. Freddie stands and carries the candle over to the ledge by the bed. Roger’s eyes flutter open and squint at him. One hand detangles from Brian’s shirt and makes a small grabby motion. He climbs behind Roger, pressing his knees tightly against Roger’s before blowing out the candle and shifting into a more comfortable position.

Roger presses back against his chest and then settles. Freddie stares up into the ceiling, and for the first time in a year he hears three different patterns of breathing next to him. They form the melody of a lullaby and he can’t fight its pull any longer.

Chapter Text

It’s their first full summer in The Place. Freddie leans back as the breeze tosses his hair. He pulled it back, but even know some is slipping out of the band. Perhaps he should trim it again, then shakes his head. There’s no reason to keep it as short as he had gotten used to wearing it since leaving the prison. He turns his head towards the tiny cluster of cottages. There’s only three. Four if he counts theirs behind him.

Early mornings are lazy, and Freddie is certain that he is the only one up. Julie and Clare may be up feeding their babes, but otherwise, there’s no real rush to tend to the fields. Not when they’ve had such a good season.

He opens his eyes when he hears footsteps behind him. The long legs don’t give him an immediate clue to who is behind him, but he looks up and curls blot out the sun.

“Morning, Brimi.”

Brian smiles his crooked smile before moving to sit next to him. Freddie slides over.

“Good morning, Fred.”

They watch the lake turn with the colors of the sky from pink to orange to the soft blue of the morning. Freddie places his hand over Brian’s. He turns his head too. Brian’s curls move with the soft wind, finally crawling past his shoulders. The scar on his cheek is bright white in the dim light, and Freddie can’t help but reach over and touch it.

“Has it been two years already?”

“I believe so,” Brian mumbles, “I can’t believe how many you’ve found already.”

It had been a whim that Brian and John had gone to a town just before they set off to find this place, and to their great joy (or rather John’s) they had found both Clare and Julie. Both promising to climb up when the children weren’t nursing so much. The third cottage had yet to be filled, and a fourth should have its skeleton standing by next month. Not that they are going to search for anyone until next year at the earliest.

“Well, this is our home. It’s only fitting that our family comes here.”

Brian’s face changes, a deep frown forming his face. Freddie reaches down to turn Brian’s head towards him.

“What did you dream?”

He prays that it was a good one.

“It was when Roger and I were young. Tim and Clare had run off, gotten into some mischief but the captain kept yelling at them, saying how they were worthless orphans.”

Freddie sighs. Today isn’t going to be a good day. The bad memories, it seems, have the easiest times slipping through the wall in Brian’s mind. There have been worse, but it’s been so long since Brian woke up smiling, yelling about how he remembered something as trivial as the time they went to the coast and had seen the baby turtles crawling to the sea.

So much of Brian’s memories are still lost to him.

“They aren’t worthless, and you were a child, whatever you did or didn’t do doesn’t matter.”

Brian curls into his arms, staring out at the water. Freddie combs his hand through the curls. His fingers snag in a tangle, which causes Brian to hiss in pain rather than pleasure. He coos a soft apology before attempting to work the tangle out with one hand.

“Are the others up?”

He feels more than sees how the hazel eyes flick up at him at his obvious attempt to change the subject. Freddie hates dwelling on the bad memories, they’re making so many good ones here. It’s almost a relief to know that there’s a very slim chance he’ll have to see Brian double over with his hand to his mouth remembering how many battle wounds he had to treat and how many he lost.

“No,” Brian replies.

“We should go back to them.”

Brian nods and then stands, offering his hand to Freddie who takes it. He pops up onto his feet and delivers a gentle peck to Brian’s lips. When Brian leans down to chase him he twists his hand in Brian’s grip, sliding out of it. Freddie skips away to the steps on their porch.

“Tease,” Brian mumbles.

He ambles slowly, much to Freddie’s annoyance. Brian kisses him on the cheek which melts Freddie’s pout. Freddie grips the curls and brings Brian into a proper kiss. He deepens it and Brian complies, allowing him to lead the kiss. They break apart, Freddie grins at the flush crawling down Brian’s face from his ears.

“Now let’s wake the others.”

Freddie grabs Brian’s hand, tugging him through their house. It’s only three rooms really. The main area, kitchen, and a bedroom. Perhaps in time they’ll want a bigger space, but Freddie can’t imagine a life where he isn’t tripping over or running into one of his boys. Brian laughs suddenly and he has to turn to see what it was that’s so funny.

“Nothing Fred,” Brian says a little breathless, “I’m just… happy.”

Freddie feels love bubble in his chest, and he can’t help but kiss Brian again. Gentle kisses that cross the bridge of his nose and tip before lightly kissing his lips three times. Brian is still smiling, face split wide in a toothy grin. He pulls Brian into their bedroom, glancing over his shoulder to make sure that he wasn’t about to run into anything.

His eyes are automatically drawn to the two sleeping figures on the bed. John’s mouth is open, allowing tiny snores to escape. Clearly he’s taken up the space that Brian vacated, and pushed Roger over so that he’s barely on the bed a single leg and arm dangling over the side. Freddie sends Brian a wink.

Brian realizes what he’s about to do seconds before he does and barely gets out a squeak before Freddie is jumping into the middle of the bed. Roger yelps and tumbles off the side, while John barely keeps himself on the bed. Freddie laughs at the two disgruntled glares he gets. Roger climbs on the bed with the dignity of a kitten that has missed a jump.

“Why didn’t you stop him, Brimi?”

“I realized too late,” Brian walks over to the edge of the bed.

John pushes against Freddie. He kisses the corner of John’s eyes which crinkle in joy. Freddie barks out a laugh when he’s shoved to the bed with John over him. He tugs at John’s ears which are practically standing straight up. It causes John to closes his eyes in pleasure for the briefest second before leaning down and catching him in a deep kiss. When they break apart, Brian and Roger are at the foot of the bed, with Roger kissing down Brian’s neck.

“No funny business,” John says.

Freddie raises an eyebrow.

“Julie is coming over early.”

Roger whines, “seriously? Again?”

“Clare is coming. You act as though there’s so much more to do.”

The pout lessens, “fine.”

“We’ll make it up to you tonight,” Freddie winks.

Roger turns back towards Brian, who is watching them lazily, “what do you think Bri?”

“Hm?”

“Hey, don’t go back to sleep.”

Brian shrugs and then stretches back. John crawls off of Freddie and shoulders against Roger, “switch, I want my morning Bri cuddles.”

Roger makes a great show of it, as though he’s being asked to push a rock up the side of a mountain. Freddie rolls his eyes, but then Roger is grinning at him with his tongue between his teeth. Their kiss is much more give and take than it was with Brian and John. He cups the back of Roger’s head, hand sliding through the still short blond locks. Neither John nor Roger had let their hair get long again.

Freddie has never had the courage to ask. Roger eventually gets bored of holding himself up and flops to the side. They share badly angled kisses, both too lazy to move their heads into an uncomfortable position. This way, Freddie can see how Brian cheekily bites at John’s lips as he pulls away. John’s ears twitch in joy.

Brian stills, his eyes unfocused for a moment. Roger sits up, biting at his fingers. Freddie waits for a moment, but when there’s no rapid breathing he relaxes. John climbs off of Brian but kneels next to his hips. After a few minutes of the room filling with tension, and none of them dare to move, Brian sits up with a confused frown on his face.

Roger reacts the quickest, his fingers pressing against Brian’s face and bring his gaze to Roger. John backs away, and Freddie crawls to curl around him.

“It’s okay,” he whispers.

John bites at his bottom lip, ears dropping slightly. Freddie flicks at one in warning.

Brian wraps his hands around Roger’s wrists, stroking the bare skin. He turns his gaze to it and then leans back so that he can see all three of them. At least that’s what Freddie think’s he is doing. Roger isn’t chasing him, so he’s certain that Brian is with them for the moment.

“Where are the braids?” Brian asks quietly.

Freddie glances down to his wrist, then to John’s and Roger’s. He doesn’t know why he hasn’t noticed that the others have stopped wearing them.

“It didn’t feel right,” John whispers quietly, “you didn’t remember the vow, so it felt like it was forcing you.”

He had never asked for his back. Freddie frowns, why hadn’t he? The braids had meant so much to him. Part of him expects Brian to kick up another fuss about this. Every time they held something back about their relationship (kissing, cuddling, sex) Brian had gotten a familiar streak of stony stubbornness before storming out. Brian wanted them to go back to how it was before he was taken, but Freddie agreed with John and Roger that something didn’t feel right.

Brian wanted to be the same person he was, but Freddie knows it isn’t possible. That hope laid to rest on the other side of the mountains. They’ve all grown and changed, and they aren’t the same people anymore.

“Can we, can we wear them again?” Brian asks quietly.

Roger brings Brian’s hand up to his heart, “is that what you want? To be that again?”

“Yes,” Brian breathes, “I remember kissing you all and feeling the silk rub against my skin. I couldn’t remember what it was until just now. I’m sorry.”

Freddie pushes up quickly, kissing Brian on the cheek before tugging on his ear.

“None of that.”
Brian rubs at his ear, wincing dramatically.

“And if you want us,” John says filling in the final spot of their circle, “you’ll always have us.”

Freddie can’t describe the joy he feels when Brian looks at them and smiles almost brighter than the sun, certainly brighter than every star in the night sky, “and you’ll always have me.”

They fall together, each touching the other. Bound in an endless tangle of limbs and love. Freddie laughs breathless as Roger and Brian get into a squirming fight, knocking their knees together, and John nearly falling off the bed as a result. In a year, they’ll go out and search for the rest of their family.

By the end of the day, they’ll be promised to each other again. Not that they need any proof of that.

(A year ago, they finally crossed over the last peak and below them is an expansive valley. The lake bright even from where they stand. Freddie glances back to his boys. Roger has his arm in a sling and John’s legs are bandaged all the way to he knees. Brian’s hands are wrapped, and even now are stained brown.

He looks back down to the land of endless promises and lets out a long breath of relief. There’s an echo of approval that sinks through his bones. Their vow to each other finally fulfilled even though they are no longer reckless kids.)

John ends up falling off the bed, dragging Brian half off it, his back to John's chest and feet still on the bed. Freddie carefully memorizes the scene to sketch later.

(Their first winter John reveals his Light Festival gift to Brian. It’s a beautifully carved guitar. Freddie remembers spending hours etching into the body of it the story of the First Instrument. Roger had spent hours forming the strings, sealing them together with a weak wax and then coating them multiple times.

Brian takes it with the same reverence you would a priceless holy artifact. His hands tracing the lines of the body and neck, and then of the story. Carefully he checks the strings, before frowning and reaching up to tune them. None of them had shown Brian how to play. Roger straightens from where he had been slouched against the wall. John leans forward eagerly.

When the first few notes play, the guitar tuned and singing a beautiful sound. Freddie smiles. The random chords start taking shape, and it only takes a few bars before Freddie realizes what Brian is playing.

“That’s the song,” Freddie whispers, “that night – that’s the first song I sang to you.”

Brian stops strumming, “it’s the one thing I’ve never forgotten.”)