Archive of Our Own ^beta

i.

Thirain tumbled across the marble flooring, thrown back by the sudden burst of energy from his uncle. Pain coursed through his body, searing and heavy, bringing him back to his knees the moment he attempted to stand once again. This certainly wasn’t the same Scherrit who had just laid upon the ground.

"This is… demonic power. You've sold your soul," Thirain exhaled, craning his head up to witness the dark red aura surging around Scherrit. He was family - the same blood ran through both of their veins - yet when Thirain looked into his uncle's eyes, he saw none of Luterra's legacy left. They were cold; loathing.

"Sold? No, Thirain, I took this power," Scherrit taunted, chest vibrating with deep laughter. "Humans? Demons? I'll rule them all. Allow me to demonstrate my new power."

Scherrit began to stalk across the room, dark energy twisting down his arm to cloak the sword he wielded. The situation had deteriorated exponentially and panic seeped into Thirain; he couldn't move, could barely think or keep his eyes open long enough to witness his own demise. And how else could this end if he didn't have enough strength to raise Vanquisher?

Suddenly a flash of light pink hair crossed in his periphery and Thirain released the breath he wasn't even aware he'd been holding. He closed his eyes; he didn't need to look up to know who was there, who was always there at the right time.

Scherrit's voice was tinged with amusement as he growled, "You… You're still here. Your many talents are wasted on him. Why not join me? I rather think you’d make an excellent queen."

There was a beat of silence and Thirain raised his head to see Rhea staring down his uncle. For a split second she glanced back, shooting him a smile, before focusing her attention once more. "Are your options really so slim?" she quipped, and pulled the elegant harp from her back, golden energy humming below her feet. Although she stood with the same confidence he had come to expect, steadfast and assured, Thirain could tell from the near imperceptible rise and fall of her shoulders that she was exhausted. Yet she filled the space between him and Scherrit without hesitation. An overwhelming sense of warmth and gratitude washed over Thirain and he was struck by the sudden desire to stay by her side as long as he could.

"So be it," Scherrit mused, dragging Thirain's attention back to the reagent, and adjusted the sword hanging by his side. "If you want to die with Thirain, I shall grant your wish. I'm going to enjoy killing you."

Dread pierced Thirain’s heart like a cold knife at the mere utterance of such a scenario. He would rather die alone than drag Rhea down with him, but he knew better than to believe she would leave, even if he had begged. And sure enough, a symphony rang out through the expansive throne room as Rhea threw attack after attack at Scherrit, a battle more harmonious and beautiful than Thirain had ever witnessed before.

Darkness crept into the edges of his vision as he watched the two dance around the room. Thirain's knuckles were a stark white from his grip on Vanquisher, desperate to stay upright, to stave off the growing pain as the demonic energy curled its sinister fingers around his resolve. Scherrit was faster and stronger than he had been moments before, that much Thirain could tell, but Rhea had no issue keeping up. A well-timed shield here and a flourishing bloom of magic there kept Scherrit at bay, and he could feel the atmosphere shift more in her favor with each hit she landed on her opponent.

It seemed to be over in the blink of an eye - though Thirain wasn’t sure if that was just because of his wavering consciousness. Someone calling his name pulled him back from the edge and then all at once light enveloped him, permeating every inch of his being and dispelling the darkness that had threatened to drown him. When he opened his eyes this time, Armen was knelt beside him, Rhea a few steps behind. His gaze scanned the area only to fall on the dissipating form of his uncle. A moment later and all that was left of him was the flickering of dark magic in the air.

“Are you alright?” Rhea asked, eyebrows furrowed together in concern.

Before Thirain could answer, however, a thrum of laughter echoed throughout the wide space. Rhea took a step forward, readying her weapon, as the all-too-familiar demon leered, “So you managed to defeat Scherrit… quite impressive.”

“Kharmine - open the gate!” another voice boomed, vibrating through the floor and into Thirain’s bones.

“My, my; someone’s a little impatient.” The demon - Kharmine - directed a sickly sweet grin towards them before raising his hands. Suddenly, a core of dark energy expanded into an enormous portal, vines of crackling purple surrounding pure blackness. Thirain wasn’t sure what to expect, but nothing could have prepared him for the monstrosity that jumped through. “Have fun… Master Valtan.”

Armen ushered Rhea back, forming a pulsating barrier of light in front of the trio as he grunted, “A demon commander.” Why would he be here? What did a demon commander have to do with the war for Luterra?

“Why is the master of Vanquisher already wounded?” Valtan bellowed. “What happened here, Kharmine?”

“Apologies, Master Valtan. I know you wanted your vengeance,” Kharmine appealed, striding down the red carpet that followed the length of the room without a note of regret in his voice. Rhea stepped past the barrier, placing herself between the demons and her friends, and Thirain was beginning to lose count of how many times he’d witnessed this position. “But this is the one who killed Scherrit,” Kharmine continued. “Killing her should prove rather enjoyable, yes?”

Valtan’s grumble shook the rumble left behind from the battle against Scherrit. “This is not what I wanted,” the demon commander growled, “but very well. However, if you interrupt me again, I will kill you next.”

“Understood,” Kharmine placated, sounding not the least bit concerned about the prospect. “This one’s all yours; enjoy.”

With those words, Kharmine vanished in a smoky haze of black and red. Valtan’s steps were heavy, resounding, as he bee-lined for Rhea. Thirain knew she was capable, he knew she had never failed him, but that panic from before clawed at his chest with each stride. This wasn’t just any human, or even any demon - it was one of the most powerful and dangerous beings they could go up against.

Thirain wanted nothing more than to stand and fight alongside her, to carry some of the immense pressure that burdened her shoulders as she faced Valtan; but although Armen had cleansed him of the demonic energy, the pain and fatigue hadn’t subsided. Thirain attempted to push his weight onto Vanquisher only to crash back down, black spotting his vision. Armen looked back over his shoulder and shook his head; his message was clear: stay put.

It was hard to make out details through the pulsing blue of Armen’s barrier, but Thirain watched as best he could as Rhea summoned the first attack. Golden waves of magic appeared beneath Valtan’s feet, staggering him for only a moment before he swung his ax, trails of darkness following its path through the air. Thirain winced at the shrill crash of Valtan’s weapon against Rhea’s swiftly materialized shield. She darted around to his back the second the demon commander began winding up a second swing and sent out a flurry of melodic explosions of light. Valtan slashed the ax in her direction, narrowly missing.

This back and forth continued for several minutes, coating the air in a certain thickness, and Thirain found it incredibly hard to catch his breath. Neither participant had an edge over the other - it was a battle that was dangerously even.

That is, until Valtan stepped back, his voice thunderous as he laughed, “Make this more exciting for me, as Luterra did all those years ago! You’re a skilled fighter, but I’m done playing around.”

Rhea lunged towards him only to be met with a hard wall of demonic energy, Valtan throwing his entire weight back into her. A pained cry cut through the scene and Thirain watched in slow motion as Rhea tumbled backwards, scraping across the singed carpet and hard flooring. Suddenly Thirain’s body moved on its own. His pain was not important here; his fatigue was only a state of mind. Desperation and adrenaline flooded his veins and carried him onto his feet, leaning hard on Vanquisher for support.

“Stop!” Thirain yelled, wrestling for Valtan’s attention as he descended on Rhea’s unmoving body. Pushing through the ache in his bones, Thirain dashed out in front of his companion and raised Vanquisher. Its silver light reflected in his eyes, setting the blue irises aglow. “This is my fight.”

“Vanquisher! I’ve been looking forward to this.”

A breath.

Thirain leaped forward, dodging a slash of Valtan’s ax and meeting the next one with his sword. The power that emanated off of the demon commander’s form was dense, suffocating. Thirain could tell he had no chance in his weakened form and with another thrash, Valtan threw him rolling back towards Rhea. He had to get up, he had to protect her, but god, his body wasn’t responding. He forced his head up, eyes wide as Valtan’s ax plummeted towards him, and prepared for the white hot rush of pain.

It didn’t come. Armen jumped in at the last moment, summoning another shield, and Thirain could see his entire body shaking with effort. Scathing red electricity danced around the barrier, encompassing more, pushing down harder until an explosion clouded his vision with dust and rubble. When it cleared, Armen had abandoned the priestly outfit Thirain was accustomed to. His hair was paler, his body covered in black armor, as he held back Valtan’s ax with only his arms.

“A delain!” Valtan growled. “Your half-breed power pales in comp-”

His sentence was cut off as Armen ducked under the weapon and conjured a beam of red energy that blasted into Valtan and sent him stumbling backwards. Armen called his name and Thirain was ready, already climbing to his feet and running towards the demon commander. He felt Vanquisher’s power coursing through him, spurring him on, carrying him through each swing of the sword until finally Valtan lay heaving against the throne.

-

“How can we call this a victory?” Thirain addressed the growing crowd in the castle plaza. Wounded and dead lay strewn about the city. It was hard to imagine the liveliness and warmth that had cloaked Luterra Castle in his childhood, before Scheritt. He dropped to one knee, resting a closed fist against the stone. “Every drop of blood spilled here belongs to a Luterran.”

Emotion constricted his throat. Those questions that always seemed to plague him turned over in his mind: Had he made the right decisions? Was he really deserving of his position? Was all the pain and suffering worth it?

The faint sound of clicking heels pulled him back into the present and he looked up to see Rhea holding out one of their battle flags. Much like the flag, her clothes were tattered and torn, dirt scuffed across her body, and she looked tired; then she smiled. It wasn’t half-heartened or grim, but sincere, reaching all the way to her bright eyes. Those words, which he had never given much thought to, tugged at his chest. Those words which he thought he might never feel, unlocking a level of desire that was foreign to him. As his trusted partner looked back at him with kindness and patience, he was overwhelmed with the urge to tell her.

He didn’t. Instead, when Rhea raised her eyebrows in subtle encouragement, Thirain forced himself back onto his feet and tucked away the tingling sensation that ran through his body as their hands brushed.

“But there will be time to grieve later,” he continued, and nodded graciously at Rhea before turning back to his people and taking several steps forward into the plaza square. His eyes traced over the scene that remained. “Descendants of Luterra: The fight is over, but take a look around you. Many have fallen in battle. The Wall of Heroes is stained in scarlet. So we must remember what it is we fought for.

“We fought for our beloved families and a better tomorrow for our children. So raise your heads high and proud,” he declared, holding the banner higher in the air. “This is Luterra, the Kingdom of Knights. This place is a part of each and every one of us. Let us rebuild our proud history once again. Our resolve shall never waver.

“Behold, the light you have restored; the dawn of a new day.”

ii.

It was about as nice an afternoon as anyone could hope to set sail on. A few stray clouds traversed the brilliant blue of the sky and a gentle breeze rustled the trees. No rain seemed to be on the horizon - it would be smooth sailing.

The last several days had been hectic. Rebuilding and getting Luterra’s affairs in order took up the bulk of his time, but Rhea’s departure and dealing with the sudden pirate situation had guaranteed little time for rest. It wasn’t until the previous night’s farewell festivities that Thirain took more than ten minutes to simply exist.

Wavestrand’s tavern had been abuzz with excitement, its lantern light casting a soft yellow glow on the port into the wee hours of the morning. It was mostly an excuse for knights and civilians alike to drink and relax, but Thirain didn’t mind - they had earned it, after all. He relished in the friendly atmosphere. And if Rhea’s flushed cheeks and quick jokes had been the focus of his attention all evening, no one was any wiser.

A smile tugged at the corners of Thirain’s mouth as Meehan gave his well-wishes to Rhea. He shook her hand and bowed his head slightly, but when she moved on to Cassleford, Meehan’s composure cracked just the faintest amount, clearing his throat and readjusting his armor.

Thirain understood. No one wanted to say goodbye. Rhea had been with them for months, absent only when requested for help. After spending everyday together during the war, even those brief trips left Thirain with an acute sense of emptiness. She was a vital part of their team - their family. And Thirain would be lying if he said she hadn’t brought a special sort of comfort whenever she was around.

Upon waving once more to Cassleford, Rhea’s gaze caught on Thirain and she made her way over, fingers intertwined behind her back. A teasing smile played on her lips and Thirain couldn’t help but smile back as he said, “All ready to go?”

“I’m just missing a couple bulky knights that won’t seem to fit in my bags,” she hummed, earning a chuckle.

“I’d join you if I could,” Thirain assured her; and he meant it. There was a corner of his heart that yearned to follow her, to feel the rush of a new experience each day. But his duty was here.

Rhea nodded knowingly. “That’s okay. I’ll keep you updated on all my adventures; of course, not so much to make you jealous.”

“Hey, no holding out on me,” Thirain scolded, but his eyes were warm. He exhaled slowly and was surprised to feel it shake. Rhea seemed to take notice, expression softening into something more serious, more sorrowful.

She moved to the stone railing overlooking the water, her eyes far off, and Thirain stepped up next to her. Perhaps it was the sunlight or maybe the impending goodbye, but with her hair gently stirred by the wind and the ethereal glow of her skin, he thought she looked extraordinarily beautiful at that moment. It was impossible to tear his eyes away.

“I’ll be back,” she said after a beat, meeting his gaze with a modest smile. “And in the meantime, I’ll write.”

“I know, but your absence will be quite strange, I admit,” Thirain responded earnestly.

“It will. You know,” she pondered, leaning her arms on the banister and surveying the ocean once more, “I always planned for my time in Luterra to be temporary. I knew my journey would take me far beyond these shores. Yet I find myself today feeling as if I’m leaving home.”

Thirain’s heart clenched. Home. “I’m glad to hear that. Rest assured, you always have a home here.”

“Someone gifted me a stronghold, after all, so I’m quite assured," Rhea chuckled, shooting him a teasing glance. Then the bittersweetness carried on the wind seemed to sweep her up again and her features fell into something wistful. "I'm going to miss you all."

"Not nearly as much as Luterra will miss you, I reckon." Not as much as I will miss you. "As sad as I am to say goodbye, at least I get to see you off."

“I appreciate you making the time. I know you have many responsibilities to take care of here,” she said, and he caught her unspoken words, that she understood he needed to stay and rebuild, as much as they both would prefer to remain together. Likewise, she had responsibilities of her own that kept her from residing in Luterra any longer. Perhaps in another lifetime, destiny wouldn’t pull them apart.

Still, as she looked kindly up at him, pink eyes bright and earnest, he knew he would have cleared his schedule a hundred times over to see her one last time. The kingdom would just have to wait for a day. “Of course.”

“Well, I’d better grab the last of my things. Thank you for everything, Thirain,” she murmured, placing a delicate hand on his armor for just a moment. “Please take care of yourself.”

“You as well. I’ll be thinking of you.”

Rhea turned away with a small smile and wave, and those words came to Thirain’s mind once again. He played through the scenario in his mind: taking hold of her wrist, the surprised look she’d give him as she stopped and waited for him to say something. He envisioned the weight that would lift off his chest at speaking those words out loud, somewhere beyond the far recesses of his dreams. And maybe she would say them back. Maybe saying goodbye would hurt less if she did.

But Thirain blinked and her sakura hair was lost in the crowd. And half an hour later when he stood at the port, waving back to her, the ache hadn't subsided. People cheered for her, praising the hero of Luterra, asking her to come visit and wishing her the best, but it was all a faint hum in the background. As the water carried his knight away, he couldn't do anything but watch.

He knew she would be back, that it was only temporary, but with each meter that separated them, the farewell felt more final. A priest’s cloak and cobblestone dyed red flashed behind his eyes. Nothing was guaranteed - that much he had learned in this life. That familiar anxiety crawled into his chest.

By the time her ship was indiscernible from the horizon, Thirain was sure that a piece of his heart was stowed away on that boat with her.

iii.

My Treasured Knight,

Your stories never cease to captivate me. I’m not quite sure whether you have good or bad luck to find yourself in the midst of trouble as soon as you step foot in Port Krona, but I do know that they themselves are lucky to have you there. Moreover, I’m glad to hear that you are unharmed.

Thirain let out a sigh, mindful of the wet ink as he rested his elbows on the mahogany desk of his study. He scanned the dim room, lit only by a candle on the corner of his desk; the window behind him was dark as the city slept. His gaze pointedly avoided the several crumbled pieces of parchment sitting at the bottom of the waste bin.

His body ached for sleep, eyes and limbs heavy, but this was the only free time he got; the only quiet, uninterrupted, undisturbed. There was so much to do everyday to rebuild, so many people who requested his presence. He was happy to oblige and oversee every responsibility that he’d accepted when he claimed the throne, yet these nights he relished, no matter how unsustainable they were.

Rhea’s letter had arrived earlier that day, updating him on her most recent travels to North Vern. She hadn’t written in several weeks, and he hadn’t seen her face in even longer, so a wave of relief washed over Thirain at finally reading her elegant handwriting once again. The moment he retired to his study, he’d pulled out her correspondence and prepared to draft his own, only to find that the right words eluded him tonight. They often did where it concerned his adventuring knight.

After a few moments watching the licks and dips of the candle flame, Thirain picked up the pen and continued.

I have always wanted to visit Vern; I suppose I have always wanted to visit everywhere. I imagine there is much I could learn from a people who have lived so much longer than I have. Perhaps when things have calmed down, you could give me a personal tour. In the meantime, just say the word and I will offer any help you need.

Thirain thought about that a lot when his mind would drift off - what would happen when things calmed down; if they calmed down. He pictured boarding that ship with Rhea and visiting each continent, each island she had encountered in her journey. He envisioned the adrenaline coursing through his veins as they fought side by side, the fulfillment of securing diplomatic relations, and the warmth of her company. It would not be shadowed by the threat of demons and monsters, by the imminent fight for this world; it would be freedom.

As much as he wished to join her even now, Thirain knew Rhea’s journey wasn’t for enjoyment. Pressure weighed on her shoulders just as it did his own. Perhaps that was one of the reasons he felt so drawn to her, because she could understand, because one day she could breathe in that freedom with the same reverence as him.

Our rebuilding efforts are going well here, Thirain wrote slowly, pondering each word before committing it to the page. It is thanks to you that we are able to create a better future. I think you will be pleased to see the difference the next time you are able to visit; and I, in turn, will be pleased to see you alive and well. You are more capable than anyone, I do know this, but I will always worry for such a dear friend.

The words Thirain truly meant rattled in the back of his mind. I am haunted by your absence. My dreams are filled with your smile; my nightmares, your demise. They’d bled onto the page unintentionally more than once, now discarded and adding to the small pile of crumpled parchment. Those other words, the ones that thrummed with each heartbeat in Rhea’s presence and ached in her glaring absence, hung on the tip of his pen. They would be so easy to write, too easy.

Thirain’s hand was still until he was sure the urge had passed.

As always, please let me know if you need anything at all. I eagerly await our next chance to catch up so that I may hear the true depth of your many stories. Stay well and stay safe.

Yours,

Thirain

iv.

"I'd say overall, it turned out pretty well; shipwreck aside."

Thirain let out a disbelieving laugh, shaking his head good-heartedly as he and Rhea walked through the castle plaza. The sun was unrelenting today, causing drops of sweat to bead on his forehead and under the layers of armor Meehan insisted he still wore out. Rhea was more suited for the weather in a thigh-length white dress; and although it felt a thousand degrees to Thirain, she looked comfortable, radiant. "Shipwreck aside is a rather large oversight."

"Nonsense, why let something like that spoil the adventure? Perhaps Regulus just saw I needed to spend some time in a tropical paradise," she chuckled, then looked pointedly at him. "You could really use a visit there now that the demon situation has been handled; particularly the hot springs. When's the last time you took a break?"

"I'm taking a break at this very moment. Now tell me, do I need to shipwreck, as well?"

"Of course; it's part of the experience."

“So be it. I must say, one would think ships are easy to come by with how much you insist on sinking them,” Thirain teased.

Rhea's laugh was a pleasing melody all its own, and Thirain couldn't help but join in. Always merciful, she took notice of the warm flush across his face and waved him over to a nearby bench, generously shaded by an arvo tree. His eyes fell on her as they sat down inches apart, and he was all too aware of the way her presence soothed the tempest of anxiety that had become one of Thirain's closest companions. She was alive. She was well. She was also, he couldn’t help but notice, more beautiful each time he saw her.

“I’m sorry,” Rhea entreated as she reigned in her laughter, holding her hands up in surrender. “It’s truly just bad luck; though I admit, I find myself curious how many times I can get away with procuring a new vessel from you.”

“I suppose we’ll have to see which one of us caves first, then.”

“It certainly won’t be me,” she shrugged, but after a moment, her playful grin was replaced by a frown, and she leveled a scolding gaze. “In all seriousness, you do need a break. You’re going to burn yourself out at this rate, Thirain.”

"There's too much to be done for a proper break," Thirain said, and let his eyes track a small group of knights talking animatedly with one another as they headed towards the castle. In the other direction, a pair of children ran through the plaza; an older woman followed after them, carrying a woven basket full of various breads and fruits and vegetables. It was peaceful in the city now, but the ruined warzone was still seared behind his eyes. “You know, I’ve been giving a lot of thought as to why I’m so reluctant to seek out a wife.”

He felt Rhea’s watchful eye - patient, but engaged.

“The men surrounding my father were… the unscrupulous sort. They were all envious of him and wanted the throne for their own. When I, the heir, was born, I became a threat to them, to their ambitions. Those once-loyal advisors worked tirelessly in the shadows to destroy my family,” Thirain explained, the memories hazier now than they had once been, but still accompanied by that twisting of dread in his gut. “Scherrit succeeded; and all of Luterra paid the price.”

Rhea’s hand came to rest on his own, and he wished more than ever that he had discarded the armor before their walk. He looked back at her, at the earnest expression that softened her features as she raised her eyebrows, prompting him to continue.

“When Meehan suggested I start my own family, all I saw was the cycle of betrayal and pain beginning again; but I see now the people around me are different than the ones who surrounded my father. Meehan working tirelessly to see me happy. Cassleford, who is always brutally honest, even to a fault.

“And you,” Thirain paused, smiling softly at the woman beside him as a familiar light washed over his very being, “my treasured knight. I struggle to find the words that express how important you are to me.”

It wasn’t entirely true. Even now, in the quiet warmth of this summer afternoon, the exact words that described what she meant to him echoed in his heart, a constant and faithful beat. They danced on the edge of his tongue, never managing to take the leap; but they wanted to. He wanted to.

Yet it wasn't simple for them. He had responsibilities, and so did she. The thought of speaking his feelings out loud, of figuring out what could exist between them, felt impossible. And perhaps even if nothing stood in the way, who was to say she felt the same?

So what he settled on was, “Someday, when Luterra is rebuilt and you have finished your quest… maybe then we will both be free enough to say those words to one another,” as his gaze drifted off to the plaza once again. He didn’t dare try to gauge whether she had understood.

Rhea was quiet for a few moments, then hummed, “Those words being, ‘Will you visit the Punika hot springs with me?’ I’m presuming.”

Thirain blinked at her, a surprised laugh escaping his lips, and nodded as he said, “Precisely.” He could’ve sworn, though, that her easy smile didn’t quite reach her eyes. “When Luterra is stable, then I will take some time for myself. A trip to Punika with you sounds exceptionally nice; shipwreck and all.”

“I’m holding you to that,” Rhea asserted lightheartedly, removing her hand from his. After a moment, her voice softened. “I am happy you’ve found some closure here. Do remember, though, that you deserve to take care of yourself.”

“I could tell you the same thing.”

“Suddenly I cannot hear,” Rhea lamented. Her eyelashes fluttered as she looked up at Thirain, the picture of innocence, and gestured hopelessly at her ears. “Whatever will I do, my dear King, Your Royal Highness, savior of Luterra and rightful heir to the throne?”

“How convenient,” Thirain chuckled, rolling his eyes. “I’m going to tell the gods to take your gift of speech as well next time you address me so formally.”

Rhea gasped. “He has a dark side, too!”

v.

Thirain was tired. Exhaustion ached in his very bones. He wasn’t sure how long it had been since he’d last slept; perhaps only 24 hours, maybe longer. The only thing he knew for sure was that it felt like a lifetime ago. He’d been on high alert the moment he set foot in Vern - before, even; the journey over had provided sparse and fitful nights of sleep, the quiet moonlight only serving to enhance his anxiety rather than provide any peace and comfort. And once his knights had reached the continent, there was simply no time for rest. Yes, he was beyond tired.

Yet sleep was unattainable, hanging just out of reach. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw the bloodshed again, felt that reverberation through his limbs as the tower of darkness collided with Arkesia; he saw hundreds upon hundreds of demons barreling towards them, towards Rhea. She was always smiling, always hopeful, but as those chains descended from the roiling dark sky, she looked terrified.

“I’ll climb one of those chains myself if I have to,” she’d said once they returned to the castle. “Take them by surprise.” But the dullness of her eyes as she tried to smile played on repeat in his mind. He had never seen it before; or maybe he’d just missed it. He wasn’t sure which scared him more.

The amulet in Thirain’s pocket suddenly felt very heavy, and he pulled it out, regarding the cool metal carefully.

Shandi had walked him through using the communication device. It connected all of the leaders involved in their budding alliance with some sort of magic, although it didn’t come quite as intuitively to him as it did to the Sylvains.

“Direct the magic where you want it to go,” Shandi had explained several days ago. “It’s just a conductor, you need to actually command the thing."

Thirain considered slipping it back into his pocket and futilely returning to the battleground that was falling asleep, but there was that feeling - that invisible tug pulling him towards Rhea. She was strong. She was most likely okay. But he couldn’t let go of the vision of her surrounded by enemies, blood and dirt caking her skin, or that look in her eyes.

So he sat up in the ship cabin's bed, scrubbing a hand through his hair and down his face in a hopeless attempt to look a bit more alive. Thirain closed his eyes, focusing on the weight of the device in his hand, on the energy emanating off of it, and repeated what he had practiced - harness the magic, visualize where you want it to go, then send it. Upon opening his eyes, the amulet was now pulsing with a faint blue light; he'd established the connection, but whether Rhea answered was a different matter.

A part of him didn't expect her to. After all, she had been fighting days before Thirain ever arrived; he couldn't imagine how exhausted she was, even compared to himself. Rhea had been at the port to see him off several hours ago, but if Regulus was truly feeling kind tonight, he would've sent her to sleep right after. And with each passing moment, Thirain became more sure that she was resting.

However, just as he made to pick the amulet up from where he'd placed it on the bed, light flashed through the dim room and suddenly Rhea sat on the other end of the quilt; well, it was her body, her beautiful face, flickering in soft shades of blue as the magic stabilized. She was wearing what looked to be a lightweight nightdress, bunched between her crossed legs, her hair down and tousled just a bit.

Rhea blinked. Then scrunched her brows. "Did something happen?"

Thirain felt a weight slide off his shoulders upon hearing her voice. He gave an apologetic smile as he said, "No, I'm sorry to cause you any concern." He paused, considering his words. "I more so wanted to see if you were doing okay."

"I'm just as okay as I was when you saw me two hours ago," she chuckled, and he noted the way her body relaxed.

"You know I can't help but worry," Thirain said. Rhea nodded, amusement tugging at her lips. "I'm surprised you aren't asleep; did I wake you?"

"No, I'm not sure anything will be able to wake me when I finally get to rest," she said. Then she glanced down at where her fingers were fidgeting with the hem of her dress. Thirain saw that look again, faraway and dull. "I'm not quite able to fall asleep. Perhaps all the excitement of the last few days has yet to leave my body."

Excitement was certainly one word for it. "I understand," Thirain murmured, catching her eye when she looked back up. "Do you want to talk about it?"

"Oh, no, it's perfectly fine," she assured and waved her hands in dismissal. That weary smile was on her face again, clawing at his heart. "We're going to figure it all out, we'll be okay. I will make sure of it."

Even as the words left her mouth, Thirain swore he saw her lips quiver and her shoulders droop. He hated it.

"When I close my eyes, I see all the blood again, hear the swords and the yelling," he said. Her eyes were big as she watched him, an ethereal blue where he was used to seeing pink. Maybe if he opened up, she would too. "It still makes my heart pound like I'm in the middle of battle all over again. That's why I can't sleep. Well, partially."

"What's the other part?"

"You."

The soft hair framing her face swayed gently as Rhea tilted her head. "What do you mean?"

"You already know. I worry," Thirain said with a soft smile. She opened her mouth to argue - he knew she would, and he cut her off before any words escaped. "You have always been there for me. You have listened to any and all my concerns. Please, let me be there for you, too."

Thirain could see her considering, could see the resolve - the wall she had built up - wavering. For several moments, silence hung in the air between them. He felt the slight lurching of the ship, a soothing rhythm of up and down that normally would lull him to bed. Then she sighed, her shoulders sinking further down as she looked to the side.

"I'm just sorry I failed everyone."

Thirain stared at her for a moment, letting the words sink in. “I - what? Why do you think that?”

“It’s my responsibility to keep everyone safe and I failed. They were one step ahead and we can’t afford that, I can’t afford that. One wrong move and we lose countless innocent lives. So I am just incredibly sorry for letting you down.” She brought her hands up to rub her eyes, shaking her head just a bit. “It should’ve been Armen doing this, not me. It should be him.”

“Rhea,” Thirain breathed, reaching out to grab her wrist and watching helplessly as the magic rippled around his fingers. He settled for resting his hand between them on the sheets. “The safety of our world is a burden we all share right now. This loss is on my shoulders as much as it is on yours.”

She uncovered her face, looking back at him with silver-lined eyes and a faint smile, and a little piece of his heart broke. “No, Thirain; the arks, the gods, Regulus - whoever it was, they chose me, they gave me this responsibility. Me, and me alone. What we’ve lost falls on me; not you, not any of you.”

“You’re mistaken.”

“Thirain-”

“I may be young and I may be unsure sometimes, but I am sure of this - you are a blessing to us. You are kind beyond words and intelligent in a way I hope one day to be. The gods were right in choosing you to lead us towards a brighter future. But being a leader does not mean you are alone,” Thirain said, his body leaning towards her, yielding to that incessant urge to be closer. “We are with you. I am with you.”

There were really no words that could do justice to the way Rhea had saved not only him, but countless others; to describe her commitment to bettering the world, to fulfilling whatever role the gods asked of her. Not a single soul in this world was perfect, but when Thirain looked at her, he thought she was probably as close as anyone would ever come. When he looked at her, those words - dangerous, but oh so warm - brushed against his mind. He could only hope that she saw a glimmer of that in his eyes, felt it in the sentences he desperately tried to string together for her.

“I’m sorry,” she murmured and reached out to place her hand next to his. That gentle hum of magic against his skin was a mere ghost, a whisper of what could be. She left it only for a moment before withdrawing. "For burdening you any further. I will be okay, of course. And rest assured that I am still dedicated to protecting this world."

“I never doubted that," Thirain said, then tried for a smile. "Although if you apologize one more time, I may just take away your stronghold."

He had never been so relieved to hear her laughter, however faint it was. "Well it's hard to argue with that. It won't happen again, your Royal Highness."

"Now you're simply asking for it."

They both laughed, chasing away the tension, the darkness, the demons pawing at the edges of their minds. After a few moments, Rhea's laughter turned into a yawn, and she stretched her arms over her head theatrically before looking back at Thirain. "I think it's been more than 72 hours since I last slept."

"I won't keep you any longer then," he said with an apologetic smile. After a beat, he added, "It will be okay. We are facing this destiny together."

Thirain could still see the remnants of shadows on her face, that heaviness tugging at her soul, but it was better. It was manageable. And as she gave him an earnest, if tired, smile, that familiar light filtered through. "Thank you. Goodnight, Thirain."

"Goodnight, Rhea."

Then she fiddled with the amulet hanging around her neck and her ethereal image dissipated in the air, leaving the cabin in darkness. Thirain sighed, long and slow, breathing out all the feelings she woke up within him, all the visions of what could be that played out behind his eyelids when he closed them. He breathed them out, willing his body to relax, and succumbed to the sleep wrapping around his consciousness.

And if there was one grievance that could be had for bone-aching exhaustion, it was the fact that he crashed too hard and too deep to dream of Rhea's touch.

i.

“How is she doing? Any change?”

The soft voice broke the silence that had settled in the room and pulled Thirain’s eyes up from his book and to where Nineveh hovered just inside the doorway. Her expression was kind, as it always was, though marred by the edges of concern and exhaustion he was sure they all carried with them right now.

Thirain glanced at the young woman in the bed to his left, at Rhea - eyes shut, body still save for the gentle rise and fall of her chest. That subtle movement, the quiet sound of her breaths, had been the only thing that could lull him to sleep the past several days; of course, it never lasted. There was a permeating fear every time he closed his eyes that those small inhalations would halt and he wouldn’t know.

After a moment, he forced his gaze back to Nineveh and managed a small smile. “No change, but she’s hanging in there.”

“I see,” the sidereal hummed, taking a few more steps in to stand at the end of the bed, her hands resting on the intricate wood footboard. “She looks well. I’m sure she’ll wake soon.”

“Yes, she’ll be okay. She’s strong.”

“And you? How are you?” Nineveh turned her eyes to him knowingly.

He wasn’t sure what gave his state away; perhaps it was the purple smudged under his eyes, or the book he seemed to make no progress in, or maybe it was the fact that he had hardly moved from the chair since Rhea had been brought to this bed. He’d worn the same plain trousers and shirt for days and he was convinced when he finally got up, the lines of his body would be permanently sunk into the plush cushions beneath him.

Physically, Thirain was fine. He’d only sustained minor injuries in the fight, which had been quickly tended to by the resident healers. Mentally might be another story, but regardless, he said, “I’m okay."

Nineveh pondered his response for a moment, then glanced back to Rhea and smiled faintly as she said, "Rhea is one of my dearest friends, you know. She has been by my side as often as anyone could ask, so I dare say I know her rather well. And I think she would want us all to be taking care of ourselves in the meantime." A beat, then she gave him one last warm look and said, "Do let us know if she wakes," before heading back out the door.

"Of course," Thirain murmured to her retreating figure.

He dragged his attention back to the book in his lap - a detailed history of Arthetine. Typically, he would be enthralled, archiving every event, every fact and piece of technology would be novel and exciting; but as it stood, he’d read the same sentence upwards of four times now and had yet to absorb it. He scanned the page, moving across each line out of habit, but his mind’s eye played a scene different to the one being told in the text.

-

Thirain had lost count of how many times he’d relived that day, that fight. He was in the midst of fighting a demon, no more than a minion, when his vision had exploded with light. It was only for a moment, blinding him temporarily, but there was never a second of confusion; he knew exactly what it was.

Once the light had subsided, Thirain blinked several times, clearing his vision, and looked in the direction he had last seen Rhea engaged in battle with the demon commander. She had her back to him, her slender form still set in a defensive position with her harp at the ready in front of her, but the demon was on its knees. A wave of relief crashed through Thirain, despite the pulsating black portal that appeared behind the pair and seemed to envelop the being before they could think to detain it or finish it off.

Rhea had done it. Not that he had ever truly doubted her - he had more faith in her abilities than anything else in this life, more steadfast and sincere than even his trust in the gods. And yet, there was always that worry, that pinprick of anxiety that she could slip away from him. But she had done it.

Thirain felt the shift in the air just in time to block an attack from the demon in front of him, which had thrown its entire weight in his direction only to be met with the unforgiving edge of Vanquisher and Thirain slashed right through its dark and sickly body. As the demon disintegrated into a red and black dust, drifting into the air to mix with the thousands of its kind that had met a similar fate, Thirain raised his sword in the air, voice grating against his tired throat as he shouted, “The fight is ours! Let us take this home!”

The resounding call filled his heart. With a newfound rush of energy and more than his fair share’s worth of adrenaline zipping through his veins, Thirain renewed his push through the army of minion demons. It wasn’t an overwhelming amount that remained, but they had needed to keep them at bay, keep them away from Rhea, away from the true fight. Now he was reinvigorated, cutting through them like vines in a thick forest.

In a split second between demons, Thirain had glanced around, expecting to see a flash of pink hair somewhere in the chaos, a beacon that stood out starkly against the dark environment. But he couldn’t find it. And when his eyes fell on the spot where Rhea had been, he realized she’d never moved. She stood exactly where the demon commander had fallen, where the portal had taken it away. But now her harp was at her side, almost dangling out of her hand, and Thirain could see the labored rise and fall of her shoulders.

There was a moment, just a split second, where the world slowed almost to a stop. It shouldn’t have been noticeable, not from that distance, not for how quick it happened, but the world slowed and Thirain saw the waver of her legs and his heart answered with an angry thudding against his chest; Go, it urged him, go, go.

Without another thought he threw back the demon that had jumped at him, slashing his sword easily, and bolted for Rhea; but she was too far and he was too slow and he watched, helpless, as her body crumpled to the ground.

He was on his knees beside her a breath later, Vanquisher on the ground at his side, looking over her body for any sign of whether she was okay, whether she was alive. She was breathing, which was a good sign, but it was shallow and quick; and when his eyes trailed down her body he saw the blooming stain of deep, rich red on her dress, spreading from somewhere on her abdomen.

“Rhea,” he breathed, voice sounding broken and hoarse even to his ears, and desperately ripped the cloak from his back to press against the wound. “Rhea, are you with me?”

There was no response. The features of her beautiful face, usually so bright with life, were unmoving; her eyes, usually glowing and warm, were firmly shut; and her dark eyelashes contrasted worryingly against the sudden pale of her skin. Had she always been so pale?

Keeping one hand firmly applying pressure to her stomach, Thirain brought his free hand, now streaked with red, up to brush back the sweat-ridden hair that stuck to her face. His fingers carefully slid down her cheek, her jaw, jostling ever so gently in an attempt to wake her.

She did not wake.

Panic had dug its claws into his chest, tearing and ripping right through his resolve, his wall of professionalism he tried to maintain in front of his men. Thirain’s eyes frantically scanned the area around him, searching, searching, for any sign of one of the healers he knew were floating throughout the battlefield. When he saw none, he called out as loud as he could, “We need a healer! We need support - now!”

The acknowledgements that his request was heard and echoing amongst his men was only a buzz in the background, his heartbeat too deafening in his ears to hear much of anything else. And as the battle neared its end around him, Thirain could only repeat, quiet as the leaves shuddering in the breeze:

“We still need to go to Punika. Please - we have not yet been to Punika.”

-

Thirain blinked and saw the words on the page again. A long, slow sigh escaped his lips as he wondered how long he’d simply been staring at the same line, how long he’d been caught up in that haunting scene. He brought a hand up to rub at his forehead, scrub down his eyes and face and ground him back in reality.

Rhea was warm and safe, tucked into the plush linens beside him, Thirain had to remind himself over and over. She was safe. She was alive. She may have been very close to not being so, but she was here, nonetheless.

He exhaled another faint sigh, unable to help it, as he forced his eyes to start the paragraph again; but he’d hardly read more than a dozen words when a quiet voice murmured somewhere to his left, “Must not be a very satisfying read, if I’m to interpret all those heavy sighs.”

It was like the world froze. Thirain sucked in a breath, casting his gaze up to where Rhea had been sleeping - and there were those eyes, so bright, so pink. They were half-lidded, struggling to stay open, but those were her eyes and it had been so long since they’d hinted even a sliver of the warm color within.

A breathless laugh bubbled up from his chest as her words sunk in. “I’ve certainly read better.”

“Pity,” Rhea hummed, tilting her head towards him minutely with the ghost of a smile. “I will find a suitable suggestion for your next.”

“How are you feeling?” Thirain asked, unable to hold it back to indulge her sweet small talk any further, and placed the book onto the small table in front of his chair. “Are you in any pain?”

Rhea was silent for a moment, contemplative, and seemed to gather enough energy to slide up in the bed, readjusting herself so she was closer to sitting up. A wince flashed across her face, though she tried to hide it as quickly as she could, and Thirain was on his feet and at the bedside in a moment.

“I am fine,” she insisted regardless, waving a tired hand in his direction. He didn’t get the chance to argue before her eyes fell on his makeshift home for the last several days, tracing the blanket laid haphazardly across the arm of the chair and the documents sprawled out on the table from when he’d attempted to get work done. “Tell me you haven’t been camped out here.”

Thirain furrowed his brows, though a soft smile tilted up at the corners of his lips. “Of course I have. You have tended to me and been by my side more times than I could ever count; the least I could do is make sure you are okay in return.”

“Well I do not expect anything in return,” she corrected, her voice warm, soothing his nerves and the anxiety that had prodded at him since the battle. “And I’m quite sure you have plenty of more important tasks begging for your attention.”

“None more important than this.”

Rhea considered his words for a moment, then smiled. “I find that hard to believe, but your consideration is appreciated. I would be lying if I said waking to your face did not ease my mind, after all.”

It was so casually and effortlessly sweet, tugging at his heart and bringing what Thirain hoped was only the faintest of warmth to his cheeks. Perhaps she had not meant it in any way beyond comfortability around a close companion, a friend who had been through so much alongside her, but he could not stop the image it conjured in his mind - her face, kind and relaxed and tired as she woke up next to him in a bed meant for two. She certainly had a way of bringing those types of thoughts to the forefront.

Evidently, Rhea was unbothered by his quiet or simply kind enough to move on, as she glanced towards the door and asked, “Is everyone okay? How did the battle turn out?”

“Yes, everyone is perfectly alright - thanks to you,” Thirain assured and took a seat on the edge of the bed.

Rhea watched, then, as Thirain carefully slipped his hand under hers and brought her knuckles to his lips. His eyes slid closed and he kept her hand held there for a long moment, reverent. It was more direct contact than he had ever had with her, finally feeling her skin against his own, warm and smooth and a firm reminder that she was alive, here with him. He did not ever want to let go.

After a beat, he placed their hands back on the bed, though he did not remove his gentle grip on her. His gaze held on that connection, studying each line and curve, each distinct feeling it lit up within him.

“Are you alright?” Rhea murmured softly. “What is it?”

Silence enveloped the room, patient and comfortable, as Thirain thought of how to express everything that had been burning a hole in his very core for longer than he could remember now. Finally, he brought his attention back up to her beautiful face and said, “I thought I had lost you.”

“Thirain,” she began, his name sounding heavenly when it fell from her lips, but he shook his head and she waited.

“I thought I had lost you,” Thirain repeated, “for a moment on that battlefield. You were bleeding and you were not responding to any of my words, any of my touches, and I thought that perhaps it would be too late by the time a healer could get to you. I considered what I could do, of course, and where I could bring you to ensure your safety; I felt guilt at not having protected you, anger at whoever had done it. But more than anything, I realized - I realized that you would be gone and I would never have told you that I am irrevocably in love with you.”

Oh, how that weight lifted off his shoulders; he had never felt lighter, more free. Rhea’s eyes widened, so earnest and full of life, and her fingers curled around his in a way that sent electricity through his body, but she did not interrupt.

“I do not expect you to feel the same way - I certainly could never hold it against you - and I do not expect any response. But I believe that I would break in a most unrepairable way if I never said it, if you left and had never heard it. So thank you, for listening, and I deeply apologize if I have caused any discomfort. You are my dearest friend, regardless of your feelings on this matter, and I do not need any change. I just needed you to know.”

That silence returned for a moment, this time a bit more uncomfortable on Thirain’s end, but then Rhea moved. She turned their hands over and brought his knuckles, this time, to her own lips. Her kiss was dizzying, hot, burning against his skin in the most pleasant way. And when she placed her other hand on his forearm, using her grip to urge him closer, he couldn’t have resisted even with a sword held to his neck.

Their lips met for the very first time and Gods, hers were so soft, so warm, more inviting and intoxicating than they ever had been in his dreams - and that said quite a lot.

He felt like something inside him was falling into place, connecting and making him whole for perhaps the first time in his life. Suddenly every reason why he had held back from saying anything melted away, inconsequential. Nothing could warrant not kissing her, not holding her.

And though he thought he could not feel better, could not fly higher, she managed to exceed all expectations and sent him soaring when she whispered those words that had been suspended on own his tongue for far too long.