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The dream starts like any other dream; with no clear beginning. It isn’t even a dream, actually.
It is a memory.
Laurent is standing at the training arena in Marlas, chest heaving with clumsy breaths as he desperately tries to fill his lungs with air. A small part of his brain registers that this is only a memory, that what has happened already happened, but the awareness slowly slides away from him until he actually believes everything is happening at the moment.
It takes only a heartbeat to realize he’s shaking with fury.
Every cell in his body is screaming at him to hurt . Hurt until he himself isn’t hurting so badly, hurt until he’s not alone in his agony anymore, hurt just for the sake of hurting.
“You fight with the tactics of a coward,” his lover says, and the viciousness those words awaken in Laurent is so great that he tastes venom at the tip of his tongue.
So; he attacks with all he has, with all the madness that consumes his body. He feels like someone else is in control of his movements as a pale hand snatches up a knife and throws it at Damen’s throat with full intent to kill.
In one universe, Damen merely knocks it out of the air with his sword and keeps advancing. In this one, the shot hits its target.
The world doesn’t stop immediately, but it slows down; like half-frozen honey being poured from a glass jar. Damen pauses, glances down like he’s not sure what just happened and then turns his gaze on Laurent; his beautiful dark brown eyes are terrified and as big as marbles. And then, without warning, blood starts flowing from his throat.
“ What–? ” Laurent spits. He wants to run towards Damen, but he feels like his feet weigh more than mountains, nailing him down to where he is. There’s nothing he can do but watch as blood turns the front of Damen’s chiton crimson. “I didn’t–Damen!– no .”
Damen opens his mouth and the wheeze that rises from his throat is the most eerie sound Laurent has ever heard. He staggers, stumbling back, and by some miracle Laurent gets control of his legs back and runs to catch him just as Damen’s body hits the floor.
“Damen,” Laurent chokes pathetically. He withdraws the knife before he even has time to think about it and pushes down on the wound with his own hands like that might help. It doesn’t. It only takes two seconds before Laurent’s hands are dyed red. “No, no, no, no, no, I didn’t–! No!”
Damen looks at him with a kind of misery Laurent hasn’t received from him before, not even when he flayed the skin off of his back. He attempts to take one last breath before resignation clouds his face and he stops struggling, closing his eyes with difficulty.
He doesn’t open them again.
Laurent continues sitting there like nothing has happened as his love bleeds and bleeds, covering both of them in his blood. He doesn’t think about how he’s just killed his strongest and only ally or how any minute a soldier might walk in and all hell would break loose.
He thinks, I’ve just murdered the only man I’ve ever loved.
Calmy, even when he knows he has no right to do so, he presses a lingering kiss to Damen’s forehead. “I’m sorry,” Laurent murmurs. “Your lover is as vicious as ever, I’m afraid. You may yell at me for it in a minute.”
Then he scoops up the knife he pulled out of Damen’s throat and slits his own throat in one smooth movement.
Laurent wakes up drenched in sweat.
He sits up shakily. A scream gets stuck in his throat but he can’t make any noise, just like Damen in his last moments. Selfishly, his hand touches the skin of his own throat first before he turns his head, almost afraid, to his right side.
Damen’s beautiful features are slack with sleep, his plump lips parted slightly, one hand under his cheek as he sleeps, body turned towards Laurent. The sight of him is so relieving that Laurent can’t stop himself from sobbing, biting his fist to muffle his sounds at the last moment, afraid of waking his husband up.
Being in Arles has always been a source of tension for them, even after five years. They tend to avoid it as much as they can, but of course there are unavoidable matters that need to be handled from time to time.
Damen always faces his time here with grace. In public, he never slips. His face doesn’t even twitch for a single moment; it is as if he hadn’t been subjected to countless inhuman humiliations for weeks in this very same palace, by the hand of this very same man who now holds his hand and calls him husband.
But at night, he doesn’t sleep. So much that Paschal has to brew some herbs to make a sleeping potion, just to make sure he gets a few hours of rest at least.
The first years, Laurent would clumsily attempt to make apologies, to explain himself, to assure Damen how much he regretted the things he did; again and again. Damen endured it as much as he could before he’d gently told Laurent he didn’t need to hear those things from him anymore, that this was something he needed to handle on his own. And Laurent could keep going, keep pushing, until he noticed the strain on Damen’s shoulders and, for the first time, thought maybe listening to Laurent’s repeated pleas was a bigger torture for him than his memories.
So he stopped.
Laurent continues sobbing as he waits for his heart to find its usual rhythm. Waking Damen up now and denying him those precious few hours of sleep would be the most selfish act possible.
But Laurent has always been a selfish man.
Slowly extending a shaking hand, he touches Damen’s smooth throat as gently as he can, just to assure himself it’s still unmarked. His sudden jolt from sleep wasn’t enough to awaken Damen, by courtesy of Paschal’s potion, but now his husband’s eyelashes flutter weakly as consciousness starts to take over.
Damen leans into the soft caress of his touch like a cat, a soft smile gracing his full lips. Laurent’s heart shatters into a million pieces.
Then, his eyes open lazily and upon noticing Laurent’s tear stricken face, Damen’s smile disappears in an instant. “What–?”
“Don’t,” Laurent says, quickly stopping him with a hand on his chest when Damen tries to stand up. His husband blinks at him owlishly, no doubt mind still clouded. “Forgive me, I interrupted your rest.”
Damen wraps his hand around his and sighs softly. “How can I rest when I know you’re in agony?”
Impossibly, Laurent’s tears start flowing more heavily. Like the pathetic, undeserving dog he is, he brings Damen’s hand to his mouth and covers it in tears and kisses.
Any other man would withdraw his hand in disgust. Damen just looks at him with sad, soft eyes. “Do you want to talk about it?”
And perhaps if it was a different time, in a different place, Laurent would. He would talk about what he dreamt of, how much of a fool he was for succumbing into his rancid anger and attempting to seriously hurt the only man he loved. How idiotic it was of him to endanger the alliance when everything depended on it.
But now, the thought of finding solace in Damen’s endless patience sickens him. He doesn’t deserve it.
He shakes his head.
Damen looks conflicted for a moment before he nods, caressing Laurent’s cheek. “What can I do for you then?”
Laurent should say “Nothing,” and urge him to go back to sleep. Instead, he opens his mouth and says, “Can I hold you?”
Damen doesn’t even hesitate for a second as he turns around, his back now facing him. Laurent slowly slides back into the bed and, shamelessly, leans his gross sweaty chest against Damen’s strong back. He holds Damen in a tight embrace that would be considered uncomfortable by anyone else but Damen only makes a happy little hum.
Laurent’s heart aches.
Burrowing his face into Damen’s hair, he fills his lungs with the clean, soapy smell of him. “Your husband is a vile, pathetic creature,” he confesses. “But he loves you more than anything in the world. He would walk through a fire for you.”
Damen stills for a moment, before he lazily slides his fingers though Laurent’s hand. “My husband is the most loveable man on this earth, actually.” he says. “And I would advise you to be respectful when you speak his name, sir. I could have you arrested for treason.”
A hysterical laugh bubbles out of Lauren’t mouth. “Could you now?”
“Yes. I will not suffer insults to His Grace. He is the love and light of my life.”
And just with one sentence from Damen, Laurent is lighter. Despite all of his destructive efforts, he still gets to keep Damen in his arms.
Damen eventually drifts back to sleep and Laurent spends the rest of the night holding him, thinking and praying and praying and praying.