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Everything after the banquet is a blur.
Koray knows he leaves the Scions behind, that he's bid to by Minfilia, that he couldn't come up with another option that wouldn't leave him at best wounded- or worse, dead. He was so grateful to see Alphinaud safe that he clutched the boy to him at first before it was time to move and put as many malms between them and the resulting witch hunt as possible.
They could only walk for so long, with Alphinaud unused to the hard, off-road trek that Koray had led them on through Thanalan’s brush, eyes burning in the night, tireless as he walked, and walked. To his credit, Alphinaud fared… better than Koray expected. For lack of a better phrase. He stumbled along until the early light of dawn, silent, stunned. Gods, and seventeen, nearly eighteen now, seems so impossibly young. Koray doesn’t feel that much older at twenty-three, but Alphinaud was still so small when he stumbled for the last time, when Koray gathered him into his arms to carry him the rest of the way.
“I can stay awake,” Alphinaud insisted. His body trembled. Like a colt, shaking from exhaustion. Small and slight and utterly rattled from the way his world has changed.
“I know,” Koray said, meaning it. He knew Alphinaud would push himself until he actually collapsed, crumpled like a wet rag. “But I can keep going too, and it’s still a long ways until we get to safety. Please, rest.”
Putting up a token protest, Alphinaud didn’t take much coaxing after all, falling into an uneasy, restless slumber, breath puffing against Koray’s neck. He wasn’t even heavy. Or, if he was, Koray didn’t notice.
He moved like a man possessed. Tireless. Or wishing he was, anyways. Exhaustion seemed distant, but the world around him swam with every blink, tilting dangerously. Koray reached for his aether to sustain him, the wellspring of energy usually so near to him, only to find there to be- starkly, nothing. Instead of a vast lake, there was but a pond. Barely enough for him to cup his hands in.
Midgardsormr may have had more of a point than he thought.
Eventually the trek caught up to him. He took shelter uneasily near Camp Bluefog on the edge of the Sea of Spires during the height of day, his cloak spread over himself and a still-slumbering Alphinaud to protect them from the worst of the sun. Brendt’s carriage had been a welcome boon, getting them to Black Brush with a strong head-start, but it was only a matter of time for the chase to begin with renewed fervor once the guards caught wind that they had fled further afield. As he waited, sun high overhead and sky a searing blue, Koray had nothing left to do but to think.
He wanted, with startling clarity, to go home.
Just as startling, Koray realized that he didn't know where that was anymore.
Any ease he had found in Ul’dah and the Waking Sands had been utterly shattered. Crossing the sea back to Othard and the open, sprawling skies of the Azim Steppe was too impossible to even contemplate. He couldn’t bring Alphinaud there. He couldn’t face his grandmother, Bolormaa, either. Koray hadn’t, hasn’t, done anything he left to accomplish. He can’t return yet. He can't just leave. He can't stay, either. He doesn't know where to go.
(He knows… where he wants to go. A cold place with a warm bed and a warmer heart. Does he dare, though? After everything that's just happened, is he still welcome?)
That's where Cid finds them, nearly to Mor Dhona and the safety Revenant's Toll arguably promises. His airship is a welcome sight.
"Is the Rising Stones safe?" Koray asks after he has some water, a tired, groggy Alphinaud tucked against him.
Cid's mouth pulls into a flat line. Wordlessly, he shakes his head. Then, he seems to rally. "Luckily for you, that's not the only place you have allies."
Oh, Koray thinks. His heart thuds unevenly. Hopeful. "Let's go then. No need to tarry and get caught."
And when they turn north, north, and the wind gets ever colder, Koray allows himself to wonder if there is a safe haven for him after all.
Camp Dragonhead is a relief. After safely passing off Alphinaud to rest and tearfully hugging Tataru, Koray finds himself standing in a too-quiet room. His head rings with the silence, the lack of movement odd now, his body so used to the churn of motion that stillness feels wrong even with exhaustion weighing him down. He should-
(Turn around. Go back. He never should have left. If he had simply stayed there, surely there would have been something he could have done? He doesn't even know if the others are all safe or - and he shudders to think it, clutching at the strap across his chest to quell his queasy, pounding heart - if they're even alive. He should have been able to do something.)
"My love."
Koray sucks in a breath like a man surfacing from deep water, and he doesn't even get to turn around before a warm pair of arms encircle his waist. He sags backwards into Haurchefant's hold. Gratitude, the kind Koray doesn't have any words to explain, wells up within him.
There's a touch at his neck. The brush of breath and lips.
“Tis perhaps presumptuous of me,” Haurchefant says, almost bashful even with his strident tone. “But I thought that we might share quarters. Thus, I directed my subordinates to bring you here.”
Koray blinks slowly, letting out a long sigh as he relaxes into Haurchefant's steady hold. The gesture eases some small, hunched-shoulder part of him that he had not recognized or given name to. “Not presumptuous at all,” he rumbles, catching Haurchefant’s hand with his own. “Appreciated, actually. Your men? They won’t mind?”
Releasing his waist but claiming Koray's hand instead, Haurchefant comes around to stand before Koray, practically rolling his eyes. He squeezes Koray’s hand. “They, I’m sure, would be more surprised should I not covet and demand your time and space like this. I have spoken of you at some length even before your recent troubles, and my soldiers are no doubt hoping for me to cease extolling your virtues.” A sly smile crosses his face, and Haurchefant nudges his shoulder against Koray’s. “Now they will instead get to experience you firsthand.”
Koray nudges him back, huffing out a laugh. “Some virtues. A wanted-”
“A falsely accused hero,” Haurchefant interrupts gently before Koray can get too much out. “My friend, my love, you are remarkable. Let it not trouble you so.”
"You're not… mad?" Koray asks. The question feels woefully insufficient.
Haurchefant's hands, which had begun to idly wander, still. Then Koray sucks in a breath, his chin cupped as Haurchefant ducks in to meet his lowered gaze, concerned blue eyes seeking out something in Koray's expression. "Mad at what, my love? You getting to me safe? I could never-"
"No, the whole…" Koray gestures, short and sharp. His tongue feels so clumsy and inadequate and he's so tired and sick with it, knowing that he can't sleep and can't rest but having no other choice because he's useless. What can Koray do in matters of state? When he's innocent but hunted by the very people he spent so long trying to protect? He shakes his head, ending up pressing his cheek firmly into Haurchefant's palm. "Situation."
"You were framed."
It hits Koray hard in the center of his chest. The certainty that Haurchefant says it is utterly emphatic, leaving no room for any doubt. He swallows. "You- No one else believes that."
"Many people believe exactly that," Haurchefant insists staunchly. "And I will make it known. Until then, you will reside with me and Ishgard's bloody non-interference policy can work in our favor for once. Until then, you will rest and I will care for you."
He leans in for a kiss. The first brush of their lips together makes Koray realize just how desparate for the simple touch he is. He all but whimpers, opening his mouth to invite more - an invitation that Haurchefant does not pass by, kissing him deeply and thoroughly, until all Koray has thought for is holding still so he does not run his horns into Haurchefant.
Caught and kept safe betwixt Haurchefant's steady hands, Koray breathes through the kisses. The quiet, wet part of their lips, the slide as Haurchefant tilts his head and shifts until he deems the kiss perfect, settling in as he brushes Koray's long tongue with his own, hot and willing. His whole world narrows to this contact.
They kiss and kiss and Koray's hands cease their tremor, and salt tinges the taste of their skin. How can it not? Koray cannot bleed enough to fix this problem, so something else will have to suffice. He cannot sweat enough. There is no work to be done at this moment. Tears are all that is left to him, and when they overtake him and he crumples, knees buckling finally, finally, Haurchefant takes him to bed. Haurchefant undresses Koray, sliding leather and linen from him and lays his head on his wooden pillow that Haurchefant has already had brought here because he presumed, rightfully, that Koray would rather be nowhere else but here.
After he draws the blankets up over Koray's shoulders, he asks, "Is there aught else I can do to help, dearheart?"
"Help me cut my hair tomorrow," says Koray muzzily. "It's a Hingan tradition but they're close enough and we've rubbed elbows enough for it to feel appropriate. For loss."
Haurchefant plays with the ends of his long hair, spread across the pillowcases, and when he leans down to kiss Koray's cheek, he murmurs, "For their loss. But we'll leave a little bit. For hope, as well."
For hope.
"That sounds nice." Koray catches Haurchefant's hand and draws him near and when sleep finally overtakes him, he feels wrung out and broken, but not without hope for the future.