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The gang celebrated yet another victory over evil, this time in Selenopolis. The supposed moon god Khonsu had kidnapped seven of the wizard's friends and allies to lure him to Krokotopia for vengeance. “Like he could ever beat you,” as Mellori said after the battle.
Ivan brought his famous stroganoff for all to eat, Pork flirted with Ishtar, Quartermane was full of himself, and Ozzy snarked. The wizard felt bad for Ceren, the poor guy seemed so out of place in this group of heroes and adventurers.
He shouldn't even be here, the wizard thought to himself. None of them should be. Khonsu was after me. The Kroks, the Luphilim, the Shadow Weavers, they were all after me. What if Khonsu-
“Something on your mind, Spellbinder?” A warm voice interrupted the wizard's thoughts. “You've been awfully quiet.”
“Oh, you know, the usual 'how am I gonna save the world this time' stuff,” the wizard lied. “Loon Knight was telling me about another 'Earthborn' who has apparently been causing problems. I wonder who she is.”
Dyvim saw straight through the wizard. No doubt he was concerned about the other so-called “Earthborn,” but they had faced worse. Something else had to be wrong.
“Arin,” Dyvim pressed. The wizard looked toward the Burrower, surprised at the sound of his name. “Please tell me what is actually bothering you.”
Arin sighed and looked over at the others. They seemed distracted enough with each other.
“I'd rather not talk about it here,” Arin turned back to Dyvim. “Mind if we go somewhere quieter?”
“Of course,” Dyvim answered. Arin led him through the Blended Grove, where the wizard's friends had all gathered to celebrate, and they stepped outside into the cool desert night of Selenopolis.
“I'll be honest,” Arin sighed. “I kind of hate Krokotopia. The air here dries my skin out. Here-” Arin grabbed Dyvim's wrist, and with a flick of his wand the environment changed around them, teleported to Arin's home. A small island floating among the spiral, with a giant hollow tree in the center. Arin let go of Dyvim to wander to a koi pond that ran against the tree.
“I suppose it figures for you to live in a giant tree,” Dyvim joked. Arin never hid his passion for theurgy.
“Do you snark like this every time someone invites you to their home?” Arin reached into a pouch on his belt to grab some food for the koi that had gathered around him. The pond rippled with activity when he scattered it.
“No, it's a service I reserve just for you.” Dyvim walked up beside the wizard, attempting to catch the eyes that were transfixed on the pond. “Now please, tell me what's bothering you.”
“Would you like some tea?”
“Arin,” Dyvim warned. It worried him that the wizard was avoiding his question. He remembered their time in Khrysalis, where they shared their dreams and nightmares, their successes and their failures. The only time he had seen the wizard so apprehensive was when they discussed what happened to Azteca.
“I'll tell you, just...” Arin trailed off. He still hadn't looked away from the pond. He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and looked at the Burrower beside him. “Let me make you some tea. I think I have some cheese, as well.”
Dyvim did like cheese. Arin led him into the house and up a ramp into a cozy room filled with mismatched chairs, tables, and even a bar in the corner. Dyvim held his tongue on the Spellbinder's interior decorating, deciding to save the comment for a lighter mood. Arin grabbed a teapot from a shelf, filled it with summoned water and tea bags, and placed it in a fireplace that was featured prominently on one wall. He flicked his wrist and the log caught fire. Two teacups floated onto the table in front of the fireplace. Dyvim took his place on a plush couch behind the table, and the wizard joined him shortly after.
The wizard stared intently at the fire, avoiding Dyvim's gaze. The mouse was quiet, waiting for Arin to speak first. Whatever was bothering him, it was important, and Dyvim wasn't going to risk scaring him away now.
After what felt like an eternity, Arin finally took a breath. “I'm sorry you got dragged into this.”
“Sorry?” Dyvim said, surprised. “Why would you be sorry? You know I'm happy to help you save whatever it is that needs saving!”
“But it's not your fight. They just used you to-” Arin paused, trying to find his words. “They used you all to get to me. They wanted me.”
“What do you mean, it's not my fight? Your enemies are mine, Spellbinder.”
The kettle whistled. Arin levitated it over to where they sat, pouring Dyvim and himself cups of tea.
“They wanted me,” Arin repeated. He picked up his cup and used a touch of ice magic to cool it to a comfortable temperature and took a sip. “I've made so many enemies.”
“Such is the way of a hero,” Dyvim responded. “You can't save the day without beating a few bad guys, hm?”
Arin sighed into his cup. “That would be fine if it only affected me. But now... Now they're hurting my friends...” He finally looked over at Dyvim. “The people I care about.”
“We were all involved in fighting them, in one way or another.” Dyvim had never seen a Krok or those flying wolves before, but he knew a Shadow Weaver when he saw one.
“And Ceren? How was he involved?”
“Yes, I suppose he was a rather odd choice.” Dyvim had no argument for that. He understood why he himself was captured, of course the Shadow Weavers hated him. Hearing the stories of the others' adventures with the Spellbinder explained their captures as well. Poor Ceren just happened to be the first wizard Arin met when he first arrived in Wizard City.
“That's the thing, it's getting out of control. Before it was just me. If things went wrong, I was the only one who faced the consequences.” Arin's gaze drifted away from Dyvim. That wasn't true, and they both knew it.
Azteca.
That damed world haunted Arin wherever he went. His worst failure. The Aztecosaurs never stood a chance. Not even the legendary Wizard could save them, no matter how hard he tried.
“Spellbinder.”
He can still see the rocks raining from the sky. The rumbling. The screaming. Gods, the screaming. It had been years, but he still had nightmares.
“Arin!” Dyvim grabbed the wizard's arm, snapping him out of his thoughts. “None of this is your fault. Don't dare blame yourself.”
Arin looked back down at his tea, thinking back to the adventures of the past. Back to the Kroks.
“I was a good kid. I did what I was told. Look at where it got me. I was a kid,” Arin's voice began to tremble.
Dyvim shifted to be closer to the wizard. “You did what you thought was right.”
“I followed orders-”
“From people you trusted,” Dyvim finished. “I know your story, Spellbinder. You stopped Malistaire from destroying the Spiral with the Dragon Titan. You were young then, yes, but you were no less a hero.”
“And now it's come back to haunt me.” Arin took a long sip of his tea, then set the cup back on the table. “Khonsu was right. I'm an outsider, an invader, an 'Earthborn.' I wander the spiral, lifting up rebellions and quashing empires, without a care for what happens next. I always have some nebulous goal given to me by someone else that I had to focus on, so I can't help the locals clean up the mess I made.”
“Don't talk like that. You've changed worlds for the better.”
“Not all of them.” Arin's thoughts returned to Azteca. Were there other worlds that would've been better off without him? Polaris, if he had not raised Rockhoppierre to her station? Karamelle, maybe, if he had just left the Nanas alone? What if he never ripped Dasein out of wherever he's from and thrust him into this foreign world? What if he never discovered Lemuria, and Novus never existed? Would things be better, more peaceful?
“Listen to me, Arin.” Dyvim was now so close that his leg was pressed up against the wizard's. When Arin wouldn't tear his gaze away from his cup of tea, Dyvim grabbed his jaw and turned his head to look him in the eye. Arin's cheeks blazed red, but Dyvim decided to ignore that for now. “You're a hero, with the good and the bad. You have failed before, yes, but you have improved so many lives. You follow those you trust. You have been tricked, but you also have a strong will to do what is right, no matter the cost.” Dyvim paused, choosing his next words carefully. “You've taken lives - as have I - but you have saved so many more. Do you understand what I'm saying?”
Arin lowered his eyes, Dyvim's hand still on his jaw. He said quietly, barely even a whisper, “What if I don't want to be a hero?”
Dyvim's gaze softened. His hand migrated to the wizard's cheek, his thumb traced along Arin's cheekbone. Arin leaned into his palm.
“I'm so tired, Dyvim.”
Those words shot an arrow through the Burrower's heart. He had so much he wanted to say, how he understood, how many times he'd wanted to put down his sword, ignore the call of his ancestors and live a simple life. Instead, he pulled the wizard into a hug. The hand once on Arin's cheek moved to the back of his head, stroking his short hair.
Arin began to sob. He returned the hug and buried his face into Dyvim's shoulder. His fur was so soft.
Arin couldn't remember the last time he cried like this, much less in someone's arms like this. He had been so strong for so long, holding it together for everyone else's sake, and now here he is, sobbing like a child. And of course it was Dyvim to see him like this. How could it be anyone else? Dyvim made him feel safe, protected, appreciated.
“You don't need to tell me everything,” Dyvim interrupted Arin's thoughts once again. “But please know that I am here for you. I want to help you in any way I can.”
Arin took a deep, shaky breath, clinging onto Dyvim for dear life.
“What do you need, Arin?” The way Dyvim said the wizard's name made him weak. “Spellbinder” was a term of endearment, yes, but there was something about how his voice sounded saying those two little syllables.
Arin took another shaky breath and pulled away slightly. He began to wipe his tears on his sleeve.
“Here,” Dyvim produced a handkerchief from the inside of his jacket and handed it to the wizard.
“Ever the gentleman,” Arin croaked with a half smile. He took the kerchief and blew his nose, too tired from crying to care about how gross it sounded. He leaned into Dyvim's chest, who still had one arm wrapped around him. “Sorry about your shoulder.”
Dyvim let out a soft chuckle. “Believe me, this jacket has seen much worse than some tears and snot.”
Arin laughed, too, and let out a few final sniffles. “Thank you,” he managed to squeak out.
Dyvim wrapped his arms around the little wizard and held him close. He nestled his nose into Arin's hair. He smelled heavenly. He smelled like coffee and juniper berries, it was a shame that it was twinged with the bitter scent of stress. Dyvim hoped that he could fix that.
Arin sat up again, wiping his face one more time with Dyvim's kerchief. “Gods, look at me,” he said with a weak laugh.
“Do you feel better?” Dyvim asked.
“Well the existential dread is still there, but other than that, yeah.”
“Than I would say the cry did its job.” They both let out weak chuckles, but avoided each other's eyes.
Dyvim was the first to move. He pulled the wizard closer and pressed his head against Arin's temple. He couldn't see, but the wizard's face burned hot.
“Thank you for telling me all of this,” Dyvim said quietly, barely above a whisper. “It means a lot that you trust me like this. You are very important to me, I hope you know that.”
Arin could read between the lines, but he was still afraid to say it first. “You mean a lot to me, too.”
Dyvim moved away and put his hand on Arin's jaw again, gentler this time. Arin's eyes were still red from crying. Again, Dyvim moved first, locking his lips with the Spellbinder's. Arin did not shy away like the Burrower expected, but welcomed the kiss fully. Dyvim's whiskers tickled his cheeks. It occurred to Arin, just for a moment, how odd it would be on his home world to be kissing a mouse, but the thought disappeared when Dyvim pulled away.
“I'm sorry if that was too sudden,” Dyvim said, shyly.
“Now who's apologizing when he shouldn't be?” Arin chided.
Dyvim let out a relieved laugh and brushed his nose against the wizard's. “Do you think the rest have noticed we're gone?”
“Not at all,” Arin laughed. “I bet Quartermane, Pork, and Mellori are all competing to see who will be the center of attention.”
Dyvim chuckled. “You have some interesting friends.”
“What does it say about you that you're among them?” Arin teased.
“I'd like to think I'm an exception. After all, I am the only one here, aren't I?”
Arin laughed and leaned in to steal another kiss from the Burrower. This time, there was no hesitation, no apprehension. The wizard brushed his hand against Dyvim's cheek, stroking his fur until his hand stopped to rest on the back of his neck. Dyvim wrapped one arm around Arin's shoulders, and used the other to pull him up onto his lap by the leg. This resulted in a soft squeak of surprise from the wizard, but no complaining.
Arin broke the kiss to bury his face in the crook of Dyvim's neck, still wet from his crying before. He felt so safe, held by the great knight who helped him fell an army, a fire warm at his back. He sighed.
“I just want this. No heroics, no adventure, just this.”
Dyvim rubbed small circles on Arin's lower back. “I know. Believe me, I would like nothing more, myself. But alas, responsibility calls.”
Arin groaned. He did not want to return to the world where he was the hero needed to save the day – if you could call him a hero at all.
“Just for tonight?” Arin pulled away to look at Dyvim, giving him his best puppy-dog eyes.
Dyvim let out a wholehearted laugh at the Spellbinder's begging. “Alright,” he relented. “Just for tonight, no responsibilities, no obligations, just us.”