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All he could hear was screams. There were so many of them that it was hard to pinpoint where exactly they were coming from.
In the darkness of the starless night he could barely see anything, barely see their opponents. It almost felt like it was just him, the darkness and these awful, painful screams.
It all started with giants’ sudden attack in the middle of the night, they have been woken up so suddenly they barely had time to understand what was going on and get ready before they were rushing out to join the fight.
And Arthur should be prepared – he knew he should – and in a way he was. He knew what he’s supposed to do, knew how to fight, knew what their mission is. He was being trained for moments like that since he was a little kid, longer than he could remember. He heard all kinds of stories about battlefields, blood spreads and war heroes – he also knew that he was expected to come back with his own war stories like that one day.
So yeah, Arthur knew what to expect and should be prepared.
But can one be truly prepared for the horrors that is war? That are painful screams of comrades, no, friends (dare he call them that)?
He didn’t know what was worse, the screams or the dreadful silence that came afterwards.
Arthur decided not to think about all of that, instead decided to pack it all into a tiny box at the back of his mind to analyze later – preferably never. For now he focused to set himself into a survive mode, mode that he lived in constantly almost all his life, no matter if that was to survive his father, trainings, loneliness or battles.
Though he must admit that lately his survive mode was getting weaker – could it be that he finally found a place for himself, even if that place was Mazmus? Not that he would ever admit it out loud. It didn’t matter anyway. What mattered is that he can’t let those possible attachments slow him down, he came here to win, so he will win, no matter what.
He can’t prove to his father – or himself – that he is even bigger of a loser than any of them already thought, by losing.
As he was running through the darkness to throw himself back into the fight, onto another giant that will cross his path, he saw something in the corner of his vision. He thought – hoped – he imagined that, but no, there in the middle of the chaos, on the ground, seemingly motionless was laying Apollo. In the middle of the night his hair looked like it was almost glowing, like the war reached the sky and the only star on it became another victim of it.
Arthur almost stopped entirely, when he saw him. Seeing Apollo, usually so lively, with smile that reached his eyes and go-lucky attitude, now not moving, on the ground felt so… wrong.
The decision and moments after were quick. He turned and sprinted towards him as fast as he could. The closer he was the faster his heart – that seemed to go all the way up to his throat – was beating. Was he scared for Apollo? No, no, never, he couldn’t be. Right?
“Apollo!” he said as he got on his knees next to him. When he was this close to him he could see bruises and cuts. A lot of them. He must’ve fallen, possibly from a big height. Maybe he got thrown by some giant?
“Arthur?” Apollo answered after a while, sounding weak and confused.
“Yeah, it’s me you idiot. Can you stand up? You can’t just lay down here unless you want to die.” And I can’t let that happen, he thought to himself as he looked at Apollo, who was struggling to sit up. “What the fuck even happened?”
“Help me up man” he said weakly as he reached his hands to Arthur. This little sentence was so similar to what Apollo had said to him after one of the trainings in which he ended up falling to the ground. This situation was so similar, yet so different from that memory that Arthur almost felt sick. At the training he just called him a loser and ignored him, but this wasn’t a training, this was a life or death situation. So he got up, took Apollo’s hand, draped his arm around his shoulders and started walking them away from the center of the battle to somewhere safer as the shorter man kept talking. “I don’t know what- I was just- and- and then-“ he raised his hand to gesture something which caused him to almost fall over if it wasn’t for Arthur catching him.
“Alright, alright, shut up and let me get you somewhere safer so you won’t fucking die on me.”
“Aww, so you do care about me Arthur!” Apollo smiled weakly to him.
“I don’t, we just can’t lose more people. And I told you to shut the fuck up, didn’t I?”
“I’m not gonna die, Arthur. It takes way more than that to kill me, I can assure you of that.”
He didn’t respond to that, too focused on moving forwards. Arthur didn’t feel it at first, but when he almost fell to the ground, being crushed by unexpected weight, he noticed that Apollo passed out. He caught his limp body and carried him behind a nearby tree to lay him down.
He himself quickly kneeled besides Apollo to check for his vital signs. Arthur was almost panicked – almost, because he never panicked. He couldn’t.
He let out a sigh of relief when he felt a pulse. It was weak, but it was there. That’s all that mattered to him at that moment. Apollo will live and will continue on being happy idiot in his life. He will be fine and probably will continue on his stupid antics with Tyler in just a week.
He was about to try to wake him up so they could keep going, get him some real help when he froze. His hand, that brushed Apollo chest slightly, touched something wet and sticky. He looked down and it was like the world stopped around him from what he saw.
Red.
Blood.
There, under Apollo’s tilted armor, that was clearly hastily put on, was blood. A lot of it.
Somewhere amongst it has to be an injury – a big one from what it looked like – that Arthur didn’t notice before. How could he not notice something like that? It must’ve opened when they were walking.
Suddenly it didn’t matter that they were in the middle of the battle, it didn’t matter that he himself was in danger. All that mattered was to stop the bleeding and wake the other man up.
Arthur quickly moved Apollo’s armor out of the way – which caused even more blood to come out – and ripped his cape into big parts to press to the big wound and stop the bleeding.
Because of the fact that his cape was red he couldn’t see the moment it was soaked through, but he could feel it on his hands. His hands, that were starting to shake as he lifted one to wake Apollo.
“Fuck- Apollo- wake up you dumbass.” He slapped his cheek not caring if it hurt. If he’ll be alive enough to complain to him about it Arthur won’t mind.
Apollo blinked few times and when he finally opened his eyes they seemed way more unfocused and foggy that before. He was looking at Arthur like he didn’t know who he was, before his face showed recognition.
He opened his mouth like he wanted to say something, but instead of words more blood spilled out.
Not a good sign.
“Shit, why didn’t you say anything about your chest wound?” he pressed the fabric of his cape even harder, which got a painful noise out of Apollo.
The only response he got was even more of heavy coughs and then he started passing out again.
“Hey, hey, stay awake, don’t fall asleep.” Arthur slapped him again, lighter this time. The more this was going on, the more he felt like he was losing his composure.
Apollo mumbled something he couldn’t understand and then finally spoke with actual words – though they were getting less and less coherent and quiet, like speaking costed him a lot of energy.
“Y’know Arthur… I think- I think I might’ve been wrong. Maybe it is what it takes to kill me. Maybe I’m weaker than I thought.”
“Don’t say stupid shit like that, you’re not going to die, asshole.”
“Arthur… we both know that’s not true. But listen- look at me. Arthur.” Suddenly he felt a cold hand – too cold. Has it always been this cold? – on his cheek which made him look Apollo in the eye – something he was trying to avoid at all costs before. He didn’t want to look at these foggy, half-dead eyes that were supposed to hold so much life, so much spark in them. “Listen to me. I didn’t think I would ever say this, but right now? I don’t mind dying. Dying on my own terms, while fighting for other people, for friends, to protect them so their life could continue on is a hell of a way to die. I’m happy I could do something meaningful before I die. The only thing I’m sad about is the fact that I won’t be able to be there for any of you in the future. So promise me something, okay, Arthur? Promise me you’ll finally let someone in, promise me you’ll be there for others and you’ll let them be there for you. I know that deep down you want – need – an ally, a friend, even if you’re not ready to admit that to yourself yet. So don’t deprive yourself of that anymore. And thank you. Thank you for keeping me company.”
Arthur was left speechless. He didn’t expect any of that. Not the acceptance, not the calmness, not the gratitude.
He didn’t like that. Didn’t like the fact that Apollo stopped fighting, that he was ready to give up and just die. How could he say all of that? He doesn’t mind dying?
What a bullshit.
He snapped out of it when Apollo’s hand fell from his cheek. Somehow the absence of it felt even colder than the hand itself.
It seemed like he was falling unconscious again, but this time it felt different. More… permanent. Like he would never wake up again.
“Stay awake, Apollo, hey, stay with me.” He heard his voice crack. Apollo didn’t answer, he just smiled slightly and closed his eyes. “No, no, no, no.”
He shook him and tried slapping him again but it didn’t work. Nothing worked, when Apollo’s breathing stopped and his lifeless body started getting cold.
He slowly raised his shaking hands – still bloody from trying to stop the bleeding – to wipe the tears he didn’t notice were starting to fall on his cheeks. In the process he must’ve smudged some red on his face but he didn’t care. That didn’t matter. Apollo was dead and nothing else mattered to him.
How could he let that happen? Could he do something more to save him? Have he not moved him would his wound not open and would not be deadly?
He failed him.
Apollo was always so welcoming to him, even when he was rude and Arthur failed him when it mattered the most.
How could he live with himself after that?
How would he look at himself in the mirror?
How would he tell the others?
He looked at Apollo’s too peaceful face for the last time and made up his mind.
Arthur forced his hands to stop shaking, forced his mind to go blank and forced himself to stop feel anything as he got up.
Right now he had only one thing on his mind.
Vengeance.
If before he fought to win, now, he fought to kill. To make those who did it bleed. To make them feel pain.
They had to pay.
And Arthur will make sure of that himself, even if it’ll cost him his own life.