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"You always were a sly one, Messenger."
Eiden froze. Quincy's low, raspy voice sent a shiver down his spine. His tone held more contempt than Eiden had ever heard him speak with.
He spun around, looking up at the towering War God. How had he known Eiden would be here?
Quincy took slow, purposeful steps closer, chin high as he glared down at Eiden in front of him. His aura was immensely intimidating. "It's fortunate that I saw through your little plot beforehand. I had a servant move the jug elsewhere—somewhere your cunning little hands wouldn't find."
Eiden backed up, hands trembling. Quincy's eyes shone a vibrant shade of gold. This wasn't him—this was the War God, who was more than willing to hurt Eiden.
"I didn't come here for the jug," Eiden tried to insist.
Quincy—no. The War God chuckled, bitter and mocking. "Always with the excuses. Unfortunately, little Messenger, you won't talk your way out of this one."
Eiden's back hit the wall. He pressed himself against it, watching the War God anxiously. What was he going to do to him? Eiden couldn't possibly escape the god, especially since he had Quincy's immense speed and strength. Eiden was barely half his size.
The War God continued his approach until he stood only a foot in front of Eiden. His eyes were full of resentment, which Eiden never saw in Quincy. It made Eiden even more terrified.
"Come on, can't we talk about thi—ah—!"
Eiden tried to reason with the god, but he cut Eiden off by grabbing his throat. He used so much force that Eiden's feet lifted a few inches from the floor. Now he was pinned to the wall, barely able to breathe.
"I'd be a fool to allow you to use your strength against me," the War God growled.
Eiden clawed at Quincy's wrist, but the man didn't even wince. Eiden's eyes burned with pained, helpless tears.
"Quincy," Eiden managed to wheeze. "Please," he begged.
For a second, Quincy's eyes flashed back to their normal color, and his grip on Eiden's throat weakened. Eiden took advantage of that second to kick the man as hard as he could in the crotch.
Quincy groaned low in his throat and dropped him. Eiden coughed and scrambled to his feet, preparing himself to fly out of Quincy's reach, but—
A large, strong hand clamped down on his right wing before he got the chance.
Eiden cried out in pain, hearing several concerning crunch sounds from the sheer strength of Quincy's grip.
"You always seem to have some sort of trick up your sleeve," the War God growled, lifting Eiden high into the air by just his wing, and Eiden screamed. Tears streamed down his face. What the hell kind of illusion was this? It wasn't fair!
"Quincy!" Eiden cried, head burning in agony. It felt like Quincy was going to rip the wing straight out of Eiden's skull. He couldn't even breathe, the pain was so unbearably excruciating.
Suddenly, the hand on his wing slackened. Eiden dropped to the floor, slamming against the ground. It took him a few seconds to gather his frazzled, dazed thoughts before he remembered the threat in front of him.
Eiden desperately crawled to the wall again, shrinking himself against it and cowering before the War God. The tears never stopped. His entire body was trembling, overcome by the animalistic terror of a prey animal in the face of a large, bloodthirsty predator.
Quincy staggered back a step, but Eiden didn't dare to hope. He watched through blurry eyes as Quincy battled with himself. Finally, his hand grasped the hilt of a dagger on his waistline.
Eiden's eyes widened in terror. He immediately braced himself, raising his arms up to shield his head, curling into a self-preserving ball. At any moment, the War God would use that knife and rip him to shreds.
But it never came.
Instead, Eiden heard Quincy growl, low and pained, before he heard the sound of metal sinking into flesh. When Eiden tentatively raised his eyes to look, he realized that Quincy had used to the dagger to stab himself in the stomach, deep enough for the hilt to bruise his skin. Then, he ripped the blade out and let it clatter to the floor.
Quincy dropped to his knees, eyes finally their normal color again. "Run, Eiden," he panted. "I- I can't hold him."
But Eiden was too overcome with fear to move. The last time he tried to run, Quincy had nearly ripped his wing out of his head. The memory locked his body in place.
"I can't," Eiden all but sobbed.
Quincy's expression tightened with so much guilt and clear anguish that it made Eiden feel even worse. He didn't want to be scared of Quincy, because he knew it wasn't his fault, but he just couldn't help it.
"I'm sorry," Quincy said, but his voice cracked at the end.
Eiden shook his head. "It's not your fault. We- we need to get out of this illusion."
"Use your essence," Quincy said, voice strained. He held a hand to his wound. "You...can break this. You're strong enough to—ngh!"
Quincy suddenly doubled over with a pained groan. He held his head for a moment, fighting the War God's influence, but he seemed to be losing. With the last of his consciousness, he grabbed the dagger again and stabbed it into his thigh with all his strength.
"Do it!" Quincy yelled.
Eiden flinched, but he quickly obeyed. He focused on the flow of essence around him. Though faint, he could feel the essence keeping the illusion in place, as well the essence keeping him inside it. He carefully began utilizing his own to disrupt the illusion.
It wasn't easy. His head still throbbed, and his breaths remained wheezy and shallow. His whole body hurt from getting dropped to the tile floor like a sack of dirt. But Quincy was still fighting for him, and Eiden didn't want to let him do anything else he'd regret later. So he persevered.
"You won't escape again, Messenger," Quincy's voice came in a low growl.
"I'm not your damn messenger," Eiden bit out, glaring at the god. "This illusion won't change what happened."
"No, it won't," the War God spoke. "But it will at least let me experience my revenge."
He rose to his feet, pulling the dagger out of his thigh. Blood gushed from both his wounds. His golden eyes were full of resentment, and even as covered in his own blood as he was, he still stood tall.
Eiden's adrenaline spiked again, but he forced himself to stay focused. He was almost done unraveling the illusion with his essence. If he gave up now, then the fight Quincy put up to buy him time would be for nothing. He couldn't allow that.
He felt a small tear in the line between the illusion and reality. He focused his essence into that tear, ripping the seams open further and further and destabilizing the strength of the illusion.
"You can't run from me," the War God growled. "You're the only ones to interact with us in eons—I'm not letting this opportunity go to waste."
"You won't get to me by influencing Quincy," Eiden said, eyes narrowed. He was seconds from being done. "He won't let you."
"With his power, I can rip you apart before he has the chance to stop me."
"Yeah?" Eiden said. "Well, you're already too late, bastard. Go to hell."
Then, he slammed every ounce of his essence into the illusion and shredded it to pieces.
His vision immediately warped. His head spun with nauseating vertigo, stomach lurching as he was forcefully expelled from the illusion. Fuck, he was going to be sick.
He leaned to the side, weight falling against his left arm, ready to heave up his lunch. But when his hand made contact with the ground, he didn't feel the cold, marble tile from the illusion—instead, his hand met damp grass. When he blinked, he found himself back outside the ruins, in his own reality and wearing his own clothing.
I did it, he thought. Then promptly vomited his entire lunch into the grass.
He felt like absolute shit. His injuries had carried over; his throat still ached, his head still throbbed, and his scalp still burned with the phantom pain of his wing nearly getting ripped out of his head. Quincy had really done a number on him—everything hurt, and he wanted to cry again.
It took several minutes for his stomach to settle down. Once he was finally done dry heaving, he coughed and sat back up straight, dazed and weak. Now that he could finally stop and think again, he immediately remembered Quincy was still badly injured.
He quickly looked around, spotting Quincy lying in the grass further from the ruins, still and silent.
"Quincy!" Eiden said, scrambling to his feet.
His head spun the moment he stood, but he managed to stumble closer and collapse to his knees at Quincy's side.
Blood stained the man's clothing on his right thigh and lower abdomen, leaving two red blotches that only continued to grow in size. Eiden hurried to put pressure on the stomach wound.
If I can wake him up, he can heal himself, Eiden thought, glancing at Quincy's face. His complexion was pale, and his essence was in total disarray.
Eiden had used a lot of his own essence to break the illusion, but he still had much more than Quincy, and none of his own injuries were half as severe. If he didn't give Quincy what he could, the man could die.
Quincy would be incredibly upset when he woke up—he'd blame himself for everything, like he always did, because he never wanted to accept any help or protection. It would take a long time for Eiden to reassure him. But that conversation was going to have to wait.
Eiden took a deep breath, channeling his essence, before he leaned down and kissed Quincy.
He poured as much essence as he possibly could into the injured forest guardian, utilizing every last feeling of desperation and care. Even as his vision began to spot with black, and even as the rest of his body numbed into nothingness, he never once hesitated or paused.
Soon, he'd given nearly everything he had. He pulled off with a gasp, breathless and panting. Quincy already looked better—the color returned to his beautiful features, and his breathing strengthened. Eiden knew he'd given him enough to save him, even if only to go and find proper help from the village.
Eiden managed a weak, relieved smile before his vision immediately faded. He fell forward onto Quincy's chest and slipped into darkness.
———
Quincy's eyes opened a few minutes later.
He blinked up at the sky, then glanced down at the weight on his chest, where he saw the peaceful, resting face of Eiden curled on top of him. Quincy's expression turned bittersweet—his brow furrowed in guilt and resentment towards himself, lips tugging into a frown, but his eyes shined with undeniable fondness and adoration.
He sat up, gathering the unconscious Eiden carefully into his arms. Quincy hugged him tightly for a few seconds, burying his face Eiden's messy, dirty brown hair, breathing the sweet, calming scent of his remaining essence.
Then, he rose to his feet and carried him to the village, cradling him close to his chest every step of the way.
———
The next time Eiden awoke, he was wrapped up in Quincy's gentle, musky scent.
He slowly opened his eyes, feeling warm and comfortable. He'd been wrapped up in soft, cozy blankets, and the room was pleasantly dim. He recognized the ceiling of Quincy's bedroom above him, and that made him feel safe.
"You're awake," Quincy's voice came from beside him, and Eiden looked to his right. Quincy sat at his bedside, holding a half-peeled apple and a knife. He set both down on the nightstand.
Then, he reached his hand out to pet Eiden's hair, the way he always did. And it was a habit, for both of them, but for some reason...the sight of Quincy's hand reaching towards him made something flash in Eiden's mind. His body reacted, flinching away from the touch as if expecting pain.
Quincy froze. The relieved expression he'd been wearing immediately fell into the most crestfallen look Eiden's ever seen on his face, and he pulled his hand back. He even backed his chair up a bit.
"...Sorry," Quincy mumbled. "Habit."
Eiden immediately shook his head. "No, it's okay," he tried to assure him, but his voice was weak and croaky. "I- I don't know why I did that."
"It's because...you're scared of me."
"I'm not," Eiden immediately protested. "I promise I'm not."
But Quincy just gently shook his head. "I hurt you," he said quietly. "Your mind will associate me with that pain."
The raw pain in his eyes made Eiden's chest feel hollow. He didn't want Quincy to feel this guilty and upset.
"It wasn't you, Quincy. I know it wasn't."
"Yes, it was," Quincy said. "You have my fingerprints on your throat. Because I couldn't stop that god, he made me hurt you."
"But you saved me," Eiden murmured, voice gentle. "You did stop him. And we made it out together."
Quincy looked at the nightstand, unable to meet Eiden's eyes. "You don't know what you looked like," Quincy whispered. "I could see everything."
Eiden's eyes softened. If Quincy had to see Eiden cowering on the floor in tears, then it was no wonder he was upset.
"It was him I was cowering from, not you," Eiden said gently. "And every time I called your name, you fought for me. I knew you would."
"But it wasn't enough," Quincy weakly replied, still gazing at the nightstand, where he wouldn't have to meet Eiden's warm gaze.
Eiden could already tell what was going through his mind—he was blaming himself for what happened. He was likely calling himself weak and complacent, resenting himself for not being able to protect Eiden from the War God. The guilt was visibly weighing on him.
Quincy's sense of identity and self-worth had always been so tied up in his role as guardian or protector; it was what he'd always been, his whole life, and Eiden had learned through many months with the man that any time he failed to protect someone, it destroyed him. Because he had convinced himself that being a protector was all he was worth.
Eiden scooted over on the bed a little bit, leaving more room between the two of them. He opened his arms to Quincy and motioned for him to join him in bed.
"Come lay with me," Eiden said.
Quincy finally looked at him. "...I shouldn't."
"I want you to," Eiden persisted. "Please?"
Quincy hesitated to answer. He looked conflicted, and for a moment, it seemed like he would refuse again.
But finally, he relented with a small nod and a soft sigh. "...Alright."
He stood up and climbed in bed beside Eiden, laying on his back and leaving space between them. Eiden smiled and scooted closer to rest his head against Quincy's shoulder. Quincy was a little stiff, but he didn't leave.
"...How are you feeling?" Quincy asked quietly.
"I feel fine," Eiden murmured. "I'm not in any pain at all. What about you? How are your stab wounds?"
"They're fine. The villagers patched me up," Quincy said.
Eiden hummed, placing a hand on Quincy's stomach to rub small, soothing circles into his skin. "That's good. Are they sore?"
"...Yes," Quincy admitted. "But...I suppose...“ he trailed off, but Eiden knew exactly what he was going to say. I deserve it.
Eiden frowned. "I wish you wouldn't blame yourself."
"How can I not? I hurt you, Eiden."
"You hurt yourself far more than you hurt me," Eiden retorted.
"Because it was the only way to stop myself from killing you," Quincy said, and the frustration was evident in his tone.
Eiden sighed softly. He knew that continuing this argument would only upset Quincy further, and he didn't want that. He needed a different way to convey his feelings—one that would finally get through to the stubborn forest guardian.
Eiden rubbed his thumb lightly over Quincy's injury. "Do you remember when we first met?"
"...Of course," Quincy murmured. "Why?"
Eiden smiled softly. "My very first impression of you was how strong you were. You saved me twice in one day through strength alone, and I was completely amazed by that. Of course, I also got a really nice feel for your strength the following night."
That finally brought a small smile to Quincy's face. Eiden continued.
"But even though you're so strong, you're still not invincible, Quincy. No one is," Eiden said gently. "I don't come here to see you for your strength. I'm not close with you so you'll protect me. I'm not the kind of person who befriends someone solely for what they can provide me."
Eiden finally sat up, feeling determined. He placed a gentle hand on Quincy's face and guided him to meet his gaze.
"I care about you, Quincy," Eiden said. "I know you feel guilty and upset about me getting hurt, but you have to understand—I feel the exact same way about you. I hate knowing that you had to stab yourself to protect me because I was too weak to protect myself. I hate knowing I wasn't strong enough to properly care for you after we got out of the illusion while you were still bleeding and wounded. But most of all, I hate knowing you're hurting over me. I don't ever want to make you resent yourself."
Quincy said nothing, but the subtle surprise on his face and slight tremble of his irises told Eiden everything he needed to know. He brushed Quincy's bangs from his eyes and continued.
"You're so much more than your strength," Eiden said, voice warm. "You're so kind and giving. You're easy to talk to, and you're so fun to be around. You're smart, too—you know so much about the forest and its wildlife, and it's so nice to hear you talk about it, because you hold so much love and respect for it. I learn something new every time I see you. And yes, you're wonderful in bed, but that's only a very small piece of how great you are."
Eiden ran his other hand through Quincy's soft hair, heart warm with fondness. "That's why I don't want you to blame yourself. Because I'll never blame you," he said warmly. "You did your absolute best for me, and that's more than enough. We're together, safe, and healing. That's all I'll ever want from you."
Quincy looked completely stunned. For a moment, Eiden almost thought his eyes seemed a little wet.
"...You really don't blame me for hurting you?" Quincy whispered.
Eiden smiled and shook his head. "No. Because I know you were doing absolutely everything in your power to stop it from happening. And that's more than enough."
Quincy swallowed, slow and heavy, before he finally nodded once. "...Thank you, Eiden," he said quietly, and Eiden knew he had finally gotten through to him. His red eyes were full of relief and gratitude.
Eiden gave him a warm, gentle smile and continued petting his hair. "You should get some rest," he murmured. "I know you've been stressing yourself into an early grave. Get some sleep, and I'll be right here next to you when you wake up again."
"But you just woke up," Quincy said. "Are you sure you feel alright? Do you need anything?"
"The only thing I need right now is to see that you're resting," Eiden said. "I've been to your house hundreds of times, Quincy. If I need something, I know where to find it."
Still, Quincy didn't look convinced. Eiden supposed he'd never be able to get the man to stop worrying about him.
"Will it make you feel better if I sleep next to you?"
"...Yes, it would," Quincy mumbled.
Eiden fondly rolled his eyes. "Alright. Let's rest together. I guess a little more sleep wouldn't hurt."
He shimmied his way back under the blankets, curling into Quincy's side. He laid his hand on Quincy's chest, right over his heart, to feel his strong, steady heartbeat.
Eiden nuzzled his head into the crook of Quincy's neck with a soft, content sigh. "Better?"
"Better," Quincy affirmed, putting his arm around Eiden to keep him close.
Only with Eiden tucked safely in his arms did Quincy finally allow his weary eyes to close.