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The dwarves were supposed to be on their way back to Khaka Brud by now. They weren’t. 

Technically, the delegation was supposed to have left yesterday, but the celebration of the end of the negotiations (which the dwarves had, predictably, insisted upon) had stretched well into the night. And then very few wanted to leave in the morning while still hung over from the previous evening. And now, with the afternoon stretching on, Kabru was feeling increasing pressure to gently escort the group as quickly as possible before the drinking and feasting could start up again in earnest.

Still, they were trying their best to placate the group in the meantime, and so when the leader of the delegation insisted upon Laios joining him and a few lackeys in a side room to speak privately, Kabru didn’t protest as he trailed behind them. The leader of their group, Gin, had insisted on giving the King a gift, something that Kabru could only hope indicted that they were finally tying up loose ends in preparation to depart.

“We really do want to thank you for hosting such a great feast. Glad your kitchens can cook something other than monsters! Those rumors had me worried,” Gin said with a laugh.

“Of course, anything to show gratitude to our allies,” Laios said.

Laios glanced over to Kabru, looking for a confirmation that that was the right reply. Kabru simply nodded in approval.

He knew this whole affair was draining Laios quite significantly by now. Hell, it was draining everyone. Kabru had barely gotten any sleep over these past few days, and even he felt himself desperate to be rid of the group and take a breath.

At least he hadn’t had to grow a beard to garner more respect among their guests like Laios did. Kabru was sure he’d be shaving the ridiculous thing off the moment the dwarves were over the horizon.

“If there’s anything else we can do for you before you depart, please do let us know,” Kabru said, hoping that would at least be enough of a hint.

Gin waved a hand dismissively before continuing.

“I almost forgot with how eventful last night was, but we have a gift for your Highness. Consider it a token of goodwill.”

“Thank you f-” Kabru started.

“Now hold on, the King hasn’t even seen it!” A lesser diplomat said, cutting him off. Laughter from the other dwarves followed.

Kabru snapped his mouth shut.

Kabru didn’t like the way these people talked to him. Long lived governments were always unpleasant to deal with, always seemed to demand that he plan his every move even more carefully than usual. Not to mention that the strain of the last few days was clearly making him less careful to begin with.

With a gesture from Gin, two of the larger dwarves brought what seemed to be a large rolled canvas forward, setting it down on the table. They began to undo the knots that tied the roll shut as Gin continued.

“I’ve been told the King has a fondness for specimens, so I hope this will do.”

With the ties undone, the dwarves began unfurling the canvas. Inside of it was a pelt covered in thick, gray fur. As they continued to unroll it, it became clear that it was too big to have belonged to any normal animal. Probably a monster then, which was to be expected.

The moments the thing’s face was revealed Kabru felt his stomach drop.

“Wow!” Laios exclaimed, his face lighting up.

Laios started rambling off information about the monster the dwarves had skinned then, the sort of stream of information that Kabru distantly knew he ought to cut off before Laios got too carried away, but Kabru found that he could barely even hear him. He was too caught up looking at the monster's face, at the hollow spaces that once held eyes.

He’d seen this monster before. He knew it wasn’t the same one, it couldn’t have been, all the monsters at Utaya had either been culled or had withered away once their mana supply was cut off. Still, it felt like the same one. 

The first time he’d seen the creature had aligned with the first time he’d seen a dead body. Many more would follow very shortly after, of course. A man he’d never seen before was lying prone on the ground, unmoving but with his eyes wide open. Over him loomed something Kabru could only think to compare to a dog, though it bore little resemblance to one beyond fur and teeth. It sunk its teeth into the man before it, tearing the flesh of his stomach like paper. Kabru hadn’t understood how the man could stay so still through that.

The scent of blood permeated the air, something he’d previously only experienced when watching his mother prepare meat for their supper, but it was sickening now in a way that it never had been before. His mother had pulled him away with a sharp pull to his arm then, but the scene remained in his vision, like an after image left after starring at the sun too long-

“-Kabru,”

Kabru was jolted back to attention. Laios looked back at him, openly concerned. It occurred to Kabru that that might not have been the first time he called his name.

“Are you alright?” Laios asked, nearly a whisper.

“Yes, of course,” Kabru insisted, the false smile appearing on his face practically of its own accord.

“Don’t worry kid, it’s already dead,” A dwarf chimed in, clearly noticing his distress. The others laughed along.

Kabru git his teeth as he forced himself to laugh along with them, because of course now would be when a jab at his lifespan would come out. He should have been more careful. Why wasn’t he more careful… 

He tried to push down a sudden, senseless feeling of panic at the thought. How was he possibly meant to stabilize the kingdom if he was slipping up already, over something so trivial? In front of such important people, no less? What was he good for if he couldn’t even manage this?

Laios’s hand fell onto Kabru’s shoulder, once again pulling him from his spiral. Had he really zoned out again so soon?

“Why don’t you go back to the banquet hall? I know you don’t like monsters,” Laios suggested.

God, he must look even worse than he thought if Laios was showing tact over this. 

Kabru opened his mouth to protest, but at that moment Yaad made his way into the room to see why the king had been stolen away. As long as Laios was being supervised by someone Kabru figured a brief absence wouldn’t be too damning.

“…I’ll just be a minute,” Kabru said. Maybe getting something to drink would help his swimming head.

After making his halfhearted excuses Kabru slunk back into the banquet hall, keeping to the quieter edge of the room as a handful of dwarves helped themselves to whatever second helping the kitchen was able to churn out for lunch.

He still felt unsteady, even with a whole wall between him and that thing. Which didn’t make any sense, because it was dead. Why was he so unsettled by seeing one that wasn’t even alive? His dungeon days weren’t that far behind him and he’d certainly seen worse since then. How was he meant to present a good image on Melini’s behalf if he couldn’t even handle seeing a pelt?

Kabru glanced around the room, hoping that maybe engaging in some people-watching would calm him, but it suddenly felt as if he was viewing the room through a pane of fogged over glass. All of the names and faces he’d carefully memorized blurred together in his mind. And if that wasn't bad enough, he could feel a lightheadedness setting in too, leaving him even more off kilter.

Before Kabru could get too disoriented a familiar gaze shot through the haze, hitting him like lightning. Mithrun eyed him suspiciously from the crowd, clearly able to tell something was off even from half a room away. Right, Kabru had asked him to help back Melini up just by being there as someone long lived. He forgot that Mithrun would likely still be lingering.

Kabru felt a sudden urge to go talk to him. They were trying to avoid being seen too frequently together so public so people wouldn’t talk, but surely one conversation to settle his nerves couldn’t hurt? 

Right as Kabru made his first step in Mithrun’s direction, though, a member of the delegation much too important to brush off intercepted him.

“You’re the King’s man, right?” He asked.

“I- yes,” Kabru said, despite not being sure what the designation was meant to mean exactly. He could feel a headache coming on. And could hear his pulse hammering in his ears.

“Pleasure to meet you properly,” he said, and Kabru smelled ale on his breath, were they already drinking again? “I’ve got some suggestions for you, about your kingdom,”

Kabru was having trouble even hanging onto the vague idea of what the man was saying as he continued. His mind was wandering back to somewhere else, somewhere full of fur and claws and meat. Thankfully, from what little Kabru did pick up, it seemed that this person mostly desired someone to talk at instead of talk to, and the vague sounds of agreement Kabru made seemed to pacify him. Whether or not that would keep up for long was a question Kabru chose not to dwell on, particularly because he could feel his head throbbing properly now.

Before Kabru could get too lost as this man chattered on, suddenly Mithrun appeared right beside him, stepping into their space and firmly redirecting all attention to himself. The delegate stuttered to a stop upon noticing his presence, and Mithrun took the opportunity to speak.

“Good afternoon, it’s been a pleasure to speak with you and your people,” Mithrun said. He was… smiling? Mithrun was smiling. Not to mention he was also speaking and holding himself with a much more professional air than he’d ever cared to before, as if he was suddenly choosing to channel all of the prestige that the Kerensil name could muster.

“You haven’t been so bad yourself, for an elf,” the diplomat replied.

Mithrun laughed amicably at the comment. Kabru wondered whether the fact that Mithrun did not speak once over the course of the meetings had something to do with the assessment. 

“And Royal Advisor Kabru, how are you today?” Mithrun asked, turning his attention back to him.

“Very well, and you?” Kabru replied numbly. It was an easy question at least, something he could practically respond to in his sleep.

“Fine as well, thank you, but I do believe we have unfinished business,” Mithrun said easily.

Mithrun turned back to the diplomat, his tone becoming slightly apologetic.

“Would you be willing to excuse us for a moment?” Mithrun asked. “I need advisor Kabru to review correspondence from the North Central continent.” 

It was a bluff that Kabru caught onto quickly. It was absolutely not within Mithrun’s jurisdiction to do that. It was not in Mithrun’s jurisdiction to do much of anything with regards to the elven kingdom aside from sending long, rambling reports on local magical and monster activity that Melini must first officially approve.

“Of course,” the diplomat said, certainly not enthusiastically, but with begrudging acceptance at least.

“Thank you,” Mithrun said, giving a smile that was brighter and more poised than any other that Kabru had seen from him before. With that, Mithrun took Kabru by the elbow and began to steer him away.

Kabru followed his lead even as Mithrun tugged him out of the banquet hall and down one of the castle’s many winding corridors. The halls seemed to pass by in a blur as they walked. Kabru starred numbly at Mithrun’s hand on his arm, as if that single point of contact was all that anchored him to this moment. Distantly, he noticed that Mithrun’s grip had shifted down to his wrist at some point. 

Hadn’t his mother held his wrist like this, back then? Although, she’d done it much more tightly.

Kabru jolted at the flash of teleportation Mithrun used to speed up the journey, but not even that was enough to make him comment. He’d seen plenty of magic used by elves that day, but no teleportation. Although given the chaos, he supposed it was impossible to say that with complete certainty. 

It didn’t take long to arrive at the familiar door to Kabru’s own bedchambers. Still, it wasn’t until Mithrun guided them in and closed the door behind them that something clicked into place in Kabru’s mind. He was supposed to be out there, keeping everything in order before the dwarves left properly, what was he doing-

“I’m supposed to be… with Laios right now,” Kabru said, though his voice was strangely weaker than intended, somewhat at odds with the swirling panic he felt beneath his skin.

“What’s wrong?” Mithrun said, ever tactful as he ignored his words entirely.

“Nothing,” Kabru said automatically. 

Mithrun stared at him intensely for a moment before looking him over, as if he expected to see some sort of obvious injury.

“You’re normally a skilled liar,” Mithrun said, almost to himself.

“I’m not lying,” Kabru insisted. 

“Do you need anything?” Mithrun asked, a crease forming in his brow.

“No,” Kabru said, hoping the word sounded only a little too forced. 

“Water?” Mithrun asked. He did this sometimes, went through a mental list of physical needs Kabru could be neglecting when he wasn’t sure what was wrong. A reflection of what Kabru did for him at times, maybe.

“Sure,” Kabru said. He supposed his mouth did feel dry, but mostly he just wanted to give Mithrun something to do other than analyze him.

Perhaps Mithrun picked up on that, because despite offering he suddenly seemed reluctant to leave. Mithrun walked back over to the door anyway, looking back uncertainly. 

“Wait here,” Mithrun said. 

He slipped out the door, apparently in such a hurry that he didn’t even think to close it behind himself. And then Kabru was alone again.

In an instant, it felt like whatever strings had been holding Kabru taut were cut. He hunched forward, burying his face in his hands as the pace of his breathing quickened. 

He just needed a minute, he told himself, just a minute to close his eyes and then he could compose himself. His heart was still beating in his ears though, and if anything it was growing louder now, as if in a desperate attempt to fill the silence of the now empty room.

With unsteady legs, Kabru took a few shaky steps back, until his back was pressed against the cool stone wall.

He tried to fall back on old techniques he’d used to settle himself, ones that had worked before, scrambling to list out the names of capital cities in his mind. The names and letters all seemed to jumble themselves into nonsense as he reached for them though, and the realization only worsened the panic further, his breath coming in gasps now.

Kabru clenched his fists, let himself slide down the wall until he was crouched on the floor. 

It didn’t make any sense. He should be better with this now, after everything, after the source of his tragedy was eliminated, after his dungeon days were put behind him. Why did the edges of his memories feel even sharper?

Kabru looked down at his hands and realized they were shaking now.

This was bad. Mithrun would be coming back soon, and he had to get a handle on himself before then. The urgency only made the panic worse, though, control feeling further away than ever. 

Distantly, he thought that he should get up and shut that door at least, to try to hide this. Anyone could pass by and see him right now, and he couldn’t imagine a worse outcome than that. Still, he couldn’t bring himself to move. 

And of course it was at that moment that Mithrun returned, glass of water in hand, his silhouette darkening the doorway. His eye blew wide upon seeing the mess that Kabru was on the floor. Mithrun rushed over, kneeling beside him, the glass disappearing to who knows where in a flash of teleportation magic.

“Kabru?”

Mithrun reached out, trying to place a hand on Kabru’s shoulder. Kabru flinched away like he’d been burned. 

“Should I get help?” Mithrun asked.

Kabru shook his head frantically, no, god please no, don’t let anyone else see him like this. Embarrassing himself in front of one person was bad enough. 

Mithrun paused for a moment, taking him in. Kabru’s gaze instead fell back on the entrance to his room, the door still ajar. Shakily, he pointed to it, trying to stammer out a request but barely able to get past the first syllable. 

“Close it?” Mithrun asked, thankfully understanding regardless. 

Kabru nodded.

Mithrun got back up to his feet and walked over to shut the door, glancing out into the hallway before doing so. With that taken care of, he headed back over to Kabru, sitting down more comfortably against the wall beside him. 

“No one was there to hear you,” Mithrun said simply, almost like he was giving a report. “Focus on breathing.” 

Easier said than done, Kabru thought. 

For a moment the room fell silent as Kabru struggled to get himself under control, still gasping like a drowning man. Mithrun stayed there beside him, close enough for Kabru to feel his presence but not so close that they were touching. 

Something sharp and bitter in Kabru wondered why Mithrun would even stay while he was like this, whether he judged him for his weakness. Considering the sort of states he’d seen Mithrun in before though, he supposed that was unlikely. Not to mention that the more he dwelt on it, the more sure he was that he preferred Mithrun’s presence over being alone during this.

Kabru’s gaze fell to Mithrun’s hand, sitting idly on the ground between them. Hesitantly, Kabru moved his own hand towards it, letting their fingertips just barely brush. Maybe he craved the touch just a little, a solid, physical reminder that Mithrun was there.

In response, Mithrun turned his hand over, palm open. Kabru moved to his own hand to meet his, fighting against the shaking of his body to entwine their fingers. 

The grip Mithrun kept on his hand was firm, steady, like an anchor. Still, the pounding in Kabru’s ears distracted him as he struggled to calm himself, the sting of adrenaline in his veins keeping him on edge.

Then, Mithrun did something that Kabru never would have predicted, not even if he’d tried to draw out every possible way that this situation would go.

Mithrun started to hum a tune. 

Only softly at first, but then growing in confidence, and then loud enough to feel nearly like singing. It wasn’t any song that Kabru recognized. Something about that simple melody compelled him though, pulling him in. 

Mithrun kept the grip he had on his hand as he continued through the song. Kabru tried to focus on that, too, on his touch. Kabru squeezed his hand, and Mithrun squeezed back reassuringly. 

The melody did seem to seem to work as a fairly effective distraction from his current state. Kabru was able to gasp out a few longer breaths, making what effort he could to quiet them so he could better hear it.

In all the time he knew Mithrun, he’d never heard him sing. Not that this was singing exactly, yet still, it was clear that Mithrun had a nice voice, that any song that passed his lips would be pleasant. Maybe that shouldn’t be so surprising to Kabru, it wasn’t unusual for the children of noble families to be musically trained for the sake of entertaining guests. Still, the novelty of hearing Mithrun’s voice in this way fascinated him, making the song sound particularly sweet.

Kabru’s breaths still shook, but they were longer now. Maybe not quite steady, but not gasping, and much closer to normal than before. 

Mithrun ran a thumb over the back of Kabru’s hand. At that Kabru leaned closer, pressing their shoulders together.

After several long, slow minutes, Kabru finally felt like he’d regained some semblance of control over himself. He didn’t hear his heart anymore, and his breaths came slow and easy. 

With that, Mithrun’s tune reached its conclusion, settling them back into silence. 

For a moment they sat there quietly as Kabru tried to gather himself enough to speak. 

“…I didn’t know you could…” Kabru started, but the words trailed off into nothing.

“I still remember music even if i don’t enjoy it much anymore,” Mithrun said.

“What song was that?” Kabru asked.

“I don’t know,” Mithrun said, “I used to get in states like that frequently during the early days of my rehabilitation. I had a caregiver who used to sing that to me until I calmed down.” 

“Did you know them well?” Kabru pressed.

“No. She didn’t stay long.”

Kabru hummed in reply. He shifted to lean even more weight against Mithrun’s body, settling his head cautiously onto his shoulder. Mithrun rested a cheek against the top of his head in response. 

It occurred to Kabru that there wasn’t much reason to keep holding Mithrun’s hand so tightly now that he had calmed down. He didn’t let go. 

Kabru let his eyes flutter shut as he continued to focus on his own breathing, steady now. Mithrun felt warm against his cheek, solid. From this close he could hear Mithrun’s own breathing now. Kabru tried to match his pace.

“You should get rest,” Mithrun said abruptly. 

“What?” Kabru exclaimed, his eyes snapping back open. He could accept the need to take a quick break, but the time for proper rest wouldn’t be until after all their guests had gone.

“You look tired,” Mithrun insisted, “you have for most of the day. And yesterday.”

Kabru scrambled to come up with a reply for so blunt and so correct an accusation. 

“Lie down for a moment at least,” Mithrun said.

“Is that a desire on your part?” Kabru asked, maybe only half teasing.

“Something like that,” Mithrun replied vaguely. 

After a moment of consideration, Kabru did realize he still felt a bit lightheaded. Maybe it wouldn’t be such a bad idea to take Mithrun’s advice.

“I can spare a minute I suppose,” Kabru said quietly.

Kabru let Mithrun tug him back up to his feet, leading him by the hand over to his own bed. As much as Kabru hated to admit it, the mattress did feel particularly soft and inviting as he settled down onto it.

Mithrun moved to pull away, but Kabru found himself tightening his grip on his hand, reluctant to let him go. He tugged at Mithrun to get closer, just once. 

Thankfully, Mithrun took the hint and settled down onto the bed himself as Kabru shifted back to give him room. A part of Kabru hated this neediness that was rearing up inside of him, but he hated the idea of not being touched even more, the panic seeming to leave a strange tenderness in its wake. Kabru curled in closer, resting a head on Mithrun’s shoulder again, tentatively wrapping an arm around him. Mithrun brought a hand up to stroke gently through his hair, like a reassurance. 

“When was the last time you slept?” Mithrun asked.

Kabru paused for long enough that whatever lie he would have strung together wouldn’t matter.

Kabru’s covers were crumpled in a pile at the corner of the mattress. Surely Mithrun knew by now that he wasn’t the sort of person to make his bed. Which was why it was a bit surprising when Mithrun jostled him as he righted himself, reaching over to the bundle of fabric. He untangled the covers, doing his best to straighten them out as he laid them across the bed.

“What are you doing?” Kabru asked.

“Trying to help you fall asleep,” Mithrun replied.

“Now?!” Kabru exclaimed. It was still the middle of the day…

“Yes. You look exhausted.” Mithrun reached forward to take his collar, carefully undoing the top few buttons of his shirt. Kabru made no move to stop him, simply watching in bewilderment.

“I’m supposed- the meeting-” He began.

“Is by all accounts officially over now,” Mithrun interrupted, “and if you’re needed specifically, your quarters will be the first place someone will look for you.” 

Mithrun pulled the covers up and over them both, fussing with bringing them up high enough before settling down himself. Kabru still didn’t feel convinced.

“Laios will still be mingling with the dwarves until they leave,” he protested.

“And he has plenty of others there to mind that he doesn’t misspeak,” Mithrun countered, “Yaad has been watching him like a hawk through this whole affair.”

“I should at least just-“ Kabru began, pushing himself up onto his elbow.

“Kabru,” Mithrun said, placing a hand on shoulder to still him. Kabru’s gaze shot over to meet his, holding it steady. “You’re not in the state for it,” Mithrun continued, his tone hushed but firm.

And something in Kabru wanted to lash out at that, to ask Mithrun who he thought he was to make that call, that he didn’t have the right. That he didn’t know better just because he was a century older.

Kabru grit his teeth as he bit back the urge. He reminded himself that he was not in that room full of suffocating sweetness anymore, where he’d always felt like little more than another doll. That if he shook Mithrun off and left that Mithrun would let him instead of starting a fight. Not to mention that the sting of frustrated tears he had to swallow back seemed proof enough that he wouldn’t be much help in managing delicate diplomatic relations right now.

Kabru settled back down, begrudgingly righting the covers himself this time. He took a few breaths to try to calm himself down before reaching out for Mithrun, once again seeking his warmth. Mithrun accepted him readily in his arms, held him steadily.

“Is falling asleep an issue again?” Mithrun asked.

Reluctantly, Kabru nodded. He wasn’t sure if it was just due to the stress of preparing for all these high stakes meetings, but it seemed he had only been able to grasp nightmare filled snatches of sleep throughout this whole week. Frequently, it left him even more exhausted than he’d been when he’d lied down in the first place. There wasn’t much to do other than get up and go back to working after that, no matter how early it had been.

“I can cast a sleeping spell,” Mithrun suggested, “it makes it easier.”

Mithrun had offered that to Kabru a few times before, and Kabru would always politely decline. A more honest answer came spilling out of him this time.

“I can’t,” Kabru admitted. 

“…It should work,” Mithrun said uncertainly, not understanding the issue, of course.

Kabru barked out a soft, bitter laugh as he shook his head. “I just- I can’t,” he said, and even as his mind was begging him to come up with some sort of acceptable sounding excuse, the sentence ended there.

Mithrun paused for a moment before continuing, trying to read him.

“…We’ll try something else, then,” he said.

“Like what?” Kabru asked.

“Turn around.”

After giving Mithrun a quizzical glance, Kabru did as he said, shifting to turn his back to him. He felt an arm wrap around his middle as Mithrun tucked himself against him, pressing their bodies flush. Mithrun was a bit too short to spoon him properly, but he was a warm, welcome presence against his back all the same.

“How’s this?” Mithrun asked.

“…It’s nice,” Kabru said. He pressed back into him a bit, trying to get even closer. “I don’t know if I’ll actually be able to fall asleep, though.”

“That’s fine,” Mithrun said, his lips just barely brushing against Kabru shoulder and making him shiver. “Just relax.” 

And Kabru did feel himself relax, just a bit, like having Mithrun hold him so protectively was picking apart a knot in his chest. 

Still, he didn’t quite feel settled. The way he’d turned down Mithrun’s first offer was gnawing at him. He couldn’t shake the sense that it felt in need of an explanation. Was one necessary, though? Did Mithrun really need to know? If it gave a satisfactory enough reason for him to not offer anymore perhaps that would be reason enough. 

“You know… uh…” Kabru started. He cleared his throat but hesitated to continue.

“Yes?” Mithrun asked. “What is it?”

“About the sleeping spells…” Kabru began.

“I’m not offended. Some people find them unpleasant,” Mithrun said.

“It’s more than that. uh…” Kabru swallowed as he paused, trying to gather the mess of his memories into something coherent, something digestible. He wasn’t quite sure he’d succeed. Behind him, Mithrun silently waited for him to continue. 

“I had a lot of nightmares when I was younger,” Kabru started, “worse than now. A lot worse.” He recalled the endless cycle of nightmares after the tragedy of Utaya, how they would warp and multiply and feed off of each other. He would go so long without sleeping a wink…

“So I had them used on me, a lot, uh, when I didn’t, you know,” he continued, fumbling with his words, with the memories of Milsiril reaching out to him and the world going dark. 

This wasn’t a story he’d ever planned to tell to anyone, wasn’t a memory he’d already trimmed and cultivated with an audience in mind. He felt lost as he tried to sift out what to share, what to hide. All he knew was that it was terrifying, how it felt to be switched off like a doll she’d finished toying with, the awful feeling of knowing that if something happened again he wouldn’t be able to wake up, wouldn’t be able to run.

“I know she just wanted what was best for me, but, I hated it and uh…” and she kept doing it. “I know why she did it, but-” Kabru cut himself off again, scrambling for a neat conclusion to his rambling. “I just try to avoid sleeping spells.” 

And god, he thought, none of that was coherent. 

For a moment, there was only a heavy silence as Kabru waited for a response. Kabru felt Mithrun’s grip on him tighten just slightly before he spoke up again.

“I won’t offer them anymore,” Mithrun said, with a tone in his voice that Kabru couldn’t quite place, “and I’m sorry.”

“You didn’t know,” Kabru said.

“That’s not what I meant.”

Kabru couldn’t find it in himself to say anything more on the subject. Instead, he just gripped Mithrun’s arm a bit tighter.

For a while they only lay there. As Kabru expected, despite the bone deep exhaustion that was finally catching up with him he still felt very far from proper sleep. Mithrun seemed to sense this, breaking their silence once again.

“You know,” Mithrun said, “I remember a lot of the gossip spread among noble families. Things from before I became a dungeon lord.” 

“You do?” Kabru asked, glancing back.

“Yes. Would you like to hear about it?” Mithrun asked.

“Sure,” Kabru said. He might as well if he was going to be awake anyway.

Mithrun was off then. He began rambling on about long outdated interpersonal drama, various only half-secret affairs. His voice dipped low, a soothing drone that helped settle Kabru’s nerves as he became tangled in the web of scandal that Mithrun spun. 

Kabru asked him a few questions at first of course, but slowly he trailed off, let Mithrun’s voice simply wash over him as his eyes drifted shut. 

And this was nice, he thought. It felt nice. 

“…Not well right now.”

Kabru barely made the words out through the haze of semi-consciousness. 

“That isn’t necessary,” the familiar voice continued.

Kabru was sure someone was being spoken to, but he couldn’t hear much of the other voice beyond a vague, deep sound. 

“I’ll tell him when he wakes up.”

There was the sound shuffling of paper, a door softly shut. Kabru finally cracked an eye open to see Mithrun settling back onto the bed. He noticed Kabru’s wakefulness as he did so, and brought a hand to his cheek. 

“Everything is taken care of,” Mithrun said firmly, running a thumb over his cheek as he spoke. “Go back to sleep.” 

And well, the bed was very soft, and warm, and Mithrun was pulling him back against his chest again, and so Kabru’s eyes slipped back shut as he drifted off once more. 

Kabru woke with sort of the midday nap confusion that left him scrambling to remember where or who he was. A shifting under his cheek made him raise his head up in bleary confusion. He immediately locked eyes with Mithrun, who was looking at him with a curious expression on his face. 

It seemed he’d been sleeping on Mithrun’s chest for a while. Kabru hoped that hadn’t been uncomfortable for him… Mithrun still had trouble recognizing those sorts of signals from his own body unless he was being actively reminded of them.

Kabru felt a slight twinge of embarrassment as his memory slowly came back to him, reminding him of the series of events that led to this moment.

“What time is it?” Kabru asked, still trying to shake the grogginess. His voice was still thick with sleep.

“A bit after supper,” Mithrun responded evenly.

Kabru shot upright in bed.

“What?! Was I out-” Kabru began.

“About five hours.” 

“Five?! But I- I was supposed to-”

“It’s taken care of,” Mithrun said firmly. He looped an arm around Kabru’s waist, trying to settle him. “Yaad stopped by to inform you that the dwarves have left, and I told him you were feeling ill. He delegated your responsibilities to others for the rest of the day.”

“Oh,” Kabru said, calming down a bit now that he knew the situation was being handled, at least. And most importantly that the negotiations with Kahka Brud were finally over, for now at least.

Still, that must have been an interesting conversation, given that Yaad wasn’t particularly happy with Mithrun’s presence in his life. Not that Kabru could blame him. It was one thing to have an official diplomat employed by the elven kingdom, but certainly another to have a noble-raised elf of uncertain alignment sitting in the lap of the King’s closest advisor.

Not to mention how improper it must have been for him to knock on Kabru’s bedroom door and get Mithrun as an answer instead. God, he’d probably thought they’d been… well, not like they hadn’t before, but Kabru at least wanted Yaad to know he wouldn’t blow off his work for that…

“He did want you to sign off on something though,” Mithrun said, interrupting Kabru’s internal spiral. “I put it on your desk.” 

Kabru looked over to his desk then, and sure enough a few new documents rested there. He broke Mthrun's hold and got to his feet, making his way over to the desk.

“A lot can get done in five hours…” Kabru muttered as he sifted through the papers left for him.

“A lot did. You got rest,” Mithrun said.

“Speaking of getting things done,” Kabru said, turning his attention back to where Mithrun sat perched in his bed. “Have you eaten today?”

“I could ask you the same,” Mithrun said.

“Mithrun…”

“Pattadol gave me lunch,” Mithrun relented, “and I assumed we would eat together now.”

“I’ll have someone bring food for you,” Kabru said, more to himself than anything.

“Not for us?” Mithrun asked.

“I’m not hungry,” Kabru said, waving a hand.

“You still need to eat,” Mithrun said, “As I do.”

Kabru paused at that. It wasn’t exactly a point he could argue with, considering all the times he’d coaxed Mithrun into eating despite a lack of interest. Still, the idea of eating right now was making him feel a bit queasy. He felt more stable now, more grounded, but his appetite seemed to always struggle to return after bad spells like that. The memories lingered, he supposed. Who would feel hungry after seeing what he had seen, after all?

“Don’t think,” Mithrun said, snapping Kabru out of his reverie. “Speak.”

Kabru huffed out a short laugh. “Is that a demand?”

“Yes.”

Kabru leaned back on his desk, letting out a quiet sigh before continuing.

“I just don’t feel hungry. I usually don’t when it gets bad like that like that.”

“Could you stomach something small?” Mithrun asked.

“Maybe,” Kabru said. “I don’t know,” he continued more quietly.

“Is there anything you’d want? Anything at all?”

And, well, he supposed there was one thing, but it was a desire that could never be fulfilled.

Kabru thought back to his mother’s cooking, on the rare days when she wasn’t exhausted from work and had the time to prepare something a bit more involved. He remembered being very small, sitting in their cramped kitchen and watching with interest as she went through the process of cleaning a chicken, singing softly to herself as she worked.

But he didn't want to say all of that. 

“…I miss the food I’d have in Utaya,” Kabru said instead, and it wasn’t a lie. “I feel like I can never recreate things quite right. I don’t know. I miss a lot of things about Utaya. It feels like all anyone ever talks about anymore is the tragedy, but there was so much there before that...” Kabru reached up to rub at the back of his neck. “Sorry, that's not really an answer, is it? I should just-”

“You should tell me more about it,” Mithrun said abruptly.

“What?” Kabru asked.

“Utaya. Before.”

Kabru couldn’t help but feel hesitant at the prospect. 

“...Why?” He pressed.

Mithrun shrugged. “It seems like you’d like to.”

“You don’t want me to,” he said. “If I get started it could take hours.”

“Then take hours,” Mithrun said easily. “I owe you that much, don’t I?”

Kabru thought back to Mithrun spilling his whole life story to him, a near stranger at the time, every last rambling detail he could remember dribbling from his mouth. He supposed Mithrun had a point.

And maybe it would be nice, to talk more about it. To preserve what scattered childhood memories he gripped like precious gemstones now. To bring back what he lost, just for the fleeting moment it took to describe a memory. Maybe it would be nice, to share it, to lighten the burden of carrying it all alone.

“...I’m getting the food first,” Kabru said, before he could get distracted further. “You’re not worming out of that.”

“I’m not the one who’s trying to,” Mithrun quipped.

“Hush,” Kabru said as he fixed his shirt, trying to look less like someone who’d just been unconscious for a significant portion of the day.

“Two meals,” Mithrun said in a tone that left little room for argument. “One for you.”

“Fine, fine,” Kabru muttered as he made his way out.

Kabru slipped out into the hallway, wondering what he should tell Mithrun as he walked. He considered what memories he should have curated from the start, what details from them he should leave out. It was the sort of thing he always thought about before bringing Utaya up these up these days, the sort of image he wanted to present of it.

But then, maybe he would just tell everything as it came to him. Just this once. He’d decide once he returned.

Idly, he also considered what it would take to make the kitchens capable of adequately recreating some Utayan dishes, things he remembered but hadn’t had in years. They were definitely missing some key ingredients at present, maybe a few spices that weren’t so common on this side of the ocean. Though he supposed Melini’s trade network was growing by the day now...