Work Text:
Nya was not having a good day. Being thrown off the edge of the bounty was not a pleasant experience and subsequently getting lost in the woods did not improve her mood.
“Gah— we’re so turned around,” Nya huffed, jumping over a root as they ran. She’d nearly tripped at least seventeen times already and didn’t need an eighteenth repeat. “I have no idea how far out we are.”
Beside her, Lloyd blew out a long, heavy breath that could almost be a frantic sigh, or maybe an attempt to get rid of a side ache. “I know, just keep going. We have to get to the ritual of the Blood Moon before—” He stopped in his tracks so abruptly his heels skidded mini ruts into the dirt and drew in a series of heaving gasps.
Nya scrambled against her own inertia and rounded on Lloyd. His hands shot up to his hair and he began tugging, tugging, tugging—
“Lloyd, what’s wrong?” She screeched. Lloyd gave a whine and crashed to his knees, Nya jumping in close and grabbing his arm. The muscles were wound tense beneath her grasp from how tightly he’d balled his hands in his hair. His eyes darted around, screwed shut, and shot open again. “Lloyd?”
“Not now, not now,” he panted, pulling harder on his hair. Nya grappled for his hands and shoved her fingers between his but she couldn’t get through to pry him apart. “Noooo.”
“More visions?” Nya breathed, half a question and half a realization. Her heart beat a frantic rhythm against her ribs.
“C-can’t let them come,” Lloyd heaved by way of answer. “Have to force them to— to go away.”
Before Nya could even begin to formulate a reply, Lloyd gasped in a strangled wail. His eyes glossed over and stared at nothing, fingers switching to steady intervals of clench-unclench-clench-unclench.
“L-Lloyd?” Nya murmured, even though she knew it was fruitless. She reached out to touch his quivering form. His breaths came as rapid wheezes. “Lloyd, it’s okay. You’re okay. Take a breath.”
He couldn’t hear her— not that she expected him to. He moaned agan— a pathetic, pain-drenched cry— and bowed forward until his forehead grazed the ground of the forest floor. He swayed once, twice, three times, before finally teetering over and thudding onto his side. Nya followed him down. He gasped again, and then he was quiet; horribly, utterly quiet, as he shook and jerked minutely under Nya’s palms. If Nya didn’t know any better, she would’ve thought he was seizing. A little part of her was afraid he might be.
Her thoughts leapt back to the moment they’d toppled off the Bounty. They’d hit trees and fallen endlessly through the branches, he could’ve easily hit his head on the way down. That could trigger a seizure.
Delicately, Nya slipped her fingers into Lloyd’s hair. They danced across his scalp and around his own hands— her continuous attempts failed against his death grip— searching for a gash or a bump or bruise. Miraculously, he had nothing more than the occasional pine needle buried amongst his hair. He didn’t feel abnormal warm either— no magic fever (things were weird enough, who wasn’t to say the storm caused a magic fever or something!) boiling his brain and causing a seizure. But then there was Lloyd’s endless stress, his erratic sleep. None of those had caused seizures before but again, things were weird enough that anything was possible.
And then Lloyd gasped in a greedy breath of air, followed by several smaller, erratic breaths, and he gave a cry of fear. He rocked back and forth and resumed his tugging at his hair. His eyes blinked and rolled and blinked again, tracking the trees and roots instead of nothing at all.
“Lloyd,” Nya said, quiet and startled. He yanked hard on his hair and tried to curl away from her. “Lloyd!”
“M-make it s-stop,” he barely managed between his heaving breaths. “I hate it, I hate them.”
“Hey, it’s okay, you’re okay,” Nya said, maybe a little too quickly. “Take a breath, Lloyd, try to breathe. You’re back here, you’re okay.”
Lloyd drew in a slower breath— still too fast, but not as fast— and pushed it out again. He drew in another, and repeated, shuddering between. Nya ran one hand up and down Lloyd’s tensed spine, using the other to try to loosen Lloyd’s hands from his hair. His fingers twitched and gradually released the strands, which were left crumpled and damp with sweat.
“There, see, you’re okay.”
Lloyd whined. Nya guided his hands away from his head and he all but melted into the forest floor. The whole ordeal couldn’t have been more than a minute or two, but Nya felt as if she’d been crouched at his side for an eternity. Her abused ribs ached as her heart slowed to a more sensible tempo. Nya could take on nearly any threat without fear, but Lloyd's visions really did spook her. They spooked him, too, obviously.
“What did you see?” Nya asked after she felt as though another eternity had passed. Lloyd just screwed his eyes shut and shook his head. She ran her hand up his neck to ruffle his hair before returning to her ministrations along his back. “Okay, that’s okay.”
“S-stop,” Lloyd choked out. “Stop, Nya.”
“Stop what?”
“Treating me like a child.” He rolled over and caught her wrist. “Thanks for trying to help but— but I’ve had visions before. I’m fine.”
“I’m not treating you like a child, Lloyd, and you’re obviously—”
“No, I’m fine,” Lloyd insisted, then winced and dug his knuckles into the side of his head. “Seriously. I don’t know why I freaked out so bad this time.”
“Hey, it’s okay to—”
“The Blood Moon Ritual,” he interrupted. “We’re running out of time. We have to go.”
Nya spent a long time surveying him, the colorless, hollowed face, the tremoring, the odd haze to his eyes. But he was right about the time crunch. They needed to move. “Okay,” she finally said. “Let’s go.”
She helped pull Lloyd to his feet and then they were off again. Lloyd stumbled once over a root, distracted, but otherwise seemed steady enough. So there they went, off through the trees, off to save the day once more.