Bouncing Kadachi

Ratha gives a childish shake as they tumble out of an updraft. The skyfowl squawk indignantly at them as they zip past, but otherwise do little more than complain from a distance. When Adrean stretches his arms wide into a picture-perfect azure sky, it’s with a wide grin on his face, the likes that’s seldom seen back in the confines of the castle. He could stay up here forever, where the breeze was gentle on his face and the sun was warm against his skin.

A distance ahead of them, there was a familiar flash of cream. Fawn spins into an aileron roll with a playful flick of her tail when Ratha roars out a greeting. Her saddle is empty, so Adrean gives Ratha his head to do as he pleases while he turns his eyes downward. It’s not long at all before he spots Simon’s miniature figure stepping away from the shade of their massive tree, waving a little arm as he walks out onto the windswept grasses.

Delight floods through Adrean at the sight of his best friend. His chest is filled to bursting with all the things he wants to tell him after an afternoon spent traipsing through the countryside. Ratha must sense his eagerness, because the wyvern turns with a lazy dip of his wing and starts his downwards approach towards Simon.

But Adrean doesn’t want a slow descent. He wants to talk to Simon now—wants to hear his friend grumble that his peaceful afternoon was now being derailed with no true heat behind his words. “C’mon, Ratha,” he says, leaning forwards in his seat as his partner’s wings fold and they start to drop with more purpose. “That’s more like it.”

Simon’s started to jog now. Adrean gauges his pace with a critical eye, then tugs his goggles onto his face. When he pats a hand on Ratha’s powerful neck, the wyvern turns his great head to look over his shoulder, as though surprised his Rider was still there.

Adrean grins widely. “I’m going, you impatient lug,” he says fondly. Then he’s tipping himself out of Ratha’s saddle in one easy movement, laughing as he goes completely weightless for one brilliant moment before gravity remembers itself and he’s falling back down towards the earth. Even then, he felt more like he was floating in a windy pool, completely unencumbered and free. Like this, with Ratha at his back and Simon below, picking up his pace into a flat run, there wasn’t a single scrap of fear in his body.

It’s not until he’s close enough to actually hear Simon hollering that he deploys the miniature paraglider. His body jerks as the sails snap open, knocking another breathless laugh out of him that just grows giddier when he sees Simon getting into position and realizes that he’s calculated it perfectly this time. A few more feet down, and then he’s letting go of the paraglider altogether, launching himself further forward with a swing of his legs. His arms wind tight around Simon’s shoulders when he slams into the other man, hands burying into his hair as Simon grunts, his own arms coming up to lock in a vice grip around Adrean’s torso. They swing into a spin, going round and round in circles, until at last Simon trips over his own feet. Then they’re both groaning and laughing in turn, their joy carried high into the sky on the fluff of all the dandelion puffballs that they disturb as they go tumbling down into the grass.

“You need to stop doing this,” Simon wheezes. There’s no real bite in his words though, and more crucially, he makes no move to let go. Adrean makes a few piss-poor attempts at stifling what remains of his laughter before giving up entirely in favor of burying his face into Simon’s shoulder. Simon pinches him in retribution, which only sets off another round of giggling.

“One day you’re going to end up flat on the ground,” Simon says sternly. “Is that what you want? To be a pancake?”

Adrean gathers himself with great difficulty, rolling just far enough away that he can tip his head back to look directly into Simon’s eyes. “But that’s impossible,” he says, the sheer confidence in him knocking all the breath out of Simon’s lungs. “Not when you’re there to catch me.”

There’s a horrible lump in Simon’s throat that makes it difficult to say anything, but he tries anyway. “Always,” he chokes out. The look that Adrean gives him is devastating in all its naked trust, its effects still ruthless even when Simon plants a hand to the back of the prince’s head and shoves him back down to the tune of a muffled yelp of indignation. Adrean squirms when Simon holds him, so Simon just squeezes harder, until at last they settle, both of their hearts thudding together in tandem.

“Always,” he repeats, with feeling, eyes sliding shut as Adrean hums in agreement against his throat. It’s the truth—it’s never been anything but the truth—but maybe if he says it enough, there’ll finally be a day when it stops feeling like a lie.

.

The air is acrid, and Adrean cannot breathe.

He will probably never again be able to, actually, not with the way his chest felt like lead. The useless remains of his lungs are filled with smoke. His mouth fills with grit when he heaves for air. The world is muffled but for a split second, before the roar of the flames come rushing back in, and it brings with it a terrible keening noise, shock and misery crystallizing into a singular note of such inhuman despair that it takes Adrean ages to realize that it was coming from him. But it couldn’t—it couldn’t—his throat was lacerating itself with grief, how could it possibly produce noise—

There is rubble all around him. He scrambles over broken terrain until he can’t anymore, until loose stone and gravel force him down to his knees. His eyes are gritty from dust and ash and tears. Simon was trapped somewhere in this unbearable heat, and Adrean’s fingers scrabble at the rock, because if he’s not here then he’s surely behind the next one, or the next, or the—

“That’s enough!” cries a voice, verging on begging, and then there are arms around him, softly warm and terribly devastating. Adrean wants so badly to fight, but his first instinct is instead to just latch on with the vice grip of a lost child seizing upon the first familiar thing in a scary sea of unknowns.

Kora hauls him away with all the nonnegotiable strength of a life spent desperately holding onto those determined to slip away, uncaring that he drags his feet every step of the way. He hates her in that moment, hates her with a ferocity that would have knocked him down if his sobbing wasn’t already doing that, but more than that he hates himself. Hates himself for leaving Simon behind—for leaving Simon—for leaving—

Gravy hunkers down as they approach him, Ratha’s head popping up from behind his rocky shoulder. Both of them rumble with concern as Kora manhandles Adrean until she can shove him up onto Gravy's saddle. He makes no move to steady himself, and instead lists dangerously towards the opposite side until Ratha uses his own head to forcibly prop him up. The wyvern only moves away when Kora hauls herself up behind the prince and gets her arms firmly around him.

“We have to go!” she shouts to the two monsties, ignoring the way that Adrean was frantically shaking his head. “It’s too dangerous here!”

“We can’t—!” Adrean cries, hiccuping around another sob as Gravy launches himself into the air. Ratha roars as he follows, Rudy leaping onto his empty saddle at the last minute. “Simon’s still down there—!”

Kora’s arms squeeze tighter around him. The last time she’d held him like this, she thinks with a jolt, he’d been nine and similarly filthy with soot, sobbing after Amara had left them. So much had changed in the ten years since, but this—this powerlessness to offer him any true comfort as he hunched over, trying to make himself as small as physically possible—was heartbreakingly the same.

Legia punches through the clouds and wheels into position next to them as soon as they break from the tree cover. Gaul’s face is grim as he takes them in: Adrean a shuddering mess, Kora petting through his hair in a desperate attempt to calm him, Gravy and Ratha straining to find a flight path that wasn’t too turbulent. He gives a rough jerk of his chin towards the general direction of Azuria Castle, a silent command, and Kora doesn’t argue. 

“Ratha!” she calls instead. “Take us home!”

Ratha gives a shake of his head, and for one moment Kora thinks that he’ll refuse to lead. But then he’s giving a mighty beat of his wings and banking wide. Gravy follows him, the path smooth as butter, and Legia falls in line at their rear. The fires of the border battlefield rapidly fall away behind them, until at last they make it over Mirror Lake, where the night air was fresh and sweet. It’s silent save for the beating of their monsties’ wings and Adrean’s hiccuping breaths as his sobs subside.

The flight strip is empty when they touch down. Ogden and Thea come running out from the base. It takes Ogden only a single look before he’s planting a hand on Thea’s shoulder, spinning her around and instead sending her off to fetch the Stablepaws. Gaul leaps off of Legia in one smooth movement, the Furtive Five appearing out of seemingly nowhere as soon as his feet touch the ground. “Get the prince inside,” he says shortly, turning away and striding to Ogden with purposeful steps before Kora could even answer him.

Not that she had planned to in the first place, as she was much more focused on getting Adrean down without him ending up in a miserable little heap at her feet. Rudy and Murray are at her side in seconds once they’ve both dismounted, and then Kora is whisking Adrean away. Murray guides them down side corridors and little-used hallways, pulling short whenever they neared one of the castle guards. Finally, after a series of near misses and with Kora bearing more and more of Adrean’s weight, they make it to a set of familiar doors.

“Your Highness, please,” Rudy says, hastily dragging over a chair as soon as they all stumble into the prince’s room. Adrean collapses into it like a marionette whose strings were abruptly cut, soot flaking off of his clothes with the rough movement and scattering all over the stone tiles. At some point in the evening he’d lost his gloves, so his hands are filthy and scraped raw. His eyes are wide and faraway, red-rimmed and puffy. To both their horror, he’d cried hard enough that the blood vessels in one eye had even burst, leaving a spot of red in the sclera. There was also a cut on his lip that was still sluggishly bleeding, and standing stark against the dirt smudged on his face, just below the damaged eye, was yet another smear of blood.

Rudy squeaks in dismay as he takes it all in. “A head wound is a serious matter, Your Highness!” he cries, scrambling to a side table for the first aid kit. It takes visible effort for Adrean to pull himself back to the present, and he ignores Rudy’s squawking as he lifts a trembling hand up to the offending cheek.

“Oh,” he says quietly. It’s unreal how much devastation he’s managed to pack into that one little syllable. “It’s not—it’s not mine.” The admission brings a wave of fresh tears that smear messy tracks all down his face. Rudy drops the kit in a panic and instead yanks out a handkerchief, flailing wildly when all Adrean does is clutch at it in confusion.

Murray clears his throat. “We should call His Highness a bath,” he says. “It won’t fix everything, but there’s a certain comfort in being clean.” The surety with which he spoke made it seem like he was pulling from prior experience, though from what exactly, neither Kora nor Rudy knew. Still, it seemed a reasonable idea, and Rudy was already nodding along, muttering about soaps and oils, though Kora frowned as she took in Adrean’s dazed state.

“I worry about the tub,” she says at length. Both Felynes’ attentions snap to her immediately. “It’s quite wide.”

Rudy’s instantly puffing up in outrage. “His Highness would never—!” he hisses out. But Kora just looks at the prince and thinks of how he’d nearly slipped right off of Gravy’s saddle, head so clouded by grief. 

“He wouldn’t ever want to,” she agrees with Rudy, “but he might still accidentally. I’d rather not risk it.”

“A basin, then,” Murray says diplomatically. “That should still provide enough water to get the job done. I’ll go fetch it.” Rudy looks as though he wants to argue more, but Murray slips away before any objections could actually be made. Kora smiles down at the Royal Palico, though it’s more akin to a grimace.

“No use wasting any more time, then,” she says. “Let’s get the prince out of his armor.” It’s a task that both she and Rudy were clearly glad to have, though it was painful to note how still Adrean was as they unclasped his pauldrons and vambraces. He put up no fight as they peeled him out of his outerwear, going piece by piece until he was finally down to just a linen undershirt.

“I’ll get these to the laundry,” Kora murmurs, piling the dirty items together in a basket as Adrean finally stirs to robotically pull off his boots. She gives the prince one last look, jaw working as though physically chewing on her words, expression torn with indecision. In the end, though, all she says is: “If anything happens, send for me at the base."

“Of course!” Rudy chirps, distracted and with only a fraction of his usual self-assuredness. He was far more preoccupied with getting his paws into Adrean’s messy hair, gently trying to untangle the bands from his braids.

It takes more willpower than Kora had anticipated to shut the door on the defeated slump of Adrean’s shoulders as he lowers his head for easier reach. The hallway is silent as a grave, and she shudders as a draft brings a bout of cool air. There was logically little more she could do, except to leave things in Rudy’s care and perhaps to ask the kitchen staff to send up some tea. Unfortunately, like all the times before, knowing her limits did not make accepting them any easier.

.

Murray had thankfully had the foresight to instruct the maids to leave the requested supplies by the door, rather than bringing them directly into the room, thereby preserving the prince’s dignity. When the perfunctory knock comes, Rudy waits a beat just to be safe, and then opens the door to find a stocked trolley. There’s a washbasin and small wooden pail on the lowest tray. At the top, a steaming pitcher of hot water sat beside a stack of fluffy towels and a case of clean bandages. And in the middle was a covered tea service, hastily but carefully assembled with bite-sized slices of soft cake, tiny squares of chocolate, and little dishes of pudding and mashed fruit.

“Please excuse me,” Rudy says as he pries his crumpled handkerchief from Adrean’s hands. The prince hisses as warm water envelopes his scrapes, eyes sparking to life at the sting, though he manages to hold still as Rudy murmurs more apologies. Ointment is hastily dabbed on, and then Adrean is left to watch with tired bemusement as Rudy struggles to wrap it all neatly. It takes him a few tries, but he manages eventually, tail swishing with self-satisfaction as he reaches for a clean towel. 

Adrean makes no move to remove his shirt, the effort seemingly beyond him. Rudy opens his mouth as though to comment, but thinks better of it. Instead, he wipes at Adrean’s wrists, carefully rolling up the sleeves until he can clean in smooth movements all the way up to his elbows. He’s quiet and concentrated as he carefully kneads healing cream into each of the rapidly purpling bruises that he discovers.

“Your face now, my prince,” he says at last, pouring out more water into the basin and dunking in a new towel, wringing out the excess water. To Adrean’s great consternation, Rudy dodges all of his halfhearted attempts to grab the towel.

“I can still wash my face by myself,” he says softly. Rudy shakes his head vehemently, clutching the dripping towel to his chest like a lifeline.

“I’ll not let your bandages get wet,” the little Felyne says firmly. Adrean attempts a glare, but is unable to hold it. It’s with no small amount of triumph that Rudy wrings out the excess water and skips back into his space, but he’s far gentler than Adrean would have been, touch tender as he works around the eyes. In no time at all, tears and grime have been wiped away, leaving his skin rosy from the warmth. Rudy heaves a sigh of relief when he discovers that Adrean had been telling the truth about the blood on his cheek, and carefully works his way down, until even the skin hidden underneath the shirt’s collar is clean.

Adrean toys with the edges of his bandages as Rudy cleans up, looking up only when a cup of tea is held within his view. When he shakes his head, Rudy sets it aside, though he returns not a moment later with some plain water instead. “You must drink,” he insists, holding his ground as Adrean tries to nudge the cup away. “You’ve shed enough tears that I fear you’ll become dehydrated. Please, Your Highness. Just a few sips will do.” Then, hopefully, Rudy could get a bite of food into him too, and finally maybe get the prince bundled up into bed.

But Adrean’s mouth only thins into an unhappy line. “I appreciate your care, Rudy,” he says. “But I really can’t. I don’t—I don’t have the appetite for anything.”

They fall into a stalemate then—Rudy insisting, Adrean refusing—until Rudy at last pulls out his greatest weapon: “Shall I get Kora?” he asks, viciously stamping down on the instinctual way his hackles want to rise up at the idea that he, alone, was not enough for the prince. This was his prince’s wellbeing at stake, he tells himself sternly. His personal pride would just have to take a back seat for the time being.

It has the desired effect, as Adrean immediately pulls a face, brows drawing together in a pinched expression. Rudy makes as though to go for the door to really sell the threat, and Adrean heaves a deeply put-upon sigh before holding out his hands. It’s with no small amount of relief that Rudy passes the cup over to his prince, watching like a hawk as he brings it to his lips. Adrean holds it there for several heartbeats, not drinking and simply looking pained, before he takes a cautious sip.

Slowly, Adrean makes it through half the cup before he lets out a shuddering breath and hands it back. The cup has barely left his fingers before he suddenly goes green in the face, though. Rudy lunges for the little pail, shoving it forward just in time for Adrean to grab it and retch, hands white-knuckled on its sides. He makes a miserable little noise as his head resurfaces, turning his face into the towel that Rudy hastily holds up. 

“Perhaps some tea will stay down easier?” Rudy squeaks out, frantic. Adrean only shakes his head, grimacing as he takes back the cup to have another mouthful of water, spitting it out into the pail with a groan before pushing it away.

“Have mercy,” he croaks out. “Please, Rudy. Mercy.” Rudy does not whine, but it’s a near thing. Instead, he smooths a paw over Adrean’s back and pats it as soothingly as he could. They lapse into silence for several long moments, marked only by the ticking of the clock, until at last Adrean shakes himself out and straightens up.

“Do you think we could go back?” he asks. Rudy stares at him, not comprehending, but Adrean’s eyes are fixed firmly on his bandaged hands. “To the crash site. To—to bring Simon back.” He swallows thickly, eyes flickering briefly to Rudy and then back to his hands. “We can’t leave him there. He deserves a—a proper burial, at least.” His eyes are suspiciously bright again.

“I will petition His Majesty first thing in the morning,” Rudy promises, desperate to keep the tears at bay. “Oh! But that reminds me.” He tugs at his jacket, digging through the folds until he manages to pull out a pouch. It’s instantly recognizable, even singed at the edges and with dirt smashed into the fabric. “I found it amongst the rocks,” he explains as he puts it into Adrean’s trembling hands.

“I—” Adrean starts. His voice falters as his fingers trace the worn stitching. “Thank you,” he says at last, turning a tremulous smile to Rudy. “This means more to me than I even know how to express."

“I know it’s a poor substitute, but I’m happy so long as it can be of some comfort,” Rudy says earnestly. He mews in surprise when Adrean reaches out and ruffles his fur. 

“Is Ratha at the stables?” he asks, pushing himself slowly to his feet. He sways for one precarious moment before he manages to steady himself against the backrest. Rudy’s first instinct is to beg him to try to drink once more, but memory of the last failure holds his tongue. Instead, he just nods mutely.

As if sensing his thoughts, Adrean’s gaze lands thoughtfully on the neglected tea service. “You can leave it here,” he offers. “I just—for now—hm,” he pauses, pursing his lips as he tries to gather his thoughts. “I just want to be with Ratha,” is what he settles on eventually. “Perhaps my appetite will return later, when I retire for the evening.”

“Yes, of course,” Rudy says immediately, relief evident in his voice. “I’ll send for a warmer so that the tea will keep. Would you like some savory bites, as well?” He must look so pathetically hopeful, because Adrean pauses mid-refusal to reconsider, and then nods. 

“A cheese sandwich would be nice,” he admits shyly.

Adrean braces himself against the door, gathering his courage. When he opens it, it’s to an empty hallway, which thankfully seems to settle his nerves. Yet his chin still wavers as he winds his way through the castle, pausing every now and again as his gaze turns faraway before he wrenches it back into the present. When they make it to the final doorway before the courtyard, he lingers on the threshold, eyes turning up towards the moon. Rudy fidgets at his feet until he can bear the silence no longer, and before he can scold himself out of it for the blatant breach in propriety, he’s tugging at Adrean’s pant leg. 

“If you don’t feel up to it, you can return to your quarters, Your Highness,” he says, tone edging into a plea. “I’m sure Ratha will understand.”

“Hm? Oh, it’s not that,” Adrean murmurs softly, almost distracted. “I don’t think it’s that at least. It’s nothing important—let’s not worry about it.”

He shakes his head, as though the matter was over and done with, but all his words have done was make Rudy more worried. “Your Highness,” he tries again, refusing to continue until Adrean is looking properly at him. “Anything that’s enough to worry you is important to me. I have failed in my duty to you if you have ever thought otherwise.” Tears threaten to cloud his vision, so he blinks them angrily away. “I was assigned to your household—I am your partner. I’m not impurrtinent enough to assume that I can take on all your grief, but if there’s anything that I can do to help you share the burden, I beg that you at least let me try!”

Adrean gives him a look of such genuine surprise that it makes his heart ache. But then his prince’s face softens into a smile. He kneels down until they’re eye level, fingers petting through Rudy’s fur. “It’s not like that, Rudy,” he says gently. “I’m just—I’m feeling a way that even I don’t know how to put into words yet. I—”

He looks to the sky again, and Rudy follows his gaze. Asides from gray splotches of clouds moving in though, he’s not entirely sure what to look for. But Adrean’s gaze is thoughtful as he considers them. “I used to jump, you know,” he says all at once. Rudy jerks in alarm, but Adrean doesn’t seem bothered. “I used to let Ratha take me high, and then I’d just jump from his back and free fall back down. Nothing but miles of sky, and the wind whistling in my ears.”

He climbs back to his feet, dusting off his knees, turning slowly until his back was to the stars. “Ratha at my back,” he says softly, “and Simon, below. No parachute, for the most part. No ground. Always someone to catch me. But now—”

His smile wavers as he abruptly cuts himself off, and Rudy is suddenly struck with the thought that his prince was very, very small. “There’s nobody left now,” Adrean says miserably. For one moment, it looked like he had more to say, but he just swallowed whatever it was back down with a shake of his head.