Crossguards and broken blades

The night passed too quickly. At midnight, I would begin to become restless in my sleep. Tossing and turning and mumbling words too indistinct to understand. By dawn, I would be burning with fever.

I stare ahead mumbling so low it's impossible to hear until you return with the water and cloth. The shock of the cold compress is what really awakens me. My eyes flutter, then dart around quickly to look at all corners of the room as if they have something to hide.

"No" I croak, my tone urgent and insistent. "No, i-it's not safe. I have to go. I can't be here. I have to go."

I try to sit up too fast, which combined with the painful reminder of yesterday's danger forces me to lie back before you even need to wrestle me down again. Laughter, why do I hear laughter? I raise my hand to my forehead with a groan. Maybe if I can make you understand...

“No, Aris, you’re in the castle walls. Many guards protect us, my love—I can protect you, keep us safe. No one will find us. I swear it. Please, hold on, the healer is approaching quickly!”

My dear Aris… what have you seen? What have they done to you? What ails you? I wish I could enter that mind of yours so I may beat back any foes which fill it! I am helpless against a foe which is not truly here. All I can do is hold you and reassure you, until the fever passes and the healer helps you. Such a new feeling… uselessness in the face of danger to a loved one. I dislike it, but will furrow my brow and take it nonetheless—the only thing worse I can think of right now is not being near you. I pray that they do not rush me from this room, but allow me to stay.

Then the fit falls into a terrifying pattern. A jolt of energy, confused words about a perceived threat, a weak attempt at escape, then a swoon disturbed by violent shivers and teeth chattering. The healer, when they arrive, is able to witness the cycle first-hand as they check the wounds for infection. They ascertain that there are no signs of festering. The fever must be from a disturbance of the mind, they propose, or perhaps the body is purging itself of some hidden foulness.

My eyes fly open, then roll to the back of my head. My limbs once again flail around trying to get purchase to move, to get up, to do something, anything.

"Y-you- No. Can f-fight. Mus' go." One might even consider it pathetically endearing for a man wounded, feverish and deranged to claim with such confidence they were ready to get up and fight invisible demons no other can perceive. The healer, however, frowns without one hint of amusement.

I am saddened by your state, although it is indeed quite endearing that you still try to rise to fight. I ponder the healer’s thoughts… If this is a sickness of the mind, how can we help? How can I help? I cannot help but wish to aid you in some manner, even though I know not what I can do. Do you really need to be restrained? You are trying to leave to fight… But I do not wish for you to feel as though you are a prisoner.

“L-leave the restraints with me, I will stay with him and restrain him if need be. But perhaps merely the presence of a… friend… can help soothe him. Just—get a maid to check on us ever hour, okay? With cold water, and perhaps some bread if he can take it a little later. I’ll call to you if you’re needed again, thank you.”

It may seem that the delirium is about to settle into simple exhausted sleep, but I wake once again. Except, there is something different. I seem to be able to focus on your face enough to recognize it.

"... Theodore?" Instead of bringing calm, the recognition twists my face with a look of alarm and fear. "... No!" With a force that did not seem likely to remain under the present circumstances, I manage to push myself one with one violent movement. I stumble into you with an animal sound, supported more by your steady frame than my own bones.

Your snarl is unexpected, and I move to let you look in to my eyes, both hands caressing your face and guiding you to look at me. “Aris please, what haunts you? I shall fight it by your side! Let me in, let me help. Please.” My desperation is growing more apparent, shaken by your state and my inability to help. Could a wizard assist better? Have you been cursed in those woods? You were fine last night… weren’t you? A tear falls down my cheek, my heart aching. I must be able to do something, anything.

"Th.. There."

“The woods cannot reach you here, I swear it. W-whatever it is, we can fight it together. Just, get better first, please? Do not let it grip your mind. Focus on me. Please, lay back down?”

My tongue clings to the roof of my mouth, dry from the combination of fever and continuous mumbling, and for this reason my voice comes out rough. Yet somehow, it sounds much more present than it previously did.

"I... I think it left. F-for now." I whisper.

By every god, I hope that I am right. I must be, no? Large beads of sweat still trail down my face, but I feel some relief, as if the iron grip of sickness has gone slack and I can hope improvement is underway. It is with gratitude that I sink back into the pillows.

From my new vantage point I survey the room once more. Strange. A moment ago it seemed so dark and gloomy. Now I realize how it's brightly lit by the morning sun, as warm and cheerful as a man's sickbed can be. Then I turn to you to find the worry and dismay written all over your face. Guilt stings me deeply. I have brought trouble without end since I arrived. Nearly bleeding out, then requiring to be nursed and now... Now this. A chilling thought crosses my mind: could you be ready to regret last night's words? Perhaps, but it wouldn't be fair to press you on that so soon, not after you have been so kind. My eyes begin to wander while I mull this over, falling over the restraints left by the healer. There's a visible, full body shock, and without thinking I clutch my right wrist hard with my left hand. My mind wanders to darker places until I take hold of it again and try to school my expression into something approaching nonchalance, with mixed results.

What could one even say under such bizarre circumstances? So much has happened in less than a day. So much we need to talk about.

“Here, drink. It will help your fever.” My voice is warm, attempting to still soothe you. Your survey of the room piques my interest, my head cocked to one side as I furrow my brow and look to you with slight concern. Please don’t see it again.

Your reaction is sudden, and your attempts to hide it are not very well received—I push the restraints away, shoving them under the bed so as to be nearby but not be such a looming presence.

Your words break my heart. I slowly reach out my hand to you, not wishing to scare you further by sudden movements. “Shhh, no no, Aris you stop that, please. My heart is troubled no matter what—the worry comes whether you are right in front of me, or acres away. Because I care. And I’d much rather have you in front of me.” I smile, hoping to convey the fact you are no unwelcome burden.

"You are too kind, my dear. But you know well that I cannot disappear for days without a word as I heal under your watch. I have duties to attend." I try to force some humor into that statement, although I would have very much like to simply stay and let myself be cared by you.

"Yet... I have given you my solemn word to treat your heart with all loving kindness. So please, Theodore, tell me... What does that entail? I... I know that I am not the only object of your attentions. I do not question that. But I must know what is it that you desire from me."

My heart further softens as you hide the restraints and reassure me. I mentally chastise myself for not having controlled my reactions well enough.

In my sleep addled mind, I can't tell the difference between what is figment and what is reality.

But as my eyes blink open, I notice the very real wet stain on my braies where my leg was wrapped around my friend's.

I move to recoil in shame, but he grabs my leg and holds it against him, turning to look over his shoulder.

"It's all right, really."

He speaks so softly, so as to not wake the others in the shared space. He pulls the blanket tighter around us, muffling my pants into the space between his neck and shoulder.

I can feel his heart hammering against his ribs, and his shallow breath--his own excitement spurred on by my own.

As I move more roughly, he turns over, replacing his leg with a few calloused fingers, rubbing and pinching till I shudder and fall silent.

I move to feel the planes of his stomach, and let them trail over his braies which are noticeably wet as well.

"Do you want me to help you with that?" I sighed against his ear.

He blinks sleepily and smiles softly.

The night passed too quickly. At midnight, I would begin to become restless in my sleep. Tossing and turning and mumbling words too indistinct to understand. By dawn, I would be burning with fever.

I stare ahead mumbling so low it's impossible to hear until you return with the water and cloth. The shock of the cold compress is what really awakens me. My eyes flutter, then dart around quickly to look at all corners of the room as if they have something to hide.

"No" I croak, my tone urgent and insistent. "No, i-it's not safe. I have to go. I can't be here. I have to go."

I try to sit up too fast, which combined with the painful reminder of yesterday's danger forces me to lie back before you even need to wrestle me down again. Laughter, why do I hear laughter? I raise my hand to my forehead with a groan. Maybe if I can make you understand...

“No, Aris, you’re in the castle walls. Many guards protect us, my love—I can protect you, keep us safe. No one will find us. I swear it. Please, hold on, the healer is approaching quickly!”

My dear Aris… what have you seen? What have they done to you? What ails you? I wish I could enter that mind of yours so I may beat back any foes which fill it! I am helpless against a foe which is not truly here. All I can do is hold you and reassure you, until the fever passes and the healer helps you. Such a new feeling… uselessness in the face of danger to a loved one. I dislike it, but will furrow my brow and take it nonetheless—the only thing worse I can think of right now is not being near you. I pray that they do not rush me from this room, but allow me to stay.

Then the fit falls into a terrifying pattern. A jolt of energy, confused words about a perceived threat, a weak attempt at escape, then a swoon disturbed by violent shivers and teeth chattering. The healer, when they arrive, is able to witness the cycle first-hand as they check the wounds for infection. They ascertain that there are no signs of festering. The fever must be from a disturbance of the mind, they propose, or perhaps the body is purging itself of some hidden foulness.

My eyes fly open, then roll to the back of my head. My limbs once again flail around trying to get purchase to move, to get up, to do something, anything.

"Y-you- No. Can f-fight. Mus' go." One might even consider it pathetically endearing for a man wounded, feverish and deranged to claim with such confidence they were ready to get up and fight invisible demons no other can perceive. The healer, however, frowns without one hint of amusement.

I am saddened by your state, although it is indeed quite endearing that you still try to rise to fight. I ponder the healer’s thoughts… If this is a sickness of the mind, how can we help? How can I help? I cannot help but wish to aid you in some manner, even though I know not what I can do. Do you really need to be restrained? You are trying to leave to fight… But I do not wish for you to feel as though you are a prisoner.

“L-leave the restraints with me, I will stay with him and restrain him if need be. But perhaps merely the presence of a… friend… can help soothe him. Just—get a maid to check on us ever hour, okay? With cold water, and perhaps some bread if he can take it a little later. I’ll call to you if you’re needed again, thank you.”

It may seem that the delirium is about to settle into simple exhausted sleep, but I wake once again. Except, there is something different. I seem to be able to focus on your face enough to recognize it.

"... Theodore?" Instead of bringing calm, the recognition twists my face with a look of alarm and fear. "... No!" With a force that did not seem likely to remain under the present circumstances, I manage to push myself one with one violent movement. I stumble into you with an animal sound, supported more by your steady frame than my own bones.

Your snarl is unexpected, and I move to let you look in to my eyes, both hands caressing your face and guiding you to look at me. “Aris please, what haunts you? I shall fight it by your side! Let me in, let me help. Please.” My desperation is growing more apparent, shaken by your state and my inability to help. Could a wizard assist better? Have you been cursed in those woods? You were fine last night… weren’t you? A tear falls down my cheek, my heart aching. I must be able to do something, anything.

"Th.. There."

“The woods cannot reach you here, I swear it. W-whatever it is, we can fight it together. Just, get better first, please? Do not let it grip your mind. Focus on me. Please, lay back down?”

My tongue clings to the roof of my mouth, dry from the combination of fever and continuous mumbling, and for this reason my voice comes out rough. Yet somehow, it sounds much more present than it previously did.

"I... I think it left. F-for now." I whisper.

By every god, I hope that I am right. I must be, no? Large beads of sweat still trail down my face, but I feel some relief, as if the iron grip of sickness has gone slack and I can hope improvement is underway. It is with gratitude that I sink back into the pillows.

From my new vantage point I survey the room once more. Strange. A moment ago it seemed so dark and gloomy. Now I realize how it's brightly lit by the morning sun, as warm and cheerful as a man's sickbed can be. Then I turn to you to find the worry and dismay written all over your face. Guilt stings me deeply. I have brought trouble without end since I arrived. Nearly bleeding out, then requiring to be nursed and now... Now this. A chilling thought crosses my mind: could you be ready to regret last night's words? Perhaps, but it wouldn't be fair to press you on that so soon, not after you have been so kind. My eyes begin to wander while I mull this over, falling over the restraints left by the healer. There's a visible, full body shock, and without thinking I clutch my right wrist hard with my left hand. My mind wanders to darker places until I take hold of it again and try to school my expression into something approaching nonchalance, with mixed results.

What could one even say under such bizarre circumstances? So much has happened in less than a day. So much we need to talk about.