Night Foxbear

Muriel dreams of the haunting scraping of metal blades against the Coliseum ground. He dreams of unseeing eyes staring straight through him; of boos and jeers reverberating through his mind loudly enough to send pain shooting across his temple. 

Nadia dreams of her city falling to ruin. She dreams of abandoned city streets, silent and decrepit; of civilians with reddened eyes begging her for help; of the world outside the castle disintegrating until she is the only person left to make sense of the wreckage. 

Portia dreams of her brother: accused of a crime he didn’t commit and sent to the gallows. She dreams of locking eyes with him, seeing one final word fall from his lips before the guillotine falls with a deafening crash.   

Asra dreams of losing you—of watching the light fade from your eyes as he holds you in his arms, powerless for the first time in his life. 

And Julian? Julian dreams of his own execution; of that disillusioning dinner shared all those years ago; of crimson eyes burning into his skin; of a curse delivered to him disguised as a gift. Fortunately, Julian’s nightmares become less frequent after the revelation that he’s innocent—and the subsequent innocent verdict. And when Lucio is vanquished and the plague is eradicated, the others begin to forget their sleepless nights. 

Your nightmares, however, only increase in frequency. After all, you only recently learned that you died from the plague. You hadn’t wanted to believe it at first, but it just makes too much sense. The grief in Asra’s eyes… his elusiveness… your headaches and memory loss… that inexplicable déjà vu when you first saw Julian in your shop… It makes a disturbing amount of sense. As time passes and you begin to accept it as the truth, your memories begin to return. They slowly emerge from a hazy fog, assailing you in the strangest of moments. Idly—perhaps foolishly—you hope that the return of your memories will give you peace. Instead, they only incite further torment. 

You try to hide your nightmares from Julian. You wake up breathing heavily and quietly slip out of bed before he notices. But one night, you lurch forwards—tossing and turning loudly enough that you unknowingly rouse him. You suppose it was inevitable. If Julian is bothered by the disruption, he doesn’t show it. 

“Hey,” Julian murmurs, his brows furrowed as he pushes himself up to a sitting position. You rub your eyes roughly, struggling to ground yourself in reality. When you take a slow breath, you can still feel the stiff, heavy air of The Lazaret. “What’s the matter?” he frowns, looking concerned. 

You just shake your head silently.

“Hey, you helped me through all of my problems,” Julian reminds you. “The least I can do is help you.”

“You already have,” you say quietly. And it’s true—Julian has already done so much for you. He has placed his trust in you time and time again, even when you didn’t have the confidence to trust yourself. 

Julian looks momentarily surprised by your remark; a blush then rises on his cheeks, before he shakes his head. “You’re having nightmares,” he states, waiting for you to elaborate. After a few seconds pass and you remain silent, he sighs. “Come on. Being stubborn and self-sacrificing is my thing.”

“You are pretty good at it,” you acquiesce, letting out a choked huff of amusement.

“Aren’t I?” Julian smiles, puffing out his chest pridefully. It’s clear he’s trying to lighten the mood and you find a smile threatening to rise on your lips. 

The two of you sit in silence for a while, until you can utter the words. “I keep dreaming about The Lazaret,” you admit. Something flashes in Julian’s eyes. You know the building is an unpleasant reminder to Julian too—albeit for different reasons than yours. You take a slow breath and shakily smooth out the covers, desperate for something to focus on. But you can’t avoid Julian’s attentive gaze, even if it’s a patient one. “The memories are coming back to me.”

Julian’s eyes widen as he catches onto what you’re saying. He reaches out and grasps your forearm, looking distressed at the thought of you experiencing those horrors all over again. “I should’ve been there,” Julian says hoarsely. He looks across the room to the open window, where the starry sky stretches across the horizon. There’s pain written all over his face. He pulls his eyes back to you, as if imploring you to blame him. 

You just shake your head. That’s not why you’re distressed; moreover, you don’t want Julian to blame himself for things that were out of his control. “I just…” you murmur, finding it increasingly difficult to verbalize your feelings. “When I close my eyes, I’m crumpled on the floor there… decaying behind those walls. And I can feel the hunger gnawing at my stomach; the pain running through my arms and legs; the red tinting my vision; and… the loneliness.” 

“We live alone and we die alone,” you recite. The cool night air from the window sends goosebumps across your skin. “I know that. But…” The words die in your throat. 

Julian immediately pulls you into an embrace, his hand rising to support your head as he leans into you. His grip is stronger than normal, as if he’s reassuring himself that you’re still here. You hold him in return, fighting back tears. Your throat is burning. The memory of your death is so raw and real. You can recall it with frightening ease—can nearly feel the blurred haze of pain and discomfort. 

“You’re not alone,” Julian reassures you. You bite the inside of your cheek. He brings a hand up to cradle your jaw, his eyes gleaming. “Not anymore. Not when I’m here.” 

“That’s not something you can promise,” You murmur. Asra told you something like that too, once upon a time. But then he distanced himself, because the sight of you was enough to provoke intense grief within him. You know he didn’t mean to harm you… but it hurt regardless. 

“I can and I will,” Julian asserts, looking uncharacteristically sincere. He brings his hands to your shoulders and leans back, locking eyes with you. “That won’t happen. I won’t let it.” He pulls you into his arms again and you allow yourself the fleeting comfort. 

You’re not sure how long you stay there in Julian’s embrace. All you know is that, at some point, his voice breaks through the silence. “How long have you been having these nightmares?” 

And there it is: the very question you'd be hoping to avoid. You feel guilty that you’ve been hiding them from Julian, but at the same time, you didn’t want to bother him with your distress. You tell him as much, which only brings a frown to his face. 

“I know this is hypocritical coming from me, but… you don’t have to suffer alone,” Julian says, brushing his fingers across your knuckles. You clasp his hand and meet his eyes, surprised by the sheer depth of emotion gleaming in them. “Let me help you, the way you’ve helped me countless times already.” 

“Okay,” you agree reluctantly. You can almost see the relief in Julian’s expression, as his shoulders visibly relax and he takes a slow breath. 

“Good,” Julian says. His fingers trace your cheekbone and a look of unmistakable fondness crosses over his face. There’s a slight smile on his lips, unmarred by his typical bravado. A few seconds later, he seems to realize what he’s doing and he pointedly clears his throat, his cheeks flushed in embarrassment. “We should try to get some more rest. If at all possible.” 

But his hands remain cradling your face and he hasn’t made a move to separate from you. You blink at him, waiting for him to retreat back under the covers and close his eyes. 

Several seconds pass and nothing happens. “Sorry, I—” Julian blinks, a shy smile rising on his face. Then something like amusement takes over. “I seem to be stuck.” You roll your eyes fondly; eventually, Julian lets out a theatrical sigh and removes his hands. You both know Portia will have your heads if you’re late to breakfast again. With that recognition, the two of you burrow back under the covers. This time, you don’t bother to pretend to maintain some distance—instead drifting towards the middle of the bed and closer to each other. A sudden sense of tranquility washing over you, you fall asleep easily—knowing that whatever your nightmares produce will fade in the face of Julian’s steadfast presence. 

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