Áedán

The prince was not unarmed, of course, with a sword dangling visibly from his hip, but he would be reluctant to use it. Especially since they were outnumbered anyway. In a fair fight, they might be able to make it - even though he was not yet aware of Aedan's fighting skills - but not in an unfair one. These bandits, as he now called them, were not fair fighters.

Reluctantly, Conláed also got up and extinguished the fire by scraping earth over it with his feet. He did it slowly, deliberately. The bandits waited. “I'll untie Kas.” He didn't do that very quickly either, unwinding the reins from a tree branch and patting the horse's muzzle.

Run away if it gets dangerous, he wanted to tell him, but only spoke the words in his head.

Conláed led him next to Aedan, past the men. There was so much written in the look he gave him, but he couldn't say anything out loud.

He sensed danger lurking behind him as they set off. One of the men suddenly quickened his pace to keep up with Aedan, telling him something he couldn't understand.

They left the last trees lining the forest when Conláed suddenly stumbled. One of the men had pushed the handle of his weapon into his hooks, causing him to fall forward. Barely supporting himself with his hands on the earthy ground, his eyes shot up. The man now stood in front of him, the razor-sharp blade of his scythe directly under his chin. One move and it would slit his throat.

“Give us the horse.”

Aedan remained frozen, holding his gloved hands up in an attempt at proving they were obedient. The concealed hunting knife was little comfort at that moment. ‘The horse?’ His throat strained. He wasn’t in the mood to negotiate with these pricks anymore. But the sharp blade under the fleshy part of Lian’s throat meant that didn’t matter. 

He glanced between each of the men. They were outnumbered, overpowered. Perhaps he could save the horse? At least Kas could flee. But then there was the boy on all fours, waiting to be executed by some country bumpkins. 

‘And the sword. Fancy piece of kit, that,’ one of the poachers said, wandering towards Lian and the other one. ‘How much did that cost?’ 

Aedan flicked a glance at the lone poacher lurking next to him. Babysitting him? His brows furrowed. He could gut that one but it would leave Lian surrounded. 

Clearing his throat, Aedan’s voice came out hoarse. ‘Lad, let these men look at the horse.’ He tried to communicate with his eyes that he needed Lian to comply. But the terror was also visible. 

Kas snorted and stomped, as if he knew the intentions of these humans. 

Aedan shushed Kas with a simple tutting sound and murmured in his mother tongue something that eased the beautiful stallion’s mind. But that was enough to terrify the poachers. 

‘What the fuck was that?’ one of the poachers said, turning his attention to Aedan enough to remove the sickle from Lian’s throat. ‘What the fuck did you say to it?’ 

So he didn’t give much of an answer to Aedan, let the medicus draw his own conclusions. At the next question, about making things better from the inside, the gladiator hesitated a moment. He wished that he could believe that could be true. “You’re a good man.” He said honestly before he lifted his head at the shouts. One of the men had been hurt and Aedan was needed.

He was on his feet and rushing to the injured man before he even realised what he was doing. ‘Move!’ He shoved the massive gladiators out of his way and immediately dropped to his knees beside his patient. 

The wound looked worse than it was. Dark red blood pooled and overflowed from between two folds of skin in the patient’s side. But there was nothing to panic over. Aedan pulled his glove off to reveal his heavily scarred but clean hand and placed it on the wound. It would have to be good enough to staunch the bleeding for now. 

That was when Aedan glimpsed Gannicus crossing the sands. He had been so distracted by his patient that he hadn’t noticed that he volunteered to take the patient’s place.

‘Gannicus!’ Aedan called to him but couldn’t get the words out. He wanted to tell Gannicus that he needed rest. But he had to accompany his patient inside, instead. 

In his small clinic, he threw himself into washing the sand out of his patient’s wound and stitching him back up. His mind kept drifting back to Gannicus. Images of him fighting the able-bodied men, straining his injuries. 

‘Damn it! Be careful.’ His patient snarled through gritted teeth, his hand catching Aedan’s wrist. ‘Pay attention to what you’re doing.’ 

Aedan murmured an apology and continued stitching the two folds of skin back together. He had to tell himself that Gannicus had survived this long and there were more men waiting for Aedan’s medical help. He was just so used to only mending one man at a time. It was hard to spread his attention between many, especially when so few spoke the same language as him. 

‘There.’ He wrapped the wound in clean bandages and told the patient to check in with him to have them changed. He didn’t believe the patient when they agreed. 

When he was done and cleaned up, Aedan returned to the training grounds, shielding his eyes from the sweltering midday sun. He couldn’t make out Gannicus among the haze of churned up sand and swirling bodies but paranoia gripped him.

‘Ah, medicus!’ The smooth, light voice of Batiatus drew Aedan’s attention as he joined him. ‘Can you see him anywhere?’ It looked like their Dominus was also looking for Gannicus. 

He was on his feet and rushing to the injured man before he even realised what he was doing. ‘Move!’ He shoved the massive gladiators out of his way and immediately dropped to his knees beside his patient. 

The wound looked worse than it was. Dark red blood pooled and overflowed from between two folds of skin in the patient’s side. But there was nothing to panic over. Aedan pulled his glove off to reveal his heavily scarred but clean hand and placed it on the wound. It would have to be good enough to staunch the bleeding for now. 

That was when Aedan glimpsed Gannicus crossing the sands. He had been so distracted by his patient that he hadn’t noticed that he volunteered to take the patient’s place.

‘Gannicus!’ Aedan called to him but couldn’t get the words out. He wanted to tell Gannicus that he needed rest. But he had to accompany his patient inside, instead. 

In his small clinic, he threw himself into washing the sand out of his patient’s wound and stitching him back up. His mind kept drifting back to Gannicus. Images of him fighting the able-bodied men, straining his injuries. 

‘Damn it! Be careful.’ His patient snarled through gritted teeth, his hand catching Aedan’s wrist. ‘Pay attention to what you’re doing.’ 

Aedan murmured an apology and continued stitching the two folds of skin back together. He had to tell himself that Gannicus had survived this long and there were more men waiting for Aedan’s medical help. He was just so used to only mending one man at a time. It was hard to spread his attention between many, especially when so few spoke the same language as him. 

‘There.’ He wrapped the wound in clean bandages and told the patient to check in with him to have them changed. He didn’t believe the patient when they agreed. 

When he was done and cleaned up, Aedan returned to the training grounds, shielding his eyes from the sweltering midday sun. He couldn’t make out Gannicus among the haze of churned up sand and swirling bodies but paranoia gripped him.

‘Ah, medicus!’ The smooth, light voice of Batiatus drew Aedan’s attention as he joined him. ‘Can you see him anywhere?’ It looked like their Dominus was also looking for Gannicus. 

"No, I don't want to hear about him. But it's not because of what you think," Arron added with a bit of arrogance on his voice, coating every syllable. "You showed me great power a few nights ago. You showed me that you were capable of moving mountains and breaking walls with just your mind... you clearly are no victim. Yet here you are, defending that... creature." He paused, letting the weight of his words sink in. The vampire turned to look at Aedan, a dark, knowing smirk playing on his lips. "It's... an interesting study in contradictions."

He slowed the car as they approached a sleek, unassuming building in a quieter district. The architecture was modern, all clean lines and smoked glass, a stark contrast to the ostentatious mansion they had just left. Arron parked expertly in an underground garage, the engine's purr replaced by the echoing quiet of the concrete space.

‘But Arron doesn’t know the things you’ve done,’ one of the voices hissed in his head. ‘Would he run if he knew? Would he kill you?’

Aedan wetted his lips, fingering the collar around his neck. He climbed from the car, breathing heavily though his nose as he tried to look cool and collected. 

‘I never said I was backing out of our deal.’ His voice was low and quiet, but he clenched his jaw to sound more resolute. 

Following Arron into the building felt like walking towards the executioner chair. But the only one who was dying would be Dunne. 

‘Good riddance,’ one of the voices said. ‘Let that psycho burn.’ 

"People, well yes I meet them," he began, his voice a low, resonant murmur that seemed to fill the small space. "I meet people all day. Their names, their pets' names. Their fears. I am a… a temporary relief for their unspoken fears. I hold their anxieties in my hands for a few minutes, give them a blessing, and send them on their way." He paused, scratching Branwyn behind the ears with a deliberate, gentle pressure that made the dog's whole body melt. "It is a beautiful thing, this work. But it is like standing at the edge of a river, Aedan. I can watch the water flow, I can touch it for a moment, but it is never my own. Everyone leaves. And I remain. Here."

The simplicity of the statement was heavy. He wasn't just a vet in a clinic; he was a fixed point in a world of constant motion. He looked up then, and his eyes locked onto Aedan's, the professional warmth now replaced by something more direct, more personal. It was a gaze that acknowledged they weren't just talking about loneliness in the abstract anymore. They were talking about this room, this moment.

His posture shifted subtly. He leaned forward slightly, his broad shoulders seeming to block out the sterile light from the overhead fixtures. The scent of clean linen and a hint of earthy spice from his skin seemed to grow stronger, pushing back the antiseptic smell of the clinic. He wasn't just Toño the friendly vet anymore. He was a presence. A solid, grounding force in the room.

"So yes, I meet people," he repeated, his tone softer, more intimate. "But it is rare for someone to look back." His gaze flickered down to Branwyn, then back to Aedan. "It is rare for someone to see the man, not just the coat."

Of course Aedan saw a vet when he came here. He was always of a one-track-mind when he was worried about one of his animal friends. But that was a terrible oversimplification. 

From the first time Aedan met Toño, he had felt as if he had stepped into the rainsoaked autumn woodland. And when Toño had told him Branwyn was okay, it felt like the pale white sun had shone through the canopy to warm him. Aedan had never felt like that with anyone before. 

‘You’re not just a vet,’ he finally spoke, running a gloved thumb over Branwyn’s soft ear. ‘But I don’t know what you are, yet.’ He cracked a nervous smile at Antonio. ‘Maybe you’re secretly two dogs in a coat?’ It was supposed to be a joke, but his dry tone and awkward smile gave him a naive sincerity he really shouldn’t have at his age.

‘But…’ He cleared his throat, trying to undo the embarrassment he began to feel over his stupid joke. ‘It doesn’t have to be like that, right?’ He was a man of few words, so trying to find the right ones didn’t come easily. ‘You’re the only human I speak to for weeks, sometimes.’ Except Niall, who he usually just offered cups of tea to when he came to muck out the stables.