gloire à mes genoux

He hasn't seen his brother in years. The thought of leaving without a chance to even contact him again - because who knows if Galfrey had respected his damned wish and sent word to Lev about Leonor's vague whereabouts and the fact that he's alive - makes his heart skip a few beats.

So he turns, swallows the bitterness in his mouth, trying to summon the happiness he knows he's felt already for the joyful reunion. Of course he wants his lover to see his brother again. That doesn't even come into question. Between the fresh wave of anger at Galfrey, at Alushinyrra, at world at large, he knows he's happy for Sosiel and Trever. Feelings and emotions aren't quite the same.

Leonor turns on a bedroll. There's no screaming tonight. Sosiel mumbles something sleepily and drapes a bare hand on Leonor's hip. It is far too hot, even for Leonor, but he doesn't have it in him to pull Sosiel's arm away.

Unfortunately, Arueshalae spies him and their eyes meet in the low light. Her eyebrows raise, question in her gaze, but Leonor shakes his head. Not now. It'll pass. All is well.

Not all is well. Leonor thinks about Galfrey, about Alushinyrra, about slavery, about Trever, and finally, about Brevoy. About Lev. What plans is he making in Leonor's absence? Has he started on his major goal of Brevic domination yet? Does he think of his little brother?

They used to ride in Gronzi Forest, just the two of them, lost for hours at a time. They'd pack a bit of food, grab their cloaks and horses and ride off, enjoying the chilliness of the country that bore them both. Leonor recalls sitting by a big, imposing tree, book in hand, all while Lev was napping away on his brother's shoulder. It was mildly uncomfortable, considering their height difference, and Leonor had a hard time turning pages.

Nevertheless, he did not move. Lev's hair, as dark as the tree behind them, tickled his cheek. He was so pale, almost pale as snow. His eyelashes fluttered beneath dark, bushy eyebrows. It was a shame to wake him.

It made Leonor think about the phonetics of words on the page. Did you know how this letter and that go side by side and why do we say this and not that? And Lev listened, intently, asked questions about things he did not understand. Leonor's been told they look alike, as far as facial features go. Does curiosity look the same on him as it does on Lev?

They talked of things Leonor would have preferred to keep to himself. They laughed at stupid jokes, inside ones as well, and the world as as empty and as big as the forest itself.

And now, Leonor risks not going on rides with Lev ever again because of fucking Queen Galfrey.

He feels bitterness in his nostrils. It climbs up, into his eyes, like acid. He expels it into the rough headrest of his bedroll.

Next morning - mornings are relative in the Abyss, anyway - Leonor moves aside to make potions. It's a common enough work for him that others would not be immediately alerted, but his friends are perceptive. He grinds and cuts and cast ritualistic spells; at one point, he looks up to wipe the sweat off his brow when he catches Arueshalae cast him a look over her breakfast.

Leonor looks away, embarrassed. He pours the potions neatly into old, worn bottles, trying to not feel her boring into his soul like this. She does not mean to, of course, but Leonor's always been weak to succubi.

He pointedly doesn't approach anyone after he's done; instead, he picks one of the bottles and walks softly over to Trever.

"Hi," Leonor says, in a gentle voice. There's a certain cadence he can get - a calming, steady deep tone that he's been told doesn't quite match his presence. He doesn't know what to make of that comment, he just knows it does help put patients at ease.

"Commander," Trever replies roughly, eyes squinting.

"I won't bother you much," Leonor starts, lingering. "May I sit?"

Trever looks at Leonor, and then at his hands. "It is your camp."

"It is your space, though. If you are not in the mood for company, I can come later."

Trever is silent for a long time. Leonor waits, toying with the rolled sleeve of his shirt. Finally, his face softens a little and he nods.

Leonor nods his head in thanks and sits carefully by Trever's side. There is some likeness, this close, between him and Sosiel. Sosiel doesn't have the visible scars, though. Sosiel's hands are different too - calloused, yes, but whole and hale. Trever's mangled hand makes Leonor cringe in sympathy.

Gods, that wound healed so badly. It's a wonder he can swing a blade as well as he can at all.

"You are Sosiel's friend, yes?" Trever asks, in an odd tone.

"Lover, if you'd believe it," Leonor replies with a smile. He then glances at Sosiel, who's taken a break from a conversation with Seelah to look at them with unrestrained affection and surprise.

Did he truly believe Leonor would not try to make a good impression on his lover's brother?

"I'm glad he's happy," Trever says quietly. Leonor has to strain to hear him. "You are good to him?"

"I try to be," Leonor replies. "If I ever fall short of that, I assure you I'll make necessary amends to make it up for him."

Something flickers in Trever's eyes. He then simply nods.

"If you'd let me," Leonor continues, "I can - sometimes and as needed - take care of you. I am a healer, you see. While I cannot help much with troubled minds, considering my own is a mess I have no idea where to start sorting, I can make the physical side of the ache easier." He offers the vial. "For sleep. Calms fitful dreams. Keeps you calm after waking too. I apologize if it tastes horribly, my ingredients were not.. of the highest quality, taste-wise."

Trever looks between him and the vial. He takes it roughly and opens it, takes a sniff. Apparently satisfied, he closes it again.

Leonor laces his fingers together in anticipation.

"Thank you," Trever grunts out, but his voice sounds genuine. "That is very thoughtful of you."

"Don't mention it," Leonor says, chipper. "Daeran and I are responsible for keeping everyone safe and hale, and that includes—"

"SPEAK FOR YOURSELF, LEONOR," Daeran shouts from halfway across the cave. "I DID NOT SIGN UP FOR THIS POSITION, YOU SIGNED ME UP!"

"— as I was saying, that includes trying to salvage what little peace of mind we can salvage." Leonor stands up. "I won't bother you anymore. Take care, Trever. Let me know if this helps and if I should make more."

Arueshalae's eyes follow him when he goes to sit back. Before he's able to, however, she touches his arm. "A moment of your time?" she asks. Leonor nods and points at the cave entrance. She follows suit. Soon enough, they find themselves by the end of the trail, above the sea of fire.

It's a little harder to pretend now that they're not surrounded by people. It's easy to imagine a similar cliff, a plane away, with water crashing against the shore. Leonor waits for a sound that doesn't come, but feels like it could.

"Why were you crying last night?" Arueshalae's question is not mocking nor accusatory. She does not demand. No, her voice is soft, concerned and sincere, direct in a way that doesn't feel invasive.

Leonor closes his eyes. "I miss my brother," he says, quietly. "Sosiel got to see his and I may never see mine again. Galfrey could have asked, you know? She didn't have to be so cruel about it. Alushinyrra is getting to me." He laughs, brokenly. "I just miss my brother, Arueshalae."

"Bitterness looks strange on you," Arueshalae says, not unkindly. Her wing rubs against Leonor's hand. "Anger, too? You are never angry, Leonor. You have every right to be, but you are not."

"Oh, trust me, I am both bitter and angry. I am grieving. I want to burn this whole city and rebuild it in goodness' name. The slaves, the torture, the callous treatment of people… We do this to people in Golarion, true, but here? It is bare. It unnerves me." Leonor looks at his feet. He then looks at her. "I fear I am not the same person you met in Drezen, Arueshalae. I fear I am worse than him. Or was I always this way? I don't know. I wish I understood. I wish I cared less sometimes." His lip trembles. "I just miss— I just miss the way I was, and I want these decisions out of my hands, but they don't want to leave me. I miss my brother."

The sea of fire below is as still as it ever was. Leonor wants to yell at it into motion.

"Do you think I'm a bad person, Arueshalae?"

Her head turns so fast in his direction he's afraid she'll harm herself. She stares at him, utterly bewildered by the question. "Desna, no! I am a bad person, Leonor, but you? You're helping us all! You offered Trever something to help him sleep, knowing he has nightmares! You have endless patience for me, even though I don't deserve it. You buy slaves to save them. How can you be a bad person?"

Leonor sits on the ground and buries his face in his hands. They're so rough. "I'm not trying hard enough," he bites out. "I have a halo around my head and I'm not trying hard enough. If I was, the crusade would be won already!"

"You are just one man," Arueshalae counters, sitting by his side. "Just one mortal man. Regardless of your powers, you are just one person against the world. You should have some compassion for yourself." She says the word compassion like she's not exactly sure if she's using it correctly. "Extend to yourself what you extend to others."

Leonor's shoulders shake. He's not sure if he's crying or laughing. "I think you should listen to your own advice, then. You're trying harder to do good than most people I know."

"In this party?"

"World at large." And then quietly, and mostly to himself, "Some of our party, too." Camellia's unnerving smile swims in his mind and Leonor shakes it away. And as much as he loves Daeran, he can't say that Daeran is particularly trying to do good, not to the extent Arueshalae is. And Regill.. He doesn't voice this, though. He lets the words die.

"I am a demon, Leonor. I don't deserve compassion - I need to earn redemption first." Arueshalae's brow furrows.

"My point exactly."

"What is?" Her eyes go wide. "Leonor! You are nowhere near me!"

"We should all have more compassion for ourselves, but it's hard to do it. I cannot summon it, as you cannot." He gives her a weak smile. "Hell is just the place for self doubts."

She shuffles closer. Shyly, delicately, she puts a hand on Leonor's arm. Her touch is hesitant. "I think you're the best of us," she says softly. "I don't know how much it helps, but that's what I think. You worried me when you were crying and unable to sleep."

"Thanks, Arueshalae. I'll try to— I'll try to not worry you. Sorry about that."

Arueshalae doesn't respond. Instead, she moves her hand from his and covers his back with her wing. They sit in companionable silence, neither one compelled to speak any further.

Later that day, Sosiel finds him. It's difficult to find a quiet corner in a cave full of people, but Leonor managed to do it. By all accounts, he should have been annoyed that his little modicum of solitude was broken. The world is not vast and empty; Leonor's patience for others' presence, as much as he loves them, has never been particularly high. But somehow, he doesn't mind it when it's Sosiel.

Just like he did not mind when the forest's only inhabitants were him and Lev.

It's a strange thought.

"Am I interrupting?" Sosiel asks.

"No, no, I was just— thinking." Leonor shuffles to the side, to make space. "A lot has happened recently."

"It has," Sosiel says, going on one knee to be more at eye-level with Leonor. He reaches out and tucks Leonor's curls behind one tapered ear. "I know how much you value silence and time for yourself, so I will not bother you much. I just wanted to say that I saw what you did for Trever." His voice catches in his throat.

"He's a member of our team," Leonor whispers. "It was a kind thing to do."

"I appreciate it nonetheless," Sosiel counters, cupping Leonor's cheek. Leonor leans into it. "What did you talk about with Arueshalae?"

"I'll tell you later," Leonor promises. "Nothing accusatory. She just spotted something and made me confront it before I was willing to."

Sosiel's dark eyes widen in worry. "Are you alright?"

Leonor smiles sadly. "Ask me in a few months. Right now, I need to get out of the Abyss."

Sosiel's thumb strokes Leonor's face. "If you ever need someone to talk to, you can come to me."

Leonor knows that. He leans into Sosiel's touch fully, hoping to absorb some of the certainty of his words. Spending time with Arueshalae helped. Sosiel's hand - beautiful, calloused, tender and hard all at once - feels like a grounding. But the feelings remain, all the doubts and all the anger, just subdued. They're buried under his skin and he isn't sure if he's ever going to get them out.

"I know," Leonor replies softly, closing his eyes.

And maybe that's the truth of it. Nobody can leech the feelings away from him. It's his burden to bear. Other people are just making it easier to redistribute the weight.

Sosiel lets go at one point. Before he rises, however, he kisses Leonor on the lips, chaste and gentle. Leonor watches him go, almost wishing to call out and tell him to come back.

He doesn't, though.