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You surge forward to catch him, lowering you both to the stone floor.

“Tired,” he mumbles, resting his cheek against your shoulder. You can feel the heat of his skin even through the material of your flight jacket — he’s burning up.

“I know, my love, I know, but I need you to stay awake for me,” you soothe, trying to keep the panic out of your voice. You pull his jacket open, looking for a gaping wound or some explanation for his exhaustion.

“He nearly burnt himself out,” Sìoda explains, relaying the message from Cuir, “But he is unharmed.”

You trust her, but you can’t risk it — you continue checking him over for any sort of injury, leaving no stone unturned. “I need you to tell me if anything hurts.”

“My head.”

You run a hand through his curls, checking for blood, but it’s not an easy task; his hair is damp with sweat and rainwater. You have to keep pulling back, looking at your palm for any sign of bleeding.

Bodhi just hums, leaning into your touch — he’s always loved you playing with his hair, and it’s the fastest way to get him to fall asleep, which really isn’t working in your favor here.

“Eyes open, honey. Keep talking to me, okay?”

“Okay,” he mumbles, blinking up at you slowly. “Gods, you’re pretty. I can’t believe that we’re married.”

“Me either, Bo. Me either.”

“I want to marry you for real, though. Wan’ a real ceremony n’ rings and everything. Already have… have my vows written out.”

“Someday,” you promise. “When all of this is over, and the continent is at peace.”

He doesn’t respond.

“Eyes open,” you prod again.

“Sorry,” he mumbles. “Just tired.”

“I know, honey. I am too. We’re going to take a long nap after this, but not yet, okay? I need to make sure that you aren’t hurt.”

He hums in acknowledgment, but you aren’t sure if he’s truly understanding you. Still, he lets you peel off his jacket and check him over for injury.

Nothing more than a bruise that you know is a few days old, from when he and Garrick got bored and decided to do… you still don’t know what exactly, but it probably wasn’t very smart. Boys will be boys.

“Alright. Let’s get you upstairs and showered, and then we can sleep.”

——————

As usual, your body wakes you up just before six — you don’t need the bells anymore.

There probably won’t be a formation this morning, with all the chaos, and the number of injured riders, plus the addition of the fliers, who aren’t really sorted into wings or sections, and the leadership changes; while nearly all of second wing had followed you to Aretia, the officers have elected a new wingleader to replace you. That’s going to be a really awkward conversation, but you really don’t want or need to have it today.

Bodhi is still asleep, his head resting on your chest. You work your fingers through his hair absentmindedly, letting your nails scratch lightly against his scalp. He hums appreciatively, moving to wrap his arms around your waist and nuzzle his cheek against your shoulder. “I just had the worst dream,” he mumbles. “We were back at school, n’ there were wyvern everywhere…”

Your heart aches. Of course that’s the conclusion he’d come to in his sleepy haze, that the last two days must have just been a bad dream, and that because you’re here together, cuddled up and safe in a comfortable bed, that you’re still at Riorson house.

“That wasn’t a dream, honey,” you say gently. “That all happened.”

He tenses, his eyes locking with yours. You don’t know what he remembers, but none of it was good, and he’d been separated from Xaden and Garrick…

“Everyone’s okay,” you soothe, still running your fingers through his curls. “We all made it through. You just overworked yourself a bit— you almost burnt out.”

That relaxes him a little, but he’s still not fully settled. “Are you okay?” He asks, sitting up and moving the covers, inspecting you for injury.

“I’m fine, Bo. Just some bruises.”

He finds them almost immediately, laying featherlight kisses to each of the three purple and brown marks. That seems to satisfy him, and he lays back down beside you, careful not to put pressure on them.

“You were cute last night. All mooney-eyed, asking me to marry you… like you were drunk.”

His cheeks warm. “It definitely felt like that.”

You can’t help but snort at the memory of him, Garrick, Liam, and Xaden, who had decided to raid Fen’s wine cellar on a warm summer evening, and each had a bit too much to drink. The other three had spent the night there, lying down to sleep on the stone floor, but Bodhi left to find you, and was incredibly clingy and kissy when he did.

Prying him off of you, and getting him fed and ready to sleep was a challenge, but the next morning, he was the only one of the four without a bad hangover.

“Thank you for taking care of me.”

“In sickness and in health, right?” you ask softly, fingertips tracing the smoke-like pattern of his relic.

“For better or worse,” he adds, his eyes catching yours.