#cabal oc

She reaches out, trembling fingers pressing against bruised skin. When he doesn’t respond, her chest clenches, anxiety welling to the surface as her hand fits into his.

Wake up. Please–

“Ah, Guardian.” The medic greets, finally approaching her and drawing her gaze from her husband.

She takes a step toward him, nodding to Acrius pointedly. How is he?

“He’ll be alright.” The medic begins, pulling up his file on his med pad, “Severe burns, broken ribs and a dislocated knee. Given time, he’ll make a full recovery.”

“Will he wake soon?” She manages, squeezing Acrius’s hand.

“Undoubtedly. You’re welcome to stay, talking to him might bring him around faster.”

She nods slowly, “Thank you.”

The medic nods and departs, leaving the Young Wolf alone with Acrius.

The Young Wolf hoists herself up onto the berth beside him, lifting his hand carefully before letting it rest in her lap. Her fingers trace along the pads of his, desperate to see anything in his features as he lay there.

He looks pained as is. Not at peace, but struggling, fighting as he so often does.

“Wake up, Acrius,” she pleads softly, barely able to find her voice.

She isn’t sure how long she stays there, clutching his hand tightly, but at some point - some point, she finally notices his jaw.

The story Caiatl had told her, about Acrius’s past. About his injury - it doesn’t look as horrendous as she described. Perhaps time had lessened its severity but the Young Wolf has seen much worse. It doesn’t faze her.

She smiles slightly, leaning forward to press a kiss against his jaw as she squeezes his hand.

You’ve hidden so long, haven’t you?

Her smile falters as she takes in the rest of his features, the pain still lingering in the scrunch of his eyes, the wheeze with every breath, the labored rise and fall of his chest.

She can ease his pain, can’t she? Her Light can–

She sets her jaw. A Warlock might be able to. A healing rift, perhaps but Hunters? Can her healing grenades soothe some of his discomfort?

The Young Wolf looks over her shoulder - the medic is occupied with another patient across the room. She has to try. She can’t stomach seeing him suffer.

Her eyes close as she draws upon her Light, manifesting a healing ‘nade in her palm. She looks toward the medic once more, ensuring he hasn’t noticed anything before she turns back to Acrius.

This will help. It has to.

She carefully presses the Light against his chest, soft waves washing over his form and she watches his features ease a fraction, gradually softening to something resembling relaxation. His breathing evened out, less a strained inhale and exhale and more sound.

It did work.

“Guardian,” Saladin’s sharp voice captures her attention and her eyes snap toward the source. The Light in her hand dissipates quickly as the Iron Lord steps up to her. “You know that isn’t permitted.” His voice is soft yet stern.

“It helped,” she returns quietly, gripping Acrius’s hand a bit tighter.

“Hardly. You can’t have known that would work, let alone if his body would tolerate it.” Saladin tilts his head, standing beside the medical berth, “The Light is not meant to heal the Lightless, Guardian. It’s dangerous for him to be subjected to it.”

Her head lowers, her eyes flitting to Acrius as she lifts his hand, resting her cheek against it. “He’s–”

“Healing on his own,” Saladin lays a hand on her shoulder, “Have patience. He’ll awaken soon.”

Her jaw flexes but she nods regardless.

The Iron Lord withdraws and reaches for something, his Ghost transmatting Acrius’s knife into his hands. “He was awake for a brief amount of time when they brought him in. Asked me to give you this when you arrived.”

She stares at the weapon for a long moment, “Did he…say why?”

“No, I’m afraid not.” He sets it on the stand beside Acrius’s mask. “But I’m sure he’ll tell you himself when he awakens. But for now,” he lays a hand on her forearm, “No more Light, understood?”

She nods again, shifting her focus back to Acrius.

“Have heart, Young Wolf. He's nothing if not resilient." He touches her shoulder gently before leaving her alone.

The Guardian repositions, laying down on the berth before she lays her head on his shoulder. His hand twitches against her thigh and she manages a smile.

"I'm right here," she whispers, squeezing his hand, "Always.".

—----------------

There's a steady weight on his shoulder.

Acrius’s features contort, willing himself into a state of awareness before the pain strikes him and he grimaces.

Then, a warm body. Something holding his hand and he doesn't need to open his eyes to know who it is.

He curls his hand tighter around his wife's, tucking her closer against his side as his head lulls toward her.

She groans softly before her form goes rigid and now he knows she's awake. Her hand is tugged free and suddenly she's leaning on his chest, anxiously touching his face.

He huffs out a pained noise as he removes the breathing mask. He's quick to try and guide her off his chest and she nearly falls off the berth trying to accommodate him.

"Settle, Little One." Acrius rumbles, slowly opening his eyes. She's there, staring down at him with a worry he's never seen. Her palm is soft against his cheek and he smiles slightly.

"You're a welcome sight. When did you return?" His voice is more hoarse than he'd like but he fights through it, carefully lifting his hand to cradle the side of her head.

There are tears in her eyes and Acrius’s brow furrows. "Don't do that. I'm fine."

She looks down, yet the tears fall and his features soften. "Come here," he sighs, guiding her close for a hug.

She resists at first, gesturing to his ribs but he snorts, "Lay where I guide you." She relents and he maneuvers her along his side, resting her head on his shoulder. "There. I'm not broken."

She smiles up at him and his chest clenches. Traveler, he loves it when she does that. He reaches down, tucking a strand of hair away from her eyes.

"I'll be alright, Hunter. Don't fret."

"...as your wife, it's my duty to fret." She manages, inclining her head into his hand.

"Using my own words against me. At least I know you hear them."

She lifts herself upright, placing a hand just beside his head to support her weight before she leans down, pressing a kiss to his cheek.

It's then he realizes his mask is not in place.

She can see the scars. The marred remains of his jaw and mouth. He starts to turn his head away, knowing it's too late and useless but she gently guides his head back.

There is no horror in her eyes. A warmth maybe. A gentleness he rarely is treated to as her eyes trace along his features.

"Why are you staring at me like that? I know you've seen worse but–" He hesitates, "This is not a sight you should have to endure. Hand me my mask."

"You broke that," she chuckles, leaning down to rest her forehead against his.

"I have another in our quarters. If you could–"

She kisses him then, silencing the thought in an instant and Acrius’s breath catches. Another kiss and his mind catches up, he gently grips her shoulder and presses her up a fraction.

"You don't have to pretend, my love." He murmurs, "I wouldn't fault you for…closing your eyes and doing as I asked."

She smiles, her eyes finding his own before she speaks. "There's nothing I'd hate to do more, Acrius. I love you, all of you. Scars included. You don't frighten me, nor does this," she presses a kiss to his jaw, over the most damaged portion of his face.

Acrius lets out a shuddering breath, his fingers smoothing along her waist as his eyes sag shut. He lets her kiss along his jaw, slowly, deliberately until she hovers over his mouth.

She's waiting for permission this time. Waiting for him to either push her away or tug her down but he doesn't have the heart to do either. Surely this is a torment to her?

"Do as you please," he murmurs, opening his eyes to find her focus squarely on his features.

"Tell me what you want." She coaxes, tilting her head in that adorable manner he loves. It makes her more endearing somehow and she only ever uses it when she's trying to convince him of something.

Right now, it seems, she wants to convince him that she isn't repulsed by his scars.

"Little One–"

"Do you want me to kiss you?" She asks softly, searching his eyes intently.

"I–"

"Yes. Or no, my Valus. There is no third option."

His breathing is shallow as he tightens his hold on her waist.

"Yes." He manages after a moment and her gaze softens. "I want you to kiss me, Little One. Longer than I'd like to admit."

"Then no more arguments." She smiles, almost smug about getting him to admit it.

"Get down here," he grumbles, a little sheepish about it now.

She obliges all too happily, kissing him deeply and Acrius groans his approval. His hand slides up her back, pressing her closer to him but the pain that tears through his frame is harder to ignore than he'd like and he eases up.

She's smiling, obviously aware of the consequences of his overzealous grip but it isn't enough for her to withdraw.

But when she does, when she lifts herself away with a warm smile, Acrius can't help gazing up at her as if drunk. Drunk on her affection. Her kiss. Her touch. Her.

She is more than he could have ever hoped for.

How did humans put these feelings into words? Ah, yes.

"I love you," he murmurs softly, tracing the length of her spine as his Hunter smiles down at him.

"I love you, too, Acrius."

The Young Wolf takes his hand and as she starts to speak, the medic makes an appearance.

"That mask shouldn't be off yet." He all but growls at Acrius.

"My breathing is fine." Acrius defends.

The medic glances at the Hunter, her face flushes as she diverts her gaze to their hands. "Yes, I could see that. What I don't see is you getting out of here for at least a week."

Acrius narrows his eyes, readying himself for an argument before his wife gently kisses his palm and lessens his indignance.

"We'll need you here until we can ensure your knee is still stable. The rest will heal unencumbered so long as you follow my restrictions."

"Your restrictions often require time away from combat. We can't afford–"

"She is immortal. You, Valus, are not. So if you hope to have any chance of lasting another few centuries with her, you'll heed my advice."

The Guardian chuckles softly, stealing a glance toward Acrius. She's smiling again but there's a brightness in her eyes. A gentle sort of excitement as she traces along his knuckles.

She's obviously just relieved he's alive. Which means, she'll back the medic and enforce the restrictions if he tries to defy them.

"Do I have your word?" The medic presses, leaning on the medical berth.

Acrius heaves a sigh, "For her…yes." He grumbles, squeezing her hand and she looks like she approves.

Good. He'll do whatever it takes to keep those tears away and keep that smile he enjoys so much.

"Right. I'll fit you for a brace later. For now, rest. Do not," he points at the Hunter, "get him worked up."

She feigns innocence as the medic departs and Acrius snorts.

"Worked up, huh? Been awhile since anyone has suggested that." He remarks smugly.

And her cheeks flush a second time.

"Getting flustered, Little One?" He teases, squeezing her hand.

"You should go back to sleep." She returns, squaring her shoulders. She's trying so hard to look unaffected but he knows better.

"Why? Just woke up and my wife is right here." He says and she swats his bruised forearm. He flinches but the smug smile doesn't falter.

"You're in no condition to be making suggestions." She snorts, "Focus on being able to walk first."

Her eyes drop to his hand, smoothing her fingers over his knuckles slowly. His smugness falters and he trials his thumb along her thigh.

"What are you thinking about?" He questions, watching her features with a degree of concern.

"I could have lost you." She manages, looking over at him. "If they hadn't--I wasn't here when you needed me. I–"

"You were exactly where they needed you, Little One."

"But not where you needed me."

"You're where I need you now," he smiles softly with a squeeze of her hand. “You are their greatest strength, their greatest weapon, Hunter. You cannot be all places at all times.” He guides her hand over his heart, watching her spine straighten a fraction, “But being here now? That is all I need from you, Little One.”

She smiles slowly, repositioning slightly to lay her head on his hip, smiling up at him.

“...Saladin said you wanted your knife given to me. Why?”

Acrius snorts, “Seems foolish now but…I wasn’t sure how grave my wounds were. I was hardly conscious when reinforcements arrived but,” he trails a finger up her arm, “do you know what all I could think of in that moment? When help arrived?”

“What?”

“You. And that damned guilt complex of yours.”

They both laugh, the Young Wolf presses closer, shifting her head up to his torso to be a little closer without laying on his ribs.

“I didn’t want you to think this was somehow your fault. The blade was, well…” His hand settles against the side of her head, stroking her hair lovingly, “I’m not sure. A memento, of sorts. Because if I were to die, I wanted it returned to you to remind you of me. I know it’s too large to suit its original purpose but you have a habit of carrying pieces of others with you. That…is the piece I’d want you to take of me. A weapon you taught me to use with a hilt you built yourself.”

“Of course,” he continues, smiling softly. “I knew you’d be inconsolable,” her cheeks flush and she smiles sheepishly. “In truth, I was more afraid of my death’s consequences for you. I never want you to blame yourself if something does happen to me while you’re away. Your role - it makes you irreplaceable. No one can fight as you do. Win the way you do. If I die fighting in your absence, know that I am unequivocally devoted to you and the fight we carry on.”

There are tears in her eyes but she nods all the same. Her fingers are bound around his wrist, her jaw clenched as she clings to him.

“Shh,” he murmurs, wiping a trailing tear away, “It’s alright. We’re alright.”

“You’re not leaving me that easily,” she murmurs, pressing her face against the palm of his hand. “Ever.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it.” He chuckles hoarsely. “Rest now. I’m sure you neglected yourself to get here quicker.”

She smiles, pressing a kiss to his skin and that’s all the confirmation he needs.

His Hunter won’t leave his side for a number of days, not without him practically ordering her to go shower and eat and just…exist beyond his bedside.

But there are no missions that she’ll accept. Not until she’s certain he’s well-tended to and close to being free of the medical bay. Not until Acrius initiates a kiss for the first time and tells her to go. To fight.

And fight, she does.

All the way to Eramis to put an end to this once and for all.

He couldn’t be more proud.

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