#niveus

He heard voices next to the bed - Tern, the Lady, maybe others - but couldn’t bear to raise his head.

»Northridge?« The Lady’s voice was unbearably soft, and a rush of naked humiliation strangled him. How dare she talk to him like that, like he couldn’t take her normal voice?

But he couldn’t fight back.

He didn’t want to.

»I know it hurts, but we’re going to have to clean your wounds.«

No, Gods! Please. He bit back a groan, swallowed more tears at the mere thought of his back being touched.

He couldn’t bring himself to agree, although he knew she was right. It was all he could do to keep quiet.

He muffled his screams and sobs into the mattress when the wet rag touched his back, dabbed over him with some smelly healing brew that yet did little to assuage the pain of it being applied. His head spun until he thought he would faint - then, before he could sink into unconsciousness, it was over.

Once more, he had to gather himself while his back felt like it was burning away.

»We’ll leave you.«

He heard the door, but he knew he wasn’t alone.

Tern took his hand. He knew it must be Tern - no one else had ever touched him so gently. He was grateful he had waited until the others were gone before extending the gesture.

Niveus held as still as he could, waiting - praying - for the pain to simmer down. He tried to focus on his breath, tried to move from shuddering sobs to steady breathing as if there was nothing wrong. As if he could handle himself.

He couldn’t stop his thoughts from circling, amidst the pain underpinning everything, around Tern.

Tern, who had taken more lashes than this from him.

Tern, who had had no one to take his hand and comfort him. Whose signs of suffering were instead met with derision and mockery. Tern, who wasn’t gently guided to a bed to rest in - who wasn’t even given rest at all, whose injuries certainly weren’t tended to. Tern, whom he’d made get up and work and move after every whipping - a thought that made him sick to the stomach; he physically could not do that, he didn’t think, he would simply faint - when he didn’t just leave him tied up with nothing but the pain and cold and not a shred of comfort-

The pain he was in was excruciating, but Tern’s must have been so much worse.

And yet… Tern was here. Right there at his bedside, holding his hand as if it were a fragile thing. Usually, he would have been - not quite insulted, not anymore, not by Tern - perhaps a little irritated, but now… he did feel fragile. He would never admit it out loud, and he felt even the thought burn in his stomach, but he accepted the soft touch with shameful gratitude.

He had to say it. He wanted nothing less, wanted this to continue indefinitely. He had never been cared for like this - medically, sure, but not for his soul, like a weakling - and he desperately wanted it, no matter what he had been taught, no matter the shame burning up his insides, but for Tern… he had to wring the words from himself, if he had any honour left. »You shouldn’t do this.« It came out as nothing more than a hoarse whisper.

Tern’s thumb ran across the back of his hand, a welcome distraction, however small. He remained silent for a long moment, and Niveus realized he must have been thinking of the same things. For just a heartbeat - and his heart was rushing still, as if that would get him through the pain faster - he hoped the slave might find some vindication in his predicament, a hope spawned from the gulf of guilt swallowing even the shame at being treated with such tenderness when he realized Tern, too, had been taken back to those times.

He didn’t deserve this.

Finally, Tern said, quietly but with determination, »That’s my decision.« He stroked Niveus’ hand again, as if to take the sharpness off the words. »And you… you need someone. But I’ll leave if you want me to.«

I don’t need anyone. The words seethed up in his chest as naturally as breathing, but right now, they didn’t even make it to the tip of his tongue. He could only be still.

I do.