#ux3

Unbowed, Unbent, Unbroken | E, 16/?

Chapter Sixteen

“Shit, trolls. They’re going to see us.”

Trying to shake himself back to his senses, Nathaniel crouched over beside Andrew. “What do we do now?”

The elf smirked at him, the mischievous glint in his eyes blazing. “Well, we’ll have to fight our way through, obviously.”

“What!” Nathaniel scoffed at him. “I’m sorry, what part of ‘imprisoned, science experiment pet’ makes you think I’ve ever been taught the first thing about fighting?”

Andrew shrugged his shoulders in concession. “Fair point. Alright, wait here and make sure to stay down then.”

Nathaniel stared at his companion in horror. “Andrew, you cannot be serious! They’ll tear you apart!”

“I’ll be fine,” he said, as if the matter bored him Before Nathaniel could protest any further Andrew had already jumped over the rock and tore off in the direction of the troll camp.

“Gods,” Nathaniel mumbled, fisting a hand in his shirt and squeezing his eyes shut. The sounds of steel clanging against steel caused his spine to go rigid with every ring. They hadn’t come across anything more dangerous than a wild boar so far and he had never seen Andrew in a fight, though he knew he was a more than capable soldier. Still, every clash of opposing weapons set his teeth on edge.

A gurgling howl echoed across the field and he was sure Andrew had killed at least one of the trolls. Smoke began to fill the air and fill his lungs. Nathaniel’s eyes snapped open and he risked a look around the boulder. There was a small encampment next to what looked to be a cave, likely where the trolls were residing. The beasts’ fire had begun to spread to the nearby grasses, engulfing two bloody corpses.

Andrew was locked in battle with the last and largest of the trolls. His teeth were bared and he was growling and grunting like some type of feral animal, but watching him as he dodged and struck was like watching a dance. He was exceptional with his blade, moving as if it was a part of his body that he had spent his entire life perfecting. Nathaniel realized that he didn’t seem to even bother using magic.

As the troll struck forward, Andrew dipped low and rolled onto his back. The creature stumbled forward and as its chest fell towards the ground, Andrew made his final move. He thrusted his blade forward into its heart, dousing himself in its blood. The troll didn’t make a sound, seemingly stunned by its own end as it hit the ground with a shuddering thud.

Threat now gone, Nathaniel stood up, hands on his hips. While Andrew was skilled, it had been foolish of him to dive into danger as he had.

And he was going to let him know just that.

Andrew rose from the ground, wiping his blade on the dead troll’s vest, a vicious satisfaction on his face. He took a step forward towards Nathaniel, but he stumbled and his face contorted.

“Drew,” Nathaniel called out, confused.

The elf’s body jerked forward hard, his knees giving out beneath him. As he crumpled down, Nathaniel saw a final troll standing some distance behind him, bow in hand. Andrew swayed dangerously on his knees and Nathaniel bolted forward, watching the creature take off through the woods.

“Andrew!” he cried, running to catch him before he collapsed forward. Andrew trembled in Nathaniel’s hands when he grasped his shoulders. Peering over Andrew’s shoulders to his back, Nathaniel could see the two arrows embedded in his flesh. One was stuck in his shoulder, poking straight through the front, but the other was buried deep in his lower back.

Unbowed, Unbent, Unbroken | E, 15/?

Chapter Fifteen

Later, lying beneath the stars, Nathaniel pointed out various shapes and recited some of his favorite childhood stories about the dragons that supposedly put them there. Andrew listened quietly, his expression difficult to read in the dim light. Occasionally, he added a tale of his own here and there, older stories with different names for the same stars.

As the chill of the lake winds blew over them, Andrew got up to retrieve another blanket from one of his newly acquired packs. He held it out without comment. Nathaniel took it and spread it over his shoulders, grateful for the warmth and for the lack of fuss.

They laid back in the quiet then, watching the sky above them.

Nathaniel wondered how long this strange companionship would last after they inevitably reached the Foxhole Court and he surrendered himself to the Witch King. Suddenly the journey seemed too short, their time together too limited.

“Drew,” he whispered, unsure if Andrew was still awake.

“Hm,” the elf murmured.

“Do you ever envision the end of the war?”

“No.”

Nathaniel turned his head slightly, looking at the faint outline of him in the dark. “No?”

“I’ve been fighting long enough that I haven’t spent much time thinking past the end of it.”

Nathaniel supposed that was fair.

He looked back up at the stars. He had imagined the Moriyamas dead before. He had imagined Riko’s blood on the floor, the castle burning, the crown split open and discarded somewhere no one would ever find it again. He had imagined vengeance because vengeance was easy.

An ending was different, though. An ending meant something had to come after.

He thought of Allison beneath the lake, her sharp smile fixed on him as she spoke of the rebellion as something larger than the Palmyrans. For years, Nathaniel had thought of the Moriyamas as immovable. Cruel, rotting, unbearable, but fixed in the world all the same. Now, for the first time, he wondered if they could fall.

He had no idea what the world would look like without them.

“I don’t think I have either,” Nathaniel admitted. “Not really.”

Andrew said nothing, but Nathaniel could feel that he was listening. Feeling a bit brave, Nathaniel tentatively shifted closer, but stopped before his shoulder could brush Andrew’s.

“Yes or no?” he asked, barely louder than the water.

Andrew went very still, his jaw shifting tightly like he was biting the words back. For a moment, Nathaniel thought he would say no just to make the wanting easier to bear.

“Yes,” he gritted out at last.

Nathaniel’s breath caught despite himself. Carefully, giving Andrew every chance to move away, he lowered his head to rest against Andrew’s shoulder. Andrew went still and Nathaniel froze as well.

“Still yes?”

Andrew’s hand caught the edge of the blanket before Nathaniel could move far.

“Yes. Stay.”

Unbowed, Unbent, Unbroken | E, 14/?

Chapter Fourteen

“I want you to keep focusing on it, but focus it into the air instead of your body. Imagine it forming in front of you, like I showed you mine at the inn. Breathe and focus on only that. Picture it as a river, flowing through your arms and out of your fingertips.”

Nathaniel nodded. Closing his eyes, he tried to focus on where he felt the magic. It was everywhere. He pictured it running up through his body and back down his arms, pooling into the tips of his fingers, just as Andrew had instructed. As he thought it, he felt the warmth flow just under the surface of his skin as he pictured it move. Focusing harder, he imagined it in the air in front of him like Andrew’s magic had swirled around the ceiling at the inn. He imagined it was his own- that from his fingers streams of blue would pour out and begin to dance among the grasses.

“Good,” Andrew said, quieter now. “Hold it there.”

Opening his eyes, Nathaniel saw the faint glow of blue between them in the air. His eyes grew wide and he lifted his hand higher, the blue tendrils floating with it.

He let out the breath he had been holding and the magic evaporated immediately.

“Damn it!”

“You stopped concentrating.”

Nathaniel gave him a look. “Yes, Andrew, I noticed.”

Andrew’s mouth curved faintly. “Then don’t be so easily distracted next time.”

Nathaniel hated that it steadied him. Hated even more that some small, reckless part of him wanted to earn another almost-smile from him.

“How do you feel?” Andrew asked.

Nathaniel couldn’t formulate thoughts at that moment. “A little light headed, to be honest.”

“Would his highness like to rest before we continue?”

Nathaniel shook his head, ignoring the jab, and held out his hands once more. “No. No, that was incredible!”

Andrew took hold of his hands once more and Nathaniel felt the surging pull from within. The noise in his head was growing louder this time, something darker than the time before. It wanted him to close his fingers, to drag Andrew closer, to press skin to skin until there was no space left between them. Nathaniel’s hands trembled with the effort of resisting it.

“Neil,” Andrew called out to him again, but Nathaniel couldn’t stop. The magic was rising too quickly, filling his head until there was no room left for thought. “Nathaniel. Control.”

He tried, but the magic was screaming in his veins. It surged up through his arms, hot and demanding, and Nathaniel felt his fingers begin to curl against Andrew’s palms.

“Neil. Stop.”

The word cut through the haze and Nathaniel tore his hands away in panic.

Unbowed, Unbent, Unbroken | E, 13/?

Chapter Thirteen

“Does it ever get tiresome?” Nathaniel asked sarcastically as another table fell into whispers after shooting glances their way.

“What?” The word was muffled as Andrew stuffed a large chunk of bread into his mouth.

Nathaniel rolled his eyes. “Being oh-so desired by all those you encounter?”

“Not all. Most want me dead.”

“How modest of you.”

“It keeps me likable.”

Nathaniel gave him a flat look. “That is not the word I would use.”

“No?” Andrew slid one of the mugs closer to Nathaniel. “What word would you use?”

“Infuriating,” Nathaniel answered at once, grabbing the mug quickly, wanting to busy himself now that he had said it.

Andrew’s mouth twitched faintly, but he did not answer. For a moment, Nathaniel thought the conversation might end there. Then Andrew tilted his head slightly, eyes settling on him in that imposing way Nathaniel had come to find deeply irritating.

“Does it ever get tiresome for you?”

Nathaniel blinked at him. “What do you mean?”

“Surely the beautiful, blue-eyed lord would be flush with proposals of marriage and such.”

Nathaniel felt a telltale warmth rise to his cheeks at Andrew calling him beautiful and hated himself for it immediately, knowing he was being mocked. “Perhaps, but I never had the time to care. Difficult to maintain a courtship when the heir to the throne is torturing you every other day.”

Silence stretched between them then and Nathaniel finally forced himself to turn his head back in Andrew’s direction. He was watching him, eyes locked onto the lines of Nathaniel’s face.

“And Moreau?” Andrew asked.

Unbowed, Unbent, Unbroken | E, 12/?

Chapter Twelve

They had stopped for some lunch at the edge of a river, settled a little away from the road, hidden through a stretch of trees and bramble. Nathaniel lowered himself into the grass near the riverbank with as much dignity as he could manage, which was not much. Andrew dealt with the horses before dropping a small wrapped bundle beside him.

Andrew only sat a few feet away and unwrapped his own food and began eating. The river moved steadily in front of them, clear water catching over pale stones. Nathaniel watched it as he opened his own bundle and began slowly eating the bread and dried meat. Looking past the river, the Great Lake still seemed far off in the distance and he couldn’t help but think that they may be taking the slower route to Millporte, because he didn’t think it was this far of a ride from Evermore. 

A part of him was thrilled by it- to bask in the freedom and to finally breathe air that wasn’t stifling and every moment filled with dread. He could close his eyes and feel the sun on his skin and just for a moment, simply exist.

It didn’t take long, though, for his mind to wander back to Evermore. Of course it did. Everything went back to Evermore eventually.

Everything went back to Jean.

“So,” Nathaniel said, because he couldn’t sit with it anymore. “The Foxhole Court.”

Andrew glanced at him.

“You said it was beautiful.”

Andrew chewed slowly, his gaze returning to the water before he answered. “It’s built into the mountain. Most of the outer halls are crystal. There are places where the water runs down through the stone and freezes before it reaches the ground.”

“And people live there?” Nathaniel asked.

Andrew’s eyes cut toward him, unimpressed. “No, we all sleep outside and admire the walls.”

Nathaniel huffed and looked back toward the river. He tried to picture it and found he could not. Castle Evermore was all dark stone and vast rooms that felt designed to remind a person where they belonged. A palace carved into a mountain sounded like something from one of the old books he and Jean used to steal from the library before Riko had grown suspicious of what they were reading.

“Do you think they will kill me?” he asked before he could stop himself.

Andrew did not answer immediately.

That was answer enough.

Nathaniel’s mouth twisted. “Right.”

“I don’t know what they will do with you.”

“But you can guess.”

Unbowed, Unbent, Unbroken | E, 11/?

Chapter Eleven

“Did it work?”

Nathaniel cocked his head to one side, feigning ignorance. “Did what work?”

“Moriyama’s attempts? You were his test subject in attempting to amalgamate humans and Druid magic- did it work? Do you truly possess magic?”

Nathaniel couldn’t look at him. Had it worked? He wasn’t completely sure. He could not deny that there had been clear instances in which he had expelled some sort of magical force, but he was still not convinced that it was permanent. Those moments had been brief and required some sort of injection from the prince that erupted in immense amounts of energy and then appeared to be spent up, leaving nothing left inside of him.

But, Nathaniel is human and he has used magic himself at least twice now.

“Honestly? I’m not entirely sure,” he whispered. “All I know is that I needed to get away before he could succeed any further.”

Andrew nodded, seemingly aware of Nathaniel’s confusion and exhaustion. He stood up, taking the empty bark plate and tossed it into the fire, causing it to momentarily spark and spit embers onto the ground.

“We should leave at first light. There are still a few hours you can rest. I’ll keep watch to make sure we haven’t been followed.”

“You should sleep too. Or do witches not require sleep?” Nathaniel added with a halfhearted tease.

The elf looked down at him, the half cocked brow making his stomach flutter embarrassingly.

“I’ll be fine, Prince. I’ve had enough sleep to last several lifetimes.”

He paused, then reached into his pocket and pulled out a leather necklace. Crossing back toward Nathaniel, he crouched near him, though not as close as he might have earlier, and held it out between two fingers. At the end hung a smoky black crystal that caught the firelight strangely, glinting from somewhere deep inside.

“Wear this,” Andrew said. “It should keep the worst of it from you so you don’t have nightmares.”

Nathaniel blinked from the necklace to his face. “I don’t- How do you-”

Andrew’s mouth flattened faintly, not quite impatience, not quite dismissal. “You were shouting in your sleep before. I can guess the rest.”

Nathaniel looked at the crystal again, then reached out and took it from him with care not to brush more of Andrew’s hand than necessary. The leather was warm from being in his pocket.

“Thank you,” he said quietly.

Unbowed, Unbent, Unbroken | E, 8/?

Chapter Eight

“Go to Palmyra,” Jean murmured, softer now, as though gentleness would make it any easier to hear. “Find the Druids. Get as far away from him as possible and do not let him touch you again.”

Nathaniel stared at him. His chest felt too tight, every breath felt thin and wrong in his lungs. 

“We will both go. We’re partners.”

Jean looked at him helplessly, like he really thought Nathaniel might let him believe this was their only path.

That frightened him more than anything else.

“We will both go,” Nathaniel repeated, stepping closer before Jean could answer. “Together. That was always the plan.”

“Nathaniel.” Jean’s voice was so gentle it made something in him want to break. “Plans do not always work out.”

“Then we make a better one.”

He could hear how desperate his own voice had become with the panic underneath it, raw and ugly and growing worse with every denial Jean gave him. Nathaniel closed what little space remained between them until Jean’s thighs hit the bed causing him to sit and there was nowhere left for him to retreat.

“Do not do this,” Nathaniel said, and now the words came too quickly, all the fear in them stripped bare despite his best effort. He shuffled into Jean’s lap, taking his face in his hands. “Do not look at me like you’ve already decided this for us. You do not get to decide that I leave and you stay. Please, you cannot ask that of me.”

Jean’s lashes were wet, whether from the bath or something else, Nathaniel could not bear to think too hard about it so he pressed their foreheads together.

“If you run-” 

“If I run, you suffer for it. If I run, he takes it out on you. If I run, he destroys whatever is left, and you know it.” His voice broke then, that awful ball of pain lodging in his throat. “And if I go without you, then I am alone. How could I go on without you?”

To imagine a life without Jean was not something Nathaniel was willing to bear, not even to entertain the idea of it.

He swallowed hard, trying to speak through it. “I will not do that. I won’t leave you here for him. I won’t leave you here to die, and I won’t go out into the world alone pretending that survival is enough. It isn’t. Not to me.”

Jean’s expression crumpled with something that looked dangerously close to despair and Nathaniel wrapped himself around him before he could stop himself. His arms snaked around Jean’s neck, pulling him tight so their heartbeats were pressed side by side.

“We get out together,” he murmured. “That is the only plan I will accept. I have let too much happen in this place. I am not letting this be one of them.”

Jean pulled back to look at him for a long moment. Nathaniel could see that he wanted to argue, that he was still turning the impossible over in his head, still measuring Nathaniel’s life against his own and finding himself easier to sacrifice. But Jean knew him too well. He knew there was no moving Nathaniel once he had dug his heels in, no prying him loose from the promise they had built their entire lives around.

And because he was Jean and because he loved Nathaniel enough to stop pushing when it would do no good, he gave the smallest nod.

It was not real belief, Nathaniel knew that, but he took it anyway and clung to it.

He lifted a hand and pushed Jean’s damp hair back from his forehead and Jean leaned into the touch, tilting his head up at Nathaniel’s coaxing. When he blinked open his silver eyes, Nathaniel leaned in to press a kiss at the corner of his mouth.

Unbowed, Unbent, Unbroken | E, 6/?

Chapter Six **TW blood + wounds**

He lurched up before the pain could stop him and the room tipped hard enough to make his stomach turn, but Jean was there immediately, one arm around his back, the other braced across his chest to keep him from pitching forward.

“Easy,” Jean shushed.

“What happened to you?” His voice came out rough and broken.

Jean’s mouth tightened. “That is your first concern?”

Nathaniel tried to pull away enough to look at him properly. Jean let him, though only barely, one hand still spread wide between his shoulder blades like he did not trust Nathaniel to remain upright on his own. It was a fair assessment.

“You’re hurt.”

Jean gave an impatient little shake of his head. “Nathaniel, look at the room.”

He did and memories started to come back in quick, ugly pieces. The cell, Andrew’s hands on his wrists, running back through the castle with something clawing at the inside of his skull- blue light bursting out of him so violently it had thrown the room apart.

“Oh.”

Jean exhaled through his nose, some of the tension going out of him only to return somewhere deeper. “Yes. Oh.”

Nathaniel stared at the broken window, at the shreds of fabric stirring in the breeze. “I did this.”

Jean did not answer right away. His hand moved once over Nathaniel’s back, likely an attempt to soothe the dread bubbling in Nathaniel’s chest, but it was already too late for that.

“You were not in your right mind.”

“I still did it.” Nathaniel looked back at the blood on Jean’s cheek and felt something cold settle under his ribs. “I hurt you.”

“Stop.”