I will change the world

Ryner couldn’t help but yawn with Sion every time, his grip on him tightening slightly as his feet stretch and he nuzzles down. His eyes refused to open at this point, even to check on Sion and whether or not he stopped weeping, whether or not his tears needed wiping. Sleep claimed them both instead, the hours passing by, the evening turning to a late night, that was soon to turn into a morning… yet Ryner awoke first. Groggy and exhausted, he stretched his arms and feet, then pulled Sion, crushing him in his hold as he pressed him against his body again. This could be considered an assassination attempt.

He held him tightly, his chin resting down against the top of Sion’s head. Having both him and his pillows here was enough to cloud his mind again, the tension in his muscles loosening at long last. The arm underneath Sion’s head twitched its fingers as he allowed himself to relax, his eyes fight but fail to stay open. The softness of the bed, mixed with Sion’s voice and scent, the warm of his body against his beating heart. It felt familiar, in both good and bad, but right now, he’d take the good in it. He… apparently slept for two whole days, but he could really use the rest of the day. Especially while Sion seemed a bit like his old self.

“I don’t think I can fall asleep in my own bed anymore.”

Ryner sighed. He wanted to reply with some equally as playful, but he knew that beneath the surface, Sion had real worries concerning the implications. Perhaps he’d have to save the playful pretense for when they’d wake up, because… all he could do right now is yank Sion down, wrapping him in his arm. The gesture pushed the king’s face between scarred shoulder and collar.

“I don’t need ploys to get into your bed. You never use it, so I can sneak in whenever I want.”

Ryner kept glancing up when Sion would speak, but his hands busy getting the fabrics off him so they could properly lay down. Since it seemed like this one didn’t have any desire in him, he didn’t feel the need to be gracious or attractive about it. His fingers went around the sigil, around the ropes, undoing them and allowing the layers be removed. He left Sion in his last layer, taking care of their shoes next.

“I can’t say. You don’t seem like the Sion who hurt me, so it’s not for me to make that judgement. Truth be told… at the end of the day I don’t even care. I hope to not live long enough to ever find out.” He replied, flopping on his side as he looked up at Sion. “Over here…” He raised his arm for him.

The king sucked in a breath as he tried for the millionth time to get a hold of himself. Ryner had seemed to calm himself in one go, pushing aside whatever anger he had before him. He needed to do the same, let go and show his friend there was nothing to worry over. No abuse, no pain. He swallowed and moved, trying to both comply with Ryner and also prop himself up enough to hold a normal conversation. 

Ryner passed the halls quickly, going down a path he could walk with his eyes closed. He had a tight hold on Sion in case the other would regain some energy and try squirming again - but when things came to a physical altercation, Ryner had the upper hand. Without tricks up his sleeve, a harsh tug on the collar, or a bold demand, Sion was rather powerless when it came to handling him. Sometimes he hoped that this would be a wake up call for him - the realization he’s so weak and easy to overpower if he keeps wasting his body away like that… but it didn’t seem to be the case so far.

Sion’s thrown on the bed, as daintily as Ryner could manage throwing a grown man off his shoulder. He then turned around and locked the door, twirling the key on his finger as slowly he stepped back to the disoriented-looking king. Since he looked so out of it, Ryner decided to take matters into his own hand and help him with all those layers. Starting with taking just the cloak off.

“Things should be better after some rest. Just try it for once.”

Sion let Ryner move his clothes how he liked putting up no fight and very little resistance. The words Ryner had been screaming at him looped in his head playing on a endless cycle. HE GROWS WEAK, FORGETFUL, VULNERABLE. It said from the shadows, echoing out his deepest fears. YOU ENABLE HIS SUFFERING, YOU CAUSE HIS SUFFERING. CAPTOR AND KING. Sion’s chest rose as his breath fluttered in, lips still slack as his eyes watched Ryner through a lazy kind of fog. 

Ryner could just watch the sight unfold as his anger and irritability mixed in with some worry. It was rare for him to see Sion remorseful of any action these days, let alone tears. Crocodile tears, it could be… but they worked on him just the same. He helped support Sion’s weight when he started noticing the frail man weakening.

“Don’t say weird things…” He quietly huffed, looking at the desk slightly messed up from their heated… whatever this was. Misunderstanding? Counter-delusion? Just what was happening? “When I tell you you’re working too much, I’m not kidding. Look what it’s doing to your head.” Ryner sighed and wrapped an arm around Sion’s upper back, around his shoulders. He then bent down at the knees and wrapped his other arm underneath Sion’s bottom, swinging him up with one easy motion to throw him over his back. “I’ve had enough, we’re going to bed.”

As his friend bore his weight he let himself slip more and more until- ??? Sion let out a string of protests as his friend hoisted him up and over his shoulder.  “Ryner what are you-” He stammered out, half trying to squirm to get a view half trying hard to tense up as not to fall off his perch. “Put me down- Ryner- ” 

His hands balled to fists. It was hard listening to Sion when he kept slipping at the same exact tile. It was as if he simply couldn’t help and be tolerable for more than a couple minutes at a time before he’d say something that hurt him. It… it felt like how they used to be in the past, before things took a turn from worse to the absolute worst.

“His. Name. Is Tiir. And I know how that night went - I was fighting your Gastark dog to defend him!” Ryner almost barked in Sion’s face. It was something that he only learned later, when he was forced back to Roland the second time. Sion’s been working with them the whole time, his little spies. They plucked the eyes of innocent, traumatized children while losing themselves in the madness of evil. Laughing, mocking, shouting to the skies their praise and content. “I’m not even angry of the order, you’ve done what you had to in order to defend Roland, right? I’m mad that you can’t even be honest about it. That you can’t even accept that I’m different than the rest of us - not because I’m better than them, but because I’m much, much worse.” He grabbed Sion back, in the same spots the silver-haired king was gripping him at. Ryner could break him if he really wanted, pop a shoulder out the socket. But that… that, wouldn’t be him.

“No one besides you forced me to anything.”

It was evident just how much distress he was in, tears were raising in his eyes the king unable to stop himself from crying upon hearing those words spoken aloud. A fear he had held for so long in his heart, trapped down under the sea of selfless promises. He was going to build a kingdom where people like ryner could relax, kick back in the afternoon sun and dream of a world that war had never seen. He did not wish to force him, to trap him to cage him- to lock him up, to imprison him to hold him to dine upon him to consume him to-

“Sion, that was months ago. And his name is Tiir. He wasn’t the one to kidnap me.” His bitterness was harder to conceal, his voice shaking with what one could assume is fury and utter loss. All he wanted to do is put the blame on Sion and leave already so he could sleep, but he felt too righteous. Too angry. Like it was his one and only opportunity to lash out before he’d have to play the role of the airheaded fool once more.

“I left for him again and after weeks you forced me back in here, I vowed myself to you. I vowed… and you can’t even -” No, what was the point? Ryner gently brushed Sion’s hand off his scar, touching it himself instead. It felt… unsafe, to let him that close to it. But he knew it couldn’t have been done by his hands. Perhaps not literally, at least.

“But I suppose a good Stigma would just shut it’s mouth and go sleep off the crazy.”

“Ryner dont speak like that.” He was moving, to be at his side once more. Both hands now trying to hold onto either side of the magician. “Im sorry for what I said about-” His voice caught the instinctive ‘it’ catching at the back of his throat. “About the Lino Doue, you arent like that- I should never have put that order into effect- please dont speak so lowly of yourself.” 

He felt the tension in his muscles, broken nails digging into paling skin. He felt an idle turning in his stomach, a buzz in head. Like a headache was beginning to form, if he wouldn’t calm himself down and go get some more rest. Perhaps it was from too much rest, but he didn’t care. He couldn’t listen to Sion deny everything he put him through with such confidence, like he was the wrong one. Like he was crazy.

Like he was going to deeply regret this when they were alone in bed later tonight. He felt what little of his mind was left grounded in the scene dissolve to a thick fog in his head, his thoughts blurring into a soup of words. He wanted to continue yelling, to demand he admits the pain he’d caused, but… it didn’t matter, did it.

“I suppose you don’t remember I vowed my life, my mind, and my body to you either?” A rhetorical question at this point. Ryner figured that this had to be some sort of nightmare. One of the vivid ones. “All the times we kissed, or all the times you nearly picked my life like a ripened fruit? The time I clung to you in bed begging for just five more minutes? You’re just going to look in my eyes and…” His voice broke, silenced. Ryner bit into his lip and slammed a hand down on the desk. “You’re just going to tell me the last few months didn’t happen??” He shouted again.

He was as still as could be, his whole face twisted into disappear. What was happening, why was it happening? What had happened to Ryner. The kings hand shot out across the desk palm cupping the other’s right shoulder. Giving a reassuring squeeze. “Ryner....” His voice was soft, trying to hold its composure. “Who did this to you. Can you remember anything before two days ago.” He swallowed throat painfully dry all of a sudden. 

“Sion, you know I don’t drink.” He parted his lips to keep on talking, but Sion then continued to talk, and it made him feel… upset. The denial, the rejection of the things he was a direct cause to. Ryner folded his arms and approached the desk, stopping right in front of it as he glared down at Sion.

“Mockery?” He hissed in a low whisper. His voice shook, as his hands would if they weren’t so tightly crossed over his chest. “Unlike you I remember everything you’ve done. From putting that piece of junk around my neck, to the assault on every inch of my body.” His voice rose. “You won’t be sitting here after I apparently slept for a day too long and suddenly get to decide you never put your hands on me, just because you suddenly feel a little guilty!” He finally snapped.

shock and confusion were painted plain as day across his face, tight brows pushing up towards a fretted crown as the king re-played what he had just heard. Abruptly he rose from the chair, a few papers flying off the edge of the table his right hand knocking the pen free- sending it to spiral off the edge. “Ryner get ahold of yourself, what are you saying?!” His eyes searched the other looking his person all over as if a answer would be written out in neat little letters. 

It was all too weird. Sion wasn’t seeming like himself, and somehow he was thinking that Ryner was the odd one. He was getting increasingly worried about the earlier comments and the way Sion looked - he looked bad. For a… normal person. On Sion terms, he actually looked better than he remembered him to be, his state not seeming this hopeless just yet.

Ryner still was cautious to some degree when approaching him, the scar on his shoulder aching as if trying to remind him of something he couldn’t remember. It made him pause and hesitate a bit, remembering the times in which he tried to be friendly and understanding to be met with a callous hand around the throat. If he couldn’t even remember something such long-term… was he really safe to approach?

“I…” He trailed off. It was all so complicated in his head, he hated it. He hated how empty it left him feeling every time. “Sion, I promise that I never left. Even tonight, if you’ll be able to put aside your work, I’ll be in your bed like always. You can see for yourself. Or do you need to take me again to… be really sure.” He tried to chuckle but only bitterness came out.

The brightness in the room stayed seeming to have evened out with time. “Ryner.” His voice followed him, long silver hairs sweeping over his shoulder as Sion turned away. His head slipping free of the kind touch before returning to sit down at his desk. “Claugh suspected you of drinking, could you still be awash by it?” His voice lilts with a joke but leaves room for the seriousness he felt. “Ill hear non of this sleeping in my bed, no matter how worried you made me.” 

Ryner blinked slowly, putting two hands at his waist as his head cocked to the side. He wasn’t quite trying to glare daggers Sion’s way, but, he was indeed giving him a look of sorts. One that proved to carry some mix of complex emotions with it, a difficult one to describe but - perhaps concern could be one of them.

“If anything, you might be delirious from working too hard. Sion… it stopped being a surprise to you some months ago already - I barely ever use my bed anymore.” He raised a hand to ruffle his drying hair. “You’re acting even weirder than usual…” Ryner muttered, trying to take a step towards Sion as he spoke.

His eyes were slipping focus in his mind images bled, the flashing of clothing as it snapped back and forth in the wind. The reflective light from metal armor, those dark eyes looking at him with such- Such a sad hopelessness. To sion he could see only the eyes of a man who had given up, given up on him on roland, on life. All from him, all because of his doing. 

The weak smile wavered, quivering for a moment before it was broken, like all of Ryner’s hopes the day the soldiers of Roland barged through the woods into their peaceful home. He pressed his lips for a moment and then sighed, lowering his eyes to the ground. It really didn’t feel like he was gone at all - and at the same time nothing’s been like he was used to.

“I didn’t.” He was being honest, gesturing up with his arm. “I went to sleep in your bed as usual and I woke up in the streets to Claugh claiming it’s been two days.” Ryner tried to catch the other’s eyes, to look deep into them and reassure he wasn’t lying. Or at least… he was pretty sure he wasn’t lying - to him it was all a pile of dreams. He hasn’t been sleep walking. He didn’t plan to run away. His day was… so normal until then.

Sion’s eyes tightened, glaring at the floor unable to understand what his friend spoke of. His bed? Ryner did not sleep there often if ever, in fact the amount of times he had caught him sneaking a nap in the royal bed chambers was unknown. 

When he opens his mouth to speak the king’s voice is rough and tight, the cut short laugh at the back of his throat burried quickly. “You expect me to believe you snuck into MY bed of all places and just- wandered away in what? Your sleep? Really now Ryner I did not become king of this kingdom by being so easy to pull a wool over.” He takes a step back, making space between their bodies. Why was his left hand itching so badly to seize his neck and pull that head down. It frightened and thrilled him- a wash of emotions hed never felt taking control. 

Some things didn’t change. Pacing he perhaps was not - but having a pen in hand he did, only lifting his eyes once his pet stepped in. Typical. Ryner sighed, catching Sion’s eyes with his own as they glanced up at him to spit some of his old teasing. When he felt the tips of those fingers brush faintly across his neck to the way of his collar however, he lowered both his arms, shoulders drooping similarly to the energy of his voice when he spoke next.

“Can you quit acting like you don’t know me? We’re alone here.” He didn’t know where that surge of coldness came from, but for some reason it really upset him to hear the one who forced it on him try and tease him about it. I was a virgin before you came along. Ryner added in his head, having at least some tact not to say that out loud. Perhaps that… two-day nap or something made him more irritable. He raised a hand to shove Sion’s hand off his shoulder, but then he paused, resting his own on top of it instead.

“Yeah, work.” He tried to smile. “What’s it this time? Paperwork or paperwork?”

The king blinked stunned for a moment- before blinking and averting his gaze. His whole mood shifted, shoulders tensing up. Did the shadows in the office grow a bit darker? Almost like the lights were going out? There was a rustling outside the large window-like wall adjacent to his desk, in the late afternoon sun trees moved. The light shone outside bright and welcoming, a stark contrast to the now gloomy office. 

“I don’t drink.” Ryner muttered under his breath as he took Claugh’s hand, pulling himself up with what seemed to be his one clean hand. He made a small grunt, patting his clothes down - yeah he was going to need a shower after this. There were a few issues however… one with the time mentioned, and the other about a promise. Ryner made some promises in the recent past, but none of them were to Claugh, and… Was he really gone for two days? That’s not sleep walking, but… whatever, not much he could do anyway.

He took a shower as advised, damp black hair looking even longer than it usually is when dry, his scars from a near-death experience on display. A large one on his shoulder, bleeding slightly to his bicep, bumpy and raised, with dips in the skin, and a thick scar of a gash on the opposite bicep. Walking into the Pacing King’s office, Ryner was rolling his problematic shoulder again.

“Sorry for the long waaaait.”

He’s caught off guard, the sound of lazy footsteps alerting the king to a unsanctioned audience with the king. He had been told of course, that Ryner had been located. He was safe. He was brought home for a bath and a change and- and he would arrive. Alone. His breathing picked up, Sion moving with a fluttering of robes, adjusting his elbows to lean in a just so casual, enough way. He picks up the feather quil in his dominant hand scribbling out chicken scratch against the grain.

Look busy, look busy.

“Ah Ryner.” Gold eyes glance upwards after pausing for a moment. “Returned from your adventures hunting down women? And you returned quite fashionable too.” He rose from the chair, making effort to take his time. Boots crossing one before the other as he drew in on his friend. At the same peaceful speed Sion rose his hand slowly finger tips grazing the collar. “What poor naïve girl did you convince to lock you up hm?” His fingers trail lighting at the crease between rough coarse knit fabrics and creamy skin ripe for the seizing-

A groan. Ryner yawned again as he was forced to acknowledge the person in his room, eyes ope -

Quickly, Ryner scrambled to sit up, eyes shot wide until he remembered he’s too sleepy for such energy, one last yawn escaping him. His bad shoulder was rolled, to ensure the scar could stretch and help him regain some flexibility from this stiff sleep.

“Claugh - what’s the matter?” He looked at the prickly thing in this hand, and shoved the trash bag away, staring at his own arms in bewilderment and a hint of disgust, eyes arching up. If he was sleepwalking now on top of all the rest of his troubles, it’d be bad. “How’d I get here?”

The general let out a sigh as he extended his hand. “Look I dont care what you do in your free time, or how much of it you drink- But you made a promise, thanks to you we lost two good days and a heap of trouble with Sion. He’s taken up pacing Ryner- Pacing.”

 He sighs again shoulder droping as his voice went weak with annoyance. “At least we found you alive if not-” as if he had forgotten about the stench his nose wrinkled for the second time that night, trying to flush out the decomposing food and sanitary products of roland jammed into the black bag.