2412 Dalfa 05, Kindreth

Memories were fickle, little things. One moment, they showed Jona the sight of the palace, crumbling from the force of the Heiress' spells. He remembered the streaks of color, the roar of his blood in his ears, and the amount of black figures he skewered with Nael's stolen Dwarven sword. They kept coming, flooding through the corridor without any regard for the sacred site. Jona was sure he had kept fighting. Despite the weight settling on his shoulders, the ache eating at his whole being, and the protests his own form mounted against him, he kept fighting.

They also showed him a sword slicing through the air, landing on the exact spot it had intended. On his back. He couldn't remember if he felt pain, or if he had retaliated and delivered the same blow. Did...did he kill someone back there?

The next memory he had was of the blurry beige expanse hanging over him. Voices fluttered in and out of his senses—screaming, blaring, hissing. It was silent and noisy at the same time. A groan ripped off his lips, and for a moment, the cacophony died down. Then, it came alive once more.

It came to a point where he couldn't stomach the pounding in his head brought about by the noise, so he dug his palms into the sheets and dragged himself up, as slowly as it might be. His senses returned one by one, making him aware of the soft mattress responding to his every movement. His periphery registered the curtain of green hair shielding most of his view of the other side of the room.

Or, at least, he thought it's a room. There were four walls, enclosing the space. The beige wall turned out to be a towering ceiling. Sheets covered most of his legs, but he felt the soft brush of wide-cut trousers against his skin. He wasn't wearing those when he fought in Acosa. So...

"You're awake," a breathless voice pierced through the static ringing in his ears. "Thank Wikone."

He turned just in time for his face to press against smooth fabric and a familiar warmth. An arm snaked around his waist and shoulders, fingers digging themselves into his hair. "Nael," he blurted, finding his weak voice strange. He didn't use to be this...frail. "What...?"

Nael peeled off him and faced him—fully, this time. "Promise me you'll never do that again," he said.

Jona would have knitted his eyebrows and pretended he didn't know what Nael talked about. But who was he kidding? He pushed Nael to his death. Had Eldan not been there, Nael would have died, splattering to the bottom of the falls, or if it didn't have an end, he'd still be falling. Of course, he's angry about that. No one in their right minds wouldn't.

"I'm sorry I pushed you," he said. "I should've tried to reason with you or something. I—"

"Promise me you'll never leap into battle when you're clearly not well," Nael cut him off, going on a wild tangent. Was that the problem here? Wasn't it supposed to be what Jona did to Nael? "That you wouldn't sacrifice yourself like that."

Jona's tongue turned to Dwarven metal inside his mouth. "You're not angry about how I tried to kill you?"

Nael blew a short gust of wind from his nose. "You—who can't harm a single speck of iphik no matter how much of a pest they are—try to kill me, the love of your life?" he tilted his head to the side. "I've seen better betrayal telmaus, trust me. You only pushed me because Eldan was there with Sahili. You knew she would get me to safety."

"You have too much faith in me," Jona looked away and picked at the stitches of his blanket. Only then did he realize his arm was back to being bandaged, his neck was free from its clutches, and his side seized with pain every time he moved. "I don't even trust myself now."

Not when he was grasping on straws on how he would bring control over Dwanzeig from the Heiress. Not when he couldn't even remember how he ended up in this room. In this...

"Is this the safehouse?" Jona asked, his thoughts flitting out of his lips. Decorum didn't matter now that he didn't even have a palace to call home.

Nael cupped Jona's cheek, forcing him to look at nothing but his dark eyes. "I don't care if you pushed me past the edge," he said, bringing Jona's thoughts back to the guilt gnawing on his stomach. Which reminded him—when was the last time he ate something? "The main issue here is you thinking you're doing a noble thing by throwing your life into the den of beasts."

"It's my duty," Jona knitted his eyebrows. He stayed behind in the palace to give them time to get away. "And I can't promise to not save you when I have the power to do so."

"Which brings us to the truth," Nael answered. "Have you seen what your trail looks like now?"

Jona squirmed out of Nael's grip. "We're not talking about that," he heaved a resigned sigh. Gods be damned. He was tired. So, so tired. "We're not."

"You can't save anyone if you're dead."

Jona's limbs froze. Nael had a point. He always did. "I can't just sit here and pretend Cardovia's not ravaging Dwanzeig—our territory," Jona dug his nails on his scalp, trying in vain to calm himself down. "I need to do something. We have to—"

"Jona, you're not hearing yourself," Nael interjected again. He seemed to have grown fond of doing that when he found out he could without suffering any repercussions. "I'm not asking you to stop fighting or cease being the Grand Royal. But please, take care of yourself too."

That shut him up. "You want me to rest?" Jona asked after a full minute of silence.

Nael blew a breath, his shoulders slumping forward. The dark circles under his eyes didn't skip Jona's notice. He...did he cause that? Was Nael worried, tired, cranky, and upset because of him? "Just for a few days," the soldier said. "Or hours, as a final consolation. You've got a huge gash on your side. You should let the stitches do their work at least."

"How..." Jona swallowed the bitter taste coating his tongue. His throat felt so raw he ended up coughing like a plagued man. "How did I end up here?"

Nael sprung from the mattress and trotted towards the bedside table. They were the only people in this large room, which begged another question—where was everyone? The sound of water sloshing inside a cup masked most of the silence between him and Nael.

Said cup edged by Jona's periphery not a moment too soon. "Here," Nael said, taking his place beside Jona once more. "Sahili dropped me off. She and Eldan had to rush back for you," he started.

Nael leaned to the side, planting a hand on the space between Jona's legs. Jona pretended their stance didn't send a different kind of heat up his cheeks. He prayed to the gods so his face didn't betray him as well.

"I guess Eldan got your intention with the whole pushing fiasco," Nael continued. "You need me out of the way so you can focus on the fight. And when Eldan found you and brought you back..."

His voice trailed off. Jona took over. "It was bad, wasn't it?"

Nael rolled his shoulders. "Let's say it's not a sight I ever want to see again," he said. "If I can help it."

An unwritten and unsaid line laced around the way Nael's statement clipped at the end. And I need you to help me with that.

Fine. Nael has made what he wanted clear. Jona pursed his lips. "I'm sorry," he said again.

"What is it for this time?" Nael cocked his eyebrows.

"For not considering how you feel about me leaping to my death," Jona blew a shaky laugh. He finally understood why his father warned him to not go poking his nose in the wrong business and the buried secrets all those years ago. When people were afraid of losing someone, they tend to be selfish. But was it truly fine for Jona to be selfish now? At this point in the war?

He mustered the courage to look into Nael's eyes once more. "I promise to take care of myself from now on," he said. "I won't give you a reason to worry anymore."

Nael closed his eyes with a sigh. Jona hated seeing his face drawn and crumpled with anything but a smile, so he reached up and placed a hand on the crook of Nael's neck. The soldier froze. This was the first time Jona initiated a touch. Jona's own heart thumped against his chest as he tilted his head to the side and planted a fleeting kiss on Nael's lips.

In their three years of being together, not once did they touch each other like this. So, when he drew back, Nael didn't let him go far before taking Jona's mouth in his once more. For that short while, Jona forgot about the war, his duty, and what he's bound to do after this. If he could lose himself into this bliss, he should have done this a long time ago. He should have done a lot of things a long time ago before the time and circumstance given to him thinned out into nothing but one misfortune after another.

Because then, the door to the room slammed open. Eldan strode inside, his elaborate cloak fluttering behind him. The spy's face was tight, signaling he wasn't the least bit happy about something. With him barging into Jona's recovery room, it's easy to know it concerned him too.

Eldan gave them one long look, noting Jona's hands still on Nael's shoulder or Nael's fingers lost somewhere in Jona's hair. "Shall I come back at a more...appropriate time?" the spy asked.

Jona peeled off Nael and jerked his chin at the soldier. "Can you get me a vial of porgon?" he said. "I can use the extra clearheadedness."

Nael glanced once at Eldan before edging out of the bed and ducking out of the room. It left Jona alone with the issue he has been skirting around with Nael.

"How are things?" Jona said, not looking Eldan in the eye. Despite harboring a face as gentle as a lost pelgar, the words that would bleed out from his mouth would be far from such. "Don't hold anything back."

Eldan bobbed his head. "I should start with the good news," he said, taking it upon himself. "The Grand Monarch and the Council will be leading an anti-war campaign across our forces in Telsbury, Acosa, and Ansevir. Komery and Opreah will be acting on their own. They have their own army, and the Heiress isn't concerned about those cities. In fact, she seems to go out of her way to avoid ending up there."

Jona's teeth dug against his lip. What's in Komery and Opreah that drove the Heiress off? What did she want with the other three cities?

"And I will be taking Ardgate?" Jona said.

"No," the spy said, making Jona's head snap to him. His expression was the same as Nael's—hard and resolute. "The Grand Monarch is aware of your condition, Your Grace. He made it so that you won't be seeing any point of the war. Feeling the damages the battles will incur is enough."

Jona opened his mouth but shut it again. Of course, with Dwanzeig beginning to resist the Heiress' advances, more of the nature around them would have to be sacrificed. It's enough to confine him to the bed for the whole duration, bogged down and numbed with nothing but pain and endless pain. No. This wasn't the way to go.

"We're stretched too thin," Jona said, a map of the territory inching its way to the front of his mind. "How many platoons were able to make it out of Acosa?"

A dark cloud passed across Eldan's face. "One."

Jona's gut twinged. One. It wasn't even enough to mount a proper defense, much less an offense unit. "Then who's going to protect Ardgate?" he prodded. "Gandirk?"

Eldan's eyes hardened into grim emeralds. "That's the last place the Heiress would look for the throne," he said. "Our ancestors made sure of that."

"Too lax. Too complacent," Jona replied. "Did my father approve of this plan? To relegate our survival, our existence to the chance the Heiress won't consider looking towards Ardgate?"

Despite being reprimanded by a fairy centuries younger than him, Eldan didn't lose his flair. "That's the official story we'll be pushing to the Heiress' spies. We've kept a tally of them due to Tepin Sadei's activities, so we know which channels we would flood," he said.

"And the unofficial story?" Jona asked.

Eldan unclasped his hands from behind him and rested them on his sides. "You will be traveling with Namyel Soranal to Gandirk, where you are expected to fortify the defenses should the Heiress end up in Ardgate," he said. "I will send the mobile platoon after you."

Jona scoffed. It seemed as though the Grand Monarch thought this through. A lot. "When can I leave?" he said. Nael's going to reprimand him for even attempting to get an answer to that question.

Eldan's answer was cut short when the door burst open once more. Nael hefted a vial with the pale pink extract of porgon leaves sloshed inside. He read the tone of the room judging from the spy's tense shoulders and Jona's form already half out of the bed. "What did I miss?"

Despite the pain gripping his sides, he smiled at Nael and straightened. He plucked the vial from the soldier's fingers and pulled out the stopper. He tilted his head and dunked the potion in one gulp. Wiping the taste from the corner of his mouth, he bumped his shoulders with Nael. "I'll tell you on the way," was all he said before he walked towards the door.