Archive of Our Own ^beta

The sound of a red blade cutting into his flesh was all Garroth could hear. He wasn't sure why, he knew he wasn't there anymore. He hadn't been there in a long time. Weeks, to be exact. 

Laurance was hovering. Garroth knew this, because whenever he went quiet, or still, or just seemed to shut down, Laurence was always there. No one but Laurance knew what the Shadow Knights were capable of, and that understanding ran deep whenever his blue eyes locked onto Garroth’s. 

What did they do? Lauranace had asked when Garroth had first returned to Phoenix Drop, after he'd been patched up and given so many potions and herbs and whatever else. None of it was enough to stop the wounds from scarring. Garroth, tell me what they did to you. 

His eyes had flashed red, and Garroth was reminded of red swords and crimson armour and suddenly he was back in that cell, being hacked at, being mocked, and Laurance realised this, Laurance understood this. Laurance did not ask again. 

“Gar?” Garroth blinked, and he was back in the barracks, sitting on Laurance's bed, covered in bandages. He couldn't move, his limbs weighing down on him like some immovable force had been placed on them, keeping him on the bed. Laurance’s sheets were not warm, they were cold, just like he was. Garroth looked over to where Laurance stood, an expression of concern etched onto his face. “You with me?”

Garroth nodded, glancing at his surroundings for a second time, just for his eyes to land back on Laurance. The other had stepped closer to the bed, hands coming to cup Garroth’s cheeks. 

“Hey, dear heart,” he mumbled, voice quiet, the words a silent secret in the silence of the barracks. No one else knew they were together. They did not bother telling anyone. “Look at me?” Garroth was already looking at him. “You're with me, okay? Not in that cell or with the Shadow Knights. You're with me, Laurance.”

“I know,” Garroth replied, raspy and quiet, and Laurance smiled, a genuine one. Not one of his masks, this was a smile only Garroth was allowed to see. He leaned into Laurance’s cold palms, letting his eyes flutter closed at the comfort Laurance’s presence brought him. 

“You space out a lot,” Laurance commented, leaning down to press a soft kiss to Garroth’s temple. “It scares me, sometimes. Seeing you so unresponsive.”

Garroth opened his eyes again, and in Laurance’s blue eyes, he wondered if the red that is somewhere within, lurking, mixing with the soft hues of the sky, would ever resurface again. He does not want it to. Red eyes are a distant memory, red eyes are a permanent memory. They are everywhere and nowhere. Red eyes watch him. They plan to hurt him. 

“Sorry,” Garroth replied before he could space out again, because he was sure his thoughts were about to spiral into a direction he did not want. “I'm… I just can't stop thinking…”

Laurance frowned, though not in pity, or sympathy, but in understanding. He understood, he listened, he helped. He tried. Garroth loved him. 

“That's okay,” Laurance said softly, one hand removing itself from Garroth’s face to shift in his blonde curls, running cold fingers through the locks in a gentle caress. It was comforting. Garroth leaned forward, head resting on Laurance’s chest, and breathes. It is easier to do that with Laurance around. Laurance is his cornerstone, the thing that keeps him tethered to this earthly plain. Without him, Garroth would have drifted among the unpredictable ocean waves and drowned. 

They stay like that for a long while, Garroth is not sure how long, but he doesn't have the energy to move. He likes it like this, and he knows Laurance probably has patrol or duties that he has to fulfill, but Garroth is selfish and soaks up Laurance’s kindness like he is starved of it. 

There is a knock at the door; someone has come to check on them. Garroth feels the way Laurance’s body shifts ever so slightly, shielding Garroth, shielding the blatant vulnerability Garroth is displaying. It was a sweet gesture. 

His Lord enters the room, and Garroth only knows because he recognises the way her boots thump against the hardwood floor. It is a consistent, firm, motion of movements. His Lord has come to check on him, as she has done countless times before. 

“Aphmau,” Laurance said, never one to care for titles. He is a friend of their Lord, just as Garroth is, but Laurance knows what friendship is, what it means to have them. Garroth only remembers the grueling hours in his room, looking over notes of nobles and people with status and wealth and power and his father's voice echoing you need connections, Garroth. Allies. Friendship was not a privilege Garroth had ever been allowed, until now. 

His Lord steps closer, and her hand hesitantly reaches out for Garroth, but stops mid-action, before she pulls it back. Garroth is too tired to tell his Lord that he would rather she leave him, for he is too vulnerable to be seen with her eyes. Laurance is still running his fingers through Garroth’s hair. 

“Have you taken him to the healers?” Is what Garroth hears his Lord say, voice sounding just as concerned and vulnerable as it had the day he'd arrived back to Phoenix Drop. 

Laurance nods, and Garroth can feel the action as he flutters his eyes closed again, letting the world around him disappear. Laurance and his Lord are still talking, but their chatter has become white noise, and all Garroth can focus on are the cold hands on his face and in his hair. It is a grounding sort of comfort. 

Those small movements, gentle and loving, are what cause Garroth to slip into a light sleep. He does not think he'd have it any other way. Like this, he is protected. Like this, he knows he is safe. Laurance would not let anyone hurt Garroth. Laurance would not leave Garroth’s side. Guards are meant to stay vigilant, alert, but Garroth thinks that he can make an exception, just this once, because Laurance is so comfy and safe and Garroth never wants to leave the small bubble that has wrapped around them. 

But eventually, everything must pop.