Unbowed, Unbent, Unbroken | E, 15/?
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.
“Do you ever envision the end of the war?”
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.
Andrew’s hand caught the edge of the blanket before Nathaniel could move far.
Slowly, Nathaniel settled back down, leaving the blanket tucked between them, stopping any direct contact, but he let their bodies rest close enough for warmth to gather in the narrow space between them. He breathed in deeply, listening to the soft sounds of water lapping at rocks and the grasses blowing in the wind. For the first time in longer than he could remember, peace did not feel like a trick waiting to turn cruel. Beside him, Andrew stayed still and warm and awake long after Nathaniel’s eyes drifted shut.
