You Were Light
Summary: All this devotion’s a double-edged sword, slotted painfully between Simon’s ribs. The only thing left to do is bleed. Chapter(s): 1/1 Word count: 2,426 Note(s): set-Act 1. The inherent tragedy of paralleling nightmares and reality. Devotion, for better or for worse. Also available on ao3!
The heavyset border wall breaks after barely an hour of persistent ramming.
The first of the honed Barroth smashes through the mortar, shaking off dust and stone as they find their footing again. The Tobi-Kadachis come next, sleek and powerful, prowling low to the ground. They’re big and well-bred, clearly trained for war and well-maintained no matter how dire Vermeil’s situation was. And then there was the armor, which seemed to suck in any scraps of sunlight that managed to punch down through the clouds.
It’s a terrible matchup. This stretch of the border wall sported only light infantry and a regiment of Riders wielding Velocidromes. They’d dug out a small line of creaking ballistae, hauled from the nearby garrison that morning, when the hammering had first started. As chance would have it, they had two scorpions too, but even they seemed puny against the looming Barroth. The captain of the guard falters, but experience and pride quickly rush back in as he unsheathes his sword. His Velocidrome bellows a challenge that’s quickly picked up by the rest of the defenders.
Vermeil charges, a line of thundering Barroth with the Tobi-Kadachi rushing through the gaps. Azurian artillery fires back as the men brace behind shields. It’s bitter, miserable fighting as the Velocidrome surge forwards, claws gleaming and teeth snapping. Somewhere in the churned up dust comes the crash of lightning, chased by the twang of a heavy bolt and an ear-splitting shriek of pain.
This is the scene that Adrean wheels Ratha onto, his father’s missive heavy in his pocket. With Gaul on his left and Simon to his right, they wheel across the field, both Legiana shrieking as their wings clip the heads of the armored invaders. Ratha banks sharply as a Tobi-Kadachi leaps out at them, legs kicking out ferociously. His claws find purchase in the Tobi-Kadachi’s unprotected belly, and the creature twists out of its glide and back towards earth, poisoned.
“In the air!” Adrean shouts, as one of the Barroth lowers its head and charges forward like a steam engine. They clear out of its way, but just barely.
And through it all, Vermeil presses forward with the assault. Any opening their Tobi-Kadachi can use to gain height, they take, intent on downing the Legiana before the rest of Azuria’s prized Wyvern Brigade can arrive to offer them support. The Rathalos they keep a watchful eye on, carefully baiting him, sticking close to their other targets such that it has no room to kick out or spit fire lest it hit its own allies. The Azurian prince must notice this too, because he pulls his Rathalos back, putting distance between him and his Legiana guard as he tries to reassess how best to help out.
It’s the gleam of light against steel on the Vermeillian side that first catches Simon’s attention. A scorpion pulled by an Anjanath clears the destroyed wall, already loaded before its march, with another held waiting by its crew. Simon’s breath shudders in his lungs as the Anjanath unleashes a furious stream of fire, pushing back the advancing guard captain. Terror seizes in his veins when he turns and cannot find the prince.
“They’re going to shoot him!” he shouts at Gaul as Legia snaps out of a spinning drill. Vermeil doesn’t even give the other man the courtesy of acknowledging if he’d even heard Simon in the first place, for a pair of Tobi-Kadachis come flying out of the icy mist in Legia’s wake, and then all either the two of them can do is swear and focus on getting out of the way, lightning crackling on their tails. Simon gives the reins over to Fawn, trusting her instincts as he strains desperately through the smoke. At last, after much too long, he catches a flash of red. A shift of his legs has Fawn twisting gracefully through the air, and this time he does hear Gaul shout after him as he pelts off towards the mirage of Ratha.
To his horror, Ratha was headed right for the scorpion. The defending Anjanath bellows up at them, and the first bolt is released. Ratha rolls out of the way, but gets clipped by the second one while trying to avoid a blast of fire. Fawn struggles to close the remaining distance between them and a floundering Ratha, and the third bolt strikes true. Ratha rears back, roaring, flames spitting from his mouth as wyvern and prince plunge towards the ground. Simon doesn’t even hear his own scream as he urges Fawn into a dive.
Adrean’s eyes are wide with terror when he looks up and sees Simon falling through the sky after him. Fawn’s entire body is folded close in a desperate attempt to gain more speed, and Simon himself was leaning so far forward in the saddle that he might as well no longer be in it. But worse than the terror, worse than Ratha’s pain, was the sharp cutting relief in the other man’s eyes to see that Simon was still standing.
Simon doesn’t even get close enough for his fingers to brush against the spikes on Ratha’s tail. His prince hits the ground in a huge rolling crash, and doesn’t move again afterwards.
.
Simon wakes with a shuddering gasp, strangled in a mess of blankets and with his heart hammering straight through his sternum. Their camp on the Sunpetal Plains is quiet, all the Rangers retired to bed with only a few cursory lamps still lit. For several long, tortuous moments, it is all he can do to just lay there, lightheaded with how much it hurts to breathe. It had felt too real—the cold snap of Fawn’s ice as she unleashed an attack, the whipping of wind as Legia and Gaul breezed past them. Adrean, face a blank mask as he received the king’s missive. Adrean, head bowed over Ratha’s in the stables, smile thin and hands shaking. Adrean, crashing through the sky, afraid. Adrean, Adrean, Adrean.
Before he’s even quite aware of himself, Simon has torn himself from his sheets, tugging his sleeves low over his hands as he pushes to his feet. It’s with near-frantic energy that he tugs back the curtain demarcating the prince’s sleeping alcove from the rest of the tent, hung only because Rudy insisted on propriety. The alcove is a mess of notebooks and half-drawn sketches, but the prince is there, deep asleep, chest rising and falling with each steady breath.
All the strength drains immediately from Simon’s limbs, and he sags into a tent pole, dragging his hands down his face. A nightmare. Only a nightmare. Not the first he’s ever had, but certainly one of the worst. Maybe he should take Ogden’s advice, and curl up in a squashy armchair in some warm spot and lose himself in a cloud or two. Or perhaps he should take a page out of Thea’s book and work harder, so that he could doubly ensure the prince’s safety. He should—
“What the—Simon?” comes a voice, effectively hauling Simon from his thoughts. He looks up to see Adrean squinting at him, face unguarded and fuzzy with sleep. When Simon doesn’t immediately reply, the prince lifts himself up to his elbows, wincing as he digs one of them into the corner of a notebook. “What’s wrong?” he asks, shoving it away without a second glance, expression sharpening with each subsequent blink.
“Couldn’t sleep, is all,” Simon eventually murmurs, though it takes him two tries to get it out. To his great dismay, all that succeeds in doing is getting Adrean to sit up fully. The words “it’s nothing important” sit on his tongue, but refuse to be given voice.
Eventually, Adrean heaves a sigh. “Have you been getting much sleep at all, lately?” he asks, shuffling papers aside. He pats the newly cleared area, looking pointedly at Simon. “Come here,” he says, and Simon is so befuddled that he obeys, letting the curtain fall shut behind him as he does so.
“Rudy will have a fit when he finds out,” Simon points out, fumbling with the book that Adrean presses into his hands. It’s a thin volume, clearly well-loved, with a moss green cover and gilt edges. A little Rathalos and Rathian pair were painted in the middle, each sporting a tiny Rider. “A children’s book?” he asks.
Adrean flushes even as he lifts his chin up defiantly. “It’s a good story and it’s easy to carry around,” he argues. Then, softer: “And it was one of the last gifts I received from Mother. So I like keeping it with me.”
“Oh,” Simon says, floored. “I’m happy to… hold it, then?”
Adrean groans. “No, it’s for you to read,” he hisses. “Tomorrow we’ll be looking into reports from the locals about agitated endemic life, and I need everyone to be alert. If I let you go off on your own now you’ll just think yourself into another restless night. You might as well read something and settle yourself down that way, and I know the books you have currently aren’t the sort for mindless reading.”
Simon flounders. “I couldn’t possibly impose—” he tries, and quails under Adrean’s withering look. “Rudy will object,” he tries again.
Adrean glances around the alcove, and then turns back to Simon with a single raised brow. “As valuable as I find Rudy’s counsel, he’s not here at present,” he says. Gentler, he adds: “You can’t just wake me up in the middle of the night and expect me not to worry, Simon. What kind of best friend would I be, then?”
“That’s unfair,” Simon says weakly, but Adrean would not be swayed. He simply passed over the lamp and then slid right back under the covers, stretching with a soft sigh before curling up again, facing away from the light. Simon stared helplessly at his back, heart turning somersaults in his throat, clutching the little book like a lifeline.
He makes it through three pages before he gives up all pretense of reading. Adrean’s already fallen back asleep by then, and Simon’s attention is wholly focused on the cadence of his breathing and the comfort of having it close by. It felt like a terrible thing to covet after Simon had so badly messed up, even if only in the confines of his nightmares. And yet he did want it, selfishly.
It was clearly time he went back to his own bed. Instead, he slides Adrean’s precious book gently atop the rest of his papers and turns down the lamp. When he dreams again, it is only of the clear blue skies of Azuria.
.
Fawn angles herself on an updraft, using the boost in speed to clip the side of Vermeil’s Rathalos. The monster rears back, jaws snapping at Fawn’s tail, but she’s already winging away and circling back to Adrean. “The others will buy us some time, but we need to go now!” Simon shouts, urging Fawn forwards, knowing without looking back that Ratha would follow.
But it seemed like no time had passed before fireballs were chasing them yet again. The heat was unbearable, making their flight so choppy that it takes Simon until the third attack to realize that Adrean was moving deliberately behind him, using Ratha’s heavier bulk to shield Fawn from the worst of the blasts. Gritting his teeth, he pulls Fawn upwards, away from the limited cover the treetops had been offering. In the open air, Fawn would have more maneuverability, and wouldn’t need Ratha to act as a shield. Then Adrean could focus on escaping, like Simon knew Ogden had specifically instructed him to do before they’d set off.
“They’re still following!” Adrean shouts below him, and it’s like his nightmare all over again. Ratha was slower on a vertical climb than Fawn was, but he wouldn’t deviate from it, not while Simon and Fawn were still ahead of them. Why was Vermeil still chasing them, when it was clear that this was their final escape route? They’d promised him—
“Steady, Ratha,” he hears Adrean call out, and he makes his decision. Fawn obeys without question, turning on a dime. Simon ignores Adrean’s cry of alarm as Fawn angles in for a kick, landing hard on Vermeil’s Rathalos. The fire dies in its jaws as they’re pushed back, wings flapping furiously as both monsters fight to maintain balance.
He keeps his body turned deliberately away from Adrean as he leans over to snarl at the queen. He can barely hear anything over the blood rushing in his ears, even though he wants nothing more than to hear the sound of Ratha flying away. Queen Clarissa’s eyes are as cold as crystal as they glare up at him, and that’s really all the warning he gets before the Rathalos twists away from Fawn’s claws. With one clean maneuver, it plants a clawed foot right onto Fawn’s chest and shoves.
The next thing Simon knows, he’s staring up at the overcast sky, stomach swooping as he falls, Fawn struggling weakly to right herself as she plunges with him. His name is being screamed out, raw and terrified, and then there’s Ratha and Adrean, chasing him down. He hits what must be every branch of every tree on the way down, and the pain is immeasurable. When Adrean finally catches up to him, he is beside himself, eyes frantic yet hands still so damnably gentle, even when Simon drives a knife deep into his trust and begs him to go to the Sacrosanctum.
“Later,” Adrean hisses, hauling them both up as the Rathalos bears down on them once again. “We can talk about this later.” But there couldn’t be a later, Simon thinks hazily, not for the both of them, and if that was what it all boiled down to, then what was Simon when compared to Azuria’s heir?
What was Simon, if Adrean wasn’t there?
Ratha’s come into view now, hunched protectively over Fawn’s still form. Adrean’s grip on Simon tightens at the sight, and Simon can’t help but press his face firmly into the prince’s shoulder, greedy for any last scraps of courage to be found there. There’s fire at his back, too close, and Ratha won’t make it to them, even as he charges forward.
Simon presses in hard enough to leave a bruise on his cheek. When he trips, it’s genuine, but when he pushes, it’s with all his desperate strength. This time, his prince hits the ground and gets up again, and the fire consumes only Simon.
