Chapter Text
If he thought Aretia without Liam was hell, he was forced to reconsider the harsh truth the moment they landed in Basgiath. They hadn’t even touched the ground yet, and he already couldn’t breathe.
Shit.
“Hey, woah! Easy there!”
Imogen’s hands rushed to meet him, steadying him as he almost stumbled down Cuir’s hindleg, her worried eyes boring into him. While he had been able to mask his feelings around Garrick and Xaden, he was always more vulnerable when it came to Imogen, she just knew him too well, being in the same year and all.
“I’m fine,” he quickly reassured both her and his dragon, whose head was lowered close to his own, “let’s get this done with and hope Sorrengail is right about her mother.”
If she wasn’t, they would all be dead by that same night, and truth be told, he could not fully bring himself to care.
Being executed upon arrival would probably have been less excruciating than walking the familiar corridors of the place he had somehow reluctantly grown attached to.
There were memories in every single corner, from the Battle Brief classroom, to the small alcove in the corridor on the second years’ floor, to the dark corridor leading to the Scribe quadrant.
No matter how hard he tried to escape them, the memories always ran faster and waited to meet him at every turn, claiming his self-control and his sanity.
Liam was everywhere.
He was in the empty space among his squadmates during formation and in their eyes wandering around looking for him before they remembered they would not find him there anymore. He was in the lost glances of the other Marked Ones who always relied on him, and now struggled to find a steady ground beneath their feet.
He was in the steps behind him, which never sounded right because he was always so quiet he could sneak up on him whenever he wanted. He was in the empty gym and sparring mat late at night when nobody would even know where they were.
He was in the half finished wooden miniatures he would find in the middle of his stuff, cluttering his bedroom with works in progress that now would forever remain stuck as they were.
He was in the quiet of the night as he laid alone in his bed, pressing one fist to his lips to push back the guttural cries that tore through him, not because he feared his sound wards would fail and attract anyone’s attention, but because he did not want his pain to ever reach Malek’s realm and be heard by Liam.
He screamed in silence, his arm still in a sling a painful reminder of that battle, of the day he had utterly, irremediably failed his lover.
Sleep hardly came, and when it did, it was still plagued with nightmares that made him long for the hours of wake.
Tairn is in trouble
Cuir’s voice was worried and surprised, as if he hadn’t expected the black morningstartail to ever be in trouble, and he banked sharply to the right to rush to his aid, Bodhi barely holding on as his eyes scanned the sky.
Wyverns were chasing Sgaeyl, and even from that distance he could tell that his cousin was pushing himself to the limit. They were both too busy and too far to get to Tairn and Violet in time.
Faster, he begged Cuir, lowering himself as the speed increased, the dragon cutting through the air. If Xaden couldn’t get to Violet, then he would. He would be damned before he let anything come close to harming the one person who had managed to bring out at least a portion of the cousin he used to know before the apostasy.
He could finally see Tairn and the wyvern latching onto his side like a parasite, he could hear his roars, while Violet’s voice was stolen by the wind.
Now would have been a great moment to have an actually useful signet, but he did not have time to dwell on self-pity, he had to move, and fast.
Don’t you even try to unse–
Cuir’s lecture was abruptly cut short when a red bolt appeared from seemingly nowhere and slammed into the wyvern, and both dragon and rider screamed in horror as the rider of the red daggertail was thrown off his back.
The rest was a blur. Violet somehow holding on to Liam, Deigh fighting the wyvern, Cuir hollering that they needed to get to them, another wyvern appearing in front of them, with a venin on its back.
Bodhi’s entire being had burnt with rage at being held back from helping his lover, his rush to get rid of the venin clouding his better judgement. With no signet like shadows or ice, he had no other choice but hand-to-hand combat, all on the back of his dragon.
Cuir slammed his shields up the moment Deigh screeched, but even so, Bodhi knew what had just happened, what was about to happen. Deigh lost, he was dead, and Liam... Pain exploded into his chest, so strong and sudden it felt like a stab, and Bodhi lowered his sword. What was the point in continuing his fight? He could just go with Liam... He snapped out of those thoughts in a moment, but that moment was all it took for the venin to grab onto his arm and yank, twisting it in an unnatural angle and then another, dragging the rest of his body with it, making him lose his foothold on Cuir’s scales. The dragon roared and swinged his tail, trying to hit the venin, but there was only so much he could do.
Blood and wind roared in Bodhi’s ears, but only Liam’s name kept echoing in his mind.
Not even in his nightmares he had any memory of how he had finally gotten rid of the venin, all he knew is they always ended up in the same way.
His freefall from the sky, eyes locked on Deigh falling from the sky as the wyvern that gutted him screeched in triumph.
He woke up with a gasp, and then another and another as he wheezed, desperate for air as he drowned in his own tears.
He sat up and instinctively reached for the side of the bed Liam would usually occupy whenever he sneaked into his bedroom for the night, and nausea hit him when his hand fell on cold, empty sheets.
Liam is gone, he reminded himself, and the words stuck and he kept repeating it over and over again, both in his mind and out loud, forcing them into his system like a poison, scorching them into his skin and tissues. Liam is gone. Liam is gone. He’s gone. He’s dead. Like Soleil. Like mom. Like uncle Fen. They’re all gone. Liam is dead.
His screams could no longer be silenced, he was no longer in control of his own body, it was shaking uncontrollably and his hands were clawing at his skin, wherever he could reach, sling forgotten and pain engulfing him like fire.
He should have just burnt back then, next to his family, it would have been more merciful than whatever this was now.
Liam is gone.
The same Liam whose scent he could swear he still felt on his pillow. Liam, who had come looking for him after Parapet with fire in his eyes and a long-due confession he had thought forgotten. Liam, whom he had so stupidly pushed away for the first part of the year because he needed to earn respect and prove himself on his own instead of being accused of sleeping his way through ranks. Liam, who forced his way into his arms first, his bed next and his heart later, because he had been such an idiot to guard it so much, thinking they had had time.
Liam, who had always been there, until he was no longer.
Liam is dead.
The air was not enough in the room, his entire body was soaked, and power burnt deep inside him, begging for release, but with nowhere to go because a fucking useless signet like countering needed to latch onto someone else’s to be released, and he was alone in his room, with nowhere to run, no one to hold him and promise things would be alright.
Things would never be alright. Liam was gone and it should have been him instead.
The door slammed open, and then hands were on his own, gently but firmly prying them away from his face, guiding his arm back into its sling. A familiar voice called his name, but it seemed to come from miles away as his head swam.
Eventually, he felt himself being pulled in an embrace, someone strong and steady against him. He clung to them like a child and just let himself break further and further, until there was nothing left of him.
Dawn was breaking through the window when he finally managed to suck a breath through his teeth deep enough to reach his lungs. It shuddered and was not enough, but it was a start. He let himself slowly come to his senses and slowly started to be more aware of his surroundings, of the mess of bedsheets tossed to the side, half on the ground, a pillow on the other side of the room… he flinched and hid his face again in the other person’s arm as a memory of the last time him and Liam had reduced his room to an even worse state, and a hand ran gently through his hair.
Come back to us, Bodhi Durran. You are here, and your lover is not, but you have to live through this pain. I chose you for your strength, you will live.
Cuir’s voice was gentle, but it sounded so cruel in his head that he grounded himself steady in his mental representation of the armory in Riorson House where him, Xaden, Garrick and Imogen used to live thousands of adventures as children, and slammed its gigantic doors hard against his greenish flow of power, the connection going quiet and leaving him panting.
“I’m here, Bodhi. You’re alright, I promise. I’ve got you. I’ve got you.”
This other voice, coming from the outside rather than the inside, was a much more welcome one, and it helped him draw a few more steadying breaths until he was finally able to pull back from Imogen and turn to face her. She had tear streaks down her face matching his.
“There you are,” she said, forcing a small smile to her lips, “you kinda scared me there for a minute…”
It wasn’t like the Imogen Cardulo to admit such a thing, but it was something his Im would have no problem admitting. As tough and harsh as she may look, she was fiercely protective of them, and just as terrified of losing any of them as they all were.
Losing Liam and Soleil had taken its toll on her too.
“Sorry,” Bodhi managed to choke out, his voice raw and his throat burning. He began to pull himself together piece by piece, knowing fully well he would never be able to be whole again, but he owed her this much. He could remain empty inside, but he could give her and the others a resemblance of normalcy.
“No bullshit. And please lower your shields, before Cuir loses his shit and Glane claws his eyes out in sheer annoyance. Glane’s words, not mine, of course.”
Too tired to even reply, Bodhi did as asked, rubbing his eyes with his good hand. He felt Cuir’s annoyance for a moment, but even his dragon must have taken pity on him, for it was soon replaced by quiet comfort.
I’m sorry, he tentatively sent through their bond.
You are just a human, I should bear that in mind. Your feelings command you, and it would be hypocritical of me to judge you for your heart, when I chose you for it.
Imogen smiled at him when she noticed he was talking to his dragon again, waiting patiently for them to finish.
I doubt there’s any heart left in me, Cuir… Bodhi lowered his eyes, biting his lower lip to fight back tears he did not even think he still had left in his heart.
His head was pounding and his eyes burnt, and honestly he felt too exhausted for another round of crying.
Give it time, and you will find it’s beating as fiercely as ever. Do not forget your strength and stop doubting yourself. You. will. live.
Bodhi’s shoulders sagged in defeat, and Imogen reached out for his uninjured hand with both of hers.
Shit, he would have to tell her. There was no way he could hide this anymore, she had seen him at his worst, and now he owed her an explanation…
You need your friend, Cuir reminded him, Glane’s girl cares deeply for you.
He knew she did, as he did for her. It had always been like that. Xaden had Garrick and Bodhi had Imogen, they guarded each other’s backs and counted one on another.
Basgiath may have changed some of their dynamics, but their core had never faltered.
“Whenever you’re ready,” she said softly, the tone not suiting her appearance now, but when he looked at her, he did not see the trained war machine they were making of her, he saw the girl she used to be when their parents were still alive, who cared deeply and protected those she claimed as hers.
“I’ll never be ready, so may as well do it now,” he shrugged, putting on a facade for his own sanity. He wasn’t as good as Xaden at hiding his feelings, but he did share some of his talent. The only difference was that he wore a smile where his cousin wore a murderous look. “I–” the words died on his tongue, and no matter how many times he tried to find his way through them, it felt like his own voice kept failing him.
Help me out, please? He called out to Cuir, ashamed of his own ineptitude.
The dragon steadied his emotions with his own, and he noticed that Imogen seemed to be listening to something Glane was saying as well.
He followed her gaze to one of the half finished wooden representations of Deigh sitting on his desk, Liam’s carving knife lying next to it, then to one of the first year’s books abandoned nearby. She kept looking around, taking in more and more signs of Liam’s presence that Bodhi only now realised he had been supposed to burn, and he saw the moment she figured it out.
Her head snapped back towards him, lips slightly parted and a look of devastation on her face.
“You were–”
“In love with him,” it came out as a pained gasp, but it did, “yeah…”
She opened and closed her mouth a few times, at loss of what to say, then just reached out for him and pulled him to her chest once again. He could hear her heart thundering in her chest, he felt her sympathy in the way she was holding him, and finally he relaxed into her arms, his entire body screaming in pain now that he allowed himself to register it.
It was still nothing compared to the one he felt in the hollow of his chest.
“Oh, Bodhi,” she murmured into his hair, and he knew she hated this. Words had never been her forte, she was good at dealing with situations and fixing things, but this was something that hit too close to home for her as well. Losing a loved one, no matter what kind of love was something they all had in common, but the way they dealt with their grief was very different for all of them.
He gently pushed her off, this time, then stood up carefully to make his way to the desk, his hand hovering over Deigh’s miniature. For the first time, his mind was clear enough to recognise a pain that did not belong to him, but to Cuir.
He had been so lost in his own grief, he had forgotten his dragon had lost a friend too.
I will live, Cuir murmured sadly, almost timidly, for him. And so will you. We carry their memories with us.
Oh.
Bodhi shook his head at his own stupidity for not understanding sooner what his dragon had been trying to tell him.
Seems like I owe you an apology…
We don’t need such things between us, little one. Cuir paused, almost like he was hesitating, and when Bodhi tried to prompt him, he could not fully read the emotions he was receiving.
“Uhm… Glane, Cuir and Chradh are wondering if– you plan on burning that one,” Imogen said, standing up from the bed as well.
Bodhi’s hand wrapped protectively around the miniature and he brought it close to his chest, whipping around to face her.
“Relax, I’m not taking that from you,” she reassured, raising her hands to show no harm. “I take that as your answer?”
He looked down at the apparently harmless little thing. How could such a small object bear so much inside?
Just a little wooden figure of a dragon who used to live, fly and breathe fire, made by a human who used to live, breathe and love.
Liam always put such great care in his carvings, he said he liked the thought of using a knife for something different than hurting another, that it could be used to create beauty, and he liked to see the smile on his friends’ faces when he gifted them the miniatures of their own dragons.
He had made one of Cuir as well, and the green had hummed appreciatively at the resemblance, making them both laugh. It felt like a lifetime ago, when it was barely even a month.
Liam’s miniatures held his care, his patience, his love, his energy.
Bodhi shivered, holding onto the miniature like to a lifeline, closing his eyes and letting himself pretend, for just a moment, that he could still feel that energy, that a part of Liam and Deigh still lived in that small piece of wood, still incomplete and lacking details, but that’s how Liam’s life had been too.
Interrupted abruptly before he could do anything else with it, but still carried out to the best of his possibilities.
“I’m not burning it, Malek forgive me,” he whispered, bowing his head and bringing the miniature to his lips, like he had done countless times with Liam’s hands.
We will live, and we will fight, he promised to Cuir, to himself, to Liam. Even if the worst battle is waking up to yet another day without you in it.
Maybe his exhaustion was finally getting to him, because for a moment he could swear he caught a glimpse of blond hair and blue eyes in the furthest corner of the room, and a flash of a familiar smile as the voice he had been longing to hear for weeks caressed his ears.
You will, my heart. And when the time comes, please allow yourself to love again.