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Addam walks back into Rune’s room to find Brand in the same spot he’s been in for the last fourteen hours. While Addam had slept for ten of those hours, he didn’t need to ask Corinne for confirmation that Rune’s companion hasn’t left his side and likely hasn’t slept in all that time.
The chair he occupies is situated in the back corner of the room, turned toward Rune as he sleeps, the position allowing a visual of both the window and the door. There’s a sleeping bag between Rune’s bed and the door that lays unused. Brand sits forward, elbows resting on his thighs as his hands are folded in front of his mouth, gaze unwavering as if he could force Rune awake with his stare alone. At first glance, he looks more contemplative than anything else but the restlessness in his right leg gives more away than he probably wants.
Addam has been learning to read Brand just as well as Rune — the latter a slightly quicker study. Brand doesn’t leave much open for interpretation in his body language, whatever he doesn’t want you to know is kept close to the vest. Addam has come to understand that Brand’s anger and abrasiveness are emotions he deems safe to display, everything else… not so much. Even so, there are moments like this when things slip through. Although, Addam suspects that has more to do with Brand's trust in him than it does a lapse in the bodyguard’s defenses.
There is one new addition that wasn’t there when Addam left to go rest in Brand’s room across the hall — a chair, situated between Rune’s bed and the window. It’s a nice armchair, cushioned and sturdy, one Addam could see himself napping in as the sunlight streams into the room, falling upon the chair and Rune’s sheets. Addam recognizes it from the parlor downstairs, one of the few rooms in the Compound that was furnished with more than the bare minimum.
The comfort and warmth of the chair by the window brings a stark contrast to the one Brand himself sits in, it’s one of the kitchen chairs, dark wood, sturdy too with a back that would be supportive if the occupant was taking advantage of that feature. But Addam knows a chair like that can’t be comfortable to sit in for longer than a few hours, never mind fourteen. And yet, Brand hasn’t moved and the chair by the window was brought in and left untouched.
He’s still in the clothes he wore when Rune and Addam were ripped from their time, his hair is plastered to his forehead as if the sweat dried it there. The length of it is pleasing to Addam, that's something he’s kept to himself. He likes the way the ends have started to curl as Brand’s grown it out.
“Sit.” Brand’s rough voice breaks through Addam’s thoughts. He’s not sure how long he’s been standing there staring at Brand as he thinks about chairs. He may have slept for ten hours but he could probably sleep for ten more. “I can watch your back fine from here.”
“I will,” Addam replies, before turning and walking back into the hallway. He hears the barest sound of confusion from Brand that he chooses to ignore.
Addam returns to the bedroom with a pair of his own workout shorts and an oversized T-shirt he often likes to sleep in. Queenie must have packed them when Brand moved the whole family out here. They were waiting for him on Brand’s bed when he woke up not too long ago. He’s sure there is a change of clothes for Brand somewhere as well but these are as good as any.
Addam doesn’t say anything as he holds them out to Brand, anticipating that the gesture will be enough, that the other man won’t want to verbalize more than he has to at this moment. When Brand gives him a blank stare in reply, Addam realizes perhaps his friend is further gone in his own mind than he thought. It’s not the first time he wishes he had the type of bond that Brand and Rune have with each other, that he could read their emotions and their minds much easier, that they could communicate with less than a glance.
Instead of answering right away, Addam sinks to the floor in front of Brand, his knees hitting the hardwood as softly as he can manage. He places the folded clothes next to him and gestures toward Brand’s boots. Addam does his best to meet Brand’s piercing stare, the crystalline blue of them hard to look at. His eyes are wide and Addam thinks Brand just might be holding his breath.
He finally nods, moving his feet closer to Addam, and turns his gaze back to Rune. As Addam reaches for the laces, he realizes his hands aren’t as steady as he would like them to be. He’s been close to Brand before, they’ve bathed together for gods’ sake but this is something different. Addam has always had a few inches on him, having Brand look down on him is new and surprisingly nerve-wracking. He’s never noticed how long the other man’s eyelashes are.
Addam shakes his head slightly to clear his mind and focuses back on his task. The boots Brand wears are black and heavy, with sturdy grips on the bottom. The laces are thick and double-knotted, secure enough for the work that Brand does. He takes his time untying them, fingering the loops and pulling gently to loosen them. The act is almost meditative, it centers him more than he thought it would.
There is an intimacy in the way he holds Brand’s calf as he slips the boot from his foot, he can feel the warmth radiating from under the fabric of his pant leg. It feels like a small act of devotion, worshiping at the altar of the man sworn to protect the person he loves, the man who protects them all, a God of War that Addam feels indebted to. When he’s done, there’s a part of Addam that wishes to stay down there longer, to find some other task he could do for Brand, something useful and appreciated.
After a moment, Addam gets up, picking up his clothes as he does. He stands over Brand now, positioned closer than he normally would be. He pushes the shorts and T-shirt into Brand’s hands before taking a step back.
“I will sit and watch,” Addam explains. “You will change. You trust me with him. I can even turn around if you don’t want to leave the room. But you can take your eyes off him for a moment. I am here.”
Brand stares at him for a few seconds before nodding and rising to get up. Addam gives him his space, taking up vigil in the armchair by Rune’s side. He hears Brand’s movements as he changes but keeps his word and his eyes trained on Rune.
Rune will always be beautiful to Addam, the contours of his face, the softness of his cheeks, the warm tan of his skin that seems to have a glow to it even when his aspect isn’t lit, the way his bottom lip pouts just enough to distract. But Rune like this, unconscious, unreachable, unmoving, that unsettles Addam to his bones. Seeing him like this, it’s difficult, especially knowing he was the last person to see him awake and speaking, he has to be the keeper of the knowledge of what happened in there, alone.
Addam pushes down the feelings that rise when he thinks of the conversations they had in the time stream. If he dwells on that too long, especially with Rune out of commission, he fears how far his mind will spiral.
He keeps watching Rune, despite the difficulty of it, because he told Brand he would. Addam cheats a little, taking in the details of the room for the first time. It’s like a time capsule of teenage Rune, the Wham! poster still on the wall across from the bed, a dresser with a variety of stickers plastered all over, some DVDs stacked on top of it.
The walls themselves are painted a light blue, surrounding Rune like the sky on a clear day when it’s high noon, the kind that allows the sun to dance across uninhibited, a stark bright contrast complimented by the cool lightness. It then hits Addam that the color of the walls is a strangely familiar shade, the same as the eyes of the person behind him. The realization isn’t startling, nor is it unwelcome. There is a deep comfort in that sky blue.
Addam wonders who made that paint choice, if it was in fact Rune, he doubts it was a conscious decision. Brand is just that embedded into his life— their lives now and Addam can’t find it in himself to object. It’s a lovely hue that blankets them.
“Thank you,” Brand says as Addam hears him sit back down, the chair creaking under his weight. Addam has always been fond of Brand’s voice, its rough edges, the masculine low register, how loud he gets and the faint hint of an accent from a city he’s from but has never lived in.
The voice Brand speaks with now is too low, not quite soft, but there’s a lack of the confidence in it that he’s become used to. When Brand speaks, there is rarely a doubt in Addam’s mind that the situation will be handled in whatever way is deemed necessary. Not matter how many “fucks” or “shits” get sprinkled in, Brand speaks with authority and an air of certainty that he will figure it out. That is not what Addam hears now.
There’s a sense of defeat in it that breaks his heart, almost as much as seeing Rune still as he is, the only movement the shallow rise and fall of his chest. He’d spent time recharging his healing sigils and watching helplessly as nothing he, the Tower, or Ciaran did made any progress in waking Rune. What a cruel realization it was that the only thing that would help him now was time… the very thing they were fighting against. Addam had never been a particularly violent or reactive person, but the last 24 hours has been testing his patience.
If Addam felt helpless, he couldn’t imagine the depth of Brand’s own suffering in the situation. Addam had been the one to experience the time stream with Rune and what a fucked-up small miracle that was. If Brand had been the one to attach himself to Rune instead, then he would have seen himself… would have asked questions of Rune he wouldn’t have survived knowing the answers to.
Gods, he wasn’t even thinking when he had grabbed onto Rune, and if he hadn’t, if Brand didn’t either, Rune would have been in there alone, would have had to relive all of that alone. It makes Addam sick to his stomach but he can’t dwell on any of that now, he has to swallow down the bile and focus on Rune, on Brand, on making sure his partner’s companion survives whatever comes next.
Rune will wake up, that Addam is sure of — Quinn hasn’t made as many reassurances as Addam would have liked but his belief in Rune has always been strong. Any other outcome is simply not an option. Rune will wake up and Brand will be there to see it.
Addam knows that any reassurances he could offer Brand wouldn’t be welcome nor accepted. Brand is his own harshest critic, especially when it comes to Rune’s safety and well-being. He hasn’t spoken about it and Addam doesn’t expect he will, but it’s easy to read on his face if you know what to look for. He blames himself, like Addam imagines he does for a lot of other things too.
Trying to reason with Brand or tell him that he can’t possibly be responsible for the bad things that happen to Rune is a losing battle from the start — any companion worth their salt will take that on, it’s engrained in their DNA by the end of their training. Addam can’t say he thinks that’s the healthiest thought process but he also can’t really see any way around it. He knows if his entire life was dedicated to protecting another person, a person who’s emotions live in your head, he wouldn’t think any differently. Hells, he often thinks that way about Quinn, feels the weight of that responsibility in raising his brother.
But that on top of everything Rune had confessed to Addam about that night — the geas, the putrid violation of Brand’s free will and bodily autonomy. Are the horrors these two have faced never-ending? Is there no justice? Will there be no retribution?
The groaning of the chair alerts him to the pressure he’s been exerting on the innocent armrests. He hopes that his aspect hasn’t made an appearance, more for Brand’s sake than his own. His anger has no use here, not right now, not in this room. It won’t help Brand and it certainly won’t help Rune.
Addam takes a few deep breaths, closing his eyes, imagining some of the classical music he listens to while he charges his sigils. His music taste is varied and diverse, he has playlists for different moods, all of which can be helpful for recharging depending on the day. When he needs to think less, he’ll turn on the classical music his mother would play at their Estate growing up. Addam is a trained dancer — ballet, waltz, salsa, even some tap, which would annoy Christian to no end. His mother had allowed it, encouraged it even, an activity that forced him to focus not only his body and his mind but his magic too.
The music he had listened to when charging his sigils over the last day in hopes of waking Rune was a contrasting mix of melancholy and bass-heavy sounds. The first worked to channel his grief, fear, and helplessness, the strongest emotions he was feeling, slower songs but powerful nonetheless, a fluid and loose movement of contemporary dance. The latter was more alternative, songs that reminded him of Rune, of Brand, their resilience, their strength. Steps and gestures that were freer and less structured, harsher and sweat-inducing. On another day under different circumstances, he would have asked Brand to join him, asked him to let go of the thoughts plaguing him, match his tempo and feel nothing but the beat and each other.
Channeling a calmer headspace now, he imagines the overture of Tchaikovsky’s Sleeping Beauty, thinking of the ways he would move his body if it was playing, keeping his breath in time with the notes. It centers him enough, the anger is still there, but he will have to deal with that another time.
No, Brand needs Addam here as he always is — calm, reassuring, steady. Like he told Rune outside the carriage house, he will be their strength, he will take on what they cannot do alone. He has promised that to Rune and he will promise that to Brand even if the other man isn’t aware of the vow being made.
Brand had told Addam that he would always be a part of Rune’s life. It was spoken like a warning, but all Addam had heard was a promise and he would match that commitment. He would marry Rune and he would have Brand any way that was wanted and appreciated.
His attraction to Brand was not a surprise, anyone who enjoyed a masculine physique would be blind not to notice him. However, that very conversation about expectations in the bath was what had truly endeared Brand to Addam, a deeper emotional bond had formed. He wasn’t entirely sure what the feelings were between his partner and his companion, he wasn’t even sure they knew themselves — their fight at the Green Docks made that much obvious.
It’s not a topic Addam will push, it isn’t his place to pry and he’s content to wait for the two of them to figure things out themselves. He waited for Rune to know what he wanted in their relationship and he will wait for Brand to do the same. Addam Saint Nicholas is nothing if not a patient man.
Being in Brand’s life, the way that he is, it’s enough for now. There is, however, a newfound drive in Addam to care for and protect Brand as best he can. Born primarily from Rune’s confession, it has grown as Addam’s come to realize that Brand is not as self-sufficient as he’s made himself out to be. Brand is a caretaker at heart and he does a hell of a job at it, with Rune, with Max, with Half House, and now Sun Estate. He single-handedly kept an entire Arcana House alive for two decades with little more than a holster and a superhuman power of will.
Brand Saint John is an immaculate human being but he is still human. He is not infallible and he is not capable of doing everything for everyone all the time despite his own desires to. Brand does a tremendous job of holding things together, he’s explosive yes, but he’s a problem solver and a hero in his own right. He doesn’t allow many people to see the chinks in his armor, the cracks in the facade, but Addam knows that they are there. Addam can see it on his face now.
With everything that Addam knows now, he wants nothing more than to shoulder that responsibility with Brand, to ease the burden he bears, in the same way he wants to with Rune. The two of them have carried on like this for so long, surviving circumstances that would make lesser men crumble. But Addam is here now, Addam can be there for them now. The Crusader Throne doesn’t need him, his mother’s desires for him mean little. What Addam wants is to be where he is needed — with Quinn, with Rune, with Brand, with the new kind of Throne they are building.
There is, of course, a guilt in the back of his mind that he is desperately trying not to fall into, because that’s what Rune has asked of him. His friendship and partnership with Ashton, that he unknowingly brought Rune face to face with one of his abusers, that Rune had to protect him against someone who had hurt him so vilely. His inability to see Ashton for who he truly was. It sickens him to think of the time they spent together, the tainted memories he now lives with.
But Addam knows there’s more than enough guilt between the three of them, Rune and Brand are both plagued by it, it weighs on them heavier than anything else. And Brand doesn’t even know the true extent of it. It’s a twisted ouroboros, the way Brand’s guilt feeds into Rune’s, a cycle of blame that neither of them can break free from. Addam wishes there was a way for him to absolve them of it, to make them understand they were only children and the only place blame lies is with their attackers.
Addam understands where that heavy weight of responsibility comes from. Brand and Rune have had each other’s back, have protected one another since they were infants. It is not a bond Addam will ever replicate, and that is okay. It is enough for him to be there for them in his own way, to be the conduit between the two of them, an added layer of protection and security. Brand will not ask for it, would not want it if he knew, but Addam will do it anyway, will do this one thing he can for Brand and not just because Rune asked. Brand has spent his whole life putting himself on the line for everyone else, it’s time that someone else does it for him.
Addam loves him, loves the life he has built for Rune, for himself, a life and a family that Addam and Quinn have the privilege of being welcomed into. It is not something Addam can easily repay or express his gratitude for, the magnitude of it too great but he will try every way he can, every day that he can.
He doesn’t risk looking at Brand again, he can’t promise his face won’t betray him, but he knows that Brand is seated, vigilant in his watch, looking for any sign of wakefulness from his companion. Addam can’t speak out loud, can’t vocalize his thoughts in a way that Brand would understand, that wouldn’t compromise this heavy secret he now carries. But in his mind, he vows I will stand between him and the truth, I will protect him, I will protect him, I will protect him…
There is a spark of magic in there, it sends shivers up Addam’s arms and Brand must feel it too because he leans forward in his chair, ready to be up at the first sign of movement from the bed. Addam almost feels guilty for making him think the surge of magical energy was something from Rune, but what’s one more omission?