The Lover's Loss

“The trees tell stories, you know?”

“I know. ‘The trees tell stories, and the blades of grass sing songs in the wind.’ Next you will tell me the squirrels are planning to overthrow Caer Dexow. Should we be warning the kingdom?”

“Hey now, those blasted little devils are evil, and you know it just as I. Now, would you listen to me?”

Ander’s laugh twinkled like stardust, and Matias wished he could take him far off into the hills where that laugh could only reach his ears and the skies it belonged to.

“They whisper lately-”

“The trees whisper?”

Matias glared at him pointedly before he sighed, easing back onto his bed frame with a comfortable sigh. For only a moment, Matias weighed his options— protect Ander’s peace, or protect Ander.

“My lord-”

“Darling, please,” Ander sighed, “I am only ‘your lord’ within the castle grounds.”

“The trees,” Matias groaned, unable to contain the upcurl of his lips. “They…speak of danger. Darkness. A cloud of night overtaking Dexow.”

At this, Ander sat up, a pique in interest evident in the darkening of his eyes. The kingdom did not take kindly to magical prophecies.

Ander always heard him out, always believed him.

“Danger? How so?”

“You know prophecies are notorious for being...deceitful.”

“What did these trees of yours say?”

All is dark and blood turns cold.

The loss of a lover’s hand to hold.

Crumbled walls and ramparts red

Hark, Hark, the king is dead.

“Well,” Ander seemed to weigh his words carefully, not quite meeting Matias’s eyes for a breadth of a moment. “I am not king. We are safe. We must warn my father, however.”

“How?” Matias groaned, as he had spent most of his life avoiding the king as much as possible. “He will not believe us. If he does he’ll have me killed. Nature speaks to magic, Ander.”

“I can convince Lachlan to tell my father that he’s heard whispers around the streets of a growing threat. Just take caution.”

One unacknowledged elephant occupied the room.

“Prophecies. I know. Mat, this is...” He huffed out a sigh that carried a weariness transplanted, surely, from another, more lived man. “How can you be sure? Perhaps they were talking about another king. Perhaps...”

“Perhaps...I lie.”

“I did not say that. Matias, I-”

“I may not get along with your father,” Matias spat, pulling away from beneath the Prince. “And I may not agree with his view of the world. I would not lie about this, your highness. Not this. Not you.”

That final word he spat with far more malice than intended. He knew he had upset Ander's world, but far too many of his years had been devoted to this kingdom, this royal family, this man before him, for him to turn around and accuse him of treason.

“Mat, I know this, love, but-”

“I wish to be alone for a time.”

Ander’s face dropped even more than Matias believed possible.

“Please, your highness. You should soon be returning to the castle. Your guards will-”

The roar of a foghorn split the night, before shouts in the far distance could be heard. Rushing to the window, Matias threw open the shutters to thick smoke and trees ablaze a few miles away.

“My father-”

“You are the priority right now, Prince Ander.”

“Matias! Please. You…You heard that prophecy. We must find my father. And please, stop calling me that? Just a little longer, let me be your lover and not your lord.”

That face before him broke Matias, tore apart his resolve. A gentle hand managed to intertwine in his, and instinctively he squeezed it, feeling rage settle into the passion he often found himself drawn to the power of.

“My apologies, darling. Let us find your father. Hurry, prepare your horse, and I will follow shortly. I am going to try to hear what is going on. I need to know what awaits us.”

‘If it is better to run off or run into the fray’, went unsaid.

The prince did as told, pressing thin, warm lips to the back of his hand before separating the two and heading out back. Matias gripped the windowsill as his eyes shut, feeling the energy around him spark to attention. He, of course, could not see, but Ander had once described his eyes to him, claiming them as one of his favorite parts of his sorcerer’s body.

‘When you call upon the earth, they are green as the emeralds in Mother’s crown. Fire burns just as bright, a brilliant sunset of orange and red swirls.' He had attempted to bury the lovestruck grin as the memory surfaced. 'I adore when you use fire magic, truthfully. I could stare at your eyes forever. Air turns them cloudy, with specks of blue like tiny stars invading the empty blanket of winter. Water’s a cool, gentle and swirling blue, but sprinkled with green like…tiny tadpoles.’

Ander never spoke of Chaos, because he did not know it existed. Matias made sure to— limited as he kept his magic usage- hold to nature, elements, goodness. Chaos- an amalgamation of all the darkness of the universe, all mankind’s pain, misery and heartache- was dangerous in the hands of even the most powerful sorcerers.

He did not need Chaos to eavesdrop. The wind carried voices, and with a mere flick of his finger, those voices were carried to his ear.

‘We cannot…longer…’

‘...Ulrich…Idira…hurry!’

‘...prince…’

He slammed shut the shutters for a moment, shoving away the noise with the wind. He found it dizzying, trying to get through the sea of voices. He needed another way in.

‘Seeing is far more dangerous than hearing. Breezes do not carry sights.’

Matias threw open the shutters once more with a tired exhale and rolled up his sleeves, muttering as he went:

“Geride pir netebras ocules mos, diev longeme”

Of course, he would be in the vestibule. He’d previously been outside, and his eyes– or at least, the spirit of his eyes that drifted within the cold hand of Chaos– had latched onto the closest darkness they could find within the fortress’ walls. He extended his hearing as far as it could go, nearly every sense encroaching, expanding into every wall. Finally, a scuffle, a door slamming, and terrified weeping coming from the dais. Matias lurched as every sense save for his eyes returned to his body in a snap, like a taut bowstring. His eyes returned outside, latching onto a nearby soldier. All the soldiers stood at attention, halting in their defenses. The enemy stopped, choosing to enjoy the spectacle of the officers above instead of finishing the fight they started.

“Today, Dexow falls!” The crowd erupted into cheers as blood erupted from the slashed throat of King Ulrich. Idira’s scream turned into furious, punching sobs and curses as the men dragged her off back into the fortress. Ulrich’s body remained, draped over the dais, his blood dripping down the stone.

“Matias!”

The man in question groaned as his body hit the floor like a sack of bricks. He blinked rapidly, never quite able to grow accustomed to the feeling of sight returning to the body. The blurriness in the face above him faded to reveal an extremely concerned Ander.

“Your eyes…”

“Please, darling,” he grumbled, accepting Ander’s outstretched hand and pulling himself to his feet with a nauseating sway. “You can tell me all about how they look later. We must leave quickly.”

As Matias tried to grab hold of his hand and leave the house, Ander held his ground firmly, drawing him back with hardly a yank. Matias’s stomach flipped as Ander turned him back around, searching for something Matias did not and could not, at the present moment, have within him. He had a mission, a prince to protect.

“You..looked like a statue, your skin pale, cold.”

He settled his hands selfishly against Ander’s cheeks, watching him jump only to ease back into the touch.

“What was that?”

“I will tell you, love, I swear, but not now. We must hurry!”

Ander had saddled up his horse, the steed picking at the grass below him. He perked up his head at the sight of his master, and Ander settled him before climbing on and aiding Matias into the saddle. The creature dashed into the forest at his command.

Turn back…Turn away

Hark, Hark, the King

Blood cold…ramparts red…

…The lover’s loss shall leave…YOU…DEAD!

“Matias! Mat, darling, can you hear me? Do I need to stop?”

“No,” Matias gasped, the sound grating against his eardrums. “They…are loud.” His knuckles paled where they gripped Ander’s tunic.

Smoke melded flawlessly with the night sky at Caer Dexow’s border. Watchtowers burned, bodies littering the ground beneath them. Blue haze clouded over Matias’s fingertips as dropped from the horse, calling forth any nearby water he could sense to douse the flames. Ander remained, eyes flickering to and fro, entranced by the way Matias bent the very foundations of nature to his will. A foghorn broke through the night air, and his head jerked in the direction of the sound, eyes scaling the castle wall.

The body that Matias knew would be hanging there, flung carelessly over the dais as before, now dangled meticulously from a rope, a sign of the downfall of Dexow.

‘We arrived too late’.

He called forth more water, launching it over the tops of mountains of fire that kissed the blanketed sky. ‘Ander…’

He considered Ander, but the stronghold’s resources were diminishing, and he too had a village to protect. He protected Ulrich and Ander so Ulrich and Ander could protect the people. He had failed Ulrich and Idira. He would not fail Ander.

Villagers trickled into the grounds as Matias doused the final embers, in shock at the state of things. He finally turned to his prince, only to find Ander slipping away, his horse vanishing into the trees. He cursed ‘neath his breath, managed to track down a cavalryman’s deserted stallion, and jumped aboard the blood-tainted saddle. Sending a speedy prayer to the heavens for the safe-keeping of the man’s soul and thanking him for his horse, Matias kicked off in Ander’s direction.

Reaching the near center of the woods between his home and the palace, his horse stopped with a mighty cry, flailing towards the sky. Matias felt himself upended from the saddle, crumpling to the ground with an aggressive punch to his back and an unholy screech in his ears.

The screech of fresh Chaos.

“Ander!” he shouted, looking across the skyline at the shadows, eyes tracing their route to their convergence upon the prince. Ander curled in on himself, sunken to his knees as tremors wracked his entire body. “Ander, can you hear me?”

Planting one hand into the dirt, Ander rose to his feet, hunched over and not meeting Matias’ eyes. His head raised and another, far more human and sorrowful scream burst from his throat, emboldened by the Chaos. Matias’s hands flew on their own, wrenching up a tornado of air and forming a shield, lessening the blow. The two fought as such for a moment, Matias’s teeth grit against the Chaos’s force. Finally, Ander relented, and the shadows recognized the weariness in his soul. They slowed, but continued their assault, red energy pulsing through their tendrils as they fed. He stood prone, eyes locked onto Matias, though distant, as though he did not recognize him.

“Ander…Darling, listen to me. I know…I know you are hurting, love, but-”

“You...know...nothing.”

He spat the words, a spark of remembrance lighting his eyes. His skin paled with every piece of him the darkness took. Matias tried to step closer, and one tendril wrenched itself from Ander’s throat to last out at him. A flick of a finger and it crashed into a wall of dirt, before he stepped back cautiously and watched as it returned to its feast.

“You tired of him, tired of being buried beneath his fist. You wanted magic more than anything, you have it. King Ulrich, my father, is no longer here to stop you.”

“I never wanted magic more than you.”

“I never wanted you!”

Silence. The kind that rang so loud it would send the fortress hounds mad, shatter every villager’s window. His heart ached, because something about, something about the way Ander sounded…

“You do not mean that. Ander, please…”

“I got stuck with you as a guard dog,” he chuckled, the dim in his eye glowing as furiously as the shadows around him. They surged, the red in their black swirls rising in hue. “Then came the magic. The most powerful ally in the kingdom, right under my father’s nose. If he had known, if he had suspected anything, he would have had you hanged! Someone had to keep you off his radar, and I had to make sure you did not turn on me.”

He took a deep inhale, rolling his shoulders back, flexing his fingers. “You turned on him instead!” The Chaos lunged, and around him, time seemed to stop. A different sound bombarded his eardrums, a chorus of whispers…

The loss of a lover’s hand to hold…

All is dark…Blood turns cold…

Something within him snapped, and he lunged forward, using the wind to toss away the oncoming darkness until he reached Ander. The prince snarled at him, any remaining light in his eyes gone as they locked arms, and Matias managed to flip and pin him.

“Ander, if you can hear me…I love you, darling, and I am sorry.”

‘There exists one cure for a Chaos-burdened soul’, he remembered Geldwin saying one cold night by the fire.

He recalled every star-lit night with Ander, the feeling of his skin on his arms as he held him close those nights his father was away. Matias held those close to heart as he pressed his lips onto Ander’s, holding firm despite the way the initial fight in him melted away. When his movements slowed, Matias felt a stabbing in his gut, then his throat, his chest. He pulled away, never losing that contact with Ander but watching as his own skin paled. He shivered, fell to his knees and missed the light, the memory, the love return to Ander’s eyes.

“Mat! Mat, darling, what…where are we? My…My father, the kingdom…? It was cold. Are you alright? Mat, can you hear me?”

“An…And…,” Matias choked, the cold settling into his chest.

“Shh, darling, please. Tell me how to help you!”

“...I…I love…”

Matias lurched in his arms, and Ander fought to hold his grip. Matias fell still, and Ander felt something in him disappear.

All is dark and blood turns cold.

The loss of a lover’s hand to hold.

The lover’s loss shall leave you dead.