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carebearcurse · 6 months ago

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The dead king watched as the culmination of his life's work spun together before his eyes. He felt a strange weight on his heart, like a great expectation has not been met. And he was disappointed, like a child finding out some saintly creature did not in fact leave presents for him on the morning of a holiday.

He had helped the newly awoken Ultima tear the wrapping off his gift and watched him run it through in just a few moments time. Clive laid out, eyes glazed over with some gripping spell.

It was Ultima, trying to gain a toehold. His arms crossed in front of his chest and he shuddered like he was ill.

Joshua could care less about the threat around or within him. Here in the Rift, his sole anchor needed his help. If Clive couldn't snap out of it, they were never getting out of here alive. Some part inside of himself had resigned itself to that fact especially now after Ultima's shard had cracked open his mind and invaded it. Like a fugue illness, reality had fallen away and everything passed as though through thick water to reach him. He remembered shoving Clive down. Then he remembered shoving something inside him.

Joshua's revulsion at his own body was offset by the hair-raising truth that taking Clive down had felt fantastic.

He did not need to shake Clive awake, Clive's eyes were open, and looking at him, and lo they swam with that same clear blue. Joshua couldn't help himself, spurting. "Clive! It's you, thank the Gods. We've got to get out of here."

The only Riftwalker now present was the Dominant of Darkness, who currently stood resurrected a few feet away beside a silvery slip of a fellow. "Yes, thank God." Barnabas butted in without any invocation, turning the situation back to himself. "If either of you two charges of my God want to go anywhere, it will be within the service of myself."

"And what, precisely, does that mean?" Joshua had always had the more noble streak in him, and it gave him the right to his haughty tone.

"You can't leave this abyss without a guide. You need me to open the door." Barnabas's hands slowly mimed making an opening and peering through the space at him and Joshua flushed a deep red.

The reality of Clive's moans rose fresh in his mind, his belly stirred in squeamish schoolboy guilt and desire. Barnabas's sudden twinge of a smirk let him know he had been read.

"Take us, then. Take us out of here." The Phoenix's voice was a little smaller, more guarded. Barbs loaded on his tongue died when he realized he needed the warlord to comply. Then, the idea that something terrible had transpired that had not yet crystallized gripped him.

If Ultima had intended to possess Clive by force, why was Clive huddled against him for warmth and safety now? Joshua extended an arm instinctly around Clive pulling him close. He used his hand to lightly turn those bright blue eyes back to his own.

The scruffiness. The scars.

Still Clive. Deeply shaken, but Clive.

Joshua almost gave in to the impulse to kiss those lips. He started to lean closer, before going rigid. He was looking at Clive's mouth while Clive stared at him with open bemusement.

They had crossed a line and could not put that back in the box now.

Barnabas felt left out, for he interjected his own will. "Now, now. There will be enough time to get to know eachother on the skin of this world, rather than in the bowels of its ethos."

He opened a Rift. It lead not to the Hideaway. Nor to Barnabas's hold. It lead to somewhere with a hearth bedecked with volcanic stone and comfortable looking love seats stacked with plush pillows. This was some sort of getaway. The warm firery regalia did not match the cold filagre of Ash, nor did it match the holy pastels of Sanbreque. Were they in Rosaria somewhere?

Sleipnir, discarded to the fringe of the group, came floatingly alive as the glassy mirror of the abyssal island became a rug laden, organic hearthstoned floor beneath their feet. He moved to ensure the room was as ordained by his liege.

Wine on the table. Fire stoked firmly with warm crackling wood. Piles of furs and blankets on chaises, pillows on loveseats or the floor.

Joshua was faintly relieved they did not reappear in the middle of a dinner at the Hideaway. He was tainted with sin now. Darkly it occurred to him that his own best case scenario was that he had scrubbed Ultima off himself and directly into his brother, like pouring hot poison down Clive's open trusting throat. Joshua, deep down, now feared his own loss of humanity to Ultima.

The Rift sealed away in a dance of blue, orange and black flames.

Barnabas sucked in a deep breath. He may have been a deep sea abomination now more Abyssal than human, but he still craved the heat of the human world. He still craved its comforts and delights. He stretched, bones popping in his aching new body. The weight of duty had not yet lifted from him. He felt it weighing on his liver perched like a gargoyle.

He moved forward, assertively pushing Joshua aside to extend a hand. He had wanted to touch Clive since he had seen Ultima sink Joshua's teeth into his neck. But he paused, fingers hovering above Clive's belly, as he smiled. "May I?"

"Fuck you." Clive managed to get out in hot stuttering anger as he recoiled. He stumbled backwards onto a plush seat. One naked knee drew up to his chest and he regarded his supposed captor with baleful hate. "Never touch me again."

"As you will." Was the low toned return, with no hint of a threat. Barnabas was not his usual self. This was weird. "Sleipnir will-"

"Neither of you!" Clive took the inch of strange freedom and pushed. It was not anger in his voice as it was, sorely panicked. Like a caged animal set free into an open field, disoriented. "Leave me fucking be."

Sleipnir had acquired a warm furred blanket with golden fringe. They held it out to Joshua, shaking it loose. Absolutely wordless, and face carefully composed into servile cat-like aloofness. If they felt something, they did not want to show it.

Joshua felt the fur fall into his arms, and without thinking he turned to spread it over Clive, wanting to smother his naked form from memory. The feel of it, the taste of it, the way it had shuddered harmoniously around his--

His hand traced down as he unconsciously tucked it around Clive's shoulder.

Joshua had to force himself to lift his touch from Clive. He needed to clear his mind, but he was caught in an eddy in his own skull, swirling around. He needed water, his eyes searched the table but only saw wine. Blood dark and sweet as it was bitter.

Wrapped in fur by Joshua himself, Clive felt a heaviness pushing down on him. Trust was a mist that clouded his judgement.

He felt a little nauseous. The smell of wine worsened it. Clive wrinkled his nose. He caught Barnabas smiling at him, his eyes flitted to meet Barnabas's, wide in remembrance of being violated repeatedly.

It all felt so distant, but it was all happening again. It horrified him. And left him with rhe lingering question: why was he letting it happen? Why wasn't he resisting?

His arms throbbed with the pain of being by struck repeatedly by Odin. His legs felt numb below the knees, but there was a warm chafed feeling stirred around inside his belly. Sleipnir pressed a warm mug of something hot into his hand. He took a sip without thinking. Warm cider, sweet and spiced.

Sleipnir knew how to tend to all manner of ills and woes. Now that Clive was comfortable with their draught, they cast half a glance over Joshua to assure they were whole before moving to tend to their resurrected king.

Barnabas let himself sink into an overstuffed chair, lounging as his belt strapped legs sprawled. There was a loud pop in his hips, and the undead man sighed. Being a spectre had been like being a genie trapped in a bottle he wanted to smash with his cock. Being alive again meant duty, meant work.

To the surprise of his supposed captive audience, he closed his murky eyes. His dark brow unfurrowed. Sleipnir's slight fingers came to orbit his temples, before dropping to grip his shoulders. They did not tire as their master did.

"Cid," Barnabas spoke, "you can leave if you want. We are within the borders of the Duchy of Rosaria now. You could easily make your way to anywhere you want from here."

"But know this, you carry with you something that you cannot remove. Same as your brother." Sleipnir's hands slid down his front, smoothing his shirt away from his collar, Barnabas's chest heaved upwards as he inhaled deeply. "And it would be more fortuitous for those who look to you for protection if you did not go home to slaughter them all."

When Sleipnir's hands went to his belted trousers, Barnabas shifted away from them. He did not want to be disrobed. That risked upsetting the fragile Cid out of their pliant state, who was bundled into safety in their seat.

The Lord Commander did not know what to do with themselves. "Can I get anyone anything? A drink, some food perhaps..."

Joshua's mouth tightened. Eating seemed like a faraway act, but it made sense. There was good reason to believe Barnabas had the firm upper hand here, and it was hard to believe they were not his prisoners. "And what if we wanted to leave?"

"And? What if you did?" Barnabas's voice was not a retort, it ended on an exploratory note. "Our business was finished ages ago, we are living in those circumstances now rendered in ink and blood. What remains to be seen is the results of an experiment you two performed," Barnabas spread his digits, interlacing them until the webbing between his pointer and his middle finger touched, "on behalf of our God."

Joshua parsed what he could. Clive was just dumbfounded.

But the Phoenix had garnered a critical thought. He folded his arms. He missed his gloves. What happened to them? Oh right. He took them off right before he touched soft skin, then penetrated it. "Is this thing you call your God inside Clive now? Waiting to show itself at some petty theatrical moment?"

If Joshua was guilty he turned it into indignation. "What kind of a God forces brother unto brother in-in such a depraved way?"

"Why did he make you two fuck?" Sleipnir asked rhetorically, turning a little so that their shorn hair and braid was tossed. "Are you sure that was Him? And not just ... you?"

The brooding Akashic king twitched at that. He could have shot lead from his eyes at his steed, most certainly wishing to retroactively geld the upstart of a pony.

"Not all gifts from God have meaning to us at first, like you, Habard." Barnabas Tharmr whispered, tilting his head back to gaze into the eyes of his lance. The stillness of Sleipnir looming over the king could have been mistaken for being hurt. Like a shade cast over unsuspecting prey, Sleipnir was poised.

They could have slit their zombie partner's throat with a single finger. They considered it for a minutia. Then they gently brushed the back of their knuckles over the warlord's rough stubble. He needed a shave. "My liege... Would you ever love me half as much as you love this idea of your God?"

They almost said it. But instead they bit down on it like it was a tiny escaping bird and smiled. "Yes, ... my liege."

They were all running on fumes. Patience was as thin as late summer ice.

"Be a good horse. Stoke the fire." Cozy Barnabas was a mood. "Show them to a room. Or two. If they so desperately need to be separated, to process themselves then facilitate that necessity. We might as well all be comfortable."

Sleipnir lead the human-fur burrito and the heir duke to a room. It had a four post bed, clean sheets, its own murmuring fire, even a vanity with an aged burnished mirror. "This could be your room, or yours." The cavalry offered to the brothers. "The next room is down at the end of the hall, past a flight of stairs, just a few doors away."

The idea of being separated or going home together right now caused a hitch in Clive's throat as he uttered, "I... I.."

He didnt want to say it. He was fraid of being alone. He was afraid, of being anywhere.

Even if Joshua's body had been weaponized like a bright sword, Clive wanted him close.

Joshua was a half step behind his brother veiled in thick fur, thinking about stabbing Sleipnir in the face and fleeing with Clive. They would run home to the Hideaway. To Jill. To Jote.

They would drag them into this. Ultima would sprout from one of them like a noxious weed. And destroy everything they both loved.

There was a chair.

"Clive, you should get some rest." Joshua moved to sit in the chair, as though to reassure himself his intentions were pure. "And I will keep watch."

With that, Sleipnir turned to go. No encouragement from him to separate the two brothers. They paused by the door, graceful hand going to smooth down the wood there, studying its knots snd whorls. "If either of you need anything... Just call for me."

They watched as Clive's body sank gratefully onto the bed. They watched their quarry utter an exhausted groan that half turned into a snore immediately. Sleipnir smiled at the seated Joshua, half knowingly. "Good luck." The steed said quietly, before exiting.

Joshua felt chilled inside his breast where that wound still gouged him. He put a hand to feel it, a frown tugging his usually secretive face down but his eyes traced the curved form of Clive in the dancing firelight.

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