I'll Taste Your Name Like Blood, Vol 3

"You can't turn from this," he says, ignoring the blade pointed at his throat. His hands, slick with mud, reach out to grip the blade as if he can shake some sense into its wielder.

"I won't let you. If you run, I'll follow. If you hide, I'll find you. Nothing will keep me from your side, Mudeel." His sworn brother scoffs, though it sounds half like a laugh, and half like a sob. After all they've been through, after every battle, was it not Sadan by his side? Comforting him even when his wife could not, a steady presence in the darkness? Of course he should not expect different now, at the end of all things. Stupid, kind, naive Sadun. He knows now, as he's denied for the past decade of war, that he loves this foolish man.

"This time, Sadun, you cannot follow." The words nearly break both their hearts, but Mudeel continues. His nails dig into his own palm, if only to stop him from twisting the blade. Despite it all, he's never wished his best friend gone. Even after all he took from him. All they took from each other.

Sadun lurches forward, ignoring the sword's threat. Mudeel swears, pulling the blade away at the last moment and letting it clatter to the dirt at their feet. The look on Sadun's face is smug, the same one he makes when they spar and he pulls off a particularly tricky maneuver. Even after all this, he can't believe Mudeel will truly hurt him. "You were saying?" Sadun murmurs against the side of his head, gathering him in his arms. Mudeel tenses- more to keep himself from melting into the touch. From collapsing under the weight of it all and hiding in Sadun's arms like he once did.

"We can figure this out. Together." Sadun's hands, rough and calloused from a life of protecting the king before him, running over his back in soothing circles. It's almost enough. Almost too much, in fact, the touch consuming him like Phoenixfire. He shoves him away roughly, panting with the effort. Sadun's always been bigger, after all.

"I'm trying to save your life, you fool!" Mudeel snaps, eyes wide with fear. Fear, and longing, and aching desire. "You can save it by stopping this nonsense. Come with me." Sadun's hand slides down Mudeel's arm, holding him. Waiting, expectantly. Foolishly, maybe, for an answer Mudeel can't give him.

He wants to say yes. He's never wanted anything more in his life. But he can hear the Oracle's words in his mind, a warning and a curse spoken in the dead of night, and he knows.

Even if they can never be together, he'd rather the man before him be alive to hate him, than dead and locked away in his memories next to his wife. "Alright," he says, swallowing hard. Dropping his gaze to the rainwater gathering by their feet. "Alright?" Sadun repeats, his lips twitching. Mudeel won't look, won't dare to see the hope in his eyes.

"Alright," Mudeel says again, gathering Sadun into his arms. Wrapping his arms tight around his sworn brother. Sadun doesn't even feel it, when he sends a jolt of Flow through his veins, wishing him into unconsciousness.

His sworn brother collapses to the ground, face slack, mouth still twisted in a smile. Mudeel steps away, clears his throat, and calls out to one of his soldiers. "Take him back across the border. The rest of you, prepare to march!" He has a war to win, after all.