Regis Lucis Caelum CXIII (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
kingkingcxiii) wrote2019-07-10 12:33 am
kingkingcxiii) wrote2019-07-10 12:33 am
Hugtopia Mailbox/Inbox
Gone Fishing
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Firm, encouraging words about his heart's desire and Cor finally has to close his eyes, jaw clenched, the faintest shimmer of dampness clinging to his lashes. He tips his head, gently pulls away from Regis' hand so he can press his forehead against the younger man's chest. It doesn't matter, none of it matters and he knows that. Aulea has held Regis' heart since they were children and there has never been room for any other. No matter how much he had hoped and hated himself for it.
Slowly he shakes his head, breath coming out unsteady even as he clenches his jaw to fight back the emotions he is not prepared to handle. It's all too much on top of the confusing rush of being with Will earlier. He doesn't deserve either one of them but there's so much of him that aches to have someone after all they've lost.
His fingers curl shakily into the front of Regis' robe, breath coming out in a rush, hot and damp and he can't bear to look at his King, his friend, his world.]
But I can't have you.
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[Regis is at a loss, something that doesn't often happen to him. Of course, Cor hardly ever cries either. How is he suppose to react to that? What has he said so wrong when all he has done is encourage him to seek what his heart wishes? He's not sure, but his chest aches to see that dampness on his friend's lashes and he's a heartbeat from wiping it away with his fingers when Cor suddenly presses his head to his chest again.
For a moment, Regis' hand just hangs in the air as he struggles with his own uncertainty. Should he say more? Should he just wait for Cor to speak? How does he...
And then Cor speaks and his words replace one uncertainty with another, one Regis can't completely define before it is buried under an avalanche of feelings. Confusion. Sadness. Happiness. Fear. Understanding. The rush of emotion is so intense that it makes him feel sick and his body begins radiating warmth as it does whenever his emotions are high.
When his hand finally comes to rest on the back of Cor's head, it is shaking with all the emotion he is trying to control; his voice, when he finally speaks is barely there, a tangled emotional whisper.]
Aulea was right then? I don't understand. Why would you when Lucis has demanded so much of you? When my father took so much that wasn't his to take?
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Of course she knew.
[He's not surprised at all. The woman was too brilliant for her own good. But the other questions make his heart ache, realizing how much of his self Regis was already sacrificing to the crown. He'd watched it happen but until Aulea passed he hadn't thought it was really there, not this much. Accepting his place as a tool of prophecy wouldn't come for years yet but... this.
Cor finally has to look up, his hand sliding up from Regis' chest to let his fingers ghost over the other man's cheek.]
What Lucis or your father asked of me are not what you have asked. You have always been my closest friend... and you have only once asked me to do something I would not have happily done regardless.
[They haven't talked about it but it's easy enough to figure out. In the future Regis was dead and Cor wasn't. The only reason for that is that he was not there to lay down his life for his King.
He clenches his eyes shut once more, lashes clinging wetly but stubbornly no tears fall. Cor's hand drops to the bed though, his body tensing, clearly readying to pull away unless Regis does something to keep him near.]
I'm sorry.
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I knew. I knew and so I sent him away.
I knew, and I didn't tell him so that he could live.
It would be far too easy for Regis to lose himself in imaginings of what did and didn't happen that day, but the sudden tension in Cor's body and that soft, almost inaudible apology draw him back to reality with a snap. He knows his friend is about to bolt and things shouldn't end like this. Not with so much still unsettled. Not when each beat of his heart hopes and hurts enough it makes it hard for him to breathe.]
Shh... I don't want to hear that.
[His thumb rests gently against Cor's lips for just a moment before he shifts his hand to finally brush at those damp eyelashes. Uncertainty strikes him once more as he looks down at his friend so ready to lock everything away, perhaps permanently this time. Regis can't allow that, can't allow his friend to kill another part of himself when he has already given so much.
Inaction is broken, not by words but the soft brush of lips against lips. Regis lingers only for a moment before shifting so he can rest their foreheads together.]
My heart is larger than you think and you staked a claim in it long ago.
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What need has a tool of the Crown for love?
The gentle brush against his lashes has him swallowing back a sound that could almost be called a whimper and he starts to turn his head, intending to hide his face in the safety of Regis' hand. Before he can though Regis is doing the unthinkable, lips soft against his own and Cor's heart breaks at the sweetness of that kiss, the words that follow. Things he cannot have and does not deserve.
His breath freezes in his chest for a long moment, one hand sliding up to cradle Regis' face as though he might disappear into Cor's dreams like so many times before. Finally he has to breathe, has to gasp in a desperate breath, has to surrender for one moment to the emotions that he can not hold back any longer. He surges forward, pressing a much harder kiss to Regis' lips. Anguish and love and so many years of desperation poured into one single press of lips, the wetness on his lashes finally falling. One traitorous drop before he can wrench himself away, jerking back as though he'd been burned, scrambling to the edge of the bed to give Regis his back while he sucks in ragged breaths, trying so hard to pull everything back in behind his walls.]
We can't. [And the pain in those two words is enough to make his voice crack.]
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What indeed?
But that is the wrong question, isn't it? The wrong question given credence by teachings they have both followed most of their lives, lessons impressed upon them when they were too young to know the damage those lessons were doing to them; one a child whose father expected royal behavior in everything from one too young to know what that was, and the other a child willing to do anything if it proved to the world he deserved a place in it.
The Crown and their tools? They have no need for love. There is no place for such distraction.
But what of Cor and Regis? What of the man whose heart overflows with loyalty and the need to protect? What of the man whose father warned him his very capacity to love would be the death of him if he didn't stomp it out?
It is true the moment that Cor finally loses the battle with his emotions, Regis' heart stops. It is true the moment his friend's lips crash against his that he is frozen and unable to react, but this is Cor and there is only one other person besides his wife that he trusts as completely as he does this young man, now grown, who was so willing to step into his space and tell him he was wrong.
There is pain in this, but the pain comes in the knowledge of just how long Cor had held all of this inside, of how much it has taken for him to get here and of how quickly he draws away because if he lingers longer, the dream will become a nightmare.
The instant Cor begins to pull away, Regis curses himself for not wrapping his arms around his friend and holding him close, holding close that moment of freedom bought at such a high cost. giving him a better memory to look back on when there is nothing else to keep him going.
Because, for as much as Regis wants to deny it, Cor is right.
Regis takes a deep breath and then pulls himself across the bed so he can settle with his side against Cor, his head coming to rest between his shoulders.]
I won't lie to you and say differently, though I suspect the actual reasons we cannot are much different than you believe them to be.
[He reaches around Cor then, seeking his hands to hold, giving him the embrace he should have before.]
I do not deserve this. It interferes with my duty. What right do I...
[The last statement remains unfinished because Regis can't bring himself to finish it. The fact his friend still holds these low opinions of himself after so long makes him angry, mostly at himself for not doing better by him.]
None of that is true. There is only one reason we can't and it is because Aulea is not here. Were she here so we could discuss it, things would be different, but I cannot and will not betray her trust nor will I presume to know her opinion on such a matter even if she did call me a fool for not seeing what she saw.
[For once, it is not the weight of the Ring of the Lucii that is the most noticeable of the rings he wears, but that of the wedding band on his other hand.]
Forgive me.
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He'd tried so hard to overcome this.
Then this godforsaken city happened and all the old wounds began bleeding again. He wasn't prepared for this, how could he be? More than that he did not have the same fortitude he had in his youth. There was no way his walls could withstand the sheer vibrance of his King so young and full of hope and love and dreams again. The man that had swept him off his feet without even knowing it and here he was meant to pretend it didn't still affect him.
Just when he thought there was at least a chance that he will be able to pull himself together Regis leans into him, wraps arms around him and he has to suck in a breath once more, holding it tight in his chest before it bursts out of him and shatters all the work he's done. At least the mention of Her Majesty is easier to address than the tangled mess that is his own heart.]
I would never- have never- even thought of betraying Her Majesty like that.
[Not even when the betrayal would be of her memory. No matter how much his heart yearned he would never dream of asking such a thing.]
There's nothing to forgive. I- [It's difficult for him to find the words, to make room for logic when so much of him aches so deeply. His voice is raw and breathless, but he is able to stop himself from succumbing to that pain at least.]
I never meant to tell you.
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[Regis' previous words were not an accusation. Instead, they were a line drawn in the sand, so to speak. One he knew they would likely agree on. One they could hold up to the gods of this place as an example of what they would not be forced to do despite what other things they might be forced into. Is that asking for trouble? Perhaps, but he and Cor have faced a lot of trouble together and he is confident in their ability to withstand the worst, even with this new angle revealed.
[When that breathless statement leaves Cor's lips, Regis can't help but raise his head slightly, his own huffed breath likely tickling the back of Cor's neck. He tightens his arms around Cor unconsciously, a attempt to hide the shaking that is suddenly in them--in fact, in his whole body.]
Of course you weren't going to tell me.
[The tremble in his voice is not from anger, but from the force of the pain and sadness that has hit him in the chest like a boot.]
Y-you'd rather bear the pain of your heart being ripped from your chest every day for the rest of your life than even consider doing something that might burden me. Never mind the fact you will never be a burden to me. Never.
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I would not risk doing anything to make the burdens you carry any heavier than they already are. Not when I can remain at your side and help ease their weight.
[Cor's hand comes up to settle over one of Regis', thumb stroking lightly over the back of his King's hand. He lowers his head, looking down even though his back is to Regis.]
That's all I ever wanted... To be ever at your side.
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That's not how standing by my side or anyone else's side works, my lion.
[And here, once more the nickname that started this all slips out unbidden.]
We stand together so that we can share each other's burdens not so that one person carries them all for another. You want me to carry extra burdens no more than I want you to carry them, but to not tell me your burdens so to avoid even the risk of burdening me more? If feels as if the person I am standing next to does not trust me, that they are a stranger. I cannot stand the thought of those who I have let close to me being strangers.
CW: some dissociation
It comes so easily to Regis lips it must be something he's thought or said before, something familiar. The thought makes his heart ache, at once wishing it were so and knowing it cannot be any more than he could ask his King to betray their Queen.
As Regis continues, though, the words slide in like a knife in his heart, sharp and painful. The very idea of, that Cor would not trust him and more the implication that he could not trust Cor is enough to make panic claw at his chest. A fresh wash of fear gripping his heart in an icy grip so real that he doesn't even realize the way the temperature plummets, not unlike the way his heart plummets into his belly.
I cannot stand the thought of those who I have let close to me being strangers.
All he can think of is the realization that the traitor they were searching for was none other than Drautos. A man he'd considered very close to a brother, too young but taken under his Majesty's wing and treated as family. And somehow that bond had twisted into something sick, a poison festering so close to the King himself and not one of them realized it until it was too late.
Standing on the edge of the city, realizing too late that the damage was far greater than they could have imagined. That the airships would not be engaged outside the wall but that the Crystal itself was compromised. The sudden, yawning emptiness when Regis fell and he could feel the magic slipping away that constant connection growing weaker until it snapped like the unraveling of a rope under too much strain.
He couldn't breathe, not now, not then. The hurt was too great for there to be room left for anything else. Not air, not love, not life, not the man he had been or was supposed to be. The hand wrapped around Regis' is cold, that sharp agonizing, isolating cold that is so familiar to both of them. Without Regis --and without his trust could he ever consider himself really having him?-- there was nothing but cold and dark, it had been true with Mors and it was doubly so after he fell and here he was telling Cor that this one thing that he had kept so carefully for so long made him a stranger.
Made him like Drautos.
He doesn't know how long he's been holding his breath, as though if he could keep the air inside he could keep the emotions there too. He's shaking, shivering and dark spots dance across his vision, taking too long to make sense of what he's seeing. A bedroom, dim light and not the ravaged street he'd been on when that bond severed.]
I'm sorry
[His mouth moves but no sound comes out, there are no words that could make the apology enough for that kind of betrayal. He blinks, tears falling from damp lashes, falling in a scalding line across chilled skin. When his breath finally returns it's a harsh ragged sob, one desperate breath and then he's clenching his jaw again, swallowing hard, almost convulsively, fighting his body and his emotions in equal measure.]
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Even if he doesn't know the 'why' of things, Regis can see and feel the signs that something has gone horribly wrong in Cor's head. The chill that washes over the room is familiar enough that he is gritting his teeth before he even knows it, fighting not to look over his shoulder for the specter that still haunts them both, but cannot actually be there. He doesn't even need to reach for his magic, it rises without being called, countering chill with heat. The warmth rolls off him in waves, but alone it is not enough. Regis knows wherever Cor's mind has taken him will need more than the warmth to lead him back, so he slides off the bed, careful not to let go of Cor's hand until he is standing in front of him. The broken, lost expression that meets his eyes shatters his heart so much that his knees threaten to buckle, leading him to kneeling in front of Cor instead of standing. He reaches out with both hands then, cradling his friend's head in them, gently angling his face so he can meet his eyes.]
Cor, breathe. You're safe here. Come back to me. Come back and grieve. You've done nothing wrong.
[His fingers brush gently at the tears that have fallen to Cor's face. There is so much he's kept to himself. Only a fraction of that is something Regis can guess at, and now Cor is literally crumbling under the pressure. Why? Why won't he just let someone help him?]
Please. Let me carry you for once. Rest calm and heal. I will not let you fall.
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He's so convinced of that fact that it takes him too long to fully register that Regis has not left, that he's here in front of him, kneeling and touching him, voice soothing but commanding all at once. It's so much more than he'd have thought his King would give him, more than he deserves, more than he can endure.
Regis commands that he breathe and he does, the dam breaking and letting his emotions flood out in a way he has not allowed since he was a much younger man, a boy really. The first sob bursts from him like a punch in the gut and then he's fumbling his way forward, collapsing off the bed into a heap, half in Regis' lap. He wraps his arms around the other man, clutches to his robe and sobs into his shoulder, body-wracking sobs that tear out of his chest and ravage his throat.]
I don't... know what to do without you.
[The words are thick with tears and emotion, ragged and desperate. Here there's no army to run, no Prince to guide, no People to save and without those driving goals there's nothing he can do to fight back the agony of loss and betrayal. And to have Regis judge him so harshly for doing his best to protect him, not from any outside threat but from himself is more than he can bear.]
I'm sorry. I'll make it stop just-
[Another wracking sob, hard enough to make him choke for a moment, unable to bring in enough air.]
Let me stay.
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Regis holds Cor as tightly as he dares, one hand eventually moving upward to cradle the back of his head, fingers gently massaging his scalp. How does he begin to assuage these fears when all his limited knowledge has done so far is make things worse? Regis generally doesn't let himself look back once his makes his decisions, dealing with the consequences as they come but not doubting his original choice. He can't. Too many depend on his leadership for him to allow himself to look unsure even if that is exactly what he is.
Much like his country, right now Cor needs a pillar, not a confused man. However, Regis refuses to go to the extremes his father did. Never again will that icy steel immobility wound Cor's battered soul.
Regis bows his head, mouth near Cor's ear, words commanding, but also gentle in a way his father's never would have been.]
You will do no such thing, my love. You have already killed far too much of your heart and soul for the crown. You will love and you will cherish with all of your heart, do you understand me? Share your love with whoever you deem fit as often as you wish. How can I expect you to stop what I, myself, cannot?
[He raises his head again, pressing a gentle kiss to Cor's temple. Mors may have tried to drill into him over and over that his bleeding heart would be his undoing, but the lesson is one Regis never did and never will learn. The flame of love and compassion burns far too deeply within him.]
You will always have a place at my side, so do not fear my loss. I will always be with you, watching over you even when you cannot see me. So long as you walk at my side or my child's, I will be there.
[As one of the Lucii, his presence will be much different, but he will still be there.]
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It's enough to bring a fresh wave of sobs. Every time he thinks he might be able to catch his breath, to pull himself together, control slips through his fingers.
Eventually the tears run dry, though. Not because the pain is lessened but because his body has nothing left to spare, emotional exhaustion eventually being matched by physical as well. Still he clings to his King, breathing in soft little hiccups, his eyes burning, his limbs heavy as lead.]
I love you...
[The words that have been held carefully behind his teeth for decades now, finally free. Weak and hesitant as they are they are no less true.]
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Or he will insist, depending on whose point in time one is viewing things from.
Eventually, Cor starts to calm. Regis is certain it is merely exhaustion. After all, these are not the kind of emotions that can be worked through in one conversation. It will take several, especially considering how long these particular emotions have been hidden before now.]
I know, and I you no matter what difficulties fate throws in our way.
[He raises his head, placing a gentle kiss against Cor's damp cheek, fingers soothingly rubbing at the back of his head.]
Trust your love with me and rest now. You have earned it.
[Hopefully, they can speak more on this later. There is a risk Cor will just pack it all away again, but it is a risk Regis is going to take. Cor has given enough for one night.]
I will stand guard over your dreams and keep your nightmares at bay. This I swear.
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If he weren't so exhausted he'd pull himself together, drag all his foolish emotions back behind walls and insist that he would not impose upon his friend. Shutter it all away once more, clean his face, and become the Marshal once again.
But he is exhausted, mentally and emotionally spent in a way he has not been in more years than he can count. As much as he fears his feelings will be a burden on his King he also cannot help but feel a little lighter now those words have finally been spoken, his heart unburdened of secrets and shackles.
Regis kisses his cheek and he leans into it helpless to resist the affection, the slide of fingers over the short strands of his hair soothing in a way he'd never felt, the warmth of his King's arms around him quieting the fleeting thought of protest. He's so exhausted, in fact, that it's only with a considerable effort from his King that he even ends up falling into bed, half asleep in his arms before Regis even gets him settled. Fully dressed and too tired to care about getting under the damn blanket.
As long as he has his love to keep him warm that's all he needs.]