The light was soft, veiled by the fabric of the tent, but at first it felt distant-filtered through an inner fog. Victor surfaced slowly, his breath rasping against the silence. His head throbbed in irregular pulses, each beat echoing through his jaw. He tried to open his eyes-or at least, he thought he did.
The right eye gave way, heavy but obedient, and a blurred fragment of the world came into view: a beige canvas ceiling swaying gently with the wind, a bent silhouette beside him-fuzzy, familiar.
But to the left-nothing. No shadow, no light, not even the comfort of darkness. Just... absence. As if that side of him no longer existed.
His heart quickened. He tried to turn his head, but a strangled groan escaped him, and pain erupted-liquid fire in his temple, his brow, his socket.
"Shh... easy now," came a gentle voice.
Emma.
He felt a cool cloth against his forehead, then a hand brushing lightly through his sweat-soaked hair. He closed his good eye, then opened it again. Emma was there. Leaning over him, her features drawn with worry and fatigue-but present, whole, and real.
He tried to speak, but his throat was dry. Emma understood before he could even try.
She took a small bowl and brought it to his lips. "Drink a little. Just a few sips."
The tepid water slid over his tongue, offering only the faintest relief. He felt her helping him lift his head, her fingers trembling slightly against his neck. When he let it fall back, it was like sinking into a cushion of stones.
He exhaled, hoarse. "My eye..."
Emma stilled, almost imperceptibly-but he felt it. He opened his right eye and searched for hers. He managed to lift a weak hand toward her, and she took it instantly.
Her palm was warm, alive, and the touch tethered him slightly to the world.
"Did you... see it?" he asked, his voice rough, broken.
She didn't answer right away. He felt her hesitation, the breath she drew softly, as if weighing every word.
"I was there... when Adam stitched you up."
She lifted her eyes to meet his, still holding his hand.
"But it was confusing-there was so much blood. I could barely see anything clearly. I was looking at you more than... at the wound. I was afraid you'd slip away."
She tightened her grip on his fingers, just slightly.
A silence settled. Somewhere outside, a blackbird sang, indifferent to human wounds.
Victor gave a faint nod. His stomach clenched from the emotion, though his face stayed calm. He breathed slowly, eyelids closed, then reopened his eye.
"So... you know." His voice quivered slightly. Not with shame, but a quiet, modest unease. "You know what's under the bandage."
Emma didn't answer. She just pressed his hand against her cheek, her gaze steady.
He murmured, "I'd like Adam to change the dressing."
Emma looked up at him slowly. He didn't look away. "Not because I blame you. Not because I'm ashamed."
He drew a painful breath, then went on, a thread of weariness caught in his voice. "I'm just not ready for you to see it. Not yet. It's... too much."
She nodded slowly. He felt that she understood. She didn't argue, didn't tell him it didn't matter, or that he was still the same. She simply accepted it. And that was exactly what he needed.
"All right," she said, her voice barely a whisper.
She leaned forward and pressed a kiss to his fevered brow, just above the arch of his eyebrow. Her lips were cool, soft, and for a heartbeat, Victor closed his eye, soothed.
She drew back only slightly, still watching him, her heart heavy.
"Sleep. I'm here."
He let himself drift without resistance, his hand still curled in hers. The fever still pulsed within him, but more gently now-as if Emma's breath had driven the shadows back for a while.
In his dreams, he walked across a windless moor, eyes closed, guided by a warm hand he never let go.
---
When Victor woke on the second day, it wasn't a nightmare that pulled him back to himself, but the scent of warm leather and ash-and a familiar shadow, still and seated nearby.
It took him a few seconds to surface. Sleep had left the taste of dust on his tongue. His head still throbbed, but less violently now, as if the pain had curled in on itself like a slumbering beast, lurking behind his bandaged eye.
He tried to sit up. A groan escaped him before he could catch it.
At once, a steady but careful hand landed on his shoulder.
"Easy now. You'll keel over, clever boy."
Victor blinked his one good eye. He turned his head slowly toward the voice. Adam was there. Squatting beside him, elbows on his knees, face drawn, unshaven. He looked older like that. He wore a dark wool shirt, sleeves rolled to the forearms, stained in places with dried blood. Not his own.
His gaze was fixed on Victor. Contained warmth. An old worry that refused to burn out.
"You look like hell," Victor murmured, a faint smile tugging at his lips. "But I'm guessing you didn't get much sleep."
Adam didn't answer right away. He exhaled through his nose, the kind of breath that hides a curse.
"Neither did you, by the looks of it." He slipped an arm behind Victor's shoulders to help him sit up. "Careful-it'll pull."
Victor obeyed. Every movement stretched him like damp cloth on the line. He panted a little but stayed upright. The world still tilted around him, his balance reinvented around a blind spot to the left.
He waited for the dizziness to pass, then looked up at Adam. "Emma?"
"I sent her to eat," Adam replied, settling down beside him. "She didn't want to go. I had to promise I wouldn't leave you alone."
Victor nodded slowly. The air smelled of fire and wet bark. Outside, someone was singing softly, further away. A morning almost like any other.
Adam ran a hand along the back of his neck, visibly out of words.
"You scared the hell out of us." His voice had softened, but it still hummed with residual anger. Not at Victor. At the world.
Victor let his head fall back against the canvas. His good eye stared straight ahead, thoughtful.
"I don't remember everything. Just... the hands. A grip in my hair. Someone said it would serve as a reminder." He turned his head toward Adam, slowly. "For Edric."
Adam frowned.
Victor went on, his voice low: "They were after him. Not me."
Silence thickened in the tent.
Adam looked away, staring at a vague point in the fabric.
"There were several of them," Victor continued. "Too many. We were coming back from the market. Never saw it coming. But they didn't strike me at once. They... provoked him. It was a setup."
He ran his hand over his left cheek, brushing the edge of the bandage without thinking. Then, more quietly: "They wanted to hurt him. But not directly. It was calculated."
Adam said nothing. His face had closed in, features hardened like he'd just taken an invisible blow. But Victor saw the shift in his shoulders. Less rage. More doubt.
"They were the same bastards from the forest. I recognized the way they talked."
Victor drew in a slow breath and added, without forcing: "It's not his fault, Adam. He did everything he could to protect me. Is he okay?"
The silence returned-heavy, lasting. Then Adam rubbed his face, thumb and forefinger over his eyes. When he finally spoke, his voice was hoarse.
"I yelled at him."
Victor looked at him.
Adam shook his head. "He'd just come back. You were still bleeding. Half-dead in my arms. And he... he had that look. Empty."
Victor listened quietly, gaze steady.
"I told him he let it happen. That he didn't protect you."
A pause. Adam cursed under his breath. "God, I'm an idiot."
Victor simply replied, "No. You were worried."
Adam lifted his eyes, caught off guard by the quiet maturity in his voice.
Victor went on, a tired little smile on his lips: "You did what I would've done in your place. Just... this time, we both would've been wrong."
Adam exhaled and leaned toward the basin of clear water set beside them. He took a clean cloth, twisted it slowly between his hands, as if stalling.
"You've got every right to be angry, you know."
Victor shook his head, gently. "I'm not. I was scared. I'm in pain. That's all."
He turned toward him, his good eye glinting faintly. "He didn't let me down."
Adam stopped moving. The cloth dripped slowly between his fingers.
Then he placed a hand on Victor's shoulder. Firm. Warm.
"You're tough, ki-" He corrected himself, a half-smile forming. "Sorry. You're tough, Victor."
Victor let out a soft laugh-more a shadow of one, really.
Adam added, brushing a damp lock of hair from his forehead: "But I swear, if you pull something like that again, I'll take your other eye myself."
Victor smiled for real this time. And as Adam handed him the canteen, he muttered under his breath:
"And I haven't planned on having a blind little brother yet."
Victor looked up at him, surprised. He didn't say anything, but something shifted in his face. He gripped the canteen a little tighter than necessary.
Adam noticed, but didn't comment. He stood, wiped his palms on his trousers, and said:
"I'll tell Emma you're awake."
Victor watched him disappear through the flap of the tent, and remained alone for a moment with the hush of the wind. The light was brighter today. Sharper. His world had changed. But he was still standing. Thanks to them.
---
Adam pushed aside the tent flap with a brief gesture and stepped out into the crisp late-morning air. The camp murmured quietly around him-voices near the fire, the rasp of metal being sharpened, an old woman humming beside the washing.
Emma was there, sitting on a stone just a few paces away, a steaming bowl cupped in her hands. Her head lifted at once. Her hair was hastily tied back at the nape of her neck. Her eyes, shadowed and tired, searched Adam's face at once for an answer.
She didn't need words to know.
Still, he gave them to her, softening his voice. "Your man's awake. Seems to be in decent shape-judging by the idiotic jokes."
A fleeting smile touched her lips, but mostly it was a long, deep breath of relief that left her-shaky, almost soundless.
She set the bowl down without taking a sip. "Thank you."
Adam nodded simply and turned away.
She slipped into the tent without a sound, and Adam made his way slowly back toward the tall trees at the edge of the camp, where he knew Edric had gone to be alone. He didn't rush-his boots brushing against wet stones, hands in his coat pockets, his heart heavier than he cared to admit.
He found him sitting on a fallen log, a little below the slope, shoulders slouched forward, eyes fixed on a still point in the moss. He wasn't doing anything. Just... waiting. Or hiding.
"Hey."
Edric turned his head slightly. His jaw was rough with a fuller beard than usual, his eyes ringed and weary. He didn't speak but gave a small nod.
Adam stepped closer and sat beside him with a sigh. They sat for a while without speaking, sharing a silence that wasn't exactly peaceful, but more bearable than the silence from before.
"He's awake," Adam said at last.
Edric finally lifted his eyes to him.
Adam added, quieter this time, "Asked how you were."
A beat passed. Edric nodded slowly, but his gaze drifted off again. He looked like a man who didn't know if he was allowed to breathe easier yet.
"He remembers, you know. The ambush. He figured out they were aiming for you." Adam shook his head. "Doesn't blame you. Not for a second."
A thicker silence settled between them. Edric's hands were clasped in front of him, knuckles pale, like every word was a stone he had to swallow.
"I should've-"
"Don't." Adam's voice cut through his, quiet but firm. "It's my turn."
Edric looked at him, caught off guard.
Adam exhaled slowly, searching for words. He spoke haltingly, like pulling a nail out with bare hands.
He ran a hand over his face, shook his head. "I saw red. And there you were, covered in blood too, hands shaking, looking... hollow. I thought you'd let it happen."
He paused, then continued. "But I was wrong. I knew it the second I saw his fingers cling to yours while you carried him. He was reaching for you. Even unconscious. When I saw his face, his eye... I got scared. Scared I'd lose him the way I lost Robin."
He fell silent. Edric lowered his eyes, like he hadn't dared touch that pain until now.
Then he spoke, softly.
"I saw myself coming back empty-handed. Like on other campaigns. I've carried too many of our own, Adam." His voice barely wavered. "But this time it was Victor. A kid I'd trained. A kid I liked."
Edric looked down, lashes trembling.
Adam sniffed, rubbed the back of his neck.
"I wanted to say sorry. I shouldn't've shouted at you. You were in shock. So was I. But... yeah. I know you. I know you wouldn't have let that happen if you'd had any say in it."
He finally turned his gaze toward him.
Edric didn't answer right away. He swallowed, slowly.
The silence stretched.
Then Adam laid a hand on his shoulder. A simple gesture, but it held weight.
"No hard feelings," he said.
Edric looked up at him, surprised. But Adam held his gaze, steady, sincere.
"You know how to fight, Ed. But you're not invincible, and you're not supposed to be. You've got to understand that too."
The other man gave a faint, weary smile. "I'm trying."
They sat there a while longer, side by side, the wind stirring gently through the branches above.
The cold still slipped between the trunks, but it no longer bit quite as deep. Something had eased. Something had held.
They stood together, without another word. And began to walk slowly toward the fire.
Two brothers in arms. Worn down, scarred-but still standing.