Team of Two

22nd day of the 6th moon, 1162 HC

Mulsae and Damion shift their gazes from the door to each other. Their faces crumple. In perfect sync, they close the distance between them and crash into a desperate embrace. No words. Just the quiet shudder of sobs against each other's shoulders. They sink to the floor still clinging tightly, as if gravity itself is too much to bear alone.

For a long time, they do nothing but breathe. Damion's fingers grip the back of Mulsae's shirt like a lifeline. Mulsae doesn't let go. He buries his face in Damion's neck, inhales, and it's the first breath that doesn't feel like drowning.

Hanna is gone.

The thought doesn't feel real. Not yet. Not with the warmth of another body still wrapped around him. But it's there, lodged beneath his ribs like glass. And still, they stay. Clinging to the only thing left that hasn't been taken.

We told her we'd protect her. The thought lodges between them, heavy and sharp, though neither speaks it aloud. They feel it all the same. In the trembling arms, the stuttering breaths, the way their hands clutch tighter as if trying to hold back the truth. She trusted them. She chose them. And now she is gone.

Mulsae presses his forehead to Damion's collarbone. Damion's fingers knot in Mulsae's shirt. The room is silent, but for the guilt echoing between their ribs.

Then Mulsae breaks. A sound tears out of him, low and strangled, not even a word. He gasps like he's drowning. Tries to pull breath into lungs that don't want to work. His body curls forward, fingers digging into Damion's back as if trying to hold on to anything real.

"She was practically a child," he chokes. "She trusted us."

Damion shakes his head over and over, as if denial could undo it. "I thought we could save her." His voice cracks into pieces. "I really thought..."

Mulsae lets out a ragged scream. It echoes off the stone walls like an animal in pain. "We should have! We had her right here. We had her..." His fists pound once, weakly, against the floor. Then again. Then he just sags.

They both fall silent again. Except for the breathing. The gasps. The failed attempts to hold it together. Mulsae's face is buried in Damion's shoulder. Damion's knuckles are white in Mulsae's shirt. There's snot. Tears. Heaving lungs. Nothing beautiful about it.

And underneath it all, the truth they don't dare name: She's dead, and we're not. And we don't know how to live with that.

They've long since melted onto their sides, drifting in and out of tear-soaked consciousness. Damion eventually peels himself away and grabs the fire poker. He crouches before the fire. Pokes the coals once. Twice. Then swallows. "Hello..." His voice cracks. He clears his throat and tries again. "Hello, fire. It's back to me tending you now." Tears stream down his cheeks and flood his mouth. His next words come out wet and trembling. "She told me I should talk to you." He swallows again, blinking hard. "So... I'm talking."

Behind him, Mulsae thought he'd cried himself dry. But new tears form. Quiet and slow, they roll over his temples as he lies curled on his side.

Mulsae pulls himself off the floor and stumbles into the bathing chamber. He shucks clothes left and right as he approaches the tub. He sinks to his knees and turns on the water, letting a hand hang in the stream as he waits for it to heat up. She danced in the tub. He's grown too numb to emote any more.

He feels his hand burning and slowly draws it out of the water and looks at it like it's a foreign entity. He sees his skin is red. He feels the burn. But it doesn't seem real.

He lowers the temperature of the water, stoppers the drain, and sits in the tub. The scalding water tingles along his skin. He leans back and remembers Hanna massaging his scalp after nights with Zudaeshi. She was so sweet, and so gentle, and I failed her.

Damion comes in and quickly turns off the water. The tub was overflowing, Mulsae didn't even realize. Damion lowers himself to the floor and drifts a hand through the water. "I zoned out gazing at the fire. Just remembering the things she said to it."

"I was thinking how gentle and caring she was," Mulsae murmurs. Damion just nods slowly. Mulsae looks around the room then at Damion. "She filled this place. Every inch of it was soaked in her light."

Damion flicks some water and smirks, "Makes you realize how boring we are." He leans his head on the rim of the tub and swirls the water lazily. The spout still drips and echoes in the silent room. Mulsae watches the ripples in the water form and fade. His breathing in and out. A life drifted across his own... and then snuffed out.

The water grows tepid. He soaps up, rinses off, then towels dry. He wordlessly goes back to the bed chamber and crawls into the middle of the bed, his hand on Hanna's side.

Minutes, hours, or days later, Damion's wet skin presses into Mulsae's back as he curls around him. One arm drapes across Mulsae's, both of them resting where Hanna used to lie.

"It's back to only the two of us," Mulsae whispers.

"Team of two," Damion murmurs.

Team of two, Mulsae thinks. For decades, we were whole like this. But today... it feels empty. And small.

=*=

Mulsae and Damion both flinch when the door suddenly opens. "The Harmonarch has summoned you." They openly groan and drag themselves from the bed. They're naked in front of the escort, but they don't care. Not tonight.

Mulsae doesn't have the energy for this shit tonight. He snags two pairs of pants and tosses one to Damion. He pulls his on and throws a plain robe over his shoulders. He grabs the arm restraints and buckles Damion's arms behind him.

They drag their weary forms through the hallways and into Zudaeshi's suite. She's already there, lounging on the couch, draped in silks, a goblet of wine in hand. She looks over to them and says with a pout, "Damion, come," and pats her thigh.

Damion approaches and starts to kneel, but she redirects him with a tap on the couch instead. "Up here." He gingerly lowers himself to the couch and she pulls on his shoulder to have him lay down with his head on her thigh. She runs her talon-like nails through his hair.

"Refill my wine, Mulsae, and pour yourself some mistburn." He wordlessly obeys. He takes a deep shot of mistburn, then another. His hand tightens on the cup, but he doesn't let it shake. He brings her goblet back and watches her talons glide through Damion's hair. His jaw tightens. He takes another sip of mistburn to keep from breaking the glass then settles into the chair next to the couch.

Zudaeshi watches the flames in the sunken hearth a moment, then speaks, tone clipped. "Malric. I trust you're ensuring he doesn't kill another person he's supposed to be torturing again."

"Yes, Your Radiance," Mulsae says evenly. She doesn't ask for clarification. He doesn't offer it.

"But Malric isn't why I summoned you." She lifts her wine to her lips. "I've decided I am done waiting for Garrick." Mulsae stiffens. Damion tenses beside her. She sips. "The man won't beg. He won't bend. But you can break him for me." Her eyes meet Mulsae's. "I don't want mere obedience. I want adoration. I want you to make him mine. I want him to love me like it's the only thing that matters." Mulsae stares into his mistburn. So it begins. His stomach sinks.

She shifts her weight and gestures idly at the door. "He's already been transferred to the lower cells. You'll begin tomorrow."

He nods slowly. "Do you want him hollowed fast, or thoroughly?"

Zudaeshi hums. "Thoroughly. I want this done right. Strip him down until he knows what he is. I want to see him on a leash, calling me his love." She glances toward him. "Use your creativity, Mulsae. Make a spectacle of his soul. I want to enjoy the show."

Mulsae's stomach turns. But his voice stays calm. "As you wish, Your Radiance."

She swirls her goblet thoughtfully, watching the wine catch the firelight. "I so wanted to hear him beg. I wanted him to scream her name, admit she was his." Mulsae doesn't respond. He has nothing left to give.

She eyes him over the rim of her goblet. "This has been exhausting," she says with a dramatic exhale. "The girl's death, Garrick's silence, Malric's failure. My whole week has been ruined."

She sets the goblet aside and pats on Damion's shoulder. He sits up and she rises to her feet with Damion following her movements. She steps towards her bed chamber door. "Mulsae," she says with a languid pout, "Come comfort me." She takes a few more steps and Mulsae doesn't move. I'm so fucking tired.

She reaches the doorway and turns, voice sharpening, "I said to come comfort me, Mulsae."

He closes his eyes, "Yes, Your Radiance." He downs the last of his mistburn and stands. Slowly. His limbs ache. His magic depleted. His heart is ash.

She smiles, pleased again. "Good. Come now and touch me. Comfort me. Adore me. Take my mind off my troubles."

Mulsae approaches Zudaeshi, each step reluctant but obedient, practiced but heavy. Damion follows and they enter her bed chamber. They trudge after her like ghosts through candlelight. Two shadows stitched by grief. A team of two, headed toward the dark.

The door clicks shut behind them.