Eurion was glaring at the body of the creature that was laid in front of him as if he could burn the thing away with the magic. The only movement he made was turning his head to make sure everyone else was okay, to make sure Sláine was okay. Apart from the depletion of their magic, it seemed they were all fine minus the cut on his own side. But the assassin paid no notice to it as he turned his head back to the night stalker.
“They’re not supposed to be real.” His tone was hard, and he didn’t look at any of his travelling companions as he said them.
No, that was why he had been scared, because the fuckers weren’t supposed to exist in the first place. Fairytales, stories, make believe to scare children from wandering too deep or too far away from their families. They were not supposed to be here, or all places, close to the witches territory, and even on this plain to begin with. The stories had always been laced with truth. They he existed, many centuries ago before any of this was founded, before the Fae, before them, but they were supposed to be dead. They were supposed to be dead and buried and had been long gone otherwise why would they be called stories?
Eurion muttered to himself in his own tongue as he stood slowly, trying not to move his hand away from the wound in case it was worse than he had expected. He couldn’t tell considering he was still half in shock and half running of adrenaline as to whether it was properly serious. But he didn’t feel like fainting, and he still had his sight, so that was a good sign.
Sláine slid to the ground, the dizziness coming back in a rush. Magical backlash was a bitch. He hadn't expected the two worlds to be so far apart this time, or for the other one to be so resistant to shifting around. Add that to the constant push of non-stop force in areas he wasn't trained in. and his magic was fighting against him for the expelled energy. His head also hurt, and dully he remembered to check inventory. The prince looked down to inspect his hand, uncurling his fingers. A neat slice cut across his palm from where he had pushed against his blade, and the wound was cauterized and throbbed from the minor burns scattered across his skin. Elsewhere, there were cuts all over him, some shallow slices along his neck and arms, and he could feel his ribs protesting with each breath. The hit from that last beast would probably bruise.
Otherwise, the rest of them were okay. Aideen scanned Eurion with a small frown directed towards the hand covering his wound, then looked to the twins Caoimhe was mostly fine, if a bit burnt out from magically battling the beats as well as physically. She had a few more cuts like Sláine did, but hadn't gotten quite as close as the prince did.
As Sláine collected himself and tried to get his spotty vision back to normal, he stilled looked for Eurion to make sure he was okay. He didn't like what little of the wound he could see. Caoimhe gathered the discarded swords and doused the flames with a quick burst of magic to smother them. "Something is going on," he said, and pointed at one of the dead bodies. "You're right, those shouldn't exist here, and we didn't let them in." The prince smoothed a hand over Aideen's hair, more a self soothing gesture than anything. "This is isn't normal. Someone or something is messing with shit that shouldn't be messed with." And he could tell by Eurion's reaction to the ambush that this wasn't a normal occurrence, either.
Eurion lent against the nearest tree. He dropped his bow in favour of putting both hands onto his side as he felt the blood seeping through. With the little magical energy he had left he used the shadow from the tree casting over him to apply the pressure, letting him move his hands away and see just how bad the wound was.
Not good, was the answer. Those claws had gone deeper than they should have. The shadows flickered around the cut, the slightest indication that the assassin was straining even if he tried to not to show it. He would only be able to hide it for so long, pretend that he was okay before his magic strained and withered away to rest. Even the shadows were tired, scared and stressed, he could feel it in the way they cast over them, lurking, waiting, as if something else was out there. For now it was just enough to prevent it from looking too terrible, but he had a feeling that both Sláine and Aideen who had seemed to frown, weren’t going to like what they saw eventually.
They had to get out of there. If the Night Stalkers had been here, Gods knew what else would be lurking in the shadows. They still had a fair walk ahead of them. They were all tired, half injured. The short cut wasn’t exactly ‘short’ anymore with the disturbance in their path.
Who was messing with realities to bring back creatures from long dead pasts? It couldn’t be the Old Gods… surely, they didn’t have the strength, at least not enough magical energy left to drag beings like that through and keep them there. It wasn’t possible. It was why they used him to do their shit instead of doing it themselves. Something else was going on, they could all feel it.
“We have to go.” Eurion wiped the blood of his hands as it was nothing, picking his bow back up. Maybe if he pretended like it was then it would be fine. They had to move, it wasn’t safe anymore. It hadn’t been safe to begin with but it was really not safe when something was messing with reality.
Caoimhe held a hand out and hauled his brother up and onto his feet, the put the back of his hand against Sláine's forehead. The younger prince batted him away. He wasn't in the mood for that, and he knew what he was feeling and was used to it by now; it would go away eventually. He grabbed his swords back from his twin, sheathed them, picked up his discarded bag, then stalked his way over to Eurion with a barely concealed look of concern.
Aideen twirled around, not quite comfortable enough with their safety to sheathe her sword. "Caoimhe, can you jump us? Sláine's down for the count magically for a bit, and I don't think any of us are really keen on being ambushed again. We need to find somewhere to stop and rest."
The prince looked out towards the main road, re-checking the invisible map. "I don't know. You and Eurion might not respond well to the feeling, plus, it's one thing to jump ourselves, it's another to do it to a group." But he also knew their chances of getting through without an encounter was looking less likely now that they've been attacked once. The suppressive feeling of the darkness wasn't letting up either, not completely. "I might be able to get us to the road."
"I'll help." Sláine saw the blood Eurion tried wiping away and knew they needed to find a place to stop. He turned to his brother, who already had his mouth open in protest. "It's just a jump. I can take Eurion and follow you, you take Aideen." Then he turned back to the assassin, this time his concern clear when the others couldn't see it. "But it's your call. Jumping is just, like… Caoimhe threw the pillow at me through a jump. We fold the current reality into a false future, displacing things and people. Most see it as teleportation." He didn't want to force Eurion under more magic than they had already done so with the shield. The prince refused to be like the Gods.
"But they have to know where they're going," Aideen added, "Hence Sláine following Caoimhe." She never took her eyes off the rest of the woods as they spoke, her body tense and ready to fight again. "Either way, we need to make a choice and quickly."
Eurion knew that the chance of making it out of the woods now were slim. The darkness was starting to constrict even him, which wasn’t a good sign at all. He didn’t know how far he’d be able to make it before his wound started to make things ten times more difficult then things already were. If they could get back out into the open road it would make everything a whole lot easier.
He didn’t like how concerned Sláine looked, and he tried to convey that he was fine but it wasn’t working great, not when he was staining to keep his own make shift bandage secure, “Only if you feel up for it.” The prince had used a significant amount of his own magical energy, and transporting two people would be a cause for concern. Eurion worried for the prince, he was worried for all of them, quite frankly, which was unusual, but more so for Sláine.
He wasn’t fond of the idea of jumping, not when he already felt constricted by the magic around them, but they didn’t have much of a choice. If they braved the rest of the way by foot, it was highly likely something else would creep out from the shadows, and they wouldn’t be so lucky, Eurion knew, when they were all feeling drained from the previous fight. As much as he didn’t want to, it would only be for a few moments, and they would be out of the woods, they would be somewhat safe on the open road and closer to that inn where - hopefully - he could fix up his side without worrying Sláine too much.
Caoimhe looked like he wanted to second Eurion's words, because he knew that his brother had strained his magic too much too quickly. Had they had time to build it up, he would be a lot less exhausted with a lot less magical backlash. Though, it was cause for concern that the world they've exploited several times already was so resistant to the prince's magic. Either way, he also knew his twin too well. "Sláine will claim he's up for anything, even if he's on his deathbed." The eldest prince ignored the glare sent his way and ushered Aideen to his side, curling an arm around her waist when she got close enough to pull her against his side. "Then we'll jump. It's getting too creepy and unnerving for me, anyway."
Ignoring his brother and his all too accurate accusation, Sláine stepped closer to Eurion and curled a careful hand around the assassin's arm. "I'm not stupid," he muttered, referring to the wound and Eurion's look of attempted appeasement. When they could, he was using a better bandage to cover it, at least until they got to the inn—then it would be dealt with better. But for now, he tugged Eurion close and looked to Caoimhe. Already, his invisible-again magic curled from his palms and crept along the assassin's arm, as if exploring the newest person. "Lead the way."
The way the twins' magic worked, it was like an extension of them, with physical weight where it reached out and interacted with the world. It was fluid but controllable, no different from an extra limb or two. So when Caoimhe and Aideen disappeared in a watery flash, Sláine's magic washed over the prince and assassin like a full-body embrace. He tried keeping it as gentle and comforting as possible, but it was clear he was exhausted, the magic itself sluggish when responding. Around them, the world folded in on itself, blurring and shifting like they stood in a kaleidoscope or five-sided die being rolled. Though they themselves didn't move, the world around them continued to fold and shift, colors shifting as they arched around and above them. Sláine's strained breaths seemed louder in the space.
It only lasted a few seconds. Caoimhe came to a stop at the edge of the woods, and with Sláine following the tug of his magic, he and Eurion didn't take long to join them.
Eurion wasn't used to the fact that someone else was around, especially someone like Sláine who seemed genuinely interested and concerned with his wounds. It was an odd feeling, comforting almost, but he couldn't shake the want and habit to tell the prince that he would be fine, that he didn't have to worry and stop looking at him like he was actually concerned for the assassin.
It definitely wasn't a great feeling when they jumped. It reminded him too much of the Gods magic. He reminded himself that it wasn't, that it was Sláine's arm wrapped around him, the prince's magic and that was who was holding him. But as the world warped about him it was hard to shake the feeling and the thoughts that it was them. It was over before he could really process what had happened, and when his eyes opened again they were out of the woods. Eurion didn't let go of Sláine, however. They both needed a bit of strength from the other considering their states and if it was questioned they could use that as an excuse for the closeness and the reluctance to let go of one another.
The constricting feeling that had been suffocating them inside the woods eased until it was gone altogether. The sunlight streamed down on them from its place in the sky and Eurion felt the way his makeshift bandage twitched. He was quick to use his cape to cover it, both in an attempt to make sure that it wasn't questioned further and so the shadows had a little extra coverage now they were out in the open.
"If we keep following the path we'll find the inn," Eurion couldn't remember the name of the place. It was small, but bound to have some rooms available, even if it was just two and they had to bunk for the night again, "Out in the open we'll be fine." Unless there were any less-magical beings around that intended to make an appearance.
Sláine couldn't help the closeness to the Gods' magic, so he could only hope that he made it the least invasive as possible for Eurion despite his magic's waning strength. As they made it to the road, he faltered some, but forced himself to keep going. Old habits kicked in, and his body switched to survival mode. The prince may be running on less than two hours of sleep, with magical exhaustion and backlash kicking his ass, and a few aching bruises and cuts protesting every move, but he straightened and forced himself to keep a clear head.
But he didn't let go of Eurion, and that alone gave away the slightest tremor in his hands. His grip tightened some when the assassin directed them to where the inn would be, and he kept the man close just in case he tried walking away. "Wait," Sláine said. Aideen and Caoimhe stopped mid-step and looked back. The older prince furrowed his brow a little when he noticed the two not separating, but Aideen patted him on the chest and whispered for him to leave them alone. Sláine ignored them both, not really caring for being discreet for the moment as he blindly rummaged around in his bag for a roll of bandages he had stored in there. Though he was a magical being, and normally could heal himself for minimal injuries, he still needed to know basic first aid and on-the-spot patching up. The prince knew that Eurion wouldn't want him to help, though, so he held out the roll.
"You're going to bleed out before we get there," he said. Caoimhe made a strangled noise and studied the assassin more closely, as if appalled with himself for missing something so critical. Aideen crossed her arms and leaned against the first prince, making it clear she backed up Sláine's silent statement. They wouldn't go anywhere until they were all well enough to travel the length it took to get to the inn for more intensive care. It could be chalked up to insurance, or minimal care for their guide, but Sláine still wasn't letting up on his concern, and the others didn't give away anything else that they might be thinking.
Eurion resisted the urge to roll his eyes, even though he could feel himself wanting to argue. He was fine, he would be fine, he could hold his magic long enough to get there, he'd done it before, no reason why he couldn't do it again. Of course, the last time hadn't ended well, but that wasn't the point. He didn't hide the fact that he disagreed, but he relented for the sake of avoiding an argument, "I'm fine, but whatever." Sláine wouldn't let it go until he had a proper bandage around the wound.
He took the roll, maybe a little more forcefully than he should have before he finally let go of the prince, making his way off the side of the path to carefully dump his stuff so he had both hands free for wrapping himself up. The assassin adjusted his shift and belt, letting his magic diminish so he could get a better look at what he was working with.
The claws had dug into his side leaving a fairly decent-sized gash in its wake. Three deep claw marks, one for each of the nails. Blood trickled down his side now that his magic wasn't applying pressure, and he could feel the pain starting to build. It was pretty nasty, mixed with dirt and grime and whatever else had been left on the stalker's claws before digging into him. It wouldn't kill him, and it would heal eventually, but it wasn't good.
Eurion held his shirt in his mouth as he unrolled the bandages, trying to keep his body turned away so the extent of the wound wouldn't be commented on. He made quick work of wrapping himself up, making sure it was tight and secure before he pulled his shirt back down and picked his things back up again. His arrows and bag over his back with a soft, pained grunt before picking his bow back up again and turning back to the group, "Can we go now?"
Sláine watched closely to make sure that Eurion was really going to wrap the bandage, more than a little amused by the forcefulness of him grabbing the roll. But when the assassin lifted his shirt, the prince had to look away lest he find himself staring for a multitude of reasons. He didn't need to stress himself out with however bad the wound was—that could come later—and Eurion was clearly doing what was asked of him. But Sláine also knew that he'd stare for other reasons, and he had no excuse to do so, so he occupied himself with taking another small roll that was partially used already to wrap his hand in order to occupy himself. It'd also be a bit hypocritical to ignore his visible injuries while bitching about Eurion's, never mind the fact that one was clearly worse than the other.
The other two talked amongst themselves as they waited, checking in with each other while they could. Caoimhe cupped Aideen's cheek and turned her face this way and that, and while the guard bitched about it, she let the prince get it out of his system. Both of them were otherwise unharmed, Eurion being the most physically harmed and Sláine the most magically harmed. Caoimhe was a bit drained from fighting against the stalkers with his shield, but relatively fine.
When Eurion joined them once more, Aideen gave him an up-and-down look and snickered. "Being snippy with the royals, huh?" she teased, and offered a two-fingered salute. "Welcome to the team; you'll fit right in." The twins mirrored each other's eye roll, and Sláine hesitantly rejoined Eurion's side. He was a little unsure if the assassin was upset with him for being concerned, so he didn't touch him again, but he did give a silent go-ahead for them to continue on. He was happy enough with their current situation, and the other two had their breather, so now all was left was to walk along the road and get to the inn.
The walk to the inn took most of the day, especially with a magically drained Sláine and a physically injured Eurion. Luckily, they encountered no other dangerous creatures, or anyone, on their way to the inn. There were quiet conversations between the group, although Eurion kept quiet most of the way if only to conserve energy and to hide his pain. He hoped that the inn would have some kind of painkiller they could buy otherwise it was going to be a long night.
By the time they made it, the sun was beginning to set softly over the horizon, casting the area in a golden, orange glow, the sky being painted in soft pinks and reds as the sun descended over them. The assassin might have even called it beautiful if he wasn't so focused on trying to make it to the inn. The attack had left a sour taste in his mouth, and he couldn't help but worry about what else may be happening that they didn't know about. If the realities were shifting, merging, perhaps, who knew what would happen, especially if there were creatures from centuries ago being pulled through and ones that were less than friendly.
Finally, the sight of the inn came into sight, the soft puffs of smoke from the chimney drifting up into the air as the sign out the front swung back and forth. It looked well kept from the outside, the wood was polished and clearly had been replaced recently due to the difference in colour. There was a small patio out the front with a few chairs, a couple of tables sat to one side with a door that must have led to the kitchens, or at least some form of dining for the travellers that passed through. As they drew closer, the sounds of clinking from the kitchens, muffled conversations and laughter could be heard, and Eurion would have thanked the Gods if he hadn't been so hurt. A bed, a room. A place to lie and rest. A place to talk to Sláine.
Sláine was so close to collapsing the entire walk, and it was simply willpower that kept him going. It wasn't even the type of exhaustion that made him want to sleep, even if he did need it, he just wanted to fall into a bed and not have to move or do anything for a few hours. Preferably next to Eurion, but things between them was getting far too blurred and complicated for them to keep pushing the rules without a conversation. And if that conversation went badly, then he wouldn't be doing any of that at all. He hoped it wouldn't go badly. He hoped that the assassin was just as drawn to Sláine as the prince was to Eurion, and that they could work something out. He hoped a lot of things, but there were a lot of fears and worries too—they were never far.
He didn't care to keep track of how long they walked, most of them quiet and in their own thoughts, but the inn eventually showed itself. They all seemed to give a collective sigh of relief when they spotted it, and were happy to watch it grow closer and closer.
When they finally reached the building, Caoimhe fingered a pouch of money within his bag. "I can get us the rooms, since I'm least likely to bleed over everyone or hit the floor." He glanced at all of them, as if confirming the okay, and started to go in when Aideen held up a hand to his chest to stop him.
Her eyes were on Sláine and Eurion, though her question was directed towards the oldest prince too. "Two or three? Rooms," she clarified. "Sláine didn't end up dead the last time we stuck him with you, but you also had our backs back there." There was something else in her gaze, something analytical, but Caoimhe was simply patient behind her as he waited to know the number he needed to ask for. Sláine wanted to insist on just two, but he bit it back and cast a fleeting glance over at the assassin. It was his choice if he wanted freedom over sharing with the prince.
"Two. May as well save some money. Better to have more and not need it than use it up on an extra room." Of course, that wasn't the only reason for wanting to share a room with the prince, and the two of them knew that, but Eurion didn't let anything on besides simply wanting to save the coins that they had. They were princes, so money shouldn't matter, and if they questioned it Eurion could merely blame the fact that he wasn't used to having the freedom of just being able to have an extra room if they needed it in favour of conserving what they had when it was more necessary.
It made sense in his head, and he was sure that it wouldn't be too strange. If Aideen had been a thief, surely she would understand his reasoning, but whether she did or not Eurion didn't practically care and met her analytical gaze with one that conveyed that he was simply trying to be cautious.
He didn't look at the prince, but he hoped that he would be fine with sharing a room again. Rationality told him that he would be, especially after yesterday and the fact that the two of them could barely handle one day without the freedom of being able to talk freely about their little complicated situation. At least this would give them another night, at least one more night to try and work things out, if only a little bit. It didn't have to be a long conversation, and it didn't have to be much, just enough that allowed them to be on the same page. Eurion couldn't help but feel a little nervous at the thought that things could go wrong. He blamed it on his own pain making his head feel strange and not the idea that he could genuinely be concerned as to what Sláine might be thinking, what he might say later tonight.
Caoimhe nodded and ducked into the inn without another word, the request of two rooms good enough for him. Aideen studied Eurion a little more, then shrugged and moved over to Sláine to bug him now that her lover was gone. The prince still wasn't too happy with her from their earlier argument, but that was a conversation best had later on, and both silently decided on a truce for now as she took his bandaged hand and unwound the dressing to get a better look at the damage. The guard tsked at him. "You should know better than to touch your own sword blade, let alone when it's on fire."
Sláine didn't have the energy for this. He let her examine the minor burns, then snatched his hand away and rewound the bandage. "I didn't have leverage. It was either that or risk getting skinned by Caoimhe's scythe, and that option wasn't exactly appealing. He frowned down at it, thinking over his magic and the complications. "It shouldn't have been so hard to pull, and they collided too hard to be normal when I did manage to stitch them together. It took nothing for it to rip apart." Aideen tilted her head, and he explained, "We've used that world as a natural weapon before. Easiest thing. Except this time it wasn't." Sláine shook his head and ran his fingers through his hair, catching tangles and messing it up even more. "It's weird."
They didn't have to wait long for Caoimhe to grab their rooms. He could sweet talk his way into anything, as long as it didn't involve precise language or eloquence. So, really, he just knew how to turn on the charm and hope for the best. And thankfully, he popped out of the inn with two keys in hand, and a small bag hooked around his wrist. Aideen quickly joined him, and Sláine loosely held Eurion's arm when he went to join them as well—an excuse to touch the assassin once more, because he was a simple man sometimes. Caoimhe brandished his goods and ushered them into the inn. "Right upstairs, first two rooms. They're across from each other. I also got some painkillers for everyone, and warm food on the way."
The inn was fairly large considering how it looked from the outside, with a spacious hall space in the front where the front desk was, leading to the kitchen and dining area around the back. A fire crackled in the space, filling the room with a nice warmth. There were paintings decorating any and all wall spaces and it made the place feel more like a home than an inn. Eurion wasn't going to complain, and when Caoimhe returned with the keys he nearly snatched it out of his hand, ready to just lie down if only for five minutes before the food went to their rooms.
"Thanks," Eurion gave the first prince a small nod and a look of appreciation as he took the key and some of the painkillers. He didn't protest to Sláine holding onto him, they could both use the extra help, and they both wanted the extra comfort. The assassin led them both up the stairs to their room. He didn't move too fast, they were both tired and as much as they wanted to relax and lie down, there was no need to rush, at least not in the state the two of them were in.
The rooms were bigger than the one at the Wolf's Shed, although not by much. It was enough to manoeuvre around, however, and the bed in the centre would be large enough for the two of them, just about, but Eurion didn't care. Once they were both inside, he was quick to place his stuff down with a long sigh. His wound was starting to hurt like a fucking bitch. Thank Gods for Caoimhe getting those painkillers because Eurion wasn't able to pretend just how badly the wound was starting to hurt.
The party split up, with Eurion practically dragging Sláine to their room after grabbing the key and meds and Aideen getting dragged along to the other room to avoid any thieving incidents. The moment they were safely behind a door, Sláine made a beeline for the bed, stripping off his travel clothes as he did so and tossing them into a corner along with his weapons and bag. His movements were as rushed as he could make them, but his shaking hands made the process a little slower than he was a fan of. Once he was down to just the loose button up and his pants, he dropped face-first onto the bed and let out a low and pent-up groan.
"I fucking hate magic," the prince grumbled into the pillow. Then he turned his head to look at Eurion, and there was that concerned furrow to his brow. But he didn't try to get up to help or make demands again, knowing how the assassin had reacted the last time he did so. Instead, he offered a soft suggestion. "You should at least clean it. Ward off infection. Fresh bandage." His arms curled beneath the pillow his head rested on. "I'd offer to stitch it, but I don't know if I have the supplies, and I doubt I'm the steadiest hand at the moment."
Then he just… watched him. Not for any part reason, at least outside of the gnawing worry that Eurion doesn't actually like him or feel like he does, and would want to cut off anything they've done that's toed the line at "friendly". But Sláine wasn't able to get his fill of the assassin as they walked for fear of the others catching on, so he was making up for lost opportunity. His gaze was soft and heavy lidded, but unwavering.
Eurion hummed his agreement at the prince's first statement. Where Sláine was rushed with his movements to strip off his clothes, Eurion was not, if only to make sure he didn’t lose any of his things or injure himself more. His cape was first to go, boots and pants quickly switched out for the ones he had nicked from Sláine in the morning. He was wary of his shirt, although it followed not long after. He knew the prince was going to have to see the wound sooner or later. Eurion rummaged through his bag to find the roll of bandages that Sláine had given him earlier, glancing at him for a moment before he turned his attention back on himself.
He had started to bleed through the bandages, and as much as it killed him to admit, Sláine was right- he should clean it. Eurion unwrapped the bandages from around him to reveal the wound. The bleeding was easing, but not fast enough, and over the course of the walk it seemed to have gotten worse. It was a grim sight, to say the least, even the assassin made a face as he moved for the small basin in the corner of the room, “It doesn’t need stitches.” It probably did, but that could wait. If by the time morning came it hadn't made any improvement, he would stitch it up, but for now, Eurion was too tired and too sore to care. He grabbed a small rag from where it sat on the side of the basin, wetting it and gently dabbing it against his skin.
Eurion held back a groan, biting his lip instead as he cleaned off the blood and dirt, making sure to be gentle but as quick as he could. Fuck it hurt, and he could feel Sláine watching him.
Shirtless, wounded, wearing his clothes once again and finally in a private room. Had he not been so focused on making sure he wouldn’t get an infection, Eurion might have gone red. All he wanted to do right now was lie next to the prince, to be held and to hold him, rest, and talk when they were both more clear headed.
Sláine warmed despite himself at the sight of Eurion swapping into the prince's clothes, even if it was just the pants for now. He shouldn't like the sight so much, or be oddly proud of himself like he was when he successfully caused trouble, like he had accomplished something worth being proud of. But it also reminded him of the uncomfortable leather digging into his hips, and the doubtless grime sticking to the inside of his current shirt. With another groan, though this one more annoyed than relieved, Sláine rolled off of the bed and dug around his bag. First were his pants, and he slid on a loose and thin pair that hung off his hips and was incredibly comfortable. Then he unbuttoned his shirt, focusing intently to ward off the shaking, and eventually slid it off to swap it with a fitted sleeveless shirt.
When changed, the prince came up behind Eurion to get a better look at the wound, though he kept to himself despite everything in him screamed to help, to kneel down and sew the wounds shut because he didn't trust Eurion to take care of himself properly. Hypocritical, he knew, but those instincts didn't care about that. But he didn't touch and he didn't try to boss the assassin around with his own care. The prince could work his way up to that, test his limits and steadily work to push them back. For now, though, he simply got a better look and sighed a little.
"That was reckless," Sláine softly chided, "It could've been a lot worse." The wounds were nasty, nearly too deep, and still bleeding. At least Eurion was cleaning it. He sighed again and knocked his forehead against the assassin's shoulder in a tiny headbutt, then remembered one last thing he had to do. As he released his previously woven magic, he leaned back so as to not hit Eurion with the uncovered horns, and Sláine could feel his bottom canines poking between his top teeth once more, back to normal once more.
The headache only doubled down on him when he realized just how bad it was. The prince winced from the sharp pain and moved away to grab a painkiller, hoping that it eased some of the aches of his cuts and bruises too.
“It’ll heal,” Eurion mumbled, focusing on cleaning the wound and not crying out in pain too much. When he finally deemed it clean enough - which, by his standards wasn’t as good as it could have been- he rebound his side. Not his best work, but it was tight enough that it would hold the wound together with enough pressure to hopefully stop the bleeding this time, “Besides, it wasn’t like there was any other choice.”
Had he not done what he did they wouldn’t be having this conversation. The night stalkers wouldn’t die unless attacked correctly, and when they were up against three, time hadn’t been on their side. Nothing had been on their side. Ambushed, attacked, and their original plan had gone to shit merely moments after it had started. Merely swinging at the beasts in hopes of a critical hit was never going to work, and so, Eurion had done what he did best- gone for the kill, even if he injured himself in the process.
He didn’t bother to put a clean shirt on, opting to leave it off in favour of moving his arms too much and ripping the wound open more than it already was. It had been hours since the attack, but the assassin could still feel the slightly tingly, constricting feeling of the magic that the night stalkers had used against them. He could figure out the reason why, but he wasn’t putting much thought into it, either, not when he saw the prince wince at his own pain, concern growing into his usual frown.
Eurion watched as Sláine took the painkillers, and didn’t look away until he was sure they had been swallowed, allowing him to relax just a small amount. He should have taken some himself was more concerned with making sure the other was okay than himself. When he finally looked away, he moved to the bed, carefully sitting before lying on his back with a soft grunt as he tried to get comfortable- not easy when you had a huge fucking gash in the side of you.
Sláine curled his nose at the taste of the pills as they went down dry, even if he knew that they would help eventually with his headache. Licking his teeth to get rid of the chalky taste, the prince grabbed the rest of the pills and headed over to the bed, where Eurion was slowly attempting to settle down and get comfortable. He hadn't missed the hovering, feeling the assassin's eyes on him while he took the painkillers, and there was a glitter of humor in his eyes as he came up to the bed.
It felt like ages since they had shared a bed together. Sláine was unsure, his thoughts all muddled from the hours of overthinking, the ambush, and the throbbing in his head. But he pushed himself to act normal, to be as comfortable around the assassin as he had been the night before. With a soft sigh, Sláine slid back down onto the mattress and settled onto his stomach once more, the meds held out for Eurion to take. From the looks of it, the two would be taking care of each other.
"Hey," he called, his voice soft and eyes settling on the assassin next to him, happy to be so close without needing to justify it. As if trying to solidify that reality, he shifted closer and propped his chin on his crossed arms, mindful of getting too close and possibly moving the other too much, and oddly happy to have the weight of his horns back. Now that they had the freedom to talk about anything they wanted, he was at a loss for words. Did he talk about their trip? Make jokes that he wouldn't have dared made in the presence of the others? Broach the subject of their steadily shifting relationship? Sláine traced the outline of Eurion's figure, noting the lean muscle of stealthy work that was capable of pinning him to the bed. He couldn't find anything witty or humorous in the moment, so his exhausted mind settled on a too-truthful statement. "I missed you."
Eurion propped himself up with one hand, gladly taking the painkillers that Sláine held out and being quick to take them, grimacing slightly at the taste but more than happy to get them into his system. He shifted slightly, using the few, squashed pillows to support his back as he moved backwards, a sort of half sitting half lying state so he was able to see the prince better without having to strain his neck.
"You're too far away." Was his grumbled response to the other's words. He wanted Sláine next to him, leaning on him. He didn't care about the pain in his side, he just wanted the prince and was unhappy that Sláine wasn't currently settled into his body. Of course, they weren't that far apart, but even just the smallest bit of space was too much for him. After having to pretend like nothing had happened all day, they finally had the space to talk, to touch, and Eurion was going to make the most of it.
The assassin was ready to drag the prince into him if he didn't move, and the near pout he was currently sporting he hoped was obvious enough to convey what he was thinking. The talking could wait until a little later. They had all night to do that, and right now they were both too tired to bring up what they were both thinking. He wanted to spark that conversation, but the way Sláine looked at him, that tiredness he knew he also was wearing, for now, he just wanted to hold him, even for five minutes. If either Aideen or Caoimhe walked in Eurion knew he would probably yell at them to get the fuck out and leave them alone. After having to deal with the silence and the shared looks when they hoped the other two weren't watching, the thought of them interrupting was far from pleasant.
Sláine's grin was quick to spread, unable to help himself when Eurion was so cute with his grumbled words, which were on the verge of a demand. It shouldn't have made him feel lighter and warmer than he already was, to know that Eurion wanted him closer—and the only closer that was possible was body-to-body. But now that he had the assassin's complaint and adorable pout seared into his mind, he couldn't stop himself at just touching.
The prince lifted himself up without a word and shuffled closer. Had Eurion not been injured, he would've happily returned this morning's gesture and settled into the man's lap. But he was sporting a nasty wound that Sláine didn't want to disturb more than necessary, so the prince hooked a leg over Eurion's and laid himself partially on top of the assassin, chin on shoulder and arm resting over chest. He made sure his horns weren't hurting anyone or being a nuisance as he got comfortable, then relaxed into Eurion with a heavy sigh that released all the tension he had been holding up until that moment. This is what he had been missing as they traveled, the comfort Eurion provided with just a simple pout and his natural warmth. "Better?" he asked, humor and relief mixing in his tone.
There was no denying that the longer they spent together, the more they wanted from one another, and that was cause for a discussion. They should be focusing on recovery, or talking about the wrongness of the entire conflict within the woods. They shouldn't be more concerned with touch. Sláine shouldn't be rejoicing and savoring the instant drop in Eurion's guard with that damn pout. It was funny—the assassin would've never made such a complaint when around the others. The teasing had been a pleasant surprise, but it was all targeted at Sláine, as the others had done so. But that private demand was more intimate, more vulnerable, than he imagined Eurion was comfortable making around anyone else. How he became the exception would probably always be a mystery to him, but he was happy, and would continue to bask in Eurion's softer side.
Eurion slung an arm around Sláine as if he was going to move away now that he finally had him in his arms, or maybe even disappear. The assassin rested his head against the prince, settling his head between his horns and breathing him in with a long breath, "Much better."
He let his eyes slip shut, simply just enjoying being able to hold the prince once again. In such a short amount of time Sláine had managed to slip by the walls Eurion had built and weave his way into his brain and take up a good portion of his thoughts. He figured it was because Sláine had seen him when he was his most vulnerable and hadn't yelled, hadn't judged, and had offered support and comfort when no one else had ever done so. How even thought Eurion had gone to the palace to kill him the other night, he had still been there to help. It confused Eurion just as much as it confused the prince, quite frankly, how a stranger had slipped through the cracks for the first time in a long time and he wasn't mad about it. Eurion was enjoying it, in some way. The want for someone, to be able to hold and be held, comforted and supported. Those deep desires that he had hidden away for such a long time resurfaced whenever Sláine was in his thoughts- which was often considering the amount he had turned his mind towards him during the walk.
There was so much he should say, but for now, he took to simply tracing the muscles on Sláine's back, "How's your head feeling?" He asked after a few moments, shifting so he could rest his forehead against the other's.
When that arm wrapped around him and held on so fiercely, Sláine decided that he quite liked how clingy Eurion could be. They both were, really, in a sense. The prince could never quite make himself pull away anytime he was given a taste of the man, always finding himself wanting to bury himself away from the world and into Eurion's body, or reluctant to make the man move when Sláine was the one holding onto him. But when it was Eurion pulling him tighter, trapping him against his chest as if the world would steal him away, Sláine was happy to press into him in a reassurance that he wasn't going anywhere.
The less amount of fabric between them was a new sensation, though one that the prince wasn't overly opposed to, since he could feel Eurion's heartbeat better against his wrist, the warmth they shared, and the assassin's soft touch to his back. Sláine closed his eyes to melt into it all, and only turned his face up towards Eurion's a fraction when he felt his forehead rest against his own, like an acknowledgement of the action, and approval. As if they couldn't bear to be apart in any way, and had to be as close as possible. Sláine hummed, content, though his answer slightly contradicted that contentment. "Killing me," he whispered, just a ghost of a smile on his lips, "but I'll live. It should fade soon, anyway." With just a tilt of his head, he playfully bumped their noses. "I won't bother asking about your side, I know you'll lie, but how about you?'
If he hadn't known better, he would say that they were already a couple, lounging together after a long day and simply enjoying themselves. They certainly acted like it, intimate but not dipping into deeper territories, checking in with each other after a fight. Sláine had thoughts, of course—urges that were innocent in a different context—but this was good too. He liked this. He liked breathing in Eurion and knowing the other was doing the same, like they wouldn't be wholly relaxed if they didn't.
The worry that Eurion felt towards Sláine was new. After never having worry about someone for most of his life it was almost overwhelming. The urge to tend to and take the pain away from him, to hold it for himself if it meant knowing that the prince wouldn’t be in pain anymore. All the thoughts, feelings and sensations swirling around in his mind had his heart beating a tad faster than it should have, only because it was so new to him.
If this was what they were like now having not spoken about whatever it was that had settled between them and caused the two to be drawn to each other, what would they be like in a week? How would it be when they made it to the festival? Eurion presumed there was some explanation to the quickness of the development, why he felt so attached. He’d never payed attention when it came to romance in Fae culture and was starting to regret dismissing the topic so quickly in his younger years. There was always explanation for these things, there had to be.
Eurion pushed the thoughts aside. He’d work it out later, if ever. Maybe when they made it to his homelands he would. For now, he simply returned the nose bump with one of his own, “It hurts like a fucking bitch,” He had been tempted to lie, but if felt okay when it came to telling Sláine about how he was really feeling, “It’ll be fine soon.” Just as the princes head would be okay, so would his side, even if it took a bit longer for the painkillers to kick in.
He was enjoying the closeness, how comfortable he felt in the others presence and was content to not move for the rest of the evening. Their little bubble of comfort and security has return, and they could finally enjoy one another without having to hide it.
Since Sláine was a twin, he knew nothing but worry for another. He and Caoimhe had popped out of the womb worrying about each other, and it only amplified while thralls for Seiger for the entirety of their lives. They had found fleeting moments of freedom here and there, and spent those moments wreaking havoc, befriending the staff, or curled up together in silence just to catch their breaths. Every step of every day, Sláine was worried about Caoimhe. If he ate enough, if he got enough sleep, if he was actually happy. With over eighty years of worry, his bones were practically steeped in it.
But this fierce care and worry over another that wasn't family, the desperate urge to comfort Eurion and distract him from his pain in any means possible—that was new. Sláine wanted to get as close to the man as possible if it meant making him feel a little more okay. His entire being thrummed with the urge to check on Eurion's wounds, to care for him himself because he knew that the assassin had done the bare minimum with care. But they were both comfortable, and Sláine was pretty sure that Eurion would whine and complain about him moving, as if he would be going too far away.
His hand slid up to cup the side of Eurion's face, fingers idly tracing the edges of his ear. "I know sleep is necessary, but I don't want to lose time like this." The admission was soft, like he wasn't quite sure if it was okay to say that. But he had to. Aideen and Caoimhe could be as affectionate as they wanted to be around them, even if they kept the PDA to a minimum anyway. But Sláine couldn't so much as walk close to Eurion for too long without fearing a side-eye and too many questions he couldn't answer. It wasn't fair, and he was more than a little bitter about that, especially now that the intensity of his longing was crashing down onto the prince while he had Eurion in his grasp.
Eurion let his eyes fall shut softly at the touches, his ear twitching softly as he leaned into it. With every touch, even the slightest bit of contact, he could feel that invisible pull towards the prince growing louder and stronger within his chest. Every moment they spent together like this, even though the number had been minimal as of yet, it just caused the want and need that he felt to be near Sláine, to check in, to touch and hold and care and worry to grow.
They were supposed to be nothing. They were supposed to be strangers who had been tasked with a mission that was entirely too dangerous and probably impossible, and they weren’t supposed to have any connection at all. But here they were, on the second night of knowing each other, cuddled up and talking about how they wanted more. More of the moments like these where all they could do was speak to each other softly and hold one another as if they had known each other for a lifetime already. A connection that was entirely outrageous and absurd to the both of them, one that wasn’t possible but yet it was, and neither of them fought against it.
“We have all night to rest,” Eurion said, “We don’t have all night to talk.” Because they needed to, well, they didn’t have to, but they should. To work out what it was that they were, what they might lead to, how the hell they were going to keep it a secret if it continued because the assassin had no doubt that the first prince and his lover would be less than thrilled to know that their friend was getting it on with their assassin, of all people.
He knew it was coming. Of course it was. They couldn't continue on with their lives without addressing the rapidly changing relationship. They were practically nose-to-nose and cuddling, talking softly about the care they had for each other, even if not explicitly stated. Sláine had missed Eurion, despite being just a few feet away from him for hours; but it just wasn't the same as right now, where they were invading each other's space and holding one another like they were going to be gone if they blinked too slow. A talk was needed, lines needed redrawn. They needed to be on the same page, no matter how much Sláine disliked the idea. The prince didn't want things to shift in a way that harmed their current dynamic. He liked it the way it was, even if he steadily wanted more. Eurion pulling away for a multitude of reasons was to be expected, but it'd suck.
Still, Sláine acquiesced, albeit with a soft groan of protest. "You're right," he allowed. This conversation needed to be had, and properly. So he pulled back to see Eurion clearly, putting space between their faces, though his hand stayed where it was—he wasn't that good.
Even if he didn't like the conversation topic, or the possible outcomes, he did have something he wanted to know, and it was as good of an introduction as any. "If my title didn't exist next to my name," Sláine said, voice serious but face apprehensive, "if it wasn't there to sway anything… what do you want? What would you want?" If he wasn't a prince, would Eurion still want him? Or, alternatively, if he wasn't a prince, would Eurion be more inclined to want him? It was no secret that their occupations clashed, but they weren't so disalike, and Sláine had a feeling that was a possible thought going through Eurion's mind. An assassin and prince? Never to happen.
But said prince was a rule-breaker, and hardly fit for the title anyway. If Eurion wanted what he did, he'd stand by the assassin no matter what to ensure that he got everything he asked for.
Eurion moved a little, if only to adjust himself from the throbbing in his side. His usually hard features softened, and he placed a gentle hand over where Sláine's own was positioned on his face, "I couldn't care less whether or not you have a title," He started, "This shouldn't just… happen as it has, but," He paused, taking a moment to consider what and how he wanted to say what he was thinking.
"I'm not good with all this shit, I don't know what's normal and what isn't, but I do know that whatever it is that we have I- I like it." Whether it was fate, destiny, some weird Fae shit or some fucked up trick the Gods were playing on him just watch it all crash and burn the minute they decided they were bored with watching and toying around with their assassin, Eurion didn't care. It didn't matter, in truth, the reason behind why they felt so strongly for one another in such a short period of time, as long as they were both okay with it, as long as they both wanted it, then it didn't matter.
The assassin didn't know what he wanted when it came down to the crux of things. Did they just leave things unlabeled, have their fun while they could over the time they had together and leave it at that? Or when - if - they finally returned back to the palace, would Eurion stay? Would Sláine want him to stay? What Eurion wanted didn't matter to him. After spending his whole life in the service of others and disregarding his own needs, the assassin still felt that his say didn't matter, even with the prince. He could confess the desire that he had to explore further, to see where things led but in the end, it wasn't his choice, things never were his choice.
Eurion was going to be the death of Sláine, and not because of an assassination. The prince waited anxiously for Eurion to sort through his thoughts, that aborted sentence chewing through Sláine's nerves and confidence and nearly cutting him down. His hopes had lightened some with the reassurance that his title wasn't in the mix, at least from what Eurion claimed, but then the assassin had to go and remind them both that what they were experiencing shouldn't be happening. Sláine hung onto that 'but', desperately hoping that it led to good things.
He wanted this. He wanted Eurion sharing beds with him, comfortably sitting himself in the prince's lap whenever he wanted, teasing him in the dead of night once the others were gone and couldn't hear Eurion laugh and see him smile. He wanted the privileges that came with being involved with the assassin, not just for himself, but for Eurion. Sláine wanted to see him happy, to let him explore himself and his wants outside his servitude. It was a slightly selfish way to help the man experience things, but the prince already knew he was greedy when it came to Eurion. Even the way he touched him and wanted to do so much more was greedy, but so long as Eurion liked it, he wouldn't stop.
Sláine let out a small breath, though the simple sound had nothing on the crushing weight that lifted from his chest. "I like it too," he said, maybe a little breathless. "Normal is boring, and we aren't boring people." He would've moved his touch to Eurion's chin like he had done before, had the hand over his not been there—not that he was complaining. "This… what we have… I really like it. I like you. And I want to get to know you better, in a lot of different ways. But I think the most important thing we should figure out is what we want this to be. What are the limits, what is okay," Sláine bit his lip, feeling foolish even if it was necessary, "if… we want to define what we are to each other."
