forum Opportunistic Omnivore: Scavenging the Remains of the Divine || OxO || Closed || 18+

Started March 15, 2023 by @ElderGod-kirky group

tune

Not even Sláine could calm Eurion’s panic. As much as his bow was drawn it was useless to even think about trying to attack when it was flame against shadow. And fuck were the ones around him loud, screaming from the heat of the witch and there was nothing that Eurion could do to try and help them.

The witch, when they finally took their attention away from Aideen and Caoimhe and leaving a wall of fire in their wake to prevent the older twin from making any sneak attacks when they weren’t looking, aimed at Sláine. They shot one, then two balls of fire to the ground to throw the prince, to have him stumble and drop the shield that wouldn’t have done anything in the first place, and the aimed for the third blow to his chest.

Time stilled and Eurion didn’t think or care as he lunged in front of his prince, pushing him back until he was out of the direct like of attack.

Then the fire hit him.

Direct to his chest, the fire burned. The ringing in his ears was louder than anything else, louder than his own scream. The shadows, his shadows… he couldn’t feel them, there was none of that insisting whispering that was always there, that soft comfort they provided, the way they wrapped around his heart and soul. The loss of them hurt more than the physical blow. He couldn’t feel them. Couldn’t sense any of them. It was a silence that ripped through him louder than the loss.

Eurion fell to his knees, the fire disappearing because it had done what the witch had intended it to do. Aimed to kill.

They were all gone. Every single one that Eurion had ever felt, that connection, he couldn’t find them. The magical loss combined with the physical attack had him screaming and screaming until his lungs burned with the force of it, till he was gasping for whatever air he could drag into them as he clawed at that hole that was left in his chest as if it was somehow going to bring them back. The assassin was dying and he didn’t care about that because his magic had been taken from him as if it were nothing and he didn’t know what to do but scream and sob.

No. No no no no no.

The fire had targeted Sláine. It had pushed at him and his shield, aimed for his chest. He shouldn't be hearing Eurion's screams. He shouldn't be seeing his assassin on the ground screaming himself hoarse and sobbing, clawing at his chest where he had been hit with the searing flames. For a fleeting second, everything slowed down. Sláine couldn't hear anything but Eurion's agony, couldn't see anything but him dying. For just a moment, he refused to believe his own reality.

But then everything came back all at once. Caoimhe let out a ferocious war cry from the other side of the flames. Aideen found another place to hover, and her prince jumped over to her to get out of the fiery blockade. They called out to each other, checking in and fighting for a plan because this was going downhill far too quickly. But Sláine wasn't paying attention to them. He heard it all, cataloged it, but nothing mattered more than his assassin. He knew he was dying, but he refused to believe it.

Sláine unfroze and dropped to the ground by Eurion, suppressing the heat of the fire, removing it from existence with half a thought because Eurion was dying. "Why would you do that?" he asked, his voice breaking. The words were harsh, more of a hiss than a question, but it was fear and anger mixing together to a degree he had never felt before. Ignoring the lingering embers clinging to Eurion's clothes, he pulled his assassin into a desperate embrace to try and keep him there with him. To comfort him in his pain even as he was afraid for him. He wanted to stay more, to verbally comfort him, but he choked on Eurion's screams.

Everything burned.

Eurion didn’t know whether or not it was his soul that was on fire or if it was physical. Air wasn’t getting into his lung fast enough, especially with his cries of agony preventing him from doing so. Distantly he heard Sláine speak but the words didn’t register and his throat burned from his own screams but at least his prince was alive. At least Sláine hasn’t been hurt by the flame. At least he had taken the entire attack.

The fire had been hotter than any other he had ever experienced. It felt as if it had cleaved his soul in two and taken the one thing the assassin thought he would always have. Logically he knew that they weren’t gone forever, he hoped, but right now there was no logic. There was just searing pain and emptiness and Eurion didn’t know what to do with himself except sob and claw at himself to try and bring his shadows back.

Nothing was registering, Sláine pulling him into an embrace was barely registering because he was too focused on the loss to say or do anything else. For someone who was usually so cold, the assassin was burning.

The witch looked smug as they watched the two, their flame crackling at their finger tips ready for another blow the moment that it was necessary, “Someone shouldn’t have got in the way.” They said, examining their fire as if Eurion wasn’t dying in front of them, “Sweet, that he saved your life, Your Highness, too bad he won’t be alive to do it again.”

The prince froze. He didn't need to see the witch to hear how smug they sounded, the delight in their voice that they managed to do such harm, and gloat about how they're going to go after him again now that Eurion was out of the picture. That smug bastard had the gall to be proud while Eurion was dying. He could feel the bond between them slipping away; he was losing his grasp on it, and his assassin in turn. Sláine went numb. Something within him slid out of place, shifted to the side and altered something within him. His eyes slowly lifted to the witch, and the galaxies within them flared like hot embers.

"Caoimhe," he called, voice level and calm, "Aideen. Stay by Eurion." The prince, as they moved to where they were instructed, looked to be a mixture of afraid and eager. Aideen picked afraid.

Sláine didn't care as he stood back up and started walking towards the witch. With each step, whorls of magic twisted around him. They grew from his footsteps, twisted around his body and latched onto the surrounding earth. It was audible, like the screams of the wind even if not a single leaf was disturbed. Closer and closer, he prowled for the witch with no care for the flames. No, his magic pressed against them, batted each dancing flick away before it could get close to him. The prince bared his teeth at the other. "That will be your last mistake." They were Sláine's now. His to destroy. His to erase from the world.

His anger fueled his magic, let it carve into the earth like earthworms. The world changed. Cracks formed within the earth—and within them, endless black nothingness. He would tear apart the world, warp it until it was just him and the witch—until they were no longer. The cracks circled around them until it was just the two of them on one section, and the others farther away. His magic felt his intention—erase—and hungrily circled the witch in the form of ghoulish felines, snapping their jaws and drooling ghostly acid.

Eurion wanted to beg Sláine to stay, to reach for his prince and tell him not to move because their bond was fading just as the assassin was and he didn't want to lose his touch. It was currently the only thing grounding him into some form of reality. Every breath he took ached, every time he dug into his being to try and grasp onto something, just one shadow, however small, he returned with nothing. He was too weak to keep trying, too weak to understand most of what was going on around them. But he felt the ground crack, could hear the anger in his prince's voice as he spoke and separated them.

The witch eyed Sláine, narrowing their gaze at the prince and then quickly shifting them to the cracks in the ground, to the felines that had him entrapped. A flicker of fear passed through their eyes. The prince had just… batted their flames away as if they were nothing. Something had shifted within him, the power that Sláine was using against them wasn't supposed to be happening. They hadn't expected it. When they went for the prince for the first time they had known the Fae would do something reckless to defend him. It was clear that the two had a bond from the way they had protected one another in their circle of flame but now they were beginning to regret it. The Fae was dying and that was what they wanted but whatever bond the prince and the Fae had went deeper than they had expected and now Sláine was looking at them like they were nothing but prey.

"Go on then. Do your worst." It was a bad idea to provoke but if they were going to go down they weren't going to simply give in in defeat. Their own fire encircled their hands and arms, flickering into the form of a shield and a sword but they knew deep down that it was useless.

Back with the others, Eurion was still clutching at his chest. He didn't care how he looked, voice hoarse and face stained with tears. He didn't care what Caoimhe and Aideen may think of him at the moment because nothing mattered but the loss that was ripping through him over and over again. It was then that a near pure, snow-white dove circled above, the only indication that anything was amiss, that it wasn't just a dove, was the specks of soft pink scattered throughout its features. Then it was descending, chirping as loud as it could to the figure that was hurrying through the trees towards the three of them.

Beneath the cool and unfeeling anger coursing through Sláine, that same protective and fearful man was begging to go back and be by Eurion. To protect him from death as if he had the power to do so, to give him comfort and hold him and say it would all be okay. But none of it was. Just a few days, and Eurion had solidified himself into Sláine's life to the point he already couldn't imagine going on without him. It wasn't supposed to be like that. They were supposed to make it to the Fae lands, to have their fun at Skyfall, and slowly explore one another and who they were beyond the bond. The prince's past, the cause of his nightmares—his assassin was supposed to be the first to truly know what they were and why they existed. And Sláine was supposed to protect Eurion from his past and swear to fight for his freedom from the Gods.

They weren't supposed to end from just a fucking arrogant ass witch that wanted a quick snatch at coin. They weren't supposed to be feeling like this. Like Eurion was being torn away from Sláine and taking a part of his soul with him. A blanket of his magic was spared to touch the assassin's cheek, mimicking the weight and feel of the prince's skin. It was the best he could do at the moment, because there was one thing he had to do first before he returned to his partner's side.

Sláine didn't spare the witch any words. The felines shifted into cackling hyenas, and they scampered away with howling laughs when the prince cocked his head. With reality, the very rules of nature could be twisted into something else entirely. Like the sky is green, gravity flows upwards—and the fire of a witch burns the wielder. The prince's magic constricted around their flames, bullying them until they bent to his will. And he stalked closer. And closer. The ever-shifting beasts circled the witch, until they erupted into cackling and howling bursts of magic and wrapped around them, tearing apart the very fabric of their being in a rough, messy, and untrained way.

The prince wanted them gone, so he would make them gone. A sword made its way into his hand, and his grip was white-knuckled. "Fight me, then," he taunted, cocking his head. This wasn't him. But it was. It was just enough. "If you're so big and bad."

With Sláine bending reality to his will and having the fire slowly turning to his control, the witch couldn't help but let panic set into their face when they felt the flames beginning to burn their own hands. That sword and shield of flame vanished up their arms, constricting and wrapping around them just as it had done before only this time it was clear they were in pain. They couldn't fight with the pain, Sláine knew that. Now that the prince had the flames under his control there was nothing the witch could do but try and take control once again.

But it wasn't working. Every time they shook their hands to expel the flame it only grew larger, more aggressive, wrapping around their body as if restraints holding them in place and keeping them solidified to the patch of burnt grass they now stood upon. They couldn't help but cry out, even if their expression was one of anger more than fear. Because even now they were still trying to pretend like they could win this, but the prince's power was too great. Whatever had been unleashed inside of Sláine was stronger than they had anticipated and there was no way they were going to get out alive, not when the prince was pissed off with them for trying to kill their Fae, "Fuck off," They ground out, gasping for air. The heat and the fire were burning through their clothes, searing their skin, "I'll leave you the fuck alone you ass, just let me go!"

They were aware that pleading wasn't going to work, but simply staying quiet didn't seem to be in their nature.

The dove finally landed in Eurion's lap and the assassin knew who it was within moments, even through the pain. He knew that the woman who had snuck by the flames while they had all been distracted and was now closing in on Caoimhe and Aideen, unaware that they were trying to help Eurion, had once again come to try and save his ass. Because her golden glow pushed Sláine's aside even from a distance to let Eurion know that his friend was there.

There was a crack in the prince's cold anger. A flicker of that unwillingness to be so ruthless and destructive. He didn't let up on his magic, but he did close the distance between them and hold the edge of the blade to their throat. "No," he said plainly. That wasn't an option. "You have two choices. Say the word, and I'll let you die swiftly. Fight me, and I tear you from this world until no one will remember you ever existed." And it would be painful, and slow. Sláine was conflicted on if he would actually go through with it. His disconnect with what he was doing and feeling was beginning to wane, leaving him overly aware to a degree he wasn't comfortable with.

But thoughts of Eurion had him going. They should at least feel a fraction of what he had felt—what he was currently feeling. Sláine would kill them either way, but they could at least have the option of how they went out. The world cracked just a little more around them, responding to his barely contained emotions. Off in the distance, a storm brewed where it shouldn't be. His magic burrowed and sparked wherever it could touch, unleashed to its full potential and uncaring of its owner's dislike of being so dangerous and deadly. This wasn't him, but it was at the same time. The two sides threatened to tear him apart, but he held on.

Aideen tried shooing away the dove, but it wasn't happening. Caoimhe was hovering over Eurion and trying to be the comfort his brother couldn't be there to provide, but he knew it wouldn't be sufficient. If he hadn't been paying attention to his twin's magic, he wouldn't have caught the glowing magic showing Sláine's aside, and he whirled around, scythe positioned to protect the assassin. Aideen drew a knife and crouched down with part of her body over him. Even if they didn't get along, she wouldn't let him die on her watch if she could help it.

The witch sneered, head tilting upwards as they felt the blade across their skin, "Kill me then, show your precious Fae why he should have killed you." Because it had been intentional, waiting for the group to finally arrive in the area. If Eurion wasn't going to kill the twins then someone had to, and the Old Gods had weaselled their way into the mind of a witch to try and complete the job that their messenger had failed to do. But once again, their plan had backfired on them. It would have been easier for the princes to die had Sláine not unlocked that part of his magic that was threatening to tear their reality apart, tear them apart, but it went wrong and there was nothing that the Old Gods could do in the present moment.

The woman, the witch, who appeared from the trees had dark skin, with hair longer than the twins in tight curls that spilt out from where she had attempted to tuck some of it away in the hood of her cape. Her purple and red clothes stood out against her skin which seemed to glow with the force of her golden light, wrapping around the wooden staff she held. Her striking gold eyes matched that of her magic and were locked on the assassin who was now cradling the dove in his lap. Well, the dove had pushed its way into his hands to stop Eurion from hurting himself further, but same difference.

As much as Eurion was weak he used one hand to lower Aideen's knife with a softly mumbled, "Friend." Before words became too difficult and the world started to spin around him.

The witch held up a hand as she drew closer, gaze flicking over Caoimhe and Aideen for a brief moment, "Lower your scythe, highness," Her voice was stern, powerful and commanding but with undertones of worry and softness she couldn't hide, "I am a friend."

Why he should have killed you. Sláine should've known the Old Gods were behind this. Suddenly, his rage was not with the fire witch, but the Gods once more. They were nothing but a vessel, a way to punish Eurion and kill the princes in his place. He didn't have time for this. His assassin—his sweet, adorable assassin—was dying, and he needed to go to him. Sláine's magic glittered in his veins, delighted in his newest intentions. It felt like an eager puppy chomping at the bit to show all the tricks it knew. As Sláine raised his sword, it all transferred to the blade until it glowed an autumn rainbow. This would be quick, and easy, and he could get back to Eurion in no time.

"This is for my Fae," he ground out, speaking the words to the Gods that orchestrated this entire thing. Then the blade cut down, sliced into the witch like they were nothing but butter, and his magic flared. It encompassed the entirety of the witch, then started shrinking. And shrinking. Until there was nothing left of the person in front of him. Cut down quickly and painlessly, but erased from the world entirely. Around them, the cracks steadily resealed, and the reality of the world was gently put back together. Sláine refused to let himself catch his breath before making his way back over to his Eurion.

Caoimhe slowly lowered his scythe and backed off, and Aideen reluctantly heeded Eurion's strained word. They were trusting him to know her for now, but they were wary. At this point, strangers were always suspect. "Can you help?" the older prince asked.

The witch didn't even have time to scream before they were vanishing from the world around them. Nothing left bar a few sparks of embers fluttering in the soft wind that eventually vanished, too. No more. The flames around them all disappeared with the death of the witch, leaving little light bar the golden glow from Eurion's friend.

"I am a healer, Caoimhe Mac Arthfael, I can help more than you." She knelt down in front of the assassin, taking his head in her hands. She was clearly aware of who the three of them were but her tone conveyed how she couldn't give two shits about them, "I should have known it would have been you causing all this trouble, you idiot," She mumbled, forcing Eurion's heavy gaze upon her face, "Can't seem to stay out of trouble, can you Eurion?"

The assassin heaved another sob, the dove in his hands peaked at the woman before curling back into Eurion with a soft coo, trying to provide some form of comfort through the pain, "Gone," His words were broken and cut off, soft and unable to speak in full sentences, "Adelphia they- can't-" It was then he felt Sláine, barely, but he could tell his prince was drawing near.

For someone who was usually so cold he was burning up, hot to the touch as if he had a fever. Eurion was trembling and shaking and crying and he knew he was dying but nothing was in focus and everything burned. The loss of his shadows, the fact that he couldn't feel Sláine and the bond as strongly, could sense it growing dimmer as he weakened. He could barely whimper his prince's name, and so the witch, Adelphia, did it for him, turning her head to face the younger prince.

"You're going to have to carry him."

Caoimhe nodded and bowed his head to the woman, submitting Eurion's care to her because she was right—he could do nothing for the assassin. His goal had been to protect him until they could help in some way, and help was here, so he had nothing more to do but worry. Aideen moved to his side for comfort, though her expression was grim. They needed Eurion alive, and for several reasons. He was the only one that could help them get to the Gods, and if he died, the past few days would all be for naught. But a more pressing reason at the moment was the youngest prince.

Sláine dropped down by Eurion to grab a hand, fingers automatically finding the weak pulse within his wrist. Aideen watched him visibly crumble and pray to the Middle that the assassin would be alright. If Eurion died, Sláine would destroy himself. She had no idea what was going on with them, but she knew well enough that there was something, and that something was strong enough to have the prince use his magic in a way that she had only seen her bloodthirsty lover had ever done when on the rampage. Sláine was so slow to anger and had such control over his emotions. Him losing it in an instant was what frightened her the most.

The prince looked up to the newcomer, having not noticed her until now. He nodded without hesitation and positioned himself to Eurion's side, getting ready to hoist him into his arms. He wanted to apologize for the inevitable pain, for the fact that this was parly his fault. If that blaze hadn't been going for him, Eurion wouldn't have gotten hurt. Survivor's guilt, he knew. It was unjustified. But he still felt like he was to blame when he was steadily losing his assassin. Sliding his hands under Eurion's body, Sláine whispered soft reassurances as he carefully hoisted him into his arms. "I've got you," he murmured.

It was as if the world was burning and bringing Eurion down with him from the inside. Moving hurt, even Sláine's touch hurt as he was lifted. For someone of his height and stature, he was probably lighter than he should have been all things considered, but that was the least of everyone's worries. Sláine's reassurances did nothing, they didn't calm him, didn't help him bring any more air into his lungs. The world was spinning and he was falling and not even Sláine could keep him grounded.

Adelphia's magic was cast over the both of them with a simple wave of her staff, the golden light shimmering before settling around them with a focus towards Eurion's chest. It wouldn't numb the pain completely, but it would assist in the prince's strength magically and physically, and it would keep Eurion alive long enough for them to get them all somewhere safe. A place to rest and talk and get to the bottom as to why her friend was with the princes and their guard.

"Come, we must hurry." There was no room for argument as she was already leading the way back into the trees, the direction in which she had come from. The dove stayed with Eurion and Sláine, tilting its head between the two as if working out the connection between them simply from the reactions of the both of them, how Sláine reacted. It was easy to tell they were mates. Maybe it was because Eurion had spoken about what it may be like when he found them because the witch and dove certainly weren't Fae and so the only reason why knew of the mating bond was from the assassin himself. The bird was now perching right over Eurion's heart, settling and resting its head over his skin a moment later with its own, soft pink glow to accompany the golden one.

Eurion was muttering although, through his soft whimpers and tears, he called out for Sláine, for his prince, as if he wasn't in his arms already. A thousand miles away from reality.

Sláine tried being gentle, the pained sounds coming from Eurion stabbing into his heart and twisting like a serrated knife, but he had to hold on tightly to keep the man from the danger of falling or being jostled too much. The prince wanted to whisper apologies, but the woman was ushering them through, and the dove was giving him an odd look, so he kept quiet. The other two gathered their lost things and followed a safe distance back, with the prince holding out his scythe still just in case. Caoimhe wasn't about to be caught off guard again, not when the last few times resulted in Eurion getting gravely wounded and the others scrambling. Aideen kept a careful eye out, ready to call out if she saw something even remotely questionable.

In the trees, Solise hopped from branch to branch, her wings silent between each jump as she followed the group. Sláine's stress channeled to her, their connection allowing her to take the burden off of him. But it also made her care for the assassin, and from what she had observed earlier, she had formed her own sort of affection for Eurion that was entirely one-sided, but it didn't matter that much to her if it was reciprocated or not.

But there was too much of Sláine's warring emotions to completely hold, and the prince steadily broke apart as he listened to Eurion mutter to himself. He was calling out for him as Sláine wasn't right there, holding him to his chest and carrying him as he followed the healer. It hurt even worse to feel their bond slipping, and to think about how Eurion was feeling. Did he think his prince wasn't there with him anymore? Did he think Sláine left him? In a desperate attempt to make his assassin stay with him, he fought to keep a hold of the bond, or what little was left of it. Eurion wasn't going to leave him, not without the prince putting up a fight.

They were lucky it was only a short walk to the cabin that was situated in the middle of the woods. The place was magically hidden away through a glamor that was quickly removed and returned as Adelphia hurried them all inside. For only two people the place was larger than it needed to be, filled with charms, books and potions, other random knick knacks placed on any available space that it could find. Messy, but not disorganised, at least in her mind. When they were safe inside the healer motioned for Sláine to place Eurion on a soft bed of pillows that had been made specifically for this reason- to help the dying. When the assassin was placed securely on the ground the dove reluctantly hopped off his chest and shifted into a small, skinny woman with the same white and soft pink colouring to her hair, delicate features, and a frown that could rival Eurion’s. Although hers was worry over anything.

“Cara, darling, please tend to our guests.” Adelphia removed her cloak and sat cross legged next to Eurion but not before swinging a curtain around the two of them for some privacy. She knew it would go down well with Sláine but she wasn’t going to be able to work with the prince hovering over her shoulder and fretting. She was aware he had good reason, but it would just become a nuisance.

The dove, Cara, turned her back to the curtain and up at the three now standing in her living room, “Right! Hello, your highnesses and Aideen, is it? Yes, of course, please, take a seat, I’m sure you’re all tired and hungry so I’ll get some tea and food for you all.”

The space was large enough to accomodate the living space on one side and the little kitchen on the other, allowing them to talk comfortably and for Cara to tend to the three without having to go to far or move out of earshot. With her partner occupied with Eurion she didn’t want to go too far and leave them be. They were all stressed and worked up and it was definitely not a good idea to leave Sláine alone for the time being.

Sláine didn't want to back away from Eurion. When he set his assassin down onto the pillows, he was intent on sitting on the floor next to him to be there with him. But the woman wasn't having it, and before he could think to do such a thing, she shut a curtain between them and blocked the prince off from being with Eurion. He stood there for a moment, unsure of what to do with himself when his assassin was not within sight, his magic was glittering through his veins and searing him from the inside—something he has yet to notice—and he suddenly couldn't do anything but wait. Not even watch or look over. Just wait.

"I—" he started to say, but his twin gently manhandled him away from the curtain to discourage him from slipping through to be in the way. Sláine protested, heavily, but didn't physically fight his brother and reluctantly abided by his tugs and walked further into the living room to give the healer space. Caoimhe didn't let him go for fear of him slipping away to go back to the assassin, and Aideen stayed on his other side to be yet another obstacle.

Caoimhe smiled at Cara, just a little weary, and glanced over at Aideen, who was inspecting the minimal burns she sustained. "That would be great, thank you," he said. With his diplomat of a brother out of sorts, and Aideen being horrible with communication, he had to be the one to be somewhat civil. "Thank you for showing up and letting us recoup here. And for helping Eurion. We don't have the means to handle something so grave." Sláine's face pinched even more, and his brother shut his trap before he devastated him even more.

Cara waved her hand, swirls of dusty pink making quick work of making all of them a hot cup of tea which she extended to the trio in her living room, "Oh, you don't have to thank us, truly. We've helped Eurion more times than all my feathers combined. Albeit nothing as serious as this but Addie's excellent at what she does."

From behind the curtain, the healer's magic burned brighter, and Eurion's pained noises decreased, his muttering stopped and their bond faltered more. From the way the witch swore softly it wasn't a good sign. This was the entire reason why Adelphia had pulled the curtain around them. Eurion was only going to get worse before he got better and with an injury like this it was going to take a few hours before Sláine would be able to see his assassin again, even in sleep. A few potions and bottles lifted from where they sat and were quick to disappear behind the fabric and out of sight.

Cara turned her back to the curtain, busying herself with making them all a simple dinner. It wouldn't take long to make, which was good because she was just as hungry as she presumed they were, "I know it hurts to not be able to be with him," She continued, directing her words to Sláine even as she didn't look his way, too busy throwing spices together, "That's always the downside to having a mate, when terrible things happen being unable to go to them sometimes. But your mating bond seems far stronger than any I've ever seen so I'm sure it'll be worse for you, but Eurion will be okay, just have to give him some time."

Sláine turned back to the curtain in a panic, feeling his grip on the bond slip and not at all liking the sound of the witch swearing. It couldn't be good. It didn't feel good. Eurion's pain and slow descent only heightened the prince's panic and distress, to the point where he wasn't entirely there because he was so focused on the other man. Caoimhe added more force to his manhandling when his twin fought against him. He had to be there, he had to be next to Eurion because if he wasn't he was afraid something would happen and he wouldn't be able to do anything, not even talk to him.

But he wasn't allowed. Caoimhe forced him into a seat and hovered at his back to be ready for an intervention. But Sláine only hunched over and rested his elbows on his knees, worrying himself to death. "We're not," he automatically started, about to deny their relationship because it was supposed to be a secret, but then Cara's words caught up to him and he froze. What did she just say? Of course, when the word was out there, it made perfect sense. But at the same time, he was rejecting the idea. He couldn't be Eurion's mate, could he? He wasn't even Fae, and the witches didn't have mates. Eurion surely would've known and told him if it were true.

Except it was a once-in-a-lifetime thing, and Eurion had separated himself from the Fae world a long time ago. Would he really have known what a mate bond felt like right off the bat? Is that what he had been intending on researching while in the Fae lands? Confirmation, or getting the answer? Sláine swallowed and asked, voice hoarse from holding back everything he was thinking and feeling in the moment, "What… what did you just say?"

Caoimhe and Aideen cast each other startled looks, though understanding dawned on them as quickly as the surprise did. Mates. No wonder the two were so close so quickly. And Eurion had been asking about witches and mates, and looking a little too upset over some witch practices. If Sláine was really his mate, and with a strong bond as Cara claimed, then it was no wonder Eurion had been so against the idea of witches sleeping with others. Caoimhe silently commended the assassin for undoubtably holding back when it came to their relationship, because if it were him, he would never be able to hide a relationship that important with a bond so innate.

“You know, mates,” Cara waved the spoon she was holding to mix the pot of vegetables and rice in the air before she went back to stirring, “Fae mates? How the Fae are bonded to one person for their whole lives, they’re deemed ‘perfect match?’” She snorted as if it was nothing, like she hadn’t worked it out within a matter of seconds and Sláine had had no clue, “Yours and Eurion is like- super strong, stronger than any others I feel. Maybe it’s because you’re a High Witch or something I don’t know, but either way I know it must be hard for you, I can’t imagine loosing a mate, the pain is supposed to be unmeasurable.”

As if the bond was somehow listening to the conversation, it flickered as bright as it could get in Eurion’s state in confirmation. With the assassin nearly at his end, their mating bond was struggling, Eurion’s pain flickering down the line, reaching for Sláine but never quite being able to feel him, at least on his end.

And then, for the briefest moment, it vanished. That constant burning and reaching for the other simply slipped from the both of them and Adelphia swore. Loudly. Loud enough that it had Cara turning her head with wide eyes because she knew when something had gone wrong. The healers glow burned brighter and brighter and then that too vanished, but then there was an audible sigh and a thankful prayer as the bond returned for the two of them.

The shifter released a breath, separating the meal into multiple bowls before expertly carrying them over to all of them, passing them out one by one, “Eurion has cheated death more times than I know of, your mate is going to be perfectly fine.” She said, having no idea that Sláine had had no clue that was what the bond meant, “When Addie comes out you can go to him.”

Mates. He and Eurion were mates. The prince sat frozen and speechless in his seat while Cara continued chattering, blissfully unaware of the turmoil going through him at the moment. This was too much. Had he learned that—because there was no denying it—at another time, when Eurion wasn't actively dying preferably, he may not've reacted so badly as he was now. But as it was, he was numb from the intensity of his emotions, and it felt as though he was rapidly losing a major part of himself. Behind that curtain, his assassin—his mate—was being pulled under despite Adelphia's efforts. Sláine could feel it. Now that he paid more attention to the bond, he could feel every burn and twisting pain from Eurion. But it also meant he could feel the moment it flared up right before vanishing, like one final call.

Caoimhe noticed his body tense before he even moved a muscle, and shoved Sláine down into the chair forcefully by the shoulder just as Adelphia swore loudly. The intense fear that sliced through the prince was terrifying in its own right. He refused to take his eyes off the curtain, straining against his brother to watch for the glow of the healer because he wasn't allowed anything else. Eurion couldn't be taken away from him; not when the prince just got him. They had promises to each other, everything about one another to explore and learn. He couldn't leave now. Sláine wouldn't survive such a loss.

But the bond flickered back, and Adelphia sighed in relief, and Sláine could settle long enough to mechanically take his food when offered by Cara. He stared down at it, not seeing anything as his thoughts spun. She kept saying that word, and every time he heard that single syllable, the prince fell apart just a little more. Mates. How the fuck had he not thought of that? How the fuck could he learn about that just now when there was a high likelihood of him losing Eurion. How could she just tell him that Eurion would be okay, and that Sláine could see him after everything was settled? He wanted to be there right now.

Aideen and Caoimhe gratefully took the offered food, and the former thief chowed down on hers as quickly as her body would let her. Caoimhe was a little slower, mostly because he wasn't trying to be a slob, and he had his twin to look over. "Thank you," he said, then nudged Sláine to get him to eat. "He's not normally this quiet. I think it's just really overwhelming for him right now. Lots of change and… discoveries." Both his magic and the nature of his bond.

"Oh no, I understand, it's a lot to feel your mate dying. It's why I'm so glad I'm not Fae and neither is Addie, all that loss would be far too much." Cara shook her head, turning back to her counter to serve up another bowl of food for her partner. With a quick swish of her hand the bowls and plates and everything dirty that she had used floated over to the small basin in the corner to be cleaned later, preferably after they had all finished eating rather than just a few of them. At least two of them were eating, Cara was glad about that and didn't take her eyes off Sláine until he took at least one bite.

A few minutes passed and there were only the sounds that rang throughout the small pass were that of Adelphia's muttering and their spoons against the bowls of food. Even Cara was quiet, for once, which was unusual but from how Sláine was currently acting she could feel her partner pressing into her mind to get her to shush. Some more time passed and then the curtain was opening, Adelphia was running a hand through her tangled mess of curls looking far more dishevelled than she had been when they met. She looked spent, and it was probably because she used a lot of her magic on keeping Eurion alive.

She looked to Sláine, "You can see him."

Eurion was alive, barely, but he was alive. The bond flickered, alerting Sláine that he was still there, he wasn't dead, and he would be okay. Addie had removed his shirt in order to get to his heart and chest. There was a serious burn wound that was shimmering with soft golden light, residue from Adelphia's magic. It would take a while to heal but it would. The assassin was unconscious, sleeping. His chest was rising and falling slowly and not often enough but it was just the right amount to keep him alive. His face was tear-stained and his skin was still hot to the touch from the fire, from the loss of the shadows keeping him cold.

The only reason Sláine ate and drank his tea was because of the attention on him. He knew that he needed to take care of himself, but it was all autopilot when he could do nothing but stress over Eurion and every tiny signal from the bond. Maybe he should've done better to compose himself, to put on a front that he cared about the assassin but not to the point that he was steadily fraying at the seams when contain everything he was feeling and thinking. Maybe if he had done better at pretending they weren't so close, he wouldn't have to be told that the man behind that curtain was his mate. That he wasn't so important. And it was a shitty thing to think, but if Cara hadn't picked up on their relationship, then he wouldn't be stressing and worrying even more than he already was.

Time passed slowly. Even when he had picked at his food until it was all gone, Sláine still had time to sit and pray that Eurion would be okay. His heart nearly gave out when Adelphia emerged looking haggard and spent. He remembered to sympathise with her exhaustion, even when everything within him wanted to demand she tell him what was going on. And though her words weren't exactly that, they were as equally as acceptable. And this time, Caoimhe couldn't stop his brother as Sláine jumped from his seat and nearly ran over to Eurion's side.

The prince combed his fingers through Eurion's hair, cupped his face, touched him everywhere that was safe just to remind himself that he was okay for now. Alive. His assassin was alive, and that bond was still there. "I'm here, acushla," he whispered, cupping the man's face once more and uncaring of how warm he was to the touch. "Please be okay. I need you to stay." Sláine bent over Eurion and touched their foreheads together, choking on the lump in his throat. "I need you to stay with me. You promised Skyfall. You can't—you can't leave."

The other two watched from a distance, though Caoimhe's expression was pained. Though the twins held no real bond themselves, it still seemed as though they could feel a flicker of one another's emotions. But even without that, he hated seeing his brother in such a state. Aideen, too, had no words. They hoped that Eurion would be okay, they weren't heartless, but a big motivator for that hope was to avoid the unthinkable reaction Sláine would have. Caoimhe tore his gaze away from his brother and shifted it to the healer. "Thank you, but please rest. You look in need of it."

“I don’t need to be told when I need rest, Caoimhe,” Adelphia placed a soft kiss to her partners head who had made her way to her side with a bowl of the food she had made, the taller woman gladly taking it from her as she sat on a free seat in her living space, “There’s a spare room that the both of you can use. I’m assuming Sláine is going to stay with Eurion, I’ll get some blankets for him soon.” She was well aware that she needed to rest, but right now she was more focused on checking in on her guests than anything else. “Are you both okay? Do you need any ointments for your burns?”

Eurion released a soft breath at Sláine’s touches, even in his state he was leaning into everything that he could get from the man. With the bond secured again, as much as its soft flickering wasn’t nearly as strong as it had been, the assassin was once again aware of who was with him. Adelphia had numbed a little of the pain. It wasn’t enough to keep the immense amount away but it was just enough that, after a few moments, he was squinting his eyes open.

His gaze was hazy and the moment a small flicker of light crossed his eyes he was shutting them again. Eurion was only half conscious, only aware of the pain, of the loss of his shadows, of how as much as Sláine was there he wasn’t there, and he whimpered his name, “Sláine-” It hurt so much, his heart was barely beating, his brain wasn’t working and it felt like he was falling apart just as much as the prince was. Words wouldn’t work, every time he tried to speak the only thing that could escape was quiet sobs and groans of pain and he couldn’t keep his eyes open. Couldn’t think, couldn’t reach up for his prince, couldn’t do anything but slip in and out of consciousness and try and muffle just how much pain he was in. The only ones who would truly know would be Sláine and Adelphia, although he was aware that the others would probably have an idea.

Eurion’s chest burnt, his soul was still on fire no matter what Adelphia had tried to do. She had healed him enough to keep him alive but beyond that? At the moment there was nothing more she could do. There was a gaping hole in his soul from where his shadows should be, where they now weren’t. Even the mating bond couldn’t fill how empty he felt, because that bond was weak and Eurion couldn’t hold onto it long or strong enough to keep himself grounded.

Aideen opened her mouth to answer, but Caoimhe clamped a hand over her mouth and dragged her to his chest. "Yes, she needs some," he said with a sigh. Did he really have to take up the role of caretaker of both his companions? It was ready exhausting. "I could use some too, though not as much. Might want to check on her other form too." He had seen the singed feathers, and wanted to make sure she wasn't missing too many. The shifter glared at nothing, because she couldn't turn her head to glare at her prince. But the burns were starting to hurt now that the adrenaline was wearing off.

Sláine rubbed his thumb over Eurion's cheek with a soft and relieved sob, not quite loud enough for the others to hear. A single tear ran down his cheek and collected on his chin, before falling to hit Eurion's cheek. "I'm right here, baby," he repeated, and grabbed his assassin's hand closest to him. He kissed Eurion's cheek and nuzzled their noses together, doing everything to comfort the both of them as much as he could. His other hand was holding the man's face, tracing circles with his thumb. "I'm right here. I'm not going anywhere."

He didn't want to accidentally hurt him even more by touching him elsewhere, but Sláine knew that Eurion was in immense pain already. Even the magic couldn't do nearly enough to staunch the pain his assassin had to be feeling. But Sláine kept holding him, because he needed it and he wanted Eurion to know that he was right there with him. With a bump of their noses, like they usually did when cuddled together alone, the prince moved even closer. "You're going to be okay. I promise. You're going to live through this, and I know that because you're so strong, and even more stubborn than I am. You're too sweet to be taken by this. The fates wouldn't have the stomach to take your heart away." Another kiss to Eurion's cheek, and another silent tear. "You are going to get through this, I know you can. I believe in you."

He didn't even know if Eurion could understand him, or hear him. But Sláine needed to say the words, needed to at least pretend they were being understood, because he needed Eurion to know that he had someone there waiting for him and in his corner while he fought death.

Where Eurion would have usually reacted to the pet name there was now there was nothing. He could distantly feel his prince's tears falling onto his cheeks, feel their skin touching and Sláine's hands against his face. The only thing he did in response was very slightly tilt his head in Sláine's direction as if trying to encourage the touching more without being able to verbalise or physically pull him the prince against him. Every movement burned, every rise and fall of his chest left a reminder of what was missing from him, and reminded him of the searing pain that filtered through every gasp and sob that echoed softly around them. There was the occasional mutter of Sláine's name, but eventually, they softened into nothing as he drifted back into the realm of darkness that was calling to him.

Death was pricking at his fingertips but didn't take him. As much as it was an overbearing presence that wrapped the two in its unholy embrace, Eurion's chest kept rising, kept falling, and their bond flickered inside the two of them, refusing to go anywhere. It was as if it were trying to pull the assassin out of it, pull him away from death and back to his mate with little luck but a few gentle tugs on the bond. A soft show of defiance from the assassin, trying to show Sláine he was fighting, he was trying.

At Caoimhe's words, Cara perked up a little, "Oh! I can help with that!" It had been a while since she had met or interacted with another shifter, any less another bird and she wouldn't deny she was partially excited about the prospect. The small woman was quick to scurry away and bring back a couple of small containers, one filled with a balm, one with an oil that smelt of roses and warm wood, and the other some general painkilling tablets, "These will help with the burns and pain, make sure to save some for your brother, too, he might need some but I don't think he's in a position to want to tend to himself with Eurion in the state that he is."

Cara handed them to the prince and his lover with a small smile. She may be a chaotic piece of work according to Adelphia but she was helpful and caring when she needed to be, proven in the worry lines etched into her skin that was the only giveaway she was both older than she looked, and worried more than she let on.

If he could, Sláine wouldn't have hesitated to lay down next to Eurion and curl up into his body to provide as much contact as possible. But his assassin was covered in horrible burns, and the move would likely do more harm than good, so he refrained. But Sláine did keep touching, kept holding his face and hand and kissing his cheek, nose, forehead, the back of his hand and knuckles, his palm—he did everything he could to make sure Eurion knew he was there, and to reassure himself that the Fae would be okay, that he was alive and that's what mattered right now. A spike of panic went through him when Eurion stopped calling for him, but the bond remained, keeping them attached just enough for him to know that the prince hadn't lost him. Death would not take this soul. He refused to allow that to happen, even if he didn't know what he could possibly do to prevent it. He had power, but he wasn't a god.

Sláine brushed his fingers over Eurion's lips, the closest he'd allow himself a proper kiss until the man was awake enough to be receptive of it. "I will do better to protect you, acushla. I swear it." This would not happen again.

Aideen rolled her eyes and wiggled her way out of Caoimhe's arms. The prince was reluctant, but she behaved, and he let her go in favor of taking the offered items. "I might have to bully him into taking care of himself. Or do it myself for old time's sake." The destroyed orchard had at least one casualty, no matter how jovial Sláine had been in spite of it. The prince sent his guard a pointed look, and Aideen huffed in annoyance.

"Fine." Slower than usual, Aideen shifted into the magpie and fluttered over to the outstretched hand Caoimhe offered. Her flight was stilted and a little uncoordinated, and as she settled into his index finger, the cause was clear. A good portion of her feathers were lightly singed, not too horrible, just ashy here and there. But some of her tail and wing feathers had been burned into ragged and sooty stubs, her flight to escape only fueling the flames that had gotten a little too close. Her skin was tender, leftovers from the close call after her dive towards the witch.

Caoimhe held her at a height that Cara could reach. "I imagine birds know birds best," he said, and snickered at the vengeful bite to his finger he got.

Cara couldn't help as her smile grew a fraction at the teasing. They may be different species but the premise was always the same. Aideen's feathers would grow back, it was mainly the skin underneath that Cara was worried about. If the feathers had been burned away then the skin underneath would be slightly damaged. Albeit it may not be horrible due to the feathers taking the brunt of the force but that wouldn't prevent any harm at all.

She was gentle in the movements, first placing some of the oil onto her fingertips to gently massage them into Aideen's singed and burnt stumps to help with the regrowth. The oil would dry quickly enough although it would be a bit uncomfortable for a short while, although it would help in the long run. When she was satisfied she had covered all that she needed, double checking by running her fingers through the other's feathers, she moved on to the balm. With one hand she moved the feathers out of the way to get a better look at the skin underneath, finding the parts that had been burnt, even just a little, and rubbing some of the balm into the skin, "I'll leave the balm for all of you, it'll cool and soothe the burns that you all have." Finally, when she was sure that everything had been covered, she closed the cap and handed Caoimhe back the little container so he could use it later, or so he could give it to his brother when Sláine eventually left Eurion's side- if he ever did, at least.

For a short while it seemed that Eurion was sleeping as peacefully as he could manage, with no movements but his breathing to confirm he was still alive. But peace only lasted so long, especially with the assassin and the beings that watched his every move.

The assassin shifted, his head moving to one side and his face contorting into clear discomfort, only this time it wasn't because of his injuries. There was a soft glimmer above his head, and then his discomfort grew and grew. Had Sláine not been there, had he not been injured he would have been tossing, but he couldn't, he just had to lie there and take it because the Gods weren't happy with their messenger.

It would have been inevitable that they show up at some point. Considering they sent a witch after all of them because Eurion was unable to fulfil his task it would have happened at some point. The Old Gods didn't care if he was dying or not, because his mind was being pulled away from him and there wasn't anything he could do to stop it.

Aideen squirmed, not a fan of someone else handling her even if Cara was gentle and knew what she was doing. But slowly, as the other shifter continued working, she got used to it enough that she puffed up her feathers to make it easier to get to her skin. The burns were minimal, but bothersome enough that the balm would be immensely helpful. So even though she huffed and squawked at Caoimhe in annoyance, she let Cara do her thing until everything was taken care of, and she stomped her foot to make the prince bring her up to his horn for her to perch on.

"Thank you," the prince said. He was saying the words a lot, but he truly meant it. They would be in a worse spot if the two witches hadn't shown up, and he had a feeling that Sláine would be a lot harder to handle had Eurion not been able to be saved. Fucking hell—mates. He couldn't even begin to imagine what his twin was feeling at the moment. It had only been a few days, but bonds like that didn't care once they clicked. They were made for one another. No wonder Sláine had stopped looking for partners. If his soul had somehow felt the arrival of his mate, or sensed the time was near, then it made sense he no longer had an interest in finding someone else. But right now, that wasn't important. What was important was the fact that they needed rest, and to tend to their burns, and to pry Sláine away from Eurion long enough to get the salve onto him.

But Sláine wouldn't be having none of that. With his rapt attention on Eurion, it took nothing for him to notice the shift in the man's demeanor. It wasn't some simple pain, he quickly realized, then leaned back just enough to see the growing haze above Eurion's head. The Gods. That boiling rage that had settled into numbness resurfaced, but this time, his head was just a little clearer. The Gods had continuously tortured their messenger, Sláine's assassin. He would not be letting them get away with torturing him some more while he was fighting for his life.

His magic sparked to life, and latched onto that haze, ripping into it with the ferocity of a predator and leaping eagerness. It wasn't quite done yet playing.

Caoimhe turned to summon his brother, just in time to see him rising from his knees and staring determined into a ragged door into a place both princes could feel was forbidden. A place they weren't supposed be able to get to. But Sláine was pissed off and nothing else, and beyond determined. Caoimhe swore colorfully in several languages, and Aideen croaked. "Fuck. Sláine, don't you dare—" His twin cast a single glance his way, then slipped into the narrow rift and let it shut behind him. "—and he's gone. Fuck."

The realm on the other side of the door was the one that Eurion was constantly pulled to, only this time the space had a widely different aura to how it had been a few days ago. That once pure whiteness of the space was dark, cold and unforgiving even for him. The platform that the assassin was knelt on had whisps of what seemed to be some form of electricity crackling around his ankles and wrists to keep him secure, from trying to get to Sláine. Because when that gate opened and the prince stepped through, no matter what state he was in, he wanted to get to him, to stop him because it was entirely a fucking bad thing that he was here, even if he was grateful to see him.

Here, Eurion looked worse due to the fight his consciousness was undergoing with death and now with the Gods pulling his mind away from his already struggling body. He was too weak to fight, and he looked like death, with dark bags under his eyes from exhaustion and pain, how his lip trembled, and air wasn't being pulled into his lungs fast enough. Vulnerable and at the mercy of the Gods. He looked to Sláine when he saw, felt him come through, panic setting in far quicker than it had done before. He shouldn't be here, couldn't. It was supposed to be impossible and in the back of his mind confusion danced through his thoughts, "Sláine-" Eurion whimpered, but those binds just tightened to tell him to keep quiet.

Where there was usually a blank space above them now was occupied by three forms. Two of which looked humanoid in some way, the other was larger and more of just a form than anything - Xirus, he knew. The other two? Lunrae and Desri, life and death and neither of them looked happy.

“His highness should not be here,” Lunrae’s voice was melodic as she spoke although whatever eyes she may have had narrowed, her form shifting to draw closer to the prince, “You have no right to be here, this is neither your realm or your business.”

Sláine marched through the Gods' realm, too enraged to appreciate the accomplishment or even take in his surroundings. He had eyes for Eurion only, the electric binds keeping him still and silent—then the Gods hovering above him. The prince's expression softened a fraction when he looked to Eurion, aching at the sight of how close to death he looked and the broken whimper of the prince's name on his tongue. But that softness shuttered away into fury as he prowled closer to them.

Magic swirled around his body, just like when he had fought the fire witch. It crackled and attached to the ground as he made his way across the floor, then let go when he got too far away. He was surrounded by a glow of autumn-esque colors, of transparent leaves, and the sunspot freckles across his face even glowed from the intensity of his emotions and magic. From the swirling ribbons and leaves, a staff formed in his hand. Blunt, not really meant to cause much harm, because he knew he couldn't harm the Gods themselves. But that didn't stop him from snarling at the one approaching and holding the weapon out at her.

"I don't fucking care," Sláine snapped, "Leave him the fuck alone." It was most certainly his business. It had become his business the second he saw how they treated their messenger. They were not deities to follow. The others had died out for a reason, he imagined, and left the witches in their stead to keep the balance of the world. These Gods were nothing more than arrogant dust mites clinging to whatever power they could scrape by with, like co-dependent parents scrambling when their children finally leave for better things. There were other gods in the world, younger and better deities to follow and look up to. But the Old Gods? They had overstayed their welcome, and gotten drunk on the thrill of torturing Eurion.

The prince couldn't hurt them, at least not right now. But he sure as hell could fight them, or even simply break some things.