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

Started March 15, 2023 by @ElderGod-kirky group

tune

Before Sláine could get too close to his mate there was a shimmer that was cast from the goddess of life, a near invisible wall between the two to stop the prince from marching over to Eurion and dragging him away. The Gods, though, were concerned as to how the prince had managed to rip through their hazy door and to their realm. No one was supposed to be here apart from them and Eurion on the occasion when they dragged his mind through, and they were almost concerned as to whether Sláine would be able to return. But not concerned enough, because right now they were pissed and it didn’t matter how the prince got there, just that Eurion, and Sláine, were taught a lesson.

This time it was the God of Death that spoke, his voice was deep and sounded more like thunder than anything else, “Eurion is not yours, nor do you have the power to tell us what we should or should not be doing with our messenger.”

Xirus, in their strange form moved closer to Eurion. The assassin couldn’t hide his fear as the god drew near. It was always them, always Xirus that tortured him the most. They would leave the talking to life and death, but them? No, they would make sure Eurion was dealt with correctly.

Neither the assassin or the prince could stop the god from extending a shadowy arm that latched onto the top of Eurion’s head, and the assassin couldn’t help but beg for Xirus to stop. He’d been in the position far too many times, knew exactly what was coming- all the twisted memories, the visions of death and pain that he had caused. Eurion didn’t know what he had actually done or what was fake because they all blended together, the emotional torture, and the god made sure that the memories he was shown in the present moment blended well enough from Eurion to be unable to do anything by beg and sob and apologise.

“Eurion should have killed you back at the palace,” Lunrae twisted her form around the prince before settling a safe distance away from him, “And you killed the witch who was supposed to finish the job considering our assassin is incapable of following orders. Clearly, Eurion needs another reminder of who he works for, and so do you.” Because they didn’t care if they were mates, Eurion was, in their mind, theirs, and not Sláine’s.

Sláine shoved at the invisible wall separating him from Eurion, keeping him from taking his assassin away and back to where his mind belonged—untainted, safely back home and unharmed. The staff disappeared with just a toss of his hand, and he shoved again as if he could physically push through it to get to Eurion. But he couldn't jump to him, the realm was different from the others, the rules askew. And he didn't know what the Gods would do if he tried.

"He is more mine than he's yours," the prince argued, teeth still bared as if he could get to them and tear apart their throats, just like his twin loved to do. But he couldn't. He couldn't do anything but watch helplessly as the formless God approached Eurion, and his precious assassin was begging already. "Eurion," he called, voice taking on a higher note of panic. No no no. Sláine shoved again, then again, each getting harder and more aggressive against the wall. What were they doing to him? Panic mixed with anger in a twisted bowl, until it came up with a dangerous mix of unchecked fury. Eurion's pleas and cries only fueled him on, the pain slicing through him just egging him on to get his hands on at least one God to prove he wasn't just some little kid in need of a punishment.

His fist came down on the wall in a heavy slam. "You are not my Gods," Sláine snarled at Lunrae. "I do not serve you, and you are delusional to think that I would not defend me and mine against an enemy when I have spent my life doing as such." Another heavy slam, with a thunderous spark of magic spiderwebbing out from beneath his fist. "It is your stupidity that has kept me alive." Because who were they to assume he would not fight back against a witch trying to kill him and his family? To just take it with no fight? Punishing Eurion for Sláine's kill was nothing short of torture with no cause. It was them that fell short.

When Sláine’s fist hit the wall and his magic sparked, the smallest crack appeared, sparking out from where the prince had made contact. It wasn’t a lot, but it was a sign that it was doing something. The world around them darkened with the realisation. Even Lunrae, life itself, seemed to darken as she noted the crack. This was why they wanted Sláine and Caoimhe dead. Their power was far too similar to their own, even if they didn’t know it. They were the closest things to Gods, and it was why they needed them dead. So when, if, Eurion was able to bring them back they wouldn’t be a threat. They would be able to control once more without worrying about whether or not the twins would fight against them.

“Eurion Beddoe belongs to us, Sláine,” The goddess continued. Desri moved to join Xirus, his own arm extending to latch onto Eurion, “You weren’t even alive when we got to him. Your claim over our messenger means nothing.” Although it did, as much as they refused to see it.

On the other side of the wall, the electric shackles that had held Eurion down had vanished as the assassin had double over, head in his hands as if trying to get the Gods out of his mind. With death now latched onto him a soft bubble extended upwards so the prince could see what Eurion was currently seeing. Images and visions of violet murders, his own loved ones, dying at his hand- fake, of course, but designed to keep him in line. Because with all the memories and all the pain that he saw, the physical torture of himself, of Sláine, it was hard to differentiate between reality and false visions created by the gods. It was only there for a moment before it vanished. They wanted to know what the assassin was seeing, why he was hunched over, but as they continued with their fake scenarios, they did not want the prince to see, just the assassin’s reaction.

“How do you think Eurion would feel if he was shown what you did to that witch?” Lunrae mused, her form shimmering behind the prince, “If he saw you kill him the way you did, bending reality and taking them out of the world. I wonder who that would remind him of.”

Sláine didn't notice the crack, too consumed with his anger and watching Eurion, feeling like he was tearing apart as he watched and couldn't do anything. His magic spilled out in a desperate attempt to help him, searching for any way it could reach Eurion. The crack let in some, but not nearly enough for it to be noticable—or effective. But it went to the assassin and wrapped around a finger, just a miniscule string pouring out as much comfort as it could.

"Time means nothing," he shot back, though his eyes were staying glued to Eurion as he assaulted the wall again and again. He was pretty sure his hands would become raw and bloody if he didn't stop—and he was physically there, so it would remain—but he didn't care. He had to get to Eurion, especially when he got a glimpse of what the Gods were torturing him with. Both fists hit the wall with a yell. "You of all people should know time is nothing. It is not linear, and it can change. Fate overrules everything, including you." The washed up has-been Gods refusing to follow in the footsteps of their fellow Old Gods.

The lies. They were feeding him lies. His blood ran cold when the threat of showing Eurion how Sláine had killed the witch. He wasn't proud of that moment, he had had many thoughts that weren't his own, but he had made it as painless as possible. The witch died before being erased. He had given them a choice and they chose not to make one, so he picked the one that was easier on his conscious. Sláine snarled at them and threw his magic at the wall, a torrent of leaves and ribbons and rivers. "Don't you fucking dare," he demanded, though to him it felt more like a plea. Eurion wouldn't know, though. And what was stopping them from twisting the truth, exaggerating the pain he had caused, when the witch had hurt them first, nearly killed Eurion.

They were going to do it, though. They wouldn't listen to him, because they were arrogant and saw no wrong within themselves. "I am nothing like you," Sláine said. He wasn't a monster like them.

"Oh but you are, Sláine Mac Arthfael, you are more like us than you dare to believe." Had Lunrae had hands, they would have been placed on the prince's shoulders. Her touch was faint and for someone who was supposed to be the goddess of life, there was nothing warm or life-giving about her. Just cold and unfeeling, as all the Old Gods were, "Bending realities, it's something a god would do, and the way you took that witch out of yours?" She tutted.

Because then Eurion was pleading harder, the hold that the other two gods had on him seemed to increase, like leeches feasting on the pain and torment they were creating from the assassin. Eurion hadn't seen how Sláine had killed the witch, he had been in too much pain to focus or be able to see what his prince had done. So when he was being shown Sláine tearing about the witch using his magic, torturing them slowly and looking as if he was enjoying it? He didn't know it was a twisted version of the truth. Of how his prince had supposedly taken his time, and caused as much pain as he possibly could in the time that they had available. To make matters worse, the gods twisted the face of the witch into Eurion's, making him watch as Sláine tore him apart instead, feeling everything that the witch felt in the moment. Logically, he knew that it wasn't real. That that part of the vision wasn't real but the pain that came with it certainly was, and it felt far too similar to how the Gods treated him for logic to make any sense. Not when he was reliving his own injury but the fire was coming from Sláine's hand instead and his prince's magic that had slipped through that wall did nothing but drive the fear.

Eurion couldn't do anything but beg and plead for them to stop, to apologise over and over for not doing as he was told the first time around, not killing Sláine and Caoimhe when he had the opportunity. Xirus was whispering in his ear as they always did, feeding more lies into his head.

After what felt like an excruciatingly long time, Xirus and Desri pulled away, leaving Eurion still hunched over and sobbing. That wall disappeared between them, "Go on then, go see your precious mate."

When the goddess got too close to him for his comfort, Sláine lashed out at her to keep her away from him, his rage and panic twisting his expression into something feral. "I am blessed by an entity more powerful and separate from you; my abilities are not yours to claim as kin." Because the Middle did not need to be believed in or messengers to do its bidding. It existed because it was needed, and though it may be in danger at the moment, it would not fade away out of existence. If it did, there would be no one left to worry about that.

But that, at that moment, wasn't Sláine's biggest worry. The prince whirled back over to the wall and yelled for Eurion, unable to reach him to help, slowly dying inside every second he endured his assassin's screams and cries. No. No. He hadn't wanted Eurion to know what he had done. It was not a moment he ever wanted to revisit or have Eurion experience. He had gone numb, consumed by the knowledge that the man he cared for so deeply was going to die. And the Gods were showing him that. What else were they showing him? What else did they twist into their messenger's mind to torture him, to make him scream like that? Sláine crumpled to the ground, searing pain striking through his heart, and fruitlessly clawed at the wall to just let him through. Bloody streaks were left in his wake, suspended in the air by nothing but a slight shimmer of magic. He screamed in his mother tongue to let Eurion go, to stop hurting him, stop killing him from the inside. Cruel. They were nothing but cruel, and it sickened him to think that they were whispering his similarity to them in his assassin's ear. Would he believe them? Would he hold out the hope that his prince wasn't like them? Magic or not, he didn't have the blackened and lifeless hearts that they held within their chests, if they had hearts at all.

Sláine didn't listen to the God that spoke to him when the wall fell. The second he stopped meeting resistance, he scrambled to his feet to run towards Eurion, magic crackling and lashing out at any God that got just a little too close to the two of them. He fell to his knees again in front of Eurion, cupped the man's face in his hands. His eyes were wild and desperate, pained because of his mate's pain, terrified because of his mate's terror. His voice trembled as he whispered a single word. "Acushla."

Eurion flinched. The assassin visibly flinched away from Sláine when the prince touched him. All he could think about, all he could see was the man who had tortured that witch, and then him, seen the rage within Sláine as he had torn them apart and when he looked at the prince now, no matter how soft and scared the other looked, Eurion couldn’t stop seeing and thinking and feeling what it was like. He hadn’t wanted to believe what the gods when they had whispered in his ear, but then they had shown him what the prince had done, the pain that he had put them through. Not a quick death, not a nice death and one that Eurion had hoped he would never have to see his prince inflict on another.

Currently, in his broken mind, there was no difference between his prince and the gods. Sláine had done what they had, had tortured just as they did and as he was touched by him, as he brought his gaze up to meet his, there was nothing but pure, unfiltered fear in his own. He was so tired. He was fighting death and was inches away and now he had to deal with the knowledge of what Sláine had done. He didn’t want to be scared of his mate, distantly that bond called, screamed at him to think clearly and stop being so fucking stupid as to believe the gods and what he had seen but he couldn’t. He couldn’t think clearly, couldn’t think about anything other than those memories and visions and how much pain he had felt. It translated into the broken sob, “Please- please leave.”

He didn’t want to stay with the gods, but right now Eurion didn’t want to stay with Sláine, either. His body was dying and so was his mind but maybe that was better than the pain that he was currently experiencing. They were no better than each other, there was no difference. There was no logic in his thoughts and Eurion couldn’t help but reach up with a shaky hand to bat Sláine away from his face. Maybe he could stay here for a while, just a few more moments. Maybe the gods would let his mind rest here for just a few more minutes.

Something broke within Sláine.

Not like the time when Eurion had been struck, and his magic had lashed out. No, it felt like he had been broken in half, and he lost a part of himself. His assassin—the man that had always pressed so tightly to the prince, clung to him at every chance, smiled and laughed and held him so affectionately—flinched. Eurion flinched at Sláine's touched, stared at him with so much fear, that the prince could've been just one of the gods that had tormented him for his entire life. Like everything fell away into dust in just that moment, because of what Sláine had done. The bond between them was still there, now made clearer to the prince than it had been just hours ago, but it may as well not be with how Eurion was looking at Sláine. Monster. What had he done?

Sláine pulled away, magic and everything and sat back onto his heels with his lips parted. He couldn't feel the single tear that rolled down his cheek. Why did it feel like it was over? Instinct screamed at him to do as Eurion requested, to do at least something right and respect the orders of his assassin, but he couldn't. Not in good conscious. Eurion wanted him to leave, to leave him to the mercy of the Old Gods, but Sláine couldn't do that. He didn't trust them to bring him his assassin back alive. So he chose to disobey, no matter how much he hated it. "I'm sorry," he whispered, and his voice broke off.

His magic swelled again, creating his own walls to protect them from the Gods long enough for them to leave. Sláine tore through the restraints holding Eurion down, ignoring the pain of it shooting through his arms, and gathered the assassin into his arms. He would take him away, bring his conscious back. And before Eurion could fight against him, or the Gods could break through his all-or-nothing protection, Sláine stood and forcefully dragged Eurion away, tearing open a doorway back to their world that he would tumble through, and Eurion would be mentally freed from. Not permanently, but at least for now.

No. No. Eurion wanted to scream and fight against Sláine, get him to leave him there because he didn’t want to go back. He didn’t want to deal with anything. He wanted to stay and scream until he had no voice and cry until he had no tears. At least here he couldn’t had to deal with the mental shit. Back there he had to deal with physically recovering as well, and no matter Adelphia was able to heal him there was still the loss of his magic both physically and emotionally to deal with and he wasn’t strong enough right now. Couldn’t think logically enough to know that he was alive, he would be okay, his magic would return eventually because it wasn’t entirely gone even if it felt like that.

Lunrae seemed like she was going to press on, keep talking or push against Sláine’s magic but Xirus held her back in some form, letting the two go from their realm and back into their own. The faceless god seemed to hum. They knew that Eurion, no matter how terrified he was of Sláine in the moment, wasn’t going to kill him, or Caoimhe. What they did know, however, was their messenger would still follow on with their second task, with finding the markerstones. If Eurion wasn’t going to kill the princes then they would have to do it themselves. But here, in their realm, they weren’t strong enough. They had to wait, Xirus knew, until Eurion brought them back into their correct reality to finish the job themselves.

When Eurion’s mind went tumbling through the rift Sláine had opened, no matter how weak or in pain his body currently was, he shot up quicker than he should have, out of breath, terrified, and in so much pain. But the physical pain wasn’t what he was focused on, no matter how much his body scream at him to lie down, to rest, his mind was on Sláine.

When he looked over at the prince- at his prince- he could only picture the other killing in a way that made him a god. Only feel everything he had gone through back in the gods realm. The bond screamed. Sláine was his mate and he shouldn’t be fearing him, shouldn’t be wanting to move away and hide and the bond knew, it knew what Eurion had seen was wrong but his brain didn’t.

Adelphia was quick to shoot up when Sláine returned, Cara was quick to shift and land in her friends lap while the healer was soft but firm with her words when she laid a hand on Sláine’s back, “Come, Sláine, we have much to discuss and Eurion needs rest.” When she had managed to pull Sláine away she shut the curtain. Now wasn’t a good time for either of them, she could tell that much.

Sláine had a hard time reorienting himself, body and mind unused to travel between those two particular worlds. But despite that, he still scrambled away from Eurion and didn't look at him, as if his mere attention would send Eurion spiraling into terror. His body was weak, he just now realized his hands were torn to pieces from him fighting against the Gods' magic, aftershocks from all the magical usage jolted through his system and left him shaking in fits, and he couldn't breathe. He couldn't breathe or think or do anything. Eurion hated him. His system wasn't reacting well to the travel. Eurion feared him. He needed air. Eurion. Adelphia guiding the prince away was hardly noticed, but when the curtain closed he fought off her touch and stumbled away from her. "No—"

Just as quickly as the two witches had reacted, Caoimhe shot over to his twin. Sláine saw him coming and collapsed into his brother's chest, burying himself away and clinging to him with a death grip. Caoimhe engulfed him in his arms, propped his chin on Sláine's head and soothed him with gentle shushes. "Now isn't the time," he told Adelphia, and followed his brother to the floor when the other lost his balance, body trembling.

Sláine breathed in his brother's scent, clung to his twin like they once did when they were children, like he had done time and time again when he had been beaten bloody by the king and terrified of it happening again. Images of Eurion's screams, his cries and desperate begging for it to stop, played in the prince's mind on repeat. He couldn't get it out of his head. That flinch, the utter terror at being just touched by Sláine. The panic and utter uselessness he had felt watching everything happen before him. He was supposed to protect Eurion, supposed to keep him safe. But the Gods had played him like a child and only used him as a weapon against the one person that he cared so much about. Over and over again, until he could see and recall nothing but that paralyzing feeling. He hid away into his twin, like he had regressed into nothing but a pathetic child, and sobbed.

Caoimhe gently shushed Sláine, burying his face in his brother's hair and crushing him into his chest to try and squash the sound of him crying. Sláine wouldn't want the others to see. Aideen had fluttered away from Caoimhe's horns and perched on the back of one of the chairs to give the twins space. Silted hiccups, soft gasps for air that he struggled to take in, interrupted Sláine's sobs. His lungs weren't working. "Breathe, chroidhe dhom," Caoimhe begged. "Breathe for me."

His twin sucked in a breath, got enough air to whisper, "I—he's terrified of me. I can't—he's gone." It didn't matter that things could get better. Sláine wasn't thinking that much into it. All he knew was the crack in his soul and the shredded remains within his chest. How could Eurion change his mind when he had looked at the prince like that?

Adelphia was ready to protest. She had seen Sláine’s hands, the blood and the injuries he had sustained and it was her job to help, but right now Sláine needed his twin, and so she left the two be, hurrying around the curtain to see her friend instead.

Around the other side, Cara was being held against the assassin’s chest, the small dove was trying to help comfort her friend as much as she could but nothing would help. What Eurion needed was his mate, but he refused to let Sláine get anywhere near him. When those hands touched him all Eurion could relieve was that moment where the prince had torn the witch to shreds, made them disappear from this world as if they were nothing but dust gathering on a window sill. And then to watch his prince do the same to him, to feel as if he was reliving that moment but instead of the witch it had been the assassin dying at the hands of his mate? It terrified him, knowing that Sláine was capable of such a thing, of such power, knowing that the prince could direct it at him.

The healer had had time to recoup just a little and when she came round she was quick to join Cara in comforting their friend, wrapping her arms around Eurion and letting him sink into her just like every other time the gods had pulled the same bullshit on him. Adelphia knew, she always did, when it was bad enough, when Eurion’s mind was at play and being manipulated. She’d been witness to the event more times than she would like and every time it broke her to see her friend, the man who had helped her and Cara, saved them on multiple occasions, not being able to tell truth from lies. Because Adelphia didn’t know how much of what Eurion knew to be true of his past, of who he was, was either a lie or reality. She didn’t have the power to fix that, but she could comfort, and she would do the same for Sláine when eventually she was able to talk to him and explain, maybe, that things could be fixed between them.

But the healer was aware that the more she told Sláine of what the gods had done to the assassin would only fuel the rage and the sadness in him, and right now the prince was unaware that they would be okay because their mating bond was stronger than that of the gods manipulation, no matter what they thought. Nothing, not even the gods and their twisted lies, would be able to keep them apart. She knew more of their bond than they did themselves, probably. Adelphia wanted to give Sláine hope, he needed it, they all did.

Even when Eurion eventually passed out from exhaustion the witch didn’t leave his side for a while, using some of her magic to heal that chest wound, to stop the fever. Only when Cara was passed out on top of the assassin, still curled in his arms, did she leave them be to return to the others.

Sláine stayed curled in Caoimhe's arms, crying all the overwhelming emotions out of his system from the past few hours. It was too much. And he fucking hated it because he felt no different from when he was a child, the worst times in his life. Pathetic. Weak. Stupid. Incapable of anything. Because he was. He had been incapable of protecting Eurion from the Gods. If anything, he had been successful in one thing, and that was making the situation entirely worse for his assassin. Would they have been kinder had he not gone in? Would he still be able to touch Eurion, because they didn't feel the need to punish the prince with making Eurion afraid of him? Would Eurion only be subjected to the usual, even if it was bad, not nearly as bad as just then. What ifs and questions swirled through the prince's mind along with the flashing images, and it didn't help his state of mind at all.

Caoimhe whispered soft Gaelic to his twin, desperate to get his baby brother to stop crying, to make him not let out those heart wrenching sobs. He knew it wasn't just what Sláine had just witnessed in the Gods' realm. He would've been distraught if his words were anything to go by, but he wouldn't have been crying. Not with an audience. He would've held it together, even if he became a ghost within the house. But this? This was an amalgamation of everything that had happened. Like his burst of magic had been a high he was riding, his anger making him soar even higher, and now he was crashing hard. Caoimhe hated seeing it. It tore at his heart. His twin had always been the softer one. Kind of heart. But over the years, he had learned to put a fortress around it. It would seem that fortress got torn down.

He glanced up at Adelphia approaching, and then saw Aideen did as well. He glared at his lover, knowing she wanted to take advantage of the moment to get some information out of Sláine. Because even in her state of being a bird, she looked pissed off.

Thankfully, though, Solise popped in behind Aideen and batted the magpie away, then took off into flight towards the curtain. Her care towards the assassin stemmed from Sláine, just as the aura she gave off reflected his. But she was still her own entity, and perhaps her presence with the assassin could simulate his mate enough that it helped, but not so much that he reacted badly. The spirit glided around the curtain, pushed off the wall once she skirted past, and silently landed on her paws next to Eurion. The dove was still there, and Solise puffed her fur some in annoyance, long ears pinned back. But no matter. She padded over to the assassin and nudged his side with her nose, testing the waters.

The presence of Solise had Eurion stirring, had Cara stirring at the presence of something larger than she was. She was awake in an instant, the overprotectiveness shining through in how she ruffled her feathers and puffed up, trying to make herself bigger. She didn't know what Solise was, didn't know how Eurion was going to react and so she was going to do her best to make sure her best friend was safe. Even if she was a small bird in comparison.

Then the thing was nudging Eurion and the assassin was stirring more. The magical entity had him cracking an eye open, finding Cara puffed up on his chest and Solise nudging his side. For a moment, he panicked. His breathing picked up and his eyes widened but the presence was… comforting. It felt safe, the way Sláine's magic had done for him, should be doing to him now. Any form of unknown magic at the moment was terrifying but the way Solise was gentle, and cautious with him, Eurion, as much as he was confused about what she was, knew that Solise was a friend. Solise was safe. Her magic wasn't Sláine's. It wasn't the same. She was safe. It felt different as much as the prince was connected to the entity. They were connected but their magic was different enough to have Eurion relaxing. He was exhausted. He didn't want to fight it and as much as he wanted to deny it, the creature was easing some of the stress and fear.

When Cara saw her friend relaxing, moving an arm to invite Solise closer, whether or not she wanted to lay on his chest or under his arm he didn't care, but it was as much as he could do along with a softly muttered, "Be nice, Cara." Before he was closing his eyes again.

The dove cooed and if she could have put her hands on her hips she would have but the shifter relented and moved over, cuddling into the cook of Eurion's neck so Solise had room to move wherever she pleased. She eyed the other for a moment but even she could tell that if Eurion was letting the other close, then he wasn't afraid enough to yell or scream or call for someone to get them away. So, Cara relaxed again, tilting her head in another soft invite to Solise.

Solise wiggled her nose against Eurion's side, scenting him to make sure he wasn't uncomfortably close to death, but also to be as unthreatening as possible to the dove seemingly trying to intimidate her away from the assassin. Her size didn't help her case, but Eurion must not see her as a threat, as he told the dove to be nice and opened space for the spirit to rest against him. Taking the invitation, the spirit nuzzled underneath Eurion's arm, slinky like a cat, and settled herself on top of the man's chest to provide warmth and gentle purrs, chin propped on a fold of fat and fur bunched up at her chest from how she sat. Her tail, still underneath the assassin's arm, curled around the limb with the feathers at the end swaying softly from side to side. She had hoped they would meet under better circumstances, but they had time to properly meet again when Eurion was healed. For now, this would have to do.

The others couldn't see them, the assassin being comforted by the shifter and spirit, but Sláine could feel the signals Solise was sending him. That connection they had allowed him to feel his assassin's heartbeat that echoed beneath her paw, the warmth of his body, the lessened stress physically felt beneath her. It calmed him some, as she had hoped—but his sobs only turned silent. Tears still poured down his cheeks and soaked into his brother's shirt, drenching the fabric until it clung to Caoimhe's skin. Neither brother moved or cared about that, but Sláine tried so hard to pull himself together. He was so fucking pathetic breaking down like that.

In Gaelic, Caoimhe whispered old lullabies in Sláine's ear. Old songs he had memorized to appease his mother, put to use when he found out the rhythmic poetry could calm his twin. Not emotionally, but physically. Slowly, the younger prince's breathing evened out with a hiccup here and there, and his grip on Caoimhe tightened, less weak and not as shaking. Tremors still shot through him, but those had nothing to do with his emotional state. A minute ticked by, then two. Sláine stayed buried beneath his brother's chin, ashamed and wrung out, and too cowardly to face Adelphia, who he knew was hovering above. Or even Aideen, who had hopped away in a huff after Solise nearly batted her off the table.

There were bloodstains on Caoimhe's clothing. Sláine's muscles spasmed and constricted at random along with the tremors. The healer could easily pick those things out, even if they had no singular discernible cause. All the prince wanted to do was hide away, to turn the clock back to when he hadn't tried protecting Eurion. But he couldn't, so instead he wanted to give his assassin one last courtesy and not subject him to the prince's presence, even if they were in the same house. "Tha eagal orm a bhith beò," Sláine whispered to his twin.

Caoimhe had heard them before. So many times in their childhood. He knew what his twin was looking for. "Cuiridh na reultan fàilte ort dhachaigh." Dancing on the rim of something he never wanted to think about, but Sláine had never taken the offering. Perhaps his brother had simply found comfort in the knowledge that he had a place to look up to, a place of peace and rest. Or maybe there was another reason, one that Caoimhe couldn't figure out. But either way, Sláine calmed more and sucked in a deep, unsteady breath.

The purrs and the comfort that Solise gave off, combined with the soft rumbling of Cara by his ear, the assassin was quick to fall once again into a dreamless state. Adelphia’s magic had healed the physical wound to a point where it was going to being healing by itself over night, slow and steady as the witch had increased the healing processes. As much as she was exhausted, it was more important to her that her friend, and her friends mate, were healing at least some.

The witch was hovering nearby, making some more herbal tea for all of them. Sláine needed it the most, and she hoped that the imbued herbs would calm, would allow her some time to talk to the prince.

And so, as she waited until Sláine pulled Caoimhe, all Adelphia could do was sit and wait and think about what she was going to say, how she was going to start. The mating bond would always pul the two together unless rejected, and as much as Eurion was afraid in the present moment he was going to do anything of that nature. He had waited too long, lost too much hope, to reject it, no matter the fear he couldn’t seem to escape.

It was always the worst the first few days. Eurion had never been able to tell reality from dream and lie from truth for days afterwards and so she knew it would take time. Knew the assassin wouldn’t sleep much unless necessary and spend hours mumbling to himself to try and sort through the mess of thoughts. At least this time, Adelphia hoped, he would have someone to ground him, whether that was Caoimhe or Aideen, to help sort through them. Cara and her had been those people when it had come to the incident with his parents, and Adelphia hoped that if she could explain that Eurion had at least somewhat, become less afraid of those lies, he could do the same with Sláine.

As Solise made herself comfortable providing some form of comfort to Eurion in her witch's stead, Sláine made himself calm down enough to talk to Adelphia. He could feel her hovering, feel his brother shifting and watching her as she moved about, ready to spring into action if anyone bothered them or tried pulling Sláine away before he was ready. The panic was still there, but the attack it had caused on his mind and system was slowly fading away, and he could breathe easier with his twin at his side.

Sláine eventually pulled away, but as Caoimhe stood and pulled him to his feet, they kept their hands locked. The eldest brought him to the kitchen to join Adelphia where she was making the tea, and Sláine leaned on Caoimhe's shoulder for added comfort. Now that he had once had Eurion to lean into, to hold his face and demand to know what was bothering him, it wasn't the same. But the bond the twins held was entirely different, and though it wasn't the same as the mating bond, it was still powerful in its own right. They had been together since the womb, identical and intertwined with their lives. Nothing could quite replicate the soothing nature a twin could have on the other, how a lack of words didn't mean a lack of help, but rather a knowledge that presence alone could do so much more. Sláine missed Eurion's touch and affection, he doubted he would stop missing it, but it had been too long since he had once sought out his older brother for support.

"Talk to her," Caoimhe softly ordered his brother. Sláine blinked absently, but did look to Adelphia. The prince looked utterly wrecked. His rage, his sudden crash of emotions, and Eurion's touch to death had destroyed him to the brink of total collapse. He needed rest. So much more than what he had gotten while they stopped for him. At this rate, he might not even dream, he was so exhausted. Seiger wouldn't dare haunt his dreams, it would do nothing of benefit. It was silly to think like that, though, because the man was not really in charge of the prince's nightmares, just a visual player. But Sláine just wanted to go to sleep, maybe never wake up until Eurion told him he wasn't terrifying or cruel like the Gods.

"How long?" How long had they been doing this to his assassin? How much pain had they caused Eurion? Sláine's pain didn't matter. Even now, when he was so sure Eurion hated him, his own pain was second to the assassin's. He didn't think to ask the healer to tend to him. The prince was so used to going along with the pain that it hardly registered.

Adelphia stirred the tea gently, the sound of the metal hitting the side of the mug ringing a little too loudly throughout the quiet space. Once all the herbs had dissolved or at least majority of them, she was slow and gentle when she handed the mugs to the twins. Caoimhe’s first, and then Sláine’s. While the prince’s hand was close to her own she let her golden magic twist gently around his hands, beginning to heal the wounds that Sláine had caused himself in the other realm. She wasn’t going to leave them unattended, not under her roof. Eurion would kill her if he found out she hadn’t healed his mates injuries when she had the opportunity.

At the question, the witch took another few moments before she replied. It was complicated, and there was so much she knew she needed to say. The look of defeat and exhaustion on Sláine’s face was breaking her own heart just as much. No one should have to fear their mate, the two should never have to be in this position. Her friend had waited too long for the prince. Adelphia wasn’t going to let it slip away because the gods were bastards who had far too much fun toying with their messenger.

“Since he was chosen. Most of his life.”

Because Eurion had been young when they got to him. Young and arrogant and stupid and had had no idea what he was properly getting himself into at the time. Now there was no way out, and to endure over a century of torture? Adelphia was surprised her friend even had a mind left.

“You’re not the first person in his life, in his memories, to be used against him. His parents, Cara and I, we’ve been there, too.”

The twins took their mugs without a word, though Sláine was a little more cautious when grabbing his due to his injuries. He shouldn't have been as surprised as he was when Adelphia's magic twisted around his hands and healed his self-inflicted wounds—but he was. The prince watched as she did so with a blank stare, then slowly brought his mug to his lips and took a sip when he wasn't bleeding all over the place now. Caoimhe maintained contact between them, shoulder to shoulder, but backed off from the conversation to force his twin to talk to the healer, Eurion's friend. If Sláine wanted to have the hope he needed that their bond was still intact, no matter the assassin's present fear, he had to learn just what exactly the Gods had done to him, to what extent had he been abused by them.

Sláine rolled the mug between his hands, that anger sparking once more, but he didn't have the energy for it. All that was left was a spark in his eyes as he looked down at the tea. Most of his life. Eurion had dedicated most of his life those fucking bastards, and they treated him like that? Twisted memories, tortured him physically, mentally, and emotionally, and expected him to just go about and do their bidding? If they were so afraid of Sláine becoming like them, of his power rivaling theirs, then he would make sure to become a threat if it meant either destroying them or breaking the chains they had on his assassin.

But, that made him even more conflicted, and Sláine deflated once more into defeat. He drank some tea to avoid Adelphia seeing it, but she undoubtably had. "Maybe," he conceded, "but that doesn't change what I had done." Even with Eurion out of the picture, the prince wasn't sitting right with the way his magic had reacted to the witch. Erased. They had been erased from the world entirely. What had become of them? He could've killed them normally and left it at that, but he didn't. At least—at least—he hadn't made it slow or agonizing. He hadn't drawn it out, or enjoyed it. It had been nothing more than an obstacle to overcome, an enemy to take down, and revenge for the near-death of his assassin.

Shaking his head, Sláine took more to drink and ignored the bits of partially dissolved herbs. "I have nothing but time. What—what all have they done? I have to know." She had wanted to talk to him earlier. This was his invitation for her to do so, but he also needed to know everything.

Adelphia sighed gently, leading them over to the couch so they could sit and talk comfortable. Standing was an effort for all of them, it seemed, especially with the healer making sure that her magic was doing its thing around both of Sláine’s hand. When they finally sat, she took a breath. Where did she even begin? She only knew what Eurion had told her, which was most of it, maybe not the entire trauma when it came to how he felt with the gods because he tended to stay shut off when that happened around them, but she could tell most of the story.

“From what I know, it started small, at first,” Addie took a sip from her mug, “It was more… physical, which isn’t great but at least they weren’t toying with his memories. Maybe it was because he was young, I’m not entirely sure. His parents died during the plague that passed through Dalthia, but the older Eurion got the more they started with the whole-“ She wiggled her fingers around her head, “Mind shit. Xirus draws on memories, important people and things, events, twists them until they become reality, or at least as close to reality as they can make it. The first time Xirus went as hard as they do now, they…” A pause, and she swallowed, “Eurion can’t remember if it was he who killed his parents or the plague. In his mind it was him, the torture and abuse of his parents was at his hands. That is the reality for him, even if it’s false. He still believes it.”

Adelphia looked towards the curtain, feeling her lover and know that she were comforting her friend as much as she possibly could, “For a while, after that first time, Eurion he- he did a lot, to himself, that he shouldn’t have. It only got worse when the gods started to make the occasions more frequent, longer, using both his mind and body against him. Cara and I met him not long after that, I helped him, saved his life. If we hadn’t had found him when we did he’d be dead.”

Because it had felt as if he had gone crazy. Eurion hadn’t been able to bare the thought of what he had done and tried everything to stop them. The assassin was less than pleased to had found himself alive in Adelphia’s home after the first time, “For a while he was just a shell, I don’t think I’ve seen anyone else act like he did during those times. Like he was dead but physically still breathing.”

“He healed, but then the Gods used Cara and I instead of his parents. By that point we had been friends long enough that they had enough to go off when it came to manipulating what he thought of us. Making us the villains, doing what I presume they did to you. He didn’t trust us for a while,” She looked back, and her gaze was soft but saddened, “It took a few days, and it didn’t help that the gods kept repeating themselves and the torture as often as they could, but he came back around.”

Sláine stared at the curtain, where Eurion was resting and recovering. He couldn't see him, but he imagined he could. Imagined he could see a young Eurion learning just what it meant to be a messenger of the Gods. Losing his parents so tragically, and then having his memories twisted so awfully that he couldn't remember if he had been the one to kill them or not? The prince couldn't fathom something like that. He fought off the urge to go to his assassin—his mate, his other half, his soul-bound—and wrap him into his arms. It wasn't something new to the man, so it wouldn't matter any, but Sláine felt crushed hearing about it.

If they had twisted the memories of his parents so horribly, turned Adelphia and Cara against him until he came back around days later, what had they shown Eurion about him? "We haven't—" Sláine started, speaking before he really had a full thought out. He took a moment to regroup, still rolling that mug back and forth between his palms like trying to light a fire, then tried again. "There isn't enough memory. We've only known one another for a few days. And that moment, he hadn't even been aware of." If it took time before the gods had used Eurion's friends against him, then what had they done to twist the prince against him?

It was awful. All of it was. Sláine knew he had asked for it, but hearing only increased his heartache, because now he wanted to go to his assassin and curl up next to him. To feel his arms around the prince and his warmth seeping into his skin. It took everything to not do so, to stay planted on the couch and not ignore Eurion's fears just because the prince recently learned about all the shit the Gods had thrown at him.

The prince rubbed at his face and eyes as his mind reeled with so many conflicting thoughts. "I just—What do I even do? What if they're right, and my magic really is not much different than theirs, at least in the ways that matter? What if Eurion saw a twisted reality, but the truth is no less horrifying to him? I can't… I don't want to force him to be okay with me just because I haven't done anything to him directly." Indirectly was another story he didn't want to get into. "He's afraid for a reason." His hand dropped, and Sláine stared down the curtain as if willing it out of existence; it didn't budge. "What do I do?"

“You may not have had lots of time together, but your mates, it makes things difficult, more complicated.” Because with Xirus nothing was easy, and the god of death at their side manipulating things even further? Adelphia was more scared for the two than she let on. They would know, surely, that the prince and the assassin were mates the second Sláine had stepped into their realm. The moment they saw that rage in his eyes and how fiercely he was willing to go to defend Eurion. It’s what made it easier to bend their messengers mind. Drawing on what little they had a twisting it, twisting hopes that the assassin had for the two of them into something dark and terrifying. Their souls were bound, but Eurion was bound to the Gods also, it was why it was so easy.

“What you do, Sláine Mac Arthfael, is you stay with him,” There was no room for argument in her voice, and as much as her pity shone through in her eyes her face conveyed her seriousness, “You talk to him while he sleeps, small things from your time that have been good. Remind him you’re his mate. You hide your time because he will come back around. In a few days he will remember. That bastard has waited far too long for you an I’ll be damned if I let either of you give up because of some arrogant old gods.”

Just as Adelphia and Cara had been impacted by the gods torture on their friends mind they knew it was possible for things to heal, for Eurion to remember. Not all was lost. If the three could stay friends after whatever the gods had shown Eurion about them, then it would be far easier for Sláine to get Eurion to remember. They were mates. Their connection was far stronger than any other. As Cara had said before, their bond seemed even stronger than usual. To her, it proved that they would be okay, they would get through this. Unfortunately for Sláine it was about playing the waiting game.

Logically, he knew that Adelphia wasn't trying to guilt him. But Sláine couldn't help but latch onto her words and let them twist into his heart. Their bond is what made it worse. Sláine showing up, making their bond known, had made it worse. He had made it worse. The Gods could manipulate what little Eurion had of memories between them because of the nature of their relationship and the connection they had. Just like if the Gids were there right now, Adolph's words twisted inside his mind. Your fault your fault your fault.

The longer he went outside of that realm and reliving the moment, the more Sláine put blame on himself. He had done this. None of it would've happened had he not gone there on an impulse and rage.

The prince's stare remained blank as Adelphia gave him his orders, then he dropped his face into his hands and simply sat there. Caoimhe watched from his twins' side, concerned. Sláine looked so… defeated. Like the life had been sucked out of him, and it had all been thrown away the moment Eurion had become afraid of him. Caoimhe put the pieces together soon enough. Fuck, his brother was spiraling into a state of nothingness and self hatred. He clacked their horns together, hooked them so they were stuck, and yanked Sláine up so he was forced to look back at the curtain. "You're not giving up on him," Caoimhe ordered.

"No," Sláine said, voice small. "I'm not… that's not… it." Caoimhe jostled them again, and Sláine winced from the pinch it caused. "I'm not giving up." Now his voice had more life to it. "I'm looking at this logically. Even if our bond is strong enough to pull him back, that won't stop him from associating my magic with theirs. He already has." Back in the woods, when they had jumped to the road to escape any more nasty surprises. Eurion was tense the entire time from the moment the prince's magic had settled over him. Sláine tried yanking himself out of Caoimhe's trap, but it wasn't working. "I'll… I'll talk to him. But I'm not—it isn't fair on him to be forced to face me. I don't care what you tell me to do, I won't talk when he's awake, even if you think he'll be okay."

Because Sláine was terrified. The flinch had shattered that happiness he felt when he thought about Eurion. It had taken over every smile and cuddle into the prince's neck. He couldn't see any sultry smirk, just the pure fear the assassin held while looking at Sláine. Even if Adelphia thought that Eurion would be okay talking to him later on, he wouldn't do it. He wouldn't have the stomach to, even if he burned with the need to be by his assassin. He didn't have the heart to be told Eurion couldn't look at him the same, couldn't break that fear.

"Associations can be broken if a different one is formed in its place." Adelphia leaned back in her seat, letting the twins do whatever they were doing with their horns, "Your magic isn't theirs, as much they want to make it out to believe, it's a different origin, you're a different source. You can break that association by showing Eurion how your magic can comfort him and how you use it for a different purpose." They were bonded for a reason, mated because they completed one another in ways no one else did. Their magic was the same. Eurion's past with the Gods and the magic they used on them, the trauma, that would never go away completely, but what Sláine's magic could do was show the assassin that forms of magic such as the prince's and the gods weren't all evil.

"I won't lie to you, it'll take far longer for him to come around to your magic than to you yourself." A few days at most with the help of Aideen and Caoimhe, with Sláine softly healing the assassin, too, speaking to him while he was asleep. Subconsciously, it would help, maybe more so than Adelphia thought. She and Cara had never even thought about it, maybe because with Cara fluttering around in her dove form that had taken the place of talking to the man in sleep, "But you have to keep with it. Wherever it is you're going, by the time you reach your destination I am more than sure Eurion will be okay with you again. Maybe not with your magic, but with you."

They were still a few days out from Dalthia and Skyfall. By the time they reached the Fae lands, if the trio was more than able to help the process of returning Eurion's memory to its original state, if Sláine was able to stomach facing his mate, even in sleep, they would be okay. As much as Eurion was just as terrified, his soul called for his prince. It hated being apart, that fear, because it knew it was wrong. Knew he had no reason to be afraid of the other because Sláine was his person. They had been bound the moment they were born and would be until the end and nothing, not even the gods, would be able to change that.

His head was still recovering from the injury, death, the loss of his own magic and the combination made it difficult for Eurion to see straight and realise that he was wrong. Just as he had come around with Cara and Adelphia once again, his heart wouldn't stop aching until he did the same with Sláine.

Sláine finally managed to unhook his horns from Caoimhe's, but during the struggle, he had no choice but to listen to Adelphia. The logic was there, it was all sound, and he desperately wanted to hope that things would turn out okay. His heart still squeezed at the thought of Eurion fearing him, of fighting the bond because of who he had been mated to, but he wanted to believe the witch when she said that they would be okay. They could overcome this, with time. So, as he slid his horns free of the trap his brother put him in, he looked to Adelphia and bowed his head a little. "Okay. I'll trust you, even if—" The prince shook his head to rid of that thought. He already had the same thoughts swirling around and around; he didn't need to verbalize them any more. Instead, he stared longingly at the curtain.

He was resistent to the idea of facing his mate, so sure that Eurion would wake up instantly and scream. But Sláine's soul tugged at him, begged to go to the assassin's side and sit there. Not close enough to be in danger of touching, but able to look over him. Give the illusion that things were okay. But he didn't know what to say, or if his voice would trigger the assassin even in his sleep. It was all fresh. Who could predict Eurion's reaction to him so soon? Adelphia sounded so sure that things would work out. She was practically demanding they work out. And Sláine wanted them to, he really did, but that fear gripped him too hard. Kept him frozen to the couch and unable to ask for what he wanted.

Caoimhe could see it though. The oldest prince for Sláine. "Do you think he should be by him right now? Or is it best to have a few hours of rest apart?" Because Sláine was clearly exhausted, but also clearly wanted to be by his mate, if even just for a little bit. But if Adelphia said it was a better idea to get rest separately, he would. The fight had left him for a while.

“Honestly?” Adelphia looked between the two brothers then tilted her head towards the curtain, “The more contact the better. You both need rest, so, if you’re planning on sleeping- which you should all be doing- then maybe don’t stay too long, but for a short while it might be good.”

Even in sleep the two would be drawn to one another. It was hard to be apart from your mate, your other half, no matter what was going on between them. It was a connection that overruled most thoughts and feelings, one that didn’t care if Sláine and Eurion were currently facing a difficult trial because it knew, deep down, they would be okay. As much as their heads would fight the thought, both swarmed with fears and worries about the other. But their hearts? That soul bond they had with each other? It wouldn’t stop drawing them together no matter what happened, not unless the bond was rejected.

On the other side of the curtain, Eurion was fast asleep. The whole ordeal had knocked him out good and with the spirit and the shifter there it was easy to relax enough to fall deep into sleep. Solise was comfortably lying and purring on his chest still, her head almost overlooking the assassins. Cara, on the other hand, was tucked away in the crook of his neck. Eurion’s head was tilted softly to one side as if he were trying to protect or keep the dove where she was right by his ear. He’d wake up with a sore neck in the morning, that was for sure, but for now he was more than comfortable where he was. At least in sleep he wasn’t in pain. He was too far gone to dream or worry, to have any fears of Sláine. Their bond still flickered, and with every passing moment it grew stronger as the assassin healed.