WHO: Rhy & Kell Maresh WHAT: talking about death/life feels WHEN: Saturday 4/28 (backdated) WHERE: by the river WARNINGS: mentions of Rhy's past death and feelings surrounding his life being bound to Kell's
Amazingly, Rhy’s good mood had lasted for more than a week after his serenade. That was not to say that he was never upset or sad, or that he had stopped having nightmares, but even in his worst moments, he still felt lighter. He no longer felt like a burden on the shoulders of the people who loved him most, or at least, he was less of one. It was amazing how much freer the absence of that weight could make him feel.
He had not yet caught Kell at a good moment to tell him so. He debated a few times about whether he should, but he also knew that Kell must have noticed the change in his mood, the new lightness of it. He would be able to feel it.
At last, he caught Kell at home one afternoon when Alucard was not there. He slung an arm around his brother’s shoulders and said, “We’re going out. How do you feel about a walk along the river?”
There was no option about whether they were going out together, only about where they were going. Rhy most often dragged Kell out to bars, but that held less appeal here, since he wasn’t looking for a hookup, and most of them didn’t seem to have card games like the casino on the cruise.
--
Kell hadn’t missed the uptick in Rhy’s mood. Who could? He was glad for it, even though it was strange to feel pops of optimism in his system that had absolutely nothing to do with what he was doing.
Still, since they were back in Tumbleweed, Kell had been dedicated to going out and trying the sorts of things offered here. Things that he couldn’t have done back home, either because they didn’t exist or because he would have attracted too much attention. The black eye still did attract some attention for its oddity, but it was usually no more than a passing glance. He was living among a community of people who were all considered different and often extraordinary in their own home worlds. Which, as a result, meant that no one really cared here.
So, a simple walk outside with Rhy where they weren’t either hiding or being observed was still a treat.
“All right,” Kell said without any thought of disagreeing with Rhy.
…
“Good,” Rhy said, pleased that he didn’t get an argument. It probably helped that he was not trying to convince Kell to do anything particularly ‘fun’, which usually got the greatest resistance from his brother. But then Kell almost always ended up having a good time.
He led the way outside and headed toward the river. The palace here, unfortunately, did not lay right across the river the way it had done over the Isle at home, and the river itself was not nearly so pretty. Nevertheless, the river’s presence still felt comforting for Rhy, and he made a point to walk by it on his way to and from the school every day, even though it made the walk longer.
“What do you think of Tumbleweed?” he asked, as they went. “Does it remind you of anywhere else you’ve been?”
--
Kell had purposefully not asked about Rhy’s good mood, because he didn’t want to give Rhy any reason to not be in such a good mood. And because it probably had to do with Alucard. Kell wanted to remain as outside the boundaries of their relationship as he possibly could, which was already quite difficult.
“No,” Kell said, shaking his head. He knew that his ability was rare in their world, and that a lot of people had envied him for being able to move in between the Londons. But it seemed so small now compared to how many universes they knew there were. He had been to three versions of the same city, but there were an infinite amount of worlds.
“I kind of like that it’s different, though,” Kell added.
…
“It’s different from anywhere else I’ve been before, too,” Rhy said, and then somewhat self-deprecatingly, “Obviously.”
He was still smiling, and he paused in the walk only when they finally reached the banks of the river. He leaned against a railing overlooking it, and sighed wistfully. “This is the only part I find a little disappointing. I really prefer rivers that glow red.”
--
Kell watched Rhy as he moved, ever the image of the caring prince. Even though, he wasn’t. Not anymore. He was king now, and that was something that still struck Kell again and again, even though they had both been raised with that goal in mind.
“They usually don’t,” Kell said with obvious affection for their home river. He stepped in next to Rhy and gently jostled his shoulder.
…
“We got very lucky in our London, then,” Rhy said with a smile, “To have such a special river.”
He jostled Kell with his shoulder in return, gentle and playful, his head turned to grin at his brother over his shoulder. Then he straightened and dragged in a deep breath of river-scented air, and let the breath back out with a soft sigh.
“I really don’t want to ruin the mood,” he said, “But there is something I should tell you, in the interest of honesty, which has been… much more cathartic for me lately than I expected.” He paused, glancing over at Kell. “I finally realized something, which you will probably think I should have realized a long time ago, but I didn’t. About why you kept me alive.”
--
They were lucky in their London. Kell, for all his difficulties in their London, had always known that. He had never envied Holland White London. He would have been killed there, young, or bound up like Holland. He knew that well enough.
Kell’s thoughts about the Londons were broken up when Rhy spoke again. He frowned. He hadn’t known that Rhy had had any doubts at all about why he had kept Rhy alive. There had been no other choice. But he didn’t speak yet; he waited for Rhy to continue.
…
“I was,” Rhy said slowly, “Too consumed with the weight of my life on your shoulders to realize that my death would have been heavier.” He ran a hand through his curls, and then glanced over at Kell. “Or at least, I think it would have been. Am I right?”
--
The fact that it had taken time for Rhy to realize that nearly brought Kell to his knees. For him, there had just never been the idea of a world without Rhy. There couldn’t be. He knew it was an oversimplification to say there wasn’t anything else to him and his experience besides Rhy, but Rhy was the person at the very center of it.
He didn’t have the words to explain all of that, which was perhaps why he hadn’t tried. He hadn’t thought he needed to.
His insides mashed with emotion that Rhy hadn’t known that. He hadn’t used the magic from that stone lightly, and he hadn’t brought Rhy back because it had been fun or easy.
He stepped forward and clapped a hand to the back of Rhy’s neck so that he couldn’t look away when Kell spoke.
“There is no world without you,” he said.
…
Rhy felt the effect he’d had on Kell, and instantly felt sorry for it. He didn’t have a chance to say anything, though, before Kell had grabbed hold of him and forced him to look and listen. Meeting Kell’s eyes just then was one of the hardest things Rhy had ever done, but he managed to find the courage not to look away.
The sentiment was even stronger than he expected, which made him feel worse. He stepped in even closer and wrapped his arms around Kell’s shoulders to hug him tight, pressing his nose and mouth and the side of his head into Kell’s shoulder and neck.
“I’m sorry,” he murmured, voice muffled. He lifted his head a little to make sure that Kell could hear him. “I got so used to being underestimated that I didn’t… I don’t... “ He trailed off for a moment, unsure how to finish that sentence. “I didn’t know my own worth. It’s not your fault, Kell.”
Even though Kell had underestimated him, too, it was only because their parents - or Rhy’s parents - had gotten into his head about how weak Rhy would be on the throne without his Antari brother. Having to save Rhy from his own mistakes probably hadn’t helped that impression, but Rhy’s insecurities had started long before that.
--
Kell wrapped his arms tightly around Rhy in return. He knew that Rhy had struggled with being alive again, but even Kell hadn’t realized to this magnitude. He had never regretted, not for one second, bringing Rhy back. There were parts of the bond that he would prefer not to deal with (mostly anything involving Alucard) but none of those had ever made him pause and wonder if he’d made the wrong decision. There had no been decision to make. The only thing that could have happened was Kell trying to bring Rhy back.
“Don’t be sorry,” Kell breathed. “Rhy, I just … I don’t know how to tell you that there was nothing else for me to do. Nothing else occurred to me.” He would have made any deal and used any magic to bring Rhy back in that moment. He knew that wasn’t necessarily a good thing; they had paid a very high cost indeed, but it could have been worse if it had allowed Vitari to permanently root in both of them.
…
Rhy’s arms tightened around his brother, and he closed his eyes as they stung with just a hint, a warning, of tears. He knew that part of Kell’s devotion to him also spoke to Kell’s own isolation and insecurities, and Rhy didn’t know how much of a part he’d played in that, but it had not and did not take away from how much Kell loved him, and how important Rhy was to him. On some level, Rhy had known that; he just also had too many voices in his head telling him that he wasn’t worth it, voices he’d listened to for so long that they sounded like his own thoughts. He was only just starting to understand that there was a difference, and that the voices were wrong. He had value and worth, especially in the estimation of his loved ones.
Rhy’s heart ached with the understanding of it, and with all the love he held for his brother. He didn’t know what else he could say to express any of it.
Except: “Thank you,” he managed, finally. “I’m glad - and grateful - that you did.”
That wasn’t something he would have been able to truthfully say, until now. It had taken Alucard breaking under the weight of remembering Rhy dying in front of him for Rhy to realize the kind of state he’d have left his loved ones in if he’d died, and how much better off they were with him around.
--
“I did it for me,” Kell said quietly, because that was the truth. “Because I couldn’t let you go.” It still hurt to know that Rhy hadn’t been sure if he had wanted to come back. He didn’t know what he would have done if Rhy had decided that it was a mistake, and that he didn’t want to be alive like this. Because Kell really didn’t know if he could have let Rhy go even then.
...
Rhy only managed a nod, his head still tucked against Kell’s, because he was at a loss for words. He didn’t know why it had taken him so long to understand that, or what it said about him. That he was self-absorbed, possibly, assuming that the sacrifice had been made for his sake. It had been done for him, still, but to keep him around for Kell’s sake. And that rested much easier on Rhy’s shoulders and his conscience.
He pulled back, finally, but kept his hands on Kell’s shoulders for a moment longer. “I’m sorry I’ve been stupid about it,” he said, looking Kell in the eye. Then he added, “And sorry I was stupid enough that you had to do it in the first place. But -- I understand it better now.” He smiled and sounded genuinely optimistic about it when he continued, “I’ll be here as long as you are. And I’ll try to make sure that’s a good long time.”
--
“It wasn’t your fault, Rhy,” Kell said seriously. He knew that Rhy had heard this before, but Kell was going to keep saying it until he believed it. There was blame to go around on all sides -- plenty for Kell who had been foolish enough to carry the stone in between their worlds. Astrid perhaps would have gotten hold anyway, though, and perhaps they should have foresaw the Danes as a greater threat than they had. Maybe there had been no real purpose to sending Antari through the worlds, and maybe they all shouldn’t have been so complacent in dealing with their “neighbors” only because Kell and Holland were the only ones who could through freely.
“But I’m glad,” Kell said, this time with a smile and a quick touch to Rhy’s face, “that you understand.”
…
Rhy shook his head. “I should’ve known better than to put on that necklace, or even to take it from Holland in the first place. Hell, I did know better. I did it anyway, because - because after twenty years I still hadn’t managed the slightest bit of useful magic, and with the way everyone acted like that was so important, I thought it was worth the risk. Except I thought the risks were that it wouldn’t work, or it would work too well and I’d set the palace on fire, or that I’d get caught with an illegal object from another world.”
He laughed, a little mirthlessly. “You can lay blame for everything else wherever you want, but nobody else made that choice for me.” He let out a breath. “Although, arguably, if I hadn’t, and you hadn’t brought me back, I might not have survived Col, or Osaron, so… I think what you really mean to say, Kell, is that it’s pointless to blame myself for it. Only to learn from it, and stop chasing after magical power. Or more importantly, equating magical power with my own worth.”
It was still difficult, sometimes. This world had tempted him more than once, with the idea of wands to make it easier to channel his talent, and the idea of potions which did not always require magic. But he had resisted, so far.
He gave Kell an almost mischievous smile, but his expression quickly sobered. “I know you don’t like him, but you have Alucard to thank for this particular revelation. I don’t know that I would have reached it without him.”
--
“You’re too hard on yourself, Rhy,” Kell said quietly. Not that any of them were entirely without blame, but Astrid and Athos had played them to their weaknesses. They had known about Rhy’s vulnerability without magic, and they had known the ways in which Kell had acted out against his own gilded cage.
Their world had both made them anomalies when it came to magic -- Kell being too powerful, becoming something to be owned, and Rhy being not powerful enough, becoming something to be protected. It was hard to live with so little nuance, especially when they were juxtaposed against each other.
But he sensed that Rhy perhaps wanted to change the subject.
“You could have listened to me,” Kell answered dryly but without any true irritation.
…
“Am I?” Rhy asked, his gaze weighty as he looked at his brother. “The whole empire depends on me, Kell. I can’t afford to make any more stupid mistakes.”
He was, perhaps, too hard on himself for a normal person. But a king, who held thousands of lives in the balance depending on his choices? If anything, he had not been held accountable enough for that mistake.
He smiled, ruefully. “I have been listening to you. But what you’ve said didn’t have the same effect as... “ He paused, unsure about how much he should reveal. “Seeing how much he grieved me.”
--
“I know,” Kell said quietly, because he knew that as well. He would never be king, but he was an influence on Rhy and Arnes, and he knew that his own mistakes had greatly affected what had happened in their world.
But he also believed in Rhy. Rhy had made a mistake, but he wasn’t reckless. He learned, and he cared -- and maybe that wouldn’t be enough to make him a good king, but Kell didn’t know what else a potential ruler could start off with.
Kell knew that this moment wasn’t about him, but he couldn’t help but feel a little hurt at the notion that Alucard’s grief had been enough to convince Rhy, but somehow Kell’s had not been. It was nearly on the tip of his tongue to say that he had grieved Rhy -- grieved him enough that he had used the darkest magic he had known without any thought to bring Rhy back to life.
He swallowed the words, though. He knew, in a way, this was the new way of life. Part of him had always hated Alucard for the way he had hurt Rhy, but another part of him was jealous and a little scared. Everyone else had come and gone, but somehow Alucard had remained in Rhy’s heart. And where, when they were young, it had always been the two of them, suddenly Rhy was off forming something else with someone new -- something that displaced Kell from being the main person in Rhy’s life.
He knew it was petty -- and he couldn’t explain it in so many words. Rhy had always been the beloved of many, but Kell had always been assured that he was of the utmost importance in Rhy’s life. And that just maybe wasn’t true anymore. He suddenly was looking in at his brother’s life.
Kell could think of nothing to say that wasn’t selfish or unkind, so he made a quietly thoughtful noise.
…
The problem was, Rhy could feel Kell’s hurt. He could also feel Kell trying to push it down, but he didn’t want that to happen. He’d wanted this conversation to be about airing the difficult things that they had not been saying to each other.
He reached out and gripped Kell’s shoulder. “Tell me what you’re thinking,” he said. “Nothing is getting any better for either of us suffering in silence.”
--
“No,” Kell said. He wasn’t ready for to have this conversation -- he didn’t know if he would ever be ready to have that conversation, mostly because he didn’t even begin to know how to put into words everything he felt about Alucard Emery.
He knew that Rhy was right, and that suffering in silence wouldn’t do their relationship any favors, but he also was aware that he didn’t owe Rhy explanations for every feeling he happened to tap into.
…
Rhy faltered when Kell shut him down. He had come out here to try to communicate, because for once it had actually helped him - when he had talked to Alucard - but it had only helped because Alucard had been open with him in return. The same strategy was clearly not working with Kell.
He withdrew his hand, composed himself, and then said simply, quietly, “I didn’t mean to hurt you.”
--
“You didn’t, Rhy,” Kell said. “It’s fine.” He so dearly didn’t want to make this about him -- he knew full well that this was Rhy’s moment and it was frustrating that Rhy could detect the differences in his emotion that he knew better than to express in this moment.
…
Rhy raised his eyebrows, because he didn’t believe that. “Something I said upset you. And you don’t have to tell me what it is, but don’t lie to me.”
He wanted very badly to know what Kell was thinking, even if it would upset him as well, but it didn’t seem likely to happen at this point. But at the very least, Kell could have the decency not to try to cover it up. It was absurd to even try, when he knew full well that Rhy had picked up on his emotional reaction.
--
“Rhy,” Kell said, feeling a bit tired, because sometimes navigating their bond was just so hard, “not every emotion I feel is one that is rational and one I want to act on. At least give me the dignity of being able to be who I want to be regardless of what I’m feeling.
“I don’t want this moment to be about what I’m feeling. I want it to be about you, because I’m happy that you figured out how loved you are, okay?”
…
All Rhy could do in response to that statement was nod. He thought that he understood, although he didn’t perhaps understand it fully. But he didn’t press the issue any further, instead returning to the other topic.
“I’ve always known how much you love me,” he said, quietly. “If anything, I thought that you had sacrificed too much of yourself out of love for me. It’s much easier to accept that it’s what you wanted, and needed, for yourself. I am glad to be here for you. Which makes it easier to be glad to be here for myself.”
He wasn’t sure that explained it any better. But he had tried. “And I don’t want this moment to be all about me. Or any other moment, for that matter. What I want, more than anything else in the world, is my brother. My equal.” --
It seemed like so much to ask Rhy to be alive for him, but if that helped Rhy make his peace with being alive, Kell would take it. He didn’t know what else to say to that, which, in some ways, felt good, because it seemed like they had found even ground on this topic.