InsaneJournal

WHO: Rhy & Alucard
WHAT: Rhy confesses to being homesick and unsure of where that leaves them. It leaves them in a really good place, tho.
WHEN: Saturday night, the 28th, after this (backdated)
WHERE: Maresh Palace
WARNINGS: Lots and lots of feels


After speaking to Gansey, Rhy walked home from the Barns. It was a long walk, from Council 3 to Council 6, and on the way here he had taken a bus, but now he needed time to think. He followed the river, which he had always - and still - found comforting, though his heart ached now with missing Arnes, and he could not help but compare it to the glowing red Isle. It fell short, though any other river would have fallen short in his estimation, no matter how majestic and beautiful, because he was heavily biased.

And homesick. He was painfully, achingly homesick for his city, even the ruins of it, though he missed most the London as it had been before Osaron had laid siege to it. Lively, magical, bustling with people at all hours of the day and night, and always the red glow and scent of spices and flowers.

That was the heart of it, he thought. He missed Arnes, he had not confessed to it, and now he was worried that Alucard was hoping to stay here. Especially if his sister came, but even before she did, the possibility of it clearly had a hold on him.

The idea of any permanence away from Rhy’s country, his world, scared him. Though of course he might not have any choice in the matter, and in some way, that might make it easier to bear. It was the prospect of having any choice, and the possibility that Alucard - or Kell, for that matter - might want to stay, that filled Rhy with dread. He didn’t want to abandon either of them, but neither did he want to abandon his country.

Or maybe more accurately, to separate himself from it, because there was supposedly still a Rhy there to look after it. Saints, he hoped more than ever that it was true. But either way, he -- this version of him, here in Tumbleweed -- might never see his city again. And being forced to that was one thing, as he’d been forced to come here, but choosing it… that was something else entirely.

The sun had been set for a while by the time he got back to the palace. He had missed their usual dinner time, but it was just as well, since he had no appetite. He entered cautiously, trying to sense through their bond if Kell was anywhere nearby. He had to talk to Alucard, and he had tried to mentally prepare himself for that, but he was not ready for a conversation with Kell on this subject, and wasn’t at all sure that conversation should happen. If Kell wanted to stay here, Rhy wanted him to be able to choose that for himself rather than be biased by what Rhy wanted.

He didn’t run into Kell, thankfully, and when he opened the door to his rooms, he found Alucard there, alone, with a bottle of wine. “Hello, love,” he said, mustering a smile. It was genuine, but small and tinged with the discontent in his heart. “Sorry I’m late.”

--

The small fireplace had been Alucard’s company, though not sole company given the wine, for some time. Dinner had come and gone, and with Rhy’s absence, a short conversation with Kell had cleared the worst possible option. Rhy being somewhere, Alucard had retired early. It was near impossible for anything to kill Rhy in this place, and Kell would raise a racket should anything more be needed on Rhy’s behalf. But books had been unable to hold his attention. Instead, that small worry on Rhy’s behalf mirrored another portion of Alucard’s existence here.

Perhaps Alucard should not have been able to hold so much sentiment toward the portal, it being something he could not even understand yet. But it was something, something sentient, with its own ideas on this or that. It had brought them here at times of its choosing. It had dampened Holland’s elemental magic. It quite clearly knew what it was doing, by its own logic. Studying it was fascinating but frustrating. And just then, Alucard was in no sort of mood to study anything.

That left him half a bottle of wine down when the door finally opened. Drunk from a glass, one glass at a time. Alucard was in control of himself or as much as he demanded he be. And despite the knowing, despite trusting Kell’s protectiveness of Rhy, one knot of tension relaxed seeing Rhy at home. Having had no idea where he had gone, what he was doing, or when he would be back, Alucard felt better knowing now that the last one, at least, was now.

“Ev’ning,” Alucard replied, standing up while still holding his glass, without spilling a drop. His eyes ran over Rhy quickly, after which he met Rhy’s gaze. Dusty, dustier than usual, but nothing else looked out of place. Just whatever had motivated Rhy to get dirty. In this place, they had the time for any number of such answers.

---

Rhy moved toward him immediately, to slide his arms around Alucard’s waist and press against his chest. He was eager to be close after having spent so much time worrying about having to choose to separate, or being torn apart by the knowledge of what they would choose, but he was still mindful of the hand that held the wine. He let his head fall forward to rest his forehead against Alucard’s shoulder.

“I’m ready to talk about what has been bothering me,” he said, voice quiet, but loud enough to be heard. “If you want to hear it.”

He could not gauge precisely what mood Alucard was in. Not a great one, but some grimness and sobriety was typical of him in the evenings, and he had probably been worried about Rhy. Had probably been worrying about him all week, which was why Rhy had phrased the statement to acknowledge that he was sure Alucard had already known something was bothering him. He could not have held this conversation until now, though. He was glad he had been able to talk to Gansey and put his thoughts in order before he had to explain it to Alucard.

--

One eye on his wine, Alucard wrapped his other arm around Rhy. It slid up his back, so that elbow to hand were pressed against Rhy, holding him as he leaned into Alucard. That left no easy way for Alucard to drink the wine, but however much he wanted to do that, it was a fair amount, it paled compared to holding his lover in his arms. That desire also was stronger than doing what it would take to gently set the wine glass down. So, much as he could handle that magically, Alucard let it hang loosely a foot or so away from them.

He breathed gently. Rhy’s words increased his desire to drink. Whatever was bothering Rhy, and it had been for at least a week, longer if it had taken time for Alucard to notice it, would be something serious. Something better they talked about than not. Not that Alucard knew what it was. He had not figured it out in the time he had, just yet. Partly, he thought, because he hadn’t been sure Rhy knew what it was either. That made it harder to pinpoint.

“I do,” Alucard replied. Whatever it was, he preferred what haunted him to be out in the open. It would not lack for company. Much as that would true, Alucard would do his best not to let his own mood spoil whatever the issue was. Usually, his mind was the only place the worse for wear, and he would keep it so. “What’s going on?” Alucard asked softly. In that beautiful mind of Rhy’s, Alucard meant. He kissed the side of Rhy’s head, a dark curl, and waited.

--

Rhy took a deep breath to compose himself enough to speak. There were already tears in his eyes, as just knowing what he was going to say was enough to fray the willpower he’d been using to hold back the flood of emotion inside him.

“I miss Arnes,” he whispered, and the heartache of it was incredibly evident in even that soft, almost choked sound. He kept his face hidden in Alucard’s shoulder as one tear rolled down his cheek, and then more started to follow. “I miss it so much. I want to go home.”

He wished he hadn’t said the last five words; they made him sound like a very small child, and his pride felt a little wounded as a result of it. But there was no taking it back now. He needed to push forward, because there was more explanation needed, and it was the harder part to say, so he needed to get it out before he lost the will to speak altogether. “I’ve been trying not to think about it, just thinking of this as traveling, taking a vacation… but I know you’re thinking about possible futures here, and that made it harder. But of course you should want that for your sister, and I do, too. I want you to have her back, too -- I want that for both of you, with all my heart. I don’t want you to think I don’t.”

And this was why someone else had needed to be his sounding board first, so that the words could come out of him in this order, rather than the other way around. It had sounded much worse, or would have to Alucard’s ears, the way he’d explained it to Gansey. Or at least Rhy thought that it would have. He supposed that he would never know for sure.

--

Alucard was not surprised that Rhy missed Arnes, nor was the desire to return to it. Not from Rhy. Honestly, not from anyone they knew already. That it was something that had bothered Rhy for some time, that it had taken this long to share, that was more surprising. This place, for all its many wonders, for everything they had seen, was not Arnes. It never could be Arnes (save were it to take them there, and even that was more likely to be brief, not more than a breath). And Arnes held their hearts, his and Rhy’s and Kell’s. For all that was good and all the amazing people in this place, Alucard too missed Arnes fiercely. He had been visiting it that night, in wine.

Feeling the breath in for more words, Alucard reached and barely settled his glass on the small table nearby. On a coaster he had been using all evening. Then there were more words, a flurry of them.

They took longer, than the first, to unravel the meaning from. The emotion and meaning and the worry behind them. Anisa was at the center of it, or rather, the idea of her, the chance of her living, was an anchor in this world, the thoughts toward it, and around it all the rest spun. She was, she had been, the first conversation that looked anything toward a future in this place, one beyond being ready for an attack, one that was more permanent than next week, next month, the first that held heart. Their trips, wonderful as they had been, were well aligned with treating this place as a trip. The very boat they had arrived on going from port to port had also affirmed that idea. But Anisa, much as Rhy only wanted good things for her and for Alucard, had crashed the reality of this place, what it could be around him. What Alucard would have given, just then, to have remained unaware that long. Anisa had been haunting his dreams for months.

That gave him some idea of what Rhy was feeling and saying. And Alucard knew how he felt, but he supposed then that Rhy possibly didn’t. So he did not want to speak assuming Rhy did. “I miss Arnes too,” Alucard replied, “I spent so much time at sea missing London. Now that I have neither the city nor the empire around me, now that I cannot turn my sail and return to it, I miss even that, the pirate infested waters that would as soon drown me, save to first remove the rings from my fingers.” He brought his second hand up to gently cup the back of Rhy’s head, not enough to hold him there should he lean back, just to support him and be with him.

“I have not been able to help but think about what life here could be like,” Alucard continued, “what it may mean. How meaningless the incredible wondrous effort of thought and feeling you have put toward our relationship back home may be. The previously unbelievable thought that Anisa could come here, the torturous feeling each time I learn someone has arrived and it is not her, the reminder each time that someone is sent home that we could be parted again without a word, that even should Anisa arrive, she could be stolen again just as quickly… And worst of all, having not even the smallest way to influence any of it, to decide anything that matters most, so that I feel lost at sea without even a sense of direction to steer myself.”

Alucard sighed. “I want us to make our lives, not to have them made for us.” He had not felt they had done so in quite some time. Not their lives here, the only ones they could have any control over, if he had to steal it from the portal itself.

--

Rhy was at least partially comforted to know that Alucard also missed Arnes, but what was more comforting was that Alucard did not seem to have taken anything Rhy had said in a bad way. He relaxed a little against his lover, allowing himself to be mostly held upright, though not enough that he would fall if Alucard moved away, even though he was weary, from the emotion and the walk he had taken to get back here.

What life do you most want to make? he wanted to ask, but didn’t. He wasn’t sure he truly wanted to know the answer. Although when he thought about it, he already knew the real, true answer -- to have Anisa back, and to be back in Arnes with her, and with his future at Rhy’s side secured. That was the future Alucard had been planning for, before Anisa had died. It was what Rhy would have chosen, too, if he could have. Which meant that what they truly wanted most, if they could have anything and everyone, was actually the same.

He wondered if there was even the slimmest chance that someone could come back from death here, and then live long enough to avoid it at home, or avoid it through some trick of the portal that might send them back different. In Anisa’s case, perhaps it could simply send her back uncorrupted. He didn’t say that aloud, though he suspected Alucard might have already thought it, too.

“In some ways,” he said quietly, “I think it might be easier if I knew for certain what had been decided for us. If I knew we were never going home, or that we would go back eventually. Not knowing -- and not knowing if what I want, or what I would choose given the choice, might change anything, or not -- is so hard.”

--

Much as Alucard had made his future, had seen what he wanted and, even unsure whether the parts of it beyond his control were possible, had aimed true for it, for years, until as much as was in his control had come to be. Bard had nearly ruined it. Osaron had crushed and killed so much. But what had survived had had life, had had hope, had stood a chance. And it kept going. Alucard was used to what was unquestionably outside anyone’s control: bringing back anyone from the dead being first on that list. His mother, so many of his crew. And so recently, his sister. With that ripped away, he felt like a landlubber at sea. A quick mental image of Kell on a boat the first time came to mind, an amusing image. But it fell away.

“I doubt we will know, not with any certainty, not for any significant period of time,” Alucard replied. He paused, “Not unless something is permanently and unequivocally and knowingly decided for us.” Should they return home, with no memory, they would be ignorant but unperturbed. Should they remember, it would take something remarkable for the uncertainty to be dispelled. And yet, if they were at home, there would be a country to rebuild and to rule, and they would have to live as such for the sake of their people. Here, no one depended on them in such a way. And so, that freedom to react to all this and to live how they would in the face of it left them in greater misery and paralysis.

“All we have is deciding what we want to do amid this, how we want to live,” Alucard continued. “A question I have not resolved on my own. Nor am I inclined to attempt to without you.” That little, that small piece of ground, was all that Alucard had made his own. His mind was too much a terrible place, and Rhy was too important a person, the most important one here, for Alucard to leave him out of it. It meant his opinion mattered greatly. And as a continuation of that, he expected Kell’s thoughts also to matter. For now, he left it at that. Whatever would happen, whatever they thought possible, he wanted to face it together. He had fought too hard, too long, at too great a cost for anything less.

--

Rhy knew he was right about that, and that he was probably foolish to wish it. At least his tears had passed, and this conversation was not going anywhere near as badly as he’d feared. He wished he had been able to stop worrying over it so much, stop running himself into the ground with insecurity, and saved himself a week of distress over it, for no good reason. But what was done was done, and at least he had not held onto it so long this time before seeking the help he needed.

He shifted a little, not to pull away but to stop leaning so much of his weight on Alucard. He only moved closer again a moment later, tightening his arms around Alucard’s waist and turning his head to tuck it under Alucard’s chin, his ear pressed against his lover’s collarbones. He could hear Alucard’s heart beating steadily, and let himself be comforted by it, and by the sentiment of not without you.

“I’m not ready to think about this place permanently yet,” he said. His eyes stung again at the mention of it; his heart ached for home. “Or even very...long-term. I don’t know if I will ever give up on the possibility of going home. Even if we live a whole lifetime here, and are only returned there at the end of it.” Would that work, he wondered. Would they go back to the same period in time they came from, or the end of their lives there as well? Rhy wanted to be able to live both, if he had to live this one, or at the very least, he hoped that if he went back to the end of his life at home, he would have at least a few seconds to have the memories of what life had been like there, before he died.

“But,” he made himself continue, “I don’t think there is anything wrong with hoping for things that might happen, while we’re here. And if you have other hopes, or dreams… I would help you make them happen, any way I can.”

--

Even though the largest questions, so far as they knew so far as they could actively do anything, were out of their hands, what they did, what Alucard had set before them, was no small matter. Alucard’s months spent turning down dark paths, the imagined ways it could go, most of them not anywhere near their liking, the worst possibilities playing out time and again, in variations so as to fully explore that question… He was not pushing Rhy off that cliff. No, they were merely looking at the view from where they stood, aware that they would have to continue one way or another. Not going anywhere or doing anything was itself a choice.

“We do not need to yet,” Alucard replied. They had been continuing, day by day. They both had gained paid employment, so as not to rely on Arnes’s treasury to support themselves. It also gave them both regular activities and duties. Some friendships, their individual exploration of magic, and what unusual event happened occupied much of their time. They could continue to do that for now.

“And unless we should learn in full certainty what is possible for us, I believe wholeheartedly in seeking what we want,” Alucard said, “even as we face the day to day realities. I am not, and I would not, ask you to give up on Arnes. It is only that I cannot help but ponder the situation we’re in, what might happen, and what we might do about it, even beyond those connections to going home.” And not going home alone. There were steps long before that consideration. So many that it was not, perhaps, worth voicing that desire just yet.

He thought further, warmed by Rhy’s words, his promise of support. But Alucard had few directions for himself. He had only grounded himself in expanding his understanding of magic so that he did not lose his mind entirely. They were not… the kind of hopes and dreams that had pushed him forward for years. “Facing it together is what I have, all that we can do anything about,” Alucard said quietly. He longed for Anisa, for something more than a wound that would not heal. But Rhy knew that, and Alucard did not feel a need to repeat it aloud.

--

Rhy’s throat tightened as they got closer back to the possibility of being asked to choose, one way or the other. He knew Alucard would not ask, but that didn’t mean the choice wouldn’t be presented. “I know you would not ask me to choose,” he said quietly, because he felt it had to be said, and now, while they were having this conversation. “But I am afraid that it is possible that we will be presented with a choice, and that… depending on what this world brings us… it may be a very difficult one.”

It might not actually be so difficult to choose, if Alucard’s heart was set on staying with Anisa, and Rhy’s was still longing to go home. But even that would be heartwrenching, because Rhy would have to knowingly leave him behind, and Alucard would have to knowingly choose a future without Rhy in it. Even if Anisa and Arnes made both of those choices worth it to them -- and Rhy was not sure that they would, but he thought they might -- it would still, in its own way, tear them apart. He turned his face back into Alucard’s chest as his eyes filled again, and tears threatened but didn’t yet fall.

“I want a future with you, whatever it holds,” he agreed, “Ideally, I would have one with you, and both our siblings, and our country, if such a thing were possible.” But as slim a chance as there might be for that, it still seemed the most impossible thing to hope for of all.

--

Terrible choices came to them all the time, ones that had to be decided. That was part of being king or captain, lover and beloved. There were all too many terrible choices that could be set before them, after all the ones they had already faced. Alucard had left Rhy, uncertain whether Rhy would ever know the truth. It had been more important to save Arnes, and Rhy a part of it. Alucard had done what he could, so that if Rhy lived, even if he did not, there stood some chance. There was nothing more they could do. And Alucard could not live paralyzed by some terrible choice they would possibly have to make in the future. Even if they thought they knew what they would decide, it simply was not worth it.

Which was not to say that his imagination understood that note whatsoever, that he did not ponder those difficulties any less than Rhy did. Only, they came with certain moods, at certain times, in some dreams… And their terror, no matter how strong, did not take hold over the rest of his life.

His eyes closed, imagining the future he had dreamt of for years, the one he had pursued by his sweat at blood, at the sacrifice of years of his life. Yes, that was the future Alucard wanted. And oh so carefully, it was possible to hold an image of it in his mind. “And we will do what we must to have it,” Alucard said firmly. He would give much, more than he had given before, to have that. They were so close, so close to it back home, save for one tiny but important part. But if that could be had, then no matter how far they went, Alucard would see to it that they did. He could not see everything, all the shapes of it, in his mind. But neither had he before. It had come in time, with thought.

--

Rhy almost laughed, in spite of himself, at how sure Alucard sounded. He didn’t laugh, but he did smile. “I love you,” he said, with feeling. “So much.”

It was one of his favorite things about Alucard, his ability to stand so firmly and surely, despite the emotional response that Rhy knew he’d had in response to Rhy’s words. He hadn’t spoken any of it, but Rhy had felt it, sensed it in the absence of speech. And yet he’d managed to respond in a way that made Rhy feel hopeful that, perhaps, they could have everything they wanted. That confidence was absolutely hard-won, and it was so Alucard, and Rhy was wholeheartedly in love with him. He could barely remember what it had felt like to be scared of having this conversation in the first place.

He lifted his head and kissed Alucard, passionately, his fingers curling into the back of Alucard’s shirt.

--

Alucard’s head dipped when Rhy moved, having leant on Rhy’s. He caught it, then turned his face to meet Rhy’s more purposefully. There was not enough time to return the sentiment, though Rhy surely knew it. His grasp shifted, more demanding in the way it held onto Rhy. They had so little of what they wanted, just then. But they had each other, something Alucard would not give up. It felt more bearable together, not simply Alucard against whatever the world set before him. They were far more capable together. So he could believe it was possible, despite how much more it would take to get the same future as before.

The wine, possibly, was catching up to him. But Alucard broke the kiss enough to breath, a couple haggard breaths. Then he leant back into it, taking a few rolling steps along the side of the couch, to take them closer toward the bed. Luxurious as the sofa was, it left two full grown men cramped. A challenge, under the right circumstances, but one Alucard thought better to avoid.

“I want to hear that, again and again,” Alucard whispered as he moved kisses along Rhy’s jaw. He had no doubts. And Alucard had always known where Rhy’s heart belonged, should anything force things to come down to him and to Arnes. But it would not. They would not let it. And so those words were his, that night and beyond.

--

“I love you,” Rhy breathed back, more than willing to grant that wish. His body responded, too, to the way Alucard gripped him more tightly, the demand and the possessiveness in it, and moved willingly towards the bed. He tilted his head to the side in offering. “I will tell you over and over again, every day for the rest of my life.”

For the rest of his life here, or at home, wherever they ended up together, that would be true. No horrible choice could change or refute it. Love could make those choices difficult and painful, but whatever Alucard chose, it would not change who he was to Rhy. He might even love him a little more for choosing to stay with his sister, even if that meant Rhy had to choose between him and Arnes. But he thought, now, that Alucard would feel the same way about him for having chosen Arnes.

And as awful as that would be, as much as he still dreaded the possibility, it didn’t scare him as much anymore. Talking about it had not ruined their present, which was the most important thing, the part that had scared him the most. Nothing would tear them apart before such time as they, or the portal, decided where their future would be. And maybe, just maybe, not even that.