Zorvut was just where Taegan had left him this morning and all the previous mornings, of course—laying on his back on the bed, propped up a little bit with a few pillows and a light blanket pulled up to his shoulders. Each morning one of the healers had come by to examine him, moving his limbs to stretch his stationary muscles and switch out the blankets he laid upon, but they always returned with no real news. Just that he was healing, and his body would wake when it felt it could.
Taegan could not feel anything coming from the bond at the moment, but as he stepped up to Zorvut’s side it really did look like he was just resting. Like he might open his eyes and smile sleepily up at him if he were to just touch his arm.
He reached over to touch his shoulder, but there was no response. He did not truly expect one, but it was a small disappointment all the same. With a sigh, Taegan pulled down the blanket enough to expose the length of Zorvut’s arm, and with a bit of adjusting he was able to crawl into bed with his husband and nestle in the space between his arm and his chest.
“I miss you,” he said softly, breathing in slowly and deeply to take in as much of the half-orc’s comforting scent as he could. “Wake up soon, alright? We all need you. I can’t rule in your stead forever. They’re all waiting for you.”
He tried to push all his love and longing toward the quiet spot in the back of his head where the bond slept. He had no idea how successful it might be, if Zorvut was aware of him at all, but he figured it couldn’t hurt. As his eyes closed he kept the bond cradled in his thoughts, letting every thought and feeling he had drift toward it as his breathing eventually slowed and he fell asleep.
Truly he had meant only to lay down for a bit and have the comfort of Zorvut’s presence before getting back to work, but sleep overtook him before he realized, and then he was dreaming. He dreamt of a misty, grayish landscape, much like the hills outside Drol Kuggradh—rocky and almost bleak yet with a certain austere, untamed beauty about them. Standing in the center of the hills was Zorvut, looking around though he was not walking and there was no path in sight.
“Zorvut,” he called out, but his voice was faint and distant, as if he were underwater. He frowned, feeling his throat; despite his muffled voice, though, Zorvut seemed to hear him and turned to look in his direction.
A moment ago he had been watching Zorvut from afar, but he took one step and was now only perhaps ten feet away.
“I was wondering where you were,” Zorvut said, and his head tilted with a curious expression. “I’m not sure how I got here.”
“It’s alright,” Taegan said, and extended his hand. “Let’s go home.”
Zorvut looked at his hand, then turned to look back out at the mountains in the distance.
“I thought I heard…” he started, then trailed off. Taegan hesitated, then stepped forward to close the space between them, looping his outstretched hand around Zorvut’s arm at his side as he looked up at him. “I don’t know. I thought I heard something out there. Someone.”
“Shall we go look?” Taegan asked, raising an eyebrow, but Zorvut shook his head quickly with a frown.
“No,” he replied with an urgency that Taegan had not expected. “They were calling to me. Just me.”
Distantly, Taegan thought the words should make him nervous. In a way, he did feel nervous, but it was far away—as if he were watching someone else become anxious rather than feeling it himself.
“Then let’s go home,” he replied, squeezing Zorvut’s arm a little more tightly. The half-orc’s gaze lingered on the mist-covered mountains for a moment longer, scanning the horizon as if searching for something. But when he finally looked back down at Taegan his gaze was brimming with adoration, and Taegan could not imagine why he would have ever doubted Zorvut would follow him.
“Yes,” he agreed softly, pulling his arm from Taegan’s grasp to wrap it around the elf’s shoulders, pressing Taegan’s body to him. “Let’s go home.”
They turned, and behind them was both the shape of Drol Kuggradh and, a short distance behind it, the skyline of Aefraya with the castle on the high hill. Taegan laughed when he saw it in equal parts joy and surprise, and they started to walk towards it.
As they walked, Taegan somehow knew, in the way dreams let him just know things without needing to see them, that their children were walking behind them hand-in-hand. He could hear their small voices, indistinct and formless, as they chattered and laughed, lagging behind them a little ways so that they could curiously inspect every flower and insect on their path. He did not need to turn to look behind, but he knew they were there, and he was not worried.
As if sensing his thoughts, Zorvut glanced down at him, a fond smile on his face. His gaze was searching, as if he were waiting for Taegan to speak.
“We really can have it all, can’t we?” Taegan said, returning the smile. Zorvut did not answer, but squeezed him a little tighter, and together they kept walking toward the cities in the distance. They walked in silence for a few minutes, only the crunch of their footsteps and the occasional lilting voice of their children behind them, but then Zorvut’s arm around him tightened, squeezing him harder, and he looked up in surprise.
“What’s wrong?” he asked, but when he looked, Zorvut was gone, and the landscape was silent. He was alone. He blinked in surprise, turning behind him to look, and—
“Taegan,” Zorvut’s voice came softly, barely above a whisper, but still he could not see him. “Taegan?”
Taegan’s eyes snapped open as he woke with a start. He was back in bed, his body still curled up next to Zorvut’s torso, but now Zorvut was on his side facing Taegan, and when he looked his husband’s golden-yellow eyes were staring back at him—sleepy, unfocused, but open.
Afraid he was still dreaming, Taegan slowly reached up to Zorvut’s face, cupping it in both hands. Zorvut blinked, and his skin against Taegan’s hands felt warm, alive, prickly with stubble.
“Taegan?” Zorvut said again, his voice the same hoarse whisper Taegan had heard in his dream.
His eyes overflowed with tears before he had even processed the words.
“You’re awake,” he choked out over a sob, wanting desperately to lean forward and kiss him, still afraid he might be dreaming or somehow hurt Zorvut if he moved too quickly. Already the dream was leaving his memory, and some part of him wanted to hold on to it, to remember, but the rest of him was overwhelmed with cautious joy. Zorvut was truly warm and alive in his arms. “You’re really awake, aren’t you?”
“I think so,” Zorvut murmured, his eyes moving slowly around the room. His voice was gravelly with disuse, and he took in a few deep breaths before clearing his throat and speaking again. “What happened?”
“After the fight with Zesh, you—you passed out,” Taegan replied, finally pulling one hand away from Zorvut’s face to wipe away his own tears. “You’ve been sleeping for a few days. The healers who looked at you, they all said you were hurt but not too badly, and so your body must have just needed to rest.”
