[ Clive hovers for a moment, caught between his thoughts and this very real plea that's being projected to him. Joshua's grip on him is fragile in a way that makes his stomach turn again, reminding him of how much strength the poison has taken and still continues to take from his brother.
It's devastating. As devastating as the thought of finding happiness with a Joshua-shaped hole carved out of his soul. Clive can't even begin to imagine what that would look like, what that would feel like. Ever since he was a child, he only knew happiness in the context of his brother's smiles, in the purpose it gave him to become stronger and more capable to fulfill the duty of being his brother's protector.
What is happiness, exactly? What is it, if not giving yourself wholly to someone you love more than yourself? He tries to reconcile that preconceived notion with Joshua's request that he retain himself even in Joshua's absence, and it...
...feels impossible. He doesn't say so, obviously. ]
―It's my role to make sure nothing happens to you. [ As gently as he can manage, without denying his brother outright. No part of him wants this to become a disagreement. ] And I'd like to keep it as long as I can. Until I'm old and grey.
[ Which is a concession, to some extent. It's not that I want to die, in different terms. He tries for a smile that doesn't land― more a flinch than anything, but there was an attempt― and he finally, finally lowers himself down again.
(There's no care spent to reassess the optics of this. Him, shirtless and stripped down to his trousers, and Joshua, wrapped in his shirt and pulled close to his chest. If someone comes to check on the both of them somehow, they'll see what they see.) ]
...So I'll have to do my utmost to keep swatting flies.
[ A sigh, as he settles under covers. ] The Imperials may shift back to courting you again. [ If what Anabella said before at their door is any indication of what she'll push for in the future, Clive means. ] And I don't intend to return to Rosalith without you.
I don't intend to stay here. [And then, far more petulant than Joshua usually ever allows himself to be:] I hate this place.
[He will be mature tomorrow, when he has to be. When he faces Sylvestre and all the other nobles who will surely want a peek at him - to see how awful he might look, how close to death he was, so they can gossip about it afterwards. Joshua knows he can handle it, knows a night of rest won't give him back all his strength but it'll give him enough for that.
It helps, more than he can say, that Clive is there. That he will be allowed, hopefully, to fall asleep in his brother's arms. It's greedy of him to want that when he knows how difficult, how dangerous it is - but how can he help but want it? Even as awful as he feels, having Clive so close warms him in a way that's not nearly as innocent as it ought to be.]
They can try, and in return I'll wring as many concessions out of them as I can before we return home. [And if that's the only way he gets justice for this, it will be enough. If Rosaria ends up safe, it will all be worth it.] They won't get my hand, though, no matter what they may offer. I will never marry.
[He rests his head against Clive. He would marry if he could, if only it were possible. But it never can be, and so he never will.
It should be a mad thought, really. This thing between them has only come to life so recently, and though Joshua is young and rather a romantic, he knows his duty and is level-headed enough that he would never think such a thing about any other relationship that was so new.
But Joshua has loved Clive for so long, trusted him for just as many years. He has wanted Clive for longer than he ought to, even knowing - certain, back then - that it could never be possible. He always thought they would spend their lives together, and he still thinks that. So it isn't so mad, in the end. It isn't.]
I'll see you when you're old and grey, someday. And you will be just as handsome.
[ "I hate this place", Joshua says, and those petulance-laced words give Clive more comfort than he's willing to admit. Not just because Joshua so rarely permits himself to sound his age－ though that's most of it－ but because it gives Clive the childlike reassurance that his brother will stay.
A selfish, greedy thought. Not quite unlike Clive's plans for the following morning, to find the brightest crimson silks that his brother packed to dress him in, and to wear something just as red to match. Not a speck of white on either of their bodies if they can help it, standing tall and proud like the twin flames that they are.
(Clive has not been invited to stand vigil during Joshua's audience with Sylvestre.
Clive will invite himself.)
The subject of marriage pries Clive away from what constitutes as pettiness on his part, and his eyes widen as he digests the declaration, though they've already spoken in heated terms about how they're only meant for one another. It's a terrible thing to be happy about the thought of his brother being deprived of something as fundamental as marriage, but still－ ]
－And you'll be older, and even more beautiful.
[ Joshua, who the uncharitable members of the Rosarian nobility said wouldn't live past eight summers. Look at him now, stronger and far more radiant than bards could ever sing of; it makes Clive's heart full just to think of the trials that his brother survived to be where he is now, a stunning young man full of healing fire. ]
We'll walk along the beach of Port Isolde, and watch the spires of Castle Rosalith from afar.
[ His voice grows lower, more hushed. ]
And we'll speak of this day, and laugh about how they failed to keep us apart.
[He wants that life, that future. Joshua may dream of more frivolous things - running away, living a quiet life with Clive, somewhere no one knows them and they can be together - but he knows something like that is impossible. Duty binds them both too tightly, duty will take Clive from his side again and again, it will tie him to Rosalith no matter how much he might wish to see the world.
But this gentle future, side by side still when they're old and grey, is something that could happen. If they're careful, if they live through everything the world throws at them, they can have that someday.
Joshua raises himself from where he's been contentedly resting against Clive, letting his brother's warmth relax him, and tugs him close for a soft kiss. Indulgent, wistful.]
It's all I could ask for.
[Too weary for more than that simple kiss, he rests against Clive again. They both need to sleep soon, in preparation for the trials they'll face on the morrow. Joshua hopes that he'll be able to sleep, that the twinges of pain that still haunt him will let him. Clive, too, likely won't sleep the night through, he knows. But with luck, he'll get at least a bit of rest.]
If I can't run away with you, a life where you share those moments with me will be enough.
[Even that, really, is a bit of wishful thinking. Even if they return with peace and Sanbreque's supposed friendship, there's the Iron Kingdom still to worry about, as well as the less serious but near-constant threat of bandits and monsters. Clive always takes it upon himself, and Joshua cannot force him to do anything else, and so they will part again, he knows.
But until then, Joshua will steal whatever moments with Clive that he can.]
[ Is it a comfort to know that every separation will come with a reunion? It's a consolation, even if it's not the solution to the pain of never being perceived as anything but what the world will require of them.
Still, they have what they have. Unbreakable. Clive meets Joshua's soft flutter of a kiss with a careful touch of hand to hair, lingering anxiety regarding the sickness under his brother's skin making all of his gestures more muted, tentative. ]
I want more for you than 'enough'.
[ It seems such a cruel thing to consign Joshua to. 'Enough'. But Clive doesn't push it, not wanting to spend precious time arguing over the things they currently can't fight for, and so he relents to his brother's request as best he can manage－
－which really just boils down to giving the bed his deadweight. Sleep is not an option for him, in case anything worsens while Joshua closes his eyes; there are limited supplies in the room and threats all around them in this cursed castle, and all he can see when he shutters his eyelids is the bright red of Joshua's blood pooling between his teeth.
Another nightmare to add to his piles. Fine. Let Sanbreque lord this one victory over him. They won't have the satisfaction of knowing about it. ]
...We'll speak of the future once our work here is done. Close your eyes, brother－ let the Phoenix tend to you for a while.
[ And, like that, seconds bleed into minutes bleed into hours. The sun resumes its slow crawl on the opposite side of the earth, and takes its time screaming back up over the horizon, while Clive remains floating in that nebulous space between wakefulness and half-dreaming, stroking gold hair and replaying fraught memories in the safety of his head. ]
[Joshua sleeps quickly, easily. His body needs it, his eikon demands those hours of rest as it works to repair the damage done. As he slips into sleep, Joshua worries briefly that he might not wake, might sleep for far too long - just as he did after Phoenix Gate, as his body healed. But he can't avoid sleep, so he simply has to trust that the damage isn't so terrible.
He needs the rest, and his own anxiety is soothed by having Clive so near. Deep down, he thinks that if Clive is there he'll always be safe. Joshua probably always will believe that, no matter what might happen. It lets him relax, lets him steal a few scant hours in which to heal.
It isn't enough. When he wakes, his body still aches, still feels weak. It's better, at least, that much is true, but even as Joshua blinks sleep from his eyes he feels the tired disappointment of knowing that it will take longer for him to heal. He knew that already - such a strong poison, he should simply feel lucky to be alive - but he's impatient, he wants to no longer be vulnerable.
But it's better. Perhaps only a little bit, but it is.
The first thing his eyes rest on is Clive. It feels right to have him there, as if he should always be near when Joshua wakes. Such a selfish, spoiled thought, but how can he help but have it? He's still sleepy, still only just awake, when he asks softly:]
Did you sleep at all?
[Joshua thinks he knows the answer, but he asks anyway. And his voice sounds better, not so raw, the damage to his throat healing.]
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no subject
It's devastating. As devastating as the thought of finding happiness with a Joshua-shaped hole carved out of his soul. Clive can't even begin to imagine what that would look like, what that would feel like. Ever since he was a child, he only knew happiness in the context of his brother's smiles, in the purpose it gave him to become stronger and more capable to fulfill the duty of being his brother's protector.
What is happiness, exactly? What is it, if not giving yourself wholly to someone you love more than yourself? He tries to reconcile that preconceived notion with Joshua's request that he retain himself even in Joshua's absence, and it...
...feels impossible. He doesn't say so, obviously. ]
―It's my role to make sure nothing happens to you. [ As gently as he can manage, without denying his brother outright. No part of him wants this to become a disagreement. ] And I'd like to keep it as long as I can. Until I'm old and grey.
[ Which is a concession, to some extent. It's not that I want to die, in different terms. He tries for a smile that doesn't land― more a flinch than anything, but there was an attempt― and he finally, finally lowers himself down again.
(There's no care spent to reassess the optics of this. Him, shirtless and stripped down to his trousers, and Joshua, wrapped in his shirt and pulled close to his chest. If someone comes to check on the both of them somehow, they'll see what they see.) ]
...So I'll have to do my utmost to keep swatting flies.
[ A sigh, as he settles under covers. ] The Imperials may shift back to courting you again. [ If what Anabella said before at their door is any indication of what she'll push for in the future, Clive means. ] And I don't intend to return to Rosalith without you.
no subject
[He will be mature tomorrow, when he has to be. When he faces Sylvestre and all the other nobles who will surely want a peek at him - to see how awful he might look, how close to death he was, so they can gossip about it afterwards. Joshua knows he can handle it, knows a night of rest won't give him back all his strength but it'll give him enough for that.
It helps, more than he can say, that Clive is there. That he will be allowed, hopefully, to fall asleep in his brother's arms. It's greedy of him to want that when he knows how difficult, how dangerous it is - but how can he help but want it? Even as awful as he feels, having Clive so close warms him in a way that's not nearly as innocent as it ought to be.]
They can try, and in return I'll wring as many concessions out of them as I can before we return home. [And if that's the only way he gets justice for this, it will be enough. If Rosaria ends up safe, it will all be worth it.] They won't get my hand, though, no matter what they may offer. I will never marry.
[He rests his head against Clive. He would marry if he could, if only it were possible. But it never can be, and so he never will.
It should be a mad thought, really. This thing between them has only come to life so recently, and though Joshua is young and rather a romantic, he knows his duty and is level-headed enough that he would never think such a thing about any other relationship that was so new.
But Joshua has loved Clive for so long, trusted him for just as many years. He has wanted Clive for longer than he ought to, even knowing - certain, back then - that it could never be possible. He always thought they would spend their lives together, and he still thinks that. So it isn't so mad, in the end. It isn't.]
I'll see you when you're old and grey, someday. And you will be just as handsome.
no subject
A selfish, greedy thought. Not quite unlike Clive's plans for the following morning, to find the brightest crimson silks that his brother packed to dress him in, and to wear something just as red to match. Not a speck of white on either of their bodies if they can help it, standing tall and proud like the twin flames that they are.
(Clive has not been invited to stand vigil during Joshua's audience with Sylvestre.
Clive will invite himself.)
The subject of marriage pries Clive away from what constitutes as pettiness on his part, and his eyes widen as he digests the declaration, though they've already spoken in heated terms about how they're only meant for one another. It's a terrible thing to be happy about the thought of his brother being deprived of something as fundamental as marriage, but still－ ]
－And you'll be older, and even more beautiful.
[ Joshua, who the uncharitable members of the Rosarian nobility said wouldn't live past eight summers. Look at him now, stronger and far more radiant than bards could ever sing of; it makes Clive's heart full just to think of the trials that his brother survived to be where he is now, a stunning young man full of healing fire. ]
We'll walk along the beach of Port Isolde, and watch the spires of Castle Rosalith from afar.
[ His voice grows lower, more hushed. ]
And we'll speak of this day, and laugh about how they failed to keep us apart.
no subject
But this gentle future, side by side still when they're old and grey, is something that could happen. If they're careful, if they live through everything the world throws at them, they can have that someday.
Joshua raises himself from where he's been contentedly resting against Clive, letting his brother's warmth relax him, and tugs him close for a soft kiss. Indulgent, wistful.]
It's all I could ask for.
[Too weary for more than that simple kiss, he rests against Clive again. They both need to sleep soon, in preparation for the trials they'll face on the morrow. Joshua hopes that he'll be able to sleep, that the twinges of pain that still haunt him will let him. Clive, too, likely won't sleep the night through, he knows. But with luck, he'll get at least a bit of rest.]
If I can't run away with you, a life where you share those moments with me will be enough.
[Even that, really, is a bit of wishful thinking. Even if they return with peace and Sanbreque's supposed friendship, there's the Iron Kingdom still to worry about, as well as the less serious but near-constant threat of bandits and monsters. Clive always takes it upon himself, and Joshua cannot force him to do anything else, and so they will part again, he knows.
But until then, Joshua will steal whatever moments with Clive that he can.]
Rest, brother. You've done so much for me today.
no subject
Still, they have what they have. Unbreakable. Clive meets Joshua's soft flutter of a kiss with a careful touch of hand to hair, lingering anxiety regarding the sickness under his brother's skin making all of his gestures more muted, tentative. ]
I want more for you than 'enough'.
[ It seems such a cruel thing to consign Joshua to. 'Enough'. But Clive doesn't push it, not wanting to spend precious time arguing over the things they currently can't fight for, and so he relents to his brother's request as best he can manage－
－which really just boils down to giving the bed his deadweight. Sleep is not an option for him, in case anything worsens while Joshua closes his eyes; there are limited supplies in the room and threats all around them in this cursed castle, and all he can see when he shutters his eyelids is the bright red of Joshua's blood pooling between his teeth.
Another nightmare to add to his piles. Fine. Let Sanbreque lord this one victory over him. They won't have the satisfaction of knowing about it. ]
...We'll speak of the future once our work here is done. Close your eyes, brother－ let the Phoenix tend to you for a while.
[ And, like that, seconds bleed into minutes bleed into hours. The sun resumes its slow crawl on the opposite side of the earth, and takes its time screaming back up over the horizon, while Clive remains floating in that nebulous space between wakefulness and half-dreaming, stroking gold hair and replaying fraught memories in the safety of his head. ]
no subject
He needs the rest, and his own anxiety is soothed by having Clive so near. Deep down, he thinks that if Clive is there he'll always be safe. Joshua probably always will believe that, no matter what might happen. It lets him relax, lets him steal a few scant hours in which to heal.
It isn't enough. When he wakes, his body still aches, still feels weak. It's better, at least, that much is true, but even as Joshua blinks sleep from his eyes he feels the tired disappointment of knowing that it will take longer for him to heal. He knew that already - such a strong poison, he should simply feel lucky to be alive - but he's impatient, he wants to no longer be vulnerable.
But it's better. Perhaps only a little bit, but it is.
The first thing his eyes rest on is Clive. It feels right to have him there, as if he should always be near when Joshua wakes. Such a selfish, spoiled thought, but how can he help but have it? He's still sleepy, still only just awake, when he asks softly:]
Did you sleep at all?
[Joshua thinks he knows the answer, but he asks anyway. And his voice sounds better, not so raw, the damage to his throat healing.]