Ruairi | Water | Freyja <3

For the better half of his night, amid the steady decline of his magic’s capabilities, the last words Freyja said to him echoed between his conscious and subconscious mind as all parts of himself tried to make sense of them. Even in the moment it had happened, Ru had only found himself staring at her as if he was waiting for her to walk back on what she said, or tell him she didn’t mean to say it because of the state she was in. It almost felt like one of those vulnerable thoughts she would occasionally only ever share with him if she were drunk, which were comparably easier to digest in the way he could convince himself her loose lips only divulged false sentiments. What she had told him without the accompaniment of inebriation though gave him the dangerous impression that he could trust what she said, or worse, believe it. And if he was any less convinced her mind would change sooner rather than later, he might have let himself hope.

<//////////>

“Ru, wake up.”

Groggy-impaired Ru was not averse to the gentle touch on his face as he opened his eyes, not remembering exactly when he had fallen asleep, but adjusting his waking gaze onto the same face he had fallen asleep looking at. As his functions and slough of thoughts he had traded out for a few hours of sleep caught up to his orienting consciousness, he sat up straighter, distancing his face from her hand - finding it not so easy to relax into her touch when he was greeted by the dull ache of the scar on his back again. To relieve it, and of himself of countless other feelings Freyja often evoked in him, he maintained a level mask with more formality than necessary with her before he had vowed to bring her food, and made what he believed to be the simple request of asking her to stay put.

Ruairi had every intention of invisibly entering the span of the busy dining room, collecting a few light items from the display of food in view onto a single plate and carrying it back to his room. However, he felt himself being preyed upon by the poltergeist of his life and its bride. Standing at the head of the table and discussing private affairs he didn’t want to hear, his parents paused to spectate him. They had always treated him with the distance of a guinea pig that had developed autonomy and an opinion of its own. However, ever since he had brought Freyja home, the scrutiny both silent and non had been immeasurably smothering.

“No good morning, son?” Verlin asked with less offense and more complex amusement.

Having not relented from giving them the view of his side profile, Ru suddenly felt disgusting. He wanted to change the clothes he had fallen asleep in. He wanted to shower and wash away the weight of yesterday. Most of all, he wanted to be cleansed of this parental torment.

“Good morning, Sir,” he addressed, pausing as he absently placed toast onto the plate before addressing his mother. “Ma’am.”

Not even as a child had he been able to grow an attachment to the title of ‘mother’ and ‘father’. It bred unhealthy reliance, they told him. They were his superiors and that hierarchy was to be respected. It was lonely, but he had known no different until the academy. He had been molded to adopt the perception that the stories of ‘mommies and daddies’ and other unnecessarily happy bonds within mundane families were meant for those who were too weak in both mind and body to stand alone. However, that had never satiated the jealousy he had felt when parents had come to visit and praise their children’s achievements, or simply check in with them. Sometimes, in such a sick way, he still found himself craving that same kind of approval from his parents that looked so easily won by everybody else.

“How is it?” His mother, Laoise, asked in a neutral manner of tone despite the blunt lack of sensitivity. She often dressed for the life she wanted and had achieved - wealthily, with her golden walnut-colored hair pulled into neat displays, the formal dresses and shawls she wore, to the rich displays of jewelry that consistently decorated her person. Where Ruairi had considered himself to be more in the image of his father, he found himself having adopted subtle mannerisms and variations of expression from his mother. Where his father made little effort to conceal emotions that would otherwise be better off contained for Ru’s sake, his mother was more careful in guarding her true thoughts, as well as intentions. Something he had learned over time was how to hide himself in her stead, though he wondered whether she was so measured because she was a coward, or if she was a monster to the same degree his father was.

“She is still asleep,” Ruairi replied, finding it in himself to casually turn to face them, knowing it better to meet their eyes than refuse whatever challenge this conversation might have been. “I wish I had ample time to conversate, but I still have those files you gave me to review in my study, which I imagine we can mutually agree is where my time is better spent.” It had been a convincing enough declaration to be blessed with a nod from his father.

“As you were then,” Verlin replied with a serpentine smile, with Ruairi having turned away to try and spare his focus onto putting conscious effort into what to feed someone who hasn’t eaten in so long. The pickiness, he knew, might have struck his parents as a little odd, but not so out of character that they ceased the progression of the conversation they had picked back up.

While he would have been a fool to disregard and block out his surroundings, he lingered when one of his father’s personal lackeys frantically scampered into the room and exchanged some kind of tense conversation. He hoped it was another situation of interest that had arisen and required his attention beyond the estate.

Hope was abandoned when the entrance of another cast a heavy blanket over the atmosphere, and the silence from his parents alone spurred Ruairi to lift his gaze toward the entrance to see Freyja, reliant on an individual in his home he didn’t even know the name of. Swallowing something thick as Freyja’s expression lifted in a smile he wished could have been used in a better situation, he found himself less surprised that Freyja was capable of theatrics regardless of how close to death she still seemed, and more concerned for her well-being in the vicinity of the people he had desperately wanted to keep her away from.

As she announced her status of life, Ruairi felt the subdued heat of unspoken fury directed toward him, but that was a kind of heat he knew how to endure, which he would surely feel the flames of later. With Laoise’s insistence of the help to leave Freyja’s side, Ru found himself a little in awe of her ability to stand with so much authority about her despite how fragile he had seen her just hours ago.

“I'd say it's nice to finally meet you, but that's yet to be decided. I suppose I'm more surprised to find out that you exist considering the fact that I attended school with your son for twelve years and you couldn’t even be bothered once to show up for him when it counted.”

Ruairi observed his father maintain a thin smile of his own, not without knowing there was a tempered rage hidden behind the expression, but more chilling was the morbid fascination he didn’t care to repress. “You speak of attendance as if it can be used as a measure of care. Actions, not presence, define a parent - though I understand if your own, perhaps, instilled a different impression,” the cutting insinuation he delivered hinted at something dark that he was wholly entertained by. “In any case, I think it is lovely to finally meet someone I have heard so much about.”

The end of Verlin’s response ushered in the actions of Ruairi being able to function in a space that seemed so unbreathable as he set the plate in his hand aside and came to Freyja’s side as she became unsteady. Surprised by his own lack of hesitation to wrap his arm around the fire element’s waist to be the crutch she needed, he found it hard to not be a little impaired by the proximity he was to her. Freyja hardly felt as warm as she should have been and that reality made him frustrated that she didn’t stay in bed, wrapped in blankets, to maintain her warmth. As much as he had learned the benefit of practicing detachment in his parent's presence, Ru knew he couldn’t be so cruel as to practice such a thing on Freyja regardless of the dangers it posed.

After her squeak of a greeting, Ruairi couldn’t decide whether he wanted to smile or chide her. “Hi,” the blond parroted in a softer yet level tone. Stuck between a rock and a hard place now between all of the people who had the most impression on his life in one room, he found it impossible to appear comfortable.

“What a touching display of chivalry, son. I was under the impression you lacked that kind of manner from the hysterics of Miss Valestienne following your rejection of such a perfect young woman,” Verlin mused, as if he had been truly amazed by the sight, taking it upon himself to leave his stoically silent wife’s side to pick up the plate Ruairi had abandoned and walk it to where the pair stood together. Ru found himself tensing, and wanting to recoil from his father’s direct presence, but it was overshadowed by a sense of assertive protection he felt toward Freyja. Taking the plate with his free hand, his father’s gaze traveled over both him and Freyja with intrigue, and something else Ruairi could not place.

“I hope we can all sit together over a meal and have a proper conversation when you’re in better health,” Verlin addressed Freyja, smiling before placing a hand on Ruairi’s shoulder and giving it a familiar squeeze. “I’ll be looking forward to a more private discussion with you in my office whenever you’re available after dinner.”

Ruairi could not have ushered himself and Freyja out quick enough, for her sake alone. Once they were a safe distance from where his parents were inhabiting, and wanting to give Freyja a small break from being on her feet, he sat her down at a window seat that oversaw a considerable stretch of the estate’s garden. Sitting beside her following a hand raking through his hair, he turned the focus of his blue eyes directly to Freyja and offered her the plate. “I distinctly remember telling you to stay in the room,” he started, sighing with a subtle shake of his head. “This isn’t the academy, Freyja. Being tolerated or feared here is not enough to keep you safe in a realm where actions taken against users of your kind of magic are cruel and unkind.” Even if Freyja’s magic was gone, it would not change what she was in the eyes of everyone who would refuse to see her as anything other than a threat.

Turning his head away, ensuring the hall was devoid of any activity for now, Ruairi pinched the bridge of his nose. “I will give you a proper tour when you can stand on your own two feet, but you cannot just wander this place without me and I am telling you this for your own good,” he stressed to her, but he couldn’t be worrying about her safety more than he already was by her being anywhere in his home without him. He wondered if he would have been any better than what she already had at the academy if he just kept her locked away in his room, or bound to this place the same way he was. She had been a prisoner at the academy, and the last thing he wanted was for her to be imprisoned here too in the same way that he was.

Looking back at her, his demeanor softened as his gaze took in the sight of the dress she still wore. It was a reminder he no longer wanted to have following him, and so it needed to change. “Maybe in time I’ll get to take you to the inner part of the capital to go shopping for clothes, but until then, I’d like for you to defer your clothing preferences to one of my retainers so they can run the errand on your behalf.” With a thoughtful pause, he plucked a small cube of cheese he had put on her plate and ate it before he added, “At the very least, despite everything, I want you to be as comfortable as possible. If you need anything, I’ll do what I can to provide it.” Even if there was a lot to still be said and shared, Ruairi wanted her to know that he truly had her best interest of care ahead of anything else. In some sense, he wanted to believe that even if she hated him, he could make her stay with him convenient enough that staying would be in her better interest, or at least delay any desire she had to go elsewhere through his attempts.

Ruairi | Water | Freyja

“Why won’t you fight with me? Your dad doesn’t know how to hit me where it hurts like you do. The parent comment was a good try, though. You’re still mad?”

Ruairi returned her studious gaze, trying to determine what exactly she was looking to accomplish with what she was saying. Perhaps he’s just spent so much time lately around people who always concealed their own agendas and withheld their intentions when interacting with him, but he suspected Freyja was attempting something similar. Why couldn’t anything be superficial? Why couldn’t anyone just say what they really meant to him? All too quickly he realized he was a hypocrite, though. Especially when it came to Freyja, having his own vast collection of information he hadn’t been privy to sharing with her. He was mad to some degree for various reasons, yes, but more than that he was afraid.

“I’m mad, but not for whatever reasons you may think I am,” the blond replied factly, unwilling to elaborate any further, if only because he was still dodging and weaving a conversation that was eating away at him for neglecting. As Freyja had slumped against the window, Ru found himself more invested in wanting to ask how she felt and getting her the rest of the way back to his room, only to be shut down by the premise of her mouth opening. Initially, Ruairi had found himself watching her expression with suppressed anxiousness, only to avert his attention forward when she referenced what he had done to Heris. It’s not as if he could have ever forgotten such a pivotal moment, not when he wouldn’t let himself. Consciously curling his fingers, he applied pressure to the hidden marks of his gloved palms, assuring himself that forgiveness was not something he could ever treat himself to.

“I didn’t think it was going to work, I thought I’d be dead right now.”

It was too little too late for him to realize the fatal error in wishing to hear anyone say what they meant, especially with everything pouring out of Freyja’s mouth. Of course, he had been waiting for this, but he did not feel any level of comfort knowing that the thing he had been anticipating from her was actually happening. More unbearable than the resentment she held toward what he perceived as him and the reality of living, was the idea she thought that she and Henriik were truly paired. The notion made him feel more ill than she looked.

Silence on his part was something he considered a brooding stoicism, though as she refused to let up in verbally tearing him apart, the guilt he’d been harboring and the implications of her words were making him angry, though still not entirely in the way she had accused. A barely contained outburst was boiling beneath his surface, only tempered by focusing his internal rage into the action of tightly clenching his jaw. He had thought it easier not to look directly into her eyes as she spoke, because he didn’t want to see the genuine loathing she was unmasking for him.

“It was just a kiss, they were just words. None of it really mattered in the end, did it?”

Having found the ability to turn his storming gaze onto her, for just a moment there was a color of devastation that trickled into the blue abyss that had fixated on her, only for him to counter the feeling with rage. “Whatever you say,” he found himself replying with a cold resignation. Even being told something so frustrating, for a brief moment he tortured himself with the idea that it truly could have just been him who made a mountain of a moment out of a molehill of an act on her part. After all they had learned together, he had believed things could be different. But never did he stop to ponder whether Freyja actually wanted that to be the case.

No longer finding the emotional capacity to offer his help to her for the time being, he silently stewed on the one-sided conversation. Why did he always let her do this to him? It was pathetic how dedicated he was to living out the definition of insanity with her. Even as she began talking toward him again, he guarded himself from being any more afflicted by what she had to say. Rising from his own seated position after there seemed to be a longer break in her assault, Ruairi found anything but Freyja to be something to fixate his gaze on.

“I hope you’re not mad that I talked to your parents like that, it’s the only opportunity I’ll ever get and someone needed to stick up for you, even if it’s out of character for me to be so kind and humanitarian.”

Rather than expressing any shred of appreciation he might have felt earlier, he couldn’t help but stare at Freyja like he might have resented her as much as he did his parents. “Your thoughtfulness never ceases to amaze me,” was the sarcastic comment he chose to make, releasing a sharp sigh in unison to the tilt of his head away from her again. She was ignorant of the full scope of the situation, and that was his fault, but he hated how it felt like he was being emotionally tossed around. For every one thing she did or said to soften him, Freyja managed to do a thousand more to cripple him. The gentle touch she offered on his shoulder was probably the first time he did not allow himself to react to her touch, not when he had the urge to grab her wrist, sit her back down, and tell her how wrong she was about everything. About them. About him. Everything.

The irony of what she chose to humor herself with about the span of knowledge he allegedly lacked, a small scoff captured a fraction of the growing desire he was beginning to have to shove down her throat just how much truth he carried. Staring with a blank expression as Freyja decided to toss her last few comments she had for him over her shoulder, he decided out of some spark of childish spite that he wouldn’t rest at all. If she could make such strong decisions about her life, her death, plans to live without him, then at the very least, he could make a decision that didn’t cater to her in any way.

<////////////////>

In retrospect, so adamantly deciding against rest to stare and study legalities and contracts unique to the ways his realm's government operated just seemed like a punishment intended to bore him to death. It was an excruciating death, completely unlike the one he had already experienced. His head found itself tipping into the comfort of his hand as he turned the hundredth page to something he found himself hating for comprehending, he also could not deny the exhaustion that had come with what he had done prior to this commitment in a fit after he had stormed into his study.

While it had been a nice break to shift dull aches from the scar on his back for a while, his right palm burned in protest of having been sliced open for little more than to soothe an emotional outburst. The moment they shared at the cabin didn’t seem like nothing though, which was all he had been desperate to prove to himself. Indulging in that memory Freyja seemed to have found so easy to discard only walked him down the road of reliving Heris’ death again, and while he sat here dwelling on these things for the millionth time, he had to ask himself whether he might have been some kind of closeted masochist who enjoyed torture of varying degrees.

Tensing as he felt a light hand on his shoulder, he hated that he knew who the hand belonged to before he even turned and inclined his head to look at her. Freya’s tease only beckoned a subtle scowl to claim his countenance before he rolled his eyes, too tired from his own personal escapade to not react in the ways he wanted to.

“You look upset, which is why I’m going to ask you to take me for a tour of your house instead of taking a self-guided tour and making you angry later. Or, at least a few rooms? Are you in or am I going to have to walk around this dangerous warzone all on my own, which I hear from my sources is absolutely terrible for someone of my status, looks, and charisma?”

“Don’t pretend you’re asking something of me for my own good,” the blond started his response with as he stood from his desk and turned, though looked past her and toward the door versus actually looking at her. Being stuck on memories and how she had looked at him within those, he knew his weariness was dangerous in terms of sharing what he was feeling through expression. “I’ll walk you through a few rooms, you don’t look capable of being able to endure a full building walk-through.”

Deciding to only guide Freyja to places he actually valued, among that list was the wine cellar, to which he went into a brief history and rules, as well as information on which wines were even worth getting into. Dodging the dining room he decided she had seen enough of for the day, Ruairi showed her the pantries which never went a day without holding enough food to feed an army. As he decided to end his tour with the manor library, which was easily one of the largest rooms of the building, he found its privacy relieving. There was little need for anyone else to enter the space, and only lately has Ru been the one to utilize the library for his gain.

Running a hand over his hair as he watched Freyja take in the new space, he found himself agitated by it, and for no current reason, upset she had only criticized his haircut. It wasn’t that bad. She was wrong, Freyja was so wrong about so many things, and knowing he had the power to shatter whatever pleasure she had in the illusion of being right was more attractive than he had previously let himself believe. “You’re not always right, you know,” Ruairi abruptly inserted into the silence. “I’m not mad about you being mean, you’ve been like that for practically the entire time that I’ve known you. No, what makes me angry is that you so selfishly believe you know everything, so much so you don’t even ask why I killed Heris in the first place, you assumed I did it because you believe I’m capable of hating you to the same degree that you very clearly hate me. There’s no room for explanation though when Freyja is always right, isn’t that true? There couldn’t possibly be any other reason besides the one you came to the conclusion of.”

Ru felt like he had a delayed reaction to the conversation he had previously remained primarily silent in, though perhaps it was his own varying levels of exhaustion and months of internalization that were clawing their way out in the form of a heated vent. Pacing a portion of the space in his immediate vicinity, he flexed his hands in and out of fists as he continued his tirade. “If none of it really ever mattered to you, if you so desperately wanted to die, then at the very least I do owe you an apology for saving your life on so many separate occasions. But I’ll start specifically with being sorry that I killed Heris that night before she killed you first, I should have been a better boyfriend and turned a blind eye to her homicidal conquest. Most of all, I’m sorry that I intervened in the pairing ceremony after you tried to kill yourself, because it just might drive you to insanity knowing who you’re truly tethered to, for what I’ve been told is forever, is me.”

Slowing his angry stride, mostly because being angry was only further exhausting himself, he began to cool, though he couldn’t meet her eyes. “I can’t discard things that happened as easily as you can. I don’t know how you expect me to forget, when I have spent months remembering,” gesturing toward her loosely with a flick of his hand, he continued in a lower tone, “The worst part about any of this is that I am still incapable of despising you in every way I should, in every way I’ve wished I could. I just can’t. I can’t let you go. I couldn’t stand it when you mouthed goodbye at the ceremony. I couldn’t yield to accepting you were never going to wake up, and couldn’t bring myself to believe that trying was a waste.” Running his hand down the length of his mouth, he momentarily covered his mouth as he briefly reflected on everything it had spilled, yet he could only bring himself to sigh.

“The only thing I hate about you, Freyja, is that I can’t actually hate you, no matter how hard I’ve tried.” Ruairi ended as he turned himself away from her, feeling as if he might have shed ten pounds he had been storing in his chest. There was no response of any kind he expected from her, especially after bombarding her so abruptly. Quite frankly, Ru wasn’t even sure he wanted to hear anything she had to say, anyway. It would be easier if she acted in the way that seemed all too easy for her to indulge in, which would be to forget he said any of this. As much as he had thought it possible to at least keep her in his company, even at arm's length, he came to the realization that what had been killing him the most was the fact that he knew he couldn’t.

In the end, maybe everything he had done and whatever more he could do wouldn’t matter. Maybe it never had the potential to. If Freyja says so, then surely it must be true.

Ruairi | Water | Freyja

“I don’t know what to say.”

Looking back at Freyja and witnessing the fear in her eyes only made more of a mess of everything he was feeling. Ruairi didn’t want to make sense of what he saw in her, possessing some fraction of self-preservation that could safeguard him from the things that could cripple him was all he wanted to hold onto. Even so, as she continued an emotional yet crushingly more pragmatic approach to their reality, Ru found himself locked in a state of painful realization. In all the time he spent waiting, he never thought further ahead than the possibility of her waking up, declaring her loathing, and leaving. His perspective for the entire time he had worked through processing everything was warped by feelings versus logic. As he considered their situation more critically, his gaze fixated on the presence of Freyja’s tears and the expressions she wore, he felt his heart begin to palpitate.

A sudden rain began to fall and Ruairi had found both his sight and attention straying upward before it drifted toward the window. With an adjustment of his standing position, the impossibility of what he was watching made his mind momentarily blank. The simultaneous volatility of the fountains was something he was slowly striving to accomplish the mastery of, but what he was watching was not something he could manifest. Turning back toward Freyja, more prepared to defend himself about what was occurring, the stance she had taken was synonymous with how she would carry herself with her own magic when arguing. He knew because it reminded him to be on guard enough to avoid getting burned.

Finding himself at Freyja’s side after she hit the floor, the abrupt cease in the aquatic chaos outside left Ruairi with so many more questions and concerns than he had walked in here with. While he knew it was expected to be able to share in small amounts of magic when paired, it didn’t take a genius to see that what had just occurred was not by any means a small usage of magic. How she could use such an intense extent of what he could, he wasn’t sure he could even begin to fathom.

</////////////>

As much as Ruairi didn’t enjoy leaving Freyja alone, he couldn’t help but to step outside into the garden to survey the aftermath for himself. While the areas of the garden affected by the water surge weren’t terribly flooded, what was leftover was a clear indication of something completely unfeasible. Using his already strained magic for the purpose of evaporating the excess moisture in an effort to clean up the mess that Freyja had seemed to have made, he was not surprised to find himself joined by his father.

“I’d say I’m impressed,” Verlin would begin with an expression of both intrigue and scrutiny, “but I know your capabilities well enough to know you’re not the executor of this event so deserving of my amazement.”

“We’re supposed to talk after dinner,” Ru replied in a flat tone, choosing to calm himself in the moment through his focus on his magic.

“And you were supposed to have thrown this girl’s company away years ago,” he replied, with Ru having little need to look at him directly to hear the smile in his tone. “However, things seem to change.” After a pause, just for the appeal of watching Ruairi try so hard to feign indifference, he continued, “Your mother and I have decided we should have that dinner together between us and the walking disaster you brought home tonight. Establishing a clearer path of what your future holds is important enough to be addressed as soon as possible, and I have no doubts you and your most precious possession are equally looking forward to celebrating what your sacrifice led to.”

Saying all he had come to, and getting no verbal engagement from Ru, Verlin had only chuckled to himself before granting Ruairi the peace of his absence. Feeling nothing short of dread, the water element found himself too out of touch with self-control to use his magic any longer, feeling its use flicker and fade from his grasp and becoming more acutely aware of his heartbeat.

<///////////>

Wishing Freyja wouldn’t wake up after the aftermath of something he genuinely didn’t know how to process or explain, he hoped it would give him the only viable excuse to skip dinner. After what happened in the library Ru didn’t particularly want her moving around, let alone eating with his parents, which Ruairi was also not fond of doing in general. Finding it hard to close his eyes as he grasped in vain toward a peace that did not exist within him, after only a handful of moments did he hear subtle moving in the bed. Why wouldn’t she wake up and further inconvenience him? He had the strange urge to laugh quietly to himself about just how unfortunate most waking moments of his life have been lately.

Seeing Freyja smile in the darkness of his room brought him at the very least something to study. The evident weariness that came with the simple expression was something that further convinced Ru that she shouldn’t be getting up at all, that dinner was an unnecessary event to be endured tonight. “Hi,” he replied, offering her a thin smile that was empty of emotion.

“It was a terrible idea to give me a tour of the house, I can’t believe I let you talk me into that.”

Maybe if he didn’t know what was to come in such a short amount of time, Ru might have actually appreciated her humor, even if it was only a little. As he came to survey her features though, he saw more of himself in the way Freyja was concealing what she might have been both thinking and feeling, but now was definitely not the time he wanted to know whatever it was that she was keeping to herself. Rubbing the back of his neck as he further braced himself to accept what was to be expected of them, he sighed. “I have an even worse idea,” he said with a pained smile. “The only proper end to such a disastrous tour should be dinner with my parents in the dining room.” Allowing the time for it to filter that what he said was less of a suggestion and more of an impending reality, Ru's foot began to tap while his hands grasped the top of his knees.

“There's still an hour, give or take, until dinner is scheduled to begin. If you want more time to gather yourself, I'll stall,” rising from the chair, flexing his hands in and out of anxious fists, he added, “until then, you know where I can be found resting.”

<///////////>

Dinner felt more like an opportunity for Ruairi’s parents to talk around both him and Freyja rather than to them, and in ways Ru understood all too well, was more of an act of subtle retribution. It was hard to focus on a conversation he wasn’t really meant to have any say in. Giving only rehearsed nods and throwaway words that held no meaning, he felt like he was a spectator of his own life, while his mind drifted elsewhere. In all the places his mind had tried to seek refuge, it only found islands of confusion, despair, and rage to crash into. There was no happy place for him to go to, and he wondered when exactly he had lost that.

“As much as I understand how soon and insensitive this may seem to push for, given the circumstances,” Laoise had begun, particularly allowing her hazel eyes to note Freyja in a way similar to how she had watched her more closely throughout dinner. “I very much suggest we invest in the finalization of your pairing through hosting the traditional celebrations here. This will have been leaked more publicly sooner rather than later anyway, I’d suggest we stay ahead of any weeds of gossip before it spreads.” While Laoise did not smile, she didn’t particularly sound cold or unkind. That is what Ruairi found most difficult when dealing with his mother, however. Superficially she seemed neutral enough to mean no harm, and yet her past actions otherwise were a stark contrast to the facade.

“It doesn’t really matter who offers the news to the public, they’ll digest it all the same and come to the conclusion that Freyja - former user of fire magic or not - is still a lingering threat to their safety and livelihoods because it is the only education we have never relented in shoving down the throats of everyone within the realm.” Ruairi had found himself replying, shaking his head in disagreement. While he should have known the celebrations were bound to happen, or be addressed eventually, he didn’t understand why there was so much urgency in ushering it all in right now. Not when he couldn’t think properly, not when he was sweating in an excessive way that was not lost on him, and not when he could barely manage to hold the utensil in his hand without repressing the betrayal of his hand's tremors.

Even in such a state, the sheer gravity of holding celebrations that would only place Freyja in a position both uncomfortable and dangerous did not escape him. Would she even be willing to smile and pretend, or would she find pleasure in publicly leveling him for both his people and parents to see? Not to mention the fact he could very easily be thrown to the wolves when it comes to addressing concerns by people of both power and non about the pairing, especially as the alleged successor of his parent's authority. Who would accept the mere idea of even a former fire magic wielder as their superior here? Ruairi could only see ridicule and protest in his future now that he was daring himself to think about it all, and if he didn’t have the future he had been groomed to believe was the only thing fate had in store for him, what the hell was the point to anything?

Knowing his parents were offering counters to his concerns, he couldn’t hear them over the sound of his heart pounding in his ears as he abruptly dropped his silverware onto the untouched plate he had in front of him. Being crushed by what felt like the weight of an ocean was a difficult kind of pain to tolerate, and as he wiped the back of his hand across his slick forehead, the sensation of every bone being broken in his chest and his ribs being shattered became too much to not react to. “Excuse me,” was all he could force out of his throat in what he had struggled to get out in a controlled tone, rising from his seat and wasting no time before leaving the room.

As he felt like he was dying on the way to his room, he told himself he had no one to blame for this searing agony but himself. Every decision he’s made for the better half of a decade has led him further and further into a derailment of the life he had so easily planned out for him. He could have lived without needing to think, it could have been so much easier. It could have hurt so much less, even if it had been a life weathered alone. The closer he got to his room, the more he felt like needing to crawl in order to make it the rest of the way. Ru couldn’t breathe beneath the weight of what was killing him, and he could hardly see straight as he stumbled through the door and clumsily managed to get into the bathroom.

Having turned the water of his shower on, the only collectively conscious thought he had was to step into the lukewarm rush of liquid, fully clothed and falling back against the wall. The blood rushing to his head made him feel hot and disorientingly dizzy, his ability to speak at all taken and strangled into a tormented silence. His eyes closed, restraining whatever tears could have manifested from the excruciating level of distress and pain he found himself in as he slid down the wall soaking wet, succumbing to an impossible pressure breaking apart his body from within. In previous attacks like this, he had usually found himself being able to think rationally enough to know he was not dying, but this time he could not convince his body that what it was being put through was anything other than its end. Helplessly he found himself at the mercy of shallow breaths that didn’t seem to fill his lungs, and his hands grasping at his chest as if with enough focus they could tear it open and relieve him of this impossible weight. This time though, he didn’t have the strength to fight for himself, not when in a moment of such immense weakness he didn’t even know what he truly had to fight for at all.

Ruairi | Water | Freyja

“Hey.”

It took a few seconds before Ruairi had processed and accepted Freyja’s presence, though not happily initially. Battling himself though, the only protest he could express in her seeing him so crippled was a few shakes of his head. There was a sliver of thought that passed through his muddled mind about Freyja and the danger of water, finding it more comprehensible to consider someone else versus coming to terms with the destructive weight that was killing him. Praying to die before he opened his eyes, Ru turned his head a fraction to see through the fog clouding his vision, with the most distinctive thing about Freyja to him right now being her hair. It was very red. Had it always been?

“Let’s get you out of the shower, okay?”

His blue eyes begged to plead that it was impossible to move, that there was too little oxygen in his lungs and too great of a mass breaking him to be able to get up. It was cruel, he thought to himself, for her to smile at him like she believed he could do it. Regrettably, his face had leaned into the hand on the side of his face, closing his eyes again to stitch himself together enough strength to manifest energy he didn’t have to move. After what felt like could have been blurred hours of strangled breaths and tormentingly slow movement, he had come to register he no longer had the stimuli of the shower’s water to anchor himself to. As much as he would have otherwise fervently tried to conceal himself when it came to expressing such raw pain and vulnerability, he was thankful that of all the people who could have possibly found him in such a condition, it was Freyja.

“I can’t breathe,” Ru would tell her a time or two as he slowly succumbed to leaning into Freyja, accepting and appreciating the sensation of not feeling like he was dying alone. It felt more than foreign to have someone to physically lean on in a moment like this, being able to recall no time before where there had been anyone to sit with him, and at least silently assure him the world wasn’t as cold as his trembling limbs were convinced to believe otherwise.

“Your face is flushed.”

Ruairi had never actually visibly witnessed what he must have looked like during the entirety of a panic attack, so he was inclined to believe whatever Freyja commented. It couldn’t have been impossible, considering the sickening heat that came with how unsteady the world felt even through closed eyes and something to lean on.

“I know you’ve been through a lot, it’s not good to keep all of that inside. I don’t know exactly what’s going on in your mind, but I know it’s not a good place for you to be alone. You don’t have to be strong for anyone anymore, I’m here now. You don’t have to hold in everything all the time, it’s causing you to implode.”

Finding a building clarity through Freyja’s voice and the gentle entanglement of her fingers in his butchered curls, Ru had held onto the lifeline she had thrown down to him through the sea of agony that had only promised to devour him moments before. Slowly, the metaphorical ocean began to lift and dissipate from his chest. His ribs were miraculously mending themselves, and his lungs were capable of remembering how to do their only job.

Replacing the anguish that had debilitated him, exhaustion he was more than willing to slump into blanketed Ru, only combated by the increasingly colder temperature brought on by his wet clothes that managed to seep beyond his articles of clothing and skin, numbing his bones the longer he sat with Freyja. However, he would have silently stayed like this forever if it meant never being capable of enough thought to go through the pain he just had again.

Feeling his gloves unsheathing hands, Ru gave a weak shake of his hand to try and defy the act, muttering a barely demanding, “Don’t”. They were off before he could even finish his single, breathy word. Deciding it wasn’t worth trying to look for any more negativity in his life by trying to wonder what might have been going through her head as she looked at the scars that made his palms an imperfect sight. He simply, loosely held them open for her to gauge. There was no point in hiding something he had no strength to conceal.

“What’ve you been doing to yourself?”

Internally groaning in a quiet way that was only meant to express his difficulty in encouraging his throat to open enough for him to speak, he managed a mumble. “Remembering… not letting go,” he breathed as he took a moment to collect a string of thoughts capable of forming a sentence as she began unbuttoning his shirt. “Using my magic to look at memories of us through my blood,” he articulated, being more blunt in his response to spare him using unnecessary words of explanation.

Every motion that followed Freyja tossing him a towel was a herculean effort, but Ruairi found strength he didn’t otherwise possess for the time being through the care he was given. While he had dried himself and gotten dressed, he couldn’t help but fall into the idea that Freyja actually cared about him, even if it was to a degree he could not define. Rather than try to unravel his own conclusion and spark the same doubts that had grown so out of control, Ru found himself finding acceptance in Freyja’s actions, and leaving them at that.

Eventually finding himself having chosen a side of his own bed to lay supine on, he came to realize just how much he had missed the comfort of an actual mattress to lay on. It cradled his frame in a way that a couch could never. It was even easier for him to consider falling asleep just as he was had it not been for his eyes shifting toward the emergence of Freyja. Her soft smile elicited a faint one of his own even if he could not decide what particular reason he wanted to smile for. Being greeted the same way he had been several times before, Ru treated himself to a deeper breath before responding with an equally simple and soft, “Hi.” Watching her with a calm expression as Freyja shifted her position beside him and touched his face, asking how he felt, he smiled again, but only to solidify the current truth of his reply. “Better than before,” the blond admitted plainly, and while he wouldn’t lie and say he felt like he was on top of the world, he did feel better in ways that were difficult not to feel.

It didn’t take her very long at all to trade him out for a familiarly titled book, but he wasn’t necessarily hurt or offended by the action. To Ru, that book might have had much more life in it than he did right now anyway, so in some sense, he understood the appeal. There was something a touch out of being tangible that the water element couldn’t exactly place when it came to being so close to Freyja, and furthermore in a rare state of content. The last time he had felt so assured by her presence was the kiss that had unraveled what could have been an equally taxing panic attack at the cabin, and how she hadn’t resisted him kissing her back. It wasn’t just a kiss for him, but she had said it, not him. So was there truly any need for him to verbally validate that?

"After you left, your dad said something crazy. Well, crazier than normal. He said you're in love with me."

Ruairi changed his mind in record time, deciding to begin praying for death again and not attempting to conceal how inconvenient of a topic this was for him right now. Knowing his impending reaction piqued her interest to abandon the book she had formerly picked over him, Ru watched the drop in her gaze to his lips as she studied him. Sensing the alteration in what had previously been a regular heartbeat from the insinuation her gaze had evoked, Ruairi was more annoyed she had disrupted his zen than willing to cave to whatever weak feelings that were easier to pull out of him in his tired state.

"Where do you think he got that idea?"

“The way you’re looking at me right now isn’t fair,” Ruairi had replied, leaning toward a more dramatic parroting of what she had told him earlier in the day. Taking a moment to weigh what more he could say, he decided being so picky with his thoughts was also an unnecessarily exhausting feat. “It’s not a completely wild theory he has. After all, not everyone is willing to risk throwing away their life for someone they just simply shared some throwaway words and an empty kiss with.” Ruairi gave a light shrug, as if what he had said so nonchalantly wasn’t meant to mean more than what it might have superficially. Freyja could interpret it however she wanted though, Ruairi was too tired to do the work of processing it on her behalf.

Finding his eyes straying to the ceiling as he stretched his legs out and enjoyed the option of being able to, Ruairi relinquished a long, soft breath. “I miss when we were best friends,” he admitted, smiling to himself. “Actually, I think I just miss being ignorant and blissful with you. I miss when things made sense because there was no deeper meaning or outside influence that made things any more than what they were.” Turning his head to face Freyja again, he decided to turn onto his side to feel more like he was having a conversation.

“I missed you,” Ruairi said plainly, letting there be no mistake in what he said and what he meant. “I was worried every day that you weren’t awake that I would forget you in ways that would have otherwise kept you alive in memory. During the trip we took outside of the academy, it was hard for me to cope with the reality that I had a very important memory of you, us I guess, hidden from me. But it felt stolen, and even though it was beyond my control, it had me convinced it was possible to lose other important memories of you, and memories in general.” Glancing down at his hand, studying his palm for a moment, Ruairi sighed.

“I knew how important it was for you to get answers from Heris, and while I failed at doing that while she was alive, I wanted to do everything in my power to still help you. It was the first time I put the theory of seeing someone’s past through their blood into real practice, but all that got me was seeing a few glimpses of you and me through her perspective.” Ruairi studied Freyja’s expression softly for a few moments, exhaustion building in his every breath, yet at the same time it felt better to be able to uncage things. While he would better work through the meaning of everything she had said in her efforts to calm him down, and furthermore what those sentiments meant to him, right now he was content with just being able to feel like he had a friend.

“For whatever it’s worth to you, I don’t regret intervening in the pairing ceremony,” Ru said after a moment of silence on his part, before finding a quiet laugh spill from his lips. “Come to think of it though, I don’t think we’re even at all, by the way. I’ve thought about keeping score when it comes to how many times we can save each other from stupid things, and obviously, I’m winning, but I’ll let what you just did for me tonight count as a save.”