Cyrus has been trying to catch the “god” in a godly act for weeks now, but to no avail. He isn’t even sure why he bothers, truth be told. Solis must just be confused. The man is heavenly to look at, but he is no deity.

Still… Cyrus finds his eyes on him more often than not. Part of that meant Solis accompanying them on hunts every other day. Cyrus was one part enraged and two parts aroused by the man’s stealth in the forest, while consistently proving himself to be a bumbling idiot most other times.

It could have been Cyrus’ fault that day, what happened; as he admits to being a bit distracted by Solis’ expert snare-weaving abilities and knife skills, or it might have simply been plain old bad luck. Either way, there were no gods on their side that afternoon…

Cyrus had just finished tying the third squirrel to his belt when he heard the spine-chilling whistle that meant there were Kingsmen nearby. He had taught it to all of his people, but it was used for emergencies only and to help others get away. If someone from their hunting party was using it, that meant that soldiers were getting close. Close to their camp. Thankfully, Cyrus had plans for things like this. He had strategies, he had-

Shit… he had Solis!

The man perked his ears up at the whistle and blinked those amber eyes at him innocently. Cyrus had already stashed his knife and was hauling Solis to his feet by the time the other could even ask.

“What was that?”

Cyrus shushed him with a finger over his mouth, and then began to drag the man along. Solis didn’t ask questions and merely ran along beside him, his feet light as he followed Cyrus down an unmarked, windy path, which led them deeper into the woods and further away from his people.

Trying to keep calm and alert, Cyrus measured his breathing and kept putting one foot in front of the other. After running for a few minutes, he stopped to try and see if they were being followed. Unfortunately, right at that moment, Solis apparently decided he was getting too warm, and began unceremoniously stripping out of his shirt.

It was a hot day. Cyrus was sweating too. He could feel it dripping down his nose and drenching his clothes. Breathless and tongue-tied, the young man spent just a few too many seconds staring at Solis’ lithe form; his skin as pale as the moon and just as luminous. Was it really fair for someone to look like that?! Cyrus didn’t think so. Here he was, draped in moss and squirrels, and there was Solis, looking like a fucking jade statue-

…not a god, but am I certain he isn’t an angel?

Of course, it was right then that the two men heard the first arrow fly past them and land directly beside Cyrus’ head, splitting open the bark of a tree.

“Shit-”

Cyrus grabbed Solis and shoved him forward. Admittedly, being within shooting distance was already not great, but Cyrus really didn’t want to get caught by the soldiers. He had seen what they did to their own citizens who couldn’t pay their taxes, he really didn’t want to know what they were capable of doing to a deserter who had incited a revolution.

“What should we do?” Solis panted beside him.

Cyrus just gritted his teeth, “Shut up and run-”

Urgency gripped his lungs, and Cyrus stumbled a bit when he realized he could hear rumbling footsteps behind them, not too far away. He couldn’t look back, but he was certain that a few more arrows landed along the path as they careened through the forest. Okay, so maybe he didn’t exactly have a plan for something like this…

Fuck that! The plan was; get the Kingsguard as far away from the camp as possible and try not to get killed in the process!

So far, Cyrus was doing a terrific job!

That is, until he heard the cutting sound of an arrow whistle right by his ear, and then Solis’ sharp inhale. They were both still running with aching limbs, their hair and clothes getting snagged on leaves and branches, but when Cyrus heard the other man gasp in pain, his heart seized up and his feet followed.

During that lapse of concentration, Cyrus tripped, quickly finding himself face-first on the ground in a painful sprawl, his ankle hooked over a twisting tree root and his pride smarting something fierce.

“They’re over here! I see them-”

There was so much blood rushing to his head, Cyrus thought he was about to explode, then he felt himself being yanked to his feet and the next second, he was being stuffed inside the gaping hollow of a large tree.

“...?!”

Cyrus squeaked a little indignantly and then froze. Out of the corner of his eye there was movement. Solis had snapped a leafy branch down to hang over the hollow, but through the gaps Cyrus was able to see the broad, armored backs of the soldiers as they swept through the forest, turning over rocks and logs, clearly searching. For them.

Cyrus had no idea where Solis had disappeared to, he could only hope that the man was also hidden. Holding his breath, mind completely blank, Cyrus could barely focus on anything besides the cool interior of the tree and the sound of the Kingsguard walking back and forth just a few meters away.

After a few minutes, the soldiers began to walk off, but Cyrus still couldn’t draw in a breath and soon, he began to shake. Sweat had cooled all over his body and the dark shade inside the tree was making him shiver. Moving slightly to adjust his intensely uncomfortable stance in the small space, the man winced as he felt a twinge in his ankle. It would be more difficult to run now if they needed to, but he couldn’t stay in the tree forever, and Solis still needed to be found-

“Cyrus?”

He startled as a thin whisper floated to his ear, but just like that, Cyrus suddenly felt he could breathe again.

“Solis??”

The man’s handsome face appeared outside the hollow and he blinked.

“It’s me. You can come out now, they’re gone.”

Still shaky, feeling a bit nauseous from the adrenaline and the pain in his ankle, Cyrus climbed out of the tree, clutching onto Solis’ hand as the man helped him out.

“How did… where are they?”

Solis gave him a pensive look and carefully began leading Cyrus away. He really did put the least amount of weight possible on his bad ankle, but still, it was wobbly, and felt like putting his foot into a ring of fire. Solis noticed, of course, looking down at Cyrus’ foot and frowning.

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“Solis, they can’t be far. We need to…” Cyrus huffed, shaking his head to stave off the dizziness. “We need to keep-”

Oh gods, was he going to be sick?! From a little thing like this? Absurd!

Solis looked back at him gravely, and then all Cyrus can remember is losing his grip on reality, darkness enveloping him exactly like the hollow of a giant tree.

When he finally woke, it was to the sound of a steady stream; a trickle of water echoing through a wet cave and the faint breathing beside him of Solis, who had apparently carried Cyrus, completely passed out, into an underground spring. Cyrus inhaled deeply, the cool air smelling of moss and cold water; obviously they were in a cave system that connected to The Sanhi River. Cyrus couldn’t recall how they’d gotten there at all…

“Ughh-”

Solis helped him as he struggled to sit up, collapsing back against the jagged cave wall with a sigh and a curse. Cyrus felt less nauseous now, but still a bit dizzy. He also had no clue how much time had passed.

“Are you okay?” Solis asked, his voice nothing more than a whisper. “Your leg…”

Cyrus didn’t try to move his foot, he knew it was at least twisted, but there was nothing he could do. Surprisingly though, when he did risk a glance down at his foot, he found it had been bound tightly in strips of pale linen, and tied with a sturdy knot.

Glancing over at his companion, Cyrus’ heart thudded when he saw that Solis had not put on his shirt again, even though it was very chilly in the dark cave.

The fair-haired man sniffed awkwardly and turned his head, obviously hoping Cyrus didn’t comment on his state of undress, nor the whereabouts of his clothing. Cyrus suddenly wished he could disappear; float away down the river, anything except stay here with this strange silence between them and an injury bound in Solis’ torn clothes.

When the hell did I turn into a maiden in need of rescuing?!

Clearing his throat, Cyrus tried to focus on what was most important, and as always, that was his people.

“We’re near the river?”

Solis looks back at him and nods.

“How close to camp?”

Solis stills, then shrugs a bit guiltily.

Cyrus can only sigh. “Well, we need to get back as soon as possible,”

Putting most of his weight on his good leg, he stands, clutching the cave wall for stability and fighting off a shiver as he realizes how truly cold he is. Solis must be miserable.

“As long as the Kingsguard are no longer following us, we should be-”

“Stop.”

Cyrus freezes. Slowly, he meets Solis’ eyes. The other has also stood, and is currently looking directly into Cyrus’ eyes with a very peculiar pinch to his brow that truly tells of nothing good.

Even with Solis reaching out and grabbing him, carefully trying to ease him out of the way, nothing can stop the creature sliding down the wall from a low-hanging root. Likewise, nothing can prepare Cyrus for the heart wrenching scream that spills from his throat as he first feels a serpentine-tongue flick against his neck, and then the snake’s fangs sinking deep into his flesh.

Two pinpricks of fire quickly devolve into shooting pain all the way down his spine. Cyrus jerks away, flailing and falling into Solis’ arms as he begins to feel a sinking weight radiating from his extremities and threatening to bring him to his knees. Cyrus watches his vision go blurry, and the vague outline of Solis holding him close and easing him gently to the ground.

“... stay… awake-”

He can just barely hear through the cotton in his ears. Ugh, it feels like there’s something in his mouth, keeping his jaw from opening so he can respond. It’s so frustrating that Cyrus begins to cry. He doesn’t remember crying before in his entire life.

All he knows is shooting pain, and his muscles stiffening, and something warm and heavy around him, like a thick fur pelt or the arms of an angel. Maybe I’m going to heaven, he thinks numbly, as he falls away from the world…

Maybe I’m finally done.

Cyrus drifts in and out of consciousness, wheezing and sweating and pale, until eventually Solis has transferred enough Heavenly energy into his body to be able to clear some of the poison from his veins.

He is by no means a medical professional, but after so many years hanging around Prentis, he has definitely picked up a few things. The trick was to be delicate, purposeful… not all mortal bodies could take the strain of a god’s blessing, but Solis knew this one could. Cyrus was strong. His soul- magnificent… Solis would do whatever he could to help him live.

That is why, when the young man begins to shiver and weep silently in his arms, the god pulls him closer and finally inspects the bite wound. He immediately frowns at how swollen the back of Cyrus’ neck has become, right where it meets his shoulder. It’s raised, the skin reddish and hot. Two puncture wounds ooze blood and pus, the redness descending all the way down Cyrus’ shoulder, halfway down his arm and all the way up his neck. It looks horrifying, and horribly painful. Solis will have to make it better…

Apologies, he thinks, gazing at the little human’s pained expression. Hopefully this will make everything alright.

Solis tightens his arms around the young man’s shaking form, then pulls him closer in his lap. With a brief inhale to steady himself, the god opens his mouth and presses it down around the wound.

Cyrus makes a high, gasping noise, wincing and shifting away, but Solis holds him tightly and seals his lips around the bite. The snake’s venom will do nothing to him, that is why Solis closes his eyes as he begins to suck it out, focusing entirely on using just enough pressure so that he doesn’t cause Cyrus any undue pain, nor more bruising. After all, the last thing he would want is for his courageous benefactor to feel awkward around him after this.

When Cyrus opens his eyes, he is leaning on someone’s strong, bare shoulder. It takes him several seconds to remember where he is, and then another few to remember why he should definitely not be alive right now.

“Ow…” he grumbles, wincing as he tries to sit up.

He can’t, so Cyrus just plops back down. He was less dizzy than before, but he was so damn tired.

Feeling his pillow shift slightly, Cyrus manages to turn only enough to look at Solis out of the corner of his eye. The man is watching him, gaze soft, concern so evident on his face that Cyrus really has to take a second to remind himself how to breathe normally.

“What-” he swallows past a painfully dry throat, “What happened?”

Beside him, he hears Solis sigh.

“Snake died. You did not.”

Cyrus huffs. Yeah, he didn’t feel dead. Death wouldn’t ache as much as this.

Too exhausted to even reach up and feel for the wound on his shoulder, Cyrus closes his eyes and drifts. Eventually, he catches the faint sound of a gentle whistle; Solis snoring softly in the dimly lit cave. It brings a flushed smile to Cyrus’ face that doesn’t leave for some time.

It’s odd… the longer they remain there, the longer they become one with the earth, the water, the stone; the more Cyrus begins to feel that he never wants to get up and leave.

There could be soldiers at the camp right now, setting fire to the trees, but Cyrus cannot find any energy in him to care. His fears are world away, his nightmares- caught in snares. There is only running water, a slight aching sting in his shoulder, and Solis’ warm skin under his cheek, slightly damp but beautiful, and a perfect place for him to rest.

Cyrus wants to live here forever, not in a snake-infested cave, but in this moment. He wants it so much, he forgets he doesn’t have it. He forgets that there is anything else. That is why, when Solis eventually wakes him and informs him that the coast is clear, Cyrus immediately begins to cry.

The fair-haired man’s eyebrows draw together and he frowns, tilting his head the way he tilts it at animals in the forest when he doesn’t know the exact species.

“What is it?” He asks the young man, “It hurts?”

And, because Cyrus cannot tell him the truth; that right now, Solis is, to him, the only Heaven he has ever wanted to believe in, the only God he sees, Cyrus just bites his tongue and nods sharply.

Yes. It hurts, he thinks. It hurts knowing that we have to stop being wounded, that we have to go back to living our lives now…

Why can’t he just stay here? Die in Solis’ arms some more? With him, Cyrus could imagine a thousand deaths that would be made peaceful by the man’s mere presence. A thousand fires that he would let burn, as long as the other was warm, and by his side.

Anything would be better than this life where Cyrus can’t have him.