Vy awoke weightless.

She was levitating. Again. This was the third time in a week.

“Ariock?” Vy cleared her throat. She must have slipped out of his embrace while they both slept, and now she could not physically reach him, defying gravity as she was.

Ariock lay asleep and dreaming below her. The huge bed, sculpted from meteorite, might be too massive for him to float it on a subconscious whim. Either that, or Ariock automatically anchored whatever furniture he happened to be using.

Curtains floated. Wall decor floated, unmoored from their hooks or shelves.

The sheet twisted and rippled above Vy like a magic carpet possessed by a restless spirit. Orb lights, holographic projectors, data marbles of varying sizes, and other knick knacks bobbed in the air.

“Ariock?” Vy adjusted her billowing nightclothes. Her multiple thin braids coiled like coppery snakes, lifted by unseen tendrils. “Ariock!”

He spasmed awake. Everything crashed to the floor.

Vy flopped onto Ariock’s bare chest. The sheet landed on top of her.

She shoved it aside and scooted up so she could meet Ariock face to face. She held his scruffy cheeks and stared until he blinked up at her.

He looked amazingly relieved, as if he had expected to see devastation instead of Vy. He enfolded her gently in his arms.

“That must have been one hell of a nightmare,” Vy remarked.

“Sorry.” Ariock looked ashamed.

“Are you all right?” Vy studied him up close. They could only get face to face when he was lying down.

“I’m fine.” Ariock stroked her waist, seeming to enjoy her contours.

Vy glanced meaningfully at the mess of shattered baubles and lanterns, overturned pottery, and books on the floor.

“It was just a dream.” Ariock spoke lightly. “No big deal. Eh. I guess the stress of the war is getting to me.”

He had nightmares every night. Vy knew, because she slept in his arms.

Each day brought a fresh wave of awful news. Rosy Ranks kept appearing unexpectedly in crowded plazas with hand grenades or dirty bombs. Their explosions killed people. Most of the Rosies lacked enough power to teleport away, but that didn’t seem to matter to them. They martyred themselves. They were suicide bombers.

It wasn’t a problem in Freedomland, or in any of the megalopolises. Major buildings and city blocks had enough mirrored surfaces to prevent teleporters from making sudden appearances. Plus, Thomas’s team of scientists had reverse-engineered the pink inhibitor gas, and they’d set up traps in any location where a Torth might appear.

But it still happened once or twice per week. That was more than enough to unnerve everyone.

And Vy knew that Ariock had unhealed wounds inside his memory, raw and painful. Last week, he had created a crude likeness of Jinishta and the other warriors he had accidentally killed, to commemorate them. He had sculpted the frieze outside the war fortress complex where the warriors lived. But it wasn’t enough atonement.

Nothing would ever be enough.

It never mattered how many people forgave him. Vy loved him every day, hugging him, touching him, listening to him. But no one, not even Thomas, could move Ariock. He was as stubborn as a mountain.

That was often a good quality. But now? Not so much.

“I know.” Vy stroked Ariock’s cheek, enjoying the softness of his scruff. “Hey. I wonder if we could find someone professional to help with your nightmares?”

She understood Ariock’s bitter smile. Freedomland had many wondrous things, but there was a notable lack of psychologists.

“I tried talking with Thomas,” Ariock said glumly.

“And…?” Vy figured that if anyone could bring Ariock out of his depression, it would be her foster brother.

“He advised me,” Ariock said with some sarcasm, “to seek an Alashani spiritualist. A dream interpreter.”

“Oh.” Vy wondered if Thomas had given that suggestion out of desperation. “Well, maybe that’s a good idea.” She studied Ariock’s face, looking for clues. “Have you?”

“I think Thomas is just fed up with me.” Ariock sounded despondent. “No. We don’t need rumors flying around the city that I’m mentally unstable.”

Vy refrained from saying anything. Ariock’s effect on the climate was obvious. People must be wondering about his mental state, whether he sought help or not.

“They’re just nightmares.” Ariock sounded defensive. “Everyone has nightmares. Right? It’s normal.”

Vy felt a foreboding.

Whenever Ariock dismissed his nightmares, they turned out to be prophetic. He didn’t seem aware of that particular behavioral pattern.

“Um.” Vy caressed Ariock, making her voice casual. “Would you mind sharing what you’re dreaming about?” She had assumed he was reliving the catastrophe on Nuss, but what if it wasn’t that at all? What if he was glimpsing a future problem?

“It’s just stress,” Ariock assured her. “Plenty of people have much worse things to worry about, right now.”

That was true.

And yet it was also true that those people needed Ariock. He was supposed to be the Bringer of Hope. Didn’t he care about how his mood effected morale throughout the free cities? Sure, depression was not something that could be easily treated, and maybe winter was his normal mood from now on. But didn’t he owe it to his people to keep trying?

“Leave it to me,” Vy suggested. “I’ll find the right person for you to talk to. And I’ll make sure it’s discreet.”

She expected Ariock to brush that off. To her surprise, he actually looked hopeful. The light streaming through the windows became a bit sunnier.

“Really?” he said. “I would appreciate it.”

Vy realized that Ariock could not entrust a random clerk with his private secrets. Maybe she was actually helpful to him, in a small way?

“Of course. No problem.” Vy kissed him.

Moments later, they both went their separate ways, doing their morning routines. Ariock merely propped himself up on the disorganized pillows. He reached for the decanter of water by his bedside, realized that it had fallen and spilled, and used his powers to refill it from the rockfall of pure mineral water.

He took a sip. “I’ll be checking our realms.” With that, he went statue-still, his eyes unfocused and vacant.

His mind was probably a thousand parsecs away.

Vy sighed and slid off the bed. Unlike Ariock, she could not teleport urine out of her bladder.

After screwing on her prosthetic, she used the bathroom like a normal human being. Then she began to put away the mess of fallen objects.

Ariock would require rest breaks between each five minute jaunt across the galaxy. Sometimes he stretched or drank water, but he wouldn’t bother with conversation unless there was major news. He would just rest for a few seconds and then jaunt off again.

He included Earth in his security sweeps. Vy was grateful for that. Whenever Ariock found the Torth encroaching on their homeworld with an armada, he would vanish for a few minutes. That meant he was hanging out in an air bubble in the void of space. He would use his powers to shove the armada towards the temporal gateway, which was enough of a threat to panic the Torth pilots and navigators.

Thusly, Ariock protected Earth, as well as Umdalkdul and its colonized moons, and Nuss. And if he received any alerts on his supercom wristwatch? He would mass-teleport troops from point A to point B.

Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

He did that all day.

The only thing Vy could be sure of was that he would eventually return for breakfast. She bustled about, straightening the bedroom.

She did worry about local space. The nearest temporal stream was far away, and isolated points of life might be easy for Ariock to miss in the vast emptiness between here and there. He had confessed that he might miss a few sneaky shuttles. The Torth would not be able to conceal an armada speeding towards Reject-20—Freedomland—but they still might pull off a terrorist attack.

Vy removed freshly squeezed fruit juice from the juicer, preparing breakfast. Maybe she was absorbing too much pessimism from Ariock? Thomas, unlike Ariock and Garrett, wanted to welcome sneaky solo vessels.

“I made a mistake in failing to protect the Upward Governess,” Thomas had said. “We cannot afford to make the same mistake again. That’s imperative. If either one of the Twins show up here—and that is a real possibility—we have to make them feel welcome. It’s important. Okay?”

Ariock had hesitantly agreed. He hated the fact that the Twins had invented insanity gas, but he trusted Thomas’s advice, now more than ever. And the spaceport commissioner, a mer nerctan named Gojal, had made the same promise. Any solo ship would be received with a wary welcome instead of with blaster cannons. Unless it shot first, of course.

Vy stepped into the washroom, stripped off her clothes, and walked under the waterfall shower. She soaped up.

There were duties she could take on if she wanted to match Ariock’s busy schedule. But she had learned that it was better, and kinder, to allow elected volunteers to step into those roles. Former slaves were ready and eager to make big, important decisions; the kinds of choices which had been denied slaves. Vy didn’t need to get in their way.

The only thing people wanted from her, it seemed, was news about the Bringer of Hope.

When would Ariock fight in a battle? When would he make a public appearance? What did he do all day? Why was he in such a relentlessly dreary mood?

Vy wondered how people would react if they learned that Ariock wept in his sleep.

That kind of news would probably incite a mass panic. She wasn’t going to say anything.

But she was sick of feeling like a helpless bystander.

Vy toweled off and stepped into a fresh outfit. That left her with nothing else to do except order breakfast for both of them.

When it arrived, Vy bustled around, arranging the table. She set up a vase full of black lilies as a centerpiece. It seemed to match Ariock’s snowy mood. Not that he would notice, or if he did, he wouldn’t comment.

Vy climbed onto the tall chair, propped her feet up, and scrolled through tasks on her wristwatch. She waited.

“Come back to me,” Vy said to Ariock’s empty body.

When had he decided to deal with everything alone?

Why did he have to be so unreachable?

Pilots practiced around the Freedomland Spaceport every day, preparing for unexpected invasions because they could not rely on their Bringer of Hope. The tropical jungles were blanketed with snow. The sky was perpetually overcast. Yet Ariock pretended that he was just “taking a break.”

He said he felt fine.

He wouldn’t even tell Vy his dreams.

He had promised to always make an effort to listen to Vy. He had agreed that doing so was important. Instead, he was distancing himself, and Vy had to wonder if it was because of … well … because of Garrett’s damned story.

Was Ariock so afraid that he would kill Vy by accident?

Maybe he should worry about what Vy would do to him, for shutting her out.

Ariock joined her eventually. “Thanks for ordering breakfast.” He lifted domes off the food plates, revealing French toast and fresh fruits.

Vy lazily moved her feet off the extra chair. She gave Ariock enough time to report any news.

He said nothing. He just began eating.

“So.” Vy stirred her bowl of oatmeal. “Anything new in the universe?”

Ariock shrugged. He seemed to think breakfast was more important than confiding in her.

Vy supposed she should be grateful that he enjoyed eating. Otherwise he would skip meals, or just teleport nutrients directly into his stomach.

“I have something to confess,” Vy said. “It’s embarrassing.”

That got his attention.

Vy waited for him to finish chewing, to swallow. Then she went on. “I overheard you and Garrett the other day, when he visited. He told you about how his wife died.”

Ariock looked like he wanted to apologize on behalf of his whole family for being too powerful.

“I didn’t mean to eavesdrop,” Vy said. “It was accidental. But I’m not going to apologize. Because if I hadn’t overheard, then I would feel like absolute crap, wondering why you’re being extra extra gentle around me.”

Ariock began to say something.

Vy cut him off before he could utter a useless apology. “I can handle words. Your fears and dreams will never shatter me. I can handle anything you tell me. I swear. Just tell me. Stop being strong and silent, and be real and human with me.”

Ariock looked stunned.

After a second, he looked around the room with mock wariness. “Is there telepathy gas in here?”

Vy laughed. “I don’t need to read your mind to make educated guesses. I know you pretty well. Remember?”

His pretense melted into shame.

“You’re not as terrible as you think you are,” Vy said. “You do a lot of good.”

“I am death.” He sounded serious.

Vy glared across the table at him. “You’re not ‘death.’”

Part of the problem, she knew, was that he had killed his parents. Or he believed he had. That weighed on his soul. The disaster with Jinishta and the other warriors only exacerbated the self-hatred that was already there.

“You’re a hero,” Vy said. “I’m a nurse. We have certain occupational hazards. People die in our care. If a nurse or a doctor fell apart every time they lost a patient? Then we wouldn’t have hospitals. And a lot more people would die.”

That gave him something to think about, at least.

“I’ve thought about giving up on you,” Vy confessed.

Ariock studied her, pained.

“I thought that maybe we’re too different,” Vy went on. “You are dangerous. We’re in agreement on that. So I went to Thomas, to get his advice, and you know what he said?”

Ariock looked curious, despite his moroseness.

“He thought I was being stupid.” That was not exactly what Thomas had said, but Vy was exaggerating to make her point. “He said we’re both overly fixated on our differences instead of our similarities. He said that if he had been that fixated on his differences with Cherise, and vice versa, they never would have had such a strong bond. He wouldn’t have had any friends. He never would have considered himself human. He wouldn’t be on our side. He wouldn’t be a hero.”

She could see that she was reaching Ariock, at least a little bit. And she could guess what his self-hatred was whispering now. “Thomas isn’t a killer.”

As if.

“Thomas is just as dangerous as you are.” Vy pointed a spoonful of oatmeal towards Ariock. “And you have just as much self-control as he does. Maybe not as much wisdom, but who cares? You’re human.” Her voice roughened. She was trying so hard to convince him.

Ariock looked chagrined. He slumped, as if conceding a minor defeat. “I guess … well. I guess so.”

“There’s no guessing.” Vy felt keyed up. If Ariock was unwilling to admit that he was human in every way that mattered, then he might be beyond her reach. She could not reach a man who thought he was a demigod. Even if he had legitimate reasons to believe himself special or divine in some way, he needed to acknowledge the vulnerabilities and flaws that came with being human. He needed to remain human within his heart. Only then could they be more alike than different.

“I’m so afraid of hurting you.” Ariock looked defeated. “I couldn’t live with myself, if I hurt you.”

Didn’t he realize that being cold and distant, and emotionally withdrawn, hurt her just as much as any physical pain?

“We can face that fear together,” Vy said. “Just don’t give up?”

He looked miserable in his uncertainty.

“I haven’t given up.” Vy set aside her spoon. “And I never will, unless you ask me to. Is that what you’re asking me to do?”

She waited for him to admit that he needed her, that he wanted her, and that he was glad she was so willing to take the huge risk of loving him. Oh, and also, he should be grateful that someone loved him enough to stick with him, despite his rather severe depression.

Ariock shoved aside his plates and put his elbows on the table, resting his head between his massive fists. He looked too anguished to eat.

Fear gripped Vy’s heart. Had she forced him to a breaking point?

“I’ve been having a recurring nightmare,” Ariock confessed. “It’s the same dream every night.”

Vy blinked. She had not expected this.

“In my dream,” Ariock said, “I lose you. Every time.”

An icy chill crept up Vy’s spine. She tried to ignore it.

“I know it’s just a representation of my fears,” Ariock was saying. “It’s not going to come true. But it’s awful. In the nightmare, the Death Architect has some kind of bomb, and I’m not strong enough to stop it from detonating. I’m not fast enough, not smart enough. And I lose you forever.”

When he was a child, Ariock had dreamed that his father would burn to death.

Then it had actually happened.

His mother, Delia, had shared that secret with Vy in their slave bunk-room. Ariock himself had forgotten the trauma. Ariock was clueless about his own tendency to sense disaster. Yet it was obvious to anyone who knew him well.

“Hmm.” Vy stirred syrup into her oatmeal. “How long have you been dreaming about my death?” she asked with a casual lack of concern.

“A couple of weeks,” Ariock said. “That’s one reason I won’t go to those telepathy lessons. I don’t need people peering into my head. There’s nothing good in there. They’d just get worried.”

“Yeah. That makes sense.” Vy considered how to ask him for details of his recurring dream. If it was prophetic, maybe being forewarned would help her avoid a deadly disaster.

“It’s not just the dream that’s bothering me,” Ariock said. “It’s not even my guilt over what happened on Nuss, although that’s definitely part of it.” He shook his head, as if he had so many things to confess, he didn’t know where to begin. “It’s the zombies. It’s our whole approach to this war. It’s the brutality. Doesn’t it seem like we’re turning into tyrants?”

Vy had never expected to be asked that question.

“We have ninety million planets left to conquer,” Ariock said. “And I can barely protect the three that we have. I just don’t see any end. There’s no good ending. It’s a never-ending war. And I’m sick of killing.”

Vy heard the sincerity in his voice.

She slid off her tall chair and went around to put her arms around his shoulders. She had to stand on tiptoe to do it. She was just so glad that Ariock wasn’t like his great-grandfather, who reveled in brutality.

“I don’t have answers,” she said. “But I trust that answers will come. Thomas will figure something out. Or something good will happen and everything will change.”

Ariock seemed uncertain.

“Maybe we’ll gain new allies.” Vy was careful not to mention the Twins. Enemy super-geniuses were a touchy topic. They had invented the chemical weapons which had gotten so many innocent people killed. She wasn’t sure she would be able to trust the Twins, even if they did show up, even if they swore allegiance to the Bringer of Hope.

“For now?” Vy went back to her chair. “Let’s take it one day at a time.” She picked up her spoon and made a pointed gesture towards Ariock’s unfinished plates. “I know that hours of clairvoyant work takes a lot of energy. You should eat.”

Ariock looked hesitant.

“And thank you for trusting me.” Vy smiled at him. “You haven’t chased me away yet. If that’s your goal, then you have to try a lot harder.”

Ariock’s smile was so huge, the sky outside brightened as a sunbeam pierced the clouds. “I love you,” he said.

Vy grinned and sprinkled seasoning into her oatmeal. “That’s the best thing you’ve said all week.”