Someone With Your Eyes, Might Come in Time

by Jayduph

 

Tags: Medieval/Middle Ages, Magic Undertones, Pining, Guilt, Finding Love Again

Content warnings:

 

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His eyes were closed, feeling the chilled bite of the winter breeze sweep under his limbs, keeping him sky-bound. It felt as if time had slowed or even stopped altogether, becoming non-existent. In that span of time, he could only feel two things: the first was how light he felt, and the second was the fingertips gripping his hand as tight as the other could squeeze.

 

He felt weightless, like a balloon filled with air only tethered to the ground by the hand holding his. As though all of his burdens were earthly possessions, things that didn’t belong to him falling so carefree in the sky. It felt like giving them up; accepting his fate and the inevitable collision with the ground had helped him feel lighter and more free than he had in some time.

 

The sun was blinding that afternoon. No corner of the realm was shrouded in darkness. There were no shadows; there was nothing but light. However, the brightness brought with it an inhumane cold. The air seemed heavier in those resplendent rays. Too cold to snow, the precipitation clung to the heavens, frozen as they dangled above.

 

In the splendour of the sun, basking the realm in her cold fury, two figures fell towards the earth.

 

The longer he fell, upheld in the air by the unbearable undercurrents, his senses shifted, feeling instead like the world was falling away from him. Everything he had once held dear seemingly drifted away, as though the brutal cold were not the only misery he would feel today.

 

Don’t fall away from me.

 

There was no way to tell, in the rush of the wind, whether anyone spoke those words or they were only mumbled in his head. Regardless, he unconsciously squeezed the hand in his a little harder.

 

The plains stretched below the falling figures, broken branches and blood stained the once pure white snow.

 

At almost the same time, two people yelled, “URIAN!”

 

His eyes shot open, centring on the perilous situation he found himself in.

 

A section to the left of the battlefield was raised slightly, and a woman stood at the precipice. Her hair was long and such a dark black colour that it was purple, made even more evident against the snow and bright sun. Her eyes watched the two plummeting, her heart beating rapidly in her chest. A faint light purple danced around her as she shifted to focus on her hands, mumbling words under her breath.

 

The second was the man at the end of his fingertips. It didn’t matter how hard he tried, Urian could never grasp more of him than the hand he was already holding. He watched the other and realized there were traces of tears on his face. The pressure from the fall had forced his eyes to water, yet it seemed the cold had already anticipated this, freezing each teardrop as they streaked down his face.

 

Then his eyes focused past the face in front of him to the blood-soaked ground that was coming closer. His panic spiked, but he could grab nothing more than those fingertips.

 

The frozen air around him seemed to struggle like distorted pixels, the area surrounding him appeared to shake. The words were faint on the cool breeze; however, the tiny ice crystals soon slashed through them, obscuring what the mumbling was about, only the tone of the voice could be heard.

 

It sounded light and airy, like a soap bubble when it pops.

 

And then Urian abruptly stopped, hanging by an unknown force in the air. His body lurched from such a sudden and unexpected stop. His vision clouded with black and red dots; he felt dizzy as the momentum behind him crashed into his un-moving body. For a second, he sighed, relief flooded him. That was until those fingertips kept going, slipping from his grasp as the other continued his fall toward the earth. His chest heaved, and his breathing rapid; his vision had yet to clear, still blurred with the black dots.

 

As they cleared, the ground beneath him taking shape, his terror was evident in his eyes. He reached his hand out, desperate, however, none of that mattered. It was too late. He only had time to watch as the other brutally crashed into the ground. His blood blended into the already red surface. From this distance, it looked as if the other were merely sleeping, exhaustion having overcome him from the tiresome battle, falling to his knees first and then slouching over.

 

Countless nights and early mornings had been spent gazing at that face, relaxed in slumber. Yet now, when the life had been relinquished from it, he didn’t look any different. He had seen the same face just that morning; the cold had long since penetrated their tent, hidden under the blanket for warmth, tracing his thumb over the line of his bottom lip.

 

Even though he was staring at the other laying on the ground, a dark red colouring around his body, the fact that he was dead had yet to sink in. It wasn’t until the last black dot dissipated from the periphery of his vision that the agony finally found its way in.

 

His entire life, gradually drowning in the red. He let out a grief-stricken howl that resounded on the plains. Urian was lost in anguish, unaware that the lady was walking towards him, gradually lowering him with every step.

 

“I—” Lady Avelina stopped. “I wanted to—” She didn’t know what to say now that she was in front of Urian. “He was too far away… I didn’t have the strength left. I gave all that I could.”

 

Urian’s legs were not steady once they reached the ground. His knees buckled under the weight of his sorrow. Avelina reached out her hands, gripping Urian’s upper arm, to try to steady him.

 

“I am indebted to him…” Urian said softly, emotion clouding his voice. “What life do I have without him.”

 

Avelina scoffed, “If you think I would not give everything I had to save you, you are mad!”

 

It was silent for a moment; only the groans of the wounded could be heard, and the whistling of the cold wind.

 

“You are a knight,” Avelina continued, “You can find a life anywhere. I am sorry, my friend. I did try my hardest to save you both.”

 

“En,” Urian grunted. His eyes were on the body in front of him, trying to will those hazel eyes open. Hoping a smile would turn up those lips, as they often did before he would wake up completely.

 

Urian was unaware of how much time had passed; his senses drifted in and out. He heard the crunching of snow underfoot before it was drowned out by a ringing in his ears. At some point, Avelina left, and at another point, he fell over. When he watched Prince Char slip from the top of the mountain, the cold air burning his cheek as he rushed forward, jumping over the edge after him, adrenaline flooded his system. Anxiety fluttered along his nerves while his entire body was consumed by panic as the gap between their fingers never changed.

 

Now that it was over, his body ached from the sudden stop, and his exhaustion was overwhelming in the absence of his distress. He let his body go, not trying to hold himself upright any longer. He lay beside his love, the circumference of blood growing, making its way to him.

 

Nestled amongst the carnage left over after the battle, Urian blended in, lost in the wake of such devastation.

 

When he did eventually open his eyes, the sun was shining directly above him. He quickly closed his eyes, keeping them shut for a long time. His entire body felt cold and heavy. His armour was uncomfortable, pressing into his limbs and sides painfully. His fingers and toes were stiff. It took a lot of effort to get them moving in the winter cold.

 

Urian squinted his eyes and using all the strength left in his body, heaved himself upright. At some point, it had snowed. A light layer of white covered everything; however, it wasn’t enough to cover the carnage, just enough to blur the edges of it. The fresh snow fell to its fate, being absorbed into the already spilled blood, gradually fading red.

 

The bodies were still evident, the snow acting like a blanket as though to keep them warm during the cold winter night.

 

Urian was scared to look. He didn’t want to see the lifeless body lying beside him. It took him a few moments to calm his emotions before he spared a single glance, wanting to make sure what happened wasn’t some terrible dream, watching as his life slipped beyond his reach.

 

Then he started walking as fast as his feet would take him. He stumbled a few steps, not raising his feet high enough to completely clear the fallen bodies in his way. It took him half a day to clear the battlefield and another two hours before he came across a horse.

 

And then, he wandered. Through the changes of the seasons, he watched the snow melt into fresh spring blossoms, through the vibrant green leaves of summer, only to watch as those lively and vivid colours fell in fall. He always kept moving; lost in the large expanse of the realm, he put his back towards his home and walked as far away from it as he could.

 

The subtle chill of winter was creeping back in, most noticeable at night. Sitting outside an Inn, Urian watched a small group of people approach. He noticed the horse near the back first; it was golden yellow, and its mane pure white. However, Urian’s eyes didn’t stay on the animal long; instead, they slowly moved up to the elegant man sitting in the saddle.

 

He was wearing the deepest purple tunic Urian had ever seen, the collar of which was high, nestled just under his chin. The embroidery was done with silver thread, creating an elegant contrast between the rich colour of the fabric. At the centre of his back was a fallen body, a tree curiously growing out from their side. The branches twisted and coiled around themselves on either side of his over-shirt, sliding up and over his shoulders to spill over onto the front with leaves falling down either side.

 

His hair was short and blonde, like flax swaying in the wind, when he trotted by on his horse. As he was riding, Urian could tell he was slightly off balance. His eyes followed the palomino horse as it stopped outside the inn while another in his party dismounted and went inside.

 

Urian got up from his seat and approached the handsome man on the horse.

 

“Pardon me,” Urian said as he reached out and touched the other man’s heel. “You’re uneven.”

 

Urian kept his eyes forward, watching his worn and weathered hands slip the man's foot from the iron stirrup, undo the leather holding it steady and lowering it. Once he had the right length, he tightened the leather. Very gently, he grabbed the heel of the man’s foot, placing it back in the same position before he went to the opposite side of the horse and fixed the other stirrup.

 

The man atop the horse watched. “Are your hands okay?” He asked, noticing the hint of black at his knuckles and the flaking skin.

 

“It’s just some frostbite. I’m fine,” Urian answered while his hands worked to adjust the saddle.

 

After a few more moments, he had finished. His hands resting on the iron of the stirrup, Urian looked up at the other man and his words caught in his throat.

 

Those eyes! He would never be able to forget those eyes: they were a dark amber colour, much like the mellow-brown light that bathed the forest, with flakes of green in them, more prominent around the outside of his iris.

 

He had spent many years staring into similar eyes. His heart lurched at the sight of them after such a prolonged absence.

 

The man atop the horse held Urian’s gaze. The silence that hung between them was not awkward, instead, it held something else entirely.

 

“Pardon the intrusion,” Urian eventually managed; his voice sounded like a lion’s roar, deep and horse.

 

“Thank you,” The man atop the horse replied. However, he let the end of his sentence go, drifting off in the cold autumn wind. He watched the other man walk away, curious about him.

 

Urian kept walking as far as his feet would carry him, fighting every urge to turn around and glance at the other. However, those eyes had a lasting impression, taking hold of something within Urian and not letting go. When night fell, with the stars twinkling above his head, he couldn't bring himself to move on.

 

The ground was cold, and he could feel the small peddles underneath his body poking into him. The bedroll he used was old and tattered after so many months of travel. He watched the stars above his head, glimmering like the flakes of green in that man’s eyes.

 

Those eyes seemed to have a greater hold on him than even he himself was willing to admit. When the dawn broke over the horizon, and he gathered his things, he couldn’t bring himself to leave. Not just yet.

 

.

 

“You sought me out because of my accent?” Urian questioned.

 

“No,” The other answered pointedly. “It was for the frostbite on your knuckles and the soothing palm you placed on my horse's neck to calm them. You are very interesting.”

 

“I am no one of consequence,” Then Urian muttered, “not anymore.”

 

The other man caught those words, his intrigue growing. What does that mean, not anymore…

 

“Your accent puts you East. Why have you come this far North?”

 

“My home… is no longer. All I can do is wander.”

 

“Your home is no longer…” He pondered those words for a moment, trying to remember if he had caught word of any conflicts happening. “You are from the East, I can’t recall any battles—” His eyes grew wide, the realization dawning on him. “Hroslaw was lost recently. They say it was a bloody battle that devastated the surrounding area. They say no one was safe, that even Prince Char and his personal Knight Urian perished at the height of the battle. With swift fingers and an agile mind, Lady Avelina was just able to keep hold of her life.”

 

He watched the weathered man across the table from him, trying to remember the folktales and operas around the city all these years. How did they describe Knight Urian? Sharp and full eyebrows cut across his face, set below the smoothest brown-coloured eyes. His nose high, noble even. However, his hair was the same length, having grown out, a slight wave to the ends that stopped just above his shoulders.

 

He didn’t know why he thought this man should be the presumed dead Knight Urian. Either way, he didn’t want him to leave town just yet.

 

“Stay for a few days?” He asked.

 

Urian watched the green in his eyes shimmer in the sunlight streaming through the opened windows, mesmerized. Everything in his body was telling him to leave, but he couldn’t, those eyes— “I can stay,” He answered.

 

“Good,” The other’s smile was infectious. “My name is Eudin. I’ll be seeing you,” He said as he got up from the table and left.

 

The streets were lively, and Eudin seemed to blend in easily as Urian watched him leave. It had been almost a year since he had been around so much life and vitality. The noise alone was overwhelming. Instead, Urian chose to stay on the outskirts, where the only clamour was from the horses and wagons entering the city.

 

It took a few days for Eudin to find Urian. He had searched throughout, checking every corner and in every building. It wasn’t until the fourth day that the whispers finally made their way to Eudin about someone sleeping beyond the city walls. He couldn't help smiling as he started jogging toward the city gate, leaving behind the bustle to search the forest beyond.

 

Meanwhile, Urian was sitting, leaning against a tree, a long strand of grass between his fingers, absentmindedly tapping the plume against the ground. He was struggling with himself. He knew he should leave. It was time for him to continue moving; however, those eyes haunted him.

 

“SOLDIER!”

 

Urian lifted his head instinctively. He could feel his determination start to slip, along with the façade he had so meticulously constructed for himself over the last year.

 

He smiled at the man approaching him, another crack showing.

 

“You really made me have to find you. Why are you all the way out here?” Eudin asked, his slight annoyance could just be heard in the undertones of his deep voice.

 

“I’m used to being alone. The City is too crowded, I prefer it out here,” Urian answered. There was no reason he could think of to hide himself from this man.

 

“Oh—” Eudin’s brows drew together into a furrow as he stared at the other. It hadn’t occurred to him that he wouldn’t want to be surrounded by the noise within the city walls. Then his face lit up, his brows smoothed out as his mouth turned up into a smile. “Well, my estate does have a barn if you would be so kind as to grace me with your presence. When you adjusted my saddle, I noticed you were very good with my horse. I should be able to trust you with the care of the animals, should you choose to stay?"

 

Urian studied the other’s face. He should turn it down. He should grab his horse and ride away from this city. He should be anywhere other than here in front of this man. He needed to leave. “I have a horse of my own that would need stabling?”

 

“Even better, bring it with you! I will take the chores as compensation for your stay?”

 

Leave. Leave. Leave. Leave— “Okay. Lead the way.”

 

Ugh.

 

The stable was located on Eudin’s estate, roughly 50 feet from his house. The building was long, and when they entered, it was large and imposing. The building was mostly empty except for the roughly 90 horses that were lined on either side of the aisle, standing in their respective stalls, their heads lifting from their mangers to glance at those who had just entered.

 

“There’s a hay loft this way,” Eudin said, leading Urian to the stairs on the right.

 

The stables had a vaulted ceiling, giving plenty of room even in the loft. Urian was silent for most of the trip, even more so when he got to Eudin’s estate. It was meticulous; there was no part out of place.

 

Eudin watched Urian as his eyes moved over every part of the loft, taking everything in. “I will have water brought so you can wash?"

 

This was the first time since they set out that Urian met Eudin’s eyes, “Mn.”

 

The large earthenware bowl that was brought was half full of warm water. Urian could see the illustration of a lion on the bottom, leaves branching out from behind the creature to crawl up the curvature of the bowl.

 

His eyes stayed on the steam rising from the surface of the water for a moment longer before he dragged his eyes toward Eudin. The other was watching him intently; every movement Urian made under that gaze seemed tinted with an awkward feeling. Trying his hardest to ignore those heated eyes, Urian, very slowly and methodically, took his shirt off.

 

His skin was tanned, made an almost bronze colour by the sun he had wandered underneath for a year. Although some of his muscle definition was no longer visible, he had a broad and solid chest. Eudin struggled to swallow.

 

Urian dipped his fingers in the water, watching them slowly sink further into the warm liquid. The heat clung to his skin in a way he didn’t know how to describe; he felt like an untethered balloon that had ultimately popped, all of its various pieces finally making their way to the ground.

 

He rubbed the soap between his hands until suds started to form, then he began to rub his face and comb his fingers through his beard. Eventually, when he splashed the warm water on his face, a few droplets went past or bounced off the smooth skin spread tight across his cheekbones, landing on his shoulders and upper arms.

 

Eudin’s eyes followed the stray droplets, tracing over the shallow dips and hard muscles of Urian’s arms and shoulders. He was lost in the bronze glow of the other’s skin, that was until his eyes caught the slightly raised ridge of something on the other side of his shoulder.

 

He no longer fought the urge and lifted his hand, touching the other’s skin. Urian was startled; his eyes closed as he splashed more water on his face. It was a brand pressed into the flesh of his shoulder. Eudin’s fingers traced over the raised ridges of the healed wound. A bright sun was burned into the top left of the brand, under which a dolphin jumped in the air.

 

It took him a few minutes to recognize the design. It was the Lucinis’ coat of arms.

 

Urian froze. He could feel the dulled touch of Eudin’s fingers across his once-burned flesh.

 

“You were one of Prince Char’s personal Knights?” Eudin said softly. He was unable to look away from the brand, his fingers tracing over every inch of the long-since-healed wound.

 

Urian trembled, his breathing uneven. It was the first time since he had left the battlefield a year ago that he was confronted with his own past, and he clearly felt the sharp pain in his chest at the remembrance.

 

“En,” he grunted. Urian was scared that if he spoke, his voice would betray the maelstrom that was raging deep in his heart.

 

“It is said that you all died…” Eudin spoke to no one in particular while his fingers struggled to be drawn from the other’s body.

 

“Who are you?” Eudin asked with more authority.

 

“Does it matter anymore? …We are all dead.”

 

“What is your name?” Eudin asked again. His voice was soft, almost whispered; however, there was a hint of an imposing tone.

 

“My name…” Urian struggled to swallow. The misery in his heart became too much to bear. “What use is it now? The walls have crumbled, the dead have rotted… I am not the person you want me to be.”

 

“YOUR NAME!” Eudin shouted, his impatience coming from nowhere.

 

A horse whined from the sudden outburst. Another shifted, their hooves dragging the straw they were standing on.

 

Urian turned around, Eudin’s fingers forced from his skin, dangling in the air before him. The water still on his face from before hid the few tears that had already fallen, but the red underlining his eyes was noticeable.

 

“Are you- Urian?” Eudin asked, his voice quiet once more, his eyes searching the other’s face.

 

The desperation in Urian’s eyes when he heard his name gave himself away. “I cannot be who you need me to be.”

 

Apart from the horses below them, the barn was silent. Eudin stared into Urian’s eyes. He felt his heart settle once he had gotten confirmation. For what was to come, he needed Urian's strength.

 

“I need you…” Eudin started to mutter under his breath, trailing off at the end. He didn’t know how to put it into words, but he was happy to have Urian with him.

 

Urian’s stay that was only supposed to last a few days turned into a few more, and then a week, maybe two. He kept his spot in the loft to sleep; however, as the days progressed he started wandering throughout Eudin’s estate. The gardens that surrounded his manor house were grand and opulent; such a lavish yard would take many years before Urian would ever get tired of getting lost in it.

 

Eudin would watch from the windows of his grand estate at the man below weaving through the bushes and flowers. He would always watch, unable to focus until he caught sight of the other. The tension in his shoulders leaving him once he saw that Urian was still there.

 

After a week, Eudin started inviting Urian in. They would sit in his study and talk. It was in this way that Urian learned while he had been wandering for the past year, a cold and cruel wind had blown from the East. It hadn’t been anything substantial since Hroslaw fell, but there had been a weird frost happening too often to call it a coincidence.

 

The causal talking very quickly turned into military planning. A map of the North lay out before them, its mountains and valleys etched outward on top of a table. Small caricatures of monuments and landmarks moved across the board like chess pieces, trying to plan a defence for something they knew nothing about.

 

It started gradually, fingers lingering on the piece after it was set down, skin grazing along skin as the other reached for the same piece. Hands placed too close to the other as they stood beside each other, discussing how fast the frost was moving. Their clothes catching on the other as they passed by a little too close, the heat radiating from the other encircling both for that moment.

 

Even in the fresh snow that started to fall, their desire was enough to keep the cold from their chambers. However, during the darkest part of dawn, when Urian snuck back to his loft to sleep, that his doubts seeped in with the cold.

 

It had started off as whispers, nothing more substantial than a rumour carried on a frozen breeze. Still, just as the cold bit Urian's face as he walked toward the manor that evening, those words hurt. There was no greeting once the doors had swung open, only the fragile heart of a man who wanted desperately to be wrong.

 

His fingers threaded themselves through the hair at the back of his head, pulling tight the strands he had in his fist before taking a step forward. The emotion evident in his voice, “Were you using me?!”

 

Eudin was pressed against the desk, his back awkwardly leaning over the top, Urian’s hand on his waist the only thing grounding him. His head tipped back from the force Urian was using, and he bit his lip. There was a flutter of pain; however, the slight discomfort did not stay long; instead, it slowly dissipated as pleasure crept along his scalp.

 

Eudin sighed, trying his hardest to calm that flutter. “I would be lying if I said I hadn’t thought about it—”

 

Urian felt the stab of those words, pulling the hair in his hand harder. Eudin groaned, and his lower body was getting restless. “It was when we first met. I thought there had to be a reason you had been sent to me…” He struggled against the weight pressing into his thighs, “But now, I can’t even stand it when you are out of my sight, let alone sending you to fight far away from me.”

 

Urian could feel the anger leave him like dissipating clouds. His eyes moved to watch Eudin’s lips as the other continued, “I haven’t even woken up beside you in the morning. How could I possibly send you away to die.”

 

Urian licked his lips; biting his bottom lip he said softly, “Your bed is too soft…”

 

Eudin let out a soft chuckle, “That is why?! Because you have slept on the ground for too long.”

 

Urian never let go of the hair between his fingers; instead, he tightened his grip keeping Eudin’s head from moving. His eyes watched his slightly agape mouth and his heavy breathing as Urian’s grip tightened around the hair between his fingers.

 

A fire crackled in the hearth, its warmth filling the study. Eudin’s back was starting to ache from the angle; his legs starting to feel Urian’s body heat seeping in through his clothes. There was no restraint when Urian finally succumbed to his desire; the kiss was fierce, the weight of all his passion and desire crashing into him.   

 

The passion that was blazing only a few days prior was very quickly extinguished. A chilled wind blew from the East, freezing more than just the trees and grass swaying under its pressure. They had planned for this, and yet, even though they knew what was coming, they were still not prepared for when it arrived.

 

The air was heavy, the cold seemingly weighing it down. The clouds were cumbersome, wanting nothing more than a bit of warmth so they could shed the snow they were forced to cling onto. The field stretched below them was trampled, snow, dirt and blood all mixed together. The battle had started well, the balance tipped in their favour; however, the longer it progressed, the more exhausted they felt and the heavier their armour seemed. What had seemed like a blessing was very quickly becoming a burden.

 

On ground risen above the battlefield, Urian and Eudin watched as their armies were slaughtered by the frost. Urian turned around; with his back to Eudin, he felt it, an unbearable, inhumane cold graze his arm. A burst of wind so cold that Eudin swore he was frozen, and with such force, his feet stumbled back toward the edge.

 

Urian flinched from the cold before he spun around, eyes wide in surprise. His panic spiked as he watched, for the second time, the person he loved stumbled at the boundary between life and death. With no thought in his mind but the expanding pool of blood around his dead lover, Urian leapt forward, desperate to grab hold of more than just fingertips this time.

 

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Author's Account:

Jayduph