Chapter 18

The white fog was thick around the soldier, illuminated by the light of a moon he couldn’t even see. There were sounds coming from the fog, the snapping of twigs on the ground and dragging footsteps. Cassian kept twisting and turning around, eyes darting over the thick mist that surrounded him, trying to make out who was approaching. Eventually he could see dark silhouettes of figures in the fog, seemingly unsteady on their feet as they shambled towards him from all sides.

Cassian’s breath caught in his throat as the approaching figures finally came close enough for him to identify them. They were his men, the young soldiers, many of them his friends, whom he had led into battle and had been cut down mercilessly by the enemy. And though they stood upright, they did not appear how he had known them in life. Their bodies bore the wounds that they had died from, great cuts across their torsos covering their armour in blood, some missing limbs or even their heads.

The corpses dragged their feet as they continued to close in on Cassian, lifeless eyes locked on him, some with arms outstretched, others even smiling with blood running out of their mouths from between their teeth. Cassian wanted to flinch away, to back up, but there was nowhere for him to go as he was surrounded by them, reaching out towards him from all directions. Tears sprung into his eyes as he cowered before them, waiting for the end.

Cassian awoke with a small start, opening his eyes but unable to see anything but the faces of the dead soldiers from his nightmare. His mouth was dry and he felt a heavy lump in his throat. His skin felt clammy; slick with sweat but also cold. He fumbled for the bedcover, trying to pull it up closer around himself.

Cassian was slightly surprised when he felt something move next to him in the bed, and suddenly pieces of memories from the previous evening started coming back to him. A sense of safety and calm washed over him, and he shuffled over in the bed to press his body up against Balthasar’s. 

The chirurgeon stirred from his sleep as Cassian wrapped his arm around Balthasar’s thin frame, pressing his face against the back of the taller man’s neck. Cassian felt Balthasar’s body stiffen up against his, his muscles suddenly tense. After a few moments Balthasar grumbled out something, too lowly for Cassian to hear.

“What was that, love?” Cassian purred, kissing Balthasar’s neck softly.

“I hate you,” Balthasar mumbled, chest heaving with a sigh.

“I know you do,” Cassian replied, lips smiling against his lover's skin.

Casian was pushed away slightly as Balthasar rolled over to face him. Cassian gave him a lopsided smile, while Balthasar scowled at him. The dark haired man lifted his upper body off the bed slightly, so he could loom over Cassian, who had rolled onto his back again.

“I really hate you,” Balthasar stated, frowning down at the soldier.

Cassian smiled up at him lovingly, and reached up to cup Balthasar’s gaunt face in his rough hands, stroking his cheek with his thumb. “You’re beautiful,” he said softly, gazing into Balthasar’s grey eyes.

Suddenly Balthasar surged down towards Cassian’s face, and started kissing him roughly. Cassian kept a hold of Balthasar’s face as he returned the kiss, warmth spreading through his body and his muscles relaxing, leaving the memory of the nightmare he had woken from behind.

Cassian wrapped his arms around Balthasar’s body to hold him close, and then the taller man ended up laying back down next to him. They were trying to ignore the sunlight filtering into the room from the window as they held onto each other, but eventually Balthasar gave a small huff and pulled away, sitting up in the bed.

Balthasar swung his legs out over the side of the bed, yawning and rubbing his eyes. Cassian crawled towards him, pressing his face against Balthasar’s back. 

“Can’t you stay a little longer?” Cassian almost whined.

“I have work to do Cass, and I’m sure you do too,” Balthasar pointed out pragmatically. He got to his feet, and moved to get dressed.

Cassian sighed, collapsing back against the mattress again for a moment and closing his eyes. “I’d rather stay here with you then deal with those brats in training this morning,” he bemoaned. Then he pushed himself to get out of bed as well, and started collecting up his clothing that had ended up thrown all over the floor in a hurry the night before. 

“You don’t usually complain about your job this much,” Balthasar remarked as he buttoned up his vest over his shirt, while Cassian was pulling on his pants.

“Guess I’ve just never had a kid I want to strangle as much as Emil,” Cassian joked with a smirk. “I know I’ll probably regret putting him back on guard duty, but as much as I’d like to I can keep him washing dishes in the kitchen forever. It’s not fair on the poor cooks.”

“I remember you mentioned yesterday that he was acting out because of jealousy. I was going to ask you what you meant by that,” Balthasar said as he adjusted his eyeglasses on his nose.

Cassian was trying to pull his armour on now over his clothing, but looked up to smile at Balthasar’s enquiry. “Well it’s kind of funny. I can’t know for sure, but I have a strong suspicion that the kid has a massive crush on Beowulf.”

****

It was obvious to Cassian that Emil had managed to completely ruin his reputation with the other soldiers after that night they tried to take down Beowulf. Even his two closest ‘friends’, Landyn and Miles, seemed to want nothing to do with him anymore. It was likely that the only reason any of them had sided with Emil in the first place was to win favour with him for when he inevitably went back to his life of being a rich and influential noble. Meanwhile, the brat clearly wasn’t taking his loss of power very well, acting sulky during every training session, though being put on kitchen duty for weeks might have contributed to his bad mood.

This morning Cassian was having the soldiers spar in pairs, and it seemed to have gotten to the point where no one wanted to be Emil’s partner, all of them shunning him. He didn’t even bother to try and ask anyone himself, just stood with his arms crossed and eyes downcast while everyone else around him paired up. Well, almost everyone else.

There was one other soldier who no one really wanted to spar with. It was no longer so much because the others didn’t like him, as Beowulf seemed to have taken on Cassian’s advice of attempting to endear himself to the other soldiers to combat their animosity towards him, which appeared to be slowly working. The reason they didn’t want to spar with him was more because they didn’t want to be continually knocked on their asses all session by the huge man.

Cassian watched with interest as the gentle giant approached Emil, helmet off and smiling. As Beowulf’s shadow fell over Emil, the smaller soldier glanced up at the larger, scowling. Beowulf appeared unfazed by Emil’s surly attitude, and proceeded to cheerily ask him to be his sparring partner.

To probably both Cassian and Beowulf’s surprise, Emil let out a sigh and then nodded his head, though still frowning. Beowulf’s smile grew wider at that, and he grabbed Emil’s hand and started pulling the smaller soldier away from the rest of the group. Emil looked startled, but didn’t resist, and as he was pulled away Cassian thought he could see the skin of the lad’s cheeks flush slightly.

Cassian walked around to observe the men in their sparring practice, but decided to keep a close eye on Beowulf and Emil, to see if they actually managed to be cooperative. Beowulf had picked up a long sword, which he could wield one handed, if clumsily. He seemed to have encouraged Emil to attack him, and was busy deflecting and parrying the smaller soldier’s blows. The big guy probably thought it would be a little unfair if he attacked Emil, as he could easily overpower him with his brute strength.

It wasn’t clear whether Emil appreciated Beowulf holding back on him, or if he found it patronising and insulting. He wasn’t showing any emotion or complaining at all, just had his mouth set in a firm line while he practised his techniques against what was essentially a moving training dummy. Perhaps the kid had finally been humbled by his humiliation, punishment and ostracization. 

Cassian didn’t enjoy making Emil suffer, but sometimes it was necessary to put his kind in their place before they could start to be moulded into proper soldiers. However, Cassian was happy about the possibility of Emil and Beowulf getting along, as kind and obedient Beowulf could be a good influence on the noble brat, perhaps teaching him to be a better person.

The officer turned his attention away from the pair for a moment to see how his other men were going with their training. He gave some of them a few encouraging words, others he verbally or physically assisted to correct their technique. The bunch of formerly useless sods were slowly improving, and would perhaps be ready to be moved to the main host in a few more months, or perhaps years at the worst for some of them.

When Cassian turned his attention back to Emil and Beowulf, he was slightly surprised to see Emil sitting on the ground with a bewildered expression and blood dripping from his nose. Beowulf looked rather worried, and was soon crouching down in front of the smaller soldier. Beowulf reached out towards Emil’s face, the noble almost flinching away as Beowulf cupped his chin in his large armoured hand.

Emil scowled as Beowulf lifted his chin, peering down at his face with his eyebrows drawn together in concern. A blush started tinting Emil’s freckled cheeks as he frowned up at the large soldier. Emil said something Cassian couldn’t hear, which caused Beowulf to look startled, and quickly let go of Emil’s chin. Beowulf stood, but bent over, offering his large hand to Emil to help him up.

The smaller soldier grabbed the offered hand and was easily lifted back to his feet. Emil then opened his mouth and proceeded to chew Beowulf out for accidentally knocking him down. Beowulf looked hurt as Emil growled at him, despite the fact he towered over him. Emil seemed to falter a little when he saw Beowulf’s apologetic look, then shut his mouth and glanced away, reaching up to try and wipe away the trail of blood running down his face.

It seemed Emil probably needed a few more lessons on working well with others, even if he was never actually going to take part in a proper battle. Cassian decided he could give the men a short break to teach them a little lesson that could benefit them all. Cassian called Emil and Beowulf over to him, and then ordered the other men to gather around them.

“You need to be able to have trust in your comrades, to know they have your back, sometimes literally,” Cassian said, as he also instructed Beowulf and Emil to stand back to back, facing the soldiers surrounding them. “I know you might not like each other, but that doesn’t matter, on the battlefield you are on the same side and you need to leave your petty hang ups behind. If you end up surrounded like this, you have to fight to the death protecting each other.”

Emil rolled his eyes and pouted, and Cassian had to stop himself from chuckling at the noble’s childish nature. But as Cassian glanced around at the other soldiers, who had formed a loose circle around the three of them with their weapons drawn as Cassian had ordered them, the officer's smile fell away. Cassian felt a sudden tightness in his chest, and he could hear his heartbeat pounding in his head.

Cassian tried to take a deep breath, but it felt like his lungs were frozen. His vision was becoming unfocused, and he attempted to rapidly blink away the blurriness. The dark shapes of the soldiers surrounding him suddenly felt oppressive, and the officer reached up with one hand to clutch his head.

“Cass? What’s wrong?” someone asked, but Cassian couldn’t tell who. He looked around himself to try and figure it out, and saw the figures around him closing in on him, weapons and armour glinting in the sunlight, which suddenly filled him with fear. He stumbled backwards a bit, then spun around, only to find more figures approaching from behind him. Cassian’s lungs had finally unfrozen, and now he was quickly taking short sharp breaths, which made his head feel dizzy but he couldn’t seem to slow his breathing. 

Suddenly Cassian felt large hands on him, and his legs went weak and gave out underneath him, causing him to slump to the ground. He could vaguely hear several voices calling his name now, but he kept his eyes on the dirt, not wanting to look up at the people surrounding him as he was afraid of what he might see. Cassian raised both hands to bury his face in as he hyperventilated, feeling like the world was closing in around him.

The soldiers around him were speaking loudly to each other, but Cassian couldn’t make out what they were saying. Panic kept racing through him, he felt like he should jump to his feet and run, but he couldn’t move. He looked down at his chest, expecting to see the bright crimson of blood, but he couldn’t see anything through the tears filling his eyes now. He could feel large hands on his shoulders again, rubbing gently. 

A loud voice suddenly rang out, and Cassian could hear what it said. “Move away from him, you fools, give the man some space!” This was soon followed by the clattering of armour, and the hands on Cassian’s shoulders pulled away.

Soon there was a hand on Cassian’s chin, raising his head. Blinking away the tears, the officer saw a blurry dark haired figure crouching in front of him. Cassian raised his hands to dash away the tears so he could see Balthasar more clearly. The chirurgeon’s stern face was looking at him in concern. Cassian let out a huge sigh of relief, which interrupted his hyperventilation and helped to steady his breathing.

The tight feeling in his chest abated as the fear dissipated. He managed to focus his eyes somewhat, keeping them mostly on Balthasar’s face, though taking a quick glance around to confirm he was no longer surrounded, the soldiers all having moved away and were watching from a distance. Cassian lowered his hands to rest them in his lap, though he still felt rather light-headed.

“Are you alright?” Balthasar asked gently, letting go of Cassian’s chin. Cassian sniffed and nodded, even though he wasn’t entirely sure if he was. But with Balthasar here he felt safe, that he didn’t need to worry about anything. Still, he placed a hand against his chest, just to reassure himself that he hadn’t been sliced into again. His hand came to rest against his cuirass; of course he couldn’t have been injured.

“What’s wrong with him Balthasar? Is he sick?” Cassian heard Beowulf’s concerned voice from a short distance behind him.

Balthasar made a sound of annoyance while he handed Cassian a handkerchief to dry his eyes properly with. “No, he had a panic attack,” the chirurgeon said simply.

“Gods, this is embarrassing,” Cassian muttered quietly as he wiped his eyes on the small cloth, feeling ashamed for causing such a scene and showing weakness in front of his men.

“This is not your fault Cass, you have no control over it,” Balthasar snapped, frowning at the officer. This startled Cassian a little and he flinched away slightly, clutching the wet handkerchief.

Balthasar sighed and mumbled an apology before getting to his feet. Then he reached down, offering Cassian a hand to help him up. Cassian grabbed the hand and allowed Balthasar to pull him to his feet, wobbling slightly on his still weak legs. Balthasar moved his hands to Cassian’s shoulders to steady him. Cassian gave the chirurgeon a lopsided smile.

“You should come back to the infirmary with me, sit quietly for a while,” Balthasar suggested gently, putting an arm around Cassian’s shoulders and guiding him towards the entrance to the training grounds.

“If you insist,” Cassian said, waving to his men as he left. “How did you know to come save me?” he asked Balthasar as they made their way into the castle.

“Apparently your men had enough brains to send someone to come fetch me,” Balthasar explained, helping keep the officer steady as they headed for the infirmary.

“I don’t understand why that happened… it’s never happened to me in public before,” Cassian murmured.

Balthasar raised a brow at him. “But it happens in private?”

Cassian felt suddenly uncomfortable, but hesitantly nodded his head. “Usually at night, sometimes if I can’t sleep, and sometimes if I have a nightmare,” he explained quietly as they stepped into the infirmary.

“Do you still have nightmares often?” Balthasar questioned further. He had been aware of Cassian’s nightmares during his recovery. He guided the officer over to one of the beds, sitting him down on the mattress and then taking a seat by his side.

Cassian frowned, then nodded again in response. “I had one last night even,” he admitted.

“Yesterday you talked about me being stressed, but I think you might be as well,” Balthsar pointed out.

Cassian sighed deeply. “Look… if people find out what Thedrick is, and how much you helped him, it’s not just going to be his head on the chopping block, but yours and Beowulf’s too. Hell, I could get in trouble too just for knowing about it and not saying anything!”

“I see, so that’s what you are worried about,” Balthasar said as he put an arm around Cassian’s shoulder again and pulled him in close to his chest, resting his chin on Cassian’s head. “I promise it’s going to be alright Cass, no one else is going to find out. Even if they did, I could just explain to them about how he isn’t dangerous, I seem to be pretty good at that. Meanwhile, you need to try and take your own advice and stop worrying so much.”

“I’ll try Balthasar. And I really hope you are right,” Cassian yielded, pressing his face against Balthasar’s chest and closing his eyes.