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Shadow was definitely going to regret sitting out there that long. The night was damp and cold, and the rain from earlier had chased away the warmth for good. He’d been sitting in the same spot, unmoving, for at least an hour now. He would be surprised if he didn’t feel it the next morning.
All that time, his eyes were glued to a tavern. It seemed relatively safe. Since he started to watch, nothing too shady seemed to have happened, no one suspicious or familiar seemed to have walked in. It wasn’t a promise, but it was something. Giving the street another look both ways, he dislodged himself from where he’d pushed himself between a balcony and a roof, and dropped near-silently on the cobblestone road below. By habit, he raised a hand to check if his mask still properly hid the lower part of his face before he straightened up and approached the tavern like he hadn’t just dropped from the shadows themselves.
If anyone recognised him, anyone at all, it would be over. He wasn’t exactly liked around these parts. If anyone knew of his reputation, his dark armour and ragged cloak would give him away within seconds. Or maybe the people here wouldn’t mind a mercenary sitting at their table and he’d be welcomed just like any other. He sure hoped so. If not, he’d have to eat stale bread that travelled with him from the last town he visited and go to bed with an unsatisfied stomach. He greatly preferred eating a warm meal here as an option.
And it had quite the welcoming air. The light leaking through the doors and windows was warm and inviting. Someone inside played music, a bard who seemed to have taken a break from singing for the moment — Shadow had listened to him earlier and, even from a distance, enjoyed his talent.
With a final deep breath to steel himself, he pushed the door open. It closed behind him with the slightest creak, but the music and laughter drowned it out almost fully. Much to his relief, most people paid him and the door that fell shut no mind. There were a couple that looked up, for just a second, but that was it. He wasn’t interesting enough here, he supposed. Good. That was good. Still, his hand twitched, ready to reach for the knife strapped to his chestpiece, or his belt, or his thigh, back or other arm.
All the possible exits were mapped out in his mind as he approached the bar. He would not be cornered here.
He tried to sound friendly as he pushed a few coins over the bar to the person behind it and asked for some food. They didn’t seem fazed at the sight of him, luckily, and pointed him towards one of the corners of the tavern. It was a more shaded table, where the light didn’t reach fully — he quietly wondered if they’d pointed him to that one on purpose.
With the knowledge that the food would be brought to him once it was done, he left for the table. The tavern was bustling with life and he had to swerve to get past some tables. It took effort not to double check his hidden pouch of gold to make sure no one snatched it away.
It wasn’t until he pulled the quiver of arrows off his back to place on the table that the bard stopped playing. He sent an inconspicuous look over his shoulder, finding the colourful outfit of the man easily enough. They had paused to take a cup from someone in the eager crowd, thanking them before taking a large sip.
Shadow froze then, muscles locking up instantly. His breath stuck in his throat, and his heart skipped several beats. He knew that voice. He hadn’t heard it in- in ages, but he knew perfectly well who it belonged to.
Both unwillingly and eagerly, his eyes shot to the face of the not-quite-stranger. A part of him hoped to be wrong. But the evidence was there. That smile that could melt any snow, the perfectly white hair that fell over his eyes, down to the very mannerisms of the way he walked back to his spot and picked up his lute.
It wasn’t possible. He’d say he watched him die, but Shadow was the exact person who drove the sword through his stomach, who murdered him. He’d taken what was supposed to be his final life and left him to be buried by others.
He didn’t even realise he’d walked over until he stood in the middle of the crowd and Sneve’s eyes fell on him. “Hello there, stranger!” he called out, that typical half-grin of his on his face as they locked eyes. Hands strumming a random tune on his instrument, he showed no recognition, didn’t differ him from anyone else.
Shadow’s hand was moving before he even registered it. Whatever code he’d built up over the years, shattered in an instant. Don’t show your face, except he wanted Sneve to know. Don’t let anyone close, except he’d missed him so much. Do not let anyone, under any circumstance, know your true identity, except he wasn’t a stranger to him. All his rules, broken with just one slow movement to pull the mask from his nose so it hung below his chin.
And it wiped the grin off Sneve immediately. It froze, the joy that was mostly for his performance chased away. His brows furrowed, mouth falling open ever so slightly, a certain horror flashing in front of his eyes.
For that split second, Shadow was afraid it was hate. He feared that Sneve blamed all that misery on him, resented him for dealing the final blow that day. His throat closed up, the single word of his name unwilling to pass from his tongue. What would he even do if he hated him?
In the blink of an eye, Sneve rushed forward to pull him close. Arms wrapped around him, tightly, squeezing the air from him, holding him awkwardly with the bulky pauldrons and leather armour underneath his cape, but holding him nonetheless. Shadow could only wheeze in surprise, hesitating only a moment before returning the embrace. His fingers dug into his shirt almost unwillingly. “Sneve,” he whispered, eyes clenched shut as he finally held the other.
“You’re here.” When the other pulled back, he stared at him with a sad kind of disbelief. His hands reached up to hold his face — and if that made shivers run down his spine, the warmth of them just a bit too much for his icy skin, then that was for him alone to know. “You’re really here.”
He swallowed thickly, taking the hands away. His mind refused to supply him with the right words, and he had to fight to not look away. What was he supposed to say?
Then the only words he could come up with just slipped out. “I thought you were dead.” Guilt made the words heavy, pained. He had killed him. He didn’t deserve to be upset in the slightest.
At that, Sneve finally tore his eyes away. He nodded, running a tongue over his bottom lip. “Well, that just means my plan worked.” He tried to laugh but his own guilt coloured that confession too. He took a deep breath, glancing back unsurely. “We should talk.”
It would have to wait. The evening was far from over, and there were still a lot of people around. Shadow backed away knowingly, finding himself back in the corner where a plate with steaming was already waiting for him. He couldn’t even sit down before the music started back up and, this time with a growing smile, he could enjoy the other’s singing.
As he dug into his food with appropriate haste, he let his eyes wander over to Sneve occasionally. Not for the first time he wondered what his life would’ve looked like if things had gone differently. The voice that filled the tavern sounded just that bit lighter, ever so slightly like a weight had been lifted from the man’s shoulders, and Shadow picked at one of the potatoes on his plate as he stared for a few minutes too long.
What if he’d stayed? What if he’d been slain by Sean in that dungeon of his? What if he hadn’t killed Ryan and had instead gone for Legundo? Would he have married Sneve instead?
At that last thought, he froze mid-chew. Those were some dangerous ideas. He tore his eyes away from the bard and instead focussed on the food. It was a time long past, and they’d both seemed to have found better lives for themselves, away from the memories of kingdoms and war. At least one of them had been able to let go, and he envied that ability.
He hadn’t taken count of the time it took, or how many songs he’d played, before Sneve finally sat down in front of him. Two pints were in his hands and he eagerly pushed one to the other side of the table. A tiredness made his cheeks rosy, but he shone with something giddy, eyes scanning his whole face to see what he’d missed in the time they hadn’t seen each other.
“I didn’t know you could sing,” Shadow said, being the first to break the silence between them. He couldn’t help but let a smile split his lips — it was easy, as it had always been.
Sneve shrugged, hiding behind his pint as he took a contemplative sip. “It turns out I’m pretty good. But it took some practice.” There was something sad in the depths of his eyes, and when he continued it was quieter. “We both know what it’s like to have to blend in. Like this, no one pays attention to who I might’ve been before. I’m just a guy who strums a lute and sings a pretty song, what else could I be?”
Subconsciously, his fingers brushed against the hem of his shirt. It drew Shadow’s eyes down, past the pint as he put it down, and his heart stopped for a solid few seconds. There, hanging from his neck and adorning his collarbone, hung a ring on a silver chain, only partly hidden by the fabric of his tunic. It was gold, beautiful, and would be perfectly unique if there wasn’t a single other identical one.
He had to swallow any feelings the sight of it threatened to bring up in him and forced himself to look back up at Sneve. “It’s a clever disguise, in a … really stupid way. You’d think you wouldn’t want to draw attention to yourself.” He laughed and Sneve rolled his eyes.
“I can’t hide in the shadows like you can, Shadow, it would never work. So what have you been up to? That isn’t an outfit for stealing apples from the royal orchard, is it?”
He nearly choked on his drink. A ‘you remember that?’ sat on the tip of his tongue but he swallowed it down. It had been a long, long time since they were kids — times were much simpler, they met only a few times a year, but it was enough to forge many strong memories, including apples from royal gardens and hiding from guards. He grinned. “I wish.”
With a sigh, he messed with the strap keeping his armour tied to his arm. Anything to keep his eyes off the ring. “I uh, I take jobs wherever I can. I’m good at hunting. No apples, I’m afraid.”
The other nodded, considering his words. “I take it you travel a lot?”
“All the time.” He huffed in slight annoyance. “Common folk don’t really like me, so I can’t stay in one place for too long. It’s a pure coincidence I ended up here today.” But he couldn’t be more glad he did. Not that he’d tell Sneve, but meeting him there that night was the best thing that had happened to him in literal years.
“It’s good to see you again, I’m glad you ended up here,” Sneve said, as if it didn’t make Shadow feel like he could start floating right there.
He had to take a sip from his drink if he even wanted to think about speaking up after that. He needed to recover, make sure he didn’t say anything stupid, and fight the happy feeling in his stomach at the mere presence of him. It did mean a lull in the conversation, only filled by low talking of others and the crackling of the fireplace that warmed the tavern.
And his eyes were drawn to the ring like a moth to flames. He couldn’t understand why it was there, haunting him still, even after leaving the kingdoms behind. His hand was reaching out before he realised what he was doing, fingers brushing against skin as he took the ring carefully between his fingers.
“You kept it?”
He really hadn’t meant for the words to come out so softly. It was supposed to be a casual question, something as easy as ‘how are you doing?’ but instead turned into something so vulnerable and broken he wanted to curl up and hide from Sneve’s eyes. He couldn’t look up at him, this time staring at the ring intently.
“I did,” he answered, and he almost sounded breathless. He barely moved under Shadow’s look, chest rising and falling steadily. His mouth opened but closed again as he failed to find any other words.
“Do you miss him?” Why was he still talking? He needed to shut up and let the ring go, back off and change the subject before it was too late.
“I don’t know.” Sneve laughed, but whether it was filled with humour or sadness, he couldn’t tell. He shook his head and finally slid a hand forward, only to ignore the drink and rest it on Shadow’s arm instead. The heat was more striking than any fire even through his clothes. “I mean, I miss everyone, all my friends, and- and you.”
Shadow frowned, thumb freezing where it had caressed the shimmering gold of the ring, and looked up at him. “And … me? Are we not friends?”
Sneve swallowed, staring back just as intensely. “I don’t know, Shadow.” He grabbed his hand and let the ring drop back to his chest. “I mean, we are.”
His heart threatened to clog up his throat. A longing filled him, so strong he almost pulled his hand back. A longing for something he couldn’t quite name, as long he was near Sneve. He just wanted to stay, wanted Sneve to come with him, anything so they could stick together, they’d figure something out.
“Oh,” was the only thing that left him instead.
But their hands were still together, and neither seemed to want to let go. “Are you planning on sticking around here?” Sneve asked, a hope in his voice.
He would do anything to stay. He’d missed him more than anything. And yet when he glanced around the tavern, just to scan the crowd a little, he could already see the few odd looks sent his way. It wouldn’t take long before the distrust boiled over into something more violent. People simply didn’t want his kind around.
“I can try.” He would, he’d try. Already, it hurt to think about how long he’d actually be able to stay.
A servant interrupted them by grabbing his empty plate, and they both rushed to let go of each other. They still had plenty to drink, so they picked up their pints in unison to hide their faces. And again, there were the memories, of them but twice as small, childish innocence painting their mischief. Oh, how he would do things differently if he could do everything over again.
Sneve was the first to put his drink down, breaking their silence. When he spoke up, it was more than a plea, it was begging, pure desperation. “Don’t go.”
His heart broke and healed at the same time. Old wounds and regrets were mended a little, but being reminded of them stung like a dagger between the ribs. He didn’t think he could say no even if he tried.
“I won’t go anywhere without you.”
It was a heavy thing to swear, a promise hard to keep. But he’d lost him before, many times, he couldn’t bear to do it again, not if he could help it. So wherever he went, Shadow would follow. He was no longer a king stuck with his duties. This time he could choose his path, and it would follow Sneve’s.
The other took him in, then finally nodded. He opened and closed his mouth as he figured out what to say, and sighed softly when he settled for a fond smile. “Have you ever thought about returning?” he asked, voice quiet.
He swallowed, sitting back in his chair. His hand still laid atop the table, there to be grabbed if Sneve wanted to. “In my nightmares I sometimes go back.” They always ended horribly, in blood and in death. “Nothing good awaits me there.”
“You think they’d kill you?”
He scoffed. “I’m the only one who technically still has the right to claim the crown. Legundo won’t take the risk of welcoming me with open arms. I can’t go back.”
“Good,” Sneve said, and laughed. He grabbed his lute to rub a hand over the instrument’s perfect surface. “I don’t ever want to go back either. This pays just enough to keep me going, and I’m more than satisfied.”
He grinned. Wasn’t that the truth? At first he’d missed the riches and the power, but now he wouldn’t want to go back to that prison of a lifestyle. No thank you.
“Then what’s the plan? Stay here? Travel? You tell me.” He’d let Sneve choose, he’d follow regardless. It didn’t matter where he went, he’d figure it out. They would figure it out.
His fingers strummed the snares, shining white teeth showing when he smiled. “An adventure with ShadowMech and Sneve? Who knows where the roads will take us?”
“Home?” Shadow finished his drink, raising an eyebrow at him.
“Wherever home is.”
“I’m already home.” He swallowed, the earnesty making the words a little heavier than intended.
Sneve brushed his fingers against his own as the silence fell. For just a moment, he was deep in thought, they were almost visible as they raced across his face. He sucked in a deep breath, and looked at him. “So, do you have anywhere to stay?” His voice held something happy and endearing that melted the fear he’d gone too far right from his heart.
“Not quite.” Dipping his head, he pursed his lips. He’d keep the fact that he’d planned on occupying a tree or perhaps a spot below a bridge to himself. He didn’t trust the people in this town just yet. With Sneve, it would be a little bit easier to relax.
“Well, I don’t know how far you travelled to get all the way to this lovely town, but you must be exhausted.”
And that, Shadow couldn’t deny. He huffed, trying to wave the accusation off. But he’d spoken it into existence now, and the sudden wave of tiredness he couldn’t ignore either. “Now that you mention it …”
The inn Sneve stayed at turned out to be just large enough for them both. He didn’t mind sleeping on the floor — it’s what he was used to, after all — but it took quite a bit of convincing to get the other to actually take the bed, and he still didn’t look too pleased with it afterwards. Eventually, the curtains were drawn and the candles blown out. They wouldn’t manage to sleep for a while, the occasional chatter keeping them both up.
Shadow felt a piece of him settle then. Something that had been missing, that had been broken, battered and left out in the rain, slipped back into place. Things hadn’t been right without Sneve. He only realised that when he let his eyes slip closed and knew the comforting presence of his once best friend returned to his side would still be there when he’d wake up the next day.
He really thought his heart had been broken the most when Sneve was dead. Grieving and unable to heal, it cried out with guilt each day. But now? He wanted to wrap him in his arms, swear his undying loyalty to him, protect him until the very end of his life, not having to fear for a second whether the feeling was mutual or not.
But his heart could heal now, by Sneve’s side, slowly but surely.