Julrien Valebright

Sleeping Sickness

“He’s forgotten where he came from; he’s forgotten this. But he does not need to remember to belong.” 

Julrien lay awake again in the midnight darkness of their room, surrounded by silence save for Lore’s breathing. It comforted him, as always, to know that his lover seemed, at least for this moment, peaceful enough- no small miracle given everything that had happened, and with a lifetime of difficulty in dreams, besides. It had long since been a favourite habit of the young Knight’s to simply watch and listen whenever his other half was deep in sleep. It could be pitch dark and he would still know the sound of it anywhere. 

Yet that idyllic quiet alongside those soft sleeping-sounds had changed for him. Night after night, he could not help but strain for the constant screaming of steel and roar of demonic warfare- the eruption of agonized cries that yet rang in his ears. And there was an uneasy stillness that came with it, in the absence of barren earth trembling beneath unending horrors, drinking blood and growing nothing but decay. It left him breathless in its unfamiliarity, even beneath his favourite quilt in the bed he and Lore had shared countless nights before. 

It was to be expected, of course. This was a soldier’s life in the wake of war. Gain victory for your loved ones, and lose a great deal of little pleasures in the process. Restless sleep when sleep came at all, and black coffee tasting too rich on your tongue. Your favourite cigarettes doing little to soothe singed nerves. Instead you train hard for extremes in combat, and when it’s over you go home and begin to retrain in simply being alive. 

Soft breathing eventually gave way to a faint, barely-there whimper, and the Knight fought a renewed surge of fear, holding tight to the slender limbs that entangled his own. He would focus instead on how they felt, even now. Argus had changed them all, forever, and Lore more than most. But this- this at least, remained the same. 

He was still offering whispered comfort, fingers running soothingly along Lore’s nape, by the time his eyelids grew heavy, and he was himself comforted just enough to let them close. 

“So blinded by fear and the sickness of war. But there is danger there- I mean to show him. And I will.”