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When given the option, Erhardt far prefers to allow the frigid night air to seep in his bones than to sit by the fire. It does not offer him safety or warmth, nor does he find beauty in sitting around it as tales of old are breathed into the dark. To him, it is death and destruction, hot ash covering the ground like a blanket of snow. It is the sound of crackling flames harmonizing with wails of pain, of fear, as flames lick up the sides of houses and consume them whole. It is embers that claim human bodies like locusts. It is leaving a fourteen year old boy to wonder why he was the only one to escape as Grynd burned off the map, no more than a memory with a bitter end.
Raucous laughter tugs Erhardt’s mind to the present as he sits at the camp’s edge. He prefers to keep his distance from the fire, no matter its size. Even the smallest ones can spread, quick to claim whatever lies in their path. He’s not a knight of Hornburg by any honest means, so perhaps it is better that he denies each invitation to drink with the others. If there is nothing he gains, there is nothing to lose, and he shall think little of the blood to wet his blade.
There’s a hand at his back, and it nearly causes Erhardt to leap out of his skin.
“Erhardt.” It’s Olberic. Erhardt wonders if it’s the cruelty of the gods for him to seek him out after such thoughts. “I noticed you are not with the other men. Is all well?”
“I’m alright.” He tries not to focus on the warmth Olberic’s hand brings him. He cannot allow it, no matter how terribly Erhardt wishes to lose himself in what else his touch could offer. “I do not have any interesting stories to share, Olberic. That is all.”
“We would still appreciate your company. You are our brother-in-arms all the same.” Olberic takes a seat next to him and offers out some rations. “Have you eaten? You seem unwell.”
Erhardt shakes his head. “I am not hungry, I admit. I did not think myself fine company tonight, so you would be better with the other knights.”
“Surely you know I would not take my leave so easily. Not while I hold concern for you, my friend.” Olberic offers a worried gaze. “Forgive me if I am speaking out of turn, but I notice you keep a far distance from every campfire we have lit. I hold no right to pry, and yet… could I ease any burdens for you, know that I would be happy to.”
“I trust that you know what shall befall Olberic if you do not keep our course.” Werner’s voice was calm. “To get close to him is a fool’s errand, Erhardt, and you know how I regard fools.”
“Aye.” Erhardt nodded in reply. “You know I am simply playing my role. Our friendship shall snap as easily as a rusted blade, when the time comes.” This lie came no easier than the others.
“I hope your words hold truth.” Werner’s words were sharp as his blade. “I hold no hesitation letting you bear witness to your failures. Do not forget I am the reason you still draw breath.
“I will not.”
Erhardt glances to the hand that’s on his shoulder; his throat tightens. “It is nothing.”
He swears ashes dance upon his tongue, ready to seize his throat, fill up his lungs. Olberic joins the others amongst the inferno, never to return.
“You are trembling,” Olberic comments, “are you sure you do not wish to sit by the fire?”
“Perhaps I am just tired.” Slowly, he lifts Olberic’s hand from his shoulder as he begins to rise. “I am certain a good night’s rest is what I need, so I shall retire to my tent for the night. Come morning, I shall be in better spirits.”
He departs before Olberic can say another word.
That night, Erhardt dreams of Werner dragging Olberic into the flames.
When Erhardt is in Wellspring, he finds himself at war with the frigid nights that sweep throughout the Sunlands. He adjusts to the dry air in his lungs, despite the initial discomfort it brings. He asks other men in the captain’s guard how they deal with such cold, and he is met with a myriad of answers. Mead warms their bellies, they dress themselves in heavy wear, or perhaps are fortunate enough to share body heat with one they regard close. However, most of them offer a shrug of their shoulders, and say they keep themselves warm with a small fire blazing within a nearby hearth.
He goes as long as possible keeping the logs free of ash, buried under as many blankets as he can gather. Erhardt’s body runs with chills that keep him awake near sunrise. He knows this is unwise, but he wagers worse sleep would come if the only sounds to grace him were the soft crackling of flames.
He wakes up one morning with chills that wrack his entire body, and he damns himself for being a fool.
It doesn’t take long for Captain Bale to find him. Erhardt wagers another member of the guard saw him in this sorry state, and acted out of concern. “I assure you that I will be well, captain. I am just in need of a day’s rest.”
He’s met with a questioning gaze. “May I ask how you fell ill? If you were not feeling well beforehand, you should have let me know. I would have lessened your duties.”
Erhardt wonders if his mind was any less muddled, he could concoct a half-decent lie. “I woke up feeling this way. If you worry it will spread, I shall keep my distance from the other men.”
“That is far from my worries, Erhardt.” Bale removes his glove as presses the back of his hand to Erhardt’s forehead. “By the gods—have you been taking care of yourself? You happen to have quite the fever.”
He pauses, unsure of how to answer. Erhardt is not used to the concern of others.
“The nights here can be cruel to those not used to the Sunlands.” He pauses. “Have you been keeping warm?”
“You seem rather cold, Erhardt.” Olberic draped a coat over his shoulders. “If you still will not sit by the fire, I at least ask of you to keep warm.”
Erhardt’s fingers gripped the fabric as he pulled it tighter around himself. He hardly felt worthy; Olberic would leave him for dead if he knew anything of his ties with Werner. “You need not go out of your way for me.”
“Are we not friends? I could not idly stand by and let the cold take you.” Olberic dared to smile at him. “You may keep that for the night. I hardly mind.”
Wener’s threats rang in his mind. He held the coat closer anyway. “Thank you. Come sunrise, it is yours once more.”
For a moment, Erhardt had entertained the idea of sleeping at Olberic’s side in his tent, and had decided it was not worth the risk. He could not let Werner know what lay within his heart.
He told himself it was better that way.
“Other than the extra blankets you see here, I have not given myself further comforts.” Erhardt tells himself he does not deserve them. He needs not burden others with the way fire makes him feel.
Bale frowns at him. “May I ask why? You are as good a soldier and man as the others here. I don’t see a reason to punish yourself.”
Erhardt sees plenty, but he doesn’t voice his opinion. “I did not give it much thought. That is all, Captain Bale.”
“...Aye. If that is what you say.” Erhardt’s inclined to believe he’s hardly bought his lie. “I shall see what medicine we have in our reserves. When night falls, I shall come to light the hearth, as you are to be on bedrest.”
Erhardt does not tell him fire would worsen his condition. He views his fear as pathetic, no better than a child who believes there lies a monster under their bed. How will the others look upon him, to see that one of their finest fighters is tormented by the smell of burning wood? All men may carry vices of their own, he tries to tell himself, but it is far too easy to lose himself to unkind thoughts.
When he gazes into the fire’s depths later that night, Hornburg’s fall plays itself out once again.
Erhardt does not sleep.
Winters in the Highlands are as cold as Erhardt remembers, but his one grace is they are not something he must face alone.
He finds himself within Olberic’s arms, a luxury he never once thought would be his own. He is able to breathe in his warmth, to not worry of the cold air seeping into his bones. Despite this, when it is apparent snow is not far off, he is aware that his fear cannot cause Olberic to suffer alongside him.
A faint orange glow emanates from their hearth, bathing their home in a light Erhardt does not find comfort in. His eyes are fixated on the flames, his breath stuck in his throat, still cold despite their presence.
“We shall be safe, Erhardt.” Olberic’s voice is gentle. “You know we shall not allow the fire to spread.”
“I am aware of such a thing, and yet…” He exhales a slow, shaky sigh. “I cannot afford to lose what I hold dear once again.”
Olberic’s fingers slowly coast through his hair. “I would not let that happen to us. Did I not say your happiness was my newfound purpose? That my words were to keep you safe in all matters?”
“Do not think I would forget them so easily.” Erhardt closes his eyes in an attempt to relax. “Surely you understand the hesitations I still bear.”
“I know this, but I also know we cannot let ourselves freeze. Were there another way to keep us warm throughout winter, I would do so without second thought.” A brush of lips to the top of his head follows. “I cannot lie idle and listen to you blame yourself for your fears, Erhardt.”
Erhardt’s breath catches in his throat. “Is it not pathetic? I am thirty-six years old, Olberic, and I cannot handle something so simple as fire.”
“You are being needlessly cruel to yourself,” he murmurs, “such fears are understandable. It has taken much from you.”
They’ve spoken of this matter before, and perhaps it’s something Olberic figured out during their time as knights. Had he ever approached him on the subject, Erhardt fears he would have broken, would have told Olberic how Werner held his life on the tip of his blade. How in his worst nights, he entertained the idea of them fleeing Hornburg, to snap the strings Werner controlled him with. Olberic was far too honorable for such actions, he knew, and Erhardt had only looked upon him with silence and longing, heart heavy in his chest.
“Werner would use this against me.” Erhardt finds that his voice is barely above a whisper. “And I knew the man’s threats were not empty.”
Somehow, Olberic manages to hold him closer. “You deserved far better. I know these words seem hollow, but I cannot say them enough.”
“The times—” Erhardt digs his fingers into Olberic’s arms, “-the times he would threaten you, to set our camp ablaze—how you were to be an example—”
Olberic does not speak. He runs his hand down Erhardt’s back, nose buried into his hair. It’s to remind him he is still here, and Werner was never victorious over them both. No matter how the man tried, he could never truly sever the bond Olberic and Erhardt had formed.
“I betrayed you, and somehow that felt an easier task than letting Werner lay a hand upon you.” Sometimes, Erhardt still sees the look of horror Olberic held that day. “T’was far easier to make you hate me, to call myself a coward—I convinced myself it would be easier—”
It’s far too easy to lose himself in the guilt. Erhardt knows that Olberic loves him, that they’re learning to heal together, but at times he hardly feels worthy. He wonders if there will always lie the fear this happiness will be taken away, and he’ll be just as powerless as before.
“He should not have hurt you. Hurt us.” Olberic moves to rubbing small circles in his back next. “But there lies strength in the fact we are able to recover. You must not forget that.”
“He was far too cruel a man.” Erhardt feels how he is beginning to tremble in Olberic’s hold. “He would not only—how he would not hesitate to strike me to ensure I did not step out of line—”
“What a heinous man,” is the only reply Erhardt hears, but he can sense the quiet anger in Olberic’s voice. “I do not have the words for the way he mistreated you.”
Something of an apology makes an attempt to leave Erhardt’s throat, yet it comes out as a sob instead. He buries his face into Olberic’s shoulder as an agonized gasp leaves him, fingers digging harder into his arms as an attempt to ground himself. He hasn’t let himself weep in years, nor did he dare for Werner to risk discovering him in such a state. It’s loud and painful and ugly, the wails that leave him, but Erhardt has carried this hurt for far too long.
“I am here, Erhardt.” Olberic keeps his voice low. “You need not hide yourself any longer. Know that I will not judge you for needing to cry.”
Erhardt’s body continues to wrack with sobs. He finally feels safe, something so unfamiliar yet kind as Olberic’s comforts continue to grace him. Werner’s reach only goes so far, unable to pierce the shield that Olberic protects them with. He’s held as tightly as needed, his dear heart never daring to let go, providing a privilege Erhardt never once thought he would have.
“You need not apologize either, Erhardt. I know that you wish to.” Olberic brushes some hair behind his ear. “I do not like seeing you so hurt, but this is no fault of your own. You know that I choose to carry this burden at your side. We have been as one since our reunion, and always shall we be.”
“I—” Erhardt swallows thickly, blinking through another round of tears. “You have your burdens as well, Olberic. I cannot weigh you down with my own.”
“Aye, but I know that I can carry them both with ease. I have remained unbending my entire life, and that will not stop now.” Olberic’s hand cups Erhardt’s jaw, tipping it upward. “I am to be at your side, Erhardt. Always.”
Gods take him—Erhardt truly wonders what he has done to earn such gentle touches. He leans into Olberic’s hand, letting out a shaky sigh as his fingers brush through his hair once more. Erhardt finds that his own hand is able to move, and traces his touch up Olberic’s arm before wrapping his fingers around his.
“If we must douse the fire tonight, so be it. Your comfort carries a far greater importance.” Olberic places a gentle kiss upon his brow. “There are extra blankets I can find for us.”
“No,” Erhardt says, “I have gotten this far. I believe I shall be alright, dear heart. I must believe I can face this.”
“If you are certain,” he replies with a nod, “but know that I am proud of you for getting this far.”
“I will not soon forget—I could never, truthfully.” Erhardt rests their foreheads together. “How could I ever, when you are set to constantly remind me?”
Olberic gives a chuckle. “It is a duty I shall bear with pride.”
Erhardt takes this moment to study Olberic’s features in the fire’s glow, how it paints them with warmth. It brings a new shine to his eyes, one that reminds Erhardt of the sun. If he can learn to associate fire with the warmth his lover brings, perhaps he can begin to heal properly. If it shall offer him gentle nights with Olberic, warm tea and kisses shared by the hearth, it can begin to heal the scars laid across his heart.
With Olberic, Erhardt truly feels he can finally begin to move forward.