(Did this for a prompt but it kinda took on a life of it's own so whoops. Wasn't gonna post it until azureheavens encouraged me to so yay. Many thanks to my poor beta Daidairo who has to deal with all my trashy nonsense.)

Oasis

The sun was scorching hot, blazing down upon desert sands. There was no wind, no shadow or shelter. Just endless dunes, stretching as far as Asbel could see.

There was no trace of the sandstorm that he'd been in just hours before, no sign of the friends that he'd been separated from. He'd been wandering for hours, trying to retrace his steps, but the ever-shifting sands made it hard to find any landmark. Sometimes he'd catch a glimpse of Sophie or Cheria- only for them to dissipate into thin air when he approached.

He was hopelessly lost, without food and water. He had to find shelter, but after hours of wandering, the only constant was the unending desert and the unrelenting sun.

His steps blurred into one another. His head felt light, even as his gut churned. The sound of his shallow breath echoed in his ears, and his muscles ached with every movement.

Then he tripped. With a strangled cry, he fell and slid down a dune. He struggled to stand, but his fingers couldn't find a grip in the fine sand. His legs wouldn't move.

Was this how it was going to end? It was all Asbel could do to even breathe. But he had so much he still had to do- Hubert had entrusted him with this mission. Lhant was still in danger. Sophie needed him, and Richard... He had to help him, no matter what.

But he couldn't get to his feet, and now... now it was too late.

Asbel squeezed his eyes shut. Prayed for oblivion to claim him, sooner rather than later. Then he felt a break in the heat- something covering him, blocking out the sun.

He managed to open his eyes- turn his head upwards. Glimpsed hazel eyes, blond hair. A familiar, worried face.

He smiled, before his consciousness slipped away.

The darkness was cool. Damp. Comforting.

Slowly, Asbel stirred from a dreamless sleep, his mind fogged and heavy. He was lying on something cold, solid- stone. A welcome comfort, after the scorching heat of the sun. The air was cooler here, not quite so dry. His breath no longer burned his throat. He tried to sit up, only to fall back when his arms buckled from the pain.

Then there was someone bracing his shoulder, holding him gently. He cracked his eyes open, and as they adjusted to the dark, he could make out the interior of a small cave. A small fire crackled some distance away, and from the entrance, he glimpsed the night sky, covering the Strahtan desert. Small, damp cloths lay over his bare chest, his wrists, his feet. His own clothes lay folded neatly in a corner nearby.

And by his side- he was there. Hazel eyes, blond hair. An unfamiliar expression, on a face that was anything but. Asbel never thought he'd see him again. Not here. Not like this. Not now.

"Richard." His voice was hoarse and his throat hurt, but at the sound of his name, the king- his king- flinched.

"Shh," Richard murmured, his deep voice comfortingly close to his ear. "You're dehydrated. Drink. Slowly now."

A cup was lifted to his mouth, and cool liquid grazed his lips. Gratefully, Asbel did as he was told. Water had never tasted this good before, and as he drank, the haziness that fogged his mind slowly lifted.

He was silent as Richard pulled away. The king looked just as he remembered, though his blond hair looked more unkempt than usual, and his lips were pressed into a thin line. It was a far cry from the last time they met, when a crazed light shone from the king's eyes, and his voice held an untamed fury. When he had declared that Asbel had betrayed him.

Now, the Richard that sat by his side was calm. Worry creased his brow as his hands gently removed the cloths on Asbel's body before tossing them into a nearby bucket. There was no aggression in his movements- just care, and concern. Much like he had been when they were travelling together, just mere months before.

But Asbel's reminiscing was cut short when Richard spoke. "What are you doing out here, Asbel?"

Asbel frowned. That wasn't the first question he expected from the king, and he doubted Richard would be pleased hearing that he was in Strahta to ensure Hubert would be able to maintain control of Lhant. Was sure, in fact, that the gentle demeanor the king wore would easily be replaced by the uncharacteristic rage that, even now, he still recalled. Just the memory of it sent a shudder down his spine.

"Asbel?" Richard's voice was gentle, his eyes so full of care that it hurt.

"I could ask the same of you," Asbel replied. "What's the king of Windor doing in Strahta?"

"Taking care of you, apparently." Richard quirked a smile, only for it to quickly fade away with a wince. Turning away, he murmured, "You almost died."

Whatever response Asbel wanted to muster faded at the soft break in Richard's voice, the way the king hunched over. Miserable. Afraid. Just like when they first met after his father was murdered in front of him. Except this time, it was Asbel that inspired those feelings.

Hesitantly, Asbel reached for Richard's hand. The king lifted his head, caution in his eyes as he watched him.

"Thank you," Asbel said.

A small smile cracked the king's stony facade. But, just like before, it quickly faded away with another wince.

Worriedly, Asbel leaned towards him. "Are you hurt?" he asked, though he could see no visible injuries.

"Stop, Asbel." Richard shook his hand away. "You shouldn't be worried about me. This... doesn't change anything between us. I just came upon you, and I couldn't let you die. Not like that."

"So, you're still angry with me." Asbel pulled back, suddenly aware of how frightening the shadows made Richard look. He never noticed that before.

"Can you blame me?" Richard asked. In the firelight, his eye glinted red as he fixed Asbel with a humorless smile. "After everything I did for you... you raised your sword against me."

A chill ran down Asbel's spine. Here he was, exposed and vulnerable, his sword belt lying across the cave. But, still...

"That may be true," he returned, "but you still saved me." He lifted his chin, met Richard's gaze with his own.

"Call it nostalgia." Richard shrugged. "We... were friends once, after all."

Friends. The word stung. The days they spent together, the way they'd depended on one another, been free together... Once, Asbel would have given his everything, his life, for the king before him. Maybe part of him still thought that he would.

"We were never just friends," he answered quietly. He caught the surprise on Richard's face.

"Oh, really?" The look on Richard's face darkened, a sinister light flickering in his eyes.

Asbel shook his head. "Don't you remember? I wanted to be your sword. To protect you. You gave me purpose and friendship, when I had none. You... you're important to me, Richard. Even now."

The king stilled. Asbel had no clue what thoughts ran through his head, or what he would even do. Hesitantly, Richard leaned in. Haunting, hazel eyes stared searchingly into his own, before he reached out with one hand, caressing Asbel's chin. Asbel didn't dare breathe, didn't dare to move. Up close, the intensity of his stare sent shivers down his spine.

"Richard-" he began, only to be silenced when the Richard moved.

Tentative, soft lips captured his own. Warm, gloved hands trailed their way to his shoulders, and down Asbel's spine. The sensation of his touch sparked a warm longing within him, and when he met the king's gaze, a familiar kindness shone from Richard's eyes.

He kissed back, wanting, if only for a moment, for things to return to the way they were. For his Richard to come back for good, to hold him as tenderly as he held him now.

They were so close. His scent, his touch... Richard moved in closer, the softness of his clothes betraying solid form underneath. His warmth ghosted against Asbel's bare skin, teasing him in a way he never knew possible. Gone was the hesitation. Now, there was a desperate desire in the way the king held him, moved against him- and Asbel wanted nothing more than to reciprocate; to give in. A soft moan escaped his lips-

And then, abruptly, Richard pushed him away. One moment, he was there- warm, enveloping- and suddenly he was across the cave, panting, arms clenched tight to his sides. Trembling.

Asbel shivered at the sudden chill. "Richard?" he whispered, unable to keep the hurt and bewilderment out of his voice.

"Stop it, Asbel." Richard bit his lip, wrapped his arms tight around himself. "This isn't... this isn't what I want. Not anymore."

He caught a glimpse of the king's face. A deep loneliness, a pained grief. And then, with a swish of his cloak, Richard fled. Out of the cave, into the night.

"Richard, wait!" Asbel staggered onto his feet, tried to make it to the entrance. But his body was far too weak, and he only made it halfway before he crumpled once more.

The stone of the cave's floor was different from the sand dunes where he collapsed before. Cold, instead of the searing, biting heat. But the same feeling of helplessness, of things left undone- of not being able to help Richard- ate at him.

And alone on the floor, he was left only with his broken heart.

Sometime in the night, he must have drifted off to sleep. What followed was a hazy cacophony of sounds and glimpses- of the howling sandstorm, of heat that scorched his skin... of Richard, hands glowing as he held him close. And when he finally woke, he found himself staring into Pascal's familiar, amber eyes.

"He's awake!" she whooped, throwing her hands into the air. Asbel blinked, and suddenly he was surrounded by his friends- Cheria, Malik, Sophie... With a frown, he searched his memories. Someone had moved him off the floor onto a bedroll and dressed him, and gone were the bucket and cup that Richard had used before.

"What... happened?" he asked at last. Frowns appeared on the faces of his friends. They glanced at each other, an unspoken question passing between them.

"That's what we should be asking you," Malik finally spoke up. "After we lost sight of you in the sandstorm yesterday, we've been searching non-stop."

"In fact," Pascal added, "It was only when Sophie came dashing down here that we found you in this dinky cave. I gotta say, it's impressive that you managed to find shelter here. We almost didn't see it. And look at you, none the worse for wear!"

Asbel frowned. "I wasn't fine," he murmured. "I passed out in the desert. But Richard saved me, and brought me here."

His friends exchanged glances. Cheria leaned in, worry evident in her eyes. Hesitantly, she pressed a hand against his forehead, a healing glow emanating from them. He waited patiently until she moved back, but there was a frown on her face as she picked up his hands. "Asbel," she said softly, "you're in the peak of health. If you passed out from a heatstroke, there's no way you'd be able to talk to us like this. You're talking, you're hydrated- you look as healthy as when we last saw you."

"Besides," Malik said, clapping his shoulder, "Why would the king of Windor be out here in Strahta, saving you?"

"Why indeed," Asbel muttered. He still remembered the way Richard braced him, the tense look on his face. The warmth of the kiss they shared...

There was no way it was all just in his head, could it...?

"Maybe you just got confused," Pascal suggested. "The desert plays craaazy tricks on people sometimes, though I've never heard of a case as extreme as yours."

"Yeah, that must be it," he acquiesced, biting down on his denials. Better not worry his friends any more than they already had been. Flashing a small smile, he said, "I'm glad you guys found me."

"Feeling's mutual," Cheria answered. She flashed him a smile, giving him a little pat on his hand. "We'll rest a bit longer, and then we'll head out when the sun's lower."

"Sounds like a plan." Asbel nodded. His friends quickly dispersed around the cave, preparing for the trek ahead.

He began to run a check of his belongings- sword, clothes. Hubert's good luck charm. The work helped him focus on what needed to be done, rather than the dull throbbing in his heart. But as he started checking on the party's supplies and water, he was aware of Sophie, standing behind him.

"What's up, Sophie?" Asbel asked. He paused in his work to give the girl a smile. There was a strange look on her face, almost... sad.

She stared at him, hands clasped behind her back. Quietly, she murmured, "I believe you. I felt him here, too."

Asbel stilled. All at once, everything he was trying to forget welled up inside him, and it was all he could do not to cry.

Then gentle hands wrapped themselves around his neck, and he was aware of Sophie, stroking his head, bracing him against her shoulder. "We'll get him back, Asbel," she murmured. "He's our friend, right?"

"Yeah." He breathed shakily. "Yeah. We will."

Richard watched as they set forth in the setting light of the sun. Asbel seemed fine. He was hale, laughing and joking with the rest of his friends. Safe.

"Thank you for saving him."

The voice in the back of his head grunted. "A futile gesture. It was more than he deserved."

Richard swallowed the lump in his throat. He had no idea why he acted the way he did. But when he saw Asbel on the ground, something snapped within him. He couldn't let him die- not the man who provoked such intense feelings within him. The man who, once upon a time, Richard would have given everything to have by his side.

He sighed. Such feelings and regrets belonged in the past, before Asbel betrayed him.

"We must go."

Richard nodded. And with a final glance at Asbel's departing figure, he turned and walked away.