Cassian slept through the night. No screams or battle cries dragged him from sleep, no bloodstained swords or bodies invaded his subconscious. Perhaps it was the exhaustion, but more likely, the two males sleeping beside him, the two he would do it all again for, would fight every day if necessary, the only two people who had ever really known him, known his heart. He reached out, seeking warmth, but his hand met cold sheets, and he blinked his eyes open, the space in front of him empty, save for the crumpled sheets, the scent. He was about to call out when someone tugged him backwards, into a warm body behind him,
"Don' ge' up," that someone mumbled, the words barely coherent, and Cassian chuckled to himself, the first laugh since walking off that battlefield, and flipped himself over, wincing at the movement, and laughed again when Rhys blinked in the light, no longer hiding in the shadows of Cassian's wings. He huffed, but didn't complain again, albeit not allowing Cassian to move much more, "Just, just stay," he muttered, "Don't go,"
"I'm not going anywhere," Cassian muttered, somehow unable to close his eyes again, despite the fatigue demanding he sleep, he couldn't take his eyes off Rhys, his High Lord, his brother. "I heard you come in last night, you okay?" Cassian didn't want to consider what had happened yesterday for Rhys to seek them out, unable to face sleep on his own, didn't want to consider that his brother, his little brother might have experienced something similar to him.
"I'm alright," he muttered, his voice small, not quite believing the words himself, "Was just worried 'bout you," Rhys had hardly moved, aside from flinching from the light, and wrapping his arms around Cassian, he hadn't really moved, "Az said you were a bit lost,"
"He was right, he always is," Cassian admitted, expecting the weight of the battle to hit him again, but it didn't, the memory was there, the feelings there, but less, manageable somehow. He mussed Rhys' hair with his free arm, the other pinned beneath his brother.
"I just needed to know you were alright, both of you, I saw the lists, I just had to see you both with my own eyes," alright, was he alright? Physically, yes, but what Az had helped with last night could only go so far, and he still had to visit families, write up reports, face the disapproval of his commanders, face the sons who'd lost their fathers, mothers who'd lost their sons. He couldn't do it, he couldn't do it, couldn't do it, couldn't- "Cass," Rhys' voice snapped through the thoughts, drew him back to the present, he was sitting up now, leaning back against the wall the bed was set against, not his room, not his, Azriel's, Az, he wasn't here, Cassian glanced around the room, he wasn't there, he wasn't there, "Cass," again Rhys drew his attention, "Az is fine, he's making breakfast, he's fine, he's fine." He's fine, he's fine. Cassian repeated the words until the fear subsided a little, enough that he could focus on Rhys' face, hovering beside his, worry etched across it, "Deep breath for me," Cassian obeyed, not realizing that his breaths had become fast, shallow, completely ineffective. He cursed himself for letting it get to this point, for letting such a little thing get the better of him, he was supposed to be better than this, supposed to be able to lead, to command, how could he do that if he couldn't even keep himself together? Shit, he fought desperately for a deep, slow breath, but the air wouldn't obey, wouldn't fill his lungs. He fought for another breath, any breath, and came up empty handed.
Rhys was still there, one hand on Cassian's shoulder, squeezing gently, the other tipping his head back, forcing him to inhale. Cassian reached blindly, closing his eyes to hide the tears starting to form, he couldn't do it, he wasn't good enough, and now he was going to die, right here in Azriel's bed, he might have joked about it before, but now he was dying, he couldn't any air in, he couldn't do it, couldn't do it.
"Stop." Every thought faded as Cassian's focus narrowed in on that voice, the pure command lacing the tone. He couldn't help it, he stopped. He stopped thinking, stopped struggling for a breath, the air flowing back into his lungs as he stopped fighting, "There you go, open your eyes." Cassian was safe, he was home, he was safe, he had Rhys, he wasn't dying not like this, he refused to die like this. "Breathe in for four, hold for four, then out for four and hold for four again." Not a suggestion, and order, and he obeyed, his focus on Rhys' voice counting out the numbers, each breath clearing a thought. Reports could wait, visits could wait, his commanders could shove it, none of that mattered, not now, now all he needed to think about was his brothers, the one looking after him, and the one cooking,
"Az is cooking?" Cassian asked, offering a smile at the flicker of relief that crossed Rhys' face, he hid it, replacing it with amusement, but it was there,
"Ten royals he burns it,"
"You're on, that male can cook, not as well as me, of course, but he can cook, not like our little lordling." Rhys raised an eyebrow,
"Little lordling?" Cassian hummed in assent, and Rhys lightly punched his shoulder, "You wanna go see if he's managed not to burn the House down?" He asked, louder than was required,
"Oi! I'd like to see you do better, Rhysie!" Azriel's voice, lighter than usual, drifted from the kitchen, along with the scent of, thankfully, unburned bacon,
"Looks like I win," Cassian chuckled, and allowed Rhys to pull him up, slinging an arm around his shoulders, "Thank you," he said at last, once the silence had become unbearable,
"Wanna talk?" Cassian shook his head,
"It can wait, I'm gonna do it one thing at a time,"
"Come find us if you need us." Cassian was about to respond when they rounded the corner to the kitchen, finding Azriel leaning against the counter, two plates in front of him.
"Since someone bet against me, he doesn't get breakfast." Rhys gasped in outrage,
"My own brother! How could you!" He wailed dramatically, and Cassian snorted, a laugh, a real one, slipping out when Azriel produced a third plate from behind his back,
"I could be persuaded to change my mind."