Sinbad's body was hard against his. His arms wrapped tight around Proteus' shaking form, burying his face in Proteus' neck. Proteus knew it was inappropriate - that the members of the Twelve Cities behind him were condemning them both. He didn't care. Right now, Sinbad was the only thing that could get the image of the axe blade slicing down in front of his face out of his mind.
Proteus could feel Sinbad's fingers digging into his back, drawing him as close as he could get. All those years apart, he had never realized how much he had missed Sinbad's embrace. The hard fold of his arms around him.
As Proteus had waited for death, it was the one thing that had kept him going. Lonely nights in his cell, he had imagined Sinbad's return. The way that Sinbad would throw his arms around him, wearing that gods-cursed grin of his.
He had never imagined that Sinbad would return with tears in his eyes.
It took him a moment to realize that Sinbad's lips were moving against his neck, whispering something over and over. A mantra. The exact words that Proteus dreamt of.
"I'm here." Sinbad whispered, again and again, moving to kiss the tears from Proteus' face. "I'm here, I'm right here."