+ Fallacy, a 100themes Challenge +
Sarehptar
Theme: 10, Breathe Again
Characters: Kharl, Rath, mentions of Rune and Thatz
Pairing: None
Warnings: None
Need to Know Info: Book 14's infamous Avis Rara and Rath scene.
Title Provider: Eternally (Utada)
Maybe This Moment is Just a Fantasy, but I Can Feel You Breathe
For a moment, he hardly dares to hope. He knows it is true, he trusts in the women they have both foolishly, thankfully, come to respect. He believes that Cesia's power is an almost too perfect fit; he believes that the artifact that has crossed worlds to fulfill his heart's desire, the only thing he could ever dream of wanting now, would never fail. He believes, but hope is foreign to him, and something inside him is skeptical. Something inside him has been screaming for hours, he's dead, you let him die, and he's not coming back! He is afraid to give in and feel, afraid to believe and be burned again. But it's true, isn't it? Rath is alive: reborn after his death like an immortal phoenix, like a monster.
He can feel the force of the rebuilt spirit from floors above—not the sense of a demon's ki but a father's sense of the soul he knows is inherently his own. He flees; he leaves the battles and the bodies behind, even though it is his responsibility to save them. He leaves behind the death because it seems cruel see blood and torn flesh when his eyes are dreaming of resurrection.
The knob, the only thing that separates them now, is warm beneath his hand, and he wants to believe it is inviting. It's a lie, but one he does not need sugar to swallow. The wall is so thin, but an eternity stretches there, between the blood-stained boards and insulation. He opens the dark oak door finally, does not make a sound.
It surprises him that the other Dragon Knights are already there, curled beside the bed like worshippers at an altar. Rath lies limply, and for a moment Kharl fears he has made some mistake, let his dreams get the better of him… But he can see the slow and steady rise and fall of the boy's chest beneath the immaculate covers. Gingerly he crosses the room, shedding his disguise just as he lays down the ash spell that will keep them all asleep. As much as he would like to speak to his son, to be seen, there is a danger in it that he would never invoke.
Hesitant, fearful, he approaches the boy who was dead, the boy who should never have died, the boy he will never be able to protect because the demon blood they share is part of what is destroying him. What would he not give to see into crimson eyes not clouded by hatred and lies? What would he not give to hold Rath again, the child he once was? He takes one pale hand with his own, marveling at how their skin is still exactly the same shade, marveling at the warmth of the touch. There is blood beating in that wrist, in that heart. Hope and happiness flutter like freed birds in his chest, and for a moment he can only lay beside the one creature he loves whole-heartedly, and listen.
The blood they share beats in that heart, and Rath breathes again.