Pain throbbed from every inch of his body as Zephyr slowly opened his eyes. He softly groaned, lifting his head up, which was halted by the pain. The entire body was wrapped with bandages, reminding him of the battle he hardly remembered. Turning to the side, his heart skipped a beat as he saw Elira sleeping beside him, still holding his hand.
He could not help but glance at her for that brief moment when he figured out that she was so serene. He felt an unstoppable instinct to reach out and brush the strand of hair falling on her face. He walked really slowly so that he would not wake her up, but the movement itself was huge enough to wake her up.
Her eyes just burst open wide and panicky, then, entirely on him. Concern preceded that, so he was slightly relieved, but what came after that, anger, he wasn't prepared for.
She struck him in the face without a word.
He blinked in surprise at Zephyr's slap stinging across his cheek. Before he could utter a word, she launched herself on top of him, clasping her arms tightly around his frame. Her body shook with convulsive sobs.
For a moment, he hesitated, not knowing whether to say or do anything. The world began to blur out around him as he held her; she shivered against him. When Elira pulled back, her face was rent with tears; her eyes were already red and swollen with worry.
"What is it?" Zephyr asked softly, with a tone of concern.
Elira rubbed her eyes, still shuddering. "You fool… You were so harsh on yourself during that fight. You tripped. Had it not been for one of the soldiers tugging you back, you would have-
She couldn't complete the sentence, her voice cracking. Zephyr's chest felt tight. He could feel his mind flash back to memories of battle: fire, smoke, and then nothing.
"How long is it?" he asked in a low voice, finding it difficult to balance.
"Three days," Elira said her voice softening. "Three days, Zephyr. I thought I was going to lose you."
Zephyr took in her words, his eyes feeling the weight of the situation hitting squarely. He took her shoulders gently, scanning hers with his gaze. "And the battle? What's gone on?"
Elira hesitated, and flicking down at the floor beneath her from her eyes before speaking. "We held out for two days. But on the third day, we had to retreat. We could not hold our position any longer."
Zephyr's face was sulky. "And now?"
She shambled over to the window, ran her hand back open the curtains, letting tempest rage in. Gales had been cutting through trees, and the rain pounded at windows. "The Arcanans sent a message. They're offering a truce today. No fighting."
Zephyr laughed roughly, although his eyes didn't smile. "A break from battle, huh? Must be nice." He turned back to her, his voice softening the rough edge. "You should rest, Elira. You've been here the whole time, haven't you? I bet you haven't slept in days."
She squirmed to stand beside the door, miserable. "Really? You're fine this way? Just. Can't leave you."
Zephyr smiled weakly, too. "I'll be all right. You need more rest than I do,"
He looked at her, still uncertain as he nodded in the end. "Okay. but promise me you won't overexert yourself, okay?"
"I swear."
She smiled at him one last time before she stepped out, but just as she had caught the door halfway out, Zephyr called out in mocking cadence, "And I can still feel you there, Elira. Go to your room and rest."
Her eyes rose to meet his, with a small smile tugging at the corner of her lips. "Okay… but don't go overboard, Zephyr."
And as she moved, Zephyr sat back and let out a heavy sigh. He hurt all over, but the ache that filled his head was not pain in his body. The memories resurfaced-when he was small, weak, and frail, when he spent most of his days in bed. This is where his mother always seated herself beside him to brush his hair or hold his hand, and he was one of the weak ones, could not keep pace with the others.
But then one day, everything had shifted. He woke up to power he hadn't known he had. On the same night, wolves had attacked his village. He had fought that battle off without knowing how much strength he had because with the battle over, the villagers were looking at him in fear at eye level.
They labelled him as a monster.
Even his mother, whom he had trusted above all others, regarded him with terror. She implored him to go away, and outcast from the village, he wandered till he chanced on a company of mercenaries who were willing to take him in. He became their errand boy, doing chores and running tasks just to be close, to belong.
But that was too brief. When they were ambushed, the true strength of Zephyr was revealed once more. Then the once-friendly mercenaries regarded him with malevolence; the leader threw him some coins and ran off.
And so, once again, he found himself alone.
Thoughts of Zephyr were broken by Elira who returned with a tray of food. Calming a little as she fed him, she sat beside him and whispered softly. "Eat." Then opening his mouth, she pushed the spoonful of porridge into his mouth.
His chin moves obediently, bite after bite, perhaps nourishment, but it feels more like: her care, her love, quietly sewn into every motion.
When she'd finished, she smiled up at him. "You need some rest now, Zephyr. Don't argue."
Zephyr opened his mouth to protest, but he could only whisper, "Elira… would you mind if I kept you a little longer?"
But Elira had doubts at that. She pushed the tray away and pulled him in close for a warm embrace. Zephyr closed his eyes; embracing her tight, as if everything from the outside world stopped having a meaning.
She returned him to the bed and smoothed back strands of hair from his forehead. "Sleep tight, Zephyr," she whispered in a gentle voice, low and soothing, like lullabies.
She went away, leaving to himself the warm wrap of her presence which covered Zephyr in forgetfulness of the storm outside, as slumber took him.