Helmwod shifted and opened his eyes, glancing down at the lithe, smaller figure nestled against his chest. He was a firm believer that people were meant to be if their bodies fit perfectly together as they slept. And so they did. Helaliath fit perfectly under his chin and fit perfectly in his arms.
Helm let his eyes drift shut and his mind wander. He had remembered to toss the window open before settling, letting the warm end of summer breeze drift in and kiss the two men.
He listened to the wind dancing amongst the leaves accompanied by the symphony of crickets. He smiled a little; the sound of crickets was all but absent during the drought and heatwave. Their sound was a reassurance that things would be alright. The cattle lowing softly reminded him of home and brought a sense of security to him.
He buried his nose into Liath's hair and inhaled his scent deeply, as if committing it to memory. A wave of serenity washed over him. He had not felt the desire to drink until he passed out.to get some semblance of sleep since he started sleeping beside him. He had not woken up thrashing and screaming at visions of twisted and mauled bodies that haunt his dreams. He hadn't felt the deep down urge to walk to Trestlebridge and cast himself off the cliff to end his soldier's torment and silence his mind. No, that would be Liath's undoing. He would not make him lose another after he had lost so much, besides, he thought, Liath had soothed him and intoxicated him more than the strongest liquor that man could make.
He had let himself break down and cry in front of him. He did not remember the last time he had cried, much less in front of people.
"And I enjoyed my time alive."
His fathers sickening last words before he was hung coursed through his mind.
Demlemoth recoiled in disgust, "You enjoyed what you did?!" Tessa's face was in grim disgust as she kicked the barrel out from under Magnelron's feet. The man was about to laugh at their reactions, but the rope tightened and went taut, causing him to choke on it.
Helm watched impassively as his father was cut down from the gallows. He was supposed to feel something, he thought. He just witnessed his father getting hung, the person who raised him after his mother's death when he was a child. The man was also his tormentor for his entire life; controlling, perverse, broken in the head. He was a danger and the other prisoners at the jail were calling for his death, otherwise they would have given it to him, if Bericoft wasn't smart and put the man in an isolated cell. Helmwod had been feeling numb and impassive all day, casting aside his own feelings to care for and tend to the emotional needs of the one he held in his arms and of his family. All this bottling up and brushing aside caused him to finally cave.
He took a shuddering breath and tightened his arms around the sleeping figure in his arms. Things would be alright. They were safe… For now…
And when they weren’t, he would protect them.
