It took Areti two days to realise he had killed two people. He had been focused on other things, like treating his and Ambrus’s injuries and making sure they had enough supplies to last them til they reached Pethra. It didn’t occur to him until he was sleeping on the hard ground, two days after rescuing Ambrus, that he was a murderer.

It came to him in his dreams, which until then had been filled with images of his blood-stained hands or a dead Ambrus. This dream was different. It started with him in the camp, surrounded by bodies, almost accurate to his memory. What changed was that Areti was stronger, faster, better than he had ever been while awake, cutting down anyone who stood in his way. 

He couldn’t say how long he was there, the clash of swords deafening. When he came back to himself, he was surrounded by a sea of bodies, all faceless and covered in blood. Beyond them all was Ambrus, waiting with the same wide-eyed look he’d had when Areti had saved him. When Areti had killed a man in front of him. 

He awoke with very little ceremony, no gasp or razor sharp urge to sit up. One second, he was surrounded by bodies, the next, all he could see were the stars high above him. It took a few moments for his body to realise it was awake, and to realise the truth that had come to him in his dreams. As soon as it did, the nausea set in. 

Within seconds, he was up, scrambling over to the edge of their makeshift camp, and vomiting into the bushes. He barely heard the sound of footsteps behind him over his retching, and flinched when a hand landed on his back. Ambrus. In his rush and panic and disgust, he had forgotten the other man was awake to keep watch. 

Ambrus whispered in his ear, hands on his back and pulling his sweat-matted hair away from his face. Areti wanted to push him away but his aching stomach forced him forward once again. He had to wait it out, let his limbs tremble and his mind scream obscenities at him, and let Ambrus comfort him in a way he didn’t deserve.

“Areti?” Ambrus said when he finally stopped and pushed himself up until he sat on his knees, chiton stained with sweat. 

“I killed people,” he whispered at the mess he’d left in the dirt. “Two of them. I killed them. I’ve never…”

Ambrus cursed and pulled him closer, turning him and pressing him against his chest. At any other time, Areti would have struggled and pulled away, but he was so tired. So tired. “I know, I know,” Ambrus replied, cradling the back of his head with a calloused hand. “But they would have killed you if you hadn’t. They would have killed me. You saved my life.”

He had, hadn’t he? He’d achieved what he wanted, but he hadn’t properly thought about what it meant. No, the people he killed hadn’t been innocent, they had been trying to kill him, but he still had blood on his hands. 

“It was so easy,” he said, voice muffled by Ambrus’s armour. His mind flashed back to the little resistance the flesh had given, even under such an under used sword. “It shouldn’t have been that easy. Why did I… What do I do now? How do I…”

The hands held him tighter and Ambrus sucked in a sharp breath above him. “I don’t know,” he said and finally, finally, Areti understood why Petros had seemed so sad whenever they mentioned how happy Ambrus usually was. That was an Ambrus of the past, from before the war, before he had killed. “I haven’t figured that out yet either, I’m sorry.”

He had known when he’d signed up to help the war effort that there was a chance that he would have to fight and kill someone. But five years had passed and he was not once sent to the front lines. A naive part of him had hoped that being a messenger meant that he would never have to kill anyone, never have to worry about fighting for his own life. If he hadn’t gone to find Ambrus, then he still would never have killed anyone. 

If he hadn’t gone to find Ambrus, then his friend would be dead and he would be the one to break that news to Petros. 

At least this way, they would be together again. After all those months separated, Areti was bringing them back together. It was going to break his heart, but he had to do it. That way, they would leave him be, because he didn’t quite expect them to even after his outburst. They wouldn’t need him once they were together again and Areti was both heartbroken and grateful for that fact. 

Even so, he didn’t pull away from Ambrus. He let the other man tug him back towards the single bedroll they had been swapping between them. Tears stained his face, his eyes ugly and puffy, but he didn’t care. He had killed two people. His heart was breaking. The man he adored was holding him like there was nothing wrong between them. 

If only he could go back and do it all again, say no when they asked or at least demand their true reasons for their actions. Maybe then Ambrus would have been able to defend himself properly and Areti would never have had to kill.

He didn’t realise he had fallen asleep until he woke, morning light bright in his eyes and a hard body under his cheek. He winced, head sore and mouth sour, and pushed himself into a sitting position. Ambrus was still awake, eyes heavy with exhaustion and staring up at him in concern. 

“Did you sleep?” Areti asked, his voice raw. 

The other man frowned and looked like he was going to ask his own questions, ones Areti wasn’t sure he could answer. “I dozed. I’ll be alright until tonight. It’s not the first time,” he answered, frown deepening when Areti continued to push himself away. If he believed that things would change because Areti had a moment of weakness, he was wrong. 

They’d barely spoken since they’d escaped the camp, despite Ambrus’s attempts at conversation. The only time they truly spoke was when Ambrus had thanked him or whenever they needed to discuss their next moves. Anything else, Areti pointedly ignored, not ready for friendly conversation after everything he’d been through.

“Areti-”

“Are you rested enough to keep moving?” he asked, unwilling to hear anything else that fell from Ambrus’s lips. 

He didn’t look at the other man’s face, busy checking his bag and digging through it for the meagre rations he usually had stored in it. Behind him, Ambrus struggled for words, before heaving a sigh and pushing to his feet. “I should be,” he eventually answered and held a hand out for something to eat. “I’ll let you know if that changes.”

Traveling with Ambrus wasn’t something he’d put much thought into when he’d decided to rescue him. On the road, it was all he could think about. It was painful and awkward after what he’d said to him, but he still stood by the necessity of it. The sooner they got to Pethra, the better. 

He ate quickly, already stomping down the abandoned road he’d led them to the day before. They’d seen no one else, not a single soul, and Areti wasn’t sure what that meant. Either the other soldiers had completely scattered, or they’d been found and killed by their enemy. Every night, he prayed to whichever Gods were listening that they would make it to Pethra. 

Ambrus soldiered on ahead of him, nudging Areti’s arm as he passed. He held back the cry of pain that threatened to come out and clutched at his arm as gently as he could. It still burned and stung with every movement, despite how well he had cleaned it and the bandages that covered the wound. 

The pain faded in a handful of seconds and Areti trudged on, watching the furious set of Ambrus’s shoulders heave with every step. It wouldn’t be much longer before he snapped and demanded a conversation Areti wasn’t ready to have, especially not after his dream the night before. 

A murderer, that was what he was now, even if it had been in self defence. Nausea crept back up again, but he forced it away. He needed to face it, needed to deal with it, as ill prepared as he was. He didn’t have any other choice in the matter, but he already knew it was something that would haunt him for years to come. If he ever made it that long. 

With Kallus gone, he wasn’t sure anymore. The war was ending, ever so slowly, but for the first time since it began, he wasn’t sure if he would come out on the winning side. He wasn’t sure if he would come out alive.

He shoved the thoughts away, desperately trying to find something else to focus on. The road, as unfamiliar as it was, was one he had taken before. It would eventually lead them back to the main road to Pethra in roughly the same length of time it usually took. Perhaps longer, seeing as there were two of them and they were both injured to some degree. 

Ambrus seemed to be better at dealing with injuries than he was, walking with a determination Areti’s wound slowly seeped from him. He was angry at both the outcome of the battle and what Areti had done, that much was obvious. It was fueling him and Areti gave it another day before he eventually snapped and demanded answers. 

It was hardly enough time to work through everything in his mind, but even he knew that constantly pushing away any attempt at talking about things wasn’t going to work eventually. He had hoped that it could last until they made it to Pethra, but he doubted he would ever be so lucky. 

When Ambrus glanced at him over his shoulder, he knew then that he wouldn’t get that extra day either. There was anger in his eyes, mixed with exhaustion and sadness that Areti knew he was the cause of. Guilt rushed through him in an instant and he hated it. How dare he feel guilty for doing what was best for him. How dare Ambrus make himself out to be the victim. 

But he hadn’t, not yet. He hadn’t said a word, but Areti knew he would blame him eventually. An awful part of his mind believed it, despite the words not being said yet. 

“Areti,” Ambrus said and looked surprised when he didn’t make some excuse to not speak. He was too tired. “I wanted to talk to you about… about what you said before the battle.”

“I really don’t,” Areti muttered under his breath, but was too far away for Ambrus to hear him. 

“I still believe I deserve some kind of explanation. This came out of nowhere. I thought… I thought you were alright with our arrangement,” he said, stopping in the middle of the path to wait for Areti to catch up. 

Areti swallowed but didn’t meet his gaze, focusing only on the path ahead of them. It didn’t matter what kind of conversation Ambrus wanted to have, they still needed to keep moving. “I gave you the letter from Petros, they explained everything so I wouldn’t have to,” he replied. 

Ambrus scoffed, a rueful noise that had Areti’s lips parting in shock. “I never got a chance to read that letter,” he said, his gaze weighing Areti down. “If you remember correctly, I was called for battle almost immediately. So, no, I have no idea what’s going on and for whatever reason, you don’t want to tell me.”

“Because I don’t want to have to go through it again!” Areti cried before he could stop himself. “The first time already hurt enough, Ambrus.”

He already knew he wouldn’t have a choice. If Ambrus hadn’t read the letter then he truly had no idea what was going on. A hand rested against his wrist, both comforting and questioning. He didn’t pull away from it, too tired to deal with whatever anger would come from it. 

“I changed my mind regarding our arrangement,” he said with a heavy sigh, gaze focused on the trees and fields around him instead of on Ambrus. “It was starting to hurt me greatly and I decided it was better for my own wellbeing that I distance myself from the both of you.”

Ambrus made a choked noise but Areti still didn’t look at him, couldn’t look at him. “And yet, you came back for me…” he whispered. 

“Do you really think I’d just leave you back there?” he replied, and turned to sneer incredulously at him. There was a sadness and confusion in his eyes that he didn’t want to think about. “I care for you, I wasn’t just going to let you die.”

He winced at his confession, but it could have been much worse. He could have said the truth of it all. Ambrus stared at him, lips parted and eyes filled with something unreadable, something that filled Areti with a small pang of painful hope. 

“You could have died, Areti!” he snapped, holding tighter to his thin wrist. “You told me yourself that you didn’t know how to fight as well as most warriors.”

“I wasn’t exactly thinking. All I knew was that you were in danger and there was a chance for me to get to you. And it worked, so we don’t exactly need to worry about it anymore,” Areti said, voice raspy and eyes pricking with tears. He was the one who needed to worry about his actions, not Ambrus. He was the one who had killed people and while Ambrus had no doubt done the same, he was far more used to it. 

“Because you care for me,” Ambrus said wistfully. 

It took a moment for the words to sink in, but when they did, Areti let out a low sigh. “And that’s why this needs to stop,” he said. “I no longer wished to be an object for you. I want to be wanted for who I am, not what I can do for you. Petros confirmed that what I wanted would not be what I got when I last spoke to them. I think that’s all I need to say regarding… all of this.”

But, of course, Ambrus wasn’t going to leave it be. He and Petros were similar in that regard at least. “No, wait. What did Petros say?” he asked. 

Jaw clenched, Areti took a moment before he replied, unsure of how he was supposed to say it. “They didn’t say anything, that was the problem,” he said, feeling like he was complaining about someone to their partner like a child. He took a deep breath before he continued, wishing for it all to be over already. “I told them how I felt, they… weren’t interested, which is what I expected from you both.”

The silence that followed was thick with a tension he didn’t quite understand. Ambrus was staring at him, eyes wide and lips parted with what looked to be shock. They’d stopped walking, frozen in the middle of the path when they desperately needed to keep moving. When he tried to take a step forward, the hand on his wrist tugged him back until they were doing nothing more than staring at each other in silence. 

Ambrus opened his mouth and one look at his eyes told Areit that he didn’t want to hear what was about to be said. “I need this to be over, Ambrus. Please don’t try to convince me otherwise,” he interrupted, almost choking on the words. “We’re on our way to Pethra, don’t you realise? Petros is waiting for you. You’re going to see them again. Which means we’re done anyway. So please, can we not speak of this anymore?”

“No, but-”

“Ambrus,” he said, the way a parent would scold a child. “Please. Can’t you just listen to me when I tell you that I don’t want to be involved with the two of you anymore? I’m tired. I’m done. Let’s just go.”

This time when he took a step, he pulled his wrist away with it, ignoring the flare of pain that shot up to his shoulder. He stalked down the road, not waiting for Ambrus to follow him and prayed that when he arrived in Pethra, it would be the end of all his troubles.