“You know that time you slammed me into a wall to show me how pissed off you were?” Raim asks. “I kinda preferred that to you keeping quiet about this shit.”

He’s scowling something fierce, hands gripping the edge of the table he’s leaning against so hard his knuckles are white. Val worries about the new spell he’s been working on, currently spread on the same table in a mess of notes, magic circles and various ingredients, so he grabs Raim’s wrist and pulls him along until they are both sitting on their bed.

Their room is pretty small, but big enough for a table with two chairs, a wardrobe and a cabinet. They even have a window seat and a tiny coffee table. It’s so cozy it scares Val sometimes, but he also loves it.

He rubs Raim’s knuckles with his thumbs. “What are you talking about?”

“You’re not dumb. Figure it out.”

Val closes his eyes and searches for patience. “I’m serious, Raim. I don’t know what you mean.”

“I know what that spell on the table is supposed to be.”

“So?”

“So you can scrap it, because we aren’t using it.”

Val draws up, drops Raims hands in the process. “Why? If I work it out right, it’ll be good protection against sand golems.”

“I don’t care. Nobody asked you to make it. We’re fine.”

“Nobody had to ask me! It’s obvious that we need something to counter them. I’m solving a very real problem we have.”

“You’re being an asshole, is what you’re doing.” Raim growls. Actually growls. “And you could own up about the nightmares, too.”

Val winces.

“Of course I noticed, Val, you aren’t exactly subtle when you scream in the middle of the night.”

“I’m sorry. How many times have I woken you up? Maybe I should sleep in another room for a while.”

Raim grabs his shoulders and shakes him. “This! This is what I’m talking about! Stop pretending like you’re fine and talk to me!”

Val’s ears ring from the yelling. He frowns, opens his mouth to yell back something nasty, when it dawns on him that neither of them is making a lot of sense.

“What, cat got your tongue?” Raim sounds like he’s either guilty or sulking now. He’s lowered his voice.

“I’m going to finish the spell,” says Val, and raises a hand to silence Raim’s protest. “I am, because that’s what I do. I find ways around problems, and I make spells and do research because I like it, all right?”

Raim’s eyes widen a bit. He nods.

Now the difficult part. “But I get what you’re saying about not talking to you. I can’t promise you anything, but I’ll try. I’m new at this. I’ve never… There hasn’t been someone I could share my troubles with in a really long time, Raim.”

“Shit.” Raim pulls him into a crushing hug. “Now I feel like an asshole. I shouldn’t have yelled, but it pisses me off so much when you act like you don’t care when I know you’re bothered by something. You’re supposed to trust me with these things. I trust you.”

That’s really not a proper apology, but Val will take it. It’s not like he’s any better at navigating their relationship.

He worries about it. One day Raim might get tired of Val’s bullshit and end things. That thought alone is the source of some of his nightmares.

Despite his promise to try, Val can’t tell Raim about it. It’s a stupid, pointless fear. And what could Raim do about it, anyway? Any promise he might make would be meaningless. Val’s the problem, he and his insecurity, and his inability to just be happy.

So he says nothing, and squeezes Raim back just as hard.

*

Sand golems are not just dangerous - they are also terribly ugly. Val thinks of them privately as chimera, made up of pieces of desert creatures. The ones currently storming Bonehelm look like scorpions with bat wings, and they are huge, easily the size of a horse.

Val wishes for that shield spell he was working on, still unfinished on his table. He tears a tiny glass bottle off his necklace and crushes it between gloved fingers. The magic circles sewn into both gloves light up, briefly, chilling Val up to his elbows. The floating ball of water between his palms bubbles and grows, spreads and splits until it becomes a water spider with a skeleton of ice, Val’s own golem. It spears two sand golems with its long legs, soaking them.

Val’s gloves light up again and he murmurs a counter-magic incantation. The soaked golems stop moving, then slowly crumble away until they’re two large piles of wet sand.

The battle is as chaotic as ever. Val wipes at his sweaty forehead and watched Gin easily sidestep a mighty swing of a scorpion tail. Off to Val’s left, Raim seems to have given up on lightning strikes and keps maybe fifty swords made of light in the air around him, like a very dangerous halo. He slashes at the golems, murmuring his own incantations.

Val feels a golem enter the bubble of awareness he’s spread around himself through enchanted mist and bats it away with his spider, then destroys the golem. The pendant hanging low on a long chain around his neck grows colder, and Val curses under his breath.

This battle has been going on for most of a day. Val’s spells - and, he grudgingly admits to himself, Gin’s speed and incredible skill - have been what’s kept them on the winning side this long. There are four more water spiders on the battlefield and Val barely has the time to take a breath between incantations.

He’s overdoing it. What he needs is a moment with his focus, to centre himself, and he doesn’t need the pendant to remind him about it. But the battle is too chaotic, too close. The sand golems just keep coming.

Val’s spells have been criticised for how complicated they are, but really, their intricacy is the point. They are carefully designed to serve their purpose while allowing the user to exert a minimal amount of effort. Still, Val never expected to maintain five semi-sentient golems at the same time, on top of a few minor spells.

It’s more of a strain than he’s prepared for. He’s tried to catch Raim’s attention several times, sure that even a brief moment of physical touch with his focus would solve the issue, but it’s been impossible. Two of his spiders are already protecting the injured, more than half of their forces, and the battle is far from over.

Val clutches at his pendant with one hand. It’s ice cold, which means he should immediately dispel the spiders and retreat.

Yeah, right.

He does something he never expected to do, but prepared for. He touches the small magic tattoo on the back of his neck and activates it. It takes over him slowly. He loses awareness of his legs first, then his torso and arms. The sounds of battle fade away, the smell of blood and wet sand feels like a distant memory. Finally, the world goes black.

Some time later - could be minutes, could be hours, could be days - Val wakes up to someone shouting his name.

“Val! Valaris! Come on, wake up, please!”

Who…? Oh, Raim, of course. Val sighs, relishes the feeling of air entering his lungs, the wind on his skin, even the hands on his shoulders, squeezing hard enough to bruise. He blinks until Raim’s face comes into focus, smiles - only to freeze up in dread when he realizes his pendant is heavier than it should be. He looks down. Ice has settled around the miniature hourglass, empty inside except for a dash of magic. A lot of ice.

“Val?” Raim’s tone is hopeful, though they both know what’s going on here. “You can dispel the spiders already. We’re almost done fighting.”

Val takes in the battlefield. Only two of his spiders remain, still shielding the wounded. Gin flits here and there, dealing with the remaining sand golems. A few other, less injured mages do the same.

Val’s eyes slide shut. He rests his head on Raim’s shoulder. “Good.”

He bids his spiders farewell. He doesn’t have to look to know the water spills around the ice skeletons, which will melt in a few moments.

Raim’s hands frame his face. There’s blood and sand on them, but Val finds it easy to ignore. Raim is chanting, channeling his own magic to share it with Val. It’s the kind of warm only light magic tends to be.

“Do you have enough to keep yourself steady?”

Raim scoffs. “Of course, you idiot, I didn’t go and drain myself on something as stupid as sand scorpions. What were you doing?”

“Not sure. I let go of the reins for a while there.”

“You mean to tell me you used that obscure spell from a shady old book which you didn’t test?”

“Mhmm.”

“Val…”

“It worked, didn’t it?”

Raim pushes him away, though only enough to give him the gentlest headbutt. “Couldn’t you just call me over?”

Oh, Raim’s eyes are wet. Though still dazed and basking under the influx of Raim’s magic, Val knows he hates that.

“I’m sorry. I tried.”

“What the fuck? I was literally right there next to you.”

“But I made do on my own.”

“That’s the thing!” Raim shouts, causing a few heads to turn their way. He doesn’t seem to notice. “You aren’t supposed to deal with this yourself. You came this close to falling! How long have I been your focus, Val? Is it really so difficult to ask for my help?”

Val opens his mouth to deny it, but closes it before he has a chance to voice the lie. He could have tried harder. He could have just fought his way over to Raim and taken what he needed. That’s what a focus is for. He just couldn’t make himself do it.

Do I really hate relying on him to such an extent, he wonders. Out loud, the best he can manage is, “I’m sorry.”