Chapter Text
Dawn broke and Robert lay quietly in bed. He didn't know how long he lay there before the door opened. He just stayed under the covers.
"Mister Oppenheimer?", said a hesitant female voice. "Uhm... your holiness?"Oh my god. He sighed.
The rustling of fabric. "I'll just place this here…", said the voice nervously and not a moment later the woman had disappeared again. The door slammed shut. The bang echoed unnaturally loudly down the hall. Quick steps moved away from his room, as if she were running. Understandable.
Robert had been picked up that morning by two guards. They walked a few steps behind him all the time. He was walking down the endless stairs, the ornate banister his only support. Robert was dressed in a Kefta. His own Kefta. It was made out of the same sturdy material the General’s was, black and luxurious. His, however, had gold embroidery all over. There was a belt with a golden buckle as well. This morning Robert hadn't been sure what to do with it as he looked back and forth between his old belt with the badge and the new one. Genya had said not to give up on what made him who he was. He had touched the badge and sighed again, like laughing stock. The decision had been made for him. It was too late.
Now he was going down the stairs, he didn't even know where he was supposed to go. When he got to the bottom, guards blocked his way. He looked right at their faces, but actually he stared trough.
“Mister Oppenheimer, there you are!”
He turned around. A man in a red kefta came towards him from the right. He had dark hair and brown eyes. He seemed familiar… from the carriage?
“Oh, you probably don’t remember!” The man looked at him, wringing his hands. “My name is Fedyor, we’ve met in the army camp.”
“I remember”, Robert said a bit perplexed.
“I’m here to accompany you to your training.” Fedyor shifted from one foot to the other. “I was instructed to be your contact person. Please let me know if I’m doing something wrong, I don’t want to upset you in any way…”
Robert looked at him with wide eyes. “Well… about yesterday…”
“Don’t worry about that! No one will bother you again and -”
“Please tell me, how are the injured?”
Fedyor stopped. “Oh?” He looked at him with wide eyes. “From what I’ve heard, most of them are stable, the healers treated them throughout the night…”
“Please, you have to make sure that the open wounds don’t become infected, you have to prevent sepsis, how long did it take for the first symptoms to appear? Around an hour? Tell them that the bleeding has to be stopped, if the bone marrow isn’t damaged yet, there might still be hope! If I can help somehow…” Robert looked at the floor. A tingling feeling behind his eyes. “I didn’t mean any of this…” How had it ever come to this?
“Hey…” A hand on his shoulder. “Our healers are taking care of them."
Robert looked up, into friendly eyes. Fedyor looked at him… full of compassion.
“I’m so sorry”, Robert said.
“They’ll manage, I’m sure. Our healers are the best in all of Ravka. Thank you for offering your help, Mister Oppenheimer”, Fedyor said with a sincere smile.
“You can call me Robert.”
“Nice to meet you!” Fedyors smile broadened and he held out his hand for Robert to shake.
"Nice to meet you too", Robert said and shook his hand, he managed a faint smile. But when he looked at the man’s hand, there was suddenly scorched skin, blood... he blinked. Fedyor looked at him, smiling. Robert swallowed.
"You know... I don't know how to say this“, Fedyor started while walking with Robert, „But... I get it. It can be pretty challenging to control one’s powers upon realizing their potential. When I was younger I even had the one or other accident myself.“
"But probably not to this extent", Robert said sarcastically.
Fedyor grinned. "Oh well, I'm not as powerful as you are."
They reached a door to an inner courtyard. Outside were various groups of Grisha in blue and red uniforms, some in different poses, obviously in training.
Fedyor smiled. "Welcome to combat training."
They walked side by side out onto the square.
“Sun Summoner.” A man in dark clothing approached them. It didn't look like a kefta. “All of Ravka’s foes want to kill you before you can destroy the Fold.” Several Grisha gathered around her and formed a circle. “It’s a great honor to have so many enemies.”
“Not only Ravkas foes…”, came a remark from the side, snickering. Some of the Grisha were whispering. “... makes himself seen at last...”
“Don't listen to them,” Fedyor mumbled from the side.
“You must learn to defend yourself fast.” Roberts focus was back on the man in front of him. “Do you know how to fight?”
He looked at perplexed. “Uhm… I don’t know.”
“Let’s see then!” A woman in blue suddenly said from the side. She strode up into the middle of the circle of spectators.
"Zoya, don't provoke him!“, another said, but the woman didn’t stop her stride.
"Zoya Nazyalensky," the trainer introduced the black haired woman. "I've been training her since she was ten."
"Care to find out?“, she said, voice confident and sharp. Every stride slow and deliberate. She looked at him and hatred glittered in her eyes. "If I win, will you burn my skin off too?", she said nonchalantly.
Robert pressed his lips together.
"Fighters ready?“, the trainer said, Robert shrugged. "And... fight!”
Robert raised his arms into position, clenching his hands into fists. Who would strike first? His opponent stood calmly in front of him, completely unimpressed. She didn’t move an inch.
“What a coward…” Whispers from the side in his direction.
Should Robert really strike? What was this about? He took a step forward, she immediately raised her arms in front of her chest, a humming sound in the air, a wave of her hand - a gust of wind knocked him off his feet, he hit his back, the air was squeezed out of his lungs, and then everything went black.
There was… snow. Snowflakes dancing behind his eyes. Branches above. No, those were antlers… fur… a stag turned its head, looking down at him. Warm breath condensing in the air.
„Robert!“
He jumped up with a start. Slowly Fedyor's concerned face came into focus.
Robert blinked. He had woken up again. He might not have been surprised, but, nevertheless, he was utterly disappointed.
“Are you okay?” Fedyor took his arm and pulled him to his feet. Robert touched something spiky, shoving himself out of the haystack. He stumbled a few steps forward.
“I can’t believe she did that…”, Fedyor muttered under his breath while supporting his arm.
"No idea why," Robert mumbled sarcastically.
Fedyor snorted, now somehow looking at him a bit… conspicuously. “She’s just jealous.” He brushed pieces of hay off of Robert’s Kefta. “Can’t bear the idea of anyone else being favored by General Kirigan.”
Robert snorted in turn. “Are you sure about that?”, he asked without taking it seriously. He was certainly not the favourite of anyone, least of all the general who he vividly remembered shouting at last evening. Robert pulled himself together again and stepped away from the pile of straw towards the training ground. "As far as I know the man hates me, and by god, that feeling's mutual."
"If you say so, black Kefta“, Fedyor said with an irritating half grin.
"What were you thinking?!" The angry voice of the trainer. He spoke sharply to Miss Nazyalensky. "Against the sun summoner?! Have you lost your mind? He's not the enemy any more than I am! Go!" He pushed her away, she stumbled a few steps across the square. She fixed at him with another angry look and disappeared towards the entrance. Robert and Fedyor watched her go.
"Let's go inside too, so I can properly check you for injuries." Fedyor had gently placed his hand on his arm and guided him towards the entrance. They went back in together. Except a dull thrumming in the back of his head he felt fine. There was a bench in the hallway, Robert sat down on it while Fedyor made a few hand movements in his direction. Apparently he could check Robert for injuries this way... he still didn't understand how it worked.
One thought kept bothering him. “What do the different colors of the keftas mean?“, he asked involuntarily.
"You're... new to everything Grisha, aren't you?" Fedyor asked with an apologetic smile.
Robert nodded. "Total beginner."
Fedyor laughed. "Well, there are three orders of Grisha, Corporalki, Etherealki and Materialki. Every order has their corresponding color."
"So it doesn't actually have something to do with the wearer's rank?"
Fedyor shook his head. "No, it’s about their Grisha powers. The Corporalki wear red, the Etherialki blue and the Materialki purple. The exact type of Grisha is represented by the color of the embroidery. For example, I am a Heartrender, I belong to the order of Corporalki and thus have a red Kefta with black embroidery."
"What is a Heartrender?"
"We can influence a person's organs." Fedyor smiled at him. "I can feel your pulse by looking into your eyes," He made several precise hand movements in front of Robert’s chest, "and that way I can check you for injuries."
"Why do I have no order?"
Fedyor startled for a moment. “Technically you are part of the order of the Etherialki, as they are able to manipulate the different natural elements of the world, light being one of them."
Robert had not expected that answer. He also belonged to an order? That would mean that his uniform should actually be blue... since it had nothing to do with military rank or his weird saint status… Robert knew full well that the General wore a black kefta… and he…
A slight laugh brought him back to the present. "Black is a special color. The shadow summoner is the only one who is permitted to wear it." He chuckled. "Well, him and you."
"I’ve only ever seen General Kirigan wearing a black Kefta…"
„He is the only shadow summoner, didn’t you know? You and him are the only Grisha of your respective kind."
"Oh."
For a moment Robert looked into the hallway, dumbstruck. What should he even say to that? The only ones of their kinds…
"I like your Kefta. He made a good choice." Fedyor smiled genuinely.
"Uh thanks...", Robert said, absentmindedly.
Robert was sitting at his desk. Fedyor had checked him for injuries and given him the all-clear, the procedure had had something supernatural, something magical about it. He had been lucky and had landed in the hay, a slight bruise on his head, nothing serious.
Fedyor had prescribed him a break and accompanied him back to his room. Robert would lie down for an hour and be picked up later.
But instead Robert had sat down at the desk and, without understanding why, reached for a pen and pulled out an empty notebook from one of the drawers. If it was in his drawer, why shouldn't he use it? He had started writing involuntarily. Not a letter, no, not a diary entry, not a note. He wrote... formulas. Everything that occurred to him, all the constants, Newton's axioms, his calculations on the death of a star, the notes on decay reactions... everything that occurred to him... everything except his notes on the Manhattan Project... he wrote down every formula and calculation that he could dig out from somewhere in the depths of the dusty drawers of his mind. The shelf life of his memories was limited, it flickered incessantly behind his lids. No matter how much he clung to it, he felt his brain protesting, inevitably blowing a thick fog through his head and whispering to him to forget everything, even though he was fine. Wasn’t repression a type of trauma response?
This country was not modern, the world had been thrown back to a time like the last century. No one had ever known an answer to any of his questions. Only he was left.
Robert didn't even know why he was writing down all these formulas. He had nothing here, no use for anything… but he clung to the only piece of his life that was still with him. Nothing left but his memories… and he would claw at his mind to keep them alive.
Robert wondered what level physics research was at in this world. Did they know, perhaps under a different name, Newton's axioms? Planck's constant? How advanced were mechanics, optics, thermodynamics nuclear physics? Robert remembered the hallway. The library. Why not?
He walked down the same corridor he had walked with Genya and reached the entrance to the library. A room opened up before him with shelves full of books up to the high ceiling. Old editions bound in leather, it was an impressive sight. Robert walked through the corridors. Soft light fell through the windows, it was a reverent moment as he walked between the shelves. Most of the books were leather bound and had no title on the spine, some had a small label. Robert approached a shelf at random and scanned the works. His gaze stopped on the first book with a label. He leaned forward. That was the title, obviously, but the characters were… strange. Neither the Latin, Greek nor Cyrillic alphabet. Sanskrit? No, not that. He shook his head involuntarily and continued to look around. The next book with a label was written in the same script. Perhaps this was a shelf with foreign works? He stepped back from this one and turned around, walking over to the left shelf in this corridor. He took out a book at random, the title was also written in the unknown script.
"You like books?“
Robert slammed the book shut and turned around. In front of him stood a man in a dark robe with golden emblem on the chest, his hands folded, head tilted to the side. Robert felt somehow caught.
"You are well-read, aren't you? Educated?"
Robert blinked. "I have a doctorate in physics."
„Doctorate?", the man said, pronouncing the word as if he didn't even know what it meant. "Well, that sounds lovely. I'm the king's spiritual advisor." The man took a step towards him. "I want us to be friends." Robert took a step back. "It is important that we are friends."
Sounded like his reputation preceded him. Although... this man must have been there during the disaster... he was obviously the apparat Genya had spoken about... had seen everything with his own eyes from the back row... who could blame him? Seeing someone acting so weird because they were scared of him… it was a chilling image. Make it stop.
"I have nothing against you, mister. It was... an accident. Honestly, I was just looking around. I'll leave."
"Oh, you're curious about the lore of the amplifiers, are you?" Suddenly the king's advisor went to the shelf where Robert had just been looking for books and reached for the very one Robert had just put back. "Well, let me curate some reading for you. Ah!" He reached for another book from the bottom shelf. With quick steps the apparat was at the table behind him and opened a larger book.
Robert came to his side. He squinted at the pages. He could make out that there was a picture of a man with a halo in the middle, but the script was a disaster. A handwriting that he couldn't decipher, were they the same letters as all the other books? It must be the standard script in this country. He wondered how he could even understand the language here. They spoke English, but the script…?
"Here, it all began with this man. One of the first Grisha in recorded history. The bonesmith. He knew the Grisha would always be persecuted and so he worked on a plan to magnify their power." The man had gone back to the cupboard while Robert was bending over the book and came back with a large red cover.
"I'm sorry, did you say he was called the bonesmith?"
"He made creatures from his own finger bones." The apparat demonstratively held his hands in front of Robert's face. "Mythical animals brimming with power. Attuned only to Grisha." He pointed to a picture in the second book. It showed a figure in the middle, surrounded by four circles. In one were the bones of a hand depicted. In the others a stag, a bird and an animal that looked somehow like a dinosaur. There it was... the stag... An image from his dream rushed past his inner eye. Strange.
"They learned killing one of these beasts and then melding a piece of it into their body would amplify their abilities. Sometimes the gain was minor, but with the right binding, the increase in power was astonishing." The apparat opened another page. In the middle was a picture of a person standing in a fighting position or maybe summoning pose? with their legs apart in the rain, hands raised, waves of water in the air around them.
This was just incomprehensible! "They kill the animals to take this power? How is it transferred?"
"Only the Grisha who takes that life can take that creatures power."
Robert looked down at the book again, trying to make out if the handwriting was actually in the same unreadable script.
"A Gift“, the apparat suddenly said from the side. He held out a book to Robert, red with gold print on the cover. "To mark our new friendship."
"What is this?"
"The lives of the saints."
Robert took the book. The same font. He opened it, at least this one was printed. Suddenly an idea. "Do you have something for me to write a quick note in?"
The advisor looked at him in surprise. "Of course, I'll get it for you. Very eager to learn, are we?“, he said with a chuckle that made a cold shiver run down Roberts spine. Maybe it wasn’t actually the fact that the man at first had seemed to be scared of him that made Robert feel so weirded out… it felt like he plotted something, his remarks at friendship utterly insincere… another one who wanted to use him for his own gains… The man opened a drawer at the next table and grabbed a stack of papers and a pencil, handing them both to Robert.
"Thank you. Could you... tell me the title again?“, Robert asked, wanting it to be over quickly.
The man looked at him a bit irritated. „The lives of the saints."
Robert leaned over the table, the book next to the note, careful to obscure what he was writing from the apparat. He wrote down the characters on the cover somewhat awkwardly, at least they were printed and not handwritten. Underneath he wrote the title in English... in the Latin alphabet. He opened the book and pushed it towards the apparat. "Could you read me the first sentence, please?" Robert asked casually. "This handwriting is hard to decipher, and I lost my reading glasses.“
Well, maybe not casually enough, because the man looked at him with huge eyes, irritated, and took a moment to answer. "Of course“, he said, as if Robert hadn’t just been perfectly able to witness some sort of shocking revelation happening inside his brain.
No point to dwell on it though. So Robert got ready to write down every word in Latin script. If it really was just a different alphabet, but still the same language, then he knew what to do. This was nothing compared to Sanskrit!
The apparat began to read. "Every day, children walked across the bridge on their way to school and back again on their way home, in two lines, side by side. They did not know that a demon had come to their town, and so they laughed and sang without worrying about attracting attention to themselves."
Robert wrote down every word, the apparat had read skillfully and slowly.
"You are not versed in our writing system, are you?“, he asked. Robert looked up, the man staring at his notes with interest. "I've never seen this script before. Where is it from?"
"It's... difficult to explain."
"I'd love to hear more about it, if you'd do me the favor. But I'm afraid you have other commitments now. Baghra awaits."
"Who?"
"Follow me, I'll show you.“
Robert left the library with the apparat, his notes carefully tucket into the book, clutching it to his chest. Outside, they walked towards the park. It was foggy and a haze hung over the paths.
"Where are you bringing me?"
"Every Grisha is trained by Baghra to harness their power. It is quite brutal."
Robert blinked and walked stubbornly along. What was going to happen now? Genya tending to his arms again and looking at him as if he were a thing to be pitied?
"Mostly the peasants hate the Grisha, but I think it is because the Grisha do not suffer." The apparat slowed down. "But... you have suffered, haven't you?“
Oh if he knew. Of all the people in the world, he had suffered the least.
"I think you will suffer more," the man said and looked at him with a meaningful look, whatever that meant, probably nothing good, nodding at him. He stretched out his arm, signaling Robert to go to the end of the path; the entrance to a cave, half covered by foliage.
Robert looked at the man once more, then walked off, leaving him and the two guards who had followed them during the whole ordeal behind. What was going to happen now? He had nothing left to lose. Clutching the book tightly to himself, he stepped into the darkness.
He saw a dimly lit rock wall in front of him, faint orange light streaming from somewhere around the corner. He stepped further into the cave; there were some pieces of furniture, some shelves, it looked like some kind of living room. Plants were growing on the walls, a crack in the ceiling let in a pale ray of sunlight in, other than that the cave was barely lit, only some candles flickering. He looked around; the room seemed empty.
"Hello?"
No answer. He went further in. A candle shimmered on a ledge, two chairs stood in the middle. His footsteps echoed through the grotto.
"Hello?" he turned back to the entrance; no one seemed to be here.
"You're very late."
Robert's heart stopped. He turned around. A woman stepped out of the shadows behind him. His heart was pounding in his throat. The woman, probably Baghra, took a step towards him. She seemed a little older, with long, light hair; he could barely make out the color of her clothes in the semi-darkness.
"Let's have a look at you."
He pressed the book to himself. Baghra walked slowly around him. Her gaze bored into his side. Robert turned around.
"A sun summoner who wastes his time training with Botkin?" A cold shiver ran down his spine. "Are you going to punch your way through the shadow fold?" Robert stared at her. Everyone just carried on as if nothing had happened, as if they had all ignored his words. Forgotten everything. "Where is the rest of you?" Robert stared at her perplexed. "Are you mute, boy?"
"Uh, no," he said. The urge to run was gnawing at the back of his consciousness like a rabbit caught in a snare.
“That’s something, I suppose.” Baghra turned away, walking over to take a seat in one of the chairs. Robert stood still, fighting his every instinct. She motioned for him to take the other seat. The rabbit was screaming. Carefully he sat down.
Baghra leaned forward. “Where are your parents?” she asked bluntly, her voice indifferent.
“Dead.”
“Any family?”
“Dead.”
“Where did you grow up?”
“New York.”
“Where is that?”
“Not in Ravka", he said.
“So you lived blissfully unaware and stayed where you didn’t belong.” She looked at him intently. “Where do you belong?”, she said, her voice harsh.
For a moment Robert stared at her. Why not tell the truth?
“In hell.”
“Such a guilty conscience, boy?” Baghra looked at him disdainfully. “You don’t belong here?”
He fixed her eyes, staring right through. “I just said I do.”
She snorted. “Don’t you have anything profound to say? Hiding behind cynicism?“ Robert looked at her perplexed. „Tell me. What are you?“
That question again. He stayed silent.
“I’ve asked you something.”
“I know what you want to hear.”
“You don’t know yourself?”, she practically spat out, “Do you need someone else to tell you first?”
“Well, a saint I suppose", he said sarcastically.
She snorted. “From what I’ve heard it would be better fit to call you a demon.”
“Here to insult me?”
“Here to waste my time?”, she replied promptly.
Robert scoffed. “I am very well aware that you are looking for me to admit that I am the sun summoner,” he said. “That’s what you want to hear, don’t you?”
“And yet you’re barely one, boy.” Baghra looked at him disdainfully. He was a goddamn forty-one year old, a grown independent man, but apparently no one here cared about that. “Can you summon the sun without the general clutching your wrist?” Robert sucked in a breath. “His blood and bones amplify other Grisha. Did you know that?“
The remnants of a tingling feeling in his arm. Robert stared at her. Blinking. This was ridiculous. “He won’t do that again.” Robert wouldn’t allow it.
“Oh?” Baghra co*cked up an eyebrow. “Suddenly so motivated?" A humourless chuckle, dying down at once. "Can you summon the power on your own?“, she asked sharply.
"No."
"What about now?"Faster than he knew what was happening, she hit him with her cane on his upper arm. Robert winced.
She stood up.
He stared at her.
"Everyone believes that you are the one. Come back when you believe it too.“
Robert got up slowly. His heart was pounding. His tone was bitter. "There will be no need for that." Without waiting for an answer, he walked past her towards the exit. "I have no interest in continuing this training."
"Yes you will, you cynical, insufferable - ugh!", said Baghra behind him.
Robert stepped out of the cave.
"Dramatics even worse than the other one’s!", he heard her as he left. "Saintsforsakened world", she spat, and with that Robert for once could agree.
“How was your time with Baghra?” Fedyor sat next to him at the dining room table, everyone else clearly having chosen a seat as far away as possible from the two of them. Well… away from Robert.
"... unproductive“, he answered.
They were sitting at a V-shaped table, many of the seats were empty. There were candlesticks and flower arrangements on display, opulent fruit bowls in between. It looked like something out of a painting.
Robert sat in front of his plate, without any appetite. A servant poured some drink into one of the too many glasses. A plate was placed in front of him, and when the lid was removed, the smell of grilled chicken hit him. It looked like a quail on vegetables. He was just about to spear a piece of asparagus with his fork, when suddenly a hand landed on the plate. Robert looked up. A man sat down right in front of him, he was wearing a white servant's uniform with a cap. He held a fork in his hand. Slowly he pulled the plate towards himself. Robert looked around for Fedyor to help.
“Looks like you have an Otkazat'sya taster”, the Heartrender remarked from the side. “They're normally reserved for the royal family.”
Robert looked at the man in front of him with wide eyes who actually put a piece of food in his mouth.
“Delicious”, the man said with a pained smile.
Robert stared at him.
“You’ll be happy with the meal.” He chuckled, “If, you know, I survive.”
Robert blinked. He literally did not know what to answer to that. From somewhere a salt shaker passed them as if on a conveyor belt, and he supposed this was as good of a moment as any to finally go insane.
“I think it’s safe”, the taster broke his train of thought with an uncomfortable chuckle.
“How did you… acquire this position?” Robert said the only thing that came to mind.
“This is a plum gig!“ He grinned. “I was so happy when the last taster died,” the man explained while he casually dove in for a second piece of asparagus. Upon realizing, he dropped it back on the plate with an uncomfortably forced smile, sliding it across the table towards Robert.
“Thank you”, he muttered. Finally the taster got up and left.
Robert looked down at the food; his appetite had long since disappeared.
"You should enjoy your meal, it's something special", Fedyor said upon seeing how Robert was aimlessly sticking his fork into a random piece. "General Kirigan insists that we eat peasant fare to keep us humble."
From the other side of the table came the sound of a chair being pushed away. Robert looked up. A man in a red kefta near the head of the table had stood up. Fedyor next to him scoffed. "... could have really sat with us...", he mumbled from the side. Robert thought that the man looked vaguely familiar... also from the carriage! That had to be Ivan, then. What was his last name again? Ivan had stood up and was holding a note in his hand. The room was instantly silent.
"News from the Fjerdan front", he announced and began to read the scroll. "In the first army many casualties in the 18th, 27th and 36th battalions. Also among the dead six healers, four inferni and three heartrenders.“ At the last part Ivan looked up from the paper and stared Robert directly in the eyes. „The Fjerdans will be no match against unified Ravka.“ He closed the scroll, murmurs breaking out. He fixed Robert with a look of… pure, silent rage. Robert blinked, heart rate picking up. "Why are you here eating figs? Hm?" Silence. "You should be training every waking moment to tear down the fold!" Robert held his gaze. "Say something! What kind of twisted game are you playing with us? Making us your pawns?" The room was silent.
"It was an accident…", Robert managed to say. His throat was tight.
"Tell that to the healers who fight day and night to keep your victims alive!" Ivan slammed the scroll on the table. "Do you enjoy it? Showing the world its only hope and then using it against them?" Pressure on Robert's chest. His heart was pounding wildly. "Imagine if you could save a whole world and you just don't. What kind of coward could do that?" He stared at him, Robert dug his nails into his palms. The faces of ghosts in his mind. "You don't say anything ? Well, maybe you're not really a coward, but you're after something else. Maybe you enjoy playing with your power. All the chaos. The suffering..." Robert's heartbeat was racing. Fedyor mumbled something from the side, but Robert didn't understand it. He was scrunching the edge of his Kefta under the table. His hands were shaking.
"There's blood sticking to your hands that can't be washed off", Ivan continued in an ominous tone. He pushed the chair aside and slowly walked around the table in the direction of Robert's seat. All eyes on him. Beads of sweat on Robert's forehead. "If you're going to refuse anyway, why don't you just disappear?" With a few steps around the table Ivan was in front of him, staring down at him. Robert gasped for air, but the oxygen was barely reaching his lungs. Fedyor next to him said something, but his voice was no longer getting through to Robert. He felt so sick that he was about to pass out at any moment now.
Ivan stared down at him. "Return to the shadow fold from which you came", he spat out. His voice was low, pointed, and sharp. "You are not human", he hissed. "You crawled out of the shadows and are bringing chaos and destruction to the world. When I look into your eyes, I see the blue light that is lit for the dead on their last journey." He stared down at him from above. "You should beg for forgiveness."
Now it was enough. Robert's chest tightened, a stabbing pain, he gasped for air. He jumped up, the chair thudded against the wall. He stumbled past Fedyor, out of the dining room door. The corridor was in front of him. He had to go outside, into the night, he needed air, his heart, his heart was at its limit, it was going to give out, he stumbled into the nearest room, he had run the whole way down the hall, no, just a few meters, the nearest room, he pressed himself against the door with momentum, it fell against the wall with a loud bang, he stumbled into the room, he felt the pounding of his heart right up to his head. It would soon be over, soon be over - Robert's legs were no longer holding him, a stabbing pain in his chest, a burning sensation in his head, no air, it would soon be over -
He was so dizzy that he leaned against the wall. He stumbled, gasping for air. Everything was spinning. That had to be it. Robert's legs gave way, he sank down against the wall and crouched blindly on the floor. He crouched against the wall, making himself small. He pulled his legs up, his arms pressed to himself. He gasped, trying to somehow get some oxygen into his system, the pounding in his chest robbed him of his breath. His face felt hot, his lungs burned.
He only vaguely registered the echoing sound of a door slamming in the hallway. Quick steps approached his general direction. Someone entered the room.
"What happened? Are you injured?" A familiar voice, upset.
Robert did not look up. Instead, he pressed his arms even tighter around himself. The pain in his chest was ripping his lungs apart. General Kirigan crouched down in front of him.
Suddenly a touch on his shoulder - he flinched.
The general immediately pulled his hand back. "Sorry, sorry - I'm sorry..." His voice was pained. Robert barely heart it over the white noise in his head. He couldn't breathe. Getting dizzy.
"Can you tell me what's wrong?" The general kneeled next to him now, he vaguely registered the movement. Robert couldn't answer. His heart was about to give up, the pain stabbing his chest.
“Please, tell me how I can help you…"
Robert tried to find his way to the voice, but he heard it as if it were underwater, a rumbling in his ears, sweat on his forehead.
"Can you hear me?“ It felt as if the noise turned into screams, he saw the pressure wave of glaring light racing towards him -
"Where are you? Please, Robert, come back to me…"
At the sound of his name he slowly looked up. He could only see the man's face, blurred. His heart wouldn't be beating much longer, it would soon be over. Robert’s lungs tried desperately to get some air but he couldn't let go, couldn't -
"Please, you need to breathe. Don't constrict your chest like this." Robert barely registered that he clutched his chest, the pain striking. Heart attack. Going to die. In a strange place, far from home. Home was no more.
"Robert!" At that he blinked, trying to regain focus on the general.
"Breathe, do you hear me? In … and out!" The voice was scared, panicked, Robert tried to gather his focus, but his mind was swept away again. The burns, the ashes. Killed them. Killed them all. Made them suffer.
"May I try something? Let me try something..." The general’s hand was hovering over his arms. "I'm going to touch your hand now, okay? Nothing will happen to you... I'm trying to help."
Robert pressed his eyes closed. He could barely nod.
"Okay. I'll move your hand now." Robert felt his arm being moved away from his torso, a warm hand opening his ice-cold fingers, pressed them against a warm surface. Robert opened his eyes, followed his arm with his gaze.
"Now feel my breath. Try to do it with me." A warm hand was placed over his left hand, pressing it against the upper part of the general's stomach. He could feel the man's chest rising and falling with each breath.
"Focus on me."
Robert tried to do that. Ground himself in the feeling. He tried to manage his stuttering breath. In and out. The tingling feeling in the back of his throat. The stabs in his chest. He tried to press his other arm around himself even tighter. With his free hand the general brushed over Roberts other hand. “Please stop, don’t… don’t constrict your lungs like this…” Robert’s fingers were pried open, away from his chest. Now his right hand was also in the general's, his arm outstretched. The man's fingers were warm. “Focus on the rhythm", he said, still keeping Robert’s other hand pressed to his chest.
Robert’s breathing was no longer so irregular, but still much too fast, faster than the general's. He tried to regulate it, but he couldn't get in enough air, so he stayed in this too fast rhythm. At least it was a rhythm now.
For a while they just breathed together, Robert tried to calm himself and focus on the way the general's chest rose and fell under his palm.
“You are doing so well”, General Kirigan said in a soothing tone.
After a while the pain in Roberts chest dulled. The white spots in his vision gave way for the blurry image of the room, the dark figure of the General close to him. Robert’s panting was unnaturally loud in the quiet room. It was very silent.
“I am sorry”, the general whispered after a while, “I hurt you… I am so sorry.”
Robert listened to his voice. Breathe in and out. In and out. Not going to die here. He felt the air entering his chest, tried to breathe deeper, less shallow. The nausea was slowly subsiding. His heartbeat calmed down a bit.
General Kirigan looked at him intently, black eyes painted in a look of… concern. “How do you feel?”, he asked in a gentle tone.
Robert felt the tingling feeling building in the back of his throat. He looked away, down. The tingling rose in his neck, up to his cheeks, behind his eyes.
The general held his hand a bit tighter. “Hey, it’s alright, you’re safe. You’re safe, I promise.” His words were soothing.
Robert blinked away the tears. “Sorry,” he mumbled in a choked voice.
“Don’t apologize. You had a panic attack. It’s not your fault.“ Robert felt his thumb absentmindedly running over the back of his hand. “Don’t apologize for that. Are you injured somewhere?“
Robert shook his head.
“Good“, General Kirigan hummed quietly, gently running his thumb over Robert’s hand. „You… really scared me there for a moment.“ His tone was… genuine. Not even a hint of anger.
Robert tried to regain some orientation. He was sitting on the floor, the General kneeling next to him, pressing Roberts hand to his chest, holding his other one as well.
"Can you stand up?“, he asked, his voice calm and slow. "Squatting on the ground like that constricts your lungs."
Robert blinked, looked up into his face, black eyes painted in a look of... concern. That's what it was. And… genuine. Robert did not answer but instead slowly tried to get up. The general got up before him, taking the hand away from his chest but still not letting go, trying to steady Robert.
When he was up, the world was turning around him, he felt dizzy, his legs giving out.
"Careful!" The general clutched his shoulders, keeping him from falling. "I should get you a chair..." He guided Robert to lean on the wall and frantically went around the room in search.
Robert watched the back of the black Kefta swirling through the room. He felt cold creeping up through his bones. Alone. The pain in his chest sharpened its dull edge again, returning with a sharp stab to his heart. He breathed in shakily, trying to steady himself, but everything was just too much, he hugged himself, seeking some pressure, trying to make it go away, make himself small, there was a distressed noise, he flinched, did he make that? Suddenly the General was back right in front of him, the look in his eyes panicked, Robert clutched his chest -
"Stop, stop, you need to breathe, please“, General Kirigan said, his shaky hand hovering over Roberts shoulder, "Don't crush your chest like this!" His hand was barely grazing the fabric of his Kefta. "What do you need? Are you scared?“ Robert couldn’t answer. „Would it help to feel some pressure on your chest?" Robert didn’t react. "Uhm… I could… if you want… maybe…" The general was standing in front of Robert, holding his arms out. “You want to…?”
Robert breathed out and without realising why took a shaky step forward, closing the space between them. Carefully a hand touched his arm, gently guiding it around the man's waist. Robert's left hand was placed on the general's back, then his right hand was pried from his death grip around his own chest as well and moved around General Kirigan's waist from the other side.
"There you go", the general murmured.
Even through the fabric Robert could feel an incredible warmth radiating from the man. He felt how the general lay his hands around Robert, barely touching his shoulders, careful to keep it light. “Is this… acceptable?“, General Kirigan asked, merely a whisper.
Robert felt the warmth and instinctively pressed into it. The general froze, hands grazing Roberts Kefta. Then at once he put his arms around Robert's shoulders, pulled him closer, he held onto him and suddenly Robert found himself pressed to the general tightly. He grabbed the thick fabric of his Kefta on his back. The pressure was grounding him. His heart hammered against his ribs.
"There is nothing to be scared off…“, the general whispered, gently stroking Roberts back. "You're safe here. I promise.“
When he felt a tingling feeling rising in the back of his throat, Robert hid his face in the man’s shoulder.
The General was slowly rubbing his back. “I’ve got you, don’t worry.” His voice was soothing, wiping the horrifying noises away, just out of reach. "Breathe for me, okay?" One of his hands left his back to stroke through his hair. It was an… oddly comforting touch. "I will keep you safe." Robert was clenching some fabric, barely listening. "You have my word."
Roberts heartbeat was slowly starting to calm down a bit. For a long while he focused on getting his breathing back to an acceptable pace, trying to keep his heart from tearing his chest from the inside. It was… warm.
General Kigiran kept stroking his back. "I'm so sorry...", he said while continuing to hold him tightly. "…for everything." Robert focused on his breathing, feeling the voice of General Kirigan resonating through the man’s chest. "It was wrong of me to force you to present your powers when you told me you didn't agree to it." The hold tightened a bit. "And I shouldn’t have doubted your word. Doubted you.“ His voice was firm. “It will never happen again.”
Roberts pulse was calming down a bit. General Kirigan gently squeezed him a tiny bit tighter, still rubbing his back gently. „You’re doing so well“, he continued murmuring reassuring words. Robert blinked his tears away. When had he started to cry? Out of nowhere he suddenly hiccuped.
General Kirigan chuckled quietly, Robert could feel the rumbling of his low chuckle through his chest. „That’s better, isn’t it?“
Roberts erratic breathing was currently slowed down back into a steady rhythm. He felt the grounding touch of a hand stroking his back, another softly touching his hair.Wait -
Huh?
Oh god.
He blinked.Slowly the awkwardness of the situation dawned on him. He was actually snuggling into the generals chest. Roberts face was heating up at the realisation of their position.
„I’m, uhm, I’m sorry-" Robert immediately let go of the man and practically jumped up. His heartbeat was up in seconds. By now his face was completely hot. He stared at the general who was looking at him kind of puzzled.
Robert shifted from one foot to the other. "My behaviour was unacceptable, I’ll leave immediately, I’m sorry!“ He turned to run.
„Wait -“ suddenly a hand was reaching for his wrist. Robert stopped. He looked down. The general was holding his wrist in his hand. This time, Robert… waited. He looked up at General Kirigan.
„I just…“ The general upon realising what he was doing stopped the hold on his wrist and instead slid down his hand to lightly take Robert's hand.
Robert made no move to leave, instead taking a step back away from the door again. He looked down a bit puzzled. The general was holding his hand, palm up, with his thumb gently grazing over the scars.
„Im sorry. I’m sorry I forced you…“, he mumbled, completely lost in looking at Roberts hand.
For a moment they stayed right there. It was… strange. Robert just… stood there. Didn’t feel the urge to move away. Robert looked down on his hand, consciously let go, bringing it back down to his side. He scratched his neck. "I’m sorry for my behavior. I shouldn’t have…"
"No, no, it’s okay." The General took a step closer. "You are having a hard time, I can see that now. Im sorry that it took me so long to realise it."
Robert felt his dark eyes on him, he felt the need to look away.
General Kirigan sighed. „You look exhausted.“
„Didn’t have the best day…“
„Can you tell me what happened? Did anyone bother you?“
Robert looked back. „It was expected though, wasn’t it?“ A bitter chuckle.
The general looked right into his eyes. The black was shiny like the broken edge of a piece of raw obsidian. „You don’t deserve that. I want you to feel safe here.“ The words made his voice a bit sharper. „I will make sure that the people who did this to you will face consequences.“ There was a look of… something fierce in his eyes.
Robert again looked somewhere off to the side. He didn’t know why but it was uncomfortable to look the general in the eyes. He wrung his hands. He should probably just leave. „What you said before, the apology…" god, why did he say that ?! - "Did you mean it?“
„Every word."
Robert looked up. For a moment their eyes met.
„I have not changed my mind", Robert said.
„I thought so.“ The general nodded, looking off to the side in thought. „I just…“ a sigh. He looked back to Robert. „No more of that. You are safe. That’s everything that matters right now.“
There was something tightening in his chest.
„Thank you, then. I… I accept your apology.“
„I’m glad."
„Also…“, Robert began, now starting to pace back and forth a step, „Thank you for… being there for me… through this mess…" An uncomfortable chuckle.
„I always will be“, General Kirigan said softly.
"I… I think I’ll go to bed now. It was a long day." He took a step backwards in the vague direction of the door.
"Good Night, Mister Oppenheimer."
Robert looked at the general for a moment. Had he only imagined him calling him by his first name?
"Goodnight", he said and left.
