After what felt like hours of washing up, Riven stepped out of the steam of the shower. The scorching water had finally scrubbed away the layers of grime, the metallic tang of blood, and that clinging, hollow smell of the void. He stood in the middle of the room, drying his long hair with a towel, when he heard it—a soft, shaky sniffle from the corner of the room.
He stopped, the towel draped over his head, his heart sinking into his stomach. "I... are you crying?" he asked, his voice barely a whisper.
Vaelorian jumped, his hands moving in a frantic blur to wipe his face. He turned away immediately, his voice thick and strained. "No! I... I didn't mean to space out like that. Just give me a second, I'll get you something to wear. The styles have... they've changed a bit."
Riven didn't move. He leaned his bare back against the cool stone wall, watching his husband. He traced the line of Vaelorian's shoulders with him eyes—the way they were pulled high and tight, as if he were physically bracing for the ceiling to collapse.
"How long has he been standing like that?" Riven wondered, a pang of guilt sharper than any blade piercing his chest. "How many years has he been holding his breath?"
"Is this the part where you tell me you're 'fine'?" Riven asked, his voice steady and gentle. "Because you're literally shaking, Vaelorian. Stop moving around and look at me."
Vaelorian didn't stop. He retreated into the walk-in closet, his hands mindlessly tossing perfectly folded tunics and trousers aside, muttering half-sentences and gibberish under his breath. He was a whirlwind of frantic, nervous energy.
Riven sighed, running a hand through his damp hair. "Babe. Talk to me, please. Yell at me. Blame me for leaving. Yell and punch the pillows, I don't care. Just do something! I'm not going to think you're weak for showing emotions. You're human, and frankly, after everything I've heard, you're long overdue for a good crash-out if you ask me."
"I'm sorry! I shouldn't..." Vaelorian finally stopped his assault on the wardrobe. He stood among a pile of scattered silk, his voice breaking in the middle of the apology.
"Hey! No, don't do that. Don't apologize, please." Riven interrupted. "You're allowed to feel this way. You're supposed to. This whole thing feels like one long, terrible nightmare to me, but you? You've been awake for nearly seven years. That's not nothing. That's a lifetime of pain."
Riven studied his husband's silhouette. It hadn't escaped him that Vaelorian hadn't touched him—not once—since he'd appeared on the nursery floor. It was as if Vaelorian were convinced Riven was a hologram made of smoke, a cruel trick of the mind that would shatter if he dared to reach out.
"You want a hug?" Riven said, a small, playful smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "Or should I pretend I didn't notice the fact that you haven't touched me since I woke up? I mean, I can just awkwardly hang around here until you're ready to give in. I'm fine with whatever you decide."
Despite the crushing weight of the moment, Vaelorian let out a short, shaky laugh. The sound caught in his throat, turning into a sob as fresh tears blurred his vision.
"There he is," Vaelorian thought, his chest aching. "Only Riven could crack a joke while the world is falling apart." That was the proof. That was the reality. No phantom could mimic that specific, irritatingly charming brand of humor.
"If it's hard for you, I'm going to come to you, okay?" Riven said. He took one small step forward, but Vaelorian's silver eyes widened, flashing with a momentary, visceral panic. Riven stopped dead. "It's okay if you're not ready. I will wait."
Riven started to step back, but for Vaelorian, seeing that gap widen—even by an inch—was the final straw. The dam broke. Vaelorian launched himself forward, a blur of desperation. He crashed into Riven's chest, his arms locking around his husband's neck with a strength that rivaled their son's. He clung to him as if he were trying to fuse their heartbeats together.
"Hey! Don't be scared, okay? I'm not leaving again. Ever again," Riven whispered. He pulled Vaelorian flush against him, his thumbs drawing gentle, soothing lines over his husband's trembling shoulders.
Vaelorian finally let go of the "Emperor" persona. He sobbed into Riven's chest, his entire body heaving as seven years of stored-up pain, hollow loneliness, and paralyzing fear poured out of him. Riven held him through the storm, his own eyes stinging.
As he held him, Riven finally understood the true cost of his absence. To Riven, it was a bad dream. But Vaelorian was the one who had to wake up every single morning to the cold side of the bed. Vaelorian was the one who had to look into the eyes of two growing children and see the ghost of a man he feared was gone forever.
"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, babe," Riven soothed, leaning down to press a firm kiss to the top of Vaelorian's head. "I didn't keep my promise."
"I... I thought you..." Vaelorian gasped between heaving breaths. "I thought I would never see you again. You were just gone. I couldn't feel you. I searched everywhere, Riven. I burned through every resource, every spell, every prayer. There was just... nothing."
"I know. I'm sorry. I'm here now," Riven whispered, tightening his grip until there was no air left between them. "I'm not going anywhere. I'm okay. Look at me, I'm okay." He gently tilted Vaelorian's face up, forcing those raw, red-rimmed eyes to meet his.
"What if it happens again?" Vaelorian asked, his voice small and fragile. "I still don't know who or what took you. We don't know who the enemy is. How do I fight what I don't even know?"
Riven wiped a stray tear from Vaelorian's cheek, a confident, wolfish grin flickering across his face. "I'd like to see them try. They might've taken me by surprise the first time, but it won't happen again. We have two incredibly powerful kids now—kids that would probably burn the whole world down if anything happened to their Papa again."
Riven cradled Vaelorian's face in his hands, his expression turning solemn. "Let it all out. You've been through hell. Let it process. Take it slow. I'm right here. It's okay to fall, I'll catch you."
Vaelorian looked at him in awe. Riven was the one who had been stolen, the one who should be falling apart—and yet, he was standing there like a fortress. In seven years, Vaelorian had become a dependable emperor, but in one night, Riven had become his Knight once more.