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Gavin stood close, too close for comfort as his thudding, traitorous heart picked up speed. Towering over Alistair like the hero come to slay the villain - no, a dragon come to devour him, soul and all. That blond hair, those green eyes, the tear tracks trailing down his cheeks; Alistair refused to die to this.
Nothing mattered except for Hendry. His brother would live, and - and if Alistair didn’t, then wasn’t that what he’d expected? Alistair had dreamed of his own death so many times before, the thought of it now was almost comforting. But everything was wrong, wrong, wrong - Grieve standing opposite him, both of them circling like the enemies they’d always been. He had been such a fool.
Maybe Hendry had dreamed of death too, so long ago, before this fucking tournament had started, before their family had murdered murdered murdered him in his own bed, before Alistair’s heart had broken again and again. In the end, he should have known that the only love he deserved was the only one he could return.
Hendry would live and see the sun again, and Alistair would die facedown in the dirt, an open grave for the crows to pick through.
Gavin spoke, again and again, telling him things he didn’t want to hear, didn’t need to hear, kept moving closer and closer, as if he, as if he wasn’t afraid at all. But that was wrong too. He should be afraid, looking right into the eyes of a monster baring its fangs.
Grieve had never known him after all.
“Even if you cured the Reaper’s Embrace, the curse is unraveling, and it’s going to take Hendry with it.” Gavin spoke, his voice firm but somehow so unshaking, that Alistair felt something inside of him break once more.
Suddenly, the air went out and all the shadows washed over him; their chance had come to drag him back to the underworld where he’d always belonged. He coughed, once, twice, and then clutched his hands over his chest, heaving for a breath that wouldn’t come. Dizzily, he tried to keep his eyes open, to keep them trained on the enemy in front of him - what are you doing, boy, are you really that worthless? - but all he could hear over his thundering heartbeat was his mother’s voice, telling him, “You are a monster, you should be better than this.”
He tried to claw her away, but her voice stayed loud inside of his head as he rattled out pathetic gasp after gasp, as if taunting him that the Lowes would truly never be through with him. Would always have a permanent place carved into the places where it hurt the worst.
A monster, he’s a monster, he should be stronger than this. He couldn’t break here, after everything he’d been through, everything he’d done -
As if someone had cast a knockout spell, he opened his eyes to see everything looking hazy and weird, like some wretched watercolor painting left out to dry and ruined. He realized sluggishly that the only thing he could hear was a vague muffled sound, repeating again and again, over and over above his head. His heart was still trying to beat out of his chest, and he was still angry, scared, and a fucking mess.
What had happened to him? Even through his exhaustion, he could muster up enough anger to cover all the fear flowing through him. But it wasn’t enough for his body to obey his instructions; no matter how much he tried to lift his head, to look around and see, it was like he was lagging behind the world.
Something ran over his head slowly, soothingly, and a voice that felt familiar rumbled through his body like a dragon’s roar. But it was quiet, so quiet that he had to strain his ears to hear what it was saying.
“...Al, you’re alright, I’ve got you, Al, that’s right, just breathe. One, two…” And it continued counting, and rather belatedly, he realized his chest was following that pattern it’d counted out.
Hendry? He thought hopefully, or maybe he’d said it, because then he felt arms around him, squeezing tight like they’d never let him go, and he felt some more of himself come back when he felt that warmth, that weight.
“He’ll be back soon, don’t worry, you’ll be alright. You’ll be alright.” Gavin’s voice washed over his body like a fire, warming him all over. His fingers and toes wiggled slightly, tingling. And as he moved his head to look up, and he found himself safely cocooned inside of the other boy’s arms, he felt his eyes wanting to close again.
Here he was, sitting on the lap of what should have been his enemy come to kill him, come to kill his brother, a liar who’d only used him, who’d broken his heart (just like Isobel). He’s supposed to be stronger than this, to fall for this a second, third, fourth - how many times had Gavin Grieve made him falter?
“Gav?” he whispered shakily between them, their eyes never leaving each other’s. In response, Gavin only crushed him even harder against him, a hand wrapped around his waist and another coming up to cradle his cheek.
Gavin's breathing stuttered, and the smile he attempted was faltering and weak, but as tears rose in his green, green eyes, it was real.
“Al,” he breathed out, as if to say it too loud might shatter them both. And it was then that Alistair felt his heart break all over again, another time in what was too many to count.
“Is this real?” He asked, looking back down to the ground, the muscled arms encircling him, the blond hair he’d always been drawn to, those green eyes he didn’t want to meet anymore, the Blood Veil still drawing a curtain over the sky.
Gavin laughed wetly. “If it wasn’t, I think we’d have an entirely different problem to be dealing with.”
Alistair clutched at Gavin’s shoulders and held on even as he tried to put back that mask of cruelty, of stoicness, of all the awful parts of monsters his family had grafted into him like the world’s worst chimera. “I’m sorry.” But here he was, as vulnerable as he’d always been, still that too soft boy just as scared of those awful stories as he’d been in awe of them.
“I’m sorry too,” Gavin told him, wiping the tears he hadn’t realized he’d been crying away from his eyes. That tender touch almost felt like too much. Truthfully, Alistair had long lost track of what exactly he deserved or even wanted. These days, his heart was too painful to bear.
But Alistair was used to pain. So he bit his lip even as he tried to be like ice, to harden his skin, to sharpen his claws, and he asked him, “Do you really want to kill Hendry?” It was a small mercy that his voice didn’t come out shaking.
He braced himself for the break, for the betrayal to come back, for Gavin’s arms to feel like a prison rather than safety.
Gavin cupped both of his cheeks and said so earnestly, so firmly, that Alistair’s heart instantly believed him, despite his head’s protests. “Of course I don’t!”
Warmth washed over him again, a dragon’s fire for once not hurting as it burned him. But he couldn’t trust this, could he? This, all of this, all of it could be some trap, the Mirror couldn’t lie after all, what if -
But before he could even open his mouth, Gavin exhaled and fixed a glare on him, whispering confidently, “I want you to live. Al, you’re going to live.” It was as if the other boy were convincing himself instead of Alistair, and he felt a hysterical giggle rise up his throat for a moment before he managed to swallow it back down.
This, too? How could any of this be real? What were the two of them even doing? What even were they…?
“Not without my brother,” Alistair heard himself rasp out, before tears started silently trailing down his face again, but this time, he felt it. He felt every awful thing.
Everything was too much. He wanted to live. He wanted to die. He wanted his brother to live. He wanted this tournament to be over already. Most of all, he wished his heart would stop tricking him into wanting things that weren’t meant for him.
Gavin reared back, looking so furious that Alistair nearly wondered if he were going to curse him after all, before in the next moment, Gavin took his face in his hands and then leaned in.
Alistair Lowe’s second kiss was different from his first. But if one thing were the same, it was the sheer shock running through him as it happened, the feeling of lips on his something he never expected.
He hadn’t let himself want this. He’d told himself he was imagining things, that a rivalry was all that stood between the two of them, that his foolish heart was wrong -
And yet, none of it, nothing could have stopped him from kissing Gavin Grieve back, just as furious. How dare this boy make him feel this way? How dare he hold him like this, how dare he make him hope?
He wanted to snarl and rage and claw Gavin Grieve’s handsome fucking face off for daring to make him care.
The kiss they shared was hot and dangerous and intense, enough to make you melt. Alistair could feel every single beat of his heart, out of control and wanting more, more, more. Gavin Grieve gave him more.
Gavin Grieve ran his hands through Alistair’s hair and gave him so much that he didn’t think he’d ever have enough, now.
Panting, they slid apart and blew the hot smoke of their breaths against each other’s faces, flushed red all over.
“I should kill you,” he grit out, his stupid, traitorous heart jumping up and down. Gavin smiled.
“That’s nothing new.”
Alistair dug his nails into the other boy’s shoulders and internally cursed when Gavin didn’t even wince. Damn him.
“Are you still daydreaming about my death?”
Gavin had the nerve to laugh right in his face, soft puffs of air hitting him and making his eyelashes tremble. “Not anymore. Now, I dream about different things.”
Alistair huffed and glared but his intimidation was for naught. Gavin Grieve was unbreakable, a warm wall that held him up and held him, for better or worse. Of course his heart made him want a person such as this. Of course.
“What?” he snapped, still angry.
Gavin grinned and the sight of it was absolutely abhorrent. Alistair wanted a different nightmare, right now.
“I dream of you,” he answered, so simply, as if the sound of it wasn’t breaking his heart all over again. How could Gavin Grieve be so honest? How could he endure it?
His heart was scarred and broken and ugly, a core of a monster that nobody had ever coveted. But the look in Gavin’s green eyes told him that there was another truth: this boy really wanted him to live. He was desperate for it.
Alistair knew all too well just what Gavin Grieve was capable of, determined and desperate. Tears welled up, but he refused to shed them.
In that moment, perhaps Alistair Lowe was the most honest he’d ever let himself be.
“I don’t know what to do.” It was shaky and vulnerable and miserable, and it hurt to get out, as if Alistair’s entire throat was welling up and bleeding. Thousands of pricks from a thorn he hadn’t meant to keep.
Gavin gathered him up in his arms and hugged him, saying, “I don’t know, either.”
Alistair laughed, because what else could he do? He certainly couldn’t kill Gavin Grieve now. He didn’t think he ever could, after this. Even if everything really was a lie, even if Alistair ended up alone, even if he was betrayed again, his heart was still foolish. Still hoping for a happy ending.
“Since when have you wanted to kiss me?” he blurted it out randomly, and almost wanted to take it back, because what even were they? He didn’t know if he wanted the answer.
“Since the moment I saw you.”
“Now I know this isn’t real.”
A strong hand gripped his back, just below his neck, and he shivered. He felt so safe here in Gavin’s arms he could almost fall asleep. He couldn’t believe that the dragon had stolen a prince, after all.
They sat there on the ground holding each other for what could have minutes or hours. Honestly, Alistair didn’t care either way. For once, since this tournament had started, he felt bizarrely normal. He was just a boy wrapped up in the arms of a boy, the both of them trying to make sense of anything.
“We’re going to live,” Gavin eventually spoke into the silence settled around their bodies, blunt and honest and so damn sure of himself in that way of his that had always made Alistair take a second glance back what felt like years ago.
The Alistair who had dreamed of his death probably hadn’t pictured it would be like this, held by his former enemy and wanting, hoping, wishing -
“We are?” Alistair’s voice was hushed and scared, and he wrapped both of his arms around Gavin’s neck. His heart was foolish and stupid and afraid. It did what it always did.
Gavin slowly leaned in and kissed him again, chaste and sweet and so sincere it nearly made his teeth ache. When they broke apart again, Gavin smirked at him, a glimpse of that old rival who’d driven him mad. Oh, if only that boy at the beginning could see him now.
“Yeah,” Gavin answered him, breathing it out as if it were a dare, a challenge for him alone, and Alistair nearly shuddered as it lit him up from the inside. Just a whisper, a mere look, and Alistair was burning alive.
“I should kill you,” he said, and Gavin laughed in delight.
“This is becoming familiar.”
Alistair cupped Gavin’s cheeks in his hands and sat up slightly in the other boy’s lap until their lips were bare inches away. “There’s something wrong with you,” he whispered in equal parts irritation and exasperation and something else that made his heart throb.
They kissed and kissed and kissed until they both had to come up for air again. Foreheads leaning against each other, they breathed together there.
Gavin snorted, shooting him a look. “And there’s nothing wrong with you? Seems like we make quite the pair.”
Alistair glared.
Gavin raised an eyebrow.
Alistair huffed and looked away. A few seconds later, Gavin was laughing softly, as if surprised. He turned back to look at the other boy and huffed again, if only to express his utmost displeasure.
“I’m horrible, alright?” he grit out, just daring the other boy to comment. Gavin only raised a hand to cover his face as he laughed harder.
“Yes, just a little wicked, I know.” Gavin peeked over at him with a smirk and those green eyes of his mocking him. Alistair fingered one of his spellstones consideringly.
“I really should kill you already.”
But the both of them were somehow still smiling, even after how this confrontation had first started. Gavin was still holding him, was still comforting him even after Alistair had planned to kill him. Even after Gavin had planned to kill him. After everything between them.
Gavin Grieve had looked Alistair’s weakness right in the eyes and wanted him anyway. His heart prayed for this to be real, for this not to be a dream or a nightmare but reality instead. Please, let him have this. Let him have this one promise, unbroken: “We’re going to live.”
He still didn’t understand anything. He was still a mess, still broken and angry and scared and tired of it all. He still wanted to live and die at the same time.
For the first time, he admitted to himself that he wanted Gavin to live too.
Nothing was fixed; he and Gavin were still cursed, and Hendry…
But Alistair wanted to believe in something good for once, instead of clinging to tragedies. He wanted to be something more than the monster the Lowes had made him. He wanted to be that boy who was clumsy and awkward and soft, again. Maybe he had always been him; he didn’t know.
He wanted the time to find out.
“Al!” A voice rang out suddenly from the side of them, and as he and Gavin tried to shoot up only to fall back into each other, still entangled, Hendry was there walking over to them before suddenly stopping, eyes wide as he saw them.
He and Gavin looked at each other at the same time, both panicking, and the both of them would swear that an entire conversation passed between them at that moment.
Alistair turned to face his brother. He cleared his throat, hating that he could feel the heat over his cheeks. “Hendry, did you need something?” His voice fucking cracked.
He could feel the vibrations of Gavin’s silent laughter at his back and silently vowed bloody revenge.
Hendry shot the both of them a dry look. “I wanted to talk to you about something, Al, but I can see that the two of you are busy.”
He hit Gavin in the chest blindly, and then yelped as the blond boy just scooped him up in his arms before setting him standing. He looked up at Gavin when he was out of his arms and hissed. “You’re dead before tomorrow.”
Grieve leaned down and smirked at him, whispering in his ear, “You can try.” His heart skipped a beat, and his face flushed even redder, probably causing him to look even more ridiculous. Of course.
Gavin looked supremely smug when he straightened up again, only for the sound of Hendry laughing to cause them both to look over with shock.
“You two really do deserve each other, Al, hahaha…” His brother shot him a grin and Alistair felt embarrassment rise in his chest.
“Shut up,” he said, but of course Hendry didn’t.
Even through all of his brother’s teasing, Alistair felt the weight of Gavin beside him, their arms brushing until eventually, he mustered up the courage to reach for the other boy’s hand.
Gavin intertwined their fingers together and Alistair felt like he could finally breathe again. Here with his brother, with Gavin, even if nothing was actually alright, even if they were all still slowly dying, his heart wanted to hope for more.
Maybe both he and Gavin were dragons. Maybe they were stronger together than apart. Maybe they would find a way for the three of them to live, together.
It hurt to want it, to hope for it so badly like he was beginning to. He didn’t deserve a happy ending. That wasn’t how his story was supposed to go.
He squeezed Gavin’s hand in his. Gavin squeezed back, and the hand holding his felt like the truth. Felt right.
Alistair would just have to try, and see where his heart took him.
(Later, when his brother was gone, and he and Gavin were wrapped up in each other, laying together under a blanket, resolved to end this tournament once and for all, to live -
Alistair Lowe and Gavin Grieve would look at each other and be glad they’d never been able to kill each other, no matter how much they’d tried.
They’d kiss and live and love, and there would eventually be a happy ending, despite everything.
Despite everything, they had each other.)