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fan_flashworks2021-03-18 02:17 pm
pantswarrior) wrote in fan_flashworks2021-03-18 02:17 pm
Entry tags:
Vagrant Story: Fanfic: A Pillow of Winds
Title: A Pillow of Winds
Fandom: Vagrant Story
Rating: PG
Length: 3100ish words
Content notes: None
Author notes: Veered off into different themes than the prompt, and got much longer than expected, but there is still a lot of holding going on. Hope that's still okay...?
References back to scenes in the first story in the series I've been writing about Sydney and Hardin pre-canon... for twenty years... since this is still set in their early days. Probably will become the new #4 story when I can upload.
And while we're at it, whytf does Pink Floyd go so well with these two? Title shamelessly borrowed yet again.
Summary: Revelations come in the night, and also in the morning.
-----
Even if everything in their lives was so wrong in nearly every other way, one thing that Hardin believed to be right was the nights he spent lying beside Sydney.
He had to admit, pleasant as they were, that even these nights were not as right as they could have been. If he were not so overly self-conscious, a part of him still clinging to old prejudices and widely-held beliefs from a world he'd chosen to turn his back on, he might have been less reluctant to make up their blankets together amidst the other brethren of Müllenkamp. Surely no one else among their number would have found it remarkable that he was spending the night at Sydney's side - it was only his own insecurities that caused him to refrain. And if not for those same insecurities, when they unrolled their bedding further from the others such as they had upon this night, he might have... done more than only spend the night lying beside Sydney.
That had not been how the evening had unfolded, and so once again Hardin merely lay with Sydney at his side, silently mulling over his cowardice. It was not as if Sydney had pushed him, nor even suggested that anything notable should happen this night - he had been content to fall asleep quickly after the day's hard travels, the two of them having forged a path ahead of the rest of their brethren through the near-untouched forest with all its thick summer foliage. No more had passed between them beneath the blankets but a few light kisses, caresses, and brief conversation before Sydney had simply curled against him, his head resting on Hardin's shoulder, and sighed in that soft way he had, the way that Hardin had come to recognize as much the same as Sydney bidding him good night.
Would that Hardin had found his own rest so easily as Sydney. He should have been every bit as tired, possibly more so. Did the same powers that granted Sydney immortality keep him from tiring as well, he wondered? For certainly Sydney had not seemed to tire for the entire day, and oft enough Hardin was the one who had lagged behind, despite his greater height and longer legs. Yet now he was awake, wondering if perhaps he should have made his interest known more strongly, or if it would only have led to them both lying awake in frustration if he was unable to follow through. At least Sydney was at peace, he thought with resignation, staring up at the treetops that served as their canopy. As for his own restlessness and the worries that kept his mind awake - not all of them to do with Sydney in particular, given what they had found at the last village in which the brethren of Müllenkamp had hoped to find work - they never seemed to truly pass, but eventually they would retreat, when he was exhausted enough.
And besides, lying awake with Sydney at his side was less unpleasant than to lie awake alone with his concerns, which had been his way for... years, if he were to be truthful. The memories led his already pensive thoughts to become slightly more so, for as unpleasant as the nights had been when he remained awake to watch over his brother's sleep, he would gladly have suffered hundreds more such nights. Those nights had been far better than the nights he'd spent entirely alone within a prison cell, unable to do anything more than hope for Philip's safety. ...It was best, he told himself, if he did not think too deeply about it - for no matter how much he thought or wished or dreamed, he could not trade one night for another. And whichever way he might decide, it would only cause his regrets and guilt to deepen further if he went so far as to ask himself whether he might have given up these nights with Sydney to have his brother back.
For now, what he had was a night at Sydney's side. No walls surrounding him, no need to listen for a catch in his companion's breathing lest it cease. There would be matters to be decided in the morning, and though it was possible the knights might come upon them while the brethren slept, some of their men were keeping watch. The clothes they slept in, just in case, still held the green scent of the young leaves and cut grass they had cleared to make room when they made camp. At the moment, everything was still and peaceful - and upon considering it a bit longer in spite of himself, Hardin decided that in such a life as he had stumbled into, there was no better way he could spend a restless night than this. He closed his eyes, smiling faintly. At such times, he almost could fathom Sydney's steadfast faith in the gods, his sure confidence that in all things they worked for good - for despite all he had endured, now there were grateful prayers in his heart. Though he would gladly have died only a few months past, the current state of his life seemed more reward than penance.
That might have been why he had been lying awake, he thought drowsily a short time later. Perhaps he needed such a reminder from the gods that the past was gone, and in the present he was exactly where he should be - exactly where he was most needed. Often Sydney had said that the gods' wisdom and revelations did not come instantly, in a sudden burst of insight, but in puzzling through a matter - for one was more likely to find and cherish something which they had spent time and effort actively seeking.
Yet Sydney's situation was unique, and Hardin was reminded of that abruptly by a minor change in the way Sydney was settled against his shoulder. Difficult to identify at first when half-asleep, Hardin suddenly recognized the spot of wet warmth that had soaked through his thin shirt. ...Some of Sydney's revelations, he recalled, came whether Sydney sought them or not.
It had been months, he thought, going very still. Months since he had first accidentally happened across Sydney as he slept and seen his tears, a secret Sydney had kept from those who followed him. The most troubling prophecies, Sydney had told him, were those the gods sent him in dreams, visions of what would become of the world if mankind continued too long in its current state of greed and chaos. After they had reached Leá Monde, and Sydney retired to his private quarters there, Hardin had not the opportunity to watch Sydney sleep again - and then not long after they'd returned to the road, they had taken to sleeping in one another's arms more often than not. After that, never again had Hardin seen Sydney cry in his sleep. Maybe he had, Hardin reasoned, but by that time Hardin himself had fallen asleep...?
Or... it was possible Sydney could have simply made him forget. Hardin's eyes opened fully at the thought, for Sydney's ability to rewrite thoughts and memories was one of the more terrifying aspects of his power, one that still left Hardin unsettled. He had no reason to suspect Sydney of using it casually, or for something so shallow as pride, yet it was a power he possessed. As was the ability to prompt a deeper sleep, from which the sleeper would not awaken until Sydney chose to allow it... and Hardin knew Sydney used that power far more casually. Including in the past, to ensure that those he took to his bed would not see how his dreams affected him.
...Given Sydney's determination to appear calm and in control among his followers - which Hardin now was, though he had not been when last he had borne witness to Sydney's dreams - could it be that Sydney had changed his mind after Hardin had sworn his oath? Though presently he was awake and aware, might he just... not remember this in the morning?
But then again, he rebuked himself, Sydney already knew that Hardin was aware of his tears, and more than once he had acknowledged his gratitude for the comfort Hardin offered in the rare moments of vulnerability. Logically there was no reason for Sydney to have begun hiding them from him now; surely his suspicions were unfounded. Yet they continued to linger as Hardin lay there, continuing to prod at him, mocking and picking apart his simple faith in a man so unfathomable as Sydney.
Even if he was to forget, Hardin thought with a flare of determination, in the here and now, he was there to bear witness, and so he would.
Conveniently enough, due to the talent the Dark had granted him, Hardin could remain perfectly motionless and still See. Without so much as tilting his head, he could look upon Sydney's downturned face, the wet trail upon his left cheek, for the right was hidden in Hardin's shirt. He could see the expression of grief, so seldom allowed to show when Sydney was awake. He could watch the drops well up at the corner of Sydney's eye... A part of Hardin wanted to wake him from the dreams that so disturbed him, but Sydney himself had told him before - he would not have the gods' revelations interrupted. ...Even if, at times, he wished they could be. Now more than ever before, Hardin must abide by Sydney's instructions, for he was now a sworn man. All he could do was... be present, waiting and watching and wondering.
He felt it, rather than saw it, when Sydney began to wake - the sharper inhalation, held a moment too long as if surprised, then let out shakily. The arm resting carelessly across Hardin's chest stretched out a bit further as Sydney shifted closer, turning his face more fully into Hardin's shoulder. Instinct caused Hardin's own hand to rise, landing upon Sydney's back and caressing as the other arm tightened around him...
...And Sydney froze.
The implication was obvious, and so Hardin froze as well. It was not as if he could have feigned sleep. Not with Sydney, who could read the traces of his heart no matter how hard he attempted to muffle it - and at the moment, he had not been thinking to do so at all. But Sydney was used to waking from these dreams in the arms of a drowsing partner, one who would remain asleep by his will as he calmed and composed himself. ...Was this it then, Hardin thought warily? Was this where his memory would stop, with him rising in the morning to remember none of it?
In his arms, Sydney sniffed, and Hardin could not be sure whether it was reaction to Hardin's sudden unease or a facet of his tears. But then, rather than drawing back or beginning the workings of a spell, Sydney responded to Hardin's overtures by moving closer still, rolling half atop Hardin with an arm wrapped around him, his shoulders shaking slightly. Cautiously, Hardin let his arms tighten around Sydney as he had intended, drawing him close. As Sydney made no move to suggest it was unwelcome, Hardin lifted a hand to stroke Sydney's hair, pressed a kiss against the top of Sydney's head as more silent tears dampened his shirt.
The last time Hardin had witnessed the effects of Sydney's dreams, they had been barely friends, if that. In truth, they had been little more than companionable acquaintances - though due to Sydney's talents, at least one of them had known the other far better than their time traveling together should have allowed. Now that Hardin knew Sydney so much better as well, now that they were... well beyond ordinary friendship... he wondered if there was something more he should be doing to comfort Sydney, something more than the reassuring embrace and listening ear he had offered even then. He wasn't sure what Sydney might have expected of him. Or if it was something he was not yet ready for...
But if Sydney heard his unspoken questions and concerns, he gave no answer. He only remained as he was, face pressed against Hardin's shoulder as Hardin held him close, lightly caressing his back. As time passed, the slight trembling became only intermittent, then gradually disappeared as Sydney calmed. Hardin was still debating whether or not he should ask about it, or if there was something else he should say, when he heard that faint sigh again, telling him that Sydney was on the verge of falling asleep once more.
Far be it from him to disturb Sydney's sleep more than it had already been disturbed. Hardin would say nothing, only listen to the breaths that grew deeper and more even, until he was sure Sydney was had returned to his slumber. He himself was also finally growing drowsy, in spite of considering whether he should stay awake and watchful in case Sydney's dreams returned. Though it was not unusual that he should be close to finding sleep at last after a long day and a restless night, a part of him fought it anxiously even so - for he knew Sydney's tricks.
Yet if it was Sydney's magic that caused him to sleep at last, he recognized that he could do nothing to stop it. He let himself drift off, not quite resigned to the knowledge that in the morning, he might wake and recall none of this. ...Yet it had happened, came the fierce thought, and Sydney had accepted the comfort he offered - and all Sydney's power could not change what had been, as much as he might wish it.
The thought was less satisfying to Hardin than he might have hoped, but he slept nonetheless.
-----
When Hardin did wake in the early morning, it was to birdsong in the treetops overhead and the contented shifting of Sydney against him, awake but still restful. This was not unusual, and Hardin only smiled absently. It was still a pleasant surprise to wake and not be alone. To have Sydney specifically next to him, partially draped over him, made it something more than merely pleasant. It was an honor and a privilege that such beauty and power might find rest in his arms...
But such power did not come without a price, and Hardin found that the beauty was stained somewhat by the shadows around Sydney's eyes when he opened them and began to sit up. At the sight, Hardin remembered - and then, realized that he remembered. ...So his faith in Sydney's character had been justified. He could not help but feel ashamed for his doubts and suspicions, but after the past few years of his life, he thought it not entirely unreasonable that trust did not come easily.
Regardless of Hardin's mixed emotions, and the subject of them, Sydney spoke as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened, either just then or in the overnight. "Good morning, Hardin. I had thought to rise for the day, but many of our brethren still sleep. If it pleases you to remain as you are, by all means - take what rest you can before we set out again."
Initially there was relief, and a touch of awe, that he, and seemingly he alone, was allowed to see, to comfort, and moreover to remember both. It faded quickly enough as he saw the way Sydney's eyes were still downcast - but almost as soon as Hardin thought to pity him, they snapped up to meet his, almost challenging. Daring him to say anything.
One of the things that made Hardin unique among those who followed Sydney was the fact that he would dare. At least, he would dare while the two of them were alone, and so he met Sydney's slightly red-rimmed eyes as steadily as he could manage so soon after waking. "Are you all right? If there is something I can do..." It was a challenge as much as an offer.
Though surely Sydney recognized it, he paused only a moment before giving Hardin a half-smile, shaking his head, and for once not using his answer to deflect. "You have done plenty, friend. I am as well as ever." At the slight frown that appeared on Hardin's face, Sydney tilted his head curiously. "Come now, I have dreamed dreams of the world's end for many years - and until you stumbled upon my secret, without anyone to knowingly offer comfort. You know this. And now you are concerned for me? Why does such sorrow sing in your heart, Hardin?"
"To my knowledge, you had not dreamed such dreams for many days, since I had begun sleeping at your side," Hardin replied. Now, saying it aloud, it seemed foolish, but he said it anyhow. "...I had hoped that somehow my presence kept them from you."
Sydney's half-smile turned slightly amused. "If it had, I could not have continued to bed with you."
Much like the observation that he was being allowed to remember, Hardin found this answer was somehow both reassuring and somewhat distressing.
"Unpleasant as the gods' revelations often are," Sydney told him, his eyes regaining their usual distance as the smile faded, "they are a gift - and they are necessary. I would not receive these visions if there were no reason, nor if the gods did not intend for me to have a part in preventing them from coming to pass. All of us have our place in this moment in time, a role to play in the grand pageantry of the history of creation, and the prophecies I am given are a part of mine."
"Even so," Hardin replied, sitting up as well. Though still physically tired, his mind was now wide awake. "You have more burdens than one man should have to bear. I would lighten them if I could."
Sydney's eyes closed, his head bowed ever so slightly, then he shifted to his knees, leaning in to give Hardin a light kiss. "...You do," he said quietly, once more leaning his head against Hardin's shoulder as Hardin's arms reached out to encircle him. "If not in the way that you had hoped, you do."
Sydney fell silent, just resting in Hardin's embrace once more, and Hardin considered as he idly combed his fingers through Sydney's hair. He supposed he couldn't argue the point; if Sydney deigned to let him alone see and remember, then there must be a reason. Hardin must be doing something for him, though what he had done did not seem like much, and he would have done far more if he knew how.
But then, Sydney had said they all had a role to play, each had their place... It was an echo, Hardin realized, of what he had been pondering during the night, before he had been drawn out of his thoughts by Sydney's tears upon his shoulder.
If this was presently where he was meant to be and what he was meant to do, truly he had been blessed.
Fandom: Vagrant Story
Rating: PG
Length: 3100ish words
Content notes: None
Author notes: Veered off into different themes than the prompt, and got much longer than expected, but there is still a lot of holding going on. Hope that's still okay...?
References back to scenes in the first story in the series I've been writing about Sydney and Hardin pre-canon... for twenty years... since this is still set in their early days. Probably will become the new #4 story when I can upload.
And while we're at it, whytf does Pink Floyd go so well with these two? Title shamelessly borrowed yet again.
Summary: Revelations come in the night, and also in the morning.
-----
Even if everything in their lives was so wrong in nearly every other way, one thing that Hardin believed to be right was the nights he spent lying beside Sydney.
He had to admit, pleasant as they were, that even these nights were not as right as they could have been. If he were not so overly self-conscious, a part of him still clinging to old prejudices and widely-held beliefs from a world he'd chosen to turn his back on, he might have been less reluctant to make up their blankets together amidst the other brethren of Müllenkamp. Surely no one else among their number would have found it remarkable that he was spending the night at Sydney's side - it was only his own insecurities that caused him to refrain. And if not for those same insecurities, when they unrolled their bedding further from the others such as they had upon this night, he might have... done more than only spend the night lying beside Sydney.
That had not been how the evening had unfolded, and so once again Hardin merely lay with Sydney at his side, silently mulling over his cowardice. It was not as if Sydney had pushed him, nor even suggested that anything notable should happen this night - he had been content to fall asleep quickly after the day's hard travels, the two of them having forged a path ahead of the rest of their brethren through the near-untouched forest with all its thick summer foliage. No more had passed between them beneath the blankets but a few light kisses, caresses, and brief conversation before Sydney had simply curled against him, his head resting on Hardin's shoulder, and sighed in that soft way he had, the way that Hardin had come to recognize as much the same as Sydney bidding him good night.
Would that Hardin had found his own rest so easily as Sydney. He should have been every bit as tired, possibly more so. Did the same powers that granted Sydney immortality keep him from tiring as well, he wondered? For certainly Sydney had not seemed to tire for the entire day, and oft enough Hardin was the one who had lagged behind, despite his greater height and longer legs. Yet now he was awake, wondering if perhaps he should have made his interest known more strongly, or if it would only have led to them both lying awake in frustration if he was unable to follow through. At least Sydney was at peace, he thought with resignation, staring up at the treetops that served as their canopy. As for his own restlessness and the worries that kept his mind awake - not all of them to do with Sydney in particular, given what they had found at the last village in which the brethren of Müllenkamp had hoped to find work - they never seemed to truly pass, but eventually they would retreat, when he was exhausted enough.
And besides, lying awake with Sydney at his side was less unpleasant than to lie awake alone with his concerns, which had been his way for... years, if he were to be truthful. The memories led his already pensive thoughts to become slightly more so, for as unpleasant as the nights had been when he remained awake to watch over his brother's sleep, he would gladly have suffered hundreds more such nights. Those nights had been far better than the nights he'd spent entirely alone within a prison cell, unable to do anything more than hope for Philip's safety. ...It was best, he told himself, if he did not think too deeply about it - for no matter how much he thought or wished or dreamed, he could not trade one night for another. And whichever way he might decide, it would only cause his regrets and guilt to deepen further if he went so far as to ask himself whether he might have given up these nights with Sydney to have his brother back.
For now, what he had was a night at Sydney's side. No walls surrounding him, no need to listen for a catch in his companion's breathing lest it cease. There would be matters to be decided in the morning, and though it was possible the knights might come upon them while the brethren slept, some of their men were keeping watch. The clothes they slept in, just in case, still held the green scent of the young leaves and cut grass they had cleared to make room when they made camp. At the moment, everything was still and peaceful - and upon considering it a bit longer in spite of himself, Hardin decided that in such a life as he had stumbled into, there was no better way he could spend a restless night than this. He closed his eyes, smiling faintly. At such times, he almost could fathom Sydney's steadfast faith in the gods, his sure confidence that in all things they worked for good - for despite all he had endured, now there were grateful prayers in his heart. Though he would gladly have died only a few months past, the current state of his life seemed more reward than penance.
That might have been why he had been lying awake, he thought drowsily a short time later. Perhaps he needed such a reminder from the gods that the past was gone, and in the present he was exactly where he should be - exactly where he was most needed. Often Sydney had said that the gods' wisdom and revelations did not come instantly, in a sudden burst of insight, but in puzzling through a matter - for one was more likely to find and cherish something which they had spent time and effort actively seeking.
Yet Sydney's situation was unique, and Hardin was reminded of that abruptly by a minor change in the way Sydney was settled against his shoulder. Difficult to identify at first when half-asleep, Hardin suddenly recognized the spot of wet warmth that had soaked through his thin shirt. ...Some of Sydney's revelations, he recalled, came whether Sydney sought them or not.
It had been months, he thought, going very still. Months since he had first accidentally happened across Sydney as he slept and seen his tears, a secret Sydney had kept from those who followed him. The most troubling prophecies, Sydney had told him, were those the gods sent him in dreams, visions of what would become of the world if mankind continued too long in its current state of greed and chaos. After they had reached Leá Monde, and Sydney retired to his private quarters there, Hardin had not the opportunity to watch Sydney sleep again - and then not long after they'd returned to the road, they had taken to sleeping in one another's arms more often than not. After that, never again had Hardin seen Sydney cry in his sleep. Maybe he had, Hardin reasoned, but by that time Hardin himself had fallen asleep...?
Or... it was possible Sydney could have simply made him forget. Hardin's eyes opened fully at the thought, for Sydney's ability to rewrite thoughts and memories was one of the more terrifying aspects of his power, one that still left Hardin unsettled. He had no reason to suspect Sydney of using it casually, or for something so shallow as pride, yet it was a power he possessed. As was the ability to prompt a deeper sleep, from which the sleeper would not awaken until Sydney chose to allow it... and Hardin knew Sydney used that power far more casually. Including in the past, to ensure that those he took to his bed would not see how his dreams affected him.
...Given Sydney's determination to appear calm and in control among his followers - which Hardin now was, though he had not been when last he had borne witness to Sydney's dreams - could it be that Sydney had changed his mind after Hardin had sworn his oath? Though presently he was awake and aware, might he just... not remember this in the morning?
But then again, he rebuked himself, Sydney already knew that Hardin was aware of his tears, and more than once he had acknowledged his gratitude for the comfort Hardin offered in the rare moments of vulnerability. Logically there was no reason for Sydney to have begun hiding them from him now; surely his suspicions were unfounded. Yet they continued to linger as Hardin lay there, continuing to prod at him, mocking and picking apart his simple faith in a man so unfathomable as Sydney.
Even if he was to forget, Hardin thought with a flare of determination, in the here and now, he was there to bear witness, and so he would.
Conveniently enough, due to the talent the Dark had granted him, Hardin could remain perfectly motionless and still See. Without so much as tilting his head, he could look upon Sydney's downturned face, the wet trail upon his left cheek, for the right was hidden in Hardin's shirt. He could see the expression of grief, so seldom allowed to show when Sydney was awake. He could watch the drops well up at the corner of Sydney's eye... A part of Hardin wanted to wake him from the dreams that so disturbed him, but Sydney himself had told him before - he would not have the gods' revelations interrupted. ...Even if, at times, he wished they could be. Now more than ever before, Hardin must abide by Sydney's instructions, for he was now a sworn man. All he could do was... be present, waiting and watching and wondering.
He felt it, rather than saw it, when Sydney began to wake - the sharper inhalation, held a moment too long as if surprised, then let out shakily. The arm resting carelessly across Hardin's chest stretched out a bit further as Sydney shifted closer, turning his face more fully into Hardin's shoulder. Instinct caused Hardin's own hand to rise, landing upon Sydney's back and caressing as the other arm tightened around him...
...And Sydney froze.
The implication was obvious, and so Hardin froze as well. It was not as if he could have feigned sleep. Not with Sydney, who could read the traces of his heart no matter how hard he attempted to muffle it - and at the moment, he had not been thinking to do so at all. But Sydney was used to waking from these dreams in the arms of a drowsing partner, one who would remain asleep by his will as he calmed and composed himself. ...Was this it then, Hardin thought warily? Was this where his memory would stop, with him rising in the morning to remember none of it?
In his arms, Sydney sniffed, and Hardin could not be sure whether it was reaction to Hardin's sudden unease or a facet of his tears. But then, rather than drawing back or beginning the workings of a spell, Sydney responded to Hardin's overtures by moving closer still, rolling half atop Hardin with an arm wrapped around him, his shoulders shaking slightly. Cautiously, Hardin let his arms tighten around Sydney as he had intended, drawing him close. As Sydney made no move to suggest it was unwelcome, Hardin lifted a hand to stroke Sydney's hair, pressed a kiss against the top of Sydney's head as more silent tears dampened his shirt.
The last time Hardin had witnessed the effects of Sydney's dreams, they had been barely friends, if that. In truth, they had been little more than companionable acquaintances - though due to Sydney's talents, at least one of them had known the other far better than their time traveling together should have allowed. Now that Hardin knew Sydney so much better as well, now that they were... well beyond ordinary friendship... he wondered if there was something more he should be doing to comfort Sydney, something more than the reassuring embrace and listening ear he had offered even then. He wasn't sure what Sydney might have expected of him. Or if it was something he was not yet ready for...
But if Sydney heard his unspoken questions and concerns, he gave no answer. He only remained as he was, face pressed against Hardin's shoulder as Hardin held him close, lightly caressing his back. As time passed, the slight trembling became only intermittent, then gradually disappeared as Sydney calmed. Hardin was still debating whether or not he should ask about it, or if there was something else he should say, when he heard that faint sigh again, telling him that Sydney was on the verge of falling asleep once more.
Far be it from him to disturb Sydney's sleep more than it had already been disturbed. Hardin would say nothing, only listen to the breaths that grew deeper and more even, until he was sure Sydney was had returned to his slumber. He himself was also finally growing drowsy, in spite of considering whether he should stay awake and watchful in case Sydney's dreams returned. Though it was not unusual that he should be close to finding sleep at last after a long day and a restless night, a part of him fought it anxiously even so - for he knew Sydney's tricks.
Yet if it was Sydney's magic that caused him to sleep at last, he recognized that he could do nothing to stop it. He let himself drift off, not quite resigned to the knowledge that in the morning, he might wake and recall none of this. ...Yet it had happened, came the fierce thought, and Sydney had accepted the comfort he offered - and all Sydney's power could not change what had been, as much as he might wish it.
The thought was less satisfying to Hardin than he might have hoped, but he slept nonetheless.
-----
When Hardin did wake in the early morning, it was to birdsong in the treetops overhead and the contented shifting of Sydney against him, awake but still restful. This was not unusual, and Hardin only smiled absently. It was still a pleasant surprise to wake and not be alone. To have Sydney specifically next to him, partially draped over him, made it something more than merely pleasant. It was an honor and a privilege that such beauty and power might find rest in his arms...
But such power did not come without a price, and Hardin found that the beauty was stained somewhat by the shadows around Sydney's eyes when he opened them and began to sit up. At the sight, Hardin remembered - and then, realized that he remembered. ...So his faith in Sydney's character had been justified. He could not help but feel ashamed for his doubts and suspicions, but after the past few years of his life, he thought it not entirely unreasonable that trust did not come easily.
Regardless of Hardin's mixed emotions, and the subject of them, Sydney spoke as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened, either just then or in the overnight. "Good morning, Hardin. I had thought to rise for the day, but many of our brethren still sleep. If it pleases you to remain as you are, by all means - take what rest you can before we set out again."
Initially there was relief, and a touch of awe, that he, and seemingly he alone, was allowed to see, to comfort, and moreover to remember both. It faded quickly enough as he saw the way Sydney's eyes were still downcast - but almost as soon as Hardin thought to pity him, they snapped up to meet his, almost challenging. Daring him to say anything.
One of the things that made Hardin unique among those who followed Sydney was the fact that he would dare. At least, he would dare while the two of them were alone, and so he met Sydney's slightly red-rimmed eyes as steadily as he could manage so soon after waking. "Are you all right? If there is something I can do..." It was a challenge as much as an offer.
Though surely Sydney recognized it, he paused only a moment before giving Hardin a half-smile, shaking his head, and for once not using his answer to deflect. "You have done plenty, friend. I am as well as ever." At the slight frown that appeared on Hardin's face, Sydney tilted his head curiously. "Come now, I have dreamed dreams of the world's end for many years - and until you stumbled upon my secret, without anyone to knowingly offer comfort. You know this. And now you are concerned for me? Why does such sorrow sing in your heart, Hardin?"
"To my knowledge, you had not dreamed such dreams for many days, since I had begun sleeping at your side," Hardin replied. Now, saying it aloud, it seemed foolish, but he said it anyhow. "...I had hoped that somehow my presence kept them from you."
Sydney's half-smile turned slightly amused. "If it had, I could not have continued to bed with you."
Much like the observation that he was being allowed to remember, Hardin found this answer was somehow both reassuring and somewhat distressing.
"Unpleasant as the gods' revelations often are," Sydney told him, his eyes regaining their usual distance as the smile faded, "they are a gift - and they are necessary. I would not receive these visions if there were no reason, nor if the gods did not intend for me to have a part in preventing them from coming to pass. All of us have our place in this moment in time, a role to play in the grand pageantry of the history of creation, and the prophecies I am given are a part of mine."
"Even so," Hardin replied, sitting up as well. Though still physically tired, his mind was now wide awake. "You have more burdens than one man should have to bear. I would lighten them if I could."
Sydney's eyes closed, his head bowed ever so slightly, then he shifted to his knees, leaning in to give Hardin a light kiss. "...You do," he said quietly, once more leaning his head against Hardin's shoulder as Hardin's arms reached out to encircle him. "If not in the way that you had hoped, you do."
Sydney fell silent, just resting in Hardin's embrace once more, and Hardin considered as he idly combed his fingers through Sydney's hair. He supposed he couldn't argue the point; if Sydney deigned to let him alone see and remember, then there must be a reason. Hardin must be doing something for him, though what he had done did not seem like much, and he would have done far more if he knew how.
But then, Sydney had said they all had a role to play, each had their place... It was an echo, Hardin realized, of what he had been pondering during the night, before he had been drawn out of his thoughts by Sydney's tears upon his shoulder.
If this was presently where he was meant to be and what he was meant to do, truly he had been blessed.