Jasper felt like crying. He didn’t because he was Pruulian, for fuck's sake, and their people did not cry for anything less than agony. Aahad would not die, so there was nothing to cry about. NOTHING TO CRY ABOUT.

His hands around his friend’s squeezed tight.

“Of all the ways to get out of getting married you just had to choose this one, didn’t you? Aahad, when will you learn to tone down the overdramatics?” He tried, really tried, to keep the joking, light tone he had always used with this man, but couldn’t. After everything that had happened over the last day, this was too much.

A tear rolled down his cheek and he let it, let Aahad see it because he didn’t care, not anymore. “Of course I’ll get you water.”

Jasper filled the cup and cooled it down so it would be easier to drink. He even held it to the Priest’s lips so his trembling, limp arms would not have to do the work that Jax’s healthy ones were more than capable of doing. Then he moved about the room. He could not wick moisture out of things like a Water Priestess but there were other ways to dry bedding. With a word of warning he pulled the blankets off and heated them with craft until they were dry, then hoisted Aahad up into his arms to do the same with the bed, and setting him down on warm, dry sheets. He tucked Aahad in with all the care he gave baby Fari on the rare occasions Hadjara now let him handle her and even found a towel to wipe away the perspiration on Aahad’s forehead.

All this to make him more comfortable, but also to avoid answering that one question.

Of course, he had asked about Aahad’s family. They were all but family to Jasper as well since his own grandparents had died. Even though he had been almost certain he had seen their end he had made sure. The remaining Situla numbered in the dozens, perhaps a few hundred once the ones not in Onn were counted but their Tribe was… gone. Over. Centuries of history reduced to Jasper, Aahad, and a few others. Was Jasper now the highest-ranking member of the Situla? Would the responsibility for their fate rest on his shoulders?

Not something to think about right now, or rather a great thing to think about so he wouldn’t have to answer-

The agonized look in Aahad’s eyes brought all other thoughts to silence. Jasper came back to sitting by the bed, and when even that didn’t seem like enough he crawled in to sit against the headboard, pulling Aahad’s trembling body against his, and wrapping his wings around them both, hoping that maybe he could impart some tiny measure of strength to his friend through presence alone.

“She’s gone, brother. I’m sorry. I could only save one of you and…” His arms around the Priest tightened and he pressed his face into Aahad’s curly hair. “I’m sorry.”

A seizure? What the… Then again, her body did feel as if she had just run a mile or two uphill on her moontime, a sensation she knew all too well for having done it a time or two. Every muscle in her body ached, her head throbbed and there was just the hint of the taste of blood in her mouth. But why would she have had a seizure? How…

Her eyes fluttered closed. So tired. Could she remember ever being so tired? Elenor wasn’t sure but she knew she had no intention of disobeying Jeremiah and moving anywhere just yet. Maybe she could just take a nap right here, in the grass. Yes, that seemed like a good idea. It didn’t even matter that there was another person right next to her or that anyone could walk by and see them because the ground was so comfortable, the land soothing, perfectly happy to just swallow her up and never let go. Maybe if she gave in to the way it always seemed to scream at her here she could just sink inside it and sleep forever.

His hand on her shoulder startled her out of her half-doze.

“Room, yes…”

Getting up was a struggle. Jeremiah had to all but haul her up but once she had her legs under her Elenor stubbornly kept them there, just as she had the time she had been forced to walk through a blizzard for almost five miles. She had always been alright as long as her feet here under her, could always get away from her problems and pick up some speed.

Well, speed wasn’t really an option now, to be honest, not with the way her muscles were shaking, but Jeremiah’s arm around her waist kept her at least nominally vertical until they got to the door of her room. There she braced herself on the frame for a moment, panting, before continuing on.

He helped her settle onto her bed and she let out a relieved sigh, falling onto her side and pulling her legs up to her chest. “So tired,” Elenor whispered, quietly enough that only he could hear, but then there were hurried footsteps and another voice. She recognized it as her Master of the Guard from the room next door, then his rough hands were on her forehead and cheek, turning her face up to look at him.

“Lady Elenor-”

“I’m fine… I’m fine… just sleepy is all. Prince… Mercer was just kind enough to bring me back here. I’m fine. I’m fine.”

She closed her eyes and felt him retreat but not far. “What happened? She clearly isn’t fine?” Elenor could hear the anger bubbling under the surface and shot out her hand to grab Danyal’s wrist. She missed but after a bit of flailing caught it in a weak grip. A brush of her Touch came before,

“He didn’t harm me, not in any way, nor did anyone else. Please, Danyal. I’m really fine.”

The old Warlord patted her hand but turned back to the Warlord Prince. “Sorry, she has a habit of running headlong into danger and it has me on edge. What really happened?”

Keeping.

Keeping.