His thoughts stuttered when he realized that they would likely return to the palace when it was over, and Midori waited at the palace. Unless, of course, Midori was trying to find him. That seemed like something Midori would do.
What would Dario think if he knew about Midori? Would he think that Culebra had given up on him? No longer wanted him?
Happy thoughts, he was supposed to be thinking happy thoughts. Dario was still in love with him. Midori had not been afraid of him, not even a little, not even once. Selfishly, he wondered if they might get along. He flinched, feeling guilty. The world was on the verge of destruction, it was his powers that were going to be the method of destruction, and he was daydreaming about his old lover and his new.
But anything was better than recalling his terrifying fall: the water, the noise, the way it had felt like he was hitting solid rock when he finally struck the water; the rush of the current, not being able to breathe. The cold, the dark. He was so tired of never being able to see. Just once, just once he would like to know how the world looked. To not be afraid.
What if nobody ever found him? He was even more of a god now than he had been hours ago, at most a day or so ago. He could feel death all around him. In the earth, in the trees, in the very body of the mountain itself. Many had died there over the centuries—too many. All of them were seeking either to obtain his powers or destroy him.
Culebra forced himself to unbend and carefully explored his immediate surroundings again despite the fact he had the small area already memorized. He knew the lone, prickly bush, the cluster of hand-size rocks to his right, the weeds and pebbles that littered the rest. The little island in the middle of the river seemed to be about as long as he was tall, and tapered to rounded points at each end. The center, where he sat, was about half his height. How far away the river banks were, he did not know. They could have been mere steps, they could have been a brisk swim. He did not dare risk it.
The air was growing colder, the animals quieter, and even his heightened senses were not enough to stave off the panic that ever hovered at the fringes of his mind. He did not know which would be been worse: being found by Jürgen, or never being found at all.
He did not dare hold out hope that anyone else would rescue him. Cortez possibly, but only if she got close enough to him that their bond began working again. When he'd tumbled from the bridge, he'd heard her anguish in his mind. He'd called out to it, trying to soothe her and feeling the pain as though it were his own. No doubt she'd felt his fear just as acutely. Strange to be so close to someone, so intimately bound. It was far too easy to forget that she had been the one to kidnap him in the first place.
If he was honest, he did not even care. They had both been manipulated. She'd never been cruel. He would have given anything to hear her calm, quiet voice in his mind again.
He would have given even more to hear Dario call out to him, to have Midori hold him. Perhaps he was a selfish bastard for wanting them both, but right then and there did it really matter? If that selfish daydream was all he had to keep himself sane then he would cling ruthlessly to it.
Was it day? Night? How long had they been in the forest, and how long had it been since he'd thrown himself off the bridge?
Happy thoughts. Either he would die of exposure in the forest, or Cortez would figure it all out and they could go home again. He would take care of Cortez, see to it she was never troubled again by such nonsense, and then he would hide in his room with Dario and Midori for days. Weeks. Possibly months. As long as he was fantasizing, he may as well fantasize in full, and he could do no better for fantasy than he, Dario, and Midori together for days on end.
It hurt, finally letting go of Granito, and he felt like crying when he realized that was what he had just done. But Granito was gone. It was time to really move on, and if he survived Jürgen's scheming he would move forward without any more hesitations.
The hiss was so soft, so familiar, that he decided he had imagined it. Even when he heard it a second and third time, he ignored it as wishful thinking. It was not until Ruisenor touched him, coiled around him, that Culebra finally broke down sobbing and clung to her for dear life. "Ruisenor! How did you—"
"Highness!"
"Culebra!"
He had to be imagining things—but there was no mistaking the sound of two people jumping into the river and rushing toward him, though swimming or wading he could not tell. Then he was wrapped up in two sets of arms, Ruisenor squirming out of the way, and Culebra could not tell if he was crying or laughing as he clung to both Midori and Dario. "What are you both doing here? How did you find me?"
"Ruisenor led me to you, highness, all the way from the palace," Midori said quietly. "She really is the most magnificent creature."
Culebra just laughed. "I can't believe you're both here. I am fairly certain that much coincidence is not allowed."
"Except where chaos and destiny collide and create good fortune," Midori replied. "Come on. We need to get you into dry clothes. I'd imagine some warm food would not go amiss either."
Culebra just nodded, biting back disappointed whimpers when they let him go to do whatever it was they were doing. A couple of minutes later Dario's hands slid around him again, pulling Culebra to his feet. "However did you wind up here, Culebra? Where are the others?"
Ignoring the questions, Culebra rested his hands on Dario's chest and then slid them up to his face, every line and curve of his body still so familiar. It was as easy as breathing to lean up and find Dario's mouth, kiss him softly. Dario groaned, the rough, familiar sound of it the sweetest thing Culebra had heard in months.
Then Dario was kissing him ravenously and holding him tightly, all that lovely quiet and patience gone. He had always loved best the way Dario's cool burned away around Granito and him. When they finally drew apart, Culebra gently stroked his face, making note of all the minute changes and relishing that he was still so familiar. "I thought you hated me for ... for killing Granito. Setting you free seemed the only thing I could do."
"You didn't kill him, Culebra. I would never think that of you. The mermaids killed him. I hated I was not there for you, for him. That without him, I was not good enough for—"
Culebra cut him off with another kiss, horrified by the words and that he'd inspired them. "You're too good for me," he whispered when they drew apart. "You're my bodyguard."
"Yes," Dario said. "I definitely am. Don't send me away anymore."
"I won't."
"Promise."
"I promise."
"Good," Dario said and kissed him one last, lingering time before drawing back and twisting around to pull Culebra's arms up over his shoulders. "Come on, caro. Onto my back, we'll get you out of this river. Your captain has a fire going already."
Culebra tensed at those words. His captain. What did Dario mean by that? Surely not what he thought. He bit back his questions, though, as they slipped into the water and Dario waded them across. It was cold, shockingly so, but it was worth it when they stepped onto land again and Culebra realized he was no longer trapped on that horrible island.
He'd been saved. He still could scarcely believe it. Dario settled him in front of a fire, and Culebra whimpered to feel the heat wash over his body. A soft hiss emanated from his left, and he reached out to stroke his fingers along Ruisenor's smooth scales.
Fingers lightly touched his shoulder, drawing his attention. The fingers slid away, covered his hand, and curled it around a hot cup that smelled of fragrant tea. "However did you manage to survive the waterfall, highness?"
"You really should not be calling me highness," Culebra said with a smile, turning his head so he was closer to the sound of Midori's voice—so close, he could just barely feel Midori's breaths on his skin. "You know my name. Use it. I know you know how to say it."
Midori chuckled softly. Culebra did not know what to do. He wanted to kiss Midori. If he didn't, he would hurt Midori. If he did, he would hurt Dario.
This had been so much easier when the entire affair had been initiated by two brothers. Fingertips brushed his cheek, whisper soft; he almost thought he imagined it. But there was no imagining Midori's soft kiss, gentle where Dario had been rough. Just thinking about the contrasts made Culebra shiver.
It was the clinking of dishes and the sound of feet crunching on forest debris that made him pull back. "I feel I am missing something."
Midori laughed and kissed the corner of his mouth. "Drink your tea. I'll have the soup done in another hour or so. It won't be much, just quick travel soup, but it's energizing."
Culebra obediently drank his tea and had barely finished his first cup when Midori refilled it. "We can't linger long, Jürgen still has Cortez, and I don't know what they'll do when they finally reach the Temple of Solace."
Except he had a terrifying feeling he knew exactly what they were going to do.
I will not let you destroy everything!
You do not have a choice.
There will always be a choice. Everyone has the right to choose, however much you have come to hate that.
Choices should be left to those strong and wise enough to make them.
I may not be wise enough to make all the right choices, but I am certainly strong enough to take one of your options away!
Culebra dropped his tea and pressed the heels of his hands to his throbbing temples, willing back the voices resonating through his head. He did not dare think about whose voices he was hearing, though he knew eventually he would not be able to avoid it.
Warm hands covered his own—Midori on the left, Dario on the right. They rested their other hands on his back and pressed up against his sides. Culebra immediately relaxed. He had badly missed being surrounded in such fashion, being safe. It was impossible to feel alone cradled between two people who obviously cared, even if he did not always understand why they cared.
Dario kissed his cheek. "You were muttering to yourself, Culebra. In words I couldn't understand. I think you were speaking some form of Ancient."
"Was I?" Culebra asked.
"Yes," Midori replied and kissed his other cheek. "You sounded exactly like one of the priests of Pozhar."
Culebra leaned into him, enjoying the way that, beneath the smells of sweat and dirt, he could still smell the sea on Midori. "I heard voices in my head. I think they're memories. Of—of nine hundred years ago."
On either side of him, Midori and Dario were dismayingly quiet. Culebra tensed and tried to withdraw—but they only held him tighter, lips and hands soothing, until he slowly relaxed again.
"What are they memories of, exactly?" Dario asked softly, and Culebra hated when he used that soft tone. It meant he knew something and it was bad and he was trying to act as though he didn't know it.
Culebra wondered what he had figured out and hoped it was not the same thing to which he was slowly resigning himself. "I'm not sure. An argument. The Basilisk and someone else. I think he was trying to stop someone from doing something."
He was almost positive it was the Basilisk arguing with Licht, and that it was moments before he had died. But that was all. The rest would come, he knew, but he had no desire to rush it. "It doesn't matter right now," he said. "Cortez is what matters. We can't let her die, and if we don't get to her soon, that is exactly what will happen."
"Fidel will catch up to her, and we'll continue on as soon as you have the strength. You need to rest."
Culebra shook his head and tried to push away from them. "I'm fine. I'm a little tired, but—"
He stopped when Dario covered his mouth with one finger. "Culebra, you are the color of bleached bone, and yet when we saw you in the middle of the river I swear you had managed to grow even paler. We are not going anywhere until you have rested. Then I am sending you and Midori back down the mountain—"
"No!" Culebra replied. The ground trembled beneath them as anger overtook him. "Schatten is not welcome here. The shadows of Licht will not be tolerated. Those who enter the Temple of Solace without permission will suffer the consequences."
"W-whatever you—," Dario said, sounding shaken.
Culebra immediately flinched, the power thrumming through him snuffed. "I'm sorry," he said more quietly. "I—I never know when I'm going to do that. I have felt like two people ever since he woke my powers. I didn't mean to scare anyone."
"You could never scare me," Dario said wryly. "It is hard to be scared of anybody after meeting him as a boy and loving him after he becomes a man. I do not deny I was a bit startled, but that is because feeling the way the ground shakes is disconcerting and seeing you act like a god is ... it is like seeing you come into your own, Culebra. Like some part of you is finally waking."
"I don't want to be a god," Culebra said. "It must be even lonelier as a god than it is as a pale imitation."
Dario's hands fell on his cheeks, and then Culebra was treated to a hard, almost brutal kiss. It left his lips throbbing, his breathes in short supply. "You will always have me, Culebra. You promised never to send me away again. And I think that if we do not scare him off, you will have stolen away a child of the seas for your very own."
Culebra started to reply, but the warm mouth and teeth that grazed along his throat turned the attempted words into a soft sigh and shivers.
"We never did get you out of these wet clothes," Dario said softly. "I am amazed that they stayed on, given your spill over the waterfall. Did you fall? Jump?"
"J-jumped," Culebra said as Dario tore away his shirt, and they shifted so that Culebra was pressed back against Midori, who held fast to his upper arms and resumed making a feast of Culebra's throat, occasionally dipping down to trail kisses along his shoulder or up to nibble teasingly at his earlobe. "We need to be g-going—"
But suddenly he could not remember where they were supposed to be going as Dario's long absent, but never forgotten mouth nipped at his collarbone and then began to blaze a burning trail down his chest, lingering at each of his nipples until they throbbed from sensation, and then working lower and lower. "D-Dario-we can't—"