to hell and back for you

He had finally managed a comfortable position on his cot when he felt it- the zing through his fingertips as it danced across his skin. The same electricity that he had felt back in the practice hall and again when he had been given his own disguise. And it came with a promise that could not be heard nor read, but felt in his very soul.

I’m coming.

Bound hands gripped at the bars, the rusted steel cold to the touch, and he slowly pulled himself back up, turning to lean his back against them with a deep sigh. I told you no, he wished he could call back, drawing his knee to his chest and resting his forehead against it. His eyes squeezed shut, his hands gripped together in his lap, white knuckled and shaking.

When he hadn’t heard back from her, he had hoped that she had listened to him. Just this once. Just this once, he wanted her to be safe, and yet it was him who was leading her into the lion’s den. If he had been more prepared, if he hadn’t taken that drink, if he had just killed the bastard in the first place...

But now, he was facing death for a crime he wasn’t sure he committed, and his hidden mage fiance was about to walk through the front gates of a mage prison.

He didn’t realize how tightly his fingers gripped into his own skin until he felt warmth pool at his fingertips, and a burn to the small wounds as he pulled his hands apart. He peered through the darkness, turning them to the flicker of the torches. Red trickled down his palms, staining his skin red.

Fuck.

His hands closed into fists and he slammed one into the bars at his side. His breath caught in his throat at the pain that sprung from his hand, but he ignored it, leaning his head back against the bars and turning his gaze to the ceiling with a shuddering breath.

And that was how he remained for the rest of the night, unmoving and unsleeping, until he heard the creek of the door for the morning guard change. Their voices fluttered through the halls, even echoing into the jail chambers in passing.

“Lady Lasair has arrived.”
A pause, and then a sigh.

Basileios straightened as the door swung fully open now, the guard’s heavy boots thudding towards his cell. He refused to make eye contact with the shadow mage, and there was a small smirk on Basileios’ lips as he regarded him out of the corner of his eye. This was the guard that he had blamed for his initial escape, before they realized he was using his magic.

Now, his hands remained bound in magic suppressing cuffs to make sure that didn’t happen again, and just in case, the guards weren’t allowed to speak to him.

I heard you got in a lot of trouble... Just as he was about to open his mouth and say just that, he paused at the sound of approaching steps. This time, there were two people, and one didn’t have the walk of a guard. All attempts to remain unfazed bled away as he turned to the doorway, seeing her escorted down the steps.

He pushed himself from his place on the cot, stumbling as his knee protested to the sudden weight. But he pushed through the throbbing pain to catch himself against the bars, leaning against the ones closest to the door as he reached for her through the gaps. Her hands were warm in his freezing grip, and they sent a shiver down his spine as he squeezed them tightly in his grasp.

He moved to speak, but could not find his words, suffocating on everything he wanted to say, but didn’t know how. And for the moment, he forgot that she was here against his wishes. He forgot about his fear. All of the hell he had gone through, from the alleyway to the prison, bled away as he laid his eyes on her and soaked in every detail, just in case this truly was his last chance.