featheredflames: (4)
[personal profile] featheredflames
After a long time of searching and tracking his brother down, Joshua Rosfield is finally bracing himself to come face to face with his brother. It has been years since the Night of Flames and the tragedy that befell their home thanks to their mother's treacherous betrayal. He himself had almost succumbed to his injuries and Clive had been tossed into the Sanbrequoi army without a second thought, branded and treated worse than a mutt with mange. When Cyril had told him the fate of his brother and the truth of what had happened that night, Joshua had wept till he could no longer squeeze another tear out of him. Fate had been unkind to them both, certainly, but Clive had endured a particular sort of suffering Joshua would not wish upon anyone.

And now...now that he was grown and could handle his own, he would save him. Somehow. The details were only half worked out, but if Joshua was good at anything it was coming up with a solution on the fly. Jote had been sent ahead and Joshua had reassured her he would be fine. That he would have to do this alone. Needed to.

There might be a beast that slumbered inside of his brother, but was that not true for every human? Beyond eikons and magicks there were primal urges and needs that had to be met. Society was not only tiered by those who were branded and not, but by their physical disposition. Joshua had presented as an Omega late in life, well into his teenage years, due to the trauma he had endured. It had been a struggle to come to terms with his body, to force the suppressant medicine down his throat along with everything else. His body always seemed to want to work against him, but it had always been that way, hadn't it? If it wasn't illness it was discomforting desires, the urge to submit himself to those of an opposite disposition...

No. He would be fine. He would corner Clive when he was alone, reveal himself and the two of them would leave together. There would be no mishaps, no hiccups or mistakes - he couldn't afford for there to be.

It is just outside Northreach that Joshua finds his brother alone, lost in thought, staring at the flames of a fire. The sight of the brand on his cheek makes his chest ache, but he would make this right. Somehow, he would save Clive...he just needed to convince him that he was who he said he was. Surely that would not be difficult to accomplish.

...But Clive was a soldier, and a good one at that. He would be a fool to sneak up on him...so Joshua doesn't. Making sure the coast is clear he moves to approach him, tattered hood down to show his face. He has remained hidden for far too long. It was now or never - he had to make his move.

"...Clive?"

Date: 2026-01-06 03:58 am (UTC)
flamebrand: sousaphone. (171.)
From: [personal profile] flamebrand
Is the separation anxiety from the slowly-fading rut, or a natural consequence of their combined traumas? Clive can't unpack that right now, lost as he is to the moment, but he settles and quiets once he feels Joshua's fingers in his hair, lulling him back into that safe space he'd indulged in when he was hilted inside of his brother.

He nods, acknowledging and trusting. For thirteen years, he's trusted nothing and no one; to do so again should feel more terrifying, but it isn't so when he's with Joshua. His mate, his everything.

"Never." A soft parroting, and he finally lets tension bleed from his shoulders. "...We'll find somewhere safe. You can nest, and I'll take care of your every need."

Date: 2026-01-06 04:29 am (UTC)
flamebrand: sousaphone. (250.)
From: [personal profile] flamebrand
"The Undying..."

A strange thing, to be speaking of Rosarian secrets. He's been under Sanbreque's boot for so long, both denying and self-denying memories of his homeland― speaking of anything that hearkens to his old life feels like a dream, intangible and unreal.

Especially right now, still riding the tail end of his intense rut. His mind is still largely scrambled, though he struggles to tame it with the questions that really matter, like how Joshua has been spending his time, if he's well, what he's been planning to do.

Clive sighs, and closes his eyes.

"...Forgive me, Joshua. I'll listen to everything you have to say, after I settle."

Date: 2026-01-07 07:30 am (UTC)
flamebrand: sousaphone. (205.)
From: [personal profile] flamebrand
Nothing to forgive. If only that were the case- there are a litany of things that Clive can think to apologize for, all of them written in blood and carved into his skull since the day the imperials dragged his limp body out from under the rubble of Phoenix Gate.

A terrible thing, that he survived. A miraculous thing, that Joshua wasn't dead. He slacks against Joshua when his brother deigns to soothe him with fingers in his unruly, dust-streaked hair, and shivers despite the heat of his rut still coursing through him, more a distant hum now than the shrill scream it'd been before.

He's tired. Exhausted, really. No worse than what Joshua must be feeling, having been accosted by the whims of a feral alpha.

Clive will apologize for it all later. Later, later, after sleep drags him down into a dreamless abyss, too spent for his brain to provide the nightmares that usually plague him.

It's a merciful void, up and until he has to wake from it. When he does, it's with Joshua still wrapped tight in his paranoid arms, sleep-numb fingers pressed to the bitemark he's left on his brother's neck.

The bitemark.

Oh, fuck.

Clive starts awake, paling as the recollections of the evening prior flood together with more coherency. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

Date: 2026-01-09 05:12 am (UTC)
flamebrand: (264.)
From: [personal profile] flamebrand
The world reasserts itself around Clive in increments. The unfamiliar walls of the Veil's modest 'guest room', the one rickety bed fighting to support both of them, the creased sheets and blankets that have piled around them to insulate warmth. With the heat of his rut now fully leached out of him, the events of the night prior take on clearer shape and form.

Panic presses against the edges of his meandering emotions, but he swallows it down; he vacillates wildly between elation and horror, but can't commit fully to either.

At the very least, he would never permit himself to shove his long-estranged brother aside, so he remains where he is- pale, with his head spinning- in bed, brushing fingertips up from the teeth-shaped indents in his brother's skin up to sleep-mussed blond hair.

"Joshua," he ventures. In case he really has gone completely mad, and he's concocted all of this in his broken mind.

Date: 2026-01-09 06:06 am (UTC)
flamebrand: sousaphone. (171.)
From: [personal profile] flamebrand
Ah. The kickback he gets from Joshua is so ordinary, so familiar, that Clive could cry about it. The same reluctance to get up in the morning, the same sluggish fussing that Clive had to soothe with cuddles and soothing touches when they were children.

It settles something seething and angry inside of him. The guilt and the mortification remain, but are dulled by the sweeping wave of affection he feels. In any and all situations, Joshua being alive will always be the blessing he counts before the curses in his inventory.

"...Alright." As he recalls the physical stress he's made Joshua endure the night prior. He thinks to check if his brother is still sickly, if the fevers and ailments of his childhood have persisted; his palm rakes over Joshua's forehead, assessing for fever or cold sweats. "Rest, brother."

Date: 2026-01-09 06:57 am (UTC)
flamebrand: sousaphone. (149.)
From: [personal profile] flamebrand
A bell is enough time for Clive's initial panic to subside, though it lingers under his skin like an errant tremor as he lays out, mentally, what he should know about his current state of being. A mated alpha now, with his brother as his mated omega; a Sanbrequois defector (Tiamat must be furious); Clive Rosfield yet again, and not Wyvern. It's a significant paradigm shift after thirteen years of having been the opposite of all of these things, but the last thing Clive wants to do is burden Joshua yet again with his mercurial emotions.

He shifts when Joshua does, and wills his nerves to steel when those blue eyes open and settle on him with still-sleepy focus.

"Morning." Insane that any of this is happening at all, but Clive manages the thinnest veneer of normalcy. "...I think."

No windows in the room means no way of knowing the time of day. Not important, though.

"...How do you feel?" He can start here, at least.

Date: 2026-01-11 11:08 pm (UTC)
flamebrand: sousaphone. (116.)
From: [personal profile] flamebrand
Joshua snatches the apology out of Clive's mouth before he can even think to make it, and his brows furrow inwards with obvious signs of guilt. There's a moment here, where it seems like he might push back and speak the forbidden I'm-sorrys anyway, but they get grit into ash between his molars a beat later.

"I... wasn't sound of mind. All these years apart, and I..."

Fuck, that sounds like he didn't want to make Joshua, which isn't the case. He shakes his head, letting unkempt bangs rustle over his face.

"It shouldn't have been like this."

Date: 2026-01-11 11:37 pm (UTC)
flamebrand: sousaphone. (248.)
From: [personal profile] flamebrand
Don't fucking cry, you dunce, he tells himself, but the familiar warmth of those flames and the clear-headed reality of their reunion once again sweeps his emotions out to sea. Tears slip from the corner of his eyes, with the consolation being that they're slightly less fraught than they were the night prior: there are signs of joy despite the shame he feels about what he's done, the all-consuming sense of relief that the single most important person in his life is, in fact, alive. Not some rut-induced fantasy he'd indulged in.

"...So you say. I hadn't dared dream that something like this would be possible."

And I fucking ruined it, is the other half of that statement, but he doesn't speak it. He doesn't want his self-hatred to get in the way of Joshua's kindness.

He reaches up, and smooths his touch along the hand at his head, down Joshua's forearm, settling it at the bend of his elbow. Reverent, adoring.

"You're alive. And I've made you mine."

Date: 2026-01-11 11:53 pm (UTC)
flamebrand: sousaphone. (73.)
From: [personal profile] flamebrand
It seems impossible that Joshua could smile so bright at him that way, after seeing how wretched and monstrous his older brother has become in the service of the empire that felled their homeland. Clive is utterly and wholly undeserving of Joshua's love and patience, but self-pity won't protect his brother― if he wants to repay his debts, he can do so by doing his utmost.

He pulls Joshua into a light embrace, then, and settles both of their weight against the headboard. Mindful of the soreness that Joshua spoke about, and making sure to absorb as much of Joshua's weight against him as possible.

"...We are. My brother, and my mate." Still surreal. He touches along the bitemark, settling his nerves enough that his tears dry as Joshua wipes them. "...How did you manage to survive? Who's been tending to you all these years...?"

Protectiveness surges in his chest. Who indeed, and have they been treating Joshua well?

Date: 2026-01-12 12:46 am (UTC)
flamebrand: (4.)
From: [personal profile] flamebrand
Right. The Undying... not just a hushed truth that his father whispered to him regarding Rosfield family secrets. Joshua had mentioned them the night prior, but his sluggish brain hadn't retained it.

More importantly: "no, Joshua. None of it was your fault. I..." Another pinch of his expression, and he bites back the temptation to apologize, yet again. "...If I'm forbidden from apologizing, so too are you. You did nothing wrong, brother."

Joshua was a boy of ten. What was he meant to do, on that night and on the nights afterwards? He must have been in so much pain, so alone in the company of what must have been strangers at the time.

"As long as you're alive, nothing matters. And from here on out, I will protect you from all the world's ills."

Date: 2026-01-12 01:32 am (UTC)
flamebrand: (【🐉】269.)
From: [personal profile] flamebrand
From... himself. The assertion doesn't quite click (and doesn't seem quite fair, in the sense that Joshua doesn't need to do anything), but Clive nods in assent regardless, unwilling to say no to his brother even over trifles.

"We'll... look towards our future, then. What we can do to stay together."

And more, possibly. A way to rebuild Rosaria, though Clive hardly feels qualified to become a Shield again after his failures and after what he'd done during his years as a Branded slave. War crimes, assassinations― again, self-loathing swirls in the pit of his gut, but he swallows it down.

"Whatever you'd have me do, I'd do it. As your alpha, everything I have to give is yours."

Date: 2026-01-12 02:23 am (UTC)
flamebrand: sousaphone. (251.)
From: [personal profile] flamebrand
They've spent far too much of their lives apart. Longer than they've spent together, which is a terrible thing to contemplate. And now they're bound together inextricably, foolish as it might have been to commit to such an intense bond at the height of Clive's madness, but Clive only regrets how it was consummated, and not that it was.

He can spend the rest of his life making it up to Joshua, as long as Joshua will have him. He feels his brother nuzzle up against his cheek, and reciprocates by ducking his head to kiss along the underside of his jaw. Appreciating the correction from alpha to brother, knowing that that designation means so much to the both of them.

"Alright."

And, well. Despite the insistence upon 'brother', alpha instincts do kick in, regardless. The need to care for and shield (ha) his omega.

"I should... fetch you a washbasin. And some food." Fussy. Some things will never change.

Date: 2026-01-12 03:02 am (UTC)
flamebrand: sousaphone. (175.)
From: [personal profile] flamebrand
I'll stay. Clive recalls, hazily, how he'd begged and pleaded Joshua not to go anywhere the night prior, and he flushes slightly at the indignity of it― how unseemly, to have made his brother worry about him. His flush gets a bit more prominent as he peels himself away from Joshua, only to see the state of him: littered with lovebites and with spend dried on his thighs from where Clive had unceremoniously knotted him only a few hours ago.

He clears his throat. Sheepish, slightly ashamed.

"I'll... also bring some salve."

For the bites. Gods forbid Joshua use his Eikon for something like this.

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Joshua Rosfield

December 2025

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