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Hadrian reached the fence around the farm’s pasture—and the border of the neutral ground—what felt like hours later.
He hadn’t heard the voices since shortly before he started out, and he considered just stopping there and hoping for the best. His back and shoulders ached from carrying the man, and his head felt light with fatigue.
But the open ground of the farm felt no better than the open ground of the plains, and he knew if they were found, no one would care about a few feet or rules. So he kept moving, putting one foot in front of the other until the first outbuildings came into view.
The moon was near full and the night clear, so he was able to see that the main barn of the farmstead was a total loss.
One side was partially burnt and completely collapsed.
There were a couple of smaller buildings that looked like they had weathered abandonment and war a little better.
But Hadrian headed to the little white house at the end of the dirt path that wound through the fields.
It was single story and small, maybe only two rooms. The porch sagged in the middle, but the roof looked intact, and only one window was broken that he could see.
He staggered up the front steps and prayed to every god he knew the door would not be locked.
He didn’t have enough left in him to go anywhere else.
When he turned the knob, he sighed as it gave easily, then cringed when the door swung in with a loud screech.
He stumbled past the shadowed shapes of furniture through what could have been a kitchen and into the next room and laid the unconscious man down on the first vaguely soft surface he came to. Then he sat down hard on the bare wood floor next to him.
Sleep called to him, but he still needed to close the door and make sure his patient was well enough to wait until morning for the rest of his healing.
He wasn’t sure what he would do if he wasn’t, but his mind was too sluggish to worry about logic at the moment.
Hadrian leaned forward and placed a hand on the man’s forehead.
His skin was cool but not cold, and dry.
In the gentle moonlight of the room's one window he looked peaceful, his long dark lashes lay thick on his full cheeks.
His short, black hair shone almost blue.
He looked young, maybe even younger than Hadrian.
“It seems both our sides are good at stealing youth,” he whispered and gently brushed away dirt from the other man’s cheek. At the touch, the man stirred.
“Of course now you would wake up,” he muttered. “Not before I had to carry you across half Eldora.”
Hadrian rose from the floor with a groan and started for the door. He stopped when he heard voices in the distance. He was distracted before he could determine the source of the noises outside by a noise behind him. He turned to find the rebel soldier shifting and mumbling.
“No, no, no,” he whispered as he went back to kneel beside him. “It’s okay. You’re okay. You’re healed and safe. But you need to be quiet.”
The soldier stopped thrashing and opened his eyes. He focused on Hadrian with some difficulty, then smiled a little drunkenly.
“You’re pretty,” he said.
“I…”
“Are you a god?”
“What? No. Listen,” Hadrian said in a harsh whisper. “You need to be quiet. There might be people outside. Soldiers—”
“You have such beautiful lips,” the man said, completely ignoring him. He raised his arms shakily and tried to grab at Hadrian’s face, still smiling drunkenly.
“No. No,” Hadrian hissed, trying to fight him off, which was rather easy given his weakened state. But the man was insistent. As soon as Hadrian let go of him, he was back to trying to touch him. “You are delirious,” he whispered desperately. “Please. You have to stop and be quiet.”
“Don’t smite me.”
“Oh, my gods.”
“You are so pretty.”
“Okay, thank you. Now shush.”
“I want to kiss you.”
“What?” Hadrian breathed. He was still grappling with the man when he heard the voices again.
“I’m telling you,” a man’s voice said very near the front window of the house. “I heard something.”
“You heard an old farmhouse creaking in the wind,” a woman huffed. “Now we’re wandering around looking for ghosts.”
The rebel soldier finally managed to get a hand past Hadrian in his distraction and yanked on his tunic.
“I want—” the man started, still staring up at Hadrian with unfocused dark eyes, and the voices outside stopped, listening, waiting.
Hadrian panicked and did the only thing he could think of. He kissed the man.
Thankfully this had the desired effect on the rebel soldier.
He immediately relaxed under Hadrian’s hands and sighed wistfully against his lips.
Hadrian tried to focus on the voices and remember that his man would likely be trying to kill him if he wasn’t delirious from wounds and fatigue.
But his lips were very soft and full, and his body, now pressed close to his, was thick and solid—
“See,” the woman’s voice said from right outside the front door. Hadrian froze, heart pounding as he tried to figure out what to do to protect them. “Door wide open and probably filled with rust,” she bit. “We done now? I want to go back to camp.”
“Yeah, yeah,” the man growled. “Could have been something though.”
Hadrian listened to them argue until their voices were swallowed by the night. Only then did he release the soldier with a weary sigh. The soldier hummed softly, rolled over, and immediately went to sleep.