Chapter 3
Archer
Archer awoke slowly, in a gradual collection of moments.
First it was the warmth he felt that confused him.
The blanket he'd brought wasn’t thick enough to fight against the elements, and the hard ground was nowhere to be found.
His body instead felt like it was on top of a cloud.
Next he realized he was sore all over, like he'd been put through the paces at the gym or something.
Considering he'd only worked out hard twice in his life and hated it both times, he couldn't see how it would have happened again.
Then he remembered. He remembered the wolf and the way his teeth bit into Archer's skin.
Remembered the way he screamed and cried, thinking he was going to die in those woods.
Had he passed?
Was this some sort of afterlife experience?
He peeled his eyes open. The ceiling was intricately designed with gold flecks and swirls of different textures. It didn't look all that heavenly. The giant chandelier especially.
He moved his arms only to come up short when he realized one of them was heavily bandaged. Next he wiggled his toes and could feel they also had something protecting them. He wasn't naked. Thank goodness. Though his clothes were somewhat ripped apart from everything that had happened.
He looked around the space as best he could without moving too much.
He didn't know where he was or what had happened.
It didn't make sense. How had he gone from laying on the ground of the forest, having been attacked by a wolf and bleeding out, to being in a comfortable warm bed in a room that looked more expensive than anything he'd ever been able to afford?
As his eyes took in the lavish furniture, the details, and the paintings on the wall, he realized he needed to find someone to get answers to his questions. Surely there was a person nearby who could tell him —
His thoughts cut off as he saw the figure in the chair beside the bed. How had he missed such an imposing presence? The man's gaze was already upon him, watching every move Archer made.
"Hello, little one," he said.
His voice curled around Archer, adding to the relaxed way he felt.
He should have been panicking, freaking out that some strange large man had brought him to this place, had wrapped his wounds, had somehow saved his life.
Where his voice broke, he cleared his throat and attempted again. "Where am I?"
The man rose from the chair and moved over toward the bed.
"May I?" he asked, pointing to the edge of the bed where there was more than enough space for him to sit without touching Archer.
Not wanting to risk his voice again, Archer dipped his head.
His arms and legs were still under the blanket, making him look like he'd been tucked in, like he was something precious.
The man eased down. "My name is Romilly Saint. I came upon you in the woods. You were injured, likely from one of the feral wolves that keep to the area. We had warned people to stay away, but I think you might not have been made aware."
Archer winced as he recalled what the young girl had said.
Romilly tilted his head like he wanted to know what made Archer make that face, yet he continued ahead. "When I found you, I had someone come help me bring you back here, where we took care of bandaging you and putting you to bed."
"Thank you," Archer said, "for saving me, for doing what most people would not."
Romilly's eyes flashed gold for a moment.
Archer had to blink several times, because he must be dreaming still.
Why would his eyes flash like that? Could it be a trick of the light?
Romilly looked angry. Was it because Archer complimented him, or because he mentioned others wouldn't do something like this?
Archer was too weak to figure it out, too exhausted and sore.
"Are you hungry, little one?" Romilly asked.
Archer thought about it for a moment, taking stock of how he felt. He had eaten at the diner before wandering into the woods, but he had no clue how much time had passed, no idea of when he had been injured versus now. "I can eat," he said carefully.
Romilly grinned. His entire face changed with the movement, making him somehow younger and adorable. "I will call for someone to bring you something. Give me just a moment."
Romilly stood, his massive form striding to the door and stepping into the hall.
Archer could hear whispered voices and exchanged words, then Romilly was closing the door behind him again and sitting back on the bed.
He moved closer the second time, as if he couldn't stand the distance between them. But that didn't make sense.
"Can you tell me more about you?" Romilly asked. "Your name? Where you came from? Do you remember anything about the wolf that attacked you?"
Images flashed through Archer's mind, memories of why he'd left home and how he'd been resting when the vicious animal attempted to take his life. "It's a long story," Archer said, partially because he didn't want to go over it.
Romilly placed his hand on the bed, right beside where Archer's arm was tucked in. He leaned forward slightly and said, "I have all the time in the world for you."
His proximity didn't scare Archer. Instead, it relaxed him further.
There was a scent around him, a reminder of old, a reminder of when Archer was younger and sat near a campfire once.
He recalled how the warmth had made him comfortable, and the scent had given him relief when he was struggling.
It was one of the few good memories he had of his younger years.
To know that it was how Romilly smelled had him ready to share, when just moments ago he wasn't going to.
He skipped past the more boring parts, like why he'd left his home, and began with his arrival in San Noctis.
"I got off the train and the young man there explained to me there was probably nowhere to rent.
He also told me the train wasn't coming back for two days, so after walking through town and finding something to eat, I decided I would just camp out in the woods. "
"Oh, no," he said as he tried to sit up quickly. His body locked up as pain surged through his bandaged arm.
Romilly must have caught the expression because in the next second he was hovering over Archer, hands at his back, easing him down.
"No need to rush. Everything is okay. I had your bags brought here."
He pointed toward the wall near the door. It was only then that Archer saw both of his bags and the blanket folded on top.
"Thank you," he rushed out. Was that all he was going to be able to say to this man, over and over?
Thank you for saving my life.
Thank you for protecting my things.
Thank you for healing me.
Thank you for caring.
So far, Romilly hadn't said Archer was too needy. He hadn't indicated that what he was was too much for the other man.
"You were saying about how you laid down in the forest to rest." Romilly interrupted Archer's thoughts with gentle prodding.
His voice was deeper, his body tense, like he didn't like the idea of Archer camping out in the wilderness.
Knowing what he did now, Archer could agree it was foolish, but he hadn't had much of a choice.
Archer licked his lips in an attempt to wet his mouth. Before he could speak, a knock came at the door. Romilly went to it and took a tray from someone. When he returned, there was a glass of water, a sandwich, and some chips.
"Hopefully this is to your liking. It's light enough for your stomach to accept right now, until we know you're feeling well enough for more."
Archer smiled softly. He wanted to say thank you again but didn't want to be repetitive.
Romilly set the tray on the bedside table, then went about gathering pillows to prop Archer up.
Once he was ready, Archer shifted like he was going to move himself, but Romilly made a humming noise, then quickly pulled Archer up from under his arms until he was angled just right.
Then Romilly grabbed the tray and set it down on the bed between them.
First, he lifted the cup of water, which had a straw in it, and brought it to Archer's mouth. Archer was too stunned to say anything. This man was taking care of him like he couldn't do it himself, like it was nothing to be there for him in ways others would never consider.
Archer sipped at the water, sighing as it coated his mouth and throat. The coolness eased some of the ache there, likely from where he had screamed his voice raw during the attack. When he was done, Archer pulled back.
Before he could, there was a moment of stillness, then Romilly was lifting the sandwich to his lips. Archer hesitated taking a bite; instead he eased his hand from under the blanket and said, "I can do it myself."
Romilly let go of the sandwich with one hand and pressed Archer's palm down to his lap. "I'm sure you can, little one, but I quite enjoy the idea of feeding you. Indulge me, please."
Archer's cheeks went pink. He knew they did because he could feel the warmth there.
And if Romilly's smile was anything to go by, the other man quite liked it.
He opened his mouth like a baby bird. When the sandwich landed on his tongue and he was able to take a bite, he nearly moaned in pleasure.
It was delicious. His stomach made a noise as if it too were shouting its praise.
Romilly chuckled. It wasn't in a mean way, more like a "wow, you're so cute" kind of way. At least that's what Archer hoped. He didn't want to find out the man who'd saved him was openly mocking him.