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The ship rocked violently as Kassandra and Lazaros managed to bring Bennos aboard. His body was heavy in their arms, soaked in blood and dirt from the battle with Meleager. Every step they took toward the Adrestia felt like a race against time. Lazaros’s chest tightened as he saw Bennos’s lifeless form, the warrior’s strength drained after the brutal fight. He could barely stand, let alone carry himself.
"Ben…" Lazaros’s voice was quiet but full of anguish, his hands gripping his lover’s body tightly. “Hold on. Just hold on.”
Kassandra was silent as she moved alongside him, her own worry hidden behind a façade of resolve. She knew what Bennos meant to Lazaros. This wasn’t just another injury; this was the person Lazaros loved, the one who had been by his side through every trial, every danger. Losing him wasn’t an option.
They reached the ship’s deck, where Barnabas was already waiting. His eyes flickered between the three of them as he saw Bennos’s condition.
“What happened?” Barnabas’s voice was gruff but concerned as he stepped forward, ready to assist.
“We fought Meleager…” Kassandra said, her voice low. “Bennos took a few bad hits. We need to get him below deck.”
Barnabas didn’t waste a moment. He immediately moved to Bennos’s other side, helping to support him as Lazaros’s grip faltered. The ship’s wood creaked beneath their feet as they made their way below deck. There, Herodotos was already waiting, his brow furrowed in concern as he organized medical supplies.
“By the gods, what happened to him?” Herodotos asked as he hurried to meet them.
“Me-leager…” Lazaros said, his voice tight, barely able to speak past the lump in his throat. “He’s… he’s hurt. We need to fix him, Herodotos. He can’t—he can’t…”
Lazaros’s words trailed off, his breathing quickening as panic started to creep into his chest. The thought of losing Bennos, of never seeing him smile again, it was more than he could bear.
Barnabas and Kassandra carefully laid Bennos down on the cot. Herodotos moved with practiced ease, pulling out bandages and poultices, but even he couldn’t mask the concern on his face.
“Lazaros, calm down,” Herodotos said firmly, looking up at him as he began to work. “He’s alive, and that’s what matters right now. We’ll save him.”
But Lazaros couldn’t calm down. His hands shook as he crouched beside Bennos, his gaze never leaving the bloodied figure of his lover. “He can’t be... he can’t...” He clenched his fists, the feeling of helplessness threatening to overwhelm him. His heart hammered in his chest, each beat reminding him of the weight of his own fears.
Kassandra crouched beside Lazaros, her hand resting gently on his shoulder. “He’s strong, Laz,” she said quietly, her voice steady but filled with empathy. “He’s been through worse.”
“I don’t care,” Lazaros whispered, his voice hoarse. “This is different. I can’t lose him.” His hand gently touched Bennos’s face, brushing a strand of hair from his forehead. “He’s… he’s everything.”
Herodotos worked swiftly, but it was clear the injuries were grave. The blood loss was considerable, and Bennos’s breathing was shallow. Lazaros could see the growing concern in Herodotos’s face as he moved to stop the bleeding, but even he wasn’t sure how long it would take for Bennos to recover. They needed time—time they didn’t have.
“He’s going to pull through,” Herodotos said, though his tone lacked the certainty it once held. “I can stop the bleeding, but this is going to take time. He needs rest. We all need to rest.”
Lazaros couldn’t bring himself to leave Bennos’s side. His love, his best friend, was lying there, wounded. The thought of anything happening to him—of losing him—was a nightmare he couldn’t wake from. Every time Bennos’s breath hitched or his chest moved unevenly, Lazaros’s heart seemed to stop.
“Lazaros,” Kassandra said softly, squeezing his shoulder. “You can’t do this alone. We’ll all take care of him. But you need to stay strong.”
Her words barely reached him. He wanted to yell, to demand that Bennos wake up, that everything go back to how it was before. But he didn’t. Instead, he leaned closer to Bennos, his voice barely above a whisper.
“I love you, Ben,” he murmured, pressing his forehead to Bennos’s. “Please... please don’t leave me.”
Barnabas stood at the foot of the cot, his gaze softening as he watched Lazaros. He’d seen the love between the two men before, but seeing Lazaros like this, so vulnerable, so desperate—it hit him harder than he cared to admit. He’d never seen Lazaros like this, not even after the worst of their battles.
“We’ll get him through this, Lazaros,” Barnabas said quietly, his voice low with conviction. “We’ll all make sure of it.”
Lazaros didn’t look up. His eyes were fixed on Bennos, the man who had been at his side through every hardship, every trial. The man who, in the darkest moments, had kept him grounded.
Herodotos finished cleaning the worst of the wounds and wrapped them carefully, moving with precision. “He’s stable for now. But we’ll need to keep an eye on him. Fever could set in soon, and that’s when things could get worse.”
Kassandra looked to Lazaros. “We’ll stay with him, Laz. You don’t have to do this alone.”
Lazaros’s grip tightened around Bennos’s hand. “I won’t leave him,” he said, his voice steady with newfound resolve. “Not until he wakes up.”
As they waited, the sound of the waves crashing against the Adrestia became a steady backdrop to their vigil. Lazaros remained at Bennos’s side, unable to leave, unwilling to leave.
Through it all, Kassandra, Barnabas, and Herodotos stood with him—together, as they always had been. They had faced impossible odds before, but this—this trial was unlike any other. If Lazaros had to fight to keep Bennos alive, he would. Nothing would tear them apart.