Chapter Text
Damen couldn't keep himself from staring down the canopy of the trees that separated civilization from the northern forests, wondering what exactly Nikandros had in mind when he came up with their 'wild outing'. He always thought prenuptial activities were meant to separate future spouses to remind them of their longing for one another. He did miss Jokaste—her smile, her wit, and most of all, her warmth. Politically, they made a good match.
"You're distracted," Nikandros said.
They had spent the majority of their day tracking various animals, camera in hand. So far, they'd seen nothing but birds, a couple of squirrels, and a deer in the distance.
Northern Vere was chillier than expected this time of year. Damen had layered up, with a waterproof jacket over his sweater and a beanie tucked beneath it. Nikandros wore similar attire except for the fur-lined hat on his head. Damen had laughed at him for it, but the cold was starting to get to him now that the sun was beginning to go down.
"I have a lot on my mind."
Nikandros smiled at him wryly. "Jokaste?"
"You know me too well." Damen sighed.
They continued their trek in silence as they made their way through the brush, climbing up a rocky outcrop that overlooked a stream. It was gorgeous.
A horn sounded in the distance, startling both of them. It echoed across the peaks and reverberated in Damen's chest. He glanced at Nikandros, who had an unreadable look on his face.
"What was that?" Damen asked.
Nikandros looked around the outcrop as if searching for something. He walked over to the other side of it and pointed down the stream. There were dirt bikes and quads speeding through the trees, tearing up the ground and ruining the perfect silence of the moment. They were small in the distance, but they could hear the engines roaring over the sound of rushing water.
He felt himself growing irritated, imagining how much time it would take to repair the damage they were doing to the terrain.
Nikandros leaned against the rock wall. "It's probably some locals out for a joyride."
"And here I thought you were worried about Veretian snakes."
"Adders," Nikandros said.
"What?"
Nikandros gave him a smile. "The snakes found in these parts."
Damen straightened his back as he rose, and glanced at his friend. "And they’re venomous?" he asked.
Nikandros shrugged, continuing down the stream. "Yes, but they're not nearly as dangerous as wild boars. I'm not suggesting you get near any of them. They can still kill you if you’re unlucky."
"Noted," Damen said. "I'd rather not find any snakes in these parts."
Initially, Damen had been thrilled by the idea of stepping outside his routine in Ios, away from his responsibilities as crown prince. He'd been eager to try new things, even if they posed a slight risk. The excitement was still present, but now he was beginning to feel a bit foolish. His father had always taught him to be cautious, and his training emphasized the same. He felt like a child exploring a world of unknowns without thinking of the consequences.
They reached a split in the stream where it narrowed to a point between two large boulders. Nikandros scouted ahead and gestured for Damen to follow him, where the path turned rocky and uneven. They would head back to base camp soon, but part of the adventure was seeing the changing scenery as it got darker.
It had already grown quieter, with less wildlife in sight.
As they descended through the rocks, Damen noticed a strange sound—perhaps an animal in pain. He paused, listening closely for the sound again. It was coming from the thicker woods around them, but it was difficult to pinpoint the exact location.
Nikandros waved at him. "What's wrong?"
"I heard something. Might be an animal in trouble," Damen replied. "Further down, I think."
He waited for Nik to catch up before heading toward the noise. They pushed through the brush until they reached what looked like a shallow ditch, where they found the source of the sound.
It was a man, bloody and beaten. He wore nothing, and his wrists were tied behind his back with coarse rope.
Damen froze at the sight of him. There was something familiar about the man's face, but he couldn't place it. His gaze roamed over the rest of his body, noting the various scrapes and bruises that dotted his skin. He saw the way the man's left leg stuck out at an awkward angle.
Nikandros was holding his phone. "No reception here. We'll have to call it in at base camp."
Damen crouched down next to the man, noticing the way he flinched away from them. "Who did this to you?" he asked quietly.
The man didn't respond. He simply stared up at them with wide, unblinking eyes, as if trying to convey something else with his expression alone.
He made a noise in his throat, struggling to get up on his one good leg. Nikandros grabbed him, keeping him steady.
"Easy," he said. "We're not going to hurt you."
Damen searched their surroundings for any sign of the perpetrator. If someone had done this to the poor man, they couldn't be far.
Nikandros tried speaking to him, but there was no response. Damen did the first thing that came to mind—he removed his jacket and draped it over the man's bare form.
They needed to get back to base camp as soon as possible and report the incident to local authorities. The whole thing was extremely wrong.
"I'm going to get my knife to cut those ropes," Damen said. "Can you stand guard?"
Nikandros nodded, looking uneasy. "Sure. Go ahead."
Damen found the small pocketknife he kept in his backpack and returned to the injured man's side. The terrified look on his face only intensified as he saw the glint of Damen's blade.
"Don't worry," Damen reassured him. "I won't hurt you."
He had to cut the thick, tightly wound ropes around his wrists. The skin beneath was red and raw from the chafing. He should have thought about that, but all he could focus on was how horrified he felt by the situation.
Nikandros bent down to inspect the man's leg, wincing.
Damen managed to free the man's hands, and as soon as he did, the young guy reached up and pressed one hand to his jaw.
"You can't speak? There's something wrong with your jaw?"
The man nodded, wrapping the jacket tighter around himself.
Nikandros knelt and began examining his leg. "I think I need to straighten this before we move him," he said. "I'm worried about the blood flow. It looks bad."
"Fuck," Damen whispered. He'd knelt as well. "Nik, go see if you can find anything in the forest to make a splint."
"Okay, but don't—"
"I'll be fine. Just hurry."
Nikandros looked reluctant to leave him, but he finally did, disappearing into the trees, a little further.
The stranger had some sort of metal collar around his neck. Damen wanted to take it off, but he wasn't sure if he could. He could try using the knife, but it was small and flimsy, and he wasn't certain if it would work. He didn't want to risk damaging the man's throat.
He wondered if they were dealing with some kind of sex trafficking operation. It seemed plausible, but he wasn't entirely sure. What kind of ring operated out of a forest? There were so many questions racing through his mind, none of them easily answered. All of them disturbing.
"I'm Damen, and my friend's name is Nikandros," Damen said gently. "We're going to help you, okay?"
The man blinked up at him, his eyes large and searching. He shivered, his skin pale and clammy.
"Is there an injury that requires immediate attention, apart from your leg?" Damen asked. He held his breath, bracing himself for the answer.
The man's fingers curled against the ground, his breathing growing more frantic. It was almost as if he was fighting an invisible enemy inside his head. He noticed there was an access point for a central line in the man's chest. He could just see part of it sticking out from underneath his jacket.
The stranger shook his head.
Damen watched as the man reached out, taking hold of Damen's wrist. He still appeared terrified, but there was also a desperate quality to his touch like he was seeking reassurance. Damen didn't know what to do, except offer his hand. He felt lost.
The man brought Damen's hand to the collar around his neck, gripping it tightly. He understood then.
"You want me to get it off?"
He nodded.
Damen withdrew his hand, hesitating for a moment. "I'm not sure if I can out here. Can I see?"
He showed the man his knife, and he eyed it suspiciously.
"It's okay. I won't hurt you," Damen promised.
He leaned forward and examined the lock. It was a simple one, though it looked secure. He slid the blade along the seam, and he realized it wouldn't work. Not enough room.
"I don't think this will fit. If I try, I could injure you."
The man shook his head adamantly, motioning for him to try again.
Damen frowned at him, feeling conflicted. "I'll try, okay?"
He saw the man swallow before nodding in understanding. Damen hoped that the trust the stranger had put in him was warranted. He didn't want to cause unnecessary suffering. He had seen the various contusions and cuts littering his body.
Damen slipped the blade into the narrow opening between the metal and the man's skin and applied pressure until it snagged on something. He twisted, applying even more pressure until he heard a soft click.
The collar snapped open and fell away, revealing an ugly, red mark embedded into the skin. He felt his stomach lurch at the sight of it.
The man made a relieved sound, running a finger over the ring of marks left behind by the collar. Blood trickled down his throat, seeping into the fabric of the jacket. "I'm sorry," he repeated.
He leaned in closer to examine the damage he'd caused. "Can you lift your chin?" he asked.
There was significant damage to the area where the man had been wearing the collar, scarring the skin, but Damen doubted he'd cut too deep. The damage he'd caused was the least of it.
He took a deep breath, forcing himself to remain calm. "Does this hurt?" he asked, touching the man's neck, his fingers gentle.
The young man shook his head and looked at him with wide, earnest eyes. He let out a sharp gasp as Damen's fingers brushed against the base of his neck, where the scarring was worse.
Thank you, he mouthed. His lips formed the words slowly, carefully. He winced.
"It's all right. I understand," Damen said, smiling reassuringly. "Save your strength. We’re going to treat the wounds as best I can until we can get you medical attention."
He couldn't imagine the trauma the man had endured.
Nikandros returned before he could say more, carrying several sturdy branches that could act as a makeshift splint. They had a roll of duct tape and bandages in their pack. They hadn't expected an emergency like this, but it was fortunate that they had some supplies.
"You know what you're doing, right?" Damen asked.
Nikandros looked uncomfortable. "I know he could lose his leg if I don't do this."
Damen glanced at the man, who looked like he was about to pass out. He must have been in excruciating pain.
Nikandros said, "I'm going to pull your leg back into position. It's going to hurt. Damen, can you hold his leg steady for me?"
Damen did as Nik asked, placing a firm grip on the man's thigh while Nikandros positioned himself on the other side. "Are you ready?" he asked.
The stranger gave a small nod, gritting his teeth in preparation for the worst. Nikandros offered him a piece of wood to bite down on before taking a deep breath and moving quickly to fix his leg.
The stranger screamed in agony, his voice echoing through the trees. Nikandros moved fast, holding the splint in place and taping it up tight.
"You're doing great. Stay with us," Nik told him. "You're okay."
Damen let go of the man's leg once Nik had finished, trying to keep calm. He was relieved to see that the man's eyes were open, although he was still breathing hard.
Nikandros wiped the sweat from his brow. "Now what?"
"I'll carry him back to base camp," Damen replied. "How far is it from here?"
"Less than ten minutes on foot. More if you're carrying him."
Damen nodded. "That's fine. Keep checking for a signal."
"Hey," Damen said, bending down to look at the man's face. "I'm going to carry you, okay?"
He watched as the man slowly raised his head, his eyes unfocused. His eyelids drooped.
Damen reached for his water bottle and unscrewed the cap, helping the man take a sip. "Slowly," he warned. "Just a bit."
The man drank, his throat bobbing.
"Nik, you're going to have to guide us."
"Of course," Nik replied, giving him a strained smile. "Just follow me."
He handed his backpack to Nikandros and turned back to the man. He slid one hand beneath the man's knees and the other around his back, and pulled him close, lifting him into his arms.
The man was smaller than he appeared to be, or at least thinner than Damen had expected. The shift in position made his body go rigid. Damen murmured reassurances as he steadied himself.
The stranger had his eyes squeezed shut, his mouth tight and the tips of his fingers digging into the fabric of Damen's shirt. The pain must have been excruciating, but the man refused to give voice to it or ask for help. Even though Damen could feel the tension running through every inch of the man's body.
His fingers dug harder into Damen's skin when Damen began walking. This time he moaned.
Nikandros put a hand on Damen's back. "We're not far from the path."
Damen nodded, glancing at their new companion again, trying to remember everything about the collar, about the injuries, and how best to tend to them. Another gasp came as he moved.
"I'm sorry. You're doing well. Hang in there, all right?"
Damen couldn't understand why they'd done this to another human being. How could anyone be so cruel? He knew Vere had its share of criminals, but this was something else entirely.
"Careful here," Nik warned. "Deceptively uneven here."
The man in his arms whimpered, clutching onto his jacket. Nik kept glancing back, concern written all over his face. Damen's mind was racing, his stomach in knots.
They had to get him to a hospital, and fast.
He shifted the man's weight to get a better grip and keep up with Nikandros. Damen couldn't help but notice how the man's entire body seemed to curl inwards as they moved, how he clung to Damen's shirt tighter, with greater urgency.
Damen could feel his heart racing in his chest, or perhaps it was the man's, he wasn't sure.
"Squeeze my arm if you need to, or my shoulder," Damen said, when his concern grew too much. "And please tell us if something isn't right. We're not going to hurt you. You can trust me."
The man didn't respond, but he didn't pull away, either. Damen counted it as a positive sign. He tightened his hold on the stranger, doing his best to shield him from the branches and low-hanging tree limbs and vines that came towards them, ignoring the pressure and pain building in his shoulder as he strained himself trying to make each step gentler than the last. After a few minutes of walking the man had buried his face in Damen's shoulder, muffling the sounds of his pain.
When they made it back to base camp, Nik was the first to make a phone call, pacing back and forth as he spoke to someone in hushed tones.
Damen lowered the man to the ground, propping him up against a tree. He carefully checked the man's pulse, worried he might be fading. The stranger's gaze drifted, staring blankly at the trees overhead.
Nik was still talking on the phone, sounding agitated. He hung up and walked over to them, handing him a blanket from their supply pack. Damen wrapped it around the man, whose face was alarmingly pale and covered in sweat.
"They're sending a helicopter. They should be able to land not too far from here."
"Good." Damen focused on the stranger in front of him. "You'll be okay now, I promise. They'll get you to a hospital."
Nik kneeled beside them, frowning at the man's condition. "Did you find out anything from him?"
Damen shook his head. "Nothing. I got the collar off earlier, but that's it."
Nik sighed. "This is insane. We're in the middle of nowhere. Why would someone do this?"
Damen studied the man's face, searching for a hint of recognition. The blue eyes kept staring into space. Something was haunting about them as if he'd seen too much.
They weren't safe here, that much was clear. "Did they give an ETA?" he asked.
"They said it wouldn't take long for the helicopter to get here, but the distance between the extraction point and base camp may take some time. They couldn't say for sure."
Damen rubbed his temples. "All right, we'll just have to stay vigilant until they arrive."
The stranger still looked confused, as if he was waiting for them to start hurting him, but he didn't make a sound. He looked like he was drowning in Damen’s jacket and the blanket.
Nikandros was rummaging through their backpack again, but this time he brought out a first aid kit and knelt beside him. He motioned for Damen to move, and Damen obeyed, making room for his friend to tend to the man's other wounds.
“Are you warm enough?” Damen asked.
He tried to catch the stranger's eye, but the man stared past him, his expression closed off, guarded. But Damen knew he'd heard.
Nikandros set about cleaning the cuts on his arms with disinfectant and bandages. They sat there, listening for the sounds of the approaching helicopter, the silence broken by the occasional rustle of leaves, or a bird crying out overhead.
Finally, they heard the distant hum of the rotor blades in the air.
The stranger flinched at the noise, more aware of his surroundings now. He shuffled backward, clearly struggling to get away.
"It's okay," Damen murmured. "It's the rescue team. They're going to land a little further and come find us."
Nik nodded in agreement, keeping a watchful eye on their surroundings.
"Don't try to move. They'll probably have a stretcher to carry you out," he said, his tone soothing.
The man stared at him, his gaze darting between the two of them. He was still breathing heavily as if he'd just woken up from a nightmare and couldn't remember where he was.
The sound of footsteps came from behind them, and they turned to see a group of people emerging through the trees, armed with flashlights. They looked like medics or law enforcement. Probably both, he thought.
Nikandros stood to greet them, leaving Damen to deal with their injured charge. He found it baffling—the line between fear and trust so thin and delicate that Damen had no way of knowing which side of the line the young man stood on. The stranger's eyes were sharp and alert, looking out at the world, looking for escape. The rest of him betrayed nothing of the sort. He was cautious in his movements, in control of the very few things that he could.
The paramedics approached them, and Damen intended to step aside when he felt a hand curl tightly around his wrist, preventing him from going anywhere.
"It's all right," he assured him. "You're safe now."
He felt the grip on his wrist tighten further, his fingers digging into Damen's skin.
"A clear order, I'd say," the paramedic said. "Would you mind staying close while we take a look?"
He was still staring at the hand on his wrist. "Not at all," he said, offering his most reassuring smile. "I'll stay with you until they take you to the hospital."
"That's good, sir. It seems our patient here has taken a liking to you."
"I'll stay out of your way as you work. I promise," he added, not wanting to intrude on their assessment. "Please tell me if there's anything else you need."
The paramedic smiled and gave him a thumbs-up.
Damen watched as they gathered around the man and went through a series of examinations and procedures. He let himself fall into the background, giving them as much room as possible while remaining close enough that the man knew he was there.
Nikandros approached him, resting a hand on his shoulder. "The authorities want to clear the area. We're expected to leave with the helicopter, get checked out, and meet them at the hospital for further questions. I've given them the broad strokes."
Damen nodded, his eyes still on the stranger, who looked almost frozen in place. He was fighting to remain awake, refusing to let his guard down even for a moment. The paramedics were trying to get him to lie down on the stretcher. He wasn't resisting per se, but it was obvious that he didn't want to let go of Damen's wrist.
"We're here to help you, all right?" the paramedic told him gently. "We're going to get you out of here and to a hospital where you can get proper treatment."
The man swallowed and nodded, his fingers digging deeper into Damen's skin, anchoring himself to Damen with all his strength.
Damen smiled slightly and said, "I think what he's trying to say is that you have to let go of my arm for just a moment. I'll let you cut off my blood supply again in a minute. I promise."
The man glanced at him and loosened his grip just the smallest amount. "There you go," he encouraged. "Just relax and let them do their job. I'll be right there. I won't go anywhere."
He was finally persuaded to lie back on the stretcher, where they could continue their work.
"I'm not sure which one of you splinted his leg, but good job. It's holding up nicely."
Damen glanced at Nikandros and gave him a grateful nod. "Yes, it's all his doing."
"Well done," the man said. "We're going to transport you to the extraction point now, then onto the waiting helicopter."
"Ready? On the count of three."
The paramedics lifted the man and carried him through the woods, toward the helicopter. Damen stayed right beside him, not caring that his hand was trapped in the man's tight grip. He didn't let go once during the journey, holding on through the pain of being jostled and bumped as they moved over uneven ground.
He heard one of the paramedics speak on their radio. "Patient secure. Prepare for immediate evacuation."
Damen winced when his fingers were crushed even tighter. "It's okay," he said softly. "It's over."
He couldn't read the curious expression in the man's eyes, but the tension in his body had begun to fade. The pain must have been exhausting to bear, and he was drained, worn out by his ordeal.
As they made it to the clearing, the paramedics wasted no time getting the man safely on the helicopter, before returning for the medical equipment and supplies.
He released Damen's hand only briefly, and Damen helped them settle the man on the helicopter floor, allowing the paramedics to continue to work.
"I'm going to strap this oxygen mask to your face to help you breathe," the medic told the man, but he made no move to touch him. "And then I'm going to secure you. Okay?"
Damen could see the man's reluctance, but he seemed to be reassured when Damen gave him an encouraging nod.
The paramedic waited until Damen had his hand back in the man's grasp. Then he moved to the other side of the stretcher to reach for the straps. He buckled the man into place, adjusting the straps for his size.
"Sorry, mate," the man apologized. "I'm afraid they're a necessary evil."
The man's hand was gripped tight around his, the knuckles white, but the man remained silent and passive as the medic worked around him, strapping him securely in place.
Damen met Nik's gaze. His friend held his phone against his chest, his face grim. The pilot started preparing for take-off, giving them instructions in the event of an emergency. Damen paid attention, looking down when he felt the grip on his hand loosen somewhat. The man looked asleep, his hand still clinging loosely to Damen's, as if seeking comfort in the connection. He allowed himself to smile, glancing at Nikandros and finding his friend watching him closely, a concerned frown on his face.
"What is it?" he asked.
Nikandros shook his head, "Nothing. I asked Makedon to do damage control. He'll take it from here. The last thing we need is a media circus at the hospital."
Damen nodded. It was only a matter of time before anyone realized he was in Arles. They still had the cover of darkness—or perhaps someone had already recognized him and chosen to remain professional— but it would be gone as soon as they reached the hospital. Nikandros was right, the last thing he needed was people screaming Exalted in his face.