Scribbles and Drabbles

Notebook Drabbles 59 - Orion and Riven 2

"Osmond is well. He isn't in the public light because he was ill and we haven't arranged for it since. I'm training him to read the Core. I'm not; I wouldn't hurt him. He's safe and happy," Riven reassured, voice tight as he controlled his annoyance. The rumours about what Riven did to his young rival ranged from chaining him in the forbidden rooms of the temple and whipping him raw every day to using him like a human pet. 

"And the rumour that he sleeps with you?" Orion said, voice low. He didn't know which rumours could be trusted and which had elements of truth to them. Magnus promised him that fate more than once. 

"Side by side, in the same bed because he gets nightmares—nothing more. It also helps strengthen his bond with the Core," Riven said, slumping in his chair. It wasn't anger in his voice; it was frustration.  "Do you think so little of me that you'd believe I would take advantage of him? He's barely 18."

"He's pretty, and people have had less reason to humiliate a rival."

"He's not a rival; he's Chosen," 

Riven's body language shifted, his head flopping forward before rolling as he sat straight. Orion's fingertips tingled. The magic strangled his throat. The seal around Riven's neck flared as the 13 made themselves known. Riven's eyes glowed as the 13 took over, and Orion bowed his head to the light. A heavy hand landed on his head, free of the pain of conflict.

"Riven has not harmed Osmond, Sol. May we show you?"

Love and truth surrounded Orion, lacing his tongue with honey and sparking pulses across his skin as the light bathed him. Orion's jaw ached, and no words came to say. He stayed on his knees, head pressed to Riven's thigh, too scared, too ashamed to meet the light. He failed. He didn't deserve the love they granted him. A low exhale filled the room with something akin to disappointment. 

"Skittish thing, we love you dearly," Riven lifted Orion's head. Riven's face smiled at him with adoration. He leaned, curling so their foreheads touched.

The world fell away as Orion lifted from the material plane and into the reality of the Core. He could have fought it, but their pressure was unrelenting. A torrent of love and concern battered against his mind and his spirit fluttered helpless in the river of it. He landed in the water, floating in its cleansing ripples as the 13 sat around him, with Riven next to him, not in the circle but on the same level as him. 

"We worried."

"You disappeared from us, but your soul?"

"It remained."

"Tethered."

"But Riven could not find a trace of you."

Orion tried to sit, but the weight of everything trapped him. "Riven won; I survived. I follow your will."

"Then why hide?" The voices merged for the word. It was more unsettling than the fragmented sentences across different tones and words. They forgot what being independent entities was like. They always spoke like patchwork, like a bad twin impression. Their words tripped into each other and over voices. 

"Reasonable," Riven said, fingers finding Orion's. Orion held them, thankful for the solid sensation. "I won. Victors are rarely kind to the defeated."

And Riven proved himself unstable several times over. He didn't say the words, but the space acknowledged them alongside the shame and embarrassment in Riven's chest. How could Orion trust Riven's words, promises, and reactions? He had been sure of the 13's response. He'd assumed anger and hate for failing to live up to the expectations of being Chosen.