Everything tense in Illario begins to unwind as soon as Jim is close. As heavy as he feels, as feverish as he knows he is, pressing up into his lover's chest to hear his heartbeat. Strong despite all the fear and worry Illario has caused him. Stress and pain. He never meant for that to happen. He never wanted to make Jim cry for him.

"Will you sleep?" He asks, eyelids already drooping again, words slurring as Antivan vowels try to slip into Common words and he has to force himself to open his eyes at Jim and wait for an answer.

"I have nightmares already, amore moi." He mutters, but once more his eyes are sliding closed and he's struggling to keep his head up, sleep closing in like a winter storm around him, dragging him down into darkness.

The nightmares are horrofic. They start the same way as always. Total darkness, the only noise is screaming and then the creak as he pries the lid of the chest up a merest fraction to peer at the world beyond his hiding place. That's normally when he sees his parents deaths and the blood soaking the cot his sister slept in. Not this time. This time the dream is interupted, flashes of monsters in the darkness and the whispering of something terrible in his mind. Beyond that there is something else, something huge and incomprehensible, calling out to him, singing for his blood.

This time when he wakes, it's crying out in panic.

It takes several moments for Illario's heartbeat to calm enough for him to have a drink, able to lift the cup to his own lips and take small sips seems such a small achievement but just that has him exhausted again. He drops back into the cot, curling into Jim's embrace and sleeps, again.

Nightmares linger, the voice that whispers to him seems so loud in his head, seems to know him, but he doesn't wake in a panic now.

What wales him is a smell. Elicious, a littl rustic, but its frying eggs and meat and mushrooms. Not the sprt of breakfast an Antivan ever eats but suddenly he's starving, his stomach growling louder than a wolf.

Jim still seems exhausted, dozing with hollow cheeks and dirty clothes on- although Illario realises he's just the same. Food first, coffee if they have it, and if he can mamage it a wash.

"Bello mio," he murmurs into Jim's ear. "I'm going to see if they have coffee. You sleep a little longer."

He sits up gingerly then, sheds the ruined shirt that had been under his armour and fingers a spare wool blanket to wrap around his shoulders and heads out in search of coffee.

Evka seems surprised to see him up, but smiles broadly and expressively.

"Hungry? I know I was after the Joining." She asks, as her husband moves things around in the pan.

"Yes but... do you have coffee? For Jim?" He asks and the couple exchange glances, and Antoine speaks up.

"Just a little, I think. Do you want to make it for him?"

Illario feels a slight heat travel up his face but he manages to confirm that, and a few minutes later he's carefully carrying two chipped cups back to their makeshift bed.

"Once Jim is awake and fed. Then we can talk about anything." Illario promises her, and he is earnest in that. He needed to check on Jim, make sure he was safe and well and warm. He is hungry, yes, but he's been hungry before. He can manage being hungry for a while longer as long as his love is alright.

He knows, in a distant way, that their relationship is probably painfully obvious to everyone that has helped them. But rather than be concerned about that he's simply glad no one has forced them apart. Jim was allowed to stay at his side. If he had passed, and Jim had been forced to be away from him, Illario is certain he would come back as some sort of avenging spirit.

But he didn't pass. Jim is still where he left him, curled up so beautifully that Illario's heart swells in his chest. He pauses for a moment just to smile at the sleeping Marcher, and then slides back to settle with him on the cot. The coffees are set down of the stone floor, and Illario wiggles under the blankets woth him.

"Bello amore, beautiful beloved, do you want some coffee? I made it fresh." He murmurs, voice gentle. If Jim is sleeping too deeply to stir, then Illario won't force him. He deserves to rest. He needs to rest.

If he had drifted back to sleep Illario wouldn't have complained. He wpuld have wrapped his arms around Jim and probably gone back to sleep as well, and they'd just have to drink the coffee cold. But as it is Jim seems to jump awake with no small amount of joy and Illario laughs, full of affection.

"Amore, I would make coffee for you even if my legs came off." He promises, before he leans in to steal a kiss. "But I am... alright. I think? Whole. Alive. With you so I suppose better than simply alright."

"Mi hai protetto, vita moi," Illario says softly. "Me and the little one. That's all that matters."

He lets Jim study his arm despite the urge to pull back and hide the proof that he'd turned to blood magic again, that when the going got tough, he chose an easy way out instead of using his brain or his Crow training. He takes a deeper breath, steadying, and keeps his head tipped to Jim's, trying to take as much comfort as possible from Jim's presence.


"I didn't suffer like you did. I had the man I love watching over me. I'm not saying it did not hurt, but I wasn't alone. I was with you. Anything is bearable when I am with you." He offers, his own hands reaching up and gently touching Jim's jaw, the scruff of a day or more without shaving, the hair that stands in every direction. They probably both look terrible.