A Ghost's Wish [MxM]

5. A Wish

Many nights had passed, and Oliver had endured the biting cold winds. He wished he could wrap his arms around himself, but the torture had already begun, and they had cut the tendons in his arms. His hands that used to hold his blades proudly lay limp at his side. His eyes focused on the sky behind bars, and he marveled at the heavens. His senses had dulled because of his pain, but his violet eye was still bright when gazing at the stars above.

Somehow, he accepted this bitter fate. It was folly to believe that man from before would promote peace, but he still held a sliver of hope that his friends, those old Generals, would be safe after his death... if they weren't dead already.  His heart seized when thinking about Draco.  He prayed he was still alive.

The cell's keys shook outside, and he sighed lightly, bracing his body for more torture. "You're earlier than expected."

However, he was greeted with silence. Oliver didn't argue or feel offended. Perhaps the quiet was better than hearing the poison tongues of the torturers.

He heard the door creak open, and heavy footsteps headed toward him. He restrained the tremble that wracked his body. He knew pain was imminent with each visitor, and he couldn't help but feel trepidation. When a hand pressed gently down on his shoulder, he tensed. But his unease turned to confusion when he did not feel anything malicious from his visitor.

He turned his head and met deep red eyes. The eyes were complicated and filled with concern. Oliver found himself smiling. "Hello, Draco. Have you come to say goodbye to this old ghost?"

Draco was alive, at least.

He was suddenly pulled into an embrace. Oliver was tall with lean muscles and a slim waist, but he felt small in the arms of a Rucrean. Draco was at least half a head taller, with broad shoulders and arms that overwhelmed him. He was truly a descendant of a dragon.

Oliver didn't fight the embrace, nor did he feel awkward. He and Draco had known and respected each other for nearly half of their lives. He felt a deep connection and affection towards the man he had faced on the battlefield countless times. So he rested in the larger man's arms and breathed a content breath.

When Draco realized that Oliver had not moved his arms, he gently pulled back and lifted Oliver's hand. When he saw the deep wounds and the lack of reaction, his eyes shook and glistened with tears.

Oliver looked down at his lame arms. "I'm sorry that I can never duel you again..."

Draco shuddered and closed his eyes for a moment. He pulled out the keys and moved to unlock the shackles on his ankles.

"No, Draco." Oliver protested quietly.

Draco stopped his actions and gave Oliver a pleading look.

"I miscalculated... Things would have been much different if I had thrown myself on the sword years ago, but now I have damned us all... So you have to be wary, Draco... Brace yourself for the coming storm."

Draco firmly held Oliver's hand and tried to motion a message to Oliver. Oliver smiled, knowing that Draco meant that they could face it together.

"If I disappear, things will be worse for all of our kingdoms... worse for you..." With the added threat of the mysterious tattooed man and the Anima Wish, he couldn't risk running away or dying carelessly. He would have to endure.

Even without these threats, he questioned whether he could continue after losing his family and arms. After everything he has seen, how could he even walk with a straight back?  He was ashamed and had lost himself in the dark pool of hopelessness. Death, although miserable, seemed to be a gift now.  When they bleed him dry, he could finally rest.