Worth more than you were given

Having Ember here is an act of self definition. Erik is able to feel... like himself. He's no one's bastard, he's no one's burden. He's just a boy, living life on his own for the first time, and doing absolutely everything he can to keep his shit together. Not just his shit, anymore. His family's shit, too. Keeping everyone else's shit together was a bigger undertaking, but at least it kept him from spiraling too hard. Learning how to be himself was easier with Ember around. Like she helped bring things into focus, give them clarity.

And now she's giving him a new lease on life. Or at least, she's trying. Erik's head spins as the acidic burn snakes down his throat. It reaches deep inside him, he can feel every slip. All of it, covering his insides and singing them. Turning the war zone into a raw wound, the raw wound into Chernobyl. The gods and the trickster in his bones at war, all of it threatening to destroy him to his core. Erik fights back against it, fights to maintain his grip. Trying to prevent himself from coming undone, though it's a fight he'd struggle to win.

Steadying himself, clinging to Ember in a way that would otherwise be unheard of. Borrowing her strength for a moment. She'd already done so much, and now to sit here with him? To stay, while the horror grips him. Takes hold of him deeply, and shows him things no man should ever see. Prophetic vision, or something else. Whatever trickster, whatever demon gripped the inside of the boy, had its claws in deep. Shredding him from the inside out, but Erik refused to break. Buckling, sure. Breaking? Far worse would try. A bit of blood and drool dripping from his maw, the boy grits his teeth.

The bastard boy loses track of time. None of it seems real as he fights the feelings that roll over him. Bearing down, lest he come apart. Every bit of Erik a raw nerve, the room around him spinning. Images in the low light of the fire crashing, colliding. Every bit of him is raw, a live wire, a chemical burn. Ragged, blood dripping from his mouth, but he's alive. The first thing to come properly into focus through it all? Ember. Her grip on his face gentle, but enough to ground him. To steady him, as the last of the tremors subsided.

"I'll be your king, no mountain required." Barely coherent, unsure exactly how long he'd gone before answering her, and wiping the blood from his mouth with the back of his paw, Erik leans in for a kiss. It's sordid, and every word still hurts. Worse than before, they burn. An acidic sting that reminds him of his choices, his curse, and pinning this hope on the cure. There's no telling just how long recovery would be, but this is his rebirth. A phoenix from the ashes, rising to his reign. Entire body feeling weak, though most of the pain and shaking has gone, Erik rests heavily. He holds close to Ember, touch tender.

"Erik"