The city still smoldered in places, tendrils of ash curling into the heavy morning air like ghosts reluctant to let go of the battlefield.
Cassian sat at the edge of the bed, bare-chested, his back to the rising light. Scars traced across his skin, new burns shining red against the old tapestry of wounds that had long since faded. He did not speak. He did not move. He simply stared ahead.
Behind him, tangled in silk sheets damp with sweat and something else entirely, Riven slowly opened his eyes. For a moment, there was peace. The kind of peace that only comes after devastation.
Then the memories surged.
The fire. The siege. The blood.
"You're awake," Cassian murmured, voice hoarse and low.
Riven pushed himself up on one elbow, wincing as muscles screamed in protest. "So are you."
A beat of silence. Outside, distant voices shouted commands. The empire had survived the night—but only just.
Riven reached for him, fingers brushing the warm plane of Cassian's spine. He felt the tension there, a taut line of grief, guilt, and duty. "You stayed with me. Even after everything."
Cassian turned then, just enough for Riven to see the flicker of torment in his eyes. "There was nowhere else I'd rather be."
Riven sat up fully now, sheets pooling at his hips, the marks of their desperation still etched into his skin—nail trails, bite bruises, the dark bloom of love made in chaos. "We should talk."
Cassian shook his head. "Not yet."
He stood, fully naked, unashamed of the brokenness that adorned his body. He crossed to the window, looking down at the city. Fires still burned in the outer districts. The air tasted of smoke and iron.
Riven joined him, wrapping his arms around Cassian's waist from behind. He rested his chin on the broad shoulder. "It's gone, isn't it? What we were before?"
Cassian didn't answer.
Instead, he turned, cupped Riven's face in both hands, and kissed him. Not soft. Not gentle. It was a kiss of pain and longing, of apology and fury, of a man who had lost control of everything except this one person in front of him.
Riven melted into it, clutching Cassian's hips, pressing their bare bodies together as the kiss deepened into something desperate. Something primal.
They fell back into the bed like warriors starved for sanctuary. There was no precision in their movements, only hunger and ache. Cassian's mouth traced every inch of Riven like he needed to memorize it again—every scar, every shiver, every tremble.
Riven's hands tangled in Cassian's dark hair, pulling him close, grounding them both in this fragile, fleeting moment where only heat and skin and breath existed.
Cassian paused above him, eyes dark. "Are you sure?"
Riven nodded. "I need this. I need you."
And so, they lost themselves.
It was not the tender love they'd once known. This was fire, still licking at their edges. This was a clash of teeth and gasps, of bodies finding rhythm in ruin. Moans turned to cries. Pleasure warred with pain. It was raw, a redefinition of what they were—what they could still become.
Hours passed.
When they finally lay still, chests heaving, bodies entwined in the aftermath of pleasure and war, Riven traced a finger down Cassian's chest. "We're not okay."
Cassian caught his hand, brought it to his lips. "No. But we're alive. And we have time to fix it."
Outside, the city began to rebuild.
Inside, so did they.