It's no crime to survive

by Do_not_touch_97

Summary:

There’s nothing to say about that. His father is right. Had he been well rested, well fed, and clear-minded, he would have been able to do more. But instead, Illuga pushed himself to the brink of exhaustion and over the edge of his power at last. Now, his body is limp and aching. There's nothing he can do or say. No way to turn back the time and correct his mistakes.
He would do anything to protect his squad. Maybe anything but the right thing.

Or,
Illuga deals with the guilt of being a survivor of two wild hunt attacks that killed his friends and family. He can handle it one more time, ammi right

Notes:

The fic is vaguely set after Song of the welking moon act 8. So after the first 'defeat' of Dottore. It includes some spoilers about the AQ.
The fic also ignores the existence of Aedon. Illuga's lantern functions on regular kuuvahki.

I also want to mention that English isn't my first language, and writing Flins' fancy-ass dialogue took absolutely everything out of me. So if you spot any inaccuracies or mistakes, you can keep 'em. I'm more than happy with this fic.

Enjoy!

The danger is gone. It has passed. All of them are safe. Illuga keeps repeating those words over and over again to himself, with increasing despair and exhaustion. The exhaustion of trying to stir his mind away from the lives he couldn’t save and the families that won’t be able to reunite. It happened under his command. Under his watch. Despite his promises to bring back every single lightkeeper.

 

Of course he knows promises like that are bound to break sometimes. But that doesn’t soothe his conscience. If anything, it makes him feel more guilty. The only way to avoid that is to throw himself into work. Even now, after most of the wild hunt outbreaks are under control again and the threat of the abyssal monsters has noticeably decreased. Illuga cannot rest.

 

He does what he does best, he tells himself, as his legs hurt and his feet ache and his shoulders threaten to slump under the weight of his heavy coat. It protects him well against the coldness of the night, but at the same time, it’s weighing him down like his own feelings have manifested as a heavy yoke on him.

 

When he finally reaches Cliffwatch camp and puts down his lantern, a sigh escapes him. He should probably go inside and lay down to rest for the remaining hours of the night. But as he looks up at the moon, he can’t get himself to.

How many people are no longer able to see this sight—how many have never seen the real moon in their lives and never will, because he couldn’t assure their safety?

 

Everyone who dedicates their life to fighting the abyss is aware of the risks that said life brings. It’s only natural that some of them will lose their life in devotion to their people. In the war against all evil and all threat against their land. Illuga is but one of those people. As a Ratnik himself, he knows about the dangers. Maybe better than most. He shouldn’t be so burdened with the nature of his job. Yet here he is.

 

Under the gentle shine of the moon, Illuga sits at a table outside and rests his head in his arms. He doesn’t want to go inside and escape his thoughts into sleep. No matter how much he would like to run away from him. It’s almost like a form of punishment for his own failings, to sit with these feelings. With his remorse and nagging guilt, circling back around to all the times he should have made a different choice. Should have been faster. Should have thought ahead.

 

He keeps staring up at the moon that keeps shining down on him like he is just as deserving of its light as everyone on this planet. Like he’s just another citizen of Nod-Krai, not someone whose responsibilities have long gotten too much for them.

That is how he ends up falling asleep. Lantern still shining next to him on the table, moon shining from the sky, his eyes slowly fluttering shut. He will have plenty more time to think about what happened in the past weeks.

 

‿̩͙⊱༒︎༻♱༺༒︎⊰‿̩͙

 

What wakes Illuga up the next morning isn’t the sun rising behind the mountains. It’s a gentle hand on his shoulder, making him flinch and jump up from his chair, stumbling and nearly toppling over. He is steadied by strong arms, keeping him up until he can stand on his own two legs again.

 

“Good morning, Young Master. My apologies for the startling wake. It was in no way my intention to scare you.”

Flins is smiling at him with his usual calmness, hand still resting on Illuga’s shoulder.

“It’s fine, thank you for waking me. Did I oversleep?” The sun isn’t quite up yet, but he has a shift early in the morning. It has been harder for him to get up before dawn and move himself to work these days. He tries not to let that show. Being a reliable leader is a virtue he cannot lack in.

 

“Not quite yet. I came just in time for your patrol,” Flins replies in his usual soft manner.

“You came for my patrol? Why? How do you even know about it? You don’t usually come around to the camp much.” Illuga readjusts his coat that slipped off his shoulders while he was asleep. It’s cold in the mornings, and his shoulders already have goosebumps all over them.

 

“I saw that your name was assigned to multiple shifts this week. Allow me to be your company, if it’s no bother. I’ve come to walk with you for a while.”

The moment of silence that follows is once again first broken by Flins.

“Do not bother with the questions your mind is conjuring up, Young Master. I merely came out of the good of my heart. There is nothing else to it than enjoying some hours of peaceful fellowship with a good friend.”

 

Peaceful? This has to be a joke. Nothing about Illuga is ever peaceful. But he doesn’t feel like arguing with Flins. If he really wants to come on patrol with him, then who is he to reject the man? Some light conversation isn’t going to kill him.

 

“Alright.” Illuga stretches his arms in a few directions, trying to wake himself up a little more, before grabbing for his lantern. When the tries to switch it on, he realizes that it’s still supposed to be on. But there is no light coming from it. Seems like it ran out over night. He’ll have to replace the batteries. To replace the batteries, he’ll have to go to the supply house. Just one look over there makes him sigh and let his shoulders slump. To his annoyance, Flins lets out one of his soft, hearty laughs, when he realizes what’s going on.

 

“We shall not come to think of you as behind on your work, Master Illuga. You can worry about your lantern when we are back.”

Illuga sends him an unamused look.

“How will I go on patrol without a lantern?” He asks, already sounding tired of this conversation. The left corner of Flins’ lips curl upwards in amusement at his attitude.

“Now now, Young master. Who said anything about going without a lantern? You still have me by your side, have you not? My lantern is good enough for two, and it will spend you some warmth at that.”

 

When Flins steps closer, Illuga is taken aback at his sudden proximity. His coat is being pulled together, one gloved finger carefully touching his neck and running over the part of his scar that is peaking out from his sweater. Before he can catch up with what’s going on, Illuga feels a familiar warmth next to him, and then his hand closes around a metal grip.

 

“Keep this close, Maser Illuga. Thou shan’t lose my heart in the dark of the night,” Flins breathes into his ear, before stepping away again. “Let us proceed, then.”

 

Heart beating double the speed as before, Illuga looks at his hand which is now holding a blue lantern, flames licking at the inside of the glass and looking even more ominous from so close than they usually already do just hanging on the side of Flins’ coat. He also notices how much he underestimated the size of the lantern. It doesn’t look this big when Flins is holding it. But he is quite a few inches taller than him, Illuga supposes. So it should be no surprise.

 

“Fine. I guess I can make due with it this one time,” he admits defeat. They take the small path towards the south of the camp, starting to make their first round through the scenery for tonight. They will walk this path many more times, today and next week and maybe for many more years.

 

It’s times like these—when the moon is barely still visible behind the clouds but the sun has yet to rise, the birds are not yet singing but the creatures of the night have already made their way back into the creases that they came from—that Illuga believes to understand why Flins enjoys the solitary life on the cemetery.

 

It’s an almost unreal kind of feeling. A liminal space; an in-between of worlds where the silence of the night is not too scary, not too peaceful. Just beautiful enough not to be maddening, but not lively enough to swallow all of one’s thoughts in a task of work, no matter how engaging it might be. Despite the awe-inspiring nature of this moment, Illuga finds himself in a bittersweet love-hate relationship with the feeling.

 

“Sir Flins?” He breaks the silence, inevitably doing something to busy his mind with.

“Yes?”

“What did you mean earlier, when you asked me not to lose your heart?”

The expression on Flins’ face is hard to see with the shadows that the blue light casts onto his features.

“Why, I was referring to the lantern, of course. It is very precious to me.”

 

Illuga watches his own steps moving along the ground for a moment while thinking about how to word the question he meant to ask Flins for so long now. It’s difficult to pin him down with the way he speaks. So articulate that one wouldn’t even notice if he really said nothing at all. It’s one of the qualities he admires about the older Ratnik, but also one he finds himself getting furious over on the occasion. For good reason, that is.

 

His concerns for Flins are not to be taken lightly. The fancy phrases and luxurious sounding laugh Flins has to offer during those moments only make him want to grab Flins by his collar and stare into his mesmerizing, beautiful, eerily blue eyes, and give him a piece of his mind.

 

“You still haven’t answered my question from a few weeks ago, Sir Flins. About your nature. Do you plan on letting me in on it, or will you leave me in the dark about it forever?”

“Would it change how you see me, if you knew?” Flin asks him back. Illuga frowns. He knows it’s a trick question. No matter how he answers it, Flins will likely have a snarky reply ready. He shakes his head.

“Does it matter? I’m not asking that question as squad leader of the Nightmare Orioles. I’m asking as Illuga. As a friend, if I dare to use that term.”

 

Flins sends him a look at that, but Illuga still can’t quite recognize it. He’ probably amused as always, for whatever reason. It really is infuriating sometimes.

 

“I believe you’ve already answered yourself the question just fine. Must I confirm it for your peace of mind?”

“It would make me happy,” Illuga answers honestly instead of paying any mind to Flins’ usual tactics. He gets a chuckle in return.

“Well, since you are so insistent on it. So shall be it. Ask away, Young Master. I vow to speak the truth, and truth only.”

Illuga is almost surprised that Flins isn’t giving him any more push-back. He waits for a moment longer, just to see of he’ll change his min, but Flins is walking quietly next to him, waiting for Illuga’s question.

 

“I believe you are not human. But I don’t know what you are. There is something about you… You and your lantern. Carrying it around feels less like carrying a belonging of yours. It’s almost more like…like I’m carrying part of you with me.”

He stops in his tracks, turning towards Flins.

“You promised to tell me the truth.”

“I did. And a Ratnik keeps their word, does he not?”

Flins turns around too, now, and his smile becomes fully visible when Illuga holds up the lantern. Instead of a verbal reply, Flins winks at him before his body turns into darkness, smoke and flames. The next moment, The lantern in Illugas hand is shining brightly, burning wildly from the inside and the outside.

 

Shrieking away, he drops the handle. To his surprise, the lantern doesn’t hit the ground. It just stays right where it is. Illuga can’t believe his eyes. The next moment, the blue fire sparks once more, black smoke escaping it and revealing Flins’ stature once more, now holding the lantern in his hand as he so often does. Like it’s nothing but an ordinary lamp, and not something he just turned into one second ago.

 

“I can tell from your face that you are quite troubled by the sight. I apologize if a visual demonstration was an inadequate way to give my answer your question.”

 

Illuga stutters a few times before shaking his head hard.

“I-I… No, it's… I was startled, that is all. Your nature is nothing that scares me. It could never,” Illuga assures. He earns himself another smile from Flins, who pats his shoulder now.

 

“You're a kind man, Master Illuga. Most humans would not take this lightly to the sight of a lantern fae shifting forms.”

“I asked, and I was ready to find out the truth,” Illuga reasons. “There is nothing odd about it. I mean, it is quite unfamiliar, and I didn't expect what I saw… But you are still Sir Flins, the lightkeeper who has saved thousands of lives and watches over the the spirits of the deceased.”

“You are too kind, Young Master. I have my own regrets, as do all of us. I can sense that your burdens are trying, these days. If you feel the need to share them with a familiar, the hour and place would be convenient at present.”

 

Illuga's gaze meets Flins’ through the darkness, surprised at his sudden change of topics. Is that the real reason why he decided to join Illuga on his patrol? Is he here just to ask questions? Has anyone else been noticing this, and sent Flins to check up on him?

 

“I can see you pondering,” Flins comments softly. “There is great trouble in your eyes.”

“It's nothing to worry about,” Illuga finally replies. He turns around and continues to walk along the usual route before stopping. He forgot that he doesn't have a lantern of his own. With a defeated sigh, he looks back at Flins, who steps closer and offers his lantern again. This time, Illuga is more hesitant to take it.

 

“Is the lantern…really a part of you?”

“It contains my life force. Should it die, like it once did, it can be lit again. But should it shatter, there would be no returning to this world,” Flins explains.

“Then you should keep it,” Illuga decides, lowering his hand again. Flins lets out a small chuckle, reaching for Illuga's hand and gently but firmly wrapping his fingers around the handle once again.

 

“I did not hand over my lantern rashly, Master Illuga. Please, have faith in my judgement.”

“This feels wrong. I shouldn't carry something so fragile around that holds power over your life. I don't want to be the one who…”

Illuga's stops in the middle of his sentence, words getting stuck in his throat. A hand is gently cupping his jaw, tenderly caressing it for a short moment before withdrawing again.

“Young Master. Please. I insist.”

 

Illuga's mouth shuts and he blinks fast. He can feel the heat on his face despite the cold air surrounding them. His heart is beating loudly in his chest, hand firmly holding onto Flins' lantern now. All he can do is turn on his heels and continue his march, trying to hide the flush on his cheeks in the darkness.

 

They walk in silence until they reach the highest point of the cliff, looking down in search for anything abnormal or threatening. But all they see is the ocean glistening under the fading moonlight and the small lights of little bugs carrying around kuuvahki energy. They look like little dots all over the place. This is familiar to Illuga. This is where he feels most at ease.

 

“You are not usually this quiet,” Flins says after they sat down together at the edge of the cliff.

“I thought you like the quiet.”

“If I was craving silence, I would have remained at the cemetery together with the dead. I came here for living company.”

 

Illuga shrugs, leaning forward to rest his chin on his hands.

“Do you never have any worries, Sir Flins? Do you never get tired of your work? Of your existence? Of the noise?”

A hum comes from his side, and Illuga doesn't have to turn his head to know that Flins' eyes are on him now.

“So that is how you feel. I see. I must ask, then. You are aware that you are under no obligation to stay here?”

Illuga is the one who lets out a chuckle now. Shaking his head, some hairs fall into his face, covering his line of vision. He doesn't bother to move them out of the way.

 

“It may not be an obligation towards an authority, but I have an obligation towards those whom I've failed. I've taken too many leisures already. Left too many of my comrades behind to fend for themselves in the past. That is a debt I can never pay off in one lifetime. But I have to try.”

 

The silence stretches for a while longer before Flins speaks up again.

 

“You know, living surrounded by shadows and memories of the past, I used to be troubled deeply with the regrets of humans who no longer walk amongst the living. Some of them are burdened with so much guilt that their souls refuse to enter the ley-lines. They keep wandering in circles, yearning for a second chance that won't be granted. You seem to be like them. Only you spend your living days with such woes.”

“Maybe I am just a dead man walking, then,” Illuga replies. It was supposed to be a joke, but Flins doesn't laugh at his words. He only keeps his gaze steady, watching Illuga as he sits unmoving, wind messing up his hair.

 

“You worry me, Young Master.”

“My apologies. Maybe you shouldn't have come to dig out a corpse you weren't ready to find.”

 

Flins lets out a small sigh. His lantern flickers in Illuga's hand. It draws his attention. The lantern is giving off warmth, but it's not burning hot despite the flames lapping at the glass from the inside. Illuga tilts his head, curiously touching the lantern right where the flue flames are flickering against their enclosure. When he does, he is overcome with a rush of emotions. Sadness. Worry. Yearning. Something akin to love. It's so strong and present, but not at all overwhelming, filling his chest and coursing through his body until it fills every last corner of him. With parted lips and widened eyes, he looks over at Flins.

 

“Would I be correct to assume that you can feel it?” He asks. Illuga only nods. “Humans are more difficult to read and understand. Their complexity has remained mysterious to me for centuries. But I hope that in sharing my own experience, you may at least better understand my intentions. I mustn't be remembered as one who didn't try.”

 

“Is that…why you wanted me to have the lamp?” Illuga asks carefully.

“That, and I trust you to guard it.”

“If I could just let you touch my heart and show you how I feel, I'm not sure I would let you,” Illuga mutters, still holding onto the lantern. He's cradling it in his hands, like something fragile that could break under the smallest amount of pressure.

 

“You feel warm on the inside…” Slowly, he brings the lantern closer to his chest. When he finally embraces it with his arms, it feels as if the flames are burning right inside his chest, all around his heart. Flaring up and dancing around, letting new feelings explode everywhere inside of him. It's addicting. It's terrifying. Illuga isn't sure what exactly they mean, but he has never felt such love before.

 

He hasn't been abandoned, he hasn't been rejected, but still, he never felt like he really belonged anywhere. Every time he joined a new squad of lightkeepers, he ended up with new wounds. Both on the outside and the inside. He took on responsibilities early. The expectations placed on him as adoptive son of the Starshyna have always been high, and the guilt of his past even higher.

 

He once belonged to a village, a family, a place he called home. Since the day of the disaster that killed all of them, he hasn't really belonged anywhere. The only constant in his life were his enemies—the wild hunt that has taken his home from him. His life as he'd known it. So why, after so many years, does he find that feeling of belonging inside a blue flickering lantern? Why inside these flames, out of all places?

 

Illuga didn't feel his body curling around the lantern. He only opens his eyes again at the soft touch of a hand on his back, resting over his coat and grounding him again.

“It's quite alright, Young Master. I am aware that this work is more than an occupation to you. I am bringing it up merely out of concern for you. No man or woman should live indentured by their past.”

“The only way out is to stop living,” Illuga replies, eyes squeezing shut again. “And that is no way to go.”

 

“I am relieved to hear that.”

Illuga doesn't say anything to that. There is nothing to say about it. He doesn't feel like thinking about it right now. The purpose of his life is now to make up for his past. If there ever was ever a destiny for him before fate decided to take everything from him, he doesn't know. There's no way to find out.

 

The lantern in his arms is the only comfort he feels in this moment. It encompasses him and spreads warmth through his body and mind that he hasn't known in years. He doesn't want to let go of it anymore, now that he can feel it. Only when he is reminded that it really is part of Flins he is holding onto, he comes back to reality slowly.

 

“What is it that I'm feeling?” He asks quietly.

“You are just sensing my feelings through the flames,” Flins explains. “What you feel is what I feel at present.”

“You feel…soft,” Illuga says.

“Soft?”

“Yes.”

Flins smiles softly.

“I am glad that my adoration and care please the Young Master.”

 

Illuga is about to reply, when the warmth filling him suddenly freezes and turns ice cold. He snaps his head towards Flins, who jumps up from where he was sitting until now.

“Wha—”

“I heard something.”

 

Illuga let's go of the lantern. It almost hurts now, this close. It makes him even more tense than usual. As he loosens his grip on it, Flins reaches out, and the lantern flies right into his hand. Illuga gets up too now, looking around.

 

“There is something at the coast.” Flins doesn't wait for a reply before making his way down, Illuga following right behind.

 

“If the wild hunt is showing up, we need to—”

“We will take it out,” Flins states with zero doubt in his voice.

“We're only two men,” Illuga argues.

“You forget that I usually work alone, Master Illuga.”

That is convincing enough.

 

They arrive at the coast, and really, an abyssal rift is glowing through the fog. Monsters are crawling out of the purple cracks, growling and groaning. They don't have to speak a single word.

 

Fighting the wild hunt is never easy, but both of them are experienced warriors. Even though they haven't fought side by side before, Illuga can feel the way they move in rhythm. Back to back, never leaving the other out of sight. When the last monster falls, Illuga slumps to his knees.

 

“Did you get injured, Young Master?”

Illugs shakes his head. He doesn't want Flins to see him shaking, but it's unavoidable out in the open.

“You are trembling. Are you sure you haven't—”

“I'm just tired,” Illuga cuts him off.

“And when did you last have anything to eat?” Flins asks. When he gets no reply, he steps closer to Illuga and helps him up again.

 

“Let us return to the camp. You do not possess the strength to stay on patrol. You should rest and have a good meal in the morning.”

Illuga wants to resist, but he can only let himself get dragged back to the camp, too exhausted to put up a fight. The scenery passes slowly next to him, until he can't drag his feet forward anymore. Instead of the pity that Illuga half expects from Flins, he is simply picked up by strong arms and carried the rest of the way.

 

When his body meets a soft surface, his eyes flutter open again.

“Someone has to stay on patrol,” he mutters.

“I will be ever attentive of the surroundings, Young Master. Worry not.” Has Flins' voice always been this gentle? He's not sure. All he knows is that he can trust this man's words. He would trust his life into the fae’s hands if he had to.

 

“Can I feel it one more time?”

Flins tilts his head.

“What do you wish to feel?”

“You.”

It's quiet for a moment, then, there's a sound of rustling. The lantern is removed from Flins’ coat and placed down on the mattress in front of Illuga. Wen he places his hand on it, the effect is immediate. Warmth courses through his veins and fills his entire body with love. There is some amount of worry in it, too. But it's overpowered by a strong feeling of admiration. He feels cherished. Like he has meaning. Like he is someone important—someone irreplaceable that he cannot see by himself.

 

With that newfound warmth in his chest, Illuga finally falls asleep. For once without his familiar dread.

 

‿̩͙⊱༒︎༻♱༺༒︎⊰‿̩͙

 

“Ah, Master Illuga! Been looking everywhere for ya!”

Illuga almost topples over when Varka’s hand meets his back in a harsh friendly greeting.

“A-ah, yes? How can I help you, Grandmaster?” He doesn't need to mention that he just woke up moments ago. He hasn't slept this well in a long time, even if it was only a couple hours.

 

“We just received mail from Modstadt. Our expedition team is about to return home, and we don't wanna go without a proper goodbye. Y'know, after we fought side by side against our enemies. A true knight knows to treat his friends when the time of celebration has come. It's an invitation! Whaddo you say?”

 

“You're leaving the camp? This came faster than expected. Of course I'd like to celebrate with the knights. It's just… there is much to do and little time. But I will inform the other lightkeepers and make sure that those who have the time will attend your parting celebration.”

“You're not coming?” Varka frowns at him.

 

“Someone always has to stay behind when others amuse themselves,” Illuga reasons. “As leader of the squad team, that responsibility naturally falls onto me. I will be keeping watch at the camp while you celebrate.”

“Hey, it's not always on the leader to do the work while the team has fun. That's not how it works. You also need to take a break every now and then.”

 

Illuga gives his best smile, nodding at Varka's comment.

“I know. I'm not neglecting myself. But I’ll still have to pass this time. I'm very sorry, Grandmaster.”

Varka sighs heavily, crossing his arms in front of his chest.

“Alright, kid. Whatever you say. It's a shame, really, but I understand. Don't feel bad about it.”

 

“Master Illuga, there have been more sightings of the wild hunt near Kipumaki cliff! Two troops already went to deal with it, but they haven't returned in hours!”

Illuga's face pales at the news. He had no idea about the sightings, nor that two troops went after them.

 

“Who sent them?” He asks, maybe a little too sharply.

“N-no one, Master Illuga, the troop that encountered the rift called for backup…”

“We have to find them. Now. Call a small team together, we have to find all nearby troops for help.”

He can't just lose two entire troops in a dangerous place like this. His promise to take better care of himself forgotten, he forgoes breakfast once again. It can wait until this catastrophe is taken care of.

 

The job as a lightkeeper requires a lot of walking, meaning that building stamina is a natural part of it. And even though the way towards Kipumaki cliff is not the longest one, Illuga can feel exhaustion in his bones with every step he takes. It doesn't matter right now. He can rest once he is sure that none of his squad members are in danger anymore.

 

They arrive at the location where the rift was reported. There are signs of a fight having taken place, but no hint of any living survivors anywhere.

 

“Look for footprints. Weapons. Pieces of clothing. Anything pointing towards where they could be,” Illuga commands. They spread around the area, investigating the place. When someone shouts, he hurries over immediately.

 

“There are footprints on the ground, it looks like there were both Ratniki and monsters going this way.”

“Let's follow them,” Illuga decides.

“Why would the monsters retreat?” Levonty asks, looking at Illuga for insight. He personally hasn't been on the battlefield too many times.

“I doubt they did. Monsters don't fear humans, they'll fight them to death. There must've been something else that caused them to retreat. I'm not sure we want to find out what it was.”

 

Illuga let's out a heavy breath before walking in the direction the footsteps are leading. It really is odd that the lightkeepers supposedly left together with the monsters. It makes no sense.

 

They follow the only path leading up the cliff, all the way, until the normal path ends. In front of them stands a slothsheep—eyes dark purple and the ball of concentrated kuuvahki energy between its horns throbbing with abyssal energy. The slothsheep is ramming its horns continuously into a big rock. On a second look, Illuga notices that one part of its horns has broken off and fallen to the ground. But it’s still going, relentlessly putting its entire weight into each thrust.

 

“It's corrupted,” Illuga observes, slowly stepping closer. He knows a corrupted animal can be dangerous, but the slothsheep doesn't seem interested in him currently. It appears to be fully focused on its own self-destruction.

 

“What do we do about this?” A ratnik asks, stepping next to Illuga.

“I'm not sure. We should clear up the abyssal corruption from it. Maybe it can be helped.”

Just as he turns around to find any source of kuuvahki, a groan emits from a crease of the cliff, and out stumbles a Ratnik, his clothes ripped up on one side.

 

“Valdis!” Levonty calls, relieved to see the fellow lightkeeper. But Illuga slams his spear into the ground in front of him, keeping him from getting any closer.

“Don't. He's been corrupted.”

Levonty freezes, eyes widening as Valdis—or whoever he has now become—lets out a gurgling noise that sounds like an agonizing scream drowned out by water. As if his voice can't come out anymore.

 

He falls to his knees, staring at Illuga, who is ready to strike at any moment, should Valdis try to reach for them. But he doesn't. He grips his own throat instead, coughing and gagging. It looks like he is choking on his voice, drooling onto the ground, all while never breaking eye contact. To call the sight is horrifying would be an understatement.

 

“He looks in pain,” another Ratnik says. And she is right. Illuga has to decide if they can heal the corruption, or if they have to eliminate Valdis. It has to be one of the two, they can't leave him here in this state. But he doesn't get enough time to think of anything.

 

Before his eyes, Valdis drops onto the ground and rolls over in his back, clawing at his chest. He is coughing up dark goo from his mouth—it has a blood-like structure, but it's too dark to be blood. It radiates abyssal energy, and it just keeps flowing. Out of his mouth, then his nose, and even his eyes. Illuga feels his stomach churning at the view. He feels like he's gonna throw up.

 

That's when Valdis’ hands finally find grip on his chest after the clothes have been teared apart, and to the horror of everyone present, his fingers dig into his chest and begin to rip open his own rib cage.

 

Illuga can hear the screams of the other lightkeepers, many of them turning away to avoid the sight unfolding before them. But he can't look away. He is completely frozen as he watches abyssal energy burst forth from the man's open chest and flow everywhere. Where it meets the ground, cracks appear. Purple light shines out. Black. Darkness. A claw appears and grabs onto the cold ground. Valdis' corpse is forming a new rift.

 

“It's the wild hunt! Kill them all!” Illuga shouts, getting the attention of the Ratniki back. Startled by the sudden yell, they react without thinking. Monsters start to crawl from the ground one by one, and the killing of every one of them comes to Illuga so naturally, he barely has to think. It's autopilot how he does his headcount once the monsters lie defeated on the ground. How he makes sure he hasn't lost a single one.

 

“We need to find the other Ratniki. If they've all been corrupted, this could be fatal.”

 

‿̩͙⊱༒︎༻♱༺༒︎⊰‿̩͙

 

If Illuga were to be asked to name the worst day in his life, today probably wouldn't be the one. He would likely name the day that his village was destroyed by the wild hunt, rendering him an orphan. The second place would surely go to the day that Olsson sacrificed his life to let Illuga and Ivar make an escape from the wild hunt attack that killed hundreds in one night. But if he has a third place to fill, then today might not be too far fetched.

 

They fight until dusk breaks, leaving broken weapons and shredded coats on the way through the cliffs. The rifts seem never ending. After every group of monsters they kill, a new one shows up right around the corner. It's as if they are growing, infecting the area like a cancer.

 

By the time that night comes around, Illuga ordered everyone to return to the camp. They need to hold watch tonight, but fighting the wild hunt without the sunlight on their side would be too big of a risk to take. No one should have to fight through the night.

 

He is sitting next to a big fire now, finally getting a bit of food in his stomach. He looks around, doing yet another headcount. He's not sure how many of them he did today—he stopped counting that. His eyelids feel heavy. How nice it would be to just slump to the ground and fall asleep for a while. But he is on patrol for the first shift tonight, so he can't. Not yet.

 

With a sigh, he gets up. If he keeps sitting around, he'll pass out before he knows it. That would be embarrassing. He decides to walk towards the edge of the camp and stare into the night. He can see it from here. The wild hunt spreading all over the place. He keeps trying to figure out what caused this.

 

The abyss isn't a virus. It doesn't infect people like this. And even when it did in the past—all it did to them was make them fight one another. Act like monsters. This here is different. People who are infected turn into new rifts, letting more monsters flood the cliffs.

 

Someone or something must have an intention with this, and he has no idea where to start looking.

 

Suddenly, he sucks in a harsh breath. Flins. Flins always fights on his own. And he also fights at night. Illuga turns around and runs back to the fire. Not today. He has to warn him.

 

“I need a small team of men with me to go back into the cliffs. Sir Flins hasn't been informed about what happened yet, and he might be out there getting himself into danger.”

Worried looks meet each other, and a small group of volunteers is easily found. Even though Flins prefers a life of solitude, he is still a Ratnik, and thus, they will not leave him to fend for himself in a time of need.

 

Illuga was hoping to get a little bit more sleep tonight, but he can forget about that now. Sometimes, Flins stays over at the Fatuis’ Design Bureau, taking care of the wild hunt there. But when more rifts appear elsewhere, Flins won't be far.

 

With his lantern tightly in his grip and his spear in the other hand, they make their way towards the cliffs again. Their plan is to avoid running into the wild hunt tonight, so they're all quiet as they ascend. Illuga stops eventually, turning around.

 

“Let's spread out and look for him. If anyone encounters a wild hunt rift, retreat immediately and call for help. If you find Sir Flins, inform him of today's happenings and tell him to retreat for the night. We meet again at this place in an hour.”

 

With that, the Ratniki start to go into different directions. Illuga has an uncomfortable feeling, letting them all go on their own. But it's a big area and Flins could be about anywhere. If they go together, they can search the whole night and still miss him.

 

So he makes his own way deeper into the cliffs, climbing up further. Flins would likely be somewhere the wild hunt is, too. Fighting them in the dark of the night as he is used to.

 

It's kind of ironic, that he is looking for the man again after last time. Flins saw him weak and vulnerable, and here he is, searching Flins to protect him from danger. He is not the one who saves other people. But every single day, he tries to be. Did he ever actually save anyone's life? He won't know unless he fails. That's the cruelty of his job.

 

He walks through darkness and fog, lantern raised high just in case. There is an eerie silence surrounding him. It's almost too quiet, given the fact that the wild hunt should be anywhere he looks. Somehow, he can't hear a single thing.

 

“Watch out!”

Illuga whips his head around just in time to dodge away, stumbling backwards as he watches a blue spearhead cut through the head of an abyssal monster. It drops to the ground, and a hand emerges from the darkness, gripping the spear and pulling it out of the bleeding corpse. The next thing he sees is a pair of glowing blue eyes before Flins' silhouette appears before him.

 

Illuga lets out a small breath of relief. He fell over a rock earlier, sending him flying to the ground. If it wasn’t for Flins, he would’ve had a hard time fighting off the monster from below.

 

A gloved hand is extended to him, and Illuga allows himself to be helped up. Before he can say his thanks, Flins grabs his shoulder and glares into his eyes.

“Why are you alone?”

“I’m not alone,” Illuga replies. “I came here with others—”

“Then where are they?”

“They’re all nearby, I know where to meet them, it’s all—”

“This area is not save, Young Master. You should not be wandering by yourself. No one should,” Flins says strictly.

 

“That is why we are here,” Illuga finally manages to say. “I came to warn you.”

“Me?” Flins frowns.

“You. Because you’re out here all alone. There have been more Wild Hunt outbreaks today, and they’re spreading like a wildfire. You shouldn’t be here. We came to find you and get you to find shelter over night.”

 

Flins expression soften slightly as he hears Illuga’s words.

“Young Master. You know that I do this night in and night out. Worry not for my sake.”

Shaking his head, Illug grips onto the fae’s arm.

“Go home tonight. Please. The wild hunt has been corrupting lightkeepers and using their bodies to open new rifts. They’re not getting any less, no matter how many of them we kill. I fear that more lightkeepers have gotten corrupted while fighting the abyss than monsters have been killed today. I don’t know how this is happening, but please…find refuge tonight. Don’t go out there. I’ll host you if you don’t want to go back to the lighthouse. Please, Sir Flins.”

 

“Are you so desperate that you must beg, now? If only for your peace of mind, I would have obliged at your first request, Master Illuga,” Flins replies. “I give you my promise, I will make my way back home and remain at the lighthouse till sunrise, if you vow in return that you will rest tonight, too.”

“I will.”

Flins’ hand comes up to his face now, cupping his cheek just long enough to caress Illuga’s cheekbone with his thumb.

“Allow my to escort you back to your comrades before I leave, Young Master.”

 

Illuga swallows hard. The hand leaves his face, and his jaw trembles lightly. Every time Flins touches him, he realizes just how starved his is for that warmth. The comfort of another person’s gentle touch on him. And oh, Sir Flins is so gentle with him. Like he’s touching a wounded animal that trusts no man, Flins manages to win him over time and time again. And Illuga can feel himself yearning for his warmth more and more with every time he gets a taste of it.

 

Breath stuttering lightly, Illuga nods. He can’t give in to the craving—the urge to pull Flins in closer and have his arms wrap tightly around Illuga’s body. Holding him so close that he’ll feel like a real person again. He wants to admit how badly he needs that. To be touched, caressed, loved.

 

Instead, all he brings out is a strained, “let’s go.”

 

‿̩͙⊱༒︎༻♱༺༒︎⊰‿̩͙

 

Fortunately, the entire troop had found its way back to their meeting point. Flins had promised once more that he would go straight back to the cemetery, and then they parted ways. The Ratniki descending towards the camp again, and Flins making his way back home.

 

Illuga held his promise to lay himself to rest upon his arrival. The entire next week, he spends every waking hour on his legs. Restlessly, up in the cliffs, fighting monsters. Fighting his one and only enemy, the Wild Hunt. He can’t think about anything else. He gets up, he fights, he passes out at night only to repeat the process again the next day. No moment is spent wasting time on anything that’s not absolutely necessary.

 

It’s after five days of nonstop battle that he runs into a troop of knights on one of his expeditions. Didn’t Varka say that the expedition team wanted to return to Mondstadt?

 

Apparently, they had planned to leave, but then decided to stay after finding out that the Wild Hunt is striking again. Illuga can’t believe what he’s hearing. After realizing that the Wild Hunt found a way to corrupt humans in battle with them, Illuga ordered the Ratniki to leave in bigger teams that have higher chances of survival against the monsters or whatever they should encounter. But here these foolish knights are, roaming the cliffs in groups of three. He’ll have to talk to Varka about this as soon as possible.

 

But Illuga doesn’t get that far. On their way back to Cliffwatch camp, a group of monsters attacks them unexpectedly. They’re prepared for such incidents, of course. They’re out here fighting all day. These monsters should be no trouble. But they are. Because it is the man who dares to underestimate the abyss who is struck down by it.

 

Illuga’s voice echoes through the cliffs as a Ratnik goes down, screaming out his soul as he helplessly swings the end of his broken spear at a tall, glowing monster. He never stood a chance. Illuga can’t see anything anymore. Everything is blurry, black and purple swirling in front of his eyes as he brings down the monster. He is too late. Too small. Too weak.

 

The monster falls, and Illuga scrambles towards the lightkeeper.

 

“Hold on, hold on for me,” he slurs out, not knowing if the man can still hear him. He tries to assess his state, but everything is still blurry and hazy. Hands moving over the lifeless body, he tries to find the injury. Maybe he can rip off some fabric from his clothes and stop the bleeding. Maybe he can still save his comrade. They only need to bring him back to the camp and it will be fine.

 

But Illuga’s movements stop the moment his hand touches blood. Carefully, he feels around. This is no little injury. It’s not a bleeding arm or leg. It’s a giant hole in his chest, and when Illuga’s hand touches something soft and gooey, he lets out a scream, pulling his hand away. The only thing he can see is blood. On his trembring hand, on his coat, on the floor.

 

“Master Illuga—”

The voices blur around him, and when someone touches his arm, he only knows how to swing his fists and scream. This can’t be happening. It can’t. He’s really like a wounded animal now. Baring his teeth at anyone who comes too close, scurrying away on all fours. Worried looks are on him, and all he wants is to hide in darkness, never to be seen again.

 

He failed. Again. That should have been him, is all he can think. He should have fallen. Not those innocent men.

 

 

Illuga has no idea how he got back to the camp. When he wakes up, Nikita is sitting near his bed, filling out papers at a desk.

 

“You up, son?”

A stinging pain in his side reminds Illuga of his earlier whereabouts. And that they lost a member again. A member under his watch. One that he should have protected with his life.

 

Tears burn in his eyes, but he forces them away with a few blinks.

“I’m sorry, Father. I’m sorry, I don’t deserve this position.”

“Don’t speak like that.”

Illuga turns his head away when Nikita gets up, making his way over to the bed.

“You overdid it, Illuga. You overexerted yourself. I’m not angry at you for the loss we’re all feeling. I am disappointed that you didn’t know when to stop and take care of yourself.”

 

There’s nothing to say about that. His father is right. Had he been well rested, well fed, and clear-minded, he would have been able to do more. But instead, Illuga pushed himself to the brink of exhaustion and over the edge of his power at last. Now, his body is limp and aching. There's nothing he can do or say. No way to turn back the time and correct his mistakes.

 

He would do anything to protect his squad. Maybe anything but the right thing.

 

“Stay home for now, Illuga. I want you to recover fully before going anywhere else. Do I have your word?”

A few beats of silence pass before Illuga nods. Then, he turns to look at Nikita again.

“What did they do with him?” He asks weakly.

“His body lays covered in the tent at the edge of the camp. If you really want to, you can go say your goodbyes later. We will bury him tomorrow.”

Illuga nods again, too weak to reply. His mouth is dry and his limbs won’t quite do what he commands them to. So instead of fighting it, he lets his eyes fall shut again, sighing from exhaustion.

 

“Rest now, son. You’ve already given it more than you had.”

A hand comes up to his chest, tucking him in once more. Then, footsteps slowly leave the room, the door closing gently, and he is alone. But the voices of guilt and remorse never leave. They only rejoice at the silence and fill up his head.

 

Illuga imagines his troop in front of him. He does a headcount. One, two, three, four, five, six. They’re complete. One, two, three, four, five, six. Still complete.

Memories flood his brain, flashes of images. Blood everywhere, screams, dull sounds of wood hitting against a firm body. A spear burying itself in a body of darkness and despair. Abyssal energy seeping back into the ground, disappearing only for the time being.

 

They’re only five, now. Five Ratniki and him. ‘Leader’ of the squad team. ‘Master’ Illuga, who loses one member after another, all because he is such a mess. Because his determination is born of failure, and his will grows on despair. Breathing becomes harder. His throat is tight, chest heavy. He tries to shake the thoughts away.

 

One, two, three, four, five, six. He can see every face before his mind’s eye as he counts them. Six heads. Six living men. He is lying to himself. He should face the truth, not keep feeding his delusions like the coward that he is. But it’s the only thing that seems to keep him sane—that stops him from spiraling out of control. So he counts. And counts again. And again, and again, until sleep finally takes him back.

 

‿̩͙⊱༒︎༻♱༺༒︎⊰‿̩͙

 

A yell rips Illuga out of the sweet embrace of his dreams. He’s note sure if he would rather be haunted by his memories in his dreams or awake, but it doesn’t matter when he catches onto more yelling.

 

Within seconds, he’s on his feet, scrambling for his clothes. He can only find his sweater and coat, no sign of his pants. Damned be it, he has to see what’s going on. At least his spear is leaning next to the door-frame. He grabs it and pulls his coat closed. No one needs to see his bare thighs out there. But in case of emergency, it really doesn’t matter.

 

He stumbles outside, feeling restless. His chest is tight, but for some reason, he’s not freezing like he should outside in the cold, not wearing his pants. When he looks around, he finds himself standing in front of his old place in Piramida. Was he brought here? Did Nikita decide that he is no longer worthy of his position as a Ratnik?

 

There is not time to ponder on that, because before his eyes, the ground opens, and abyssal creatures crawl out and into the open. They move eerily and seem to shapeshift, moving closer and closer together as they start to merge into one, giant creature. It towers over him, roaring and showing its claws. But what terrifies Illuga more is what follows the creature out of the rift. It’s the lightkeeper he lost in battle today. His face is morphed into something unrecognizable, and he doesn’t look quite human anymore, but for some reason, Illuga knows it’s him.

 

“Why have you abandoned me?” He former Ratnik groans, crawling towards Illuga on all fours. He tries to run, but his legs won’t move. Where he was holding his spear done moment ago, he suddenly sees his lantern instead, but its usual golden light is replaced by blue flames.

 

“Come home to me, Master Illuga,” the lantern seems to tell him. “Come home. Your place is here on the cemetery, where you can spend your days yearning for the touch of the dead.”

 

This is absurd. How is Flins talking to him through the lamp? This is his lamp, that Illuga took with him earlier. Or is it?

“The ghosts are crying out your name, Young Master. They crave to watch your unloved heart bleed. Come home to the cemetery and return to the ley-lines. No living being could love a flawed man like you. Not your parents, not your squad, and certainly not me. You disgust me.”

 

Illuga can’t breathe anymore. The screams outside are getting louder again. He’s confused, looking around. He is already outside. Why can’t he see anyone? Why is no one around? Where did the monster from earlier go?

 

 

With a gasp, Illuga’s eyes snap open. He sits up, drenched in sweat, looking around. The screams. The screams are real.

 

He rolls over to the side and falls to the ground in an attempt to get up. The stinging pain in his side makes it impossible to move fast. He holds his waist with one hand, searching for his clothes with the other. It’s dark in the room, and he doesn’t know where he left his lantern, so all he can find is his sweater and coat.

 

“Get it together, Illuga. This isn’t a dream,” he groans through gritted teeth, ignoring his pain as he pulls the coat tighter. He thinks for a moment, trying to remember if he saw his spear somewhere earlier. When he can’t remember it clearly, he sighs and limps towards the door. The spear is leaning right next to the door-frame. Ridiculous, he tells himself. It’s a coincidence. His dream was stupid—no abyssal monster the size of a house is going to be outside. But the fear still makes him feel paralyzed, even as he pushes the door open and steps outside.

 

He expects the cold wind to hit his legs and make him freeze, finally breaking out of this weird deja vu he is caught in. But no such luck. He feels almost burning hot. But there’s not enough time to figure out why that is, because the sight in front of him makes him freeze. The wild hunt. It has spread through the camp, lightkeepers running around, banging on doors, yelling commands loudly as they fight for their lives.

 

“Damn it,” Illuga swears, gripping his spear tighter. He doesn’t think about his actions. He never thinks when it comes to this. Ever since he swore his oath, he hasn’t been thinking about anything else anymore in his life. To rid Nod-Krai of the Wild Hunt is what he lives for, and it will be what he dies for, one day. He’s made peace with that thought a long time ago already.

 

“Illuga!”

A monster goes down before him, two more attacking from the side.

“Illuga!”

He can’t turn around to see where his father’s voice is coming from.

“Illuga!”

 

A he is ripped away, and Nikita stands before him, bringing a fast end to the creatures that nearly brought Illuga to the end of his power just a moment ago. When Nikita turns around to look at him, it’s like he sees and hears everything through a dull layer of fog. His head is spinning. Is this still real, or is he dreaming again?

 

“You have to leave. You can’t fight here. You’re too weak. Go!”

Illuga shakes his head. He gets up slowly, weight resting on his spear.

“I fill fight…”

“Illuga. This is a command.”

He tries to speak, but he can’t.

“Go. Save yourself. We need survivors.”

“I— I can’t lose my family again…”

 

“You’re not a coward for running, son. You’d be an idiot to stay. Go where you know you’re supposed to be. Go where your place is, Illuga. You know where you belong. Now!”

 

 

Damn him for having left his lantern at home. He’s not wearing shoes, nor pants. Every time he stumbles over a rock, he falls to his knees, bruising them badly. There must be cuts on his legs by now, but he can’t see or feel it bleed. He can only run forward until he reaches the coast. He’s made this way a hundred times, and he can make it again.

 

The small boat is pushed into the water, and Illuga uses the little strength he has left as he rows. On and on and on, until he’ll either meet the land of his unfortunate end on the water. It takes him about an hour on a good day. But he is weak, and the winds are strong. He thinks about giving up the entire way there. Ironically, the calling of the deep sea and the knowledge that he could simply fall and sink and let go forever are what keeps him going until sand and rocks scrape under the wooden boat.

 

Without a thought, he steps into the water, ignoring his soaking wet socks, carrying himself towards the land. The first thing he finds is a gravestone. He only wants to lean on it for a moment to collect his strength, but the moment he stands still, his legs give out. He sinks down on the ground, kneeling on top of the grave. Breathing what might as well be his last breaths on the grave of a Ratnik who died because they didn’t leave. Didn’t run like a coward to save their own life.

 

“Young Master?”

Illuga’s head lifts slowly. He can make out a tall silhouette, and something blue shining at its side. It’s too blurry to see much more, but he doesn’t need to. There is only one living man roaming this cemetery.

 

Lips parting, he tries to bring out words, but they fail before even reaching his mouth. He doesn’t have much to say anyways.

 

He is picked up from the ground and finds his head resting against Flins’ shoulder. Being carried like this had something peaceful to it. It’s calming to him in a dark, wicked way. He can’t move, can’t talk, can only beg for death to come and take him now. Before he wakes up again and has to find out who survived that onslaught and who didn’t. Before he’ll have to justify to himself or others why he ran—once again.

 

Years ago, Illuga had sworn himself that he would never again save himself before his comrades. And now here he is. Lifelessly held by a stranger that he can’t allow himself to call a friend. Because Flins is right. No living being could love a flawed man like him. Not his parents, not his squad, and certainly not Flins. Strong, loving, protective Flins, who has never asked for anything in return, no matter how many times he saves Illuga’s life.

 

“Take me already,” Illuga begs internaly, and waits for the darkness to come. But it doesn’t.

 

‿̩͙⊱༒︎༻♱༺༒︎⊰‿̩͙

 

“Are you awake?”

Illuga’s eyes blink open. He nods weakly. He was awake all this time, unable to fall asleep with the tension and dread still coursing through his veins. But Flins doesn’t need to know that.

 

“Have something to drink, then.”

He doesn’t really want to. His body is weak and his mind even weaker. Besides—he is right where he wants to be. The last thing he wants is to gain back his strength so he can leave this place. He’d rather be shackled to this bed for the rest of his measly days.

 

“Come. I will aid you.”

Flins carefully sits him up and guides a cup to his lips, but Illuga barely takes a few sips. When the cup is put down again, his gaze moves upwards, towards Flins’ dark blue eyes.

 

“Sir Flins…” Illuga blinks slowly, one hand weakly resting on Flins’ hand where it’s holding him up. “Please…can I make one last request to you?”

“I will do what is in my power, Master Illuga. It would be my honor,” Flins replies calmly. Dutiful as always. His gentleness even now makes Illuga feel sick.

“Bury me on this cemetery. I did not dare to be as close to you as I craved while I was alive. But I can feel now that this is where I belong… This is the only place I feel at home now. Where you are. Where your lantern shines. Let me stay close to you, please.”

 

For a few moments, he receives no answer at all. He waits for another minute, before blinking up at Flins again, who is looking down at him, speechlessly.

 

“How dare you speak as if your days have already been counted, Young Master?”

Illuga lets out a weak sigh.

“I’ve stopped runnung from it,” he mutters. “There is no going back. I can’t be the only survivor again. Not this time. It can’t be me. Someone else has to carry on that burden. I’m sorry.”

 

Silence embraces them as Illuga’s eyes slip close again. He leans into Flins’ touch, melting into his embrace. A gentle hand comes up to caress his face.

“You are troubling me deeply, Young Master. Have you asked yourself yet, if you are the only one suffering such a fate?”

Illuga frowns lightly.

“What do you mean…”

“I know what you are going through. I too haven given up on the fight before. I extinguished my flame in the deep of the ocean, never to emerge again. I am the only survivor of my kind. But I did not rise from the ashes out of the love for my life, but because it was others who relied on me. Because there were humans who needed me, desperately calling out for my help.”

 

“I ran from them,” Illuga whispers, voice barely leaving his lips.

“If they cannot, then I will call for you,” Flins replies. “I will call out your name in weeping and soaring. Master Illuga. If the gods have awoken me for any one purpose, then maybe it was to hold onto your life this very night. I am the one who cannot lose you.”

 

“What have I ever done for you,” Illuga huffs, almost too weakly to bring across his bitter amusement.

“You daren’t speak like this of yourself,” Flins corrects him. “You’ve spared not efforts nor pain to give every last piece of yourself to those you care for. I have admired you from afar, because you flee from closeness, and so do I. But I mustn’t be so foolish anymore, Young Master. And neither should you.”

 

The burning in his eyes is back now. He doesn’t notice the tears falling before Flins’ thumb wipes at them. The glove feels soft on his skin, but it doesn’t have the warmth that Illuga is craving at the moment. Somehow, Flins seems to know it. He removes his hand, drawing a small whine from Illuga, who bites his tongue in embarrassment right after. But when bare, warm fingers cup his face a moment later, it doesn’t matter anymore.

 

Tears start to fall freely as Illuga feels himself dropping and falling, and through every new wave of pain, Flins is right there. Carrying him through. Cradling his face and holding him close. It is only when a familiar warmth starts to spread through his weak body, that Illuga opens his eyes again. In his trembling hand, he is holding a blue lantern. The flames flickering steadily, like a heartbeat.

 

“It never burns as brightly as it does in your hands,” Flins says quietly, right into his ear. A soft promise. An admission. A confession?

“It’s warm,” Illuga mutters, fresh tears spilling onto his cheeks.

“It calls to you in despair whenever you aren’t near. And in loud admiration when you are. It has always called for you louder than I’ve allowed myself to.”

“Sir Flins. What really is your lantern?” Illuga whispers, hugging the blue glass a little closer. It fills him with so much love, his heart could burst.

“It is a more honest part of me. Some may say it is my soul or my heart, but the latter is beating inside my chest with high certainty.”

 

“You joke at the most unfortunate of times, Sir Flins,” Illuga complains, voice breaking at the end. He can only curl up into Felins’ embrace even closer and sob against his chest. Flins only smiles quietly, holding him with all the tenderness he has to offer.

 

“Say that it’s true,” Illuga begs quietly, struggling to take deep breaths.

“What is?”

“Say that your soul really is calling for me, Sir Flins. If you are lying to me out of pity, it will only kill me in the end.”

“I could not pity you if I tried,” Flins promises, leaning down to look directly into Illuga’s eyes. “I can only weep with you. By your side.”

“Stop it with your fancy words. I am sick of them. If you won’t talk to me straight, you don’t have to do this…”

 

A finger on his lips shuts Illuga up.

“My intention was never to confuse or irritate you, Young Master.”

“My name is Illuga.”

 

It’s quiet between them for a few seconds. Flins’ lips part, but he seems to hesitate.

“You still hide from me,” Illuga whispers. “I thought you wanted to stop being a fool.”

“You are right. It seems my heart is still loathing to fall without fear. Let me make it up, if you’ll allow me. Illuga.”

 

The question alone seems foolish to Illuga.

“There’s nothing I could lose anymore besides you, now. I don’t have the luxury to keep holding on to my hesitation.”

“I understand. I shan’t leave your side in uncertainty.”

 

Flins head dips down a little lower. The tension in the air makes both of their breaths stutter.

“Let me call your name in every language I’ve learned to speak… and in those, too, which I haven’t had the courage to use. Whatever you allow me to take, I will.”

“Everything,” Illuga breathes, his hand finding Flins’ shoulder and gripping it tightly. “I want everything. Stop denying me. I can’t help myself.”

 

Warmth spreads across his cheek again before Illuga feels the softness of Flins’ lips against his own. It’s gentle, it’s tender, and almost too careful. As if Illuga could break any moment again.

 

“Not enough,” Illuga pants the moment Flins pulls away.

“Not?”

“No.”

 

Flins doesn’t make him wait anymore. He leans back in, connecting their lips in a kiss again. Deepening it slowly. This time, Illuga feels the lamp flicker against his chest. The feeling shoots through him like ecstasy. His eyes roll back into his head at the feeling, jaw going slack. If this is what Flins feels like while kissing him, then there is really no doubt that his words from earlier were true.

 

Tears stream down his face, but he keeps chasing that pleasure. This addictive flicker in his chest, burning at his heart and filling him with a contentment he can’t describe.

 

Flins slowly pulls away once more, still cupping Illuga’s face. He searches for something in his eyes, and Illuga can feel it in his chest when Flins seems to find whatever it is.

 

“Despite all the expressions I have come to know in my lifetime… I fear that what I have to say to you can’t be put into words.”

“But I’ve wanted to hear you say it ever since I’ve known you,” Illuga admits.

“Then help me. You render me utterly speechless, Yo— Illuga.” Flins swallows, and Illuga can’t find any signs in his face that he is joking.

“They’re simple words,” he replies. “All you have to say is the truth. Nothing eloquent. Nothing smart or fancy.”

“Since when have you known?” Flins asks.

“I… Known what?”

“That I love you.”

 

Illuga blinks, his jaw trembling lightly at Flins’ confession.

“My apologies. I shouldn’t have assumed—”

“I do, too. I love you. Loved you, ever since I talked to you back then. You were always the one I looked up to. I wanted to prove myself to you in hopes that I would be worthy of your respect one day. But…I failed. I failed back then, and I failed today, when I ran away despite myself.”

 

“I’m sure that you did what was right,” Flins replies, placing a soft kiss on Illuga’s forehead. “It is no crime to survive, Illuga.”

Illuga doesn’t respond. He only rests his head against Flins’ chest, slumping into his arms again and letting out a breath of relief when Flins’ arms wrap around him.

“Keep me here. Don’t let me leave again,” he whispers.

“If that is what you wish, I will have you,” Flins replies without hesitation.

 

“I don’t know what I want. I don’t know if I want to find out what happened at the camp. I can’t lose everyone again.”

“You won’t lose me.”

“Are you sure? I have worried about you before. And you joked about it. Like a reckless man.”

Flins lets out a small chuckle at the memory. Illuga finds that the sound is more comforting that infuriating this time.

 

“Have I? How inappropriate of me. Am I deserving of your reprimanding? I shan’t shy away from the chastisement, Young Master.”

“You play with my patience, Sir Flins,” Illuga warns, but there is not fire behind his words. It’s relieving, in a way. Hearing Flins joke again, even in this situation. He earns himself a small hum and a soft smile this time.

 

“I fear that such is in my nature, beloved. But I shall accept any punishment you think of for me.”

“Shut up. Kiss me again.”

“How very rigorous, Young Master. But since it is you, I’ll oblige.”

 

Before Illuga can scoff at his behavior, Flins already pulls him closer by the neck, capturing him in a kiss that feels hungrier than all the ones before. More selfish. Illuga returns is with fervor. For all the years of his life, he never allowed himself to crave anything this way. It seems that he is just man after all, if the all-consuming greed he feels for the fae is anything to go by.

 

“You should listen to me like this all the time,” he finds himself muttering into the kiss, and Flins must’ve heard him well, because Illuga feels fire burning up in his chest, reaching his throat and spreading out to even his fingertips. He pulls away, feeling dizzy.

“What…what is this?” he pants, reaching for Flins’ lantern again. “What is that feeling? It’s…so strong.”

“If I had the slightest idea, I would tell you. But I am as clueless as you are.”

“You are a bad liar, Sir Flins. Do you really think I can’t tell?”

 

Flins lets out a breathless laugh.

“Enlighten me, then.”

“Your false modesty isn’t flattering.”

The smug grin on Flins’ face makes Illuga groan.

“If I weren’t so weak I could pass out any moment, I would—”

“Yes? What would you do, Master Illuga? I am all ears.”

“You can wipe that look right off your face. I am going to sleep now. Don’t you dare wake me for anything.”

 

He wants to scoff again, but a pair of soft lips swallow the sound.

“Of course, beloved. I will be watching over you every minute.”

Illuga almost doesn’t want to let Flins go anymore. He wants to keep the fae close, straddle his lap and kiss him all night long. Until he feels satisfied and sure that it’s not a dream. He really is here, being held by the man he fell for three years ago. It’s hard to believe that it’s real. But he is too exhausted to still ruminate over it.

 

“Still pondering?” Flins asks, tilting Illuga’s chin up with one hand.

“I want to keep you. Selfishly. Greedily. Forever.” The admission rolls easily off his tongue, as if for the past years he was only waiting for his chance to speak it.

“How lucky am I…” Flins’ eyes are half lidded now, and Illuga loses himself in them easily.

“Will you stay at the cemetery while I sleep? Will you sleep too?”

“I don’t sleep—I rest, at times. But not tonight. Tonight, I will guard the lighthouse and my adored within it.”

“You are full of vain flattery, Flins. Has anyone told you that before?”

 

Flins chuckles at his words, gently guiding Illuga’s weak body down on the mattress again.

“I’ve heard it countless times, indeed. And they are right. But you are not.”

“How so?”

“It’s not vain when it comes to you. I mean every word.”

Illuga is caught off guard once again when Flins steals one more urgent kiss from him, that turns soft after a moment. When he pulls away, it is only gentle, and Flins’ fingertips ghost over the side of his face.

 

“Sleep now, Young Master. The sun won’t wake you in here. You can rest as long as is needed. I will always be around.”

Flins gets up, reaching for his lantern, but Illuga doesn’t loosen his grip on it. He only frowns, pulling it closer to himself. A wave of awe floods Illuga’s insides, and it’s then he knows that Flins isn’t going to win this fight.

 

“Sleep well,” is all Flins says before covering Illuga with a blanket. He decides to wait until Illuga is asleep before stepping outside. Seems like the candles at the graves will have to suffice for tonight.

 

‿̩͙⊱༒︎༻♱༺༒︎⊰‿̩͙

 

Illuga sleeps for almost an entire day, only waking once during morning to drink something and have a small bite to eat, before going right back to bed. Flins keeps his promise, not leaving the cemetery once. It’s not like he can go anywhere without his lantern, which Illuga is still holding onto like a child to a stuffed animal.

 

It’s in the afternoon that Illuga finally wakes up again, but this time, he feels freezing cold. He is shivering, pulling the blanket tighter, hugging the lantern close, but nothing helps.

 

“Flins?” Illuga opens his eyes, looking around. He can’t see or hear any sign of the fae. On shaky legs he slips out of the bed and slowly makes his way towards the door. When he looks outside, he can tell that the sun must be up. It’s always kind of cloudy around the cemetery though, so the sun never quite shines through. Quite a fitting atmosphere for a cemetery.

 

“Flins?” Illuga tries again. What he doesn’t expect is for a dog to run up to him and greet him with loud barks. Startled, he pushes the animal away from him. What is a dog doing at this place? Since when does Flins keep a pet?

 

“There you are, what have you— Oh, Master Illuga. It’s you. How are you feeling?”

“Since when do you have a dog?”

Flins chuckles at that, guiding the dog back outside.

 

“It’s time to leave for you. No more sitting around the graves. Come, now. Go.”

The dog barks one more time before leaving them alone and disappearing towards the coast.

“I don’t have a dog. It is merely a companion who likes to visit me from time to time. Enough about the dog, now. How are you?”

 

Illuga lets out a heavy breath.

“I’m freezing.”

Flins raises his eyebrows, noticing Illuga’s shaky form now.

“You look pale. Let me help you back to bed. I will bring you another blanket in a moment, and maybe brew you a tea.”

When Flins puts his arm around Illuga to walk him back inside, to his surprise, Illuga wraps his arms around his torso and slumps against him.

“Oh.” Flins gently pats over Illuga’s messy hair, placing a kiss on top of his head.

 

When he moves towards the bed, Illuga only hums in protest. So Flins gives up on making the man walk, instead picking him up bridal-style and carrying him back to bed. Only when Illuga is lying down again, coat falling to the sides, does Flins notice the absence of Illuga’s pants.

 

“Ahem. Young Master… Did you come here all the way with bare legs?” He asks. “You look badly hurt.”

It takes a few moments for Illuga to catch up with what he’s saying, and when he realizes that his legs are entirely exposed, he quickly pulls them up to his chest, covering them with his arms.

“Don’t look,” he murmurs, face flushed in embarrassment.

 

“I don't mean to stare, Master Illuga, but these injuries require treatment. Please, allow me to tend to them. I promise to be careful.”

“Fine…fine. But hurry. I’m freezing cold.”

“Right. Let me get that second blanket for you.”

 

Flins walks over to a shelf, reaching for two pairs of blankets and carrying them over.

“You can take off your coat. We will wrap you in blankets, and I’ll start a fire as soon as I’m done tending to your wounds.”

 

Illuga obliges, though a bit hesitantly, shedding his coat and accepting the blankets that Flins drapes over him. Only his legs stay out in the open, and Illuga’s face is still red as Flins returns once more with some bandages and bottles to clean up his wounds.

 

“Can you hold my lantern?” He asks softly. Illuga nods and reaches for the blue lantern, holding it in his arms to allow for more light on the injuries.

 

Flins then kneels in front of Illuga on the floor and removes his gloves, before taking a cotton pad and pouring a clear liquid on it. He carefully inspects Illuga’s left leg first, finding a few cuts around his shin, and a harsh abrasion on his knee. Blood has already dried on his skin, and Flins has an apologetic look on his face when he looks up at Illuga again.

 

“It may sting a little. You can hold onto my arm if it helps.”

“I’ve had worse,” Illuga replies, looking away. Flins only nods before starting to clean up the first cut. Illuga takes it all surprisingly well, though he does eventually grab Flins’ shoulder and squeezes it hard when the latter is disinfecting his knees.

 

Flins eventually spreads an ointment on the wounds and wraps Illuga’s knees in bandages.

“Should have worn your knee protectors,” Flins mutters half to himself.

“I left without pants. Do you really think I consciously decided not to wear my protective gear? I don’t even have my lantern. I never planned to make it all the way here in the first place!”

 

Flins’ expression darkens slightly at that.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean…” Illuga sighs and shakes his head. “Nothing. It’s not important anymore.”

The frown on Flins’ face doesn’t vanish as he places one hand on Illuga’s bare thigh.

 

“You must only ever make it to me, Illuga. Not any further. Wherever you are, and whatever has changed, you can find me any time. I won’t make you walk a step further than into my embrace. But you must promise me that you will make your way to me. Don’t make a man worry for your life when he goes out for his work. I beg of you.”

 

“Y-you don’t have to beg.” Illuga covers his face with one hand, shyly closing his eyes for a moment before he can look down at Flins again.

“Promise it.”

“I promise. I’ll make it to you, Flins. If you’ll have me.”

Instead of a verbal response, this time, Flins answers him by leaning forward and placing a gentle kiss on the inside of Illuga’s thigh. Illuga’s breath hitches slightly at the gesture, stuttering when he breathes out again.

 

“Always find me, Young Master. No matter in what state.”

Illuga nods quickly, not trusting his voice right now. His eyes are fixed on Flins, feeling the soft caress of the warm hand on his thigh, gloves discarded on the floor. The touch feels so nice. Skin on skin, with no layer of separation between them. Illuga opens his legs a little further, almost subconsciously making room for Flins. The fae suppresses a light smirk at his gesture.

 

“I would love to accept the invitation another time. But I fear that you are still quite feverish, and I promised to light you a fire once I was done. So I must decline politely for now,” he says smugly, getting up from the ground. Illuga shuts his legs faster than he can blink, pulling a blanket over them as he moves further onto the bed.

 

“That— that’s not… Stop being so inappropriate! You are imagining things.”

Flins laughs softly at his outrage, busying himself with the fireplace. Illuga watches him in silence.

“What were you implying anyways?”

Flins has to hold back another laugh, not looking at Illuga this time. If he sees the look on his face right now, he’ll get defensive all over again.

 

“Whatever deprivations are you imagining?” He asks, a small flame flickering under his hands, slowly catching onto the wood. “I was only offering you to tend to your sore muscles. But since you have fallen ill, I don’t want to leave your legs uncovered for too long.”

 

He finally gets up and turns around, finding Illuga looking flustered and ashamed.

“O-oh… I mean, I didn’t… No, of course, I apologize for making this weird…”

Flins has to shake his head in amusement once again.

“I jest. Whatever your mind was conjuring up, I probably meant it, and worse. You were right, taking me for a deviant.”

“You are a horrible man,” Illuga mutters, wrapping his blankets even tighter around his body.

 

“Guilty as charged. Would you like a hot tea?”

Illuga lets his eyes rake up and down Flins’ figure before he nods.

“Alright. I will be right back.”

 

When Flins walks up the staircase of the lighthouse to find some tea leaves, Illuga sighs and puts a hand on his cheek. He’s not sure if the heat is from his embarrassment or his fever. Maybe a mix of both. He wonders if Flins is saying all of these things just to see him flustered, or if he really means it all.

 

Just as he’s about to spiral—because there is no way he’s going to ask Flins about that again, lest the other notice how fixated he is on the topic—his gaze falls onto the lantern. Burning blue and unchanged next to him. He could just reach out and feel for himself. See what kinds of feelings Flins is really having. Would Flins be okay with that? It is kind of a personal thing. But if he left his lantern unsupervised around Illuga, then he must trust him with it. But what if he did that because he trusts Illuga not to take advantage of it and touch it?

 

His thoughts keep going in circles until Flins steps back into the room with a small bag of dried leaves in his hand.

“Mind to share what you are contemplating about, Young Master?” He asks, while pouring some water into a pot and hanging it up over the fire that is burning brightly now.

 

“Am I allowed to touch your lantern?”

Flins turns around, eyebrows raised.

“You don’t fail to surprise me, Master Illuga. Since when did you get into the custom of asking me for permission for such trivial things?”

“I just thought you might not like it if I pry too much. You said your lantern is a more honest part of you. But everyone prefers to keep their true feelings hidden sometimes. Even you, I’m sure.”

 

“Hm. Certainly. But I also remember having called it foolish of myself to keep my distance from you for so long. Please, never hesitate to quench your curiosity. My true feelings are as thinly veiled as they come when it comes to you.”

Illuga reaches for the lantern at that, holding it in his hands like some magical truth-seeking crystal ball, before looking back up at Flins.

“Fine, then. You should tell me your joke from earlier one more time.”

 

Flins’ expression morphs into one of surprise, and then amusement.

“Ah. So it is inquiry about my intentions that makes you ask.”

“If your feelings are as thinly veiled as you say, you’re not going to avoid the topic, are you?” Illuga challenges. Flins lets out an amused huff.

“You’re right. I cannot pride myself in rectitude and integrity by such cowardly practices. To be quite frank with you, Master Illuga—were I not aware of the reciprocity of our feelings, I would assume you are here to interrogate me.”

 

“You just said you weren’t going to avoid the topic, Sir Flins. And yet here you are, making accusations. I’m not the one who needs to justify his degenerate jokes.”

Illuga isn’t having it. He is far used to Flins’ means of distraction, and maybe better inclined with them than anyone else. Flins has shared many of his tactics with him in the past, whenever Illuga has to attend one of Aino’s lectures. He can tell when Flins is being disingenuous.

 

“Hm. You caught me there. What do you wish to hear from me, then?” Flins asks, this time walking back towards Illuga, crossing his arms in front of his chest. “I vow to be sincere, this time.”

“Were you joking?” Illuga asks cautiously.

“Were you to prefer it if I was?”

Illuga squints his eyes.

“Is that as sincere as you can get?”

 

Flins shakes his head now, dropping his arms to his sides again in defeat.

“My apologies. I should have sensed that you were hoping for me to answer you straight. You see, there is no simple way to put it. I was indeed hoping to make you a bit flustered with my words. But that is not to say there is no earnest intent behind my actions.”

 

Illuga looks down at the lantern, then back up at Flins, who raises his eyebrows slightly.

“What do you think? Am I ingenuous enough?”

“I want to believe you,” Illuga admits. “I just wish you could say it to my face for once. Without the riddles and diversions. Do you desire me in such ways or not, Sir Flins? I need to hear you say it in earnest.”

“Then I shan’t deny you of such.”

With a few steps, Flins closes the space between them and cups Illuga’s chin gently. Illuga’s breath catches in his throat at the action, and his hands curl to fists around the blankets he’s still holding.

 

“My beloved. I yearn for you in ways beyond the flesh and plain aesthetics that you have to offer. But to deny that my eyes are blessed with a sight that rivals even the charm of nature every time I behold your graceful sight, would be dishonesty. Desire you I do, indeed. Even in the most vain of ways, Young Master.”

 

Illuga swallows dryly.

“Thank you for your honesty, Flins…” He lets out a shaky breath. He is still shivering from the fever, but now he’s also feeling hot. The lantern in his hands is not really helping that.

 

He knows that Flins meant every word he said, because with every drip of sweet honey from his lips, the flames grew a little higher, and now they’re almost as restless and hot as Illuga remembers them from the time when Flins kissed him with passion. It’s almost the same feeling as then, and it’s pleasurable in a way that he can’t find any words for. It makes Illuga crave for that gentle touch again—that tender, yet unstoppable, shared greed between them.

 

Licking his lips, Illuga tries to look away.

“I will do my best to avoid diversions from your questions in the future. Truth is that I have no experience whatsoever, cherishing a lover. I hope to be granted at least a modicum of patience regarding my shortcomings towards you,” Flins says, looking sincere all the while.

 

“You just had to say you feel shy, Sir Flins,” Illuga chuckles, earning a timid smile from Flins in return.

“I admire the simplicity with which you manage to express yourself. I aspire to learn from you in the future.”

“Yes?” Illuga tilts his head in surprise. “I always thought of your ability to talk gracefully as something admirable myself. Though infuriating at times, I could not imagine you being the same person without this feat.”

 

Flins has to chuckle at that, getting up to look after the water over the fire.

“I shall not stir your ire purposely, then.”

“Not stir my—? You are laughable. A hypocrite,” Illuga accuses him, and Flins cannot hold back his soft laughter this time.

“You’ve caught me red-handed, Young Master.”

 

Flins doesn’t have to think much while preparing the tea, letting the leaves spread their taste in the water as he carefully carries the cup over to the bed. Sitting down next to Illuga, he blows gently into the cup to cool it down.

 

“How are you feeling?” He asks softly. His voice is gentle again, full of care and concern. It seems to weigh on Illuga’s chest, until he remembers that it’s just the lantern that he is still holding, that amplifies the effect that Flins has on him.

 

“Don’t be so worried about me,” he mutters, allowing Flins to guide the cup to his lips and let him take a sip.

“Your body has given out more than once, and you have brushed it off countless times. I believe it is taking revenge on you for all the times you have forsaken your health in favor of your duties.”

 

“Why must you hold me accountable for all of my flaws, Flins? I don’t want you to worry. I will be fine, as I’ve always been. I will go back to work as I always do. I was born for this task. I won’t abandon it now just because it’s hard.”

 

Illuga stubbornly lets go of the lantern and grabs the cup himself to drink from it, refusing to be hand-fed like an infant. But the moment his fingers touch the cup, he lets out a whimper, pulling his burnt hand away.

 

“What in the…”

“Are you alright?” Flins puts the cup away and takes Illuga’s hands into his, inspecting them carefully.

“I’m not badly hurt. How are you holding that cup?” Illuga looks at Flins speechlessly, still a bit startled.

“A bit of heat cannot harm me,” Flins replies absently, still checking Illuga’s fingers. Illuga sighs at that and pulls his hands away, giving Flins a quiet look.

“You treat me like I’m fragile.” It’s not an accusation, it’s a statement. An observation. Flins doesn’t try to deny it.

 

“Such is not my intention, Young Master. I merely hope to convey my concerns for you. You are not ill for no reason, and I will not have with your dismissive attitude. You have run from people’s care all your life. You cannot allow me to love you without also allowing me to worry,” Flins replies. He takes Illuga’s hand in his again, eyes never leaving his expression.

“If you antagonize me for expressing my concerns, I would rather be a foe who nurses you than a lover who neglects you.”

 

Illuga’s jaw starts to tremble slightly. His hand squeezes Flins’ hand tightly as he averts his gaze.

“I’m sorry. I just don’t want you to think I’m weak…” He whispers, closing his eyes to hold back the tears threatening to escape.

“Never could I think this of you,” Flins promises. His hand comes up to cup Illuga’s face and turn it towards him again. “I can see your strength in every step you take. Your determination towards your goals is a most admirable virtue. I shall never stand between you and your aspirations. Only a fool would find himself in quarrel with you.”

 

“Then let me go back,” Illuga requests, looking up at Flins with big, pleading eyes. They’re shining with unshed tears, and Illuga blinks fast, breaking the moment, when he can feel the flame in Flins’ lantern flickering unevenly.

“All I ask is that you stay until you have made a full recovery,” Flins explains. “Nothing more.”

“Then I ask of you that you will at least keep to yourself about my poor condition. I don’t want my father to know…should he still be alive.”

“Of course. I shall vow to eternal secrecy, if that is what it takes. Such is a small price to pay for your well-being.”

 

Flins leans over to place a small kiss on top of his head.

“Rest, now. Collect your strength. We are in no haste.”

“May I keep the lantern again?” Illuga asks. Flins only nods, stroking over Illuga’s head a few times.

“You appear to have grown quite attached to it. Might I ask why that is?”

Illuga closes his eyes, hugging the warm lantern close to himself.

 

“It’s relieving to have something that cannot deceive me. Something made of pure honesty of the heart. I never have to second guess your words when I can feel their weight in my own body.”

Flins has to smile at that.

“I see. Then you must know that I love you dearly, Master Illuga.”

 

‿̩͙⊱༒︎༻♱༺༒︎⊰‿̩͙

 

As per Illuga’s request, Flins decides not to leave the Final Night cemetery for now, unless a matter of uppermost urgency comes up. On the third day since his arrival, a boat arrives at the island. Flins can hear them before he sees the person making their way towards the lighthouse. Deciding to see who it is, he goes to greet the newcomer.

 

“Sir Flins,” the man greets him, who can now be recognized clearly as a Ratnik by his uniform and the lantern he is carrying on his side.

“Greetings,” Flins replies, giving the man a respectful nod. “Do you happen to come from Cliffwatch Camp?”

“Yes. A tragedy went down there a few days ago. A dead Ratnik that was kept near the camp made way for a Wild Hunt rift, and there were many casualties. I’ve been sent to ask for your aid in rebuilding the camp and guarding the injured.”

 

“A dead Ratnik created a rift?” Flins frowns, his thoughts going back to the things Illuga told him about the new rifts appearing everywhere. Could it be that the Ratnik that he watched ‘die’ and create a rift had already been dead when he clawed open his chest? Like a zombie awoken by the abyss?

 

“Sir Flins?”

“My apologies. I got carried away. As a lightkeeper, I want to follow my duty amongst my comrades. However, I am already tending to the injured. Squad leader Illuga found refuge in my humble abide during the ambush, and I have vowed not to leave his side,” Flins explains.

“Captain Illuga? He’s here?!”

“He is under my care. I will escort him back to the camp once he is sufficiently recovered. I shall join the forces, then, too.”

 

“Does Illuga know—” The Ratnik falls silent when he sees Flins moving a finger to his lips. Then he makes his way down the small path towards the water, only turning around again once they reached the small beach.

“I wish not for him to hear any worrisome news while he is alone. I would rather be the one to carry any tragedies to him.”

“I understand.” The Ratnik says, a sigh leaving his lips. “Nikita is badly injured. His condition is very unstable, and he’s been on the edge between life and death for three days straight. We don’t know how much longer he’ll hold out.”

 

Flins remains silent for a while, his gaze wandering over the vast surface of the ocean. Rough winds blow through his indigo-blue hair, making him raise up his shoulders slightly to duck his face further into the collar of his coat. He wonders if Illuga is holding his lantern right now. If he can feel the sorrow that his face doesn’t give away. Flins only hopes that it doesn’t wake him up or disturbs his rest. He knows he’ll have to tell Illuga sooner rather than later. If Illuga wants to see his father before his possible death, he wouldn’t mind breaking the promise they made and letting Illuga leave the Island. This changes the whole situation.

 

“Thank you for letting me know. I will inform Master Illuga of his father’s predicament. Is there anything I can do?”

The Ratnik shakes his head.

“Nikita is taking medicine, he’s being cared for twenty four-seven. We’re doing everything we can to help him already.”

Flins’ eyebrows furrow slightly.

“Might I ask, are you yet to contact the Frostmoon Scions about the matter?”

“By all due respect, Sir Flins… What are they going to do?”

 

Flins is speechless for a short moment. His arms drop to his sides, and his jaw clenches. He’s almost sure that his anger is easily visible in his eyes.

“You’re telling me you haven’t even taken them into consideration? Despite the utmost urgent state of a fellow Ratnik?” He sighs, shaking his head. “I shan’t let ire cloud my judgement in this moment of dire need. I will take action on my own and seek out the Moonchanter.”

 

His eyes close for a moment as he takes a deeper breath, opening again to see the Ratnik having taken a few steps back from his earlier position.

“There is no time to waste on the matter. I will talk to Master Illuga and go on my way immediately. If he decides to see his father, I must leave him in your care to escort him safely back to Cliffwatch Camp. I don’t like it, but I can’t leave this up to fate. I trust that you will have your undivided attention on him while I am gone.”

 

“Ah… Yes, Sir Flins!”

Flins only nods once more before turning around and making his way back towards the lighthouse. When he enters it, Illuga is sitting up on the bed, looking distraught. As expected, he is holding the blue lantern in his arms. The moment Flins steps into his line of vision, he peaks up.

 

“I was about to look for you. What happened?” Illuga asks, sounding worried. Flins swallows hard before making his way over to the bed, sitting down next to Illuga.

“A Ratnik has come to the cemetery to request my aid at Cliffwatch Camp. He also shared news regarding you father…”

Illuga’s eyes widen, and his lips part anxiously when Flins doesn’t speak immediately.

 

“What is it? How is he? Is…is he alive? Flins. Tell me.” He grabs onto Flins’ arm, squeezing it urgently. “Flins, is he…?”

“Nikita is badly injured. From what I know, he is in grave danger. I’ve decided to travel down towards the Frostmoon Enclave on Hiisi Iland to find the Moonchanter. She may be the only one that we can put our hopes in. But if I make it in time, there might— Master Illuga?”

 

“Not again. Not again,” is all that Illuga can bring out as he chokes on a sob. He slumps against Flins’ side, who embraces Illuga gently. He holds him for a while, before carefully reaching for his lantern and taking it from Illuga’s weakened grip.

 

“Listen to me, Young Master. If there exists any way to salvage your father’s health, then I vow to make it happen. I shall leave no stone in all of Teyvat unturned in search of a cure. Go back the Camp and rest at Nikita’s side until my return. Please.”

Illuga hides his face in Flins’ chest, still holding onto his coat.

“Promise it. Promise you will be back in time… I can’t lose my family again.”

Flins doesn’t refuse him. He could never.

 

“I shall not rest nor slack on my journey, but make haste to come back to you, beloved. I pledge thus from the veracity of my heart.”

Illuga slowly lifts his head again, and Flins immediately sheds his glove to gently swipe at the tears on his cheek.

“Don’t get lost on your way,” Illuga croaks out, shakily reaching for Flins’ wrist. “I need you by my side.”

“I won’t be gone for long. You have my word, Young—”

“Illuga. My name is Illuga. I want to hear it from your lips.”

 

Flins sucks in a small breath before cupping Illuga’s cheek, looking at him in reverence.

“Illuga. Illuga, my love. You have my word.”

Illuga’s breath stutters and his jaw trembles as he tries to reply, but more tears only collect at his chin.

“Kyryll,” Flins suddenly says. “That is my name.”

 

Illuga is so taken aback that he forgets to cry for a moment.

“Ky…ryll?”

“Yes. Kyryll Chudomirovich Flins. I don’t share my name with many. But if we are changing to our true names, I shall share mine with you, too.”

“Kyryll…” Illuga mutters, exploring the feeling of the name on his tongue. “Kyryll. I trust that you will back with help.”

“I oughtn't let you down.”

 

Illuga reaches up to Flins’ collar now, pulling him slightly closer.

“I hate to see you go without me,” he mutters, a light frown on his face.

“My love. You may get a pass on leaving the lighthouse, but not on your recovery. You know I mean well.”

“Why were you angry, earlier?” Illuga asks now, changing the topic.

“It’s a trivial matter. We ought to concentrate on the urgent matters at hand. You will return to Ashveil Peak to your squad, and I shall take my immediate leave to the southwest of Nod-Krai in search of Miss Lauma.”

 

Flins finally pulls away, reaching for his glove and slipping his hand back into it.

“I must take this with me, this time,” he says as he grabs his lantern, fastening it on his coat again.

“I will miss you,” Illuga says as he gets up from the bed. He already regained a lot of strength during the past days, but he can still feel a slight ache in his bones—his body protesting against his plans.

 

“You see me rarely as it is. What are some more hours?” Flins replies, only meaning well. But Illuga is already seeking his closeness again.

“What if it was everything to me?” He asks, searching for an answer in Flins’ expression.

“Then I would simply repeat my promise to return with haste. It is all I can do.”

 

Illuga nods, his hand coming up to Flins’ shoulder and sliding around his neck. He has to stand on his tiptoes to reach Flins’ lips, but the fae bows down the moment their lips meet, his own hand finding the back of Illuga’s head. The kiss lasts long, and neither want to be the one to pill away first. Illuga’s heart is beating fast as his free hand slides down Flins’ side, finding his lantern. He tries to touch it, just for a short moment. He just needs to know. To make sure. To confirm that Flins truly is feeling the same way as him, and that this kiss means as much to him as it does to Illuga.

 

But before he can reach it, his wrist is stopped by Flins’ hand, who pulls it onto his chest instead. Illuga can feel his heartbeat ever so slightly where Flins has guided it. It’s fast, and Illuga’s fingers curl slightly against his coat. When Flins finally pulls away with a few more short, stolen kisses, he still holds onto Illuga’s hand.

 

“You know me better than anyone. There is nothing hidden from you, my love. Let it be enough.”

He removes Illuga’s hand from his chest now and places a kiss on his knuckles instead. When he looks up, Illuga is staring at his own hand, before his gaze drops back down onto Flins’ lantern. Of course he trusts Flins. Or wants to, at least. Or does he?

 

One small touch would clear out all his doubts. Just his pinky finger, and he could know the truth for certain. Flins interrupts his train of thought by tilting his chin back up.

 

“I will miss you too, Illuga. But let us not linger. Time is running swiftly, so let us be as relentless as fate itself.”

He places one last kiss on Illuga’s hand before making his way to the door, grabbing his polearm.

“After you,” Flins speaks, gesturing politely as he opens the door.

 

‿̩͙⊱༒︎༻♱༺༒︎⊰‿̩͙

 

For the next day and a half, Flins honors his promise not to rest on his way. He arrives at the the Frostmoon Enclave hungry and tired, but he knows that Lauma would have a bite to spare for him if he asks. Any luggage would have only slowed him down, and hunting on the way even more so. As expected, the Moonchanter offers him a generous meal when she hears that he hasn’t eaten on the entire way to Hiisi Iland.

 

Flins decides not to bother with courtesies and hurriedly feeds the food to his lantern. Lauma agrees to come with him immediately, to Flins’ relief. It’s still a long way all the way towards Ashveil Peak, but the Moonchanter never bemoans the way. Flins is well aware that she is used to going to lengths for the citizens of Nod-Krai. It’s truly a blessing that she has such a big heart and the will to help all that are in need.

 

The entire journey ends up taking Flins almost four days, at the end of which they finally arrive at Cliffwatch Camp. The first thing that they do is ask around to find Nikita. They’re led to a tent at the outskirts of the camp. Upon stepping inside, the sight makes both of their hearts clench. Illuga is half draped over his father, face hidden in his chest, seemingly passed out after crying over him.

 

“Is he still alive?” Lauma asks carefully as she steps closer and kneels down. With gentle hands, she moves Illuga’s body to the side, which wakes him up.

“Miss Lauma?” He croaks out, blinking at her slowly before his eyes meet Flins’. He doesn’t say a word, but they can read in each others’ eyes everything that needs to be said.

 

“He is breathing,” Lauma says, and Flins can feel some relief washing over him. He kept his promise. They made it in time…hopefully.

Lauma looks over the medicines that are laying out in the tent, a deep frown on her face.

“He needs more than this to heal. He needs air, and fresh food, and sun-rays to strengthen his mind. I can try my best, but to make a full recovery, he can’t stay here.”

 

Illuga nods at her words, but he looks numb. As if there is no person behind his eyes anymore. He can only sit back and watch the whole scene play out as Lauma is handed a knife, a small cut in her palm letting silver liquid drip slowly between the parted lips of his father. He watches it all without moving or speaking, like a movie happening in front of him. Lauma is praying before the mattress, now, a circle of green light surrounding her.

 

If this were any other situation, Illuga would be admiring the sparkle of her beautiful antlers, or marvel at the way she levitates as power flows at her command. But this isn’t any other situation. So by the time that Lauma gets up again and leaves the tent to go look for any foods that could possibly help in Nikita’s recovery, Illuga is kneeling back at his place at his father’s side.

 

“I’m going to lose him,” he mutters. It’s the first thing he says to Flins, though the fae isn’t sure it’s really directed at him. Flins doesn’t reply. He’s not the type to offer empty hopes or promises. His own past is too harsh not to be aware of the real possibility that Illuga might be right. He knows death better than anyone—knows that the pain that it deals is never to be underestimated. He’s not interested in simply consoling Illuga.

 

Instead, he kneels down next to him, and allows him to lean on Flins’ side, like he so often has in the past week. Flins might never get used to the physical proximity that humans show so easily and so trusting, but he wouldn’t trade that trust for anything.

 

Illuga turns his head slightly, and his hand reaches out for Flins’ side. He doesn’t have to say anything. Flins already knows what he’s looking for. It might be an unhealthy habit that Illuga has gotten into, but right now, that seems like their smallest concern.

 

Flins unbuckles the lantern from his coat and hands it to Illuga, who lets out a soft sigh of relief once he holds it in his hands. He melts further into Flins’ embrace when the familiar feeling of the warm flames spread through his body.

 

He feels worry, and concern, and a small amount of relief in Flins’ lamp. Not exactly pleasant emotions. But what Illuga feels most of all is security. Even if just for the moment. He feels certainty that he is still being held—still being loved and cared for as before. That is all he needs for now.

 

 

They bring Nikita down to Piramida at Lauma’s request. The other lightkeepers who had gotten injured during the battle have all recovered again, except for him. Apparently, he used his own body as a shield one too many times to protect the other squad members.

Now that he is getting more fresh air and sunlight, as well as better food and care, Nikita’s state slowly appears to stabilize. After hanging on to the last thread of his life for a week straight, his consciousness is coming back step by step. And so is the light behind Illuga’s eyes.

 

The first time that Nikita opened his eyes again and saw Illuga, a big weight had fallen off his chest. He still doesn’t leave his father’s side day or night, but whenever Lauma comes inside to care for Nikita, she makes some light conversation, and Illuga goes with it.

Flins stayed at the camp to help with the remaining work that has to be done to make it safe again. It takes days until Nikita has the strength to walk again, but the time doesn’t pass as slowly this time.

 

They finally come to the understanding how the incident happened, and put a new policy in place stating that no dead lightkeepers may be kept in or near the camp. Whether the abyss really does make use of their corpses they can’t prove yet—but they can at least keep themselves safe in case the theories are true. They’ll have to do some more investigation into this to find out more.

 

‿̩͙⊱༒︎༻♱༺༒︎⊰‿̩͙

 

“Master Illuga,” Flins greets, entering the room where Illuga and Nikita are having a meal together. Illuga looks up at him, and the smile on his face makes warmth spread through Flins’ chest.

“Yes, Sir Flins?”

“I’ve come to announce my departure. The camp has been fully restored to its former strength, and I prefer not to leave the Wild Hunt surrounding my own dwelling go unsupervised for too long. So I intend to return to my abide shortly and have come to bid you farewell until your next visit.”

 

Illuga gets up from his chair promptly, looking like he is about to say something. But instead, he clenches his hands and nods.

“Goodbye, Sir Flins. I will make sure to visit you betimes.”

“I heard you have taken in my son when he was in need,” Nikita speaks up now, slowly rising from his own seat. He walks over to Flins and pats his shoulder old friends do. Flins returns a warm smile.

 

“I merely came after my duty as a Ratnik. And after thus of a man whose heart has found itself robbed from its place by hands that carry it gentler.”

Nikita’s eyebrows raise up at his words, and he looks over at Illuga, who looks put on the spot.

 

“Would it happen to be that the infamous Ratnik of the night has found himself lovestruck?” Nikita asks, earning a small chuckle from Flins.

“I would never go above your will as a concerned father, my friend. Thus is it my only request that you never exempt me from your harshest judgement in treating Illuga as nothing less of noble, so that I shall grow into a man you may entrust him with.”

 

“Did you really just forgo asking my father for my hand by telling him to be strict with you?” Illuga stares at him speechlessly, but Nikita only laughs.

“Ahh, Flins. Still the same connoisseur that I met you as. If there is one man out there whom I could entrust my son with, then it’s you, my friend. I know you will treat him well. If these are your true feelings, then I won’t be dowdy about it. I am happy for you two.”

 

“Dad…” Illuga shakes his head, one hand rubbing his temple.

“Son, don’t you feel the same about this honorable Ratnik?” Nikita asks, a wide grin on his face as if he didn’t face his sure end only days prior to this. “It would make me proud, you know. Seeing you with a reputable lightkeeper, following in Flins’ footsteps… I suppose the old man’s dreams of a grandchild has to die with this, but it’s an easy trade against Sir Flins as a son-in-law.”

 

“Dad! Stop talking about…grandchildren! You’re embarrassing me.” Illuga is red all over his face, even the tips of his ears burning with embarrassment.

“Why why, there’s no need to feel that way,” Flins says, walking over to Illuga now. “I had to ask for your father’s blessings eventually. Better now than wait for much longer,” he chuckles, placing a hand on Illuga’s shoulder. His thumb caresses the long healed scar on his neck.

 

“Why couldn’t it have waited until later?” He asks, not angrily, but still with a hint of accusation in his voice. Illuga loves this man with all his heart, but gods if Flins doesn’t push his buttons simply by being himself sometimes. Or maybe he was doing it all on purpose, which also wouldn’t be surprising in the least.

Flins slides his hand from Illuga’s shoulder towards the back of his neck, and threads his fingers into Illuga’s maroon hair. He leans closer to his ear, stepping in close enough so that his breath hits Illuga’s skin as he speaks.

 

“Because I wouldn’t be able to lay my hands on you with a clean conscious before I’ve asked your father for permission,” Flins speaks quietly, and Illuga shudders both at the words and the sensation of hot breath meeting his neck. He sucks in a sharp breath, unable to decide whether he wants to hit Flins’ shoulder or kiss him breathless on the spot. But with his father present, he can’t do either, so he makes a choice.

 

“Dad, I’m going to escort Mr Flins back to the lighthouse personally, if that’s alright.” Nikita only lets out a hearty laugh. It’s good to see him back to his full health.

“You go do your thing, lovebirds. Take your time, there is no rush. You’ve made a good recovery yourself, Illuga, but I want you to know that there is always time for rest and a break. I know that growing up with the Ratniki, it seems to you that that’s impossible at times.” He pats Illuga on the back a few times with a fatherly smile on his lips.

 

“Flins, my friend, be so dear and remind my son to take it easy every now and again. He can be a little uptight when he’s caught up in work for too long. Thinking the world will stop spinning without him around,” he adds. Flins’s hand is still stroking the small hairs on Illuga’s neck, never stopping the small movement that is starting to wear Illuga’s patience thin. Meanwhile, Flins seems to have no intention of rushing himself, that self satisfied fucker.

 

“I will do my utmost to help Master Illuga relax, whenever my own workload allows it,” Flins vows. Illuga nearly chokes on air.

“W-we should get going, Sir Flins. Will I meet you at Cliffwatch Camp again, Dad? You should probably stay for a while longer in Piramida.”

“Wherever it be, I will see you again, Illuga,” Nikita replies, giving his son a warm hug that he returns without hesitation.

“Now go end enjoy the carnal delights that life has to offer.”

“Dad!”

 

Illuga cringes, pulling away and dragging Flins towards the door by his arm, who only chuckles at Illuga’s embarrassed behavior.

“How do you think you were made, kid?” Nikita laughs.

“You adopted me!”

With that, Illuga throws the door shut.

“Not one word,” he daunts Flins, starting to make his way towards the port of Piramida.

 

 

On board of a small steamship going over to Paha Isle, they lean against the railing together, looking down at the splashing water and rolling waves. This time, Illuga is fully dressed and carrying his own lantern as he makes his way back to the cemetery. His legs are mostly healed, and he’s caught up on a lot of sleep back in Piramida. Despite never having truly felt like he belongs there, it’s still a place that he used to call home. A place that he’ll never forget.

 

“Do you get some kind of sick joy out of watching me suffer?”

Flins looks up at that, a surprised expression on his face. He opens his mouth to reply, before seeming to change his mind with a small chuckle.

“Indeed I seem to derive some form of pleasure from watching my affect on you. If I have been too cruel to you lately, I apologize sincerely, Illuga.”

 

“So you can remember to use my name,” Illuga teases, earning himself a smitten smile from Flins.

“Of course I can, love. You are simply too expressive and of striking conspicuousness, that I cannot help but wish to see you void of your usual highly-strung nature, and your virtuous self control.”

 

Illuga seems stunned for a moment. He continues to watch the waves hitting the bow of the ship, breaking against its iron walls.

“I’m not the one priding himself in his high composure at all times,” he eventually says. Flins smiles at his words, knowing full well that they’re true.

“Perhaps that is precisely why I am so amazed with your temper.”

It’s Illugas turn to chuckle now, throwing Flins an amused side glance.

“If that is so, then keep having your fun with me, Sir Flins. I will find a way to get back at you soon enough.”

“Is that so?”

 

“There must be some way to wear your patience thin,” Illuga insists.

“I have seen about everything under the moon,” Flins reminds him. “I really doubt you will find the one thing I cannot handle. Dare I remind you that I’ve lived through a rebellion, and the crowning of the Tsaritsa?”

“I will be as irritating as is necessary to reach my goal,” Illuga simply says, stretching his arms above his head.

Flins’ amused expression stays on him until Illuga meets his eyes again.

 

“Do you think I can’t do it?” Illuga challenges.

“It’s not that you lack the cunning needed to acquire such skills. But rather, that I am undeniably smitten by everything you do and say. It could amount to quite a challenge, inconveniencing me to the same degree to which you are easily brought by means of your own nature.”

 

“Don’t think you are above everything just because you’re not a human, Flins.”

“Ah. I would never make such foolish claims,” Flins responds.

“It is your nature that is enraging, not me who is easily bothered,” Illuga claims. “You tell lies with a straight face.”

 

“Worry not, Master Illuga. I will make it up to you soon,” Flins promises, his voice almost turning into a purr.

“I told you not to call me that,” Illuga hisses, glaring at Flins. “You’re doing this out of pure malice.”

“I remember having received your clear permission to keep my ‘malicious’ behavior up,” he teases.

“But you’ve also said you will make up for it. I see nothing of that yet,” Illuga argues back.

“Now now, my dearest. I ought not be indecent in such a place as this.”

 

Illuga can feel his blood rushing to his face again and his breath hitching.

“O-oh… That’s what you meant.”

“It has no rush,” Flins quickly adds. “I know you assumed so much when leaving Piramida, however, if you change your mind,—”

“Don’t you dare back out of this now,” Illuga cuts him off.

“I see,” is all that Flins replies, before quietly turning his gaze back towards the coast of Paha Isle.

 

‿̩͙⊱༒︎༻♱༺༒︎⊰‿̩͙

 

Illuga made it to the port and over the ocean. Now, the walk along the beach towards the cemetery is testing his patience. But this time, he has a feeling that he’s not the only one affected. Flins doesn’t speak a single word on the entire way, like he usually does when he is in no rush to get anywhere. That doesn’t seem to be the case, this time.

 

When they finally walk up the small hill between frostlamp flowers and gravestones, Illuga can feel his pulse quickening and adrenaline making him tense. Entering the Lighthouse, Flins immediately busies himself with the fireplace. It makes sense to start it now—Illuga knows that. But that doesn’t help with the nervousness coursing through his body, making him restless and jittery.

 

A few minutes later, warmth starts to fill the old lighthouse, and Flins finally steps towards him again.

He just stands there for a moment, taking in Illuga’s full form as he tries his best to stand still before the fae.

“Illuga… Captain of the Nightmare Orioles,” Flins says, and Illuga isn’t sure if he’s talking to himself or not.

“Yes..?” He replies, suddenly feeling shy in the secluded lighthouse. It really is just them, now.

“You are the most awe-striking human to have crossed my path. I cannot contain my greed for you. Night for night, day for day, the same face appears whenever I close my eyes.”

 

“I…” Illuga swallows hard when Flins steps closer to him, sliding Illuga’s thick coat off his shoulders and dropping it over a chair before sliding both hands around Illuga’s waist.

“May I?”

“Yes, yes…”

 

Flins lips are gentle when they first meet lluga’s lips. But they turn more demanding, more hungry and lust-filled with every breath they take in each other’s proximity. Illuga stumbles backwards a few steps, back hitting the wall as Flins takes and takes without stopping—not unlike an animal starved of food—all the while his hands are as tender and cautious as they could be. The contrast is messing with Illuga’s head.

 

“Kyryll,” Illuga pants when their lips part for a moment, and their eyes meet in a haze.

“Illuga.”

“Kyryll. Take me to bed.”

 

He doesn’t have to ask twice. Illuga gasps when he is lifted up like it’s nothing, and carried towards the only bed in the lighthouse. Illuga doesn’t intend to share it with anyone else besides the fae, ever.

 

Flins starts to take off Illuga’s wear one by one. Starting at his shoes and leg warmers, having no right to look this good on his knees. He stays right there on the floor as he moves on to Illuga’s knee protectors and then his gloves, before taking off his belt and putting down the fabric holding Illuga’s Geo vision with great care. Every movement of his skilled hands has Illuga breathing heavier. It shouldn’t be this arousing to be undressed when he is in fact still in his pants and sweater—but it is.

 

“Allow me?” Flins asks one more time, one finger hooking slowly into his pants.

“Please,” is all Illuga can manage, lifting his hips up slightly. No time is wasted on his pants as Flins strips them down in one go. Instead of going straight for another piece of clothing or doing something—anything—that Illuga is hoping for right now, Flins’ first instinct is to check on his knees.

 

“They appear to have healed well,” he comments, placing a soft kiss on either knee. Illuga just nods, holding his breath as Flins litters more kisses all over his legs, up his thighs where he is sensitive. He is in that same position again in which he had first made his comment last time. Illuga’s breath stutters. He couldn’t have expected how badly he would be craving this now.

 

“Please,” Illuga mutters again, looking almost pained from Flins’ gentle stroking and kissing.

“So impatient, Young Master,” Flins whispers, moving his head closer in until it’s only inches away from where Illuga needs him most. He is practically holding his breath the entire time, so desperate for any kind of touch that he whines the moment Flins’ lips so much as brush over his clothed crotch. He doesn’t even have the mind to call out Flins on the honorific he used.

 

“Please, please Kyryll, please don’t make me wait,” he begs, already whiny, sounding strained.

“As beautiful as I couldn’t have dreamed,” Flins comments, sliding one hand under Illuga’s sweater. It makes him shudder, and Illuga is about to complain when he feels a soft kiss being pressed against his clothed bulge. His hips stutter immediately—he can’t help it. Flins keeps placing kisses where his hard length is straining against the fabric of his underwear, and it is relief and a new kind of torture all at once.

 

“Please.” It’s all Illuga seems to know how to say. He should maybe be embarrassed, that his ability to articulate himself has already been lost after such a short time, but he has no mind for that right now. All he knows is Flins’ lips on his clothed dick, kissing it up and down and occasionally licking at the fabric, driving him absolutely insane.

 

When Flins reaches the tip and decides to pay it some extra attention, Illuga can’t keep his hands to himself anymore. He reaches for Flin’s hair where his long strands begin and grips it tightly. The fae shows no negative reaction to it, so he continues to hold on to it, and even using it to guide of push at Flin’s head, which he allows without a fight.

 

“I need more,” Illuga half-moans, finally finding his voice again.

“More of what?” Flins asks, lightly squeezing at Illuga’s waist as he looks up, pausing his ministrations.

“More of you. Your hands, your mouth, I don’t care… Anything, Kyryll. Please.”

“I was never going to deny you a thing, love,” Flins says, and he sounds too sincere for Illuga not to believe him.

“Then stop calling me that and use my name,” he blurts out.

“If that’s what you want, Illuga…” Flins presses another kiss into his thigh. “Then I will do as you wish.”

 

Illuga has to take a moment to catch his breath, before he suddenly remembers something.

“You should take off your clothes, too.”

Flins nods, and to Illugas’ utter surprise, he gets up and starts to strip. Without a word. Without a fight, or any snarky remark about Illuga being impatient or whatnot. He simply takes off his coat, his boots, his pants, his belt…one after one, they are folded neatly and placed near the bed on the floor.

 

“Don’t put away the lantern.”

Flins stops in his motions, holding the lamp and standing straight again. This time, in nothing but his boxers.

“Oh?”

“I… Just put it here,” Illuga says, and looks even more shocked when Flins obliges without a comment.

 

“Who are you and what did you to my Flins?” He asks when Flins finally returns, assuming his position on his knees again. Illuga is stunned.

“I only wish to consume you, Illuga. My desires know no restraint, but I couldn’t forgive myself for moving with haste and making the experience any less pleasurable for you. I shall move at your pace, and at your command.”

“Oh…” Illuga bites his lip, letting his legs fall slightly more open. “So, I can…ask for what I wish, and you will provide it?”

“Such is my promise to you.”

 

Illuga takes a deep breath as hundreds of scenarios go through his head. He’s not sure he can make all the decisions. This is, after all, his first time. And Flins must know that, even if he hasn’t explicitly asked. He is observant enough to recognize Illuga’s uncertainty.

 

“I can’t tell you what I want,” Illuga finally admits, after the silent pressure becomes too much for him. He averts his gaze, face heating up in embarrassment. If only he had thought this through before going into it without a single clue about what he wants out of it.

 

“Then allow me to take the reigns,” Flins offers. “Whenever you realize what you wish, or not wish for, you can let me know.”

“Yes please,” Illuga says, letting out a relieved breath. Flins gets up from the ground now, and all Illuga can think about for the next moments is his muscular chest, his slim waist, and the hardened muscle under his skin, trained in battle. There are some scars littered across his chest, too, and Illuga reaches out for them, feeling over them carefully.

 

“Allow me to take this,” Flins mutters mainly out of courtesy, before finally taking off Illuga’s sweater. He gently traces the scar going down the side of Illuga’s neck to his shoulder.

“I may have been royalty in a long passed lifetime, but even nobles haven’t the privilege to worship such beauty and elegance. I am reverent,” Flins speaks, his breath hitting Illuga’s chest before his lips meet with newly exposed skin.

 

“I honor velocity over reverence,” Illuga comments, and it earns him a light chuckle from Flins.

“Of course. I shan’t keep my lover waiting.”

That word does something to Illuga, making his brain short-circuit. Lips meet his neck as Flins’ fingers find their way underneath his boxers, slowly sliding them off. Illuga helps with the last bit, and he’s completely bare now, exposed on the bed. But he doesn’t feel scared.

 

“Let me find something,” Flins says suddenly, getting up from the bed. Illuga still feels breathless and caught in the moment. He wants to tell Flins to come back to him, but his mind is too hazy to come up with the words. So he just lays there and waits for Flins return. When he approaches the bed again, he’s holding a vessel that seems to be holding a liquid.

 

“What…”

“Shhh, worry not. I will take care of you as you deserve.”

Flins climbs on top of him again, straddling Illuga’s legs. Their lips meet in a kiss, and Illuga is back in that pleasant flow state, breathing in the hot tension between them. He feels Flins moving his arms up one by one before grabbing both of his wrists and pinning them down. The next moment, he feels something wet and slightly cool against his length. It takes him a second to realize that it’s Flins’ hand.

 

It moves up and down his dick slowly, the oil he used making for a smooth glide. Illuga’s mouth stays open as he takes in the unfamiliar pleasure. It’s not like he’s never touched himself before. It just feels so different. Flins is deliberate and intentional with his movements—every stroke is calculated and drawn out to feel good. Almost tortuously slow, but that makes it even better.

 

“Kyryll— Gods…” Illuga gasps when Flins’ hand tightens on the next upstroke, and his lips find Illuga’s neck.

“Every sound falling from your lips is like a symphony of the most angelic tones,” Flins whispers into his ear, kissing right below it.

“You make it hard to stay quiet,” Illuga pants, eyebrows drawing into a tight frown of pleasure.

“There is no need for restraint. No living soul wanders this island.”

 

Illuga can only continue to breathe heavily and gasp and bite back whines while Flins seemingly makes it his mission to kiss every inch of skin on his torso and neck. His hand never lets up on Illuga’s throbbing length, his pace never picking up. Only drawing out more and more pleasure that’s clouding Illuga’s mind with every passing minute.

 

“Please, I can’t… it hurts,” Illuga pleads, trying to get his wrists free. Flins is currently busy sucking dark bruises into his skin. He sits up, then, looking into Illuga’s eyes.

 

“What do you want?” He asks. His breaths are heavy, but he doesn’t look as affected as Illuga yet, of they ignore his hard on straining against his own underwear.

“I want…you. Please. I can’t say… Please don’t make me say it.”

Flins lets out a soft chuckle.

“I once was a timid young man myself. You mustn’t think there is shame in your urges, Illuga. I will say it for you.” He finally lets go of Illuga’s wrists, running his hand down over Illuga’s sensitive chest, over his small stomach, further down until he reaches in between his legs. One finger gently pushes against the tight muscle he finds, and Illuga gasps as he feels it, looking up at Flins’ lust-drunk expression.

 

“Let me make love to you, Illuga. My dearest. Please.”

Illuga’s face must be flushed all over. He feels so hot, but he doesn’t try to hide anymore. He knows he wants this. He wants it more than anything else right now.

“Yes please. Please make love to me, Kyryll. I want it so badly.”

 

He isn’t left waiting. It seems like even Flins’ endless patience runs out easily when it comes to this. The fae reaches for the bottle of oil again and gets off Illuga’s legs. Illuga bends them instinctively, allowing Flins access to his entrance. It should be humiliating, to be so exposed to another man. But when Flins’ oily fingertips meet with his skin, and their eyes lock onto one another, he knows that there is no shame to be had in this. Only unadulterated desire for one another.

 

“You may tell me to stop at any time,” Flins says, the pad of his finger gently rubbing circles over Illuga’s puckered muscle. Illuga nods, trying his best to relax and take deep breaths. It feels odd, but pleasant, being touched so intimately in a spot where no one has ever touched him before—not even himself.

 

“You will take it well,” Flins assures him, leaning forward to place a few kisses on Illuga’s stomach, wandering up to his chest and collarbones. When he reaches Illuga’s neck, his finger finally slips inside. Only to the first knuckle, but it’s enough to have Illuga gasping and holding onto Flins’ shoulder.

 

“K-kyrill,” he gasps, breath stuttering when Flins’ finger keeps slipping in and out of his sensitive entrance. It feels much better already than he would have expected, as Flins slowly gives him more and more. Ever patiently, never straining too much. Illuga finds himself enjoying the slight feeling of fullness.

 

When a second Finger teases at his entrance and gently starts to push inside, he can feel it even more. It only keeps getting better, and he can’t even focus on the kisses that Flins is still littering all over his neck and collarbones, or the soft praises he whispers into Illuga’s ears.

 

It’s when Flins is three fingers deep inside of him, down to the last knuckle, something magical happens to him. Flins for once decides to curl his fingers—and the sound that Illuga lets out can only be described as guttural. It’s half a moan, half a scream, and his back arches off the bed in an attempt to escape, or maybe in search for more. Illuga’s previously free hand is gripping tightly onto the sheets, body rocking back into the sensation.

 

“Again, again, a-ah please, that—” He is cut off when Flins repeats the motion, and this time Illuga cries out in overwhelming pleasure. His eyes are tightly squeezing shut, mouth hanging wide open as he gasps for air between loud moans and whines. Any self control is completely forgotten as he chases after this feeling. He didn’t know it was possible to feel this good, and now he needs to feel more of it.

 

“Even the moon sisters would be put to shame by your beauty and grace,” Flins mutters, his eyes completely fixated on Illuga’s form. He is salivating at the sight of him. The way Illuga craves for his touch, cries out for more and more of the sweet pleasure that he has to offer. It’s not the first time that he indulges in such activities, but certainly the first time he finds himself so awe-struck and infatuated with another person.

 

“I can’t, I ca-ahh, Kyryll, please,” Illuga whines, his voice climbing higher with every word. He seems to tense up around Flins’ fingers, body starting to thrash.

“There’s no need to hold back,” Flins soothes him, curling his fingers once more. Darn him for having such perfectly long fingers and strong hands. Illuga wants to cry from how good they feel inside of him. He feels so on edge, ready to tip right over every moment now. And he wants to, but it’s so overwhelming and he doesn’t know if he will still get what he really wants after this.

 

But eventually, Flins’ relentless coaxing leaves him no choice. Illuga comes with a loud cry, tears finally falling from his eyes as he shakes through his orgasm and weakly rocks back against Flins’ hand. It’s all-encompassing and oh so good. He never wants to come down from this feeling, but the pleasure still slowly subsides.

 

All strength left Illuga now, his eyes remaining closed as he melts into the mattress. The pleasure isn’t assaulting his senses anymore now—rather being a pleasant buzz coursing through his limbs. He should be satisfied after this truly mind-altering orgasm. But he hasn’t had Flins in the way that he wants, yet. His eyes flutter open to see the fae looking down at him.

 

“You are the most mesmerizing sight to behold,” is the first thing that Flins says.

“I’m glad that you think so,” Illuga mutters, a weak smile forming on his face. “Your hands are quite…talented.”

“I do my best,” Flins replies. His fingers slipped out of him a moment ago already, leaving Illuga quite empty. He doesn’t like it, but he’s not sure how to ask for what he still wants, either.

 

“I hope to have sufficiently pleased my lover,” Flins purrs, leaning down to steal a soft kiss from Illuga. He returns it before looking up at Flins with round eyes.

“What if I’m not satisfied yet?” He asks carefully, as if testing the waters.

“My dearest Illuga…” Flins chuckles, threading the fingers of his clean hand through Illuga’s hair. “I myself am far from satisfied. I intend to make every minute count today, until you choose to return to your duties. If I must spend all night long doing this just to gratify you, then so be it.”

Illuga lets out a strained sound at that.

 

“You’re unreal, Kyryll. For your tendency to strain my patience, you are so eager beneath the sheets. Have you waited hundreds of years for this opportunity? I can’t imagine it being too much of a challenge for a man such as yourself to find a suitable match…”

“Don’t speak of it as if this is nothing but a fun pastime,” Flins replies, frowning lightly at him. “I am full of eagerness for you because you have entranced me with your virtuous character and alluring nature. I am not one of those who seek out lovers by chance. I own but one heart and it desires only one.”

“I wasn’t trying to imply something like that…” Illuga reaches up for Flins’ face now, cupping it wit both his hands.

 

“I don’t question our loyalty, nor your commitment. I am just amazed at how different you are as a lover, than as a friend. I quite enjoy this version of you.”

“Then allow me another demonstration,” Flins offers, his voice dropping lightly. He sounds sultry again, and it’s really messing with Illuga’s head.

“Gods, please. You are too good at this. I won’t ever be able to abstain from it again,” Illuga sighs.

 

He lets his legs fall open, feeling even more confident and comfortable now than the first time. He knows what to expect now, and he knows that Flins does it well. Flins reaches for the oil again, but this time, Illuga is feeling bold. He sits up, and while Flins is busy with the bottle, he reaches for the fae’s last piece of clothes, pulling it down abruptly. The sight that meets him makes Illuga freeze.

 

“How curious, my dear,” Flins says, looking smug. “You just couldn’t help yourself, could you? Had you asked, you know I would not deny you of a thing. But since you wanted to see for yourself, go ahead.”

Illuga gulps. His hand reaches out slowly, almost hesitantly. When it wraps around Flins’ dick, he just continues to stare at it for a moment.

“This is not going anywhere,” he says dryly, looking up now to meet Flins’ gaze.

“Is that so?”

“I mean, I— I want…to… But I… Surely, this isn’t humane,” Illuga stutters out. Flins chuckles at him.

 

“Indeed it is not. For I am no human, dear Illuga. But we oughtn’t strain you if you are indeed not inclined to go to such lengths.”

“No, I... I have to.” Illuga sounds determined now. “We’ll make it work.”

“Ambitious, are we?” Flins cups Illuga’s chin gently, pressing a kiss to his nose. “If you wish so, then I shall grant your wish without hesitation.”

 

Flins’ teasing only makes this situation so much worse—so much better. Everything becomes a blur the moment Illuga feels himself being stretched open slowly, the sensations overwhelming and all-encompassing. Flins’ brows are drawn together in a frown, the image near divine to Illuga’s eyes. He can’t help but wrap his arms around Flins’ torso as he takes inch for slow inch, feeling as though he is going to be split in half any second now. The size feels even greater than it looks, apparently.

 

“Does it hurt?” Flins asks breathlessly, holding still to allow Illuga to adjust to the stretch.

“Don’t stop,” is all he’s graced with for an answer. So he doesn’t.

The moment Flins’ abdomen meets Illuga’s thighs, Illuga comes again with a high-pitched cry. He covers his flushed face, making pitiful movements to chase after the pleasure washing over him in waves. It’s too good, and he doesn’t want it to end. His nails dig into Flins’ skin without thinking, one hand holding onto dark blue hair in search for anything to ground him. In truth, though, he doesn’t want to come down.

 

“You feel divine, Young Master,” Flins breathes, his mouth remaining open as he remains still, only feeling the rhythmic clenching of Illuga’s body around him.

“More,” is all that Illuga can come up with. It’s a plea, a confession, a demand—it doesn’t matter. Flins doesn’t need to be told twice. He begins to move his hips; gently at first before he can’t hold back any longer and starts to give in to growing need inside of him.

 

“Yes, yes- ah, Kyryll, oh gods, it’s so big, I can’t, nngh- help it…”

“Don’t hold back, love. Not for my sake,” Flins half groans, half moans, gripping tightly onto Illuga’s neck. “You are perfection. You are beauty in human form. How can I resist you, Young Master…”

Illuga doesn’t care anymore. His back arches off the bed as he cries and gasps and moans without shame. Tears stain his flushed cheeks, and a whimper escapes his throat when he feels a wet tongue cleaning them off.

 

He blinks his eyes open to look at Flins through blurry eyes, only to be completely stunned with the sight. Flins is still thrusting into him at the same steady pace with force, but he looks different now. There’s a dark aura surrounding him, and his blue eyes are glowing so brightly that Illuga could swear the light is manifesting as a physical liquid or smoke, flowing in the air. At the same time, he can see blue rays of light spreading from Flins’ back. They’re forming a shape, growing larger, brighter, until broad wings glow through the darkness in all their glory and might. Illuga thinks he has to be dreaming.

 

“F-flins…” he croakt out, still too drunk on pleasure to brink out a competent sentence. Flins doesn’t seem mind what is happening to him, nor does he ever falter. Insead, he moves even closer, lips trailing over the skin of Illuga’s neck before starting to kiss every inch of available skin. When he also starts to scrape his teeth along Illuga’s throat, the man shudders. Have Flins’ teeth always been this sharp? There’s no way to know. All he knows is the pleasure coiling tightly in his gut, threatening to snap. When sharp teeth suddenly close around his main artery, the orgasm crashes into him without warning.

 

‿̩͙⊱༒︎༻♱༺༒︎⊰‿̩͙

 

Illuga lost count of how many times he came when he finally comes to and no longer feels his prostate being assaulted. He blinks his eyes open, feeling the exhaustion keeping his body chained to the bed. Flins is nowhere to be seen.

 

It takes another minute before footsteps are coming down the stairs and Flins appears next to him, looking happy to see Illuga awake.

“How do you feel?”

Illuga opens and closes his mouth a few times, trying to sort through his thoughts and remember what led to him passing out like this.

“Did I…? You were… You had wings, and…”

 

Flins sits down on the edge of the bed, helping Illuga to sit up slowly.

“Had I been aware I would get carried away this severely, I would have given you a word of warning beforehand. My apologies, for scaring you,” Flins says sincerely as Illuga leans onto his chest.

“I wasn’t scared. Just…surprised.” He thinks for a moment, then he asks, “why did I pass out?”

“You seemed to be having quite a good time,” Flins explains. “But my stamina might be no match for humans, I suppose.”

“I see.”

 

They stay wrapped in each others arms for a while, enjoying the stillness of the moment and the sound of raindrops hitting the small window in the lighthouse.

“Flins?” Illuga looks up once more, catching the moment when Flins’ soft gaze falls onto him. “Thank you. For saving my father.”

“You’re mistaken. I am no healer. I merely did what anyone would do, as a concerned friend of yours, and also of Nikita.”

 

Illuga smiles softly, deciding that the matter isn’t worth arguing about, and leans his head against Flins’ shoulder. He’s too blissed out, still, to be bickering again. Basking in the afterglow of earlier activities, and the feeling of deep relaxation and release, he finds that Flins’ attitude doesn’t enrage him as much as usual. Maybe he did need to get laid.

 

Illuga’s gaze falls onto the lantern that still rests against the bed. It had totally slipped his mind, and Illuga reaches forward to pick it up.

“You’re quite attached to this lantern. Almost more than I am,” Flins teases.

“It carries your emotions. They’re so clear and honest in this form. How can I not?”

Flins smiles at that and presses a kiss on top of Illuga’s head.

“What about your feelings, my love? Am I permitted to know them just as clearly?”

 

At his question, a ray of moonlight falls through the small window, uncovered by the clouds, shining directly onto the pair enjoying each other’s embrace. Flins watches the moon’s reflection inside of Illuga’s eyes, and they hold that position for a moment. Illuga thinks that Flins’ eyes look like they’re holding flames of their own, threatening to burn though his flesh and reach straight for his soul. And oh, he would let them.

 

“I think I want to stay a while longer. At the cemetery. If you’ll let me.”

Flins’ eyes become a little smaller at the smile that spreads across his face, a small gleam of something beautiful shining in his gaze. A bit of joy — hope, maybe. Recognition. Something that tells him that Flins is more than satisfied with this confession.

 

“It would be my pleasure, Illuga.”

Notes:

I was literally so obsessed with Flins and Illuga when they came out I wrote this after the release of the Nod-Krai AQ but didn't finish it until recently.

I noticed halfway through that I made Illuga a pretty ragebaitable person and at first I didn't like that but then I saw tons of other people portraying him that way too and now I do like it after all. It's also kinda canon. Flins is just a very beautifully infuriating character. I love them.

I do hope you enjoyed this fic, lmk your thoughts on the two. :)