Chapter Text
I: Lohen 🗡️
There's more to Illuga than meets the eye.
Lohen first learns of this when he gets dragged along for drinks at The Flagship after a long week of expedition with Varka's knights. He's sitting at the far end of one of the benches their rowdy bunch had occupied (Demyan had agreed to have three tables connected to accommodate their large group), only half tuned in to the conversation on the table— a horror story about how the acting grandmaster had placidly remonstrated one of them for a lack of meticulousness on a report they obviously half-assed. At the opposite end of the table, Varka is clearly amused. It seems, by the prominent roar of his laughter, that he, too, had been a victim of Jean's scolding one too many times.
Meanwhile, the glass of cider in his hand is still half-full. He was never much of a drinker, secretly in part due to his low tolerance for alcohol, but more so because he likes to stay lucid, to feel everything more fully, in its utmost rawness— be it sheer joy or utter pain. Although if you ask him, it's all the same. A feeling is a feeling. The blood rushing through his veins, the blood that oozes out of an exit wound, and the blood that smears his arrows— they are all the same to him: evidence of being alive, or at least something that once was.
Lohen relaxes against the bench, leaning back on the uncomfortably hard wood— a futile gesture as if to fade himself out from conversation entirely. He peels off his gloves and with one hand, he tugs at his collar to loosen it a bit upon feeling heat start to sprawl at his neck.
A familiar pale-haired young man passes beside him, muttering a perfunctory 'excuse me' as he slips past the small space between their table and the next to make his way to one directly in front of the bar.
Frankly, Lohen's been noticing him for a while now. He'd kept glancing every now and then in the direction of the table occupied by a group of Ratniki, always searching for that glint of the young man's red earring and the auburn red peeking out amidst the deathly ash color of his hair. He recognizes him as Illuga from the investigation squad— wise beyond his years, well-respected by his comrades, somehow climbed his way to the title of squad captain despite being among the youngest of the Lightkeepers.
They say that if there was anyone who deserved to share the title of Torchforger with Solovei in the history texts of Nod-krai, it could only be this young man right here, who shone like a beacon amidst the horrors wrought by the Wild Hunt. And yet, Lohen looks at him and he sees… none of that light in his eyes, bearing only the aftermath of a battle— the blood red of his irises the only sign of life in an ash-covered landscape.
Lohen isn't so sure, but he thinks Illuga's probably caught on to his looking by now. And if he indeed has, well… this isn't a stealth mission anyway and he loses nothing by giving himself away.
Soon, the young man seems to bid one of the Lightkeepers shortly, before heading towards the doors leading to the inn. On the way, he passes by the knights' table again and catches Lohen's gaze for a moment, audibly clearing his throat before breaking eye contact as he proceeds. It tells Lohen everything he needs to know. He stops tugging at his collar and takes that as his cue to follow Illuga into the dim rusty hallway that led to the rooms at The Flagship.
The mirthful chatter and clinking of glass now muffled behind him, he saunters over to the young man leaning against the wall just across the second door down the hall. Illuga notices him and proceeds into the room with Lohen in tow.
When Lohen shuts the door behind him, Illuga is already tinkering with a lantern set down on a rusty folding metal chair beside the bed.
"Hey," Lohen says, just to make his presence known.
He takes a spot beside Illuga on the mattress and watches his companion at work. Illuga is holding a neatly rolled blunt between two fingers, carefully hovering it near the lantern to set its tip aflame.
"Sorry, can you hold this for a moment?" He gestures perfunctorily for Lohen to take the blunt from him and Lohen complies.
"Thanks. Take a hit if you want," Illuga offers thoughtfully.
"Nah, it's ok. I don't really…"
His words taper off into silence when Illuga starts to peel back his gloves by the fickle light of the flame, slowly revealing the calluses on his fingers and the scars at the back of his hand. It's not until Illuga huffs a laugh, now looking up at him after setting the gloves down on the chair that Lohen realizes he'd been staring.
Lohen hands him back the blunt.
"You sure? It's just to keep your mind at ease."
"Eh, It's not really my style. I'd much rather take it out on a fight."
"Suit yourself," Illuga says with a shrug before lying down on his back against the mattress.
"So… Lohen, right?" Illuga asks with a curious lilt in his tone and pauses to take a puff. "I've always wondered if you're as terrifying as they say."
Lohen lies down on his side to face Illuga, elbow propped up against the mattress with his head leaned into the palm of his hand.
"Yeah? Why don't you be the judge of that?"
Illuga looks to him and smiles, seeming to have an answer at the ready, like he'd already scrutinized the entirety of his being back at the tavern when Lohen wasn't looking.
"There are worse things to be scared of," Illuga answers, eyes glued to the dingy ceiling above them.
Lohen feels as if he's witnessing a different version of Illuga right now, though it's not like he even knew what he was usually like in the first place. Call it an instinct of sorts, perhaps, but maybe it was just his own delusion feeding itself, convincing him that Illuga was showing him something special, something secret, something reserved just for him.
Reeling at the thought, Lohen humors the young man.
"And you know what I've always wondered? If you were as full of hope as they say—" Lohen gestures in exclamation with his free hand. "—the youngest heir to the grand majestic title of Torchforger!"
"And…" There's a pensive emptiness in the way Illuga pauses. "…what do you think?"
Clouds of smoke form intermittently between them as Illuga huffs out a chuckle.
The truth is Lohen's already conjectured an answer to this since they were at the tavern, but he'd realized that that answer was… well, it was too complex, too heavy for this kind of evening. The question is left hanging in the air, soon dissipating into the vents along with the smoke.
The room is quiet save for the muffled buzz of the tavern and the slow pace of their breaths. Lohen watches the smoke cast its ghostly shadows upon Illuga's face, skin lit warmly by the flickering lantern flame. His gaze drifts down to Illuga's neck where a scar peeks out beneath his coat now only barely draping his shoulder. Lohen tugs a finger at his collar to loosen it again, subtly making sure Illuga sees the red mark that the collar had left on his neck.
When Illuga's eyes are on him, Lohen makes a move to test the waters.
He places a hand on top of Illuga's palm in the space between them and traces from the dip of his palm, the skin where the fingers connected down to the fingertips, seeking out every hardened callus there was. Lohen's breath catches, realizing just how rough and hardened Illuga's hands had become— to the point that the little patches of soft skin that remained almost seemed out of place to him.
Well, shit. He'd just imagined the thought of those calloused hands all over him and he can already feel the warmth rushing down between his thighs.
Their eyes meet for a split second and that's all it takes for the geysers to stream.
Illuga scoots over to straddle Lohen between his legs. Struggling at first, he eventually manages to peel Lohen's jacket off haphazardly, while Lohen lets his arms fall limp above his head like a prey who had succumbed to the rules of the hunt. Illuga's coat now fully discarded, Lohen swallows at the revelation of scars sprawling Illuga's arms and the thick of his shoulders. Lohen urges him closer with one hand on his back, while he slips the other under Illuga's shirt to palm at the rough patches of skin on his stomach, his chest, his sides, tracing hungrily at the fissures etched on Illuga's back as he does so.
Illuga leans closer until his head is burrowed into the other's neck. Lohen gasps at the feeling of Illuga's calloused fingers grazing the skin of his nape, slowly tracing along the sore lines that his collar had left on the skin there. He lets out a noise at the feeling of hot breath against his skin, the sensation of Illuga's mouth sucking and kissing while tugging at his collar practically drinking out every ounce of sanity left in him.
A commotion is heard from the other side of the door and Illuga… stops. The voices soon come to pass the room and the drunken frenzy all but fades into the distance, yet his companion remains frozen in place.
"…Illuga?" Lohen tries to rouse him.
A beat.
"Shitshitshit. I'm sorry."
He remains buried like that against Lohen for at least ten more seconds before finally springing up from the bed. He begins frantically fixing his hair, his shoes and gathering his coat, repeatedly muttering apologies as he does so, while Lohen only can only lie back and watch Illuga's frenzied movements in utter confusion.
"I'm really really sorry about this. I can't do this after all. I… I have to go, I'm sorry." Illuga swiftly grabs the lantern before rushing out of the room in haste.
What the hell?
The door shuts with a thud and just like that, Lohen is left alone in the dark. The only light into the room slips from the gap under the door. He lets out a sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose as he tries to make sense of what just happened yet still feeling stupidly horny despite it all. When Lohen sits up, his knee hits the leg of the metal chair though his body hardly even registers any pain from the harsh contact.
How frustrating.
They'd barely even started and it's already over.
And yet, too, how strange. Illuga had left him alone in the dark with desires all pent up and unsatiated, but he can't even be mad. If anything, the deprivation had only left him wanting more. It made him feel all sorts of crazy inside— the way Illuga had built him up like that, only to pull away and leave him with this gaping hole that now only he can fill.
Light from the gap under the door illuminates something that had fallen on the bedroom floor… it's Illuga's gloves, he recognizes.
Well, there's an idea.
Instinctively, Lohen takes them and lets his back fall hastily against the mattress. He dons on the glove in one hand, props himself up on one elbow, and undoes the buttons on his trousers haphazardly.
Lohen takes a deep breath.
The last thing he sees is a glimpse of smoke from the unfinished blunt that still lay beside him on the bed.
He thinks of Illuga's eyes— all ashes and dust and smoke with barely any light to show for it.