Chapter Text
Lumine felt her heart jump at the sight of him.
It really is him.
She wasn’t really sure why, but at the last minute, she had some kind of nagging worry that perhaps it wouldn’t have been him at all, and that this was all some elaborately cruel prank to make her confess to her most private desires, but now, she felt she could kiss the stars themselves in thanks for her good fortune, because there—
In front of her, framed by the large, sunny windows overlooking lush, green gardens and the plush, velvet curtains pulled as far to the side as their tracks could allow, was Ajax, tall and broad-shouldered and dashing, in what Lumine assumed might have possibly been his nicest clothes: a vest that was threadbare in spots, one mismatched red button amongst black ones, an undershirt that was tinged yellow and creased with stubborn wrinkles along the sleeves, and black boots that were covered in scuff marks and fastened with fraying laces. He turned at the sound of the door opening to face her, ocean blue eyes lighting up when they landed on her, a roguishly charming smirk pulling at his lips. The early morning sun made his orange hair glow incandescent, and even as it cast soft shadows along the boyish planes of his face, it also highlighted the star system of freckles that dotted his cheeks. He was, as always, Lumine thought, so devilishly handsome.
“Ajax,” Lumine said with a sigh, almost too dreamy to be a simple greeting, but she couldn’t help the way his presence seemed to relax the tension in her shoulders, soften the edges of her eyes, and round the corners of her lips.
“Miss Honourary Knight,” Ajax said, bowing comically deep. Lumine rolled her eyes at him, crossing the room to stand closer, stopping only once she had reached the minimum for what could still be considered a “respectable distance.” Maybe even a little too close, if you asked Jean.
Maybe not close enough, if you asked Lumine.
“How many times must I tell you,” Lumine pouted, “to simply call me Lumine?”
“You needn’t,” Ajax chuckled, “but I enjoy the reminder.” He held out his hand in offering, and gleefully, Lumine raised her own to place in his, a vague sense of déjà vu washing over her—only this time, she had no desire to reject the attention. In fact, she would have liked even more of it, as long as it was his.
Lumine watched with baited breath as Ajax slowly brought her hand to his face, refusing to break eye contact as he did so, the sparkle in his eyes morphing into something that felt borderline dangerous as his head dipped lower.
Though she liked to believe she was keeping up pretenses very well, she was also vaguely sure that there was no universe in which Ajax did not miss the tremble in her delicate fingers as he wrapped his around hers. The leather of his gloves was rough and faded, thinner in some places than others, coarse from heavy use; it scratched at her skin and tickled her palm, but Lumine didn’t mind at all, especially not when she could still feel the heat of Ajax’s hand through it, warming much more than just her fingers. If Lumine could have changed anything about the moment though, she would have wished for the offending fabric to have been absent all together.
“I hope you can accept my sincerest apologies,” Ajax said, gently pressing his lips, still cold from the crisp spring air, against the back of her hand, “Lumine.” His breath was hot and wet, ghosting across her skin and curling teasingly around her fingers, a shuddering contrast to the cool press of his lips. She could feel the brush of his them as he spoke, the drag of them against her sensitive skin, leaving hot streaks in their wake. His voice was so decadently low and sweet, rumbling in his chest as he uttered her name, Lumine almost mistook it for syrup on his tongue, and though she had unfortunately never tasted it herself, she was sure it tasted better than any jam or honey or nectar—what she wasn’t sure of is whether she wanted to taste it or whether she wanted to hear it again. His eyes bore deep into hers, reaching in and prodding at the fire in the pit of her stomach with annoyingly practised ease.
“I suppose I shall forgive you this once,” she mumbled, barely aware of her own body in favour of paying attention to his.
“As gracious as in my dreams,” he grinned, lips continuing to trace heated patterns against her skin in a way that made her efforts to regulate her shaky breathing utterly hopeless.
Ajax allowed himself the indulgence of lingering for just a moment longer against her skin, eyes softening as Lumine squeezed his hand timidly, with so little pressure he could have almost mistaken it for his imagination. He responded with a firm squeeze of his own, and delighted at the sight of her eyelashes fluttering helplessly at his silent reply, making sure to pay extra attention—whether he wanted to or not—to the small tuck of her bottom lip between her teeth. Then slowly, reluctantly, as if to drag the moment out for as long as possible, he returned to his upright posture, letting their hands fall away from each other and return to their sides, each already feeling colder without the other.
Ajax wore his adoration handsomely on his features as she tried to gradually reorient herself, satisfied just to have been given yet another chance to bask in her presence again, taking the chance to drink in every detail of her that he could before they had to part ways again: her golden hair and honeyed eyes, the gentle curve of her round cheeks that were preciously quick to redden, her sweet, cherry lips, shiny with gloss and difficult to look away from. (In fact, Ajax thought he spied a small smear of jam along the edge of her bottom lip, making his fingers twitch with the urge to reach out and brush it away for her—or better yet, he mused, to be so lucky as to be that smear of jam himself.) The sun had always loved Lumine, Ajax thought. It illuminated her like it illuminated no one else, drenching her in its warm rays and making her glow like something angelic. And if the sun had no say in the way she shined, then he was sure it was the work of the gods, who were simply using it as a spotlight to fawn over their most treasured creation.
Lumine took yet another deep breath, trying to clear her head of the feel of Ajax’s breath against her skin—a difficult task, she had to admit, especially when she could not stop her base instincts from desperately clinging to the still-heated sensations dancing along the back of her hand, her mind wandering rudely to daydreams in which his breath was ghosting over other expanses of skin. And that was not even to mention how each successive breath only served to fill her lungs more and more with the heady scent of pine and salt water and eucalyptus and him, until it was leaving foggy clouds of Ajax all over her centres of reasoning, rendering them largely useless.
“Charming as ever,” Lumine choked out, doing her best to chase the rush of blood away from her skin through sheer force of will alone. “But I’m sure you didn’t come here to exchange sugared nothings with me.” Ajax raised an eyebrow.
“Can’t I?” he said. “I happen to have quite the sweet tooth, you know.”
“I’m well aware,” Lumine said. When she was home, she saw Ajax often—nearly daily—and she was sure he was never without some kind of baked treat. “I suspect you must be more vatrushka than man at this point.”
Ajax pouted, so lovely and so handsome, it almost reminded Lumine of a puppy.
“I train you and your brother in sword fighting for hours at a time everyday,” he said. “I think I deserve a vatrushka or two.” Lumine giggled. As far as she was concerned, he could have a whole bakery’s worth of vatrushki if he’d liked—as long as it made him happy.
“Fine, I shall cede my point on the vatrushki, then. Indulge away,” Lumine said airily, holding her arms up in surrender, the teasing smile still on her lips, “But before you do, indulge me just this once and tell me what it is you are doing here?”
The smirk that zipped across Ajax’s lips was enough to make Lumine shiver. Perhaps she should have reconsidered her wording.
“Of course I can,” he said, “After all, indulging you Lumine, is my true passion.” Lumine scoffed and looked away just in time to suppress the blush that threatened her cheeks at his wink.
“This is certainly the first I’ve ever heard of this new venture of yours,” she said, eyeing him warily. “Have you been drinking? It’s only a quarter past ten—a touch early, isn’t it?”
“Can a man not dedicate his life to the whims of a beautiful lady anymore?” Lumine rolled her eyes as Ajax’s gesturing grew more and more animated by the second. “Where’s your sense of romance, Lumine?”
“So it’s the romance serials for you, as well.”
“I spied a couple on the bookshelves before you came in,” Ajax chuckled. Lumine’s eyes followed his to the line of carved, wooden bookshelves along the far wall, and sure enough, the colourful spines of multiple romance serials (all courtesy of Yae Publishing House, Lumine noted) lined the shelves—certainly more than a couple. “Tonia especially loves the one about the prince who saves the princess from her witch of a step-mother. I believe there's also a talking horse.”
Lumine did not recall any talking horses in any of the romance serials she had read, but then again, she hadn’t read very many. Perhaps Yoimiya or Navia might know—she ought to ask later.
“A touch cliché, but I suppose she’s still young,” Lumine said fondly.
“Oh? And what would you have her read instead?” Ajax asked, leaning in slightly. Maybe it was just a trick of the light, but Lumine thought he almost looked genuinely interested. She hummed softly.
“Well,” she said after a brief moment, “there’s one about a loyal knight who saves his princess from her awful husband, who tries to use her as a bargaining chip for more wealth and power.” Ajax frowned.
“It sounds…very political.” Lumine frowned.
“It is.”
“You know, Lumine, I’m…not so sure…” Ajax trailed off, eyes glancing back to the bookshelves.
“That thirteen year old girls enjoy it when their love stories revolve heavily around the politics of the situation?” Lumine finished for him, an amused smile playing on her lips.
“Something like that,” he chuckled.
“Well, should I come across any others with communicative farmland creatures, I shall be sure to let you know,” she said. “But I digress. You didn’t come here, I’m sure, for my thoughts on romance serials either.” After a beat, Lumine added, “And if you did, perhaps you probably shouldn’t have.”
“Eager as always, to get to the heart of the matter,” Ajax said. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d accuse you of attempting to see me off as soon a possible.” He leaned in closer still, blue eyes sparkling with mischief, the smell of his cologne pressing closely into her bubble, serving only to fog up her mind up once again. Lumine gulped.
I could never.
“Please, don’t tempt me,” Lumine said, softer than she would have liked. She watched as Ajax’s smile faltered just so, the mischief falling out of it, leaving behind something that both thrilled and terrified her.
“It’s been so long since we last spoke, and already you’re eager to be rid of me,” he said, tone still light and playful, despite the shift in tension. “How you wound me, Lumine.”
“Don’t be ridiculous, Ajax. It has only been a week,” she said.
“It’s been over a week,” he said. “Nearly two. We haven’t spoken since last Tuesday.” Lumine raised a brow, looking up to meet Ajax’s gaze.
“You’ve been counting?”
“You haven’t?”
Lumine’s eyes flickered away. Of course she had been counting. She always counted. She sighed, though it did nothing to alleviate the heaviness materialising in the recesses of her chest.
“Surely you didn't travel halfway across the kingdom,” she said, struggling to keep the evenness in her voice, “to inform me of something I already knew.” Ajax laughed, a gentle, soothing one. Lumine felt her breath evening out, admittedly helped along by Ajax standing straight again. Though a part of her was loathe to feel him move away, another part of her—the part that was trying her best to keep her composure—was relieved at the same time, eyes darting out the window once again, pulse slowing down.
“Not a valid enough reason?” he asked. Lumine scoffed.
“The journey is a week long, Ajax,” she said. “You’d be a madman.”
“Well,” Ajax laughed again, making Lumine’s eyes shimmer with affection, "if that reason doesn’t please the lady, then I have others.” She tilted her head, curiosity suddenly sparked.
“Is that so?” she said. “Let’s hear another, then.” Without missing a beat, Ajax said,
“I wanted to see you.”
Lumine felt her heart stop, taken aback by the candour, the sincerity in his words and in his gaze as his eyes locked on to hers. She felt the gleeful flutter of something peculiar knock incessantly against her ribcage, so eager to escape, it took every fibre of her being to make sure she stood rooted to the spot instead of allowing her forever traitorous nerves to launch her somewhere warm and solid and orange-haired. "I wanted to see you" etched itself neatly into the folds of her brain, tucking itself away despite Lumine insisting otherwise, pleading for her brain to cooperate with her, to focus instead on making her exhales a little less shaky and her pulse a little less rapid.
“Very funny, Ajax,” she managed to stammer out before the silence grew suspicious, though there was no hiding the breathiness in her voice. “I gather the journey must have been smooth. You have always had a remarkable capacity for humour, and I see it is still intact.”
Ajax only hummed in response, tender gaze still fixated on his golden comrade, even as hers darted to and fro, from various points in the room, out the window, on his face, and then back to his eyes again.
“Yes,” he murmured, “I’m glad you think so.” Lumine gulped, hoping that she could somehow redirect that oxygen into her lungs because each successive breath was simply not bringing in enough air anymore.
“Any other reasons, then?” Lumine asked, unsure she could take another admission so gentle and so genuine, but yearning for it regardless. To Lumine’s relief, however, she did not have to grapple with either—at least not for now.
“Plenty, if it should please the lady,” Ajax huffed in amusement. “But I shall save my comedic stylings for another time, perhaps. It wouldn’t do to play all my cards now.” He turned to the side table behind him, and picked up a long, black box. “Actually, I came bearing gifts. Or well, a gift.”
Ajax held the sleek black container towards Lumine, supporting it with both hands.
“A gift?” she echoed, setting her letter aside.
He nodded, stretching his arms to hold it closer to her, eyes expectant as she looked over the item in his hands with a curiosity he couldn’t help but find cute.
“Go on then,” he said. “It won’t bite.”
Ajax watched as Lumine gingerly pried open the top. Anticipation coiled in his stomach, pressed like a spring on a trap, waiting for even the smallest flicker of emotion over her pretty golden eyes. His tongue darted out briefly to wet his lips, his teeth chewed on the inside of his cheeks, and his eyes itched from how little he blinked. Lumine’s sharp gasp punctuated the silence of the room, and for a brief moment, Ajax felt a strong stir of something black and inky and bitter in his veins, but Lumine was truly an angel through and through, and the familiar, warm rush of relief flooded his system as he watched honey-sweet eyes sparkle first with surprise, then recognition, and then happiness. Her delighted smile was near-blinding, but Ajax refused to look away, if only so that he could burn the sight onto his corneas, in the hopes that he might be treated to the vision of an angel every time he closed his eyes.
“Oh, Ajax,” she breathed, in a way he loved to hear. “This is beautiful.”
Lumine’s voice was as delicate and as reverent as her touch, fingers tracing the cold steel of the blade, the swirls on the grip, the smooth bevels on the pommel.
“I finished it last week,” he said. “Double-folded steel, and a cor lapis inlay on the handle.”
Lumine held her breath—even breathing on the gift felt sacrilege. As her eyes traced over every last inch of Ajax’s handiwork, she became convinced that, without a doubt, this was the most exquisite piece of weaponry she had ever seen. Her heart was caught somewhere between either wanting to display it somewhere safe, so that she might protect it from ever tarnishing, so that she could look upon it at all times and think of him, or taking it with her wherever she went, so that she could bring it into battle and let its edge savour its first taste of blood, so that she could carve the image of it into legend and glory like it deserved, so that she could always have a piece of him at her side, whether it be in her battles, in her travels, or beyond.
“For me?” she asked, voice pitching so high, it was nearly a squeak. Ajax gave her a wry look.
“Well, I certainly didn’t endure a week of travel for Jean.”
Lumine gulped, hands shaking in the presence of what was, ostensibly, perfection.
“May I?”
“Please.”
Like a devotee being handed a holy relic, Lumine carefully took the sword from its case. It truly was a work of art—to say nothing of how it performed, but just on appearance alone, it was unbelievably stunning. The kind of sword, Lumine thought, that you saw in fairy tales. She almost wouldn’t have believed that a human forged it himself, if it hadn’t been Ajax.
In her hands, it felt like magic—as though she needn’t try at all to wield it, like the sword itself had been created with every aspect of hers in mind. The grip slotted in perfectly against the palm of her hand, the length of blade just long enough for it to still feel like an extension of herself, the weight of it balanced evenly against her grip, tipping ever so slightly to account for her (bad—according to Ajax) posture when she parried.
Lumine was aware that Ajax had been in an apprenticeship with the local blacksmith, but in all the times prior when she had visited the workshop before, she had never come across something so extraordinary. She found herself increasingly awestruck at Ajax’s numerous talents these days—first swordfighting, then fishing, then cooking, and now this? What else was he hiding behind that irresistible smile and those charming eyes?
“Ajax, this is amazing,” Lumine gushed, breathless in her admiration. Ajax chuckled, his self-satisfied smile growing tender.
“Of course,” he said, voice dipping lower, into something that felt delicate and fragile, that might shatter if they weren’t careful, “Anything for you, Lumine.”
Lumine felt her pulse stutter at his words. He was doing it again—the sincerity, the candour, the I-was-joking-around-before-but-I’m-not-joking-now. She felt her hand tighten around the grip of the sword, the cold material digging lightly into her palm—uncomfortable, but not painful. She almost felt herself laugh. Was he chiding her for her grip even in his forging?
Eager to leave all of Navia’s nice vases, furniture, and houseplants intact, Lumine opted instead to return the blade to its case before it caught anything on its razor sharp edge. With just as much care as before, Lumine set the sword in its holdings, and Ajax slipped the lid back on afterwards. Then, with some dramatic flourish, he held the case out to her, something that looked like fondness in his eyes when they met hers, and Lumine couldn’t help but feel like she was accepting more than just a sword from him. Shakily, and unable to tear her eyes away from his, Lumine accepted his gift, clutching it close to her chest, for fear of losing something that had become so important to her despite the relatively short time she had known it.
“Thank you, Ajax,” she murmured. “It’s perfect. You’re really…” Lumine trailed off, mind quieting the longer she gazed into his eyes, so blue and so deep, prettier, she thought, than even the sky at her brightest.
“Really…?” Ajax prompted, so softly, she wanted to nestle into the tenor of his voice, pull it over her like a blanket and drift off to sleep. But though half of her mind seemed plenty content to stare into the blue until the end of time, the other half raced desperately to find a singular word to encapsulate everything that Ajax was to her—
“Perfect,” she whispered, and Lumine wasn’t sure if she repeated the word because that’s what she truly thought of him, or if it was because her brain was still busy drowning itself in his ocean eyes.
Whatever it was, it didn’t matter anyway, because it meant Lumine got to watch the faint bloom of pink across Ajax’s adorably freckled cheeks. Though it softened the edges on some, making them harder to see (a crime, Lumine thought), it only served to further emphasise the mesmerising blue of his now bashful eyes. He coughed out a short laugh, a little stilted and a little awkward, and yet, Lumine found, no less endearing.
“You flatter me, Lumine,” he whispered.
“I don’t believe truths count as flattery,” she said, equally as sincere and as candid and as I-really-meant-it-that-time as Ajax had been.
Lumine wasn’t sure how long they stood there, eyes fixated on each other, a comfortable silence lulling between them. Lumine wasn’t sure of the amount of times she caught Ajax’s eyes flickering away, to something lower, to some part of her below her eyes. Lumine wasn’t interested in counting the amount of times she let her own eyes slip to his lips, nor was she interested in detailing how desperately she would have liked to feel them—against her lips, against her skin, against her hair, against anything, so long as she could feel them again, and the warm, tingly breath of his that left heated patterns on her, so beautiful and intimate, she wished she could brand them onto her skin. And most importantly, Lumine was not ready to admit how badly she ached to have her lips on him, any part of him he would have allowed her, any part of him she could reach; she would have willingly died, if it meant that she would get to feel the heat of his skin against—
A soft, rhythmic tap against the door startled Lumine out of her hazy, blue trance, startled Ajax out of his golden one, and had the pair awkwardly clearing their throats as they straightened themselves out, unsure of when they began to lean in so close.
“You’re staying at Lady Caspar’s for another two weeks, correct?” Ajax asked, and Lumine could have sworn he sounded about as breathless as she felt.
“Yeah,” Lumine stuttered, voice weak in her throat, “yeah, I mean yes. Yes. Two more weeks, correct.” Lumine missed the look that passed over Ajax’s eyes—it had been so fast she almost would have believed she imagined it—but the forlorn smile that draped itself over his lips tugged at her chest, tugged until she, too, became aware of the creature of disappointment that was perched on her ribcage. In the corner of her eye, she caught the flash of Ajax’s hand rise and fall back down again, and she wondered briefly what for.
“It’s only three weeks longer, then,” he muttered, more to himself, it seemed, than to her.
Lumine shifted slightly, feeling the melancholy settle onto her face in a way she wished it didn’t. Besides, at this point, it had already been essentially two weeks, and—
“Five weeks,” she murmured, “is an awful long time to go without—” She gulped. Tried to breathe. Tried to continue, “without—” and interrupted herself again with another thick swallow despite the dryness rapidly plaguing her mouth, despite having already toiled over these facts weeks ago. But she didn’t need to continue; Ajax knew what she was trying to say. He always did.
“Without any lessons?” he supplied gently. “I know.”
“I get out of practise, you know,” she whispered back shakily. “Really quickly.”
“I know,” Ajax said. “I do, too. Even faster than you, I bet.” Lumine scoffed, though the sound held none of its usual bite.
“Oh yeah?” she asked. “Even the great Tartaglia falls out of practise?” Ajax chuckled softly, the sound barely reaching past her ears, like he did it just for her, just for them.
“Especially him,” he said, voice growing hoarser as he continued, “And so quickly, to boot. Even a minute spent away from—” Ajax paused here, as though he were rifling through his mind for the right word, “battle, and he begins to tarnish. Like some old fool.” Lumine laughed, but it sounded a little more hollow—a little more watery—than usual.
“I don’t think he’s a fool,” she said. “If anything, I’m the fool. For having hired a trainer so quick to regress, I mean.” Ajax hummed, the sound soft and warm, threading its way around Lumine, through her skin and into her bones.
“Perhaps,” he mused, “but I suspect he thinks of his employment to your estate as the luckiest thing to have ever happened to him.”
“You think so?” Lumine asked, incredulity swimming in her eyes as she moved her gaze from his chest back to his, still so blue and still so mesmerising, it was difficult not to lean in.
“I have it on pretty good authority that the few years he has spent training you,” he said, a wry smile on the lips Lumine couldn’t stop thinking about, “have been the happiest years of his life.” Lumine’s heart thumped wildly, so wildly, she worried he could hear it from where he was standing. Her pulse raced faster and faster, drumming loudly in her ears. She could hardly hear the next words out of his mouth, and the shaking had spread like a disease from her breath to her fingers to her lips to her vision.
“The…happiest?” she choked out, barely audible. Ajax smiled at her, gentle and kind and—her vision was blurring a little, so she must have been wrong, but she could have sworn it was—loving.
“The happiest. So please, even if you deserve a better teacher, one who isn’t so degenerative, one with a nice title and stately training grounds to treat you to, one who can afford to give you an armory even the Knights would be taken aback to see,” Ajax murmured, voice rumbling deep in his chest, “don’t give up on him just yet.”
Never. Lumine shuddered. I could never. But—
“You don’t think he’ll tire one day of teaching and leave?” Lumine asked, her voice coming out small—so much smaller and desperate and pathetic than she wanted it to. “Isn’t he always longing for the thrill of the battle? Not—”
Lumine wasn’t sure if it was the question she asked, or the way she looked, or the way she sounded, but she isn’t sure she’s ever seen Ajax’s eyes looking so resigned.
“Nothing could compare,” he rasped.
“To the thrill of the battle?” Lumine asked.
“No, to—” Ajax stopped. Something painful flashed in his eyes before he closed them that made Lumine’s pulse zip with worry. Was it something she had said? Something she had done? Whatever it was, Lumine desperately wanted to reach out and soothe it, wanted so badly to press herself into him and chase away whatever was hurting him, to run her fingers over the smooth planes of his face and massage away the furrow in his brow.
“You’re not incorrect, Lumine,” Ajax started again, this time his voice more measured and even. “The rush of a good fight, the excitement of battle—these are important to him, but they aren't the most important things to him.” Lumine nodded slowly, golden eyes loyally tracing blue ones as he spoke.
“What is, then?” she asked. Ajax's sigh was heavy, heavy enough Lumine almost thought she felt the brush of it against her face.
“His weapon, of course,” he responded.
“His weapon?”
“As you know, a warrior is nothing without his weapon,” Ajax said firmly. Lumine shivered under his increasingly resolute stare, goosebumps breaking out over her arms even in the heated room. “His weapon sees him through every battle; she is just as—if not more—important to him as his own well-being.”
Lumine’s breath caught in her throat as she let the sound of Ajax’s voice wash over her, his words twirling around her limbs, snaking their way over and under her form, holding her in place as he continued,
“Without his weapon, he would be left stranded and alone. He wouldn’t be able to fight anymore, and not just because he would be left unarmed.”
Lumine’s exhale was shaky and she felt the sting of something behind her eyes. Even as her lower lip quivered and her tongue felt heavy in her mouth, she asked, “Couldn’t he just find another?”
“No,” Ajax said, so quickly, he almost interrupted her. “No, it has to be her—it has to be the weapon that he…” Ajax gulped. “He trusts his weapon with his life, with his soul, with everything that makes him him. Without her, there’s a hollowness inside of him, an emptiness that eats away at him from the inside, and it most certainly cannot be filled by just any old blade. No, no other weapon would do. It has to be...the one. Besides, once you have had a taste of what heaven is, it is very hard to consider much else.”
Lumine thought she was getting quite light-headed. Ajax’s voice was growing quieter, softer, fonder, and she was only getting warmer, warmer, warmer—her breathing was getting shallower, and she couldn’t tell if it was because of the way those words, having snaked their way through her veins, were now gripping at her heart, squeezing so hard until she wasn’t sure if she was going to cry or bleed first, or if it was the heated stare she couldn’t tear her eyes away from, even as her vision started to blur. Whatever it was, she didn’t care, because as long as Ajax kept speaking to her like that and looking at her like that, Lumine would have listened for an eternity,
“That’s how important she is to him—that every moment away from her feels dark and desolate, and it doesn't matter if it's three hours or three months, it is always too long," Ajax frowned, an unfamiliar look washed over his eyes, one that Lumine thought looked an awful lot like self-loathing. "But he knows that he will never truly own her, that she doesn't really belong to him, so he is trying his best to learn to live without her. To accept that one day, she may need more than he has to give, and when that day comes, all he hopes he can have is the knowledge that she at least thought he was a good swordsman.” Ajax smiled at her, but it creased like a frown, before he added with a humourless chuckle, “And maybe visitation rights.”
Lumine watched helplessly as a shadow passed over Ajax’s brilliant eyes and stole the light out of them. Her fingers pressed restlessly into the cool surfaces of the case in her hands, unable to decide between reaching out to him to find some way to chase that shadow away, or reaching into herself, to find the thread of those words that were squeezing so painfully at her heart and pull and pull and pull until they stopped trying to bury themselves in her physical being, so that she could instead layer them one on top of the other, like the layers of the medovik from the bakery across town with the cat in the window that Ajax loved to buy for her and then steal bites out of, and feed them to the immaterial part of her soul so that she could keep them there forever and ever and ever, so that if even a portion of her soul survived her death, she would still remember what Ajax said to her, in the drawing room of the Caspar estate, on a Sunday morning in the early spring, after she had breakfast alone without Navia or Yoimiya or Aether, after he had gifted her the most delicate, fragile, priceless thing in the world, after she had looked into his eyes—so clear and blue and still prettier than the sky—and saw a reflection of her silly, foolish, love-addled self gazing back.
“Ajax,” she barely managed to choke out, clutching his gift closer to her chest, like it might somehow soothe the pounding of her heart and stop the choked exhale that she tried so hard to keep steady, but she couldn’t help how much it sounded like a sob.
“Lumine?” came Ajax’s voice from above her, closer than before, laced with worry, with hesitation, with something Lumine hated to hear him have to struggle with. “Are you all right?”
She nodded her head even if she didn’t mean it, because how could she be all right after that? How could she see him off after that? How could she not throw all of her responsibilities to the wind and follow him home? How could she look anyone in the eye again and pretend like she wasn’t already in too deep?
Perhaps the gods had been smiling down on her that day though, because then she felt it, the warm, comforting brush of calloused skin against her cheek, wiping away damp trails she didn’t even realise were there. Eyes widening, she looked up to see Ajax looking down at her with a smile so tender, it eased the tight constriction in her chest immediately. To her delight—her dumb, pathetic, delight—he had opted to remove his glove before wiping her tears, allowing her the rare indulgence of feeling his skin against hers, of relishing in the gentle brush of his thumb against her cheek, of his fingers tracing her jaw. She was leaning into his hand before she had realised it, nuzzling into the palm, and already feeling better for it. Her eyes fluttered closed in contentment before she could think to worry about any possible onlookers from outside the window, and she allowed herself this one tiny taste of heaven, of Ajax’s skin against hers, so gentle and delicate, like he was just as afraid of shattering the dream as she was.
“Better?” he asked softly, thumb continuing to draw smooth lines against her skin long after the wetness was gone. Lumine hummed blissfully, lips pulling into a smile at the sound of his voice.
“Better,” she murmured, pulse still racing and crystalflies still dancing in her chest, but the ache against her heart had dissolved, and in its place, a hand, big and calloused and warm, was holding it like it was much more fragile than it really was. Even as Ajax pulled his hands away—slowly, with as much hesitance as he could afford—Lumine could still feel the ghost of him against her skin.
“I apologise for earlier,” Ajax said, “Perhaps I had said too much—”
“No!” Lumine said quickly, almost shouted, if the surprised widening of Ajax’s eyes were anything to go by. “No, please, Ajax. Don’t apologise. You haven’t said too much at all, I just…”
Lumine glanced away, furrowing her brow. When she looked back, she saw him waiting, something that shined like hope in his eyes.
“I should be the one to apologise, Ajax,” she said. “I…reacted poorly.” He opened his mouth to speak, but Lumine soldiered on, offering him a sheepish smile, “I just couldn’t help but be moved by it, I suppose. After all, I think Tartaglia is a very good swordsman, the best swordsman anyone could ever dream of. I hope…” Lumine swallowed, a sudden shyness pricking her nerves, “I hope that he never has to give up his weapon—I hope he stays with her for the rest of his life.” The sound of Ajax’s breath hitching made Lumine’s stutter as well, her next few words coming out a bit strangled, “After all, I’m sure she feels empty without him too, and if that’s the case, I should think that the only person who could really make her happy is him.”
Lumine winced a little—her words did not come out quite as nicely as his, but it didn’t worry her in the slightest, not when Ajax’s smile only seemed to grow as she spoke, which only made hers grow in kind.
“Lumine,” he breathed, shoulders sagging in what looked like relief, the tension in his jaw releasing.
“Oh, Ajax,” she sighed, and though she didn't mean to sound wistful, she most certainly did, “You’ve convinced me. I shall have to keep this Tartaglia fellow in my employ. After all, he sounds positively perfect.” She giggled softly to herself, tapping a finger against the black case still in her arms. “Besides, I already have my own title, my own training grounds, and a sword more precious than anything money could ever buy. I needn’t find someone else for things I already have; that’s just extra paperwork.”
Ajax laughed, reverberant and rich and like sunshine shining on her soul.
“And here I thought I had secured my good friend's continued employment with my excellent persuasive skills,” he said, “but it was all in thanks to your distaste for paperwork.”
“You worry too much, Ajax. I’ve no idea what put the idea in you that I was seeking to replace him at all.”
As if he could ever be replaced, she thought to herself.
Another round of taps on the door sounded just then, a little more hurried than before. Lumine wanted to pout, to complain to Jean for rushing them, but she knew any moment she could let Ajax steal her away was a gift, and she always took whatever she could get, especially when it came to him.
“In three weeks’ time then,” Ajax sighed, not without disappointment, but bowing in departure all the same.
“In three weeks'—oh! Actually, before you go, Ajax, I have something for you as well,” she said, shuffling the case so that she could hold it in one arm. Ajax’s eyes lit up, though more at the promise for a few more moments with her than at the prospect of a gift. Lumine reached for the letter she had set aside earlier, “It’s nothing nearly as grand as this sword, though. I did mean for Jean to post it later today, but well, since you’re here anyway.”
Lumine waved the plain envelope in her hands, yet unaddressed, but still properly sealed. With a cheeky grin, Ajax asked,
“Payment, I presume, for my services, then?” His eyes glinted mischievously, but poor Lumine found it hopelessly endearing.
“Please, Ajax. We pay you plenty already.”
“Ah, but you could always pay me more,” he teased. Lumine rolled her eyes.
“Our coffers are not bottomless, Ajax,” she said, “We can’t sponsor both your collection of weaponry and your proclivity for pastries.”
“But you could sponsor one of those, then?” Lumine scoffed.
“I was under the impression that we already were,” she said. “I always see you with some kind of baked good.”
“Only because I am always looking for the perfect spot to enjoy it in,” Ajax said, “and as luck would have it, whenever I find one, you always seem to be nearby.” Lumine flushed again under his gaze, recounting countless days of Ajax showing up unannounced with yet another pastry in hand, explaining how his mother happened to bake too many, or how the bakery accidentally gave him two, or how his brother didn’t want his, or how his sister was trying a new recipe—there was always some reason to kidnap her for a moment, to sit beside her under the shade of a big tree, the edge of a river, or sometimes the awning of a gazebo, and to share more than just a sweet treat together, as he stole the minutes away from her day like she wasn’t prying them out of the clock to give to him.
“Well, it’s no pay raise,” she huffed, willing her mind to get back on track and to stop daydreaming about a man who was standing right in front of her (she had plenty of time for that later—at least three weeks' worth of time, in fact), “and nothing quite as valuable as that. Just my response to your last letter.” Ajax cocked a brow at her, blue eyes sparkling in the light.
“Oh, Lumine,” he cooed, and she felt a shiver run down her spine, “that’s more valuable than anything I’ve ever owned.” A lie, Lumine thought. Surely.
“Humourous as always, Ajax.” she muttered. “Don’t lose it, then. I shan’t write you another if you do.” A lie, Lumine knew. Absolutely.
“I shall guard it with my very life,” he said, bowing dramatically. Lumine rolled her eyes again, but couldn’t fight down the happy smile on her face.
And then she wasn’t sure what came over in that moment—perhaps it was the fuzzy atmosphere, perhaps it was the still stuttering beat of her heart, perhaps it was the way Ajax was looking at her, like she was the lifeline that kept him tethered to the earth. Whatever it was that compelled her, it compelled her to bring the envelope to her lips, pressing them against the top left corner, leaving behind sticky remnants of lip gloss and—unknowingly—jam, before she held it out for Ajax to take.
Ajax had watched her do it. Watched her with his own two eyes, and yet he still could hardly believe it. His eyes widened and his jaw slackened, and suddenly his mouth felt very dry and his skin felt feverishly warm. He watched as her gaze flickered from his eyes to his mouth and then back to his eyes again, like she couldn’t decide where to look. He stared, blatantly, openly, and (if you asked Jean) rudely as Lumine pressed her mouth to the envelope, studied the way the paper clung to the shine of her lips, and licked his own chapped ones in what he could only hope was not glaringly obvious jealousy and hunger.
“Lumine,” he croaked, please, don’t tempt me. A dryness settled in his throat that had him swallowing harshly. He barely recognised his own hands as they reached out, trembling pathetically, to pluck the waiting letter from her dainty fingers. His focus lasered in on the shiny, tacky residue of Lumine and her pretty, golden eyes and her sweet, lilting voice, and her smooth, plump lips.
Without thinking himself, he brought the paper to his mouth, heated gaze finding Lumine’s wide-eyed one, both bashful and curious and simmering in a familiar way, watching just like he watched her—watching as he, too, pressed a kiss against the ghost of her lips, against the sticky, shiny paper that Ajax thought, in his delirium, might still be warm from her sugary sweet breath.
Ajax loved to watch her, and he especially loved to see her fluster under his stare, pretty patches of pink blooming across her creamy skin, on the tips of her ears, over her cheekbones, disappearing tantalisingly under the collar of her dress, begging Ajax to have dreams about how far the flush might go. He unconsciously ran his tongue along his lips, and although at first it pained him to remove the traces of her on his skin, the sweet taste of sunsettia jam on his tongue, the adorable sight of her flush changing from a peachy pink to a bright red, and the delicious way she said his name,
“Ajax,” so close to a whine—when he knew it was meant to be a scolding—made it worth it in the end.
“You've been a pleasure as usual, Lumine,” he said, and once more he took her hand in his, now covered again in that scratchy leather, and he pressed a fleeting kiss to the back of her hand. Lumine almost squeezed, almost wrapped her fingers around his and pulled—anything to keep him from leaving, but she stilled her instincts and let him brush his lips to her skin once more, wet this time from his tongue. She felt the flame in her stomach licking at her ribs now, as Ajax only continued to throw logs and coal and gunpowder into it.
“Safe travels, Ajax,” is all she managed to stammer out between laboured breaths and rapid beats of her heart, as she wrestled her eyes away from his before the heat could begin to grow unbearable. “I look forward to seeing you again.”
“As do I,” he said, voice low and gravelly and yet somehow still managing to be tender to the point of aching, “I’ll be waiting for you, Lumine. As always.”