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always one foot on the ground
Nyx met Cor when he was fifteen, all knobby knees and poor life choices. The King himself saved his life, yes, but it was Cor that Nyx remembered best out of the whole mess. Face stern and eyes bright, roaring as he threw himself into battle and left a wasteland in his wake. And then he’d been showered in coeurl’s guts when his gallant attack backfired awkwardly. Nyx's laughter had echoed across the dread silence all about, as Cor swore under his breath. He realized he was the only one laughing, but he couldn’t for the life of him stop. The King had laughed, then, and that was probably the only reason Nyx hadn’t been killed on the spot.
“Oh good, you’re alive,” Libertus told him, as he was finally allowed to leave the King’s presence.
“Don’t sound so heartbroken about it,” Nyx laughed, punching his shoulder for effect.
“We thought the Immortal was going to kill you,” Libertus said, voice low and expression sour. “He kept glaring at you,” he added, with a glare of his own, “and you kept laughing at him.”
“At what he said,” Nyx pointed out, feeling like he had to defend his honor, “he’s the funniest thing in the world.”
Libertus gave him a flat stare.
“You’re insane,” he declared, with the resignation due for a well-known truth.
Nyx grinned, and at the time, that was that.
Nyx didn’t see Cor again for ten long years, during which Galahd had struggled, survived, and then fell. He and Libertus left behind the scorched ghosts of their lives, and set off for the Crown City with only the clothes on their back for company. Joining the Kingsglaive wasn’t really a choice as much as the natural step in a deadrun towards revenge. He was surprised by how well he took to it, the pulse of power under his skin, and Nyx would always remember the day he knelt before the King and he felt the spark connecting them forever.
“I’ve met you before,” the King told him, after the ceremony was done and he asked Nyx to stay behind, much to Libertus’ panicked look. “Haven’t I?”
Nyx bowed, deep and respectful, still basking in the warmth of power surging under his skin.
“Your Majesty honors me by remembering me,” he said, smiling. “It’s been many years now.”
“Galahd,” the King mused, eyes bright for a moment, before his expression sobered. “A great loss for all Lucis.”
“We’ll get it back, Your Majesty,” Nyx replied, matter-of-fact. “Don’t worry about it.”
The man standing behind the King, at his right, snorted loudly at that, and it made Nyx grin sheepishly in return.
“Being King,” the King said, vaguely amused nonetheless, “is all about worrying, Nyx Ulric.”
“I’ll try not to give you any extra worries, then,” Nyx said, shrugging quietly.
The King smiled, pleased.
“You do that. Dismissed.”
Nyx bowed and left the room, and then immediately slammed face first into Cor as he turned a corner.
“Shit,” Cor hissed, fumbling to keep the papers in his hands from scattering everywhere.
“Oh,” Nyx replied, having reached out to hold them on reflex.
He laughed at the look on Cor’s face. More so when it darkened a little, brows dipping into a vaguely offended frown and he pulled his papers off Nyx’s hands. It occurred to Nyx that not a lot of people would feel comfortable laughing in the face of Cor the Immortal. Even if he was pretty funny.
“Sorry about that,” Nyx offered placatingly, hands raised in defeat.
“Nevermind,” Cor murmured quietly, shrugging as he shuffled his papers back in place. “Kingsglaive, isn’t it.”
Nyx nodded, sliding his hands into his pockets and not stepping back, even though he probably should. But then, he reckoned, if it really bothered Cor, he could move.
“It’s nice to see you again, Marshal,” Nyx added, chuckling as Cor’s expression turned long-suffering.
“Ah, the young Galahdian boy,” Cor said, eyes narrowed, though Nyx was halfway convinced that was just what his face looked like.
“Not so young anymore, though I seemed to have left an impression,” Nyx replied, shrugging. “Sir.”
Cor sighed.
“You did.” He motioned for the corridor with his head. “Back to work, soldier.”
Nyx stepped aside, not quite bowing. He knew his eyes were laughing, and he knew Cor saw, because the corner of that stern mouth twitched, almost like the ghost of an impression of the idea of a vague smile.
“Aye, aye, sir,” Nyx replied, and watched Cor walk briskly towards the throne room, before he shrugged and went off to find his own squad.
Libertus was bound to be freaking out, after all.
“You have a keen talent to run into me,” Cor said dryly, cup of coffee safely held above his head and Nyx’s face pressed against his.
“I’m stalking you, clearly,” Nyx replied, laughing easily as he stepped back. “Sir.”
“At ease,” Cor sighed, shaking his head. “And please refrain.”
“From stalking you or running into you, literally?” Nyx asked and dug his hands into the back pockets of his pants as Cor stepped back as well.
“Ideally both,” Cor deadpanned, frowning when Nyx laughed. “Ulric, wasn’t it?”
“My friends call me Nyx,” Nyx added, nodding. “And the commander calls me Idiot, when he’s in a mood.” Cor hummed in the back of his throat. “Pleasure to make your acquaintance, sir.”
“Likewise,” Cor murmured, frowning at Nyx’s easy smile. He seemed to realize they were still standing in the middle of the street, just outside the cafe, because he cleared his throat sharply and shook his head. “Good day, excuse me.”
Nyx shrugged as he moved aside and waved him off.
“See you around, Marshal.”
“To be fair,” Nyx laughed, drying himself off with a napkin, “you ran into me this time.”
Cor gave him a long-suffering look, and offered another napkin to help clean up the spilled beer now decorating the front of Nyx’s shirt. Cor had somehow managed to escape unscathed from their collision, though he had glared on reflex when he realized just who he’d bounced off, in the cramped little bar.
“Perhaps,” Cor said eventually, with another of those smiles three times removed hanging off his lips. “I’ll pay for that,” he added, nodding to Nyx’s sad, near empty glass.
Nyx grinned, heard Libertus shrieking in the back of his head, and shrugged.
“Do me one better, and buy yourself one as well,” he said, grin widening as Cor’s brow furrowed. “And I’ll call it even.”
He wondered if he’d pushed too hard - this was, after all, the Immortal - but Cor sighed.
“I’m afraid I’m not much company,” Cor said, even as he turned to eye the bartender frantically trying to keep on top of the screaming mob all around them.
“Dunno, sir,” Nyx replied, leaning to rest his weight on the bar with a grin. “I think you’re pretty funny.”
Cor snorted, sharp and acid.
“Yes,” he deadpanned, looking over the corner of his eye at Nyx, “you’ve made that abundantly clear.”
Nyx laughed, unrepentant, because there was no arguing the truth of that.
“You look like regurgitated Anak shit,” Cor observed, watching Nyx gingerly crawl out of his uniform.
Nyx paused in the middle of pulling his shirt gently over his head, and barked a laugh that trailed off into a groan as his bruised ribs protested the rough treatment. He walked over to where Cor had taken command of the small armchair, eyebrows arched. His entire torso was a palette of purple and angry red, and he hissed when Cor reached a hand to brush against his side.
“But at least I’m hot shit, right?” Nyx said, grinning easily even as Cor frowned thoughtfully and then hooked a finger into a belt hoop and pulled him down.
Nyx went, sliding into place easily.
“You’ll do,” Cor said dryly, resigned, even as Nyx buried his laughter into the corner of his mouth. “I suppose.”
“Careful, Marshal,” Nyx teased, letting his arms fall around his shoulders, eyes shrewd. “That almost sounded like an emotion.”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” Cor snorted, eyes half-lidded and expression stern, “I had an emotion on Tuesday.”
“Filled up the quota for the week while I was gone, I see,” Nyx chuckled, arching slowly into the fingers digging into his back. “That’s rude.”
Cor clicked his tongue in the back of his throat, disapproving, but he kissed back, when Nyx slid their mouths together. He still looked personally offended about it, though, and it was still the funniest thing Nyx had ever seen.
“You could have warned me,” Nyx muttered, sullen in a way that suited Cor a lot better than him.
Cor hummed, glancing up from the stir fry to find Nyx thrown dramatically as long as he was, on his couch.
“Maybe,” he mused, shrugging, and went back to fixing dinner.
“You’re an asshole, sir,” Nyx decided, rolling so he could watch Cor’s back and the forest of scars on it. “And your friends are jerks.”
“The King is my friend,” Cor pointed out tonelessly, flipping the pan with the ease of years of practice.
“The King is a jerk too,” Nyx snorted, resting his head on his fist, his other arm laid along his side. “He just stood there and let… let Lord Amicitia talk.”
Cor shrugged.
“Clarus is never going to stop thinking I’m fourteen,” he admitted, and Nyx was sure there was another of those tiny, imperceptible, not-really-but-almost smiles on his lips. “He means well.”
Nyx hummed thoughtfully.
“Yeah.”
Still, he supposed it could have gone worse. Nyx got the impression that the King and his Shield were more surprised, than disapproving. The thought made Nyx frown. He didn’t think it was surprising, that Cor had someone like him. Sure, he was serious and fierce and his reputation was well-earned. But he was fun, too. Nyx found it hard to believe he was the first person to ever notice it, though he supposed it worked in his favor, too. He rolled back onto his feet and padded over to drape himself on Cor’s back, just because he felt like it. Cor didn’t even flinch, just shifted his weight to better carry Nyx’s.
“Thanks,” Nyx said, muttering the word against his neck.
Cor grunted.
“You’re insane,” Libertus moaned miserably, face buried in his hands. “At least cover them up!” He hissed, glaring between his fingers at the impressive, dark bruises along Nyx’s throat.
Cor chose precisely that moment to stalk down the corridor and across the Citadel’s atrium, steps brisk and back straight like a board. He caught sight of Nyx and Libertus loitering about the front steps and paused only briefly enough to frown at them. Libertus spluttered when Nyx raised his cup of coffee in a toast, and laughed when Cor glared and switched courses mid step, heading in their direction.
“Good morning, Marshal,” Nyx said easily, eyes dancing as Cor’s gaze swept over him. He nodded over at Libertus, who seemed to have frozen in place and was very busy trying his best to spontaneously disappear into the void. “Have you met my friend, Libertus? He’s a glaive, as well.”
Cor transferred his piercing gaze from Nyx to Libertus, who choked on a sound like a gerbil dying, and shrunk as much as he could under the scrutiny.
“Charmed,” Cor deadpanned, and went back to glare at Nyx with an intensity that made Libertus wonder if his friend was going to suddenly burst into flames. “If you’ve got nothing better to do than laze around,” Cor said, frowning, “I have a job for you.”
Libertus choked, when Nyx wiggled his eyebrows at Cor Leonis, out in the open in the middle of the day.
“The fun kind?” Nyx asked, blatantly flirting.
“No,” Cor said flatly, then frowned a sliver deeper. “Well. Perhaps. You’re stupid enough to enjoy it.”
Nyx laughed, an open, easy laughter that Libertus thought had no business existing within ten miles of Cor. Cor waited patiently for the outburst to die out. He stared down at Nyx, jaw set.
“The Prince’s young adviser has requested an instructor,” he said, voice surgically removed of all emotion, “he’s chosen to specialize in daggers, I believe.”
“Sweet,” Nyx said, smile easy. “When do we start?”
“Training hall C,” Cor said, “today at four.”
Nyx gave two thumbs up.
“Gotcha,” he nodded. “But you’re buying me dinner for it.”
Libertus spluttered as one of Cor’s eyebrows arched slowly, and Nyx continued to not wilt under the weight of that glare. In fact, Nyx laughed.
“I don’t do favors for free,” Nyx said, and then leered. Libertus actually rubbed his eyes in disbelief. Because that sure as hell was Cor The Immortal Leonis that Nyx was leering at. “Not even for you.”
Cor rolled his eyes.
“Just be there on time,” he muttered, and then gave poor Libertus the fright of his life by looking at him in the eye and nodding sharply. “Libertus. Good day.”
And then he was gone, just like that.
“You’re insane,” Libertus hissed as they watched Cor stalk away. “Certifiable.”
Nyx shrugged.
“Smitten, really,” he admitted, shrugging when Libertus gaped. “If you want to get technical about it. He’s cute.”
Libertus groaned.
Cor woke up the moment the bed dipped under Nyx’s weight. Which said a lot as far as Nyx was concerned, considering he hadn’t woken up the moment he opened the front door. It said something, something sweet and tender and small that Cor would never say out loud because he might legitimately shrivel up and die from the effort of even contemplating it. But Nyx heard and understood anyway, and it made him smile as he slid a hand into his hair, settling with his back against the headboard.
“Go back to sleep,” he muttered quietly, leaning in to press the words against the shell of Cor’s ear. “You’ve got two hours more.”
Cor was always in a piss poor mood, whenever he had to work night shifts. Not that anyone could really tell, except Nyx. Nyx knew he hated the way the shift in schedule fucked up his entire sense of timing. But Cor lived, much like Nyx, at the King’s disposal, and it would be a cold day in hell before Cor refused to do anything the King required of him. Nyx smiled as he rolled around, resting his face against Nyx’s thigh as Nyx settled the box on his lap and slowly pried it open, one hand absently playing with the tips of hair fanning the back of Cor’s neck.
“You’ll leave crumbs all over the fucking bed,” Cor growled under his breath, eyes open only a sliver, still slightly glazed from sleep.
“I earned these cupcakes,” Nyx murmured, flashing him a grin. “With my face. You can deal with a few crumbs.”
Cor muttered something decidedly impolite. By the time Nyx passed him along a chunk of cupcake to nibble on - because Cor nibbled on things, when he ate, all careful and dainty and shit, and it made Nyx wheeze and want to kiss him - Cor was mostly fully alert.
“You’re in a good mood,” Cor pointed out, frowning.
Nyx shrugged.
“I know something you don’t,” Nyx explained, shrugging as the glare intensified. “I mean, I know a ton of things you don’t, but this one. This one’s good.”
Cor gave him a squinty, suspicious look that didn’t leave even after Nyx bowed down to kiss him.
“You’ll know when you know,” he declared, smug.
Ah, he thought, as Cor leaned in and took a bite of the cupcake he’d been eating, sullen. Young love.
Cor stalked into the room like a force of nature, eyes stormy and mouth set in a thin, unamused line. Drautos stopped mid briefing, as the Kingsglaives shifted about nervously before him.
“Ah,” he began, offering an easy smile, “Marshal-”
Cor stalked past him, zeroed in on Nyx, and slammed his fist into his face in one fluid motion.
Nyx went down like a sack of bricks.
Somewhere in the background, Nyx heard Libertus’ whimper echo in the cavernous silence of the room.
“Er,” Drautos began, after a moment, as Cor huffed and shook his hand loose. “May I ask what merited that?”
Cor transferred his glare to him, sharp and vicious enough to make Drautos stand up straighter.
“He knows why,” Cor hissed, glowering when Nyx choked on a snort. “Excuse me.”
Cor left the room as briskly as he’d entered it, entire body vibrating with repressed wrath. Nyx gave up trying to hold back his laughter, which only intensified when Drautos fixed him with a pointed look.
“Eh,” Nyx said sheepishly, raising his hands in defeat, “it was worth it.”
He did, nonetheless, buy a bottle Cor’s favorite brandy as a peacemaking gift. Which Cor threatened to smash into his head, when he told him exactly how he’d been forced to spend his afternoon, after the truth about Ignis and Gladiolus had come out. Nyx smothered his laughter into his mouth, until he sagged back, kissing him with the same furious fervor he’d punched him.
Still, worth it.
“It’ll be fine.”
It wouldn’t and they both knew it, but Nyx felt it was his job to say it. He heard Cor breathe slowly across the line. He was upset about being reassigned away from the King, with Nilfs in the streets and threat hanging in the air. Nyx didn’t blame him, just like Cor hadn’t blamed him for being short and irritable about Crowe’s death and the impending peace treaty.
It was all going to shit around their ears, but there was nothing they could do about it.
“Don’t do anything stupid,” Cor replied, after a moment.
“I’ll try,” Nyx promised. “I won’t do anything you wouldn’t.”
Cor rasped a breath, awkward and tense.
“That is not reassuring.”
Nyx shrugged, even though he couldn’t see it.
“I know,” he admitted, looking down at Crowe’s watch with a heavy heart. He swallowed hard. “I love you.”
The line was quiet, so quiet he wondered if Cor had hung up.
“Nyx,” Cor said. “Don’t die.”
Nyx laughed, as Cor hung up before he could reply. He didn’t feel like it, not really, but what else was he supposed to do?