Work Text:
The night couldn’t have been more terrifying. Insomnia was in Ruins and the nearing dawn threatened to reveal every last detail the darkness has left unseen, confirming the cruel reality. Lucis had fallen at the hands of the Empire.
Cor watched as the last refugees left the city. His work here was done. He didn’t allow himself to relax though, not after all that has happened. And there was yet so much to be done. So many people lost their lives within a few hours, brave soldiers and civilians alike. Their King was among them, too. He must have known what was coming Cor realized, catching a glimpse of Lady Lunafreya leaving. At least the Princess was alive then.
When he heard a voice calling after her he turned his head to see Libertus standing not too far away. And where Libertus was, there would be… Just that Nyx wasn’t with his friend nor anywhere else to be seen.
The Marshal frowned, darting towards the Glaive in a sudden rush of fear. Yes, he had noticed the younger man, had been thinking about him for quite a while now. He would even go as far as to admit that he admired him. Nyx often reminded him of himself when he was younger. Thickheaded, sturdy and reckless to the point one could almost deem him arrogant. But he wasn’t known as the ‘hero’ for nothing.
“Where’s Nyx?”
The Marshal demanded to know as he finally reached Libertus.
“Still in there, fighting.”
Libertus replied, and Cor didn’t waste the time to think twice. He just ran towards the gate and into the now ruined city. The fighting has already stopped. Insomnia still burned and the silence surrounding him felt nearly overwhelming. That could only mean…
But the Marshal resolutely shook his head, trying to chase those thoughts away. This was not the time to panic, not as long as there was still hope. Forcing himself to calm down Cor scanned the environment for any sign of Nyx as he jumped over piles of rubble in his way. He didn’t even know which direction to turn to, he just ran, his heart beating fast.
Only shortly before the first light of dawn Cor could make out a figure in his line of sight, half sitting with his gaze settled upon the horizon. Nyx! He crossed the distance between them within a heartbeat, practically falling to his knees in front of the Glaive.
“You’re alive.”
The Marshal exclaimed in relief, carefully examining the younger man for any obvious injuries.
Nyx blinked a few times, staring at Cor in pure disbelief. Of all things he could have imagined to be the last he would ever see, he didn’t expect it to be 'the immortal' himself. There were worse sights to behold though, so he wouldn't complain. In fact, he couldn’t wish for better company. How long had it been since he first laid his eyes on the Marshal? He couldn’t even recall the exact moment anymore, but something about the older man had always kept him thinking. It took him quite a while to realize that he had fallen for him, but he never found the right moment to make his move.
“Hardly.”
He said, laughing softly despite his heavy thoughts.
“And not much longer anyway.”
The Glaive added, trying to shrug it off as if it were nothing. Cor shook his head.
“We’ll get you out of here. You’ll be fine.”
He promised, smiling reassuringly. Nyx returned the smile genuinely.
“It’s too late already.”
He said quietly, seeming at peace with the knowledge. Cor wanted to protest, wanted to tell him to shut up and that they’re going to make it, but before he could even attempt to reply Nyx continued. He wouldn’t get another chance. Not in this life.
“There’s something I’ve been wanting to do for some time now.”
He admitted, a warm expression spreading throughout his face that even mirrored in his eyes.
“Hm?”
The Marshal managed to hum, giving Nyx a questioning look.
Nyx kept silent. He had no time to be wasted anyway. Instead of an answer he reached out, placing a hand in the back of Cor’s neck to pull the other man closer. Without hesitation he brought their lips together for a first and final kiss.
The Marshal couldn’t hide his surprise but he adapted quickly, returning the kiss. Then he deepened it instantly until it became almost desperate.
When they finally broke apart, eyes locked with each other and their breaths coming in short gasps a sad expression crept into Nyx’s gaze, although the smile lingered on his lips.
“Totally worth it.”
He stated. The Marshal snorted and couldn’t help but to grin faintly.
“You should smile more often, you know? It suits you.”
Cor didn’t answer. Instead, he suddenly pulled the Glaive to his chest, carefully wrapping his arms around the younger. Nyx gave in, leaning against Cor’s warm body as his head came to rest on the Marshal’s shoulder.
“Promise me something? Make it out of this mess alive, will you?”
He muttered wearily, clinging to the older man as much as he still could at this point. Cor only nodded. He didn’t dare to speak, fearing his voice might crack as soon as he did.
“I love you.”
Nyx confessed his voice hardly more than a whisper, his eyes slowly closing. Not the worst way to go, indeed. There was a brief silence in which Cor took a deep and shaky breath, lowering his gaze to stare at the Glaive in his arms.
“I love you too.”
He whispered then, pressing his face into Nyx’s soft hair, one hand resting at the nape of the other’s neck. It wasn’t long before he could feel the younger’s body relax against his own, as the Glaive drew his last breath.
Squeezing his eyes shut Cor clearly felt the tears that threatened to run down his cheeks. He didn’t fight them. He couldn’t. Not any longer. Yet another loss. Another brave soul taken away by this pointless war. Taken away from him. All the pain, he couldn’t stand it any longer. And yet, he had to, had to move on.
Before he finally rose he laid Nyx’s lifeless body down carefully, folding the Glaive’s hands over his chest. Tenderly he ran a hand through the younger’s hair, then along the side of his face, casting a last glance at his peaceful features.
“Rest in peace, hero.”
He whispered before turning to leave.
“Because that’s what you are.”
He would keep his promise in the end, but he would never forget the man who drew it from him.