Work Text:
“BOO!”
Saint-14 jumped up as his pigeons flew away, startled by the Hunter who had dropped down from the walkways at the top of the Hanger. Instantly recognizing his friend, he spread his arms open wide for a hug (which, as usual, the Hunter dodged).
“Guardian! It is good to see you. But what is your helmet?” Indeed, the Guardian was wearing what looked like a...chicken head? Saint-14 reached out to touch it, and he could tell it was something flimsy, like paper. “I like it!”
The Hunter twirled, showing off his skeleton-patterned armor that glowed with a teal light. “Just getting ready for the Festival of the Lost. It’s only a month away.”
Saint-14 hummed approvingly. “Ikora has spoken of this. The Tower will be decorated and Eva Levante will host once again.” He was looking forward to that - it was always a treat to talk to her. She wanted the best for all of the Guardians, and she was an important link between them and the thousands of non-Guardians of the City.
The Hunter perched himself on one of the stacks of books, demonstrating Saint-14’s theory that Hunters were as a whole unable to sit normally. “And we get candy and chocolate from doing Vanguard activities, and we can trade them for masks and stuff. I got this one from Tess.” He doffed the chicken head, revealing a tattooed Awoken face that was grinning ruefully. “Tell you the truth, I was a little worried we might not have it this year.”
Saint’s tone softened. “Because of the Pyramids.” They were a dark cloud over everything, and with reason. The Vanguard met daily about it and Saint had helped where he could, but there seemed to be little there could be done besides waiting to react. Zavala was playing defensively, and Saint-14 could not fault him for it. Not after they had effortlessly taken out Rasputin within mere days of their victory over the Almighty.
The Hunter nodded and ran his hand through his half-shaved hair. “They’re moving slower than I thought they would, like something’s delaying them. Not that I’m complaining! But I was sure we wouldn’t have the Haunted Forest anymore.”
“I remember the Haunted Forest,” Saint-14 said quietly. “Perhaps you do not know this, but it helped to lead me out. I followed the Light to your entry point, and then I had only to wait until the right time.”
The Hunter’s eyes widened. “I thought it was just because Osiris liked messing with us. I mean, it couldn’t have been deliberate. Everyone thought you were dead.”
Saint-14 spread out his arms, palms up. “Who is to say? All I know is that it helped me, and so I do not mind if all my Guardian friends go into the Infinite Forest to bring some Light to the dark corners.”
“There’s this Knight with a huge axe that chases you in the higher branches,” the Hunter said. “Can’t hurt him. We call him our friend.” He imitated a fireteam chat voice. “Watch out, you’ve got a friend. Come on through the door so our friend can’t see you. You know.”
“We have met.” Really, Osiris pulled the Unyielding Terror in for the Guardians? Saint supposed he did like to challenge them.
“I hate that guy.” The Hunter’s expression sobered. “But this year Zavala ordered the threatened planets to evacuate.” Saint nodded, heart aching for Sloane and and that Asher Mir and Ana. They had each made a foothold for themselves on their territories, and they were each passionate about them in their own ways.
And then there was Mercury. No doubt that was really what the Hunter had come to talk to him about.
“What’s Osiris gonna do?”
Saint-14 sighed and leaned up against the Gray Pigeon’s staircase. “Osiris has not shared his plans with me.”
The Hunter smiled just a little. “I bet he doesn’t know, then. Warlocks always overthink things.” He jumped down and put his ridiculous chicken mask back on. “Hope he makes the right choice.”
“So do I, my friend.” They waved at each other as the Hunter brought up his Ghost (sporting a little black cat shell, how cute) to transmat away.
“So do I,” Saint repeated when he was alone once more.
----
As always, when Saint-14 entered Commander Zavala’s office, his gaze was drawn to the Speaker’s mask enshrined on the left side. The sharp pang of grief was familiar. His Father would have objected strongly to the request he was about to make to Zavala at one time, but then, it had barely taken a year before he’d regretted his words and sent Saint to Mercury to make amends. In doing so, they had both been lost.
Now it was the Speaker who was gone, and perhaps Saint-14 would finally accomplish his last command.
Zavala raised an eyebrow. He looked--exhausted, Saint decided, but his poker face was good enough it barely showed. Saint was both exceptionally perceptive and familiar with his Titan brother, though, so he could see every miniscule droop and crease in Zavala’s otherwise implacable expression. “You want me to reverse the order.”
“This cannot be a surprise to you, Commander.” He used Zavala’s title deliberately, and he knew the other Titan had to understand why: he was appealing in an official capacity, not as a favor to a friend. If he wanted this to be binding, it had to be this way. He pressed on. “It would strengthen your position to have him here.”
Zavala turned away and held his hands behind his back, looking out the window at the City and the Traveler, and Ikora watched them carefully from his desk with her arms crossed. Saint came to stand beside him. It was a view he never tired of.
“And what of the original arguments? The divisiveness? He was exiled for his ‘dangerous ideas’.”
Saint-14 snorted, and he was pleased to hear a lighter echo of it from Ikora. “He has changed, Zavala. We all have. I will not say he will not express his own ideas, or that he does not welcome conflict. He believes it makes us stronger to be challenged. I agree.” His tone softened. “But he is not Commander now. He would be here as our guest, and
Zavala sounded tired now. Perhaps he was comfortable enough with him and Ikora to let it show. “And it was the Speaker who wanted him gone. We all know it. Future War Cult will be easy enough to convince, and Dead Orbit already supports him.” Zavala turned back toward Saint and frowned. “I leave New Monarchy to you. Convince them, and the exile is lifted. But what will Osiris do here?”
“He can stay with me,” Saint and Ikora said in tandem, and they turned to glare at one another.
“He’ll want to continue his research,” Ikora said defensively. “I have workshops and libraries.”
“You may have his days. I am not arguing with that part, but Osiris will stay with me. I do not think you want to see what comes of me sneaking into your house at night to be with him.” Saint inclined his head knowingly at Ikora, who suddenly found herself biting her lip and looking away with a stifled expression of mortification. Even Zavala bit back a smile, and that alone made it worthwhile.
“You are correct; I truly do not, nor did I want that mental image. I’ll give you the right of first refusal.” Ikora still looked slightly pained, but it was a small price to pay to get what he wanted. “I had planned to invite him during the Festival of the Lost to discuss the current situation regardless, but perhaps we could extend the visit to last the entire Festival.”
Saint nodded. “And see if we can stand having him in the City that long or if it will drive us all mad.”
“I would rather have him here driving us all mad than be on Mercury when the Pyramids make their move,” Zavala said grimly. “Controversial though he is, Osiris has shown he will not stop fighting the Darkness whether he has the City’s backing or not. That would be enough of a reason to offer him sanctuary.”
Ikora looked satisfied, and Saint-14 couldn’t mask his surprise. Yes, it was where he’d been leading the conversation, but Saint had expected to do more convincing than this. Momentarily overcome with gratitude, he gripped Zavala’s shoulder in thanks. Zavala gripped his in return, and his smile looked at least a small degree less tired than before.
“We will do our best to convince Osiris he should accept the offer,” Saint promised, and Ikora nodded in agreement. “The rest will be up to him.”
And that was the problem. Notoriously proud, impulsive, narcissistic Osiris, making the choice to give up the identity he’d built for himself and come back to the place that had exiled him?
It was a good thing Saint-14 didn’t give up easily.
----
Text-tightbeam-Vanguard-OXIV-encrypt:19-16-15-15-11-25-arc
XIV: Osiris! Eva Levante is letting me help with the decorations for the Festival of the Lost! You should come and visit. I would like to show them to you.
Osiris: This cypher is terrible. Pick a better string for it next time.
XIV: Osiris, please.
Osiris: Do I get an entire day again, as with the Guardian Games?
XIV: Your work is an integral part of the Festival. Ikora and I have negotiated a longer stay.
Osiris: Hm.
Osiris: Eva has secured your assistance because asking you to help me decorate the Haunted Forest is out of the question.
XIV: I will send you the code for the gourd carving designs so you may demonstrate symmetry between the Forest and the Tower.
Osiris: I find that acceptable. In return I will send red candles. Other colors as well, if I can acquire them in time.
XIV: But I like the purple candles.
Osiris: There’s no shortage of them.
XIV: Will you stay longer or not? I have missed you.
Osiris: You have convinced me.
XIV: I am glad.
----
Osiris took the orange candies and chewed on some more of them. Saint-14 always found that a little sugar helped Osiris when he was in a bad mood, though it was hard to imagine a mood worse than this. Angry Osiris was one thing - frustrating, but expected. This was more disheartened, even morose. He squeezed Osiris’s hand again and thought wistfully of his own quarters, where he could pull the Warlock into a comforting embrace.
Later. For now, words would have to do.
“I asked Tess Everiss to make me a pigeon mask, but she said she would not.”
Osiris huffed. “You already have an iconic helmet. Better she should make an imitation of that. I’ve already seen five or six of Shaxx running around.”
“No, no, there is already an imitation of my helmet. The Titans wear it when they want to use the Starless Night. My friend the Hunter, he has a mask of the Colonel.”
Osiris slipped his gauntlets back on and flexed his fingers. “And now you will tell me who the Colonel is?” He looked mildly perplexed.
“A chicken,” Saint said with great satisfaction in his voice, and the glare Osiris gave him made him certain he’d distracted his friend from the pending evacuation for now. “She has been running around unsupervised for some time, but I have given her a home and a duty to look after the other birds. She is the biggest, save for Louis.”
Osiris crossed his arms. “You gained custodianship of another bird and told me nothing.”
“You must know I am happy to give a home to any bird that needs it, but the Colonel already had a roost and access to feed. I merely promoted her to Lord of the Pigeons.” There. That was the smile he’d been looking for. He gestured to Osiris to take up the perch on the workbench he’d had before so he could keep wrapping the Sparrow. They would discuss more about Mercury once they were in private.
----
Well. Eventually, they would discuss more about Mercury. The moment they stepped into Saint-14’s quarters, he was pressed up against the wall by a very insistent Warlock who was running his hands over places in Saint’s armor that concealed sensitive seams in his Exo frame, a clear prelude to more intimate companionship. He sighed happily and wrapped his arms around Osiris to hold him close.
“Thank you for coming to me, Osiris. It cannot be easy for you.”
“It is easier to come to the Tower when you are here to greet me.” Osiris leaned into the embrace, but the way he clung was a bit more intense than usual. Saint took note of it.
“I am here,” he agreed, because it sounded like Osiris needed to hear it; indeed, the reassurance got a sigh. Saint followed it up with “And you are in a foul mood, Osiris. Will you speak of it with me?”
Osiris was silent for a moment, probably mulling over how Saint had deftly distracted him and changed the subject earlier. “The path is filled with Darkness,” he said eventually, “and I am having difficulty seeing my way clearly.”
Saint-14 stroked the feathery mantle along Osiris’s shoulders as he would to soothe a bird. Osiris claimed it was not deliberate that his chosen symbol and Saint’s fondness for avians overlapped, but Saint had his doubts. “You are upset that the Vanguard withdraws from Mercury.”
“The irony does not escape me. I went there to get away from them. For years, we had no traffic with one another, and it was to my liking. Yet now they withdraw, and it seems a personal affront.” His face was half-buried in Saint’s neck now, but Osiris must have still heard the hiss of displeasure because he pulled back and met Saint’s eyes. “It is a conceit only. I am aware.”
“It is not always about Osiris,” Saint said, and he caught a twinkle in Osiris’s eyes. “I know, this is a difficult thought to have. But surely you spoke with Ikora, and she told you?”
“She told me a great deal, and I believe she only waited this long so she would have stronger support for her position.” His tone wavered ever so slightly. “It is a strong position.”
“It is much to consider,” Saint agreed. “Must we consider it in my entryway?”
Osiris barked laughter. “I suppose it is not necessary.” He clinked the end of his bird-beak helmet against Saint’s in apology and headed deeper into Saint’s small but comfortable quarters.
“Do you want to talk about it now?” Saint-14 asked quietly, certain Osiris would hear him. “Or would you prefer to be distracted for a little longer?”
“A difficult choice,” Osiris said, and it was not without sincerity. “You have a rare and precious gift for it, Saint. Do you know how much it means to me, that you can make all of existence fade away when I am with you? My cares, my worries, all the forces of Darkness--they are as nothing when I can bask in your Light.”
Saint-14 carefully took off his helmet and set it on its usual spot. His eyes gleamed brightly, and he knew that if his body reacted in the same way a human’s did, he’d be choked up with emotion or having a hard time breathing. That was most possibly the most romantic thing he had ever heard anyone say. “May I kiss you for that?” he asked quietly, knowing there was a tremble in his voice. It was important to ask - they’d been in a relationship for months now, but both of them had been alone for so long that they had agreed early on to state their intent clearly before beginning anything.
Besides, Osiris was anxious even by his own standards. Maybe he didn’t want physical comfort right now.
Osiris took off his helmet, revealing a sad and tired face with conflicting expressions of grief and distress. “Please do,” he said, and Saint closed the distance between them. He took Osiris in his arms once again and pressed their mouths together. He wrapped his hand, still gauntleted but as gentle in his movements as with his birds, around the back of Osiris’s head and cradled it. He murmured sounds of approval and encouragement, and gradually he felt Osiris begin to relax.
Not enough, though. Saint-14 smiled ruefully once the kiss was over and nuzzled up against Osiris’s neck. “Ah, you will be no good to me until you have vented your concerns. Let us talk, and then I will take care of you.”
Osiris gave Saint a squeeze and then let him go. His sigh echoed the complex expression on his face: relief, regret, and a wistful longing that he tended to wear in Saint’s presence any time they weren’t actively engaged in physical pleasures. That little bit of longing always pierced Saint right in the heart and reassured him that he was, above all else, desired. “I will make tea. I’ve no doubt it will be thirsty work.”
“I will assume you have not eaten anything recently, aside from candy,” Saint said, grinning at Osiris’s guilty flinch. He put together a plate of finger foods Osiris could eat while explaining himself and pacing and set it down on the low table in his living room. Osiris fussed with the tea for a moment--Saint restocked it between his visits, so it was only missing a few servings--and sat down. He looked smaller than usual. Was it because he was more tired?
“Let us begin with what is certain,” Osiris said. “As you know, it is what may be that concerns me most, yet it cannot be discussed without clearly stating what it is.”
Saint nodded. “The pyramids that hang over Mercury. The Vanguard does not want to test their power. They do not have the strength to hold everywhere, not stretched thin as they are. So they will withdraw, and yet you feel a responsibility to Mercury because you know it so well.”
“Because I know what they cannot be allowed to access. If we permit them inside the Forest, we are lost.”
Saint nodded to cut him off; he agreed, and Osiris didn’t have to explain why, and that was a large part of what made him a good audience. But the key part, the important part here, was that Osiris had said we and not I. “And when you look at this problem, the first solution you see is to--to seal it away from the inside, as you have done before.” His voice trembled; he couldn’t help it. “You would guard it fiercely, as a sentinel, and be lost to us once more. You would go where I cannot follow.”
Because it truly was a matter of cannot and not will not, in the end. Saint-14 could no longer return to the Infinite Forest and keep his sanity. It would break, and so he could not return, not even for Osiris. It was a terrible thought, if not a new one, and Saint realized he’d been unconsciously bracing himself to hear it for weeks now.
Osiris growled, and Saint found himself being snapped out of that depressive spiral by a sudden surge in Osiris’s Light. He focused on Osiris again, realizing he’d missed something the other man had said.
“I did not fight the Cabal over countless timelines and send hundreds of Guardians through the Sundial, risking existence itself, to walk away from you now that we are together. I will not.” Osiris gestured angrily, and Saint’s gaze was transfixed. “You are not wrong that it is the first solution that presents itself; however, I say now it is the last resort, and even if I must go myself I will find a way to rejoin you. There is more than one egress. You know this.”
“I do know this,” he agreed slowly. “You would have me go to Nessus, perhaps, and help the Failsafe program open a door for you?”
“Or Venus,” Osiris said, nodding. “The Vault of Glass is better documented, and you are no Kabr to misstep into a Vex trap.”
Saint exhaled loudly. “Neither is good, but--they would be better than losing you again.” He took a drink of the hot tea to try to regain some composure, and Osiris frowned. Before Saint could do much to react to that, Osiris was standing in front of him and cupping Saint’s face in his hands. His touch was as gentle as Saint with his birds, but not because Osiris thought he was fragile.
“I understand why you would believe I would seal myself off in the Forest,” Osiris said quietly. “Were it a few years ago, you would have been correct in the assumption.” He traced one of the metallic planes in Saint’s face lightly with his thumb and Saint felt his heart fill at the gesture. “But there is another way. I dare not be more specific, lest it fail to come to pass.” Saint huffed, because that was Osiris through and through. It didn’t have much strength behind it, though, because his gaze was caught by Osiris’s dark eyes on his. The intensity in his eyes was burning away at Saint’s despair, enough that he really did start to take in Osiris’s words. “It is a choice that must be made freely, and not by me,” Osiris continued.
“There is someone else willing to lock themselves in,” Saint said, realization dawning. “Someone who thinks they know what a sacrifice it would be, and will do it anyway.” He pulled Osiris’s head down so they could rest forehead to forehead, and he shut off his optics for a moment to savor the closeness.
“Someone who would spare me the pain of losing you again.” That was followed by a kiss, and before he knew it Saint was being straddled by Osiris on his lap. If it was meant as a distraction technique, it was working admirably; he wondered if Osiris had any idea how erotic it was, despite the full armor they were still both wearing.
“Osiris,” Saint said slowly, savoring the sound of his name, “I know how much this means to you. You are saying that you would give up the Infinite Forest.” To be with me, he didn’t say aloud but was confident they could both hear hanging in the air between them anyway.
Osiris smiled wryly. “Nothing is forever, Saint. We both know that to be true. If being free to fight the Darkness on a new front means giving up a place I have made my home, it is a choice I have made before with the same outcome.”
“A different outcome,” Saint argued, keeping his voice gentle. “This time, you do not run from me, and I may offer you my home instead.” He felt Osiris freeze, predictably, and Saint stroked his back with barely enough force to feel under those Warlock robes. “Do not argue. I have a document from the Consensus. You may stay as long as you do not enter politics.”
It was gratifying to see Osiris speechless. Saint took the opportunity to continue.
“I know, you have a dozen hiding holes all over the system. You are a restless bird who flies to all of them now and then. But the Vanguard could use your help, and I--I would have you stay, when you can.” His voice broke, and he didn’t make the effort to disguise it. “Perhaps you cannot. Perhaps you will have to go seal yourself away on Mercury after all, and I will find you on Venus a year from now or a hundred years from now. But I will shine more brightly if my heart is whole, and for that, I need Osiris with me.”
Osiris whispered something softly, an endearment in his old language, and flicked his thumb along the edge of Saint’s eye as if to wipe away a nonexistent tear. “You have truly done this for me.” It wasn’t a question, but Saint nodded regardless. Osiris bit his lip, and Saint thought--hoped--he was biting back a smile. “And if I am not the Exiled Warlock and I am not the Warden of the Infinite Forest, what does that leave me to be?”
“Mine,” Saint said promptly. Ah, there was that smile. “But as you say: it is a choice that you must make freely, or it means nothing.” He wouldn’t pressure Osiris into staying if it would make him miserable. That would defeat the purpose. But if he could offer sanctuary to him in his travels, make a place of calm and peace that Osiris could retreat to freely, without having to worry about asking the Vanguard for permission or sneaking in furtively--that would be worth a great deal to both of them.
Osiris spoke abruptly, gaze sliding away from Saint’s. “Do not presume I have not already made the choice. I knew the price of the Sundial when I activated it.”
Saint blinked. “The Sundial?” What did that have to do with anything?
“To gain something, I would necessarily lose something of equal value. I chose to seek for you, knowing the price would in time be the Forest.”
“How?” Saint demanded, guiding Osiris’s chin back so they were looking at one another again.
“The same way I know most of what will happen,” Osiris said snappishly, and arranged himself into a proper sitting position while still somehow on Saint’s lap. “It was one possibility among many; of those, it seemed the most likely.” He began to recite:
“A thousand paths that shift and wind,
The forest grows and blooms, then falls;
Revived, the Paradox will shine,
And Time stand lonesome in its halls.”
It was a verse from one of the forbidden books that Saint had seen before. He mulled over it, trying to apply it to the present. He was the Paradox, obviously, but he would have thought Osiris was Time, then, and would be lonely? No, when Osiris referred to himself it was always as the watcher or the flame, or sometimes the sun if he was being particularly pretentious. But then, to his surprise, Osiris continued the recitation with a verse Saint hadn’t heard before.
“The sands are hot, the Beacon lit,
From dawn to day to eventide.
The falcon volant comes to sit
At steadfast pigeon’s grateful side.”
That--that didn’t need any explanation at all. Saint stared dumbly at Osiris. “It was impossible to sufficiently obscure that vese,” Osiris growled, but he was smiling. “I never published it.”
“You did not,” Saint-14 agreed faintly. “I would have remembered it.”
“I had discarded it as a false branch when I failed to find you,” Osiris said quietly. “My faith had failed me once again. Yours was stronger.”
“I will not lose faith in you, graceful falcon. I will remind you of this, when I must.”
Osiris’s expression, already soft, dissolved into a smile free, for once, of pain. “If you could help remind me for one evening that abandoning the home I made does not mean I am without a roost, I would count it a great favor.”
There were occasionally times when Saint regretted not being able to roll his eyes, so instead he just shifted a bit so his hand was supporting the small of Osiris’s back and he could properly display a hungry expression. “Oh, Saint-14,” he said in a mocking tone, “please will you do the thing you already want to do?” He silenced Osiris’s sputtering complaint with another kiss. “Come to my bed,” he said once that was done. “I will do my best.”
His best was, as it happened, good enough.