Archive of Our Own ^beta

The mission had been fucked from the get-go, really. Cor should’ve known. He should’ve known, as soon as Titus said his glaives posted out in Duscae had reported a snafu. He should’ve known then that it would evolve into a situation fubar that was wrapped up in a dumpster on fire. 

And yet here he was. 

He flinched and threw himself back behind a boulder as a grenade went off mere inches from his hiding place. Debris rained down around him, his ears ringing in the aftermath of the blast. It took him a solid minute to realise that the screaming he could hear was coming from his comm unit, not some poor soldier stuck further out in the field somewhere.

“Fall back! Fall back right now!” 

It was Titus, doing the screaming. Cor shook his head sharply, trying to clear some of the fuzziness from his mind, but to no avail. They’d been fighting for hours now, no matter how hard they hit, there was another wave of MTs ready to hack them down. Cor hadn’t been out on the front-lines in years, and he was mildly pissed at himself to realise that he was shocked by how outgunned and outnumbered they were. 

After all, both of his boyfriends were out here regularly. He spent a great deal of his time reading their mission reports, for astrals’ sakes. He shouldn’t have been surprised by this! And yet, it seemed that he - just like every other lord who never ventured out from behind the wall - had become complacent about the state of the war. He cursed under his breath, and swore to himself that he was not letting Clarus refuse any more of his proposals to help out on the front-lines more often. 

Two MTs came into focus not far from him, marching forwards with weapons raised, even though they were still a good few hundred metres away from the actual front-line of fighters. Cor had somehow managed to get himself deep behind enemy lines, and now he was isolated there, no one to watch his back while he tried to fight his way back to the massively reduced Lucian territory.

With a small groan, he forced himself back to his feet, stumbling back against the boulder he’d been sheltering behind as another explosion went off nearby. He needed to get out of here yesterday. He pushed forwards, distractedly reaching up to his com, and as he staggered forward amidst explosions and fire from MTs alike, he kept his eyes firmly on the horizon, and tried to forewarn the glaives of where the enemy was gathering in greatest numbers. He called out whenever he saw enemies about to open fire, or if he saw airships hovering above them, threatening reinforcements or worse, daemons. There was no way he could even try and properly fight his way out. All he could do was keep moving forwards and hope he wasn’t gunned down. 

A stray bullet clipped his side, and he hissed, gingerly pressing a hand over the wound and trying not to grimace as it turned tacky with blood. Each breath caused pain to spread like fire through his side, and with the way each step jolted the wound too, it wasn’t long before his pace slowed, which was of course, when he got caught in the blast zone of a self-destructing MT, and was flung to the ground in a shower of mud and rocks. 

“Cor!” Titus’ garbled, distant voice called out. He tried to reach for his com, to answer, but the world was spinning lazily and his body did not want to respond to him. All he managed to do was make his arm twitch. “Cor! No, hang on! I’m on my way, just hang on!” 

Cor tried to respond again, managed a groan and to lift his head. But even that slight motion had his ears ringing, and his vision greying dangerously. The last thing he was aware of was Titus screaming frantically in his ear and a lone figure on the horizon, running towards him, and then the darkness overtook him and pulled him under.

* * *

He woke up slowly, groaning and idly wondering why the hell he was so cold and stiff, before his vague memories of the mission and the fighting came trickling back into his consciousness.

“Shh, easy. Don’t try and sit up, okay?” 

Cor forced his eyes open, bracing for the painfully bright lights of a hospital room, only to be greeted by darkness. That couldn’t be right. Groaning again, Cor tried to lift his head, only to feel a hand push gently against his forehead. “Ti?” 

“I’ve got you.” Titus whispered from somewhere above him. Slowly, the blurred shadows began to take vague shapes, leaving him with the impression of the outline of his boyfriend looking over him.

“Nyx?” He croaked out, then winced as a hoarse cough sent spikes of pain running through his side. 

“What? No,” Titus answered, stroking his thumb across Cor’s cheekbone. “Nyx is at home, remember?”

Cor stifled another groan, something beneath him shifting and jolting his side. 

Titus pressed a soft kiss to his brow. “Sorry.” 

It was only then that Cor realised that he was half-propped against Titus, one of his arms supporting his shoulders, while Cor’s head rested against his chest. Letting out a little sigh, Cor turned further into his chest and let his eyes slip shut. 

Astrals, he was cold.

 “So, where are we? I remember the fight.” 

Titus sighed into his hair, and shuffled his weight some more, careful not to jostle Cor too badly.  “So you remember how you were completely stupid and got shot?” 

He huffed a soft laugh. “In my defense, I was completely cut off from support. I had no other option but to dash back and pray.” 

“Well, clearly you didn’t pray hard enough.” 

“Or the gods just hate me.” Cor retorted, although it came out too mumbled to really be counted as a retort. Titus pressed another soft kiss against his brow.

“I can sympathise with them.” He whispered, breath ghosting over Cor’s skin. 

“Rude.” Cor grinned, no real heat behind his words. Besides, Titus had kind of belied the intent of his words by tucking Cor more firmly into his chest, anyway. “Kick a man while he’s down, why don’t you?”

“I’m sure you’ll survive.” Titus answered, voice warm. Cor could picture the exact eye roll to go with that tone. “And even if you don’t, I’m sure Nyx still loves you.” 

Cor hummed in the back of his throat. “Nyx is almost certainly going to be pissed that I got myself hurt, and us stuck… somewhere. Where are we again?” 

“Yeah… uh,” Titus trailed off, and the hesitancy in his voice made Cor tense up. “So don’t freak out. But we’re in a cell. Prisoners.” 

“What.”

It didn’t make sense.

“Yeah.”

“But the empire doesn’t take prisoners.” 

“Apparently, we’re the exception.” 

“Aw, fuck.”

“Yeah.” Titus sighed, then lapsed into a silence for a moment. When he spoke again, there was a much more obvious sliver of controlled panic in his tone. “Also, uh. I can’t - they put like a bracelet on my wrist, and it’s blocking me using my magic. Don’t know if you got one too or not.” 

Cor tried to reach into the armiger, and much to his relief, a potion materialized in his hand. “Looks like I’m good.” 

Just as he was about to let it go again, though, Titus grabbed it, then smashed it over his head none too gently. Cor made a noise of protest but it died on his lips as the pain in his side receded and the aching he hadn’t even noticed in his head disappeared entirely. 

“There, all fixed.” Titus grinned, gripping Cor tighter when he made to sit up. “But it probably won’t stop Nyx being mad.” 

“The hypocrite.” 

“You say, like you’re not also a massive hypocrite.” 

“Shush.”

Titus snorted, and Cor grinned into his chest, even as they fell into silence again. There was no kind of window, or light from anywhere, and the only sound was their breathing, and clothes rustling when they did eventually move. They ended up propped against the wall and each other. Titus slung one arm over Cor’s shoulders. 

He had no idea how much time passed, with just the small echoing of their breathing filling the space, but it was enough time for the exhaustion to catch up with him. He let his eyes slip shut, and basked in relative peace. There was nothing they could do, really. He knew from past experience that there’d be no way to bust the door open from the inside of the cell. Cor found his thoughts wandering to home, to Nyx, and his friends, and how worried they all must be. 

His idle daydreaming was derailed by the door swinging open, casting him in a rectangle of light so bright it had him hissing curses as he tried to shield his eyes. A long figure stepped into the room, and just before the door fell shut after him, bright white lights switched on above them. 

“How cute,” A dry, deep voice remarked from above them. “Marshal of the Crownsguard and Captain of the Kingsglaive - two of the most powerful men in Lucis, cuddling for warmth.” 

“Well, I don’t mean to imply you’re a bad host, but uh, there’s not much in the way of heating in here.” Titus retorted, tone dripping sarcasm.

Cor grunted in agreement and brought up one of his arms to shield his eyes against the lights. “We could give you a list of improvements if you want. This place could use a few touch-ups, maybe a fresh coat of paint to hide those blood stains. A light bulb with a warmer colour temperature, too, to bring some atmosphere into the room.”

Next to him, Titus snorted.

“Well I hate to disappoint such prestigious guests, but unfortunately, I’m here to make your stay less comfortable, not more.” The officer sneered. 

“Oh no, Titus, I think the scary man wants to hurt us! Whatever shall we do?!” Cor gasped, sarcasm heavy in his voice as he held a hand over his heart.

This time, Titus couldn’t contain his humour in a snort, and instead burst out laughing. 

“You’d do well to drop the bravado and co-operate.” The guard growled, taking another step closer to them, hand resting on a gun holster. “There will be consequences, if you don’t.” 

Cor raised an eyebrow in response. “And what will these… consequences entail?” 

The guard’s smile turned decidedly nasty. 

“You’ll find out soon enough. Let’s begin, shall we?” 

* * * 

Nyx rolled his shoulders, his head tilted back to look at the blue skies above as the sound of the car engine grew further and further away, leaving him alone at the drop-off point. The air was hot and dry, and he was once again reminded by his years-long hatred towards the person that had come up with the regulations regarding the Kingsglaive uniform. If his knowledge on ice magic was any worse, the black leather would bake him alive before the day was over. 

He wasn’t going to complain though. Not by much, anyway, because at least the mission had gotten him out of desk duty. The hot and dry desert climate of Leide was loads better than the empty office back at the Glaive HQ. He was still annoyed by the fact that Titus had refused to let him back to full duty and left him behind while everyone else had been deployed to the front-lines, taking all of his friends and Cor, the dick. The signs and symptoms of his concussion had been long gone by the morning of the deployment, but because he hadn’t been able to get a doctor’s appointment to prove he was all good, Titus hadn’t let him come along. 

At least Lord Amicitia had been more reasonable and saved him from being killed by boredom, even if that was after three whole days of suffering at desk duty. 

The mission was supposed to be easy, just some simple recon after suspicious activity had been seen in the area. It was low risk, and made for the perfect little outing. The only real danger was the sun blazing down on him from the cloudless sky, so he would have to be careful not to overheat.

Shaking his head, Nyx turned his gaze to the large desert that opened up before him. The Three Valleys were looming in the distance, maybe three or four kilometres out. He had better get going if he didn't want to spend the entire day under the sun in his uniform.

An hour passed before he reached the valleys, and he was a sweaty mess by the time he stumbled under the closest shade. It wasn't the fastest he could've crossed the distance, but he had had to take a few breaks to cool off and stay hydrated. Both Titus and Cor, not to even mention his friends, would never let him forget it if he failed at his mission because he passed out from heat exhaustion. He would have to remember to thank Crowe for teaching him more ice magic, it was a literal lifesaver in the scorching heat.

He stood under the shade for some minutes, drinking some more water to get his energy back up and breathing back under control. It was just too damn hot to wear the whole uniform, so he made the decision to take off the heavy jacket, instead wrapping it around his waist. No one was there to see him anyway, so the news of his regulation breaking wouldn’t get back to the higher ups. 

Just as he finished tying the jacket, a faint noise from the valleys drew his attention. After a few moments, the noise repeated, and Nyx realised what it was. 

It was a cry for help. 

Swearing under his breath, Nyx took off running in the direction of the cry. 

“Call out!” Nyx shouted, his gaze darting around in an attempt to locate the person. “I’m coming, keep calling out!” 

The ground was no longer flat and open here, but disrupted by ruins of buildings and pipelines with the rock formations rising around them. The good sign was that he wasn’t seeing any beasts around and wouldn’t have to waste his time and energy on fighting them when someone needed him. 

“Help! Please, help me!” A man’s voice shouted from the direction of the ruins. 

“Hold on! I’ll be right there!” Nyx called back, trying to go for a reassuring tone as he jumped over a couple of small rocks and pushed himself to run faster. “Are you injured?” 

“Please!” the man continued, either too panicked to respond to Nyx’s question or just ignoring it. “Please, I need help!” 

There, it was coming from inside one of the ruins. 

“I’m coming!” Nyx’s lungs burned from exertion, the dry air doing nothing to help, but he pushed on. He still had half a mind to grab one of the kukris from his thigh holster as he entered the derelict building. “Where are you?” 

“In here! Please–” 

Nyx ducked through a series of doorways until he spotted a figure huddled in the corner of one of the rooms. The man must have been somewhere around his age, sitting on the ground with his knees to his chest, his arms hooked around his neck to hide his face to his knees. There weren’t any injuries that Nyx could see right away. 

“Hey,” He said, his voice breathless as he stepped into the room. “Are you hurt?” 

The man looked up, tears streaking down his cheeks. “I– I’m sorry!” 

Nyx frowned, taking another step closer. “What are you sorry about?” 

Not even a second later there was a rush of heavy footsteps behind him and a bag or a hood of sorts was thrown over his head. Nyx swore, throwing his elbow back at an angle to catch the assailant in the jaw, and it connected. The assailant stumbled back with a string of heated words that Nyx realised were in Nifltunga. His heart leapt in his throat and he spun on his heels, blindly striking out with lightning while reaching up to pull the hood off with his free hand. 

There was a cry as the lightning connected, but at the same time something thin and sharp was plunged into his bare arm. 

He ripped the hood off, throwing it aside as he stumbled back, his gaze darting to his arm. There was a needle sticking out of him. Nyx looked up, fear blooming in his chest. Another step back and he faltered, collapsing down on one knee. The world spun in his eyes, slow and taunting. 

Fuck, he should have never taken the jacket off. 

A group of three men – his assailants, Nyx realised – walked up to him, and the one in the lead smirked down at him before raising his hand up. Nyx faintly registered the gun-shaped object in it, but by then it came crashing down on his skull and everything went dark. 

* * *

Nyx groaned, waking up to the mother of all headaches. It pulsed along to his heartbeat, deep and intense, nearly drowning out the nausea that swirled in his gut. Six, he had just recovered from one concussion, he really didn’t need another one so soon. His doctor was going to murder him. 

A couple of deep breaths later Nyx risked opening his eyes. He leaned his head back, grimacing at the fresh wave of pain it sent through him, and propped it against his shoulder. His arms were chained somewhere above him, he then realised sluggishly. It was a really annoying position, but at least he couldn’t have been hanging there for long, considering his shoulders hadn’t yet dislocated. 

It fit the atmosphere of the room, though, dark grey cement surrounding him from all sides with suspicious splatters covering the floor and even some of the walls. Nyx exhaled softly, stretching his feet to see if he could support himself and ease off some of the pressure on his shoulders. The tips of his toes just barely brushed against the decidedly cold floor, but it was better than nothing, even if it would wear him out faster. He much preferred exhaustion and sore muscles over dislocated shoulders and breathing troubles. 

He had really messed up this time, hadn’t he? 

There was a desk shoved up against the corner nearest to the heavy-looking metal door with an ancient computer on top of it, the screen angled away from him. If he got out of the chains, maybe he could use it to send a message to someone. Though, knowing the Niffs, they had password-protected the motherfucker just to spite him. 

A smaller, metallic table was positioned near it. Nyx had tried his best to ignore it until then, but it was the only thing left to look at. It was split on two levels, each of them filled with a myriad of tools that could only be meant for one thing.

Torture. 

It seemed like the concussion was going to be the least of his worries. 

A shiver went up Nyx’s spine and he let his eyes fall shut, drawing in a deep breath. It was a typical scare tactic to leave the intended torture equipment out like that, just like it was to string him up from the ceiling and strip him of his shirt and shoes. He half-wondered if they would have taken his socks, too, if he had been wearing them. Probably. One side of Nyx’s lips twitched up into a brief smile despite the gravity of the situation. 

He tried to keep his eyes away from the table, look anywhere else in the room, but the metal was shiny and kept drawing his attention. The more time passed, the more agitated he grew. He wondered if it was yet another tactic, to leave him alone for such a long time, or if his captors just weren’t aware he had regained consciousness already. He did have a habit of having weird reactions to drugs, so it was possible his system had flushed out whatever he had been jabbed with faster than intended. 

Eventually, though, the door creaked open, the shriek of the rusty hinges making Nyx wince. Two men in Niff uniforms entered, each with a look intended for intimidation on their face. Nyx had been through captivity a few times over the years, though, and a simple expression wasn’t going to startle him. 

“About time someone came here,” Nyx remarked with a sharp smile, “I was starting to get lonely. Those lovely tools you have on that table there don’t really make for good company.” 

The man that entered first, the smaller of the two men, rolled his eyes and glanced at his friend, saying something in Nifltunga to make him snort. The friend then walked over to the computer, shaking his head, and leaned over the keyboard to most likely power it. 

“We shall see how long that smile stays on,” Tiny said with a thick accent as he went over to the torture table. 

Nyx watched him carefully, but did his best to appear nonchalant, even while his apprehension grew. 

“What’s wrong with my smile?” He asked, a mock pout on his face. “Others have told me it’s quite charming. It’s not like I have bad teeth either.” 

Tiny didn’t answer, ignoring Nyx in favour of running his hands idly over the selection of tools on the top shelf of the table. He seemed to inspect each item carefully, lingering on some before moving on. With Tiny in the way, Nyx couldn’t quite see what was on that particular part of the table. All he could do was wait, his apprehension growing with every passing second. Whatever Tiny picked now would give him an indication of how this was all going to go. 

His selection made, Tiny held something up, but all Nyx saw was a momentary glint of light, and then Tiny had moved to face his friend, the object obscured once more. 

Metallic. Shiny.

Not one of the whips, then. That was something, at least. 

Tiny and his friend had a rapid discussion in Nifltunga, far too fast for Nyx to keep track of, even if he had known more of the language.

“Feeling pretty ignored over here, guys.” Nyx huffed, tugging experimentally at the chains. They didn’t give at all. 

“Don’t rush us, glaive.” Tiny sighed, sparing him an unimpressed glance over one shoulder. “All the attention will be on you soon enough.” 

Well, that didn’t sound so good. 

Titus and Cor were going to kill him when he got out of here. 

If he got out of here. 

As they carried on their conversation, Nyx ran through a breathing exercise Cor had taught him to help him after nightmares, just to try and keep his head calm. He kept sighing randomly, the way it kept making Tiny twitch was amusing, if nothing else.

Then he turned round, and Nyx saw the small, sharp dagger he was holding. Tiny barely gave him a moment for the fear to settle in his stomach before he was stalking forwards, glaring at Nyx. 

Nyx gave him his best shit-eating grin, even as he reached out and grabbed at Nyx’s shins, dragging his legs behind him, forcing them to bend at the knee. Nyx found himself grabbing at thin air instinctively, trying to break his fall – that wouldn’t have happened anyway thanks to being shackled up – as he was lurched forwards. He felt Tiny’s arms wrap securely around both his calves, but Nyx was more preoccupied with the sudden strain on his shoulders, at least until he felt the blade of the dagger being pressed into one heel.

“Uh, what’cha planning here, fellas?” Nyx asked, twisting awkwardly to try and keep his eyes on Tiny. Not that it was going to stop him. “You’re kinda going off-script here.” 

Tiny dragged the dagger along the sole of his foot, the motion leaving a scratching, hot pain in its wake. Nyx hissed, instinctively flinching away, but Tiny’s grip was solid. 

“Really?” Tiny asked, trailing the dagger tip back up his foot idly. “And what script is that, Nyx?”

Icy fear flooded his veins, his deliberate calmness crumbling away in seconds, even as he forced himself not to twitch, not to move a single muscle. He could still feel his heart thumping against his sternum, faster than it had been a second ago. He closed his eyes and forced a deep breath into his lungs, refusing to let the sudden panic clawing through him make his throat tight. 

They knew his name. 

They knew who he was.

It changed everything. 

“Oh, you know, the standard script for these things,” He managed to grit out eventually, although it lacked the edge of bravado that he’d had before. Tiny dug the dagger back into his heel, mere millimetres from the first cut, and dragged the dagger down again, faster this time. Nyx swore under his breath. “Where you say how you’re gonna make me talk and then demand to know something, and I just keep making jokes at your expense while you get mad.” 

If they knew his name, that meant he’d been snatched deliberately. 

Specifically. 

They wanted him, not just a glaive grunt, but him, for some reason. 

He was only a lieutenant, and only been made up very recently, at that, so he doubted it was to try and get information out of him. No, more likely they wanted him because of something else. His connections, then. 

Tiny snorted, but kept on making precise cuts down the length of his foot. “Oh, did no one tell you? That sure is the script, but you’re not the main character today, Nyx. Oh no, today, you are the support act.” 

Nyx huffed, biting his lip to stop any sort of sound escaping him. These tiny little cuts were so damn annoying. Just deep enough to sting and be irritating, not so deep as to trigger an adrenaline response. He could feel all of them, stinging sensations building up like he had a thousand tiny paper cuts. 

And it did not bode well, he knew. Starting with his feet more than likely meant they were expecting him to try and run, and they wanted to stop that preemptively. They wanted him around for a while. This wasn’t going to be a quick thing. 

He tried to think back to their - admittedly limited - training for this, but they’d only really glanced over basics. The empire didn’t usually take prisoners, and the few times he’d been captured before, they had gone all out from the start, trying to force a break in loyalty and glean information quickly before moving on. He didn’t like the change in approach. 

And if he was supposed to be the support act, then who were they targeting really? He couldn’t see that this had anything to do with his status in Galahd – and if it had, then they’d gone about this abysmally wrong, anyway, because if they were going to extort something from anyone in Galahd then it should’ve been him – and he didn’t exactly count among the King’s inner circle, even though he was dating two of his closest – 

Oh.

They were trying to use him to get to Cor or Titus. 

Cor, probably. 

He’d always had to hide his relationship with Titus more, in case anyone started making a fuss about the fraternisation. Even though it was still technically fraternisation for him to be with Cor, no one seemed to care as much about that one. They’d been a little more open. 

And apparently, that had been noticed. 

But surely, they must’ve realised that Cor was on the front-lines by now? Cor wasn’t exactly the kind of person to go unnoticed when he stepped onto a battlefield. Why did they think now was the time to try anything like this? 

It didn’t make sense! 

Unless… had something happened to Cor? 

Oh gods, had they captured him?! 

Nyx didn’t realise he’d let his breathing spin out of control until Tiny stopped his steady movements. 

“Oh hey, hey! Calm down, Nyx.” He said, patting at his calves in a weirdly soothing manner. “Nyx, take it easy. We’ve got a long way to go, I can’t be having you so wound up this early on.” 

“What are you doing to him?!” Nyx demanded, voice cracking painfully as he tried to twist to see Tiny. “Where is he?!” 

Tiny patted his calves once more, reaffirmed his grip, and continued his work, even though Nyx was still far from calm. 

“Well,” Tiny huffed a small laugh. Nyx felt a thin rivulet of blood trickle down the side of his foot. “I didn’t think you’d work it out so quickly. You’re smarter than I was led to believe.” 

Nyx couldn’t hold back a horrified noise. He was right. They had Cor. 

He didn’t want to be right! 

By now, Tiny had managed to cover both his feet in thin, lengthwise cuts, all dripping and trickling blood agonisingly slowly. 

“Hmm, what do you think? Think that’ll be painful to walk on?” Tiny murmured, pressing the flat side of the blade against his foot. 

Nyx flinched.

“Okay,” Tiny murmured, pressing the blade down in a few other places. Each one made him twitch, but he didn’t try and pull away. “So, it’s not pleasant for you right now, but it’s not overly bothersome either, is it?” 

From the corner of his eye, he saw Tiny nod to himself. 

Then the dagger was pressed back into the first cut, and driven deeper. Nyx flinched again, a pained sound escaping him as he felt blood well up around the tip of the blade. He had to get out of here. He had to get out and find Cor. He couldn’t let himself be used against Cor like that. 

Tiny ignored him, ignored the sounds he couldn’t quite keep caged behind his teeth, ignored every movement he made, and carried on deepening each and every one of the cuts on his feet. 

It went on for what felt like hours. Tears pricked at his eyes, and although the pain from each cut was miniscule, the accumulation of them - combined with the ever-growing ache of his shoulders straining to take his weight - was becoming too much to cope with as Tiny continued with his ministrations, cross-hatching every which way he could across his feet, across his toes, diving deeper with every repetition until Nyx was half-convinced there wasn’t any skin left intact. 

When he next pressed the blade flat against them, Nyx sobbed. 

“There,” Tiny sighed, releasing his feet and walking back to the table, bloodied dagger grasped loosely in one hand. “That’ll make you think twice about trying anything, hmm? And if you do try anything, I’ll whip them raw, you got that, Nyx?” 

Nyx didn’t answer, too distracted trying to figure out whether it was better to accept the risk of dislocating a shoulder and remain hanging, or whether he needed to force himself onto his tiptoes and alleviate pressure as much as he could, despite the pain it was causing. 

Nyx twitched when Tiny dropped the dagger back onto the table carelessly and it clattered noisily. He watched the man inspect the other items on the table, conversing with the friend that hadn’t moved away from the computer in hushed tones. The uneasy feeling inside him was growing stronger with each passing second. He didn’t like not knowing what was going to happen. He knew it was going to cause him pain, that much was given, but he didn’t know what to really expect. 

They had Cor, and Tiny had told him he was only the “support act”, which meant Cor was their primary target. His best guess was that they were going to try to use him to get to him, but how would they do that when they weren’t even in the same room?  It was possible it was a mental game, keep them separate so they weren’t able to communicate with each other, and it did make sense on some level. In that case, there needed to be a way for Tiny and his buddy to relay messages with the people that were with Cor. 

Nyx’s gaze trailed from the table to the computer. He could see the light from the screen reflecting off Tiny's friend’s glasses, but it was impossible for him to tell what was on it because of the angle. It was the most likely option, though, considering he hadn’t seen either of the men wearing an earpiece. If only he could see what was on the screen…

Tiny leaned down and picked a baseball bat from the ground. Nyx’s eyes widened, though he wasn’t sure if it was from the anticipation of pain or the incredulity of the situation. He hadn’t noticed the bat earlier with the way it had been tucked against the far corner of the table, mostly hidden from his sight. It was the most un- imaginative thing Tiny could have chosen, but he supposed he shouldn’t have been surprised. Even with his limited interrogation training, he knew the common torture methods were also the simplest – and that’s what beating was, though the baseball bat did add a bit of flavour to it. 

“You know, I don’t think this room is large enough for baseball,” he remarked, internally grimacing at the lameness of the quip. 

“It’s a good thing I’m not using it for that, then,” Tiny replied, moving the bat in his hands as if weighing it. He still didn’t look at Nyx, instead switching back to Nifltunga to finish his conversation with Glasses. Nyx was tempted to say something about feeling a little ignored, but then figured it would be better if he used the opportunity to enforce his mental shields as much as he could, taking deep breaths to calm his heart. Beatings might not have been the most gruesome or painful method, but it was still bound to leave him with a broken bone or two, not to mention a large variety of bruises.

It was only a minute later that Glasses’ eyes darted back to the computer screen, and he gave Tiny a firm nod. 

“It’s time for us to properly kick things off,” Tiny said, a hint of a smile on his face as he turned to stalk towards Nyx like a predator would its prey. “Isn’t it exciting, Nyx?” 

“Do I get a turn with the bat?” Nyx asked instead of answering, going for an easy, charming tone. “I feel like it would be only fair, you know? Sharing is caring.” 

“I’m afraid that’s against the rules of the game.” Tiny fixed his grip on the handle. “Though I suppose you can choose what body part I start with, if that would make you feel better.” 

“If we’re talking about your body parts, I would suggest the head,” Nyx mused. “But if it’s mine you want to go for, I’d prefer it didn’t start, to be honest. My skin can be kinda sensitive and baseball bats aren’t really a part of my skincare routine.” 

Tiny stared at him for a moment, impassive, and Nyx tried his best not to squirm under the scrutinising gaze.

“I guess the decision is mine, then,” He then said and took position. A protest formed on Nyx’s lips but not a word came out before the bat was swung at his midsection. He just barely managed to tighten his core muscles before it landed, eliciting a strangled groan from his lips. 

“A head’s up would’ve been nice,” Nyx hissed. 

Tiny reared back for another swing, and Nyx tilted his head back, eyes shut tight in anticipation of the blow. It came a split second later, right to the ribs, but this time he managed to cage in his reaction and held firm. The pain spread all across his chest and midsection and he gritted his teeth in a grimace. It was only two hits in, and he was realising he wouldn’t be able to keep it up for much longer. Whatever little protection his internal organs got from the tense core for the first strikes wasn’t worth the extra pain in the long run. 

By the fifth swing, Nyx felt something in his chest crack, and the intense pain that radiated across his midsection and stole his breath away made him collapse with a muffled cry. His shoulders screamed from the sudden downward motion, causing his vision to grey around the edges. 

“Is that all you can take, Nyx?” Tiny questioned, using the end of the bat to tilt Nyx’s head up. “I must say I’m disappointed – I was expecting more from the proclaimed Hero of the Kingsglaive.” 

Nyx wheezed in a breath, then another, the stabbing pain in his chest nearly bringing tears to his eyes. He swallowed hard, his gaze hardening into a glare.

“I’m not done yet,” he told him, squeezing his eyes shut as he forced himself back up. His hands trembled, so did the most of his body, but he ignored it as he wrapped his fingers around the chains to hold himself up and ease off some of the pressure from his shoulders. “‘S not gonna be that easy to take me down.” 

“Good, because this isn’t going to be over anytime soon.” 

The next swing went to his thighs, and the one after that landed dangerously close to Nyx’s knees, making him tense and look away sharply. Astrals, a knee injury without quick medical intervention would most likely end his career – end much of his active lifestyle actually, and just the thought made the nausea inside him surge. He breathed in deep through the nose, doing his best to ignore the pain it sparked in his ribs. 

Tiny showed no signs of slowing down, taking a swing after swing after swing at him. Nyx’s breaths became shallow, small pained whimpers and groans escaping him as his determination to stay silent crumbled, more of his ribs cracking under the brutal attack. 

Then one of the strikes landed on his shoulder. A scream tore itself from his throat, his vision darkening when he felt his shoulder pop and the left side of his body dropped an inch or so downwards. His breath hitched, the white-hot, burning pain spreading not only down his shoulder and arm, but also up the side of his neck.

“Oh shit, that wasn’t meant to happen!” Tiny swore, genuine surprise in his voice. 

Nyx didn’t bother with a response – wasn’t even sure if he would manage one with the pain drowning out everything else. He gasped for air, the tiny hitched breaths feeling like repeated punches or stabs to the shoulder. He couldn’t get it under control, the shallow breaths not helping him to calm down, but deeper ones didn’t feel any better either. Glasses called out something, the words lost on Nyx, and Tiny moved away with what sounded like a string of curses. 

Nyx wondered if this was going to be where he passed out. The pain wasn’t easing, and his panic was growing with the lack of air, and he didn’t think he could cling on – or if he even wanted to – for much longer. 

Suddenly the chains above him loosened and he fell. He let out a strangled cry, instinctively trying to get his feet under himself to catch himself, forgetting about the cuts in his panic. Upon contact, sharp and vicious pain burst in his soles, but this time he didn’t have enough air in his lungs to scream. His legs gave out instantly and he crashed down on his bad shoulder. 

The pain was horrible and he was left gasping, black spots filling his vision. There wasn’t a single spot that didn’t hurt, even the slightest move aggravating his injuries. His face was wet, possibly from tears, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. 

He hoped Tiny would let him pass out. 

Someone was moving his arms, drawing soft cries and whimpers from his lips. He didn’t have the energy to struggle and it would only cause him more pain. He wasn’t in any condition to fight himself free and escape when there was barely any air in his lungs. The chains rattled and clinked together, the sound making him shiver. 

Then his leg was nudged. “You’re not going to pass out on me, are you?” 

“An’ what if I do?” Nyx asked, the words sluggish and laced with pain. 

“I’ll give you a shower,” Tiny told him, back to his nonchalant self. “A nice, ice cold one with enough pressure to snap you back to presence.” 

Nyx frowned, opening his eyes to slits to peer up at the man. “A shower?” 

“A shower.” Tiny nudged his side with the baseball bat. “Your choice. We’re not done with the fun just yet.” 

“You know,” Nyx sighed, grimacing at the pain just that caused, “I’m not a huge fan of this whole ‘beat Nyx into a pulp’ thing. It’s not really all that fun.”

“That’s something you should bring up to your boyfriend,” Tiny huffed. Nyx flinched when he threw the bat aside and walked to the back of the room, out of his line of sight. “This ends when he gives us what we want, and not a moment earlier.” 

“He’s not going to give you anything,” Nyx told him, letting his eyes fall shut once more. He could hear Tiny moving around, but he didn’t want to anger his shoulder any more by turning his head to see what he was doing. “It’d kinda be frowned upon if he did. ‘S not like I’m important in the grand scheme of things, the safety of the kingdom comes first.” 

It was a fact that he had come to accept a long time ago. They had never actually talked about it, but it was obvious. Both Cor and Titus, two of the highest ranking officers in the Lucian army, were privy to a bunch of classified information that could hurt or even destroy the country if any of it got into the wrong hands. None of them wanted that. So, even though Nyx didn’t want to die, he would if it meant their people stayed safe. He had just hoped he would get a chance to say his goodbyes to his loved ones if it happened. 

“Maybe you don’t know him as well as you think you do,” Tiny offered, though there wasn’t any emotion behind the words. 

Nyx scoffed. “I do know him. And I wouldn’t want him to give you bastards anything either.”

There was a sound, almost as if a tap being turned, and a second later freezing cold water was sprayed on his face. He yelped and turned his head away, coughing and sputtering as he inhaled some of the water by accident. He tried to move away from the spray, but it followed him, getting him soaking wet all the way from head to toes. The pressure dug into his skin, not enough to draw blood, but painful nonetheless. 

“For your sake, I hope he does,” Tiny said, though Nyx barely heard him over the water. “Would be a shame to kill you.” 

Nyx didn’t respond, concentrating his efforts on trying to get away, only to figure out his hands were now chained to a loop on the floor. He trembled and shivered, his teeth chattering together as the water kept coming, the sparks of pain growing into something overwhelming before too long. He slumped down before too long, resigning himself to his fate. It wasn’t worth the pain to move. It was better than getting beaten by a baseball bat, too. He knew the risk of hypothermia was real, but at the same time, after the initial pain passed, the cold left him pleasantly numb. 

It didn’t last long after that, though, because of course it didn’t. 

Glasses called out something in a gruff tone, and the hose shut off, Tiny scrambling to put it back where it came from and go over to the computer. Nyx remained curled where he was, watching blearily as Tiny took in something on the monitor. 

He was trying desperately not to think about the fact he wasn’t shivering. 

In a way, he was kind of glad, though. He was in enough agony just lying here breathing, his dislocated shoulder still trapped awkwardly underneath him, without the extra pain shivering would have brought. Still, objectively, he knew it wasn’t a good thing. Then again, at least if he caught hypothermia, he’d probably die fast enough to be blissfully unaware of whatever other stuff they were going to do to him next. 

Tiny sighed heavily, then moved to the table. Nyx let his gaze fall to the floor, nausea swelling in his gut. He didn’t want to know what was coming next. He wouldn’t be able to escape it anyway. 

“Are you sure he loves you, Nyx?” Tiny asked, picking up something off the lower shelf and fiddling with it. “If he does, he’s sure got a funny way of showing it.” 

Nyx made a questioning noise, unable to keep from frowning at the question, his eyes straying over to where Tiny was still messing with whatever the hell he’d picked up. Of course he was sure. Cor loved him. Titus too, for that matter. They both went out of their way to let him know it, too. He’d never been more sure of anything in his life. The sun was yellow, the sky was blue, and they loved him.

He was startled back out of his musings by Tiny’s hand gripping his chin and lifting his head up until he was making eye contact. In his other hand, he was holding a thin, black stick with two metal prongs at the end of it. 

His heart leapt up into his mouth. 

Tiny chuckled. “Yeah, you’re scared. It’s okay, I’d be scared too, if I was in your place.” 

Then, he withdrew, letting go of Nyx so suddenly that he couldn’t stop his head falling forward. The surprise shift in weight made a tremor run through his shoulder. The stick came back into his view, hovering mere inches from his face. Nyx couldn’t tear his gaze away from it, another shudder running through him as he waited for the inevitable strike. 

Even though he was expecting it, the pain sent him reeling. Hot agony coursed through his veins as his muscles seized and shook with the jolt of electricity. He wanted to scream, but the sound was caged in his throat, his jaws locked tight together. He couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe, the electricity coursing beneath his skin. It was nearly enough to make him forget about the pain in his dislocated shoulder, everything outside of the electric shock itself fading the longer it kept going.

“You poor thing, taking all this pain so valiantly. Trying so hard not to cry.” Tiny said, sighing softly, his footfalls heavy enough for Nyx to track without moving as he circled round him. Two, three laps, and then the footsteps paused behind him. Nyx tensed, waiting for the next jab of the stick, but for a moment, nothing happened. “You wanna know what your boyfriend thinks of this setup? Wanna know what he’s doing right now?”

Tiny shoved the prod into Nyx’s ribs, eliciting a strangled noise from him. 

“He’s laughing, Nyx.” 

He tried to block out the taunt, instead focusing on not vomiting all over himself, his stomach heaving violently in response to the prod. Astrals, it hurt so bad. There were still aftershocks running through him from that first hit, his lungs felt like they were on fire and the way Tiny had just jabbed the stick right into his cracked ribs was not helping that. His eyes were swimming with tears, as he sucked in a desperate breath. 

“You’re lying.” He eventually managed to pant out, his voice feeble and weak and cracking as he spoke. 

Tiny resumed his circling. “I wish I was. Honestly, Nyx, I do.” 

The next shock, this time in the thigh, brought fresh tears to Nyx’s eyes. The pain was excruciating, drowning out everything else to the point of it being the only thing that existed in those long seconds, maybe minutes, that the prod stayed on his skin. 

You don’t believe me?” Tiny huffed. He pulled the prod away and sighed, as if he was having a conversation with a stubborn child instead of taunting and torturing Nyx. He switched languages then, but Nyx barely even registered it, dragging in desperate, wheezing breaths. Every single part of him was trembling, and he was no longer sure whether that was because of the exhaustion, pain, or the continuous shocks.

Suddenly Tiny was crouching before him, grabbing his chin once more and forcing him to look up and towards Glasses. 

The computer was now angled towards him, and on the screen was a black-and-white picture. 

No, not a picture.

A video, or maybe even live feed, of Cor. And it wasn’t just Cor in there, but Titus as well. They were sitting shoulder to shoulder on the ground, both wearing seemingly nonchalant expressions. 

Nyx’s breath hitched. The quality wasn’t the best, and the distance didn’t help, but it was so clearly them. The men he loved more than anyone, both held captive just like him, except seemingly uninjured. 

Then they laughed, looking at each other as if someone had told them a joke. Cor’s lips moved as he said something, but either there was no sound or it was muted enough not to reach Nyx’s ears.

“See? Laughing,” Tiny said before releasing him and standing back up. He pressed the prod into Nyx’s abdomen and shocked him again, not giving him any time to even sort his thoughts out. “Is he really worth all this pain?”

“It’s not like you’ve given me a choice,” Nyx hissed with a hoarse voice. It wasn’t true. He swallowed thickly and tried to shift into a better position to make eye contact with Tiny. He had known both Cor and Titus for a long time, had been friends with them before their relationship had evolved – which meant he had seen their reactions and how protective they could be of him. They wouldn’t laugh at the torture, not if they knew it was him. “But yeah, he is. And even if he wasn’t, the people he’s trying to protect are.” 

Tiny merely raised his eyebrows and shook his head, like he couldn’t fathom Nyx’s words. “Well, I hope you can hold on to that belief.” 

The next shock lasted much longer than the others, and came so unexpectedly Nyx didn’t have any time to prepare for it. His body tensed and convulsed under the electric current, a tiny strangled noise slipping from his lips. He could feel his consciousness starting to dim the longer the current lasted, but just when he thought he would finally pass out, Tiny stopped. 

Nyx barely managed to drag in one, shaky breath before Tiny shocked him again. This time his head struck the floor, and suddenly everything seemed so far away. He could feel the electricity, could feel the pain from it and his other various injuries, but it felt dimmed, not as intense.

He could vaguely hear Tiny swear, and the electricity was turned off, but by then it was too late and Nyx sunk into oblivion. 

* * * 

“Oh, my gods,” Cor sighed, tipping his head back against the wall and giving in to the urge to roll his eyes. The daily interrogation sessions had stopped being amusing fast, even if neither of them had been harmed for their refusal to cooperate. The captors kept asking the exact same questions – even in the same exact order each time – and it was starting to grow old. There were only so many ways to antagonise them before it got too repetitive and boring.  “You’ve asked us the same twenty questions for the past – what, week? – now. When are you going to realise that I’m not telling you shit?” 

It was concerning, but at this point he’d honestly rather take the promised consequences for not answering, although thus far they’d yet to actually follow through on that threat. 

“Let’s try again. Where are the weakest points in the wall? Where does the escape tunnel from the throne room emerge? What are the most prominent weaknesses in the citadel’s defen…”

“Titus, I’m gonna cry.” Cor groaned, hands clenching into fists in his hair. “He’s gonna make me actually cry from boredom.” 

“Oh, so you can sit through that extra-long special edition film trilogy like it’s riveting, but this is too much for you?” Titus replied sharply, but Cor caught the way his lip twitched like he wanted to grin. 

“Screw you,” He huffed, pouting. “It is riveting. You just have no taste.”

The officer was still droning his way through his list of questions, but Titus bringing up that age old not-really-an-argument had done the trick, and he could feel some of the pent up frustration bleeding out of his shoulders as he caught Titus’ eye. 

At least they wouldn’t have to suffer through it for much longer. They had spent enough time listening to the guards to have figured out their shifts and schedules, which meant in a day or two, they’d be ready to bust out of here. 

Two days. 

He could listen to this miserable ass go on and on for two days. 

And then they could get back home to Nyx, hopefully before he managed to speak to Regis and get his help bullying Clarus into letting him do something stupid, like head up a rescue mission. And then, just out of sheer spite – because he’d never denied he was a spiteful creature – he was going to snuggle up with his boyfriends and watch his special edition film trilogy with the extra half hour of deleted scenes, and they could suck it up. 

And he wouldn’t be bored. 

“What protocols are there for when the safety of the crystal is compromised?”

Two days couldn’t go fast enough. 

Cor screwed his eyes shut and did his best to block out the rest of the list of questions - it didn’t work, he had the list memorised, and despite his best attempts, the next question always popped up in his mind before it was asked, like the world’s most boring sing-along track. 

A warm shoulder bumped into his as they got to the bottom of the list, and he let himself lean against Titus minutely as they waited in silence for the guy to give up and leave. Cor sighed, annoyance fading even more when the guy finally turned away from them and left them alone once more. 

“Hey, it’s gonna be okay. Not long now.” Titus murmured softly, snaking one arm behind Cor’s shoulders. 

“I know,” Cor answered, just as quietly, then huffed a laugh to himself. “It’s just so annoying. Those questions are gonna be the soundtrack of my nightmares.”

“Really? You’re anticipating nightmares from this? The time we got captured and weren’t harmed at all?” 

Cor pulled a face, but he smiled soon after. Titus had a point. This didn’t even make his top ten list of crappy situations. He’d feel much worse about it, if he thought for a second that the threatened consequences were actually going to be carried out. But if they hadn’t started torturing either of them in a week, it wasn’t likely they were going to start, and Titus had said he was certain he’d accounted for all his glaives before he ran out to get to Cor, so there wasn’t anyone else taken prisoner here with them. 

“Whatever,” Cor said, shuffling further into Titus’ side. “Let’s just get everything timed to perfection so we can go tomorrow.”

“The day after tomorrow. Let’s not take any chances and get caught on our way out.” Titus replied, with an eye roll and a fond smile.

“Just for that extra day, I’m going to expect some sort of compensation from you,” Cor muttered, leaning his head on Titus’ shoulder.   

“I’m sure we can figure out something,” Titus smirked, the suggestive tone in his voice and the gentle nudge that accompanied it revealing just what type of compensation he was thinking. “I already have a few things in mind.” 

Cor grinned slyly. “Oh yeah? Tell me more.” 

“Well, we could start by -” 

Titus was cut off abruptly by the door swinging open again, and Cor barely had time to look around, eyes wide in surprise, when the two guards that had appeared in the doorway flung something onto the floor of the cell. It hit the ground with a heavy thud. 

Blinking, it took Cor far too long to figure out it was a body, and then far too long to realise he recognised the dark, matted hair. 

His heart began beating double time, throat tight under the sudden onslaught of ice cold fear settling over him.

It couldn’t be. 

Please gods, it couldn’t be!

He was stuck staring at their hair while he desperately hoped he was mistaken, but then his gaze snagged on a familiar braid, the dark blue beads gleaming in the harsh light. 

Breath stuck somewhere in his chest, Cor scrambled forwards, years of ingrained training urging him to check for a pulse, check for breathing, but at the same time he felt frozen stiff with fear, dread crusting up his insides. 

What if there wasn’t one?

Nyx wasn’t moving.

He was alive - from this angle Cor could see the rapid and worryingly shallow rise and fall of his chest, breaths wheezing ever so slightly - but he wasn’t moving. He hadn’t so much as twitched since they threw him down. 

“Ti?” Cor’s voice was barely audible, but it might as well have been a shout in the silent cell. His hands hovered over Nyx’s body, too afraid to touch. There were so many injuries, so much blood and bruising. 

His chest was covered in black and blue bruising, and Cor knew there had to be at least a couple of broken ribs, maybe more. He crushed down the fear and despair that threatened to rise inside him, his hand shaking as he leaned down to gently cup the side of his face. 

“He’s burning up,” Cor hissed, his eyes narrowing into a heated glare as he looked up at the guard. “You bastards! What have you done to him?!” 

 “I told you there’d be consequences.” The guard merely shrugged, a sadistic smile on their face as they reached for the door to slam it shut. “I’ll let you reflect on your actions for a while, then see if you feel like talking.”

“You bastards!” The only thing that stopped Cor from getting to his feet and destroying the guard and every other Niff in the vicinity was Nyx, who was still so unnervingly still. It was wrong . Nyx was always active and moving around, even in his sleep. 

“I suggest the next time, when asked, you answer the questions,” The guard added, “Your boyfriend doesn’t look like he can take much more.” 

The door slammed shut. 

Titus was at his side a split second later, reaching to check out Nyx’s pulse with a breathy string of curse words. 

“Nyx, love, can you open your eyes for us?” Cor asked – pleaded – as he brushed his thumb over Nyx’s dirty and bloodied cheek. They had beaten him up badly, every inch of visible skin covered in bruises, cuts or blood. A closer look revealed his swollen shoulder, which, based on the angle, was also dislocated. 

“We need to get him on his side, in the recovery position,” Titus told him in an urgent whisper, even though there was no reason for them to be quiet – they had quickly figured out the Niffs didn’t have mics or recording devices in the room. Cor nodded, and reluctantly withdrew his hand from Nyx’s face to assist Titus. He was hesitant to touch Nyx, not wanting to hurt him more or make things worse, but the logical part of his brain knew they had to do something to help him. 

Nyx let out a weak, thin whine, his face twisting with pain when they accidentally jarred his injured shoulder, and Cor’s heart leapt in his throat. 

“Nyx, sweetheart, open your eyes,” he begged, but Nyx had fallen still once more.

“I don’t understand,” Titus shook his head, worry shining in his eyes. “How could he have found us so quickly? And got here? And –” 

“They haven’t done this to him that fast.” Cor butted in, voice numb as the truth settled in his mind. “They’ve had him as long as they’ve had us.”

“But how?” Titus sounded desperate, almost angry. “He was supposed to be safe at home! How did he end up here?!” 

Cor’s shoulders slumped as he pulled away. He shook his head weakly. “I don’t know.

“But we need to do something, Ti. He needs medical attention, more than we can give him. We don’t even have a godsdamn potion to give him!”

Why had he let Titus use his last remaining potion on him, when he’d fought through far worse wounds before? What a waste. He ran a hand through his hair, refusing to pay attention to how badly it shook. 

“You’re right. Let’s get him into the recovery position.” 

Cor didn’t answer, transfixed by the myriad of dark colours on Nyx’s chest, swirling into each other. Blacks, blues, purples, all blending and overlapping, all over him, with streaks of brighter red dried on and scabbed over in places, all only serving to remind Cor what a callous bastard he’d been. 

He felt sick. 

Titus hadn’t exactly been in the best frame of mind when they’d been caught. He could have easily miscounted his glaives. It could have been any one of them lying here, beaten to a pulp, and what had he done? 

Laughed in their captors’ faces. 

It was his fault Nyx was lying in front of them half-dead. 

“Cor, c’mon. Help me roll him.” 

“We can’t wait two days.” Cor whispered back, still not quite daring to reach out and touch Nyx. He didn’t want to cause him any more pain. He’d done enough as it was. He blinked, then, thoughts finally breaking out of the spiral they’d been in, and looked at Titus. 

“Ti, we have to get him out now. He -” Cor cut himself off, tears welling in his eyes as he realised what he was going to say. “He doesn’t have two days.” 

He trailed off into a shaky whisper, a sob clawing up his throat as he saw Titus’ hands still where they’d been patting Nyx down for more hidden injuries. Cor raised his own and covered his face, trying desperately not to let the tears spill over, but they came anyway, another sob wracking his frame. 

Warm arms wrapped around him, pulled him in closer to a broad chest, and Titus’ breath tickled his ear. 

“I know,” Titus sighed, squeezing Cor gently. “And I know you’re probably thinking this is your fault,”

“It is my fault.” Cor interrupted, sniffling weakly, but Titus carried on over the top of him, words murmured in a low, soothing rumble. 

“But you won’t help him by blaming yourself. Nyx needs you - needs us - to keep it together. He’s counting on us to get him out of here. We don’t have time to sit here and feel guilty.” 

 “You’re right.” Cor whispered, blinking his eyes free of tears, only for more to immediately spill over. “But it doesn’t change the fact that I’m the reason he got hurt.” 

Titus hummed noncommittally, but didn’t say anything else. He squeezed Cor’s shoulders again as Cor took a shuddering breath, then pulled away and sat up. “Let’s get him away from the door, and see if we can wake him up, yeah?” 

Cor nodded, dragging his shirt up to wipe at his eyes. “Yeah, good idea.” 

He shuffled closer to Nyx’s head, gingerly brushing his fingers against Nyx’s cheek. Despite him just barely making contact, Nyx let out another small whimper at the touch, and his eyelids fluttered. 

“Nyx!” He gasped, eyes widening. “Sweetheart, can you hear me?” 

Nyx stared up at him, his deep blue eyes unfocused and clearly unseeing. Cor reached down and gently pressed his palm to Nyx’s brow, his heart cracking into two when even that soft touch had Nyx flinching, breaths coming in shallow rasps. 

“He’s awake?” 

Cor nodded, refusing to tear his eyes away from Nyx’s. He saw Titus scramble over Nyx and kneel opposite him from his peripherals anyway. “Sweetheart?” 

“Cor,” Nyx’s voice was a mere ghost of a whisper, so horribly rough that it made Cor wince. But he was awake, blinking up at him slowly, and most importantly, he was alive. “No, no’ here.” 

“We are here, love.” Cor replied, forcing down a wave of worry for how slurred his words were. “We’re with you.” 

“Real?” He asked, then coughed softly. Even that had him whimpering, a shudder running through him, and Cor could only imagine the wave of pain that followed it as he watched tears gather in Nyx’s eyes and he tried to lift his good arm, to wrap over his torso.

“Yes,” Titus answered him, gently grabbing Nyx’s hand and holding it, not letting him put it down on his battered chest. “We’re real, Nyx. We’ve got you.” 

Nyx let out a soft breath. 

This was promising. If Nyx was aware of his surroundings, perhaps he’d be able to at least walk with assistance while they escaped. It would still be faster than one of them having to carry him out. It also meant they wouldn’t be quite as defenceless, with more hands available.  

“Hey, love,” Cor murmured, smiling when Nyx shifted his gaze over to him. “You think you’d be able to walk if we helped you?”

Nyx flinched instantly, his breaths getting more and more rapid and panicked until each one was accompanied with a pained whine, and his eyes glazed over, that spark of cognizance fading into a cloud of pain. “Nonono, please, Tiny, not that. Please.” 

Cor could only watch helplessly as Nyx tripped and slurred over his words, and then, with a final whimper, passed out again. It didn’t make sense. He was more out of it than they’d thought, then. 

Shit. 

He slowly looked up, and met Titus’ equally worried gaze. “Guess that’s a no to him walking, then.” 

“I don’t get it.” Cor admitted softly, watching as Nyx’s breaths started to even out again. “He seemed…”

“He’s got a fever, and I highly doubt he’s gone through whatever they’ve done to him with out getting a concussion. He’s going to be out of it. But it’s a good sign that he woke up, right? He’s still fighting.” 

“Yeah. We need to get him out of here.” 

“Tonight.” Titus nodded, mouth set in a firm line. “For now, let’s get him away from the door.” 

Cor nodded, and moved over to crouch by Nyx’s head, sliding his arms under his shoulders as gently as he could manage. Nyx still ended up flinching when he put even the slightest amount of pressure on his shoulder. 

"I'll grab his feet.” Titus murmured, slowly standing. He paused for a moment, letting his hand drop onto Cor’s shoulder. Cor tried to take some small comfort from the gesture, but he still felt a fresh wave of guilt and nausea each time he looked at Nyx. 

“Ready?” Cor asked, beginning to tighten his grip and pull Nyx more securely into his arms. 

Titus didn’t answer. 

Frowning, Cor shifted Nyx’s weight until his head was supported on Cor’s shoulder, then looked up. Titus had his hands cupped around the back of Nyx’s heels and was staring down at them, expression dangerously blank. 

“Titus? Honey?” Still no answer, he didn’t even blink at Cor’s words. “What is it? What’s wrong?”

Moving in a way that belied carefully controlled anger, Titus carefully wrapped one arm around both of Nyx’s shins, the other snaking underneath his thighs to lend more support there. “They’ve cut the soles of his feet to shreds, and they’re infected. Badly infected.” 

Cor winced, even as Titus rose up out of his crouch, and he had to rush to do the same so the angle didn’t become too much. The last thing Nyx needed right now was them dropping him. 

“Walking on them would be excruciating.” Titus continued with absolutely no inflection. Cor knew better than to think that meant he wasn’t feeling anything, though. Titus was always at his most dangerous when he sounded bored and his expression could have been carved from stone. “He wouldn't have been able to get away on his own even if he had wanted to." 

After that, neither of them said anything while they carefully manoeuvred Nyx around the cell. It wasn’t easy, what with Nyx being deadweight between them, and the fact that neither of them were in any particular rush to put him back down on the bare concrete floor, even though it was arguably going to be better for him. 

Eventually, they managed to get settled, shoulder to shoulder again, with Nyx balanced in their laps. Cor kept running his hand through Nyx’s hair where he was cradling his head, fingers snagging gently over his braids. They kept track of the time, based on the passing patrols and guard changes just outside the door, and in hushed tones, they adjusted their plan to accommodate for carrying Nyx. 

“And now, we wait.” Titus sighed, once everything was finalised and they’d run through it until they had it memorised. He tipped his head back against the wall, one of his hands resting on Nyx’s knee softly. With the other, he sought out Cor’s hand, and gently squeezed. 

Cor squeezed back, watching Nyx’s face carefully for any sign of him waking. 

“And now we wait.”

* * *

Escaping the base went almost precisely as planned. 

As they had figured out over the days they’d been there, there was a ten minute window between the night guards retiring and the day guards actually arriving for their shift. 

As soon as they heard the guards begin to moan about the last few minutes of their shift, Cor had scooped Nyx fully into his lap while Titus stood, and then took Nyx back off him. Then, all it had taken was for him to call out, to break down and promise to talk if they just helped Nyx, and one of the guards had unlocked their door and waltzed into the cell. A swift knock to the back of his head took care of him, and Cor rushed out the cell and dealt with his partner before he could even blink. Once they were both out for the count, Cor dragged them both into the cell, broke their radios, took their weapons, and then unceremoniously locked them in. 

After that, it was easy. 

It was the dead of night, there was no one around but the scheduled patrols, and they were easily dodged. It was one thing Cor could not wrap his head around – each and every Niff base had the same layout, and the same designated patrols. It was as if the Niffs were so confident in their abilities that they weren’t worried about their enemies being able to navigate their bases. But the empire’s oversight was their gain, so he couldn’t complain.

Cor was still cautious as they finally managed to spill out into the cool night air, the threat of lurking daemons was large, but he allowed himself a moment just to bask in the feeling of the breeze through his hair as they meandered away from the base’s defences.

It felt good to be out in the fresh air again. 

“You doin’ okay?” He asked, turning to face Titus. As he did, he cupped a hand over Nyx’s lower face, relieved to feel the soft, but somewhat steady puffs of breath ghosting over his skin. 

“Mm,” Titus responded, shifting Nyx’s weight in his arms. “Could do with a break, but I’d rather not risk it til we hit a haven.” 

“Yeah,” Cor said, turning to survey the area as best he could in the dark. By the light of the stars, he could only make out a few sparse trees and boulders breaking the horizon. Surely not… 

He kicked at the ground, and felt loose sand shift under him, the ground beneath that proving to be a lot more solid when he put more force behind his kick. Well, they certainly weren’t in the grassy meadows of Duscae. 

“Ti,” He mumbled, turning to scan more of the horizon. “Did your glaives report last month about a base being constructed between the Weaverwilds and Keycatrich?” 

“Formouth Garrison, yeah.” Titus murmured back, a thoughtful frown on his face as he too scanned their surroundings. “You think that was it?” 

“Yeah,” He said, looking around again. There! He pointed off to where the disc rose up in the distance. “Which means, if we keep the disc and longwythe peak on our right, we’ll find Hammerhead.” 

“Then let’s get going.” 

For the most part, they walked in silence, leaving each other to their own thoughts. Cor was grateful, in a way. It let him hear Nyx’s pained breathing - a much needed reminder that he was still hanging on - and keep an ear out for any approaching daemons. 

Thankfully, with it being the height of summer, they only had to risk a few hours in the dark before the sun’s rays painted the landscape in soft orange hues, right about the same time that Hammerhead came into view.  

It gave him the renewed vigour he needed to keep walking, and if the way Titus suddenly perked up was anything to go by, the sight of their end goal had done the same for him. It also helped, with the sun rising in the sky, that they could see the ground they were walking on now, eliminating the danger of tripping and stumbling over any scree. 

The sun was high in the sky when they reached the concrete, but Cor didn’t stop, forcing himself to cross the last few metres to the garage, even though all he wanted to do was find a shady spot and sleep for a few hours. 

If he felt this tired from walking all night, he could only imagine how heavily exhaustion must be weighing on Titus. And Nyx couldn’t afford for him to rest, either. His condition was only going to deteriorate the longer he went without treatment. 

“Cid!” He yelled, as soon as he drew close to the open door. He coughed, the dust in the air aggravating his throat after being stuck in a cell for over a week. “Cid! I need your help!” 

His teenage self would have rather died than let those exact words pass through his lips, but he was desperate. His boyfriends needed him.

“Kid? The hell you doin’ out here?” 

“Cid!” Cor rushed through the door and grabbed at Cid’s jacket. “I need a car, now. We have to get back to the city!” 

“Yer in no state to be drivin’ anywhere,” Cid remarked, giving him an unimpressed once over. “Ya look about two seconds from fallin’ asleep where ya stand.” 

“I don’t have time to rest! Nyx is -”

“Cor!” 

Cor whirled around to see Titus in the doorway, Nyx lax and still in his arms, with a grim expression. “We need to go now. He’s getting worse.” 

“No, no, no.” He hurried over to Titus, only distantly aware of Cid following him, and looked over Nyx. 

“His breathing’s getting more laboured, and shallower. We need to get him to hospital.” 

“Astrals,” Cid whispered, and Cor turned to see him standing nearby, face gone ashen as he stared at Nyx’s chest. “I’ll get ya the keys for the fastest thing I got.” 

“Thanks,” Cor just barely managed to breathe out as Cid scurried off into the back of the garage. He was back just minutes later, shoving keys into Cor’s hand and leading them out into the lot to whatever car he’d picked. 

It took a few minutes of faffing to get Nyx and Titus into the back seat without jostling Nyx too badly, but eventually they were in, and Cor gave Cid a brief hug and promised to call as soon as Nyx was taken care of, and then he got in. 

Hammerhead wasn’t even out of sight when Titus suddenly leant over Nyx. “No, no, Nyx, come on, stay with me!” 

Cor swore and sank the accelerator to the floor. 

* * * 

Nyx was floating, warm and weightless. He felt weak, like a newborn coeurl cub, too faint and uncoordinated to move, but there was no pain. It was just him, blessedly numb, floating in the slowly lightening darkness, and he drifted off again. 

*

Voices broke through the haze. The words were calm, sometimes clipped, but not the taunting, gleeful type he was used to hearing from Tiny and Glasses. A sliver of tentative curiosity bloomed in his chest, urging him to cling to them, listen to them. One of the voices was achingly familiar, and Nyx wanted to call out to them. He was still too numb, though, too uncoordinated and his body wouldn’t respond.

“...on his chest and thigh look like some kind of electrical burn,” A cool, detached voice explained and drew Nyx’s fleeting attention, only for the other one to interrupt it.

"Cattle prod. They're from a cattle prod, then."

Nyx recoiled, the phantom sensation of electricity coursing under his skin all too real, and the voices faded away.

*

Someone was touching his hair. It felt safe and comfortable, but also familiar, the fingers nimbly handling strands of his hair into braids. He exhaled softly and leaned into the touch. 

The fingers paused then, and Nyx was tempted to whine.

“–x, sweetheart, are you with us?” 

A thumb brushed over his cheekbone, so gentle and soft, and he felt one of his hands be cradled. It made him want to cry, the grief and longing crashing into him and robbing him of air. He missed Cor, missed Titus. He wanted to be held by them, to be told everything was going to be okay, but he knew there was only a slim chance of him ever seeing them again. 

“Hey, you’re okay, you’re safe. There’s no reason for tears,” the same voice shushed him, the thumb wiping away a lone tear. Nyx hadn’t even realised he was crying. 

“Maybe I should call a nurse, he could be in pain,” another voice, just as familiar, said. 

“They adjusted his meds an hour ago,” the first voice murmured in response. 

“Well it might not be enough – or they could’ve fucked up. How many times do you think they’ve treated severe cases like this?” 

This time, Nyx did whine at the hissed words. “Ti –”

Someone gasped, and the hold on his hand tightened. “Nyx, love, can you open your eyes? Are you in pain?” 

“Cor,” Nyx mumbled, his thoughts too fleeting and detached to be coherent. He could feel the exhaustion wrapping around him like a heavy blanket, slowly dragging him back into the safety of the darkness. “Ti…” 

“We’re here,” someone, maybe Cor, choked out. “We’re here, love.” 

“Love,” Nyx echoed, and the darkness claimed him once more. 

*

The next time he surfaced, it was quiet. There were no voices, only a steady beeping Nyx found easy to ignore. Some distant part of his brain connected the dots – the lack of pain and the beeping – to hospital, but how could that be? He had no memory of escaping, and he most definitely hadn’t been in any shape to even attempt it. He shifted his feet as he was reminded of the cuts he had sustained on the first day of captivity, surprised to find he finally had some control of his own body. He frowned softly, his mind racing, a vague plan forming as his thoughts got themselves in order. 

He tried to open his eyes. 

It was a slow process and he nearly gave up once or twice, but then he was faced by a stark, albeit blurry, white ceiling. Definitely a hospital. Nyx breathed out softly, sinking deeper in his bed. He didn’t try to move, or even look elsewhere for the first minute as he waited for his vision to clear. Fortunately the lights were already dimmed, so they weren’t too harsh on his eyes. 

After the first minute he started to grow impatient, though. He could still feel the exhaustion deep in his bones and knew he would only be awake for a limited time, so he didn’t want to waste it. Turning his face towards the beeping – a heart monitor, he could tell from experience – he nearly flinched when he saw an armchair next to the machine, with Cor sleeping on it. He hadn’t expected to see anyone with how silent it was, but after the initial shock his heart filled with warmth. He tried to lift his hand to reach over to him, but his shoulder twinged with pain and his arm wouldn’t move. He looked down with a frown to see his arm secured to his front by a sling. 

Then one of the strikes landed on his shoulder. A scream tore itself from his throat, his vision darkening when he felt his shoulder pop and the left side of his body dropped an inch or so downwards. His breath hitched, the white-hot, burning pain spreading not only down his shoulder and arm, but also up the side of his neck.

Nyx shivered as the memory replayed in his mind. It had hurt so much. Tiny might not have meant for it to happen, but it hadn’t stopped him from using it against him afterwards, tugging and pulling and punching and pressing down on it in the torture sessions that followed.

“Nyx?” 

Nyx’s head snapped up, eyes wide as they met Cor’s concerned ones. He could feel his heart rate starting to quicken, and the monitor next to Cor’s chair confirmed it as the beeps grew closer and faster. 

“Hey, take a deep breath,” Cor shushed him gently, crossing the distance between them to sit on the edge of the bed. “You’re okay, you’re not there anymore.” 

“Cor–” Tears welled in Nyx’s eyes once more and his lips trembled. It really was Cor. He was right there in front of him, alive and well. He wanted to reach out to him, but for some reason he was frozen to the spot. 

Cor gave him a small, barely-there smile and brushed his tears away. “Are you in pain? I can go get the nurse if you’d like.” 

“No!” Nyx shook his head, his chest tightening with panic at the thought of Cor leaving him alone. “Please– stay. I’m okay.” 

“Then I’ll stay,” Cor promised him. “Can you take a few deep breaths for me? Your heart is beating pretty fast.” 

“I thought–” Nyx’s breath hitched and he closed his eyes, more tears spilling down his cheeks. 

“Deep breaths,” Cor reminded him gently. After a moment he continued, sounding almost hesitant. “Is it okay if I touch you?” 

Nyx didn’t open his eyes but nodded. “Yes. Please.” 

He felt Cor shift on the bed, and then his hand was lifted and brought to rest against Cor’s chest. 

“Breathe with me, okay?” Cor requested, and it made something in Nyx’s chest shatter to realise it was a request and not an order. “You can do it, just like we’ve done before.” 

Nyx swallowed thickly, his breath shuddering slightly, but he did his best to concentrate on Cor’s rising and falling chest. It nearly made him break down twice as hard. He still had a hard time wrapping his head around the fact that Cor was actually there, and that they weren’t in that base anymore. Slowly, though, he managed to get his heart rate down to normal levels. 

Cor never once let go of him. 

“Where– Where’s Ti?” Nyx asked quietly. He had kind of thought that if one of them was there, the other would be as well, but he was starting to realise that might not be the case. He had to remind himself that both Cor and Titus were some of the most important people in Lucis, both with equally important jobs, so it only made sense they couldn’t both be there at once. He didn’t even know how long he had been out, it could have been days, maybe even weeks. 

“He’ll be here soon,” Cor told him, lowering Nyx’s hand back down but not letting go. “He had to run quickly to the Citadel, but he’ll be back in a few hours, I promise.” 

“Okay.” Nyx sniffled and nodded, dejected. He knew it was stupid to be upset about it, but there was nothing he wanted as much as to have both of his boyfriends close and where he could see and cuddle them

“Hey, none of that, love,” Cor murmured, leaning down to kiss him on the forehead. “He’ll be here. And trust me, he wanted to be here – he threatened to deck the councillor that demanded his presence, but they wouldn’t take no for an answer.” 

“Can you–” Nyx trailed off. He was feeling childish, but he had literally thought he would see neither of them ever again. “Can you lie down next to me? Maybe hold me?” 

He wanted to turn his face away when the embarrassment hit him, but Cor gently took him by the chin to stop him. Nyx held still, waiting for him to decline, telling him it was too risky with his injuries or something – which would be fair but also crush him further. 

“I’d love to,” Cor told him, looking straight into his eyes, and smiled softly. “We just need to be careful so we don’t hurt you further, alright?” 

Nyx nodded, his shoulders sagging from relief. “Thank you.” 

Cor pressed a quick kiss to his temple before standing up. “Let’s see if we can get you moved closer to the side so there’ll be more room for me to fit in there.” 

Just the act of making more room for Cor by moving to the side – with Cor doing most of the work – was enough to drain what little energy Nyx had. Various dulled aches and pains surfaced as the result of the whole thing, but Nyx didn’t regret it one bit and was just barely able to keep his tears in check when he could finally lean his head on Cor’s shoulder, held close by him. 

“I love you,” he mumbled, his eyes falling shut on their own accord. He could hear Cor’s heartbeat, strong and steady, lulling him back to sleep. 

“I love you too, sweetheart.” 

* * *

It was a low murmur of voices that roused Nyx. He was comfortably warm and he could feel Cor’s chest moving with steady breaths under his head. A pleased hum left his lips, and he rubbed his head against Cor’s shoulder like a cat before slowly opening his eyes. The conversation faded then and Cor looked down at him with a smile. 

“Good morning, sleepyhead,” he murmured, brushing a strand of hair from Nyx’s face. “Sleep well?” 

Nyx nodded with another pleased noise, basking in the post-sleep grogginess, but found enough motivation to turn his head towards the other speaker – Titus. He smiled at him softly and extended his hand, the one that wasn’t immobile, in a wordless ask. 

“It’s good to see you awake,” Titus told him as he took Nyx’s hand in his. His hands were cold – or maybe Nyx’s were extra warm – but it didn’t matter with both of his loved ones right there. 

“I missed you,” Nyx mumbled, a hint of an embarrassed blush sneaking on his face. He shifted his head to look at Cor. “The both of you.” 

Cor’s expression crumbled minutely and he leaned down to leave a kiss on his temple. Nyx frowned softly. 

“We missed you too.” Titus gave Nyx’s hand a squeeze. “You gave us quite the scare.” 

“Was supposed to be simple recon.” Nyx closed his eyes with a sigh, wincing at the memories. “I didn’t expect to run into a trap.” 

“Clarus shouldn’t have sent you out there alone.” Cor shook his head and tightened his hold on Nyx like the protective mother hen that he was. The hint of fury in his voice didn’t go unnoticed by Nyx. 

He let out a sound akin to a whine. “It was a low-risk mission, there was no reason for any of us to think it would go so wrong. Besides, you should blame the council member that kept badgering Clarus about it if you insist on blaming someone. Or, like, the Niffs.” 

Nyx curled closer into Cor, tugging at Titus’ hand insistently until he abandoned his chair and came to perch on the side of the bed next to him. It was because of that that he remained oblivious to the tension-filled look that Cor and Titus shared over his head. 

“Or we’ll take a leaf from Pelna’s book and blame your abysmal luck.” Titus muttered, and Nyx huffed a small laugh. 

Then winced and keened again when it agitated his ribs. 

“Ow, don’t make me laugh.” He groaned, and squeezed Titus’ hand lightly. 

 “You know, you earned yourself a couple more months of sick leave with your little stunt.”

“Was no stunt,” Nyx pouted, turning his head to glare weakly at Titus. “Was following orders.” 

“Not mine,” Titus retorts, raising one eyebrow down at him.

Nyx shrugged with his good shoulder. He could feel himself starting to fade again. “You should bring that up with Clarus, then. You always tell me I should stop racking up reprimands, so insubordination was kinda out of the question.” 

“Oh, I see how it is. You have to follow orders from Clarus, but not mine.”

“Yes,” Nyx said firmly, grinning even as a yawn overtook him. 

Cor smirked down at him, and Titus cupped his cheek with one hand. “Rest, love. Everything else can wait.” 

“Love you two.” Nyx mumbled, his eyes drooping close despite his best efforts to stay awake. 

“We love you too.”