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It's close to midnight when Zelkov returns from his scouting mission. As usual, he wound up doing more than just scouting; the closer they get to Elusia Castle the more Corrupted pop up. By this point it's a miracle there are any humans left in the whole Kingdom.
Corrin's ring disappears from his finger; Emblem Corrin asks if he'd like her to stick around and he shakes his head. He's not in the mood for company, even that of an Emblem. So she floats away, and he mentally goes through his always-growing list of projects: the alpaca-wool socks he started knitting yesterday, the stone statue he's been chiseling away at little by little every day, the headache tonics he makes for Princess Ivy and anyone else who might need them, the list of people Citrinne set him up to help.
The problem is, none of those things particularly appeal to him at the moment. Aside from the typical battle exhaustion, he feels...unfocused.
"Perhaps sleeping might be a better way to spend the night?" Zelkov tenses; by now he's used to Louis's tendency to approach him without warning, and of course when Zelkov turns to look at him he's carrying his usual tea tray.
As if I needed another reminder of those days.
"Do you simply stay up till all hours of the night waiting for me?" As if he needed that answered. Louis smiles, setting the tray on the table.
"Perhaps." He's still in his casual clothes, and Zelkov has yet to change out of his battlefield garb. "Or perhaps I simply needed a cup of tea myself. These past few battles have been on the stressful side, and sleep eludes me more often than one might think," he says.
"Now that I have difficulty imagining." Zelkov feels the corners of his mouth momentarily twitch upwards. "Yet you still made extra, as if you knew when I'd return."
"Not necessarily, but it couldn't hurt. And it's still warm, so by all means, sit down and help yourself!"
To this day he can't exactly define their relationship; Louis insisted Zelkov wished to be cared for and kept a supply of that specific tea on hand at all times, while Zelkov had simply given in because the tea was helping him sleep and at times, Louis wasn't the worst company one could ask for.
So he takes his place at the table, pours a cup of tea for himself, and sips slowly. The flavor, the aroma, the light of the waning moon filtering through the roof of the Somniel soothe him only for a moment before the nostalgia kicks in, and tonight it stings more than ever.
Louis watches him, as if somehow he knows, and it's rather unsettling. Granted, he did divulge that part of his past not long ago, but it's only served to make Louis double down on his efforts.
The fact that Zelkov isn't as bothered by this as he would have been long ago worries him.
"The battle took place in the town where I was raised," he finally says. The swirls of miasma where fresh air and starlight had once peeked through the trees, those trees barren stalks of rotting wood, the manse where he grew up a dilapidated old ruin, the forests where he used to pick herbs with his mother, the thickets where he and his brother would pick fruit during the summer months, the people.
Louis sets his cup down, his eyes half-open and filled with sympathy.
"I can't even begin to imagine how that must have felt."
"It was...difficult." Zelkov stares into his half-empty cup, then back into those eyes. "Not so much that I couldn't focus, of course, but...the feelings were most unwelcome." More than once, he'd nearly wondered if among those Corrupted were the skeletons of his loved ones, given new flesh by twisted means, and he'd had to cut that line of thought at the knees before he did falter.
"If you'd like to talk about it-"
"What is to say?" The words come more sharply than he intends, but Louis doesn't even bat an eyelash. "That place...it hasn't been home to me for some time now." Maybe he'd considered going back once or twice, but would anyone recognize him? Would he want them to?
It's been ten years since he last set foot in that house, after he finally avenged his family. It was the first and only time he spoke to their graves, to give them news they couldn't hear. After that, he stole quietly away, picking up various pursuits to fill his life until he found his way into the position of royal retainer.
He's never even told Princess Ivy or Kagetsu his story.
He glances at Louis again, expecting some sort of prompting, further questions, but he stays silent. Zelkov takes another long sip of his tea before staring up at the sky. Even before that day he'd always found the night comforting. The stars, the moon, the sound of crickets and David's snoring, the scent of night-blooming flowers.
Most bandits wait till nightfall, but Zelkov came home from running an errand for his mother one sunny day to find her, Father, and David dead. He was barely seven, by the time he'd found someone to help him bury them it was dusk and he was too numb even to cry.
Nighttime is preferrable, soothing, but at the same time unbearably lonely. He'd used to count stars with David. Now, he works his fingers to the bone until he has no choice but to succumb to exhaustion.
"I lost my mother when I was a child," Louis says, breaking the silence, and Zelkov's head snaps up.
"Oh." He swallows. "My deepest condolences."
"It was illness," Louis continues, "and afterwards my father had to work twice as hard to provide for us. That's why I spent so much time caring for my brothers."
"I see." Zelkov meets his closed eyes. "So you can, in a way, imagine the sense of loss I feel."
"Perhaps." Louis's eyes open again, just slightly. "Granted, the circumstances were different, but-"
"A loss is a loss."
Silence comes again, Louis sipping his tea, Zelkov studying him carefully.
He's never taken the time to look at Louis. Oh, he's familiar with his jovial smile, his relaxed cheerfulness, his carefully intent gaze as he observes the people around him. But tonight he sees tired, sympathetic eyes and a wistful expression. Dark brown hair mussed from lack of sleep, hands moments away from trembling, the slump of his shoulders.
Louis doesn't exactly go out of his way to hide his vulnerability like some, but he doesn't go out of his way to let others see it, either.
"What was your mother like? If you don't mind my asking." Louis blinks, hand poised on the handle of the teapot, and his face brightens.
"I don't mind at all."
"And...in return, someday, I'll tell you more about my family," Zelkov says.
"I look forward to it." Louis pours them each another cup of tea. "My mother was a gentle sort, but not exactly attuned to the little details. Always looking at the forest rather than each individual tree," he begins. His face softens, his words are warm and wistful, and the warmth slowly seeps into Zelkov as he listens.
A sliver of moonlight peeks through the Somniel's ceiling, highlighting Louis's face as he speaks, and Zelkov feels a smile tug at the corners of his mouth.
The tea is lovely. But tonight, it pales in comparison to the company.