Work Text:
🙥🙧
It was as he faded, as relief mixed with resignation, that the familiar, bellowing tone of the Dark Rider once again filled whatever remained of his mind. “Thine friend’s intention was ever clear to me. Their insistence, amusing. Do not claim I am not fair in the boons I give,” it rang, vibrating throughout Luzaf’s head.
He would claim no such thing, of course — he had seen every battle the Mercenary had fought with the Deity, unsure whether they were real or merely dreams. Whether it was one fight he remembered again and again, as a dream, or whether all of them did happen. Never knowing they had been battles fought in his name. Even now, he could not fathom their actions, nor that Odin found himself convinced and rescinded his soul. Aphmau had chosen well.
If anything, Luzaf had been the one attempting to break their agreement.
He closed his eyes, leaving the blurry sight of the Mercenary behind, and welcomed the freedom of oblivion.
Yet moments passed, and he could still feel. Think. Within another moment, warm air brushed his cheeks, so very different to the moist chill of the deep caves of the Testing Grounds. Smell— he smelled incense, warm and welcoming. Heard the clack as the heels of his boots met smooth and polished stone floors. Too loud, too clear. As was the Dark Rider’s voice in his mind.
”One minute for each time They bested my Shadow. Thirteen times They kept me entertained. Thirteen minutes thou shalt have.”
Thirteen minutes… of… what, he wondered, Odin’s presence overwhelming in his mind, increasing, making his head feel like it would burst. Then suddenly, it all disappeared, leaving him empty. Like a chain ripped from within his chest leaving him raw, open and… free. For thirteen minutes. What for, he asked silently, the thought interrupted by a loud gasp somewhere in front of him.
His eyes flew open then, though he knew what he would see before he did. Her eyes were wide, and her golden hair glowed in the moonlight shining in through the window.
”Luzaf,” she called out, and then slipped off the ledge, rushing across the room towards him. ”They did it! You’re free— you’re back…!”
The cruelty of the situation hit him then, just as her arms encircled his neck and she pressed so tight against him, soft and warm — so filled with life and determination. The false hope, the way it would rip open wounds that may already be healing. Odin was giving him another moment with her, another chance to say goodbye, or even just to see how she is faring now… but then he would fade, this time for real. He would return to the depths he came from, his soul free and ready to leave this world. This time, with fewer regrets, less anger.
But Aphmau would stay, and she would see him disappear again. The hope and joy clear on her face would be wiped off and replaced with disappointment at best in a few mere moments. He could still see her brave face in his mind, the resolution written clear on it, crumbling into pain when Odin claimed his soul in exchange for hers. She didn’t need this, and for him, what did it truly matter? He would be gone within minutes. For real, this time.
Conflicting emotions swirled within him, and he could not stop the desperate sob that welled up as he wrapped his arms around her small back. Her fingers threaded through his hair, face pressed into his ruffled lapels. No matter how much he wanted this, it felt more like a punishment than a gift.
”It’s alright. You’re here now. They did it. I knew they would!”
Statements that were true, yet so wrong. Thirteen minutes.
“Aphmau…” he started, voice rough and dry from disuse. But what words could he find, what words could he use to explain? Could he not tell her? Simply live these remaining twelve, eleven minutes to the fullest? See her only filled with joy and hope? All that she had become for him, all that she had made him feel. All that she would provide the world, his people, their people…
No, that too would be cruel. A false illusion, that would shatter in the end. And it would risk the last time he ever looked at her to be tainted by shock, fear, sorrow… maybe even betrayal. He couldn’t do that to her.
He swallowed the lump in his throat and slid his hands up to her shoulders, pulling her back just enough that she would look up at him. His face must have betrayed his thoughts and emotions, as her smile faltered when her eyes met his.
“They did succeed. I am free.” Her brows furrowed then, a confused frown settling over her face. Again, a small seed of temptation to lie, to hide the truth, sprouted within his chest. He crushed it swiftly, grinding it into the dark dirt inside him and found the words to continue. “This… is but a brief chance to…”
“To say goodbye,” she cut him off, finishing the sentence for him.
He squeezed his eyes shut, sighed and then nodded.
“Aye.”
Warm palms cupped his face then, a thumb stroking across his cheek.
”Luzaf,” she called again, and he slowly opened his eyes. Her face was much closer now, standing on her tip-toes to reach and all Luzaf could see was her soft smile despite the tears gleaming in her bright eyes. ”You’re free. That’s what matters.”
Tension bled out of his shoulders then, dripping down his spine to pool at the polished stone floor beneath them. He slumped forward, almost stumbling, and her hands caught his shoulders. Catching him, just like the last time he fell to his knees over her. But this time he had a few more minutes left before fading. And he would cherish every single one. With another soft sigh, he straightened up, placing his own hand over hers on his chest, and squeezing.
“I am,” he whispered, and she nodded, one single tear that she could not will away spilling down her cheek. He wondered then, if he too would be crying if he remembered how to.
Silence fell between them for a moment, and he could not pull his eyes away from her. He wished to commit every ilm of what he could see to his memory, as if it would still remain after his time ran out. As if he would still be able to recall it, and think of her.
As if he would not simply fade into nothingness, finally returning to the energies coursing through the land. Free. And most of all — at peace.
Her hand turned under his and twined their fingers together. “Come,” she said, and stepped backwards, pulling him along. He followed as if it was an order to be obeyed, though her voice was nothing but soft and… hopeful.
She led him across the open room, past warmly glowing lamps and thick draperies, to a divan bathed in moonlight. Through the open window he could glimpse a star-covered sky above the walls of Whitegate. Not long ago the sight would have caused rage to bloom inside him, but now he found he could appreciate its beauty. Not a terrible choice for the last scenery he would ever see.
He felt a tug on his hand, and pulled his eyes away from the outside, back to what mattered the most then: Aphmau. She turned around and sat down, patting the plush fabric next to her. Once again, he followed as if an order. It may as well have been — his kingdom, his people, were hers. And so was he. As a prince, and as simply a man.
She scooted closer, and he could not help but notice how their positions matched the night on the Black Coffin. Her vigil at his bedside, the way she’d leaned in close despite the truth being revealed. The way her puppet’s hand had rested on his thigh in her stead.
Suddenly he became fully aware of their absence in the room.
“Your automaton companions… Could they be saved?” He asked, an urgent need to know she had not been left lonely.
“Ovjang and Mnejing? Yes! They were reassembled, even became independent. I’m very grateful. They’re just sneaking around outside, waiting for updates from the Mercenary I assume, likely convinced I have no idea of their schemes. ”
“Their schemes?”
“To save you.”
Luzaf swallowed thickly, and then reached for her hand, taking it in his own and squeezing it.
“Please, tell them — and your Mercenary — for me… that I am grateful.”
“I will.”
Her hand was so very warm in his, and he felt the warmth seep into himself, as if he was absorbing it, sucking it out of her. Though she seemed to have no shortage, and he held on tight, eyes locked to their clasped hands on his thigh.
“Luzaf,” she started again, and he turned his gaze back to her face. “I must tell you. I want you to know. We… We have a long way to go, but I am working on it. I will keep my promise. I will find a way for your people to… be who they are.”
Determination shone bright on her face, her mouth set in a tight line, almost as if she was holding in so many things she’d like to say. Plans, ideas, perhaps, steps taken, steps still in the future. But time was short, and truly, none of the specifics mattered to Luzaf.
“I never doubted that,” he said, and meant it with his whole being. How she could change his entire worldview so swiftly, he still did not fully understand, but somehow she had. Her, and the reality around him; The people, the places, the way everything had changed, and yet nothing had. The way how within all those shadows, she shone like a bright beacon of hope. Sheltered, even naive, yet so fully ready to act, and with the moral backbone to cover for generations before her.
And with the clearest blue eyes, and the gentlest touch.
“I have not been what they need in a long time… They are your people. And… so am I, your Magnificence.”
A brief look of surprise spread across her face, followed by a mix of emotions that looked nothing but bittersweet. Brows furrowed, she pressed her face into his arm, fingers squeezing his so tight. She stayed there for a moment, and he could hear her long, deep breaths. Wished he could feel them through the thick fabric of his jacket.
When she pulled back, all of that was gone. Instead her eyes were gleaming and the smile pulling at her lips could only be described as mischievous.
“Well then, as our subject, you would follow our orders?”
He let out a huff, amused at the contrast between her eager face and her tone. “Of course. Anything Your Magnificence requires.”
Her smile widened, and then she shifted onto her knees next to him. His breath caught in his throat as she lifted one across his legs and straddled his lap, burning hot hands cupping his jaw.
“Then kiss me.”
He let out a shuddered breath, and leaned his head closer into her palm. No matter that he too longed to feel her lips on his, he could not help but wonder what good would come from a kiss from a dead man? There would be no more, no future, no promises to keep.
Mayhap there was no reason to question — he was not the one who would live on with the memory of things that never could have been. Within minutes, he would be gone. But mayhap, he could linger just a little longer, as taste on her lips.
She had made her choice, and he would never choose differently.
He caught her gaze, still filled with burning determination, and leaned in closer. He hardly made it halfway, before she met him there herself; soft, warm lips pushing against his. He could not help the sigh that escaped him then, low and filled with need. It only made her push closer, fingers tangling in his hair and gripping tight, as if to make sure he could not leave. He never would, not if he had a choice. She tasted sweet with a hint of spice, and her lips fit perfectly between his.
Needing to hold her close, to touch, he finally slid his hands over the layers of silk wrapped around her hips until he found the bare skin at her waist. She was hot to the touch, burning hot, and immediately gasped at his touch, pulling away from the kiss. He let go as though she truly had burned her.
He opened his mouth to apologise, but she shook her head furiously, and then leaned her forehead against his.
”No, please, the cold surprised me, that’s all. Please… touch me again.”
He held her gaze and slowly lowered his hands back onto her skin, and this time she shivered, but leaned into it. It pulled a small chuckle out of her, and truly, she was beautiful. His hands felt large, massive even, on her small waist, but also like they could have belonged. As one hand slid up her back, fingers stroking along the hem of her short vest and back down her spine, her fingers pressed into the back of his head. They were so close, pressed together, and he could feel her warm breath on his face. He dared not think of where it would all lead, had he but a little longer.
Then, without another word, she kissed him again, softly, gently — yet with a clear desperation. Her lips moved as if she wanted to feel every part of them, commit them to memory. He held on to her, feeling as though his hands could not, would not, hold on tightly enough, and kissed her back.
They stayed that way for a moment, exchanging kiss after kiss, and Luzaf let himself melt into it, let nothing but her warm touch fill his mind. Before long, he tasted salt. He pulled back, just enough to see Aphmau’s face. She chased him, shaking her head, as if telling him not to move despite the tears running down her face. He lifted one hand, frowning at the effort it took, and wiped one away with his thumb.
“I didn’t want to cry, not until…”
She shook her head again, and then rested it on his shoulder, lips pressing close to his throat. They were burning hot, and yet felt strangely far away.
“But you’re… You’re growing cold.”
Her words ended with a muffled sob, and suddenly Luzaf became aware of how little he could feel. His feet were numb, and though she was sitting with her whole weight on him he could hardly feel it. She was light, of course, but not light enough for that. He let go of her, to spread his fingers out and then curl them back into a fist. It felt slow, stiff, like his body was fighting the movement. Another tear rolled down her cheek, though he was not able to catch it in time before it rolled off her jaw, and landed on his chest, creating a tiny, wet stain on the purple fabric.
“I guess… my time is running out.”
She nodded quietly, and reached up to wipe the tears from her eyes herself.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered, not entirely sure what he was apologising for. For dying? For coming back from the dead? For coming here and causing her this pain? None were things he ever had a choice in. But he was here, with her in his arms. He could not bring himself to regret anything that brought him here.
He saw more than felt her grabbing his hand and squeezing it. The numbness seemed to be spreading fast now, every second ticking away. At least he could still feel her breath against his neck, the warm puffs tickling his skin. He clung to that, and squeezed her hand back as best he could.
A blurriness started to spread in his field of vision, and he blinked it away. He did not want to miss a second of what he had been granted.
After another moment, Aphmau straightened up, and grabbed hold of his shoulders.
”You best lie down,” she said, pulling. It felt gentle, though it did not look so. He was large and heavy compared to a small hume girl, even when in control of his own limbs. She pushed herself backwards on the divan, behind him where he could not see. ”Come here,” she mumbled softly then, hands returning to his shoulders.
It took far more effort than such a simple movement should take, but he followed her lead as best he could, and soon he could rest his head on her lap. Even through the layers of fabric she was as hot as a dark stone baked by the sun for hours. As her arms encircled him, he basked in all that he could still feel, all that his mind would still process. He blinked through the haze again, and looked up at her tear-stained face. Not long remained.
This was different than the previous time he had faded. It was more… physical. Mayhap Odin was granting him a true death.
With all the strength that he could muster, he lifted one hand up to her face. He could see her nuzzle it with her cheek, though he felt naught but a vague warmth.
”Aphmau…” he started, then paused at how weak his voice had become. Weak, and raspy, as if he had not spoken for years, despite his last words being hardly a minute ago. Did he even have another minute left? ”I’m grateful… that I got to meet you.”
”Luzaf,” she whispered above him. She sounded far away, despite the way she was crouched over him, as if wishing to be as close as possible. His world was fading quicker now, and he forced his eyes to stay open, to see her for as long as he could.
Her face was closer now, and her arms tighter around his shoulders. He could smell her, sweet and warming, and he breathed in deeply.
”I’m sorry… that I can’t stay,” he managed, voice weak. His eyes fell closed, and they felt far too heavy as he opened them again.
”I’ll be alright,” she said, voice clear and strong despite how distant it felt. ”You can leave everything to me.”
He felt the warmth of her fingers stroking his hair to the side, thumb resting on his cheek.
”Rest well, my Prince,” she said softly, a smile on her tear-streaked face. He gave her a smile back — small and strained, but with his whole heart in it.
”I shall… my Empress…” he whispered, as his eyes fell closed and the world faded out entirely. The last thing he felt was her arms holding him tightly.
And there, in the room he left behind, she called out his name, once, twice, but there was no response. Then she let out the sobs she had held inside and buried her face in his chest.
Perhaps the universe shared her pain, as it gave her that moment to mourn. A moment, and then all that remained of him finally scattered into sparkling dust, floating away into the world around her, leaving her all alone.
On her lap, only his golden hair ornament remained. She held it close to her chest, and whispered his name one more time.
Outside her window, the first signs of sunrise could be seen at the horizon, slowly painting the sky purple.
🙤🙦