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Although he'd decided to build his home in some uninhabited island, about a thousand kilometers away from the nearest civilization, Saparata always had a hard time keeping people out.
This time was no different.
He knew that eventually he'd catch some curious eyes—merchants, nomads, migrants, the like— and true, when people washed up on his shores or asked for his aid, he's never been one to turn them down. When he was younger he made it a point to go to as many cities as he could, help as many people, foster as many friendships and learn as much as he was able. In turn, these people had gone out of their way to visit him when the time came for him to retreat to this lone island he now called home. He welcomed each and every visitor with welcome arms.
But never in his life did he think that would such people would include the world's greatest known leaders and diplomats.
When a second summit had been called, brought on by the death of Jophiel, the leader of one of the empire's greatest nations, Saparata tried his best to dissuade them from having him host it again. He still had sleepless nights from what had transpired during the first summit when he watched his dearest friend turn into someone he didn't even recognize and get spurned by who they thought were his allies. The look on Fluixon's face as one by one the leaders disregarded him was still burned into the back of Saparata's eyelids.
"Lunatic."
"Heartless."
"Selfish."
He didn't want to relive that experience ever again if he could help it.
And yet there he was, standing at the top of the hill that held up his home, watching as ships of varying sizes, of one great nation to the next, slowly encroached upon his shores and filled his ports.
The second summit was to be held at his residence hall, a building that he and a bunch of others had painstakingly built over the course of a year and a half. Completely deaf to his protests of wishing only for a simple home, the friends that he'd made from a nation Fluixon had helped establish, Luminara, constructed him a manor fit for a king. Naturally, Saparata threw a fit. Why were they completely turning a blind eye to his wishes of humble quarters? He spent countless days and nights arguing with the architects but, in hindsight as he watched esteemed men and women make their way past his doors, he realized that maybe he shouldn't have given them such a hard time after all.
But then again who could have predicted that there would come a day that he, Saparata, would welcome such leaders into his home?
That being said, to say he was dead tired from it all would be an understatement, and it felt like he was actually going to pass out right from where he stood. Throughout the past week alone he'd travelled to numerous islands and nations, informing its leaders of the upcoming summit, and just that morning he had finally arrived back home from the nation of Tricolor, travelling with their delegates. After days of futile negotiation he thought he would have to make the trip alone, as most of them were too paranoid about sailing so far out right after their leader had just gotten assassinated. Saparata wouldn't have held it against them if they did. But on the fourth day, just a day before the second summit, a few of Tricolor's high ranking officials finally yielded and thus, Saparata was able to travel back with a few representatives.
The people of the Commonwealth weren't too enthused about his invitation either. They'd just lost one of their five leaders, Wolfram, to another assassination. Every time Saparata thought of how he'd bended his back just trying to persuade both nations to send delegates had been truly hell on earth. But he'd done it. Fluixon had believed in him after all, and he couldn't let him down.
The noise that greeted him as he arrived home was not unwelcome, in fact he'd sort of missed that kind of hustle and bustle that reminded him of his own childhood back in the Coalition. But still, he'd be lying if he said it didn't overwhelm him.
After a year of solitude, with the exception of his friends visiting at times and helping him build his home, most of his life on the island was relatively quiet and peaceful. Most importantly, he was able to be at peace with only the rustling of the leaves and the birds in the trees for company. However the past few weeks, no, months have been nothing short of chaotic. From Jophiel's death, to Wolfram's, to the still ever so present threat of the other continent's inhabitants threatening to invade them, Saparata felt like he could barely catch a break. As much as he wanted to get it all over with and kick everyone out, the last thing he wanted to come off as was inhospitable, but he wished he could tune it out sometimes. Days upon days of mingling and smiling and pretending made it hard for him not to wish to go back to much simpler times—to those days he'd spent holed up in the dark mines with only his dearest friend for company as they cracked jokes and fantasized about the house they'd build with all the precious minerals they would earn.
It was long past sunset when Saparata finally got time for himself, until people settled into their quarters and ceased asking him for the hundredth time that evening whether the perimeter around the manor was truly secure. The last group that pestered him, an envoy from Aperion, had made him a tad bit angry with how ruthless they'd been. Saparata knew that after the trap scare from the first summit they just wanted to be sure, but he still felt affronted by the insinuation that he didn't have their absolute safety in mind. The uneasy glances he'd gotten all evening was starting to get on his nerves. The gall of these pompous brats to assume that his security was lacking when in fact, every time he turned his head he made sure that there was a guard posted on every corner. The representatives of each nation traveled with their own guards with them, as well. It was a bit silly of them to be so anxious when it seemed like his island was the safest anyone could ever be in at that exact moment.
He was already anxious enough as is. He didn't need a hundred more people echoing the same frightening thoughts he tried to keep buried.
His only solace was his confidence that, if indeed there was another assassination in the works, it would be pretty hard for the criminals to bring it to fruition on his island. After all, Saparata did watch his home get built from the ground up and he knew every crevice, every corner, like the back of his hand. The lead architect, his dearest friend Fluixon, had given him his word that the builders spared no expense in ensuring that his home was the sanctuary Saparata had always envisioned it to be.
When the dust settled and he felt like he could finally breath again he decided to head down to the foot of the hill to clear his head and get away from all the noise and the gatherings for once.
It had been only a few minutes of silent walking when he spotted, just a few meters past the the woods towards the sea, a distant movement in the darkness. A flash of violet so dark it almost blended into the shadows and had his heart leaping right out of his mouth in surprise.
"Flux?" He called out, his heart beating like a drum in his chest. "Flux, is that you?"
The figure halted and turned toward him. Saparata's mouth fell open in surprise as his own pale, grey eyes fell upon deep amethyst irises.
It was him.
Fluixon.
He began to run before his mind could think to move himself, the soles of his feet flying over the sand in haste.
"What're you doing out here so late?" Fluixon asked him when he got near enough to hear him over the crashing waves.
Saparata smiled at him, the load in his chest getting lighter with each step towards his closest friend's direction. "I could ask you the same thing," he replied. "I thought you already left a week ago. The envoy from the Commonwealth just got here yesterday, did you catch them? Some representatives from Tricolor arrived with me this afternoon, too... and the leadership from Luminara—" Saparata faltered, stumbling over his words as he caught himself, "Did you…?"
"Meet them? Haven't spoken to anyone at all, if that's what you're wondering." Fluixon shrugged, clicking his tongue. "As for Luminara... well, I haven't seen anyone from that damned group since a few weeks ago, not that anyone would've cared to see me anyway."
"What?" Saparata frowned. "But you're second in command—"
"Previous second in command." Fluixon interrupted, smiling wryly at him. "Trust me, they all believe they're better off without me."
Saparata's steps slowed as he finally reached his friend. In the darkness it was hard to distinguish the expression on Fluixon's face, but after knowing him for years Saparata would wager he knew exactly what it was that the other was feeling in that moment even if his very eyes were closed.
He didn't miss the furrow in Fluixon's brows as he spoke, neither the vacant blankness of his deep set eyes, the dark circles and tired lines that marred his striking features, the downturn of his lips. He looked like a stranger almost, a far cry from the boy he met years ago, the one who had cheeringly invited him to mine with him and his other friends. It was almost difficult to reconcile the withdrawn man standing before him with the boy he's only ever seen smiling and laughing in his direction.
He wondered briefly when he'd last seen him do that—to smile and laugh as if without a care in the world. It felt like eons ago. Saparata hasn't seen him as happy as that ever since rumors of the second continent's invasion started spreading from one island to the next.
"Why're you still here?" Saparata asked him instead. "I thought you didn't want to attend the meeting."
"Can't a friend say goodbye?" Fluixon threw him a smirk, a teasing smile that always sent an awful flush creeping from the tip of Saparata's nose all the way to the ends of his ears. "Thought I'd catch you before the big day tomorrow. Wish you luck and all."
"Oh." He rubbed at the back of his neck sheepishly, almost apologetic. "Sorry, I—I didn't know you were waiting. If I knew then I would've insisted that we took the first ship out but Tricolor wasn't..." Saparata paused. He didn't quite know how to begin, but surely Fluixon already knew about all the trouble brewing back in Tricolor's region. "Well, the newly appointed leader's had their hands full with the fallout. I had to stay a couple more days than I thought. It took a lot of convincing for anyone to come with me for the meeting, really."
Fluixon shrugged, kicking off the sand with his feet, his hands hidden underneath the sleeves of his cloak. "I figured that was the case," he said quietly, "Can't exactly blame them, can we? They just lost a good leader, after all, that Joph. It must've been a pretty hard blow."
"Yes," Saparata agreed. "And a truly heinous crime indeed. A true coward's act." He spat the last words out. He didn't even know he was capable of such anger, such vitriol, but after days of mulling it over he still couldn't piece together a motive and that was frustrating, to say the least.
How was he supposed to come up with a foolproof defense pact if he didn't even know what or who they were supposed to be defending themselves from?
Saparata put a comforting hand on top of Fluixon's shoulder. "Seraphim will pay for what he's done. I know the other leaders will make sure of it during the summit tomorrow."
Fluixon kept his silence then, not even sparing him a glance as he started to bend down and sit atop the sand.
Silence stretched between them as they settled on the beach, side by side, looking out at the shore illuminated only by the moonlight. Fluixon's arm was flush against his, a comfortable pressure to the right of him, and Saparata knew that if he moved just an inch more towards the other his cold hands would brush against Fluixon's warm fingers. He's never been shy to the other's touch, but as of late he didn't know why it seemed to take everything in him to be as still as possible. He wasn't afraid of his friend, unlike the rest of the continent, and he's never been uncomfortable in his presence either.
So why did his heart feel so heavy everytime they were together like this?
Conversation had always flowed easily between them, even during the toughest times when they were still starving young boys mining deep in the underground, but in that moment it was difficult to act as if everything was alright. They couldn't deny the sheer weight of the burden set upon them. They both knew that Jophiel's death was only the beginning. The beginning to what exactly—a war, a truce, an alliance against an unknown evil—Saparata was yet to know.
Fluixon was convinced that the true evil lay in the second continent. Savages, they'd been called. Saparata wanted nothing more than to support his dearest friend, to let him know that he wasn't alone in his beliefs.
But still, he couldn't help the ripples of doubt flowing from within him.
He didn't want to condemn what might as well be a thousand innocents before he even knew them, met them.
He just wanted to hear their truth.
"Are you scared?"
Fluixon's breath against his ear made him flinch. He turned to his friend who was staring at him with a calmness he could only wish he possessed.
"I'm not scared, Flux. I'm... terrified," Saparata confessed, ducking his head between his bent knees in shame. "The last person who asked me to call for a summit ended up dead and I can't help but think I've had a hand in it somehow. I just..." He took a shaky breath, turning his head to the side, watching as his friend continued to listen intently, "I wish I could've sensed it. Prevented it, even." He shook his head in disbelief, "If I never listened to Jophiel then maybe she would still be alive today. What if something goes horribly wrong tomorrow, Flux? What if more people wind up dead?"
He wrung his hands together, feeling pinpricks erupt as his nervousness took on a physical form and had him picking at the corners of his nails. The skin bled as it cracked with each drag of his sharp fingertips against the dry skin. "First it was Jophiel, and just recently Wolfram, and any moment it could be you. I would never be able to forgive myself if I somehow put you in danger by listening to your advice about calling for this summit—"
"Stop it." Fluixon grabbed his hands, shaking him to coherence. "We all know there was nothing you could've possibly done. All that nonsensical worrying's gonna cost you is your own damn fingers." He reached for the ends of his cloak and rubbed it on Saparata's bleeding fingertips. "For god's sake, Sap, the man who killed Joph was her own second in command. I'm willing to bet my head nobody even saw it coming."
Saparata swallowed heavily, realization dawning on his face.
"It must've been why everybody was so distraught, huh? I figured there were tensions brewing between the two already, you know, long before that attack… but when I got there everybody was just as shocked as I was." With his hands restrained, Saparata gnawed on his bottom lip instead. "Could you ever imagine it, Flux? Being betrayed by the one you thought you could trust the most?"
The air was thin and brittle between the two of them as the weight of his question drifted past the farthest reaches of their minds. Fluixon didn't answer him immediately. Instead, he released Saparata's hand in favor of brushing his fingertips over the other's cheek, his touch almost searing against his worried, bleeding lips, feeling it quiver under the pads of his thumb.
"I can't even wrap my head around it, Sap. But, I know I'd never have to," Fluixon said. His voice was low, almost like a whisper. "And you know I'd never betray you."
Saparata's breath hitched.
Flashes of blood, the tip of a sharp blade, Fluixon dying at the edge of his after a long, drawn out fight—glimpses of a nightmare he'd only ever seen in his dreams suddenly drowning him in his waking life.
After all the senseless killing, some under the hands of one of the most trusted generals of the continent, distrust lingered all throughout the continent. It caught on and hung in the air like a plague, sowing doubt into the hearts of even the most loyal constituents. Saparata would have been lying if he said he wasn't affected by it all, that the thought hadn't occurred to him as well, that one day he might be met with his own death at the hands of his most trusted people.
But in that moment it wasn't his own demise that had filled his head. He realized with a horrible drop in his stomach that it wasn't the betrayal he feared... nor the abandonment.
But the very death of his own dearest, closest friend. The one sitting next to him now, as calm as the sea that rocked along the shores of his island, as still as the mountains that he called home.
His safe place.
He clutched at the sleeves of Fluixon's dark cloak, his grip as tight as it could be once his hand landed on the Fluixon's wrist, surprisingly drenched in sweat even though Saparata felt like the wind was cold enough to seep into his bones. His words died before it could reach the end of his throat, the fear overtaking him.
Wouldn't Fluixon be more at risk than he was? He was the second in command to one of the biggest nations in the continent after all, albeit only recently as he'd been removed from post. Still, his contributions to the nation meant that his presence warranted a degree of recognition.
Which meant that the price for his head would be far bigger.
And his death imminent.
Fluixon's hand trailed up the side of Saparata's face, his touch ever so gentle as it settled over the corner of his brow. The disgraced right-hand man's smile was teasing, a welcome distraction to the sudden dread that lodged itself into his brain.
Fluixon chuckled at his troubled face. "Still afraid you'll cause a war somehow?"
The question caught Saparata off guard, his jaw slackening at the absurdity of the claim, and he couldn't help the twist in his face as he threw Fluixon a wilting glare.
"C'mon." Fluixon elbowed him gently as he leaned away, settling his back on the dunes. Saparata was loathe to admit he already missed his warmth. "You're too much of an idiot to cause one, even by accident."
"You sure have a way with words, huh? Always knowing what to say to comfort me. " Saparata scoffed, following him down on the sands, his head resting on Fluixon's shoulder as they gazed up above cloudless skies. "You do realize that this very idiot is holding council to the world's greatest leaders tomorrow, right? In case you've forgotten."
"As if I would," Fluixon whispered against the crown of his head. "There's a reason why I advised you to host this meeting, Sap. You might've shielded yourself away from the rest of the world, but even the powers that be knew you were always destined for greatness. This council is proof of that. They wouldn't have listened to anyone else but you. I know it'll end well. I swear by it."
Saparata sighed. "Well… if you say so," he weakly said. He shivered as a gust of wind blew in their direction, the lateness of the night making itself known. He should go now if he still wanted to get a few winks before the summit. He looked up at Fluixon, "Are you sure you don't want to come to the meeting after all?"
Fluixon's nose crinkled, almost amused at the offer. It wasn't the first time he'd been asked that question. "I've pretty much pissed each and every single citizen for that stunt I pulled during the last one, not to mention the fact that Jophiel had singled me out after getting worked up over my insinuation that the islanders were 'savages'." He scoffed, a cruel twist in his mouth as he recalled the heated exchange. "Not that I ever called them that, mind you. She was basically putting words in my mouth. I have no idea what it was that pissed her off so much when all the signs were there. There was literally propaganda washing up on Luminara's shores. Even the Coalition received some of them." Fluixon rolled his eyes. "You know, if she hadn't been stabbed in the back then the stress from that summit would've made her keel over instead. I wouldn't be surprised if the others assumed I had a hand in her assassination after that."
Saparata shot up on his elbows, the sudden movement causing the sand between them to disperse and land on Fluixon's face. The Luminarian sputtered, annoyance already rising up his face until he gazed at his friend's face and schooled his expression back into a blank slate.
"Shut up." Saparata seethed. "Never say that again."
His teeth ached as he clenched his jaw, hands tightening into fists.
"Sap." Fluixon brushed his hand along his shoulder, trying to pacify him. "You know I was just joking—"
"I can tell when you're lying, Flux!" Saparata bellowed. "I know there are many things you'd rather I not know, because you're afraid what I might think of you, or because you don't want me to get worried, but I..." he trailed off, his voice shaky as it dipped into a whisper, "I can't just sit here and listen to you talk about yourself that way. You're so much better than that, Flux. Can't you see it?"
Fluixon didn't look convinced.
"You shouldn't speak as if your dismissal has been set in stone. Your demotion isn't for long," Saparata continued confidently. "Sooner or later Zero's going to remember all that you've done for Luminara and reinstate you. You might be unpredictable, yes, and sure, maybe even I was a bit taken aback by the things you said during that meeting but I—I believe you've always only had the best interests of our people in mind. You always cared so much about this world that... that I just can't fathom how anyone could ever think that you'd be capable of doing something that could sow so much discord between all of us."
Fluixon gave him a weak, pensive smile. "It truly flatters me that you think so highly of me still, Sap. I'm nobody at this point. I've shown all my cards. I've got nothing left to show that could turn the tides in my favor—"
"Not to me." Saparata insisted. "There's still so much more to you, things you've only ever shown me, things you could still share with the rest of the world. Flux, let's be real, okay? This... this greatness that you speak of... it isn't for me. But you, on the other hand, you were second in command to one of this continent's greatest nations. It was your charisma, your drive, your own blood and sweat and tears that got you there. Imagine how much more you could do if you don't give up, if you just work together with everyone else. Flux, please, join the meeting," Saparata pleaded with him once more. "I will stand with you every step of the way. You just have to show them you still care. You still do, don't you?"
"You know I do," Fluixon said, almost reverent. "More than you could ever imagine."
Hope bubbled up in his chest, but it was gone just as quickly as it had appeared as he watched Fluixon move his head with a definitive shake, a finality to his actions that even Saparata knew he must yield to.
There was no changing Fluixon's mind now, not ever.
"Well... as tempting as your offer is, I think it's best I stay out of everybody's hair 'till this all blows over." Fluixon said as he stood up. "Besides, knowing what went down in the last one, I think I already know the outcome."
"Then, won't you just stay?" Saparata asked weakly. "Stay and talk to me when this is all over. I have a spare guest room. It's along the west wing, far from everybody else. They won't even know you're here."
"Of course I know that. I built that section." Fluixon grinned as he playfully tugged him up by the collar. "Come on, up you go. It's getting late and you've got a big day tomorrow, don't you? As for me, I might as well catch the last ship out while I still can."
He watched as Fluixon dusted the remainder of the sand off his cloak, stretching languidly. Saparata took the hand that was offered to him and let himself be yanked up, to be held with a firm, yet gentle grip to his waist as he steadied himself.
"I mean, you're already here and the summit's ending tomorrow anyway," Saparata grumbled. "What's one more day?"
"Why do you keep insisting I stay? I thought you hated company," Fluixon mused. "Isn't that why you built a home so far away from everyone else?"
Saparata couldn't help staring at him as he spoke, the deep violet of Fluixon's eyes so dark he felt like he could almost drown in them. Fluixon's eyes caught his own and briefly Saparata wondered what it was that the other saw in his pale, grey eyes that were always so devoid of color, much like the rest of him.
He wondered if Fluixon found it just as breathtaking.
They were as opposite as night and day itself, and yet like nightfall chased after sunrise, they couldn't help but feel constantly drawn to one another's presence.
Saparata cast his gaze to the side, unable to meet Fluixon's eyes when he said: "I don't mind it if it's you."
Surprisingly, it didn't embarrass him as much to admit it.
It was simply the truth.
Fluixon didn't say more, choosing instead to brush the remaining sand away from Saparata's fair hair. They both watched as the wind carried it like falling stars upon the night sky.
He watched his friend walk away from him, his back growing distant the further the minutes ticked on. Saparata couldn't help raising his voice as he yelled, uncaring of how it might bring attention to their rendezvous, hoping that the wind could carry his sincerity as it blew past him.
"Flux!" His voice was hurried, a certain panic laced in his tone as he watched his friend grow ever so distant. "When can I see you again?"
"Just call for me whenever and I'll be there!" Fluixon shouted back, turning and flashing him a genuine smile. Saparata's heart squeezed painfully at the sight of it. "You know I can never say no when it comes to you."
And Saparata knew, for all the lies embedded in Fluixon's words that night, at least that one was true.