Archive of Our Own ^beta

"You are the gods' greatest blessing, Lon'qu. I am truly, deeply happy."

"N-not in so loud a voice! ... Though, I love you too."

Lon'qu reply fell from his mouth, almost complimenting his reddened cheeks, uncertain why his his lover had turned around to say this in the middle of a training exercise of clearing away Risen.

"Whyever should I not?" Libra questioned curiously. Perhaps a bit teasingly, "There's hardly anyone around to hear it."

"... the Risen might," Lon'qu mumbled, fully aware of what a pathetic answer that was. The Risen wore the faces of the living, but were barely capable of independent thought. And, with two well-armed Shepherds in their immediate vicinity, there was little likelihood they would remain undead long enough to have a chance to gossip among themselves about Lon'qu's personal life.

(Were Risen capable of gossip? Certainly, the Shepherds were.)

"The Risen?" and the corners of Libra's eyes crinkled, reminded once more of just how much he adored this man, how ridiculous he could be. "I don't particularly mind if they happen to overhear how much I care for you. To have you by my side, in life and in battle..."

"E-enough," Lon'qu sputtered, trying to aim an arrow at an approaching foe. He missed, "You're distracting me."

Libra smothered a laugh in his diaphanous sleeve, even as he cast a vicious Elwind to rend away the Risen advance, "I suppose it would be wise to refrain from endearments until after the battle?"

"I... yes," Lon'qu told himself he was flushed merely from the exertion of having to practice drawing back tightly-wound bowstrings, bereft of his swords until Robin deemed he'd made enough improvement.

And not because Libra smiled at him, shimmers in the sun seeming to cling to his skin, to his hair, like a halo of sparkles. And certainly not because, for how wonderful he looked in that moment, he'd still called Lon'qu a blessing of the gods.

Though, Lon'qu thought, even as he shoved Libra out of the way of an attack, I love him too.

He drew back his bowstring and finished off the enemy that had dared to attack his lover, heartbeat pulsing like the recoil of his weapon.

"I love you, Libra... don't make me say it twice."

"I love you, too. You are as much a part of my life as Naga herself."

"I, uh," Lon'qu began in reply, his fingers freezing in Libra's hair, what little braiding he'd managed falling loose.

"Hm?" Libra glanced up at him sleepily, from where he reclined against Lon'qu's chest. "Did I say something odd?"

"Um," Lon'qu hesitated, trying to collect his words for a second. "No."

And, surely, it couldn't be too strange-- at least, no stranger than their current situation. As the Shepherds crossed the land, training for their inevitable encounter with the Grimleal cult, they'd apparently stumbled upon what Chrom had called "ideal napping grounds." Lady Lissa had hardly agreed with him before he'd issued the order that all Shepherds were to spend the afternoon lounging about on the thick, carpeted grass, no exceptions, in order to learn what constituted an "ideal nap."

The middle of a war was far from the ideal time to plop down in the grass and leave Ylisse's most elite fighters in a vulnerable position, but Lon'qu could hardly complain, not when Robin had talked their leader into at least setting up an hourly patrol, and Libra looked so wonderful half-asleep in the warmth of the sun, curled up against Lon'qu's frame as he dozed.

Libra nestled back into his position, "If I... do say something that strikes you as odd, though... you'll tell me, right?"

"Right," Lon'qu breathed, exhaling and placing more of his weight against the tree at his back. He paused for a second, choosing his words carefully, "I was... jealous. For just a moment. It was irrational. It won't happen again."

"Mmmm?" Libra yawned, turning partway in his hold to look at Lon'qu's eyes properly. "I mean only to say... that I feel your presence in the world around me, as surely as I feel Lady Naga's. That something about it... feels just as essential. Mh... my apologies, I can't seem to find the right words. I'm afraid I still haven't quite managed to convey..."

"It's fine. I understand fine," answered Lon'qu, urging with his fingertips for Libra to come lay against him again. And, though he wasn't entirely sure it was necessary to add, "I'm not jealous."

"Nh... all right," and Libra's face fell back to Lon'qu's neck, his breath ghosting across the skin there. "If you're sure."

It wasn't Naga, Lon'qu thought, in whose arms Libra rested right now. For all the power Libra attributed to her, it wasn't Naga whose hands were the only ones Libra did not fear. Lon'qu lifted his fingers back to the scar on Libra's neck for a moment, barely brushing past it as he gently combed through his hair again. He relished that Libra did not flinch.

I love you, he almost repeated, but when he opened his mouth he only managed to say, "I'm sure."

"My love, you look quite fetching, as usual. I must take care to focus during battle."

"I... what? Nnngh... flattery will get you nowhere!"

Libra chuckled at Lon'qu's flustered expression as they departed their tent that morning, preparing to complete another one of Robin's Reeking Box practices. He knew that he really shouldn't be laughing over Lon'qu's aversion to compliments but, ah, it was just so... cute.

Lon'qu made a muffled noise of vague embarrassment, tightened the collar around his neck.

"Hm? Lon'qu, is something the matter?" Libra's eyes glimmered, a twinge of concern coloring his humor. The action was so very unlike his lover, who was prone to covering his face with his hands or averting his eyes, but never closing his collar like that.

"You know what's the matter," Lon'qu answered gruffly, even with his face burning brightly.

Libra's smile faltered, even dropping altogether, "I... then something truly troubles you? Lon'qu, I apologize if I said something to offend you. I really don't know what's wrong..."

"It's not," Lon'qu went even redder, if possible. "It's not wrong. But. I thought you commented because you could see it."

"See what?" Libra blinked away his confusion as best as he could. His thoughts immediately jumped to does he have a scar, but even if Libra were not already intimately familiar with the marks of Lon'qu's body, he knew that it could not be the case. Lon'qu, at least, had never found shame in scars.

"I... you left a mark there," Lon'qu mumbled, just soft enough that only Libra's ears could catch it. "Yesterday evening. I thought you could still see it..."

"W-what?" Libra started, already looking faintly apologetic. He gently lifted his hands up to pry Lon'qu's away from where his own clasped the front of his shirt. "Let me see."

"It's not large," Lon'qu huffed, giving in to the request. He helpfully pointed out the small, reddened splotch of a barely-there bruise.

"Oh... thank the gods. It doesn't seem to be too severely bruised," Libra exhaled in relief. He reddened, ran the tip of his thumb over the almost-hickey, "Though... I certainly remember doing that. I'll have to take greater care next time."

"I, um," Lon'qu coughed, averting his gaze. "I don't... I don't really mind. Just. Not where other people can see."

"Yes," Libra agreed, silently thanking the gods that he had been blessed with a partner who preferred privacy as much as he did. "I will endeavor to be more discreet in the future. Perhaps, ah, we should get going... we'll be late for training if we tarry any longer."

"Right," and Lon'qu, with his hands returned to his sides, fell into Libra's stride.

They were still late to the training session's rendezvous point, even Stahl and Gaius showing up before they did. And, just before Robin prepared to at last open the reeking box, Vaike catcall-whistled at them, Gaius unhelpfully applauding in the background.

To the surprise of everyone, it was Olivia who piped up, "U-um, hey, Lon'qu... you certainly look fetching today. Is that a new hickey?"

Libra felt the blood rush to his face, absolute mortification settling into his bones. Lon'qu, given that this was his sister by Basilio's adoption, made a faint noise that wasn't unlike that of a dying man, and Libra wondered if he was, indeed, in danger of death by embarrassment.

"You look... lovelier than ever, Libra." 

"Well... it is a comfort to not be called 'voluptuous' for a change. Thank you."

And, though Libra spoke with a wry smile, Lon'qu's immediate response to that was to furrow his brow and withdraw his sword, "Who called you that?"

"I... really, Lon'qu, there's no need for you to duel anyone for my sake," Libra hushed him, pulling his arm down. Rapidly realizing that the other patrons of Ylisstol's annual Harvest Festival were staring at them, he pulled his lover down into a residential neighborhood that was fairly run-down, but (to the best of Libra's memory) comparatively safe.

"It... doesn't upset you?" Lon'qu asked, drawing his face in confusion. He narrowed his eyes, "That people... objectify you like that?"

"It does," Libra admitted, sneakily manhandling Lon'qu into placing his Killing Edge back in its sheath. "It bothers me quite a bit. But it's merely a word, nothing worth spilling blood over. And... to be entirely honest, I've heard it from so many different catcallers over the years that it would be impossible to duel all of them."

"Don't be so certain," Lon'qu growled. "I once dueled every soldier in the West Feroxi military to prove my worth as champion. And I will do the same for every catcaller in Ylisse, if it will prove my worth as your lover."

It was not the first time a man had offered to duel someone for Libra's honor, but rather than feeling altogether unimpressed by the notion as usual, Libra found himself dearly flattered. Lon'qu was a man prone to neither grand gestures nor boasts purely for the sake of currying favor, and Libra had no doubts that Lon'qu would follow suit on his threat, for better or for worse, if Libra would only permit him.

"No... you need not waste your time, my love," Libra slowly reached out to stroke the back of Lon'qu's hand, a fond smile eking its way onto his face in spite of himself. "It was unpleasant, yes, but merely unpleasant. You should save your steel for only that which cannot be redeemed."

"Like undead," Lon'qu began slowly.

"Among perhaps one or two other things," Libra began, but his eyes, trained too well from years in the bowels of Ylisstol's underground, spotted a metallic glint in the distance. It was all he could do to shove Lon'qu out of the way and shout, "Watch out!"

In the next moment, a searing pain tore through his side, rendering him near unable to move for a moment as the arrow dug painfully into his flesh. Libra gasped, releasing something like a quiet cry of pain, only faintly aware of Lon'qu nocking his own arrow and striking back, easily doubling their concealed foe and causing him to fall from his balcony, into the street they stood in.

"Libra," Lon'qu gasped, as if all the breath had been knocked from his lungs, leaning over him in concern. "Speak to me!"

"I... I'll live," Libra swallowed, trying to speak through the aftershocks of pain. "An... another. Someone else..."

Lon'qu narrowed his eyes, standing guard over Libra's prone form with his iron bow pulled taut, at the ready. The fleeting thought of I should have practiced more, wish I had a Killer Bow crossed his mind for a moment. Suddenly, a movement, a flux in the air like dark magic, a hand clawing for the bit of Libra's blood dribbling down the street, and Lon'qu fired furiously, the sorcerer falling to the ground beside the assassin he'd incapacitated mere seconds ago.

"Libra," he began, adrenaline rushing through his ears. Perhaps hoping that Libra knew something about how the streets of Ylisstol worked, "Who are they?"

"The other things," Libra stood, shakily, beginning to recover from the aftershock of the injury. "That I mentioned before."

"Should I...?" Lon'qu asked, finishing the question merely by pulling his blade an inch or two out of its sheath.

"Yes," Libra breathed, and even though they'd dealt him a significant blow, he still could not bring himself to watch as Lon'qu ended them with a pair of quick stabs.

Libra shut his eyes, and prayed.

"Take care out there, Lon'qu. I do not wish for the gods to have you just yet."

"Never you worry. I won't die when I know you still need me."

Lon'qu's words did little to quell Libra's concern, though; the Outrealms weren't exactly the most stable of places, whatever its wardens might have to say on the matter. Libra bit his lip, rolled it between his teeth anxiously, "This will be the first time in quite a long time that I will be unable to battle beside you..."

"You're injured," Lon'qu reminded him, softly cringing as he watched the bandages over Libra's skin loosen and tighten with each breath. "And... you shouldn't go into battle until you're completely recovered. That's what you tell your patients."

"I suppose hypocrisy is one of my many vices," Libra sighed in response, setting his fingertips gently against Lon'qu's collarbone. "But I've agreed to stay here, regardless of what I wish... that must count for something."

"Good. That's... good," Lon'qu answered, glancing down at Libra's bandaged wounds again. He hesitated, collecting his words, laden with guilt when they at last emerged, "I'll be... stronger when I return. And then I can protect you better."

Libra's heart ached for him, then, as it rapidly became obvious that Lon'qu blamed himself still for the attack, for the injury that marred his skin still, "Lon'qu... I have never found your fighting ability lacking."

"You must find it lacking now," Lon'qu frowned back, entirely too gentle as he brushed the place where bandage met skin.

"No, you lack nothing," Libra insisted, trailing his fingers up to cup Lon'qu's jaw, to direct him so their eyes met. "All I wish is that you be alive when you return. Completely unharmed, if possible. Whether or not you've become stronger... I'm not worried about that."

"I'll be... alive," Lon'qu began. He looked as if he were about to say something else. Hesitated.

"Do you... have doubts?" and Libra felt concern clench his gut. If even Lon'qu was unsure whether or not he was going to emerge alive... Libra's face painted itself with dread.

"I'll be alive," Lon'qu assured him, firm in the way he lifted his fingers to clasp Libra's wrist. He drew his brows together as he finished the thought, "But... will you?"

"Will I... be alive?" Libra looked completely confused. He reached out his thumbs against Lon'qu's cheeks, caressing softly, "I'm not the one going into battle, Lon'qu. What gave you the idea I was in danger?"

"The... other day. When... you were shot," Lon'qu began, shutting his eyes, trying to maintain his composure. He took a deep breath, "I dream of it. That I'm not fast enough to catch the assassin. That I don't notice the sorcerer in time. That you take the arrow somewhere that kills you. And... that someone returns. To finish the job."

"That," Libra murmured back, a soft frown furrowing his brow, "That's in the past, Lon'qu. None of that happened... I'm here, now, and I'm fine."

"One of them," Lon'qu answered, his whisper trembling. "One of them still might."

"I don't..." Libra began, mentally scanning the list of Lon'qu's worries. At last, he sighed, "I don't believe anyone will return to attack me... not on purpose, at any rate. This... those people... they're a variety rarely found outside the lower class neighborhoods of Ylisstol. And... I've dealt with them before. Far back in my past..."

"Then... you're safe?" Lon'qu gave him a quizzical look. Wondered if, perhaps, he'd dragged up something horrible in Libra's memories, and an apologetic tone crept into his voice, "I'm... concerned."

"Yes... undoubtedly safe," Libra replied, and paused. Lon'qu was graciously silent as Libra gathered his thoughts. At last, he spoke, "There is... something of a phenomenon in Ylisstol. From when the Crusader King-- er, Lord Chrom's father-- still reigned supreme. Ylissean dark mages were ostracized... considered 'demonic.' Even I, with merely potential..."

Libra's voice trailed off for a moment, unable to quell the gut reaction, the instinctual uprising of emotion from the mere memory. His abandonment, his injury, the cruelty of his childhood... Lon'qu carefully ghosted his fingertips away from Libras wrist. Took his hand, squeezed it, "You don't. Don't have to force yourself."

"Well, I suppose you've already heard that story," Libra shook his head with a sad smile. "Many of them... many of us... turned to blood magic in our desperation. But... well, blood magic can be addictive. Horribly addictive. It started with following assassins... and then, for those with the power to do so, hiring assassins. And then, when their hearts truly belonged to the darkness... mind controlling them. They have no particular targets, only whomever they believe they can kill... and so, I'm confident that none will venture out this far."

"Were you," Lon'qu began, choosing his words carefully. He tightened the hold on Libra's hand minutely, "Were you afraid to see them?"

"I was," Libra admitted, his other hand coming to trail the flat edge of Lon'qu's own bladed assassin gloves. "But not out of fear for my life. I only thought-- if I hadn't been taken in by the church, if you hadn't become Basilio's champion... well. Mere twists of fate were all that stood between you and I becoming... that. It was an... uncomfortable reminder of what I might have been."

"... I understand," Lon'qu looked pained, something flashing in his mind like a realization. An image of some other universe's Libra, wholly out of his mind like the sorcerer he'd killed with his own hand.

"So, Lon'qu," and something in Libra's gaze looked unbearably soft, then. "Please... try not to worry about me. Merely focus on returning home in one piece."

"I won't die," Lon'qu repeated, reluctantly releasing his grip lest he be late to his marching orders. "I won't die when I know you still need me."

And Libra let go, the warmth of adoration glimmering in his eyes, "I know."

"Libra, if you die out there... I'll kill you."

"Be at peace. I intend to stay with you as long as the gods allow."

And in spite of the light tone of Libra's voice, Lon'qu couldn't help but be concerned by his shortness of breath, the way he clutched his side, newly scarred-over and approved for practice.

"I thought," Lon'qu began, interrupted as he rapidly blocked attacks from the cultists' advance, only to continue when he had a moment to breathe. "I thought healers weren't allowed to approve themselves for battle."

"I'm all right," Libra insisted, raising a hand in order to scorch a foe with a well-placed Arcfire. "And quite positive that Lissa and Maribelle would agree with me, if there had been time to consult them before the attack."

"Stay back!" Lon'qu growled, leaping in front of Libra to block a berserker's axe. "You were almost hit..."

Libra backed away and finished off the foe, breathing heavily. He swallowed his pain, determined to ignore it, "My apologies, Lon'qu... I will endeavor to be more vigilant."

"Just stay behind me," and Lon'qu's brows knit with concentration, just before he lunged forth an drove a sword into the breast of a cultist.

But, no matter how secure a shield Lon'qu believed he had formed, no wall was without its fallacies-- and neither was Lon'qu capable of blocking every hit that targeted Libra, whether it be by parrying it with a blade or taking the blow himself. It was an Elwind that made its way through, blasting Libra with such force that he gasped, his ribs recoiling at the impact. Bruised, perhaps, or dealt a minor fracture. 

"Lon'qu," and Libra sucked in a breath, the air knocked from his lungs, grasping at his side. He threatened to collapse altogether, knees buckling.

"Libra!" Lon'qu hurried to offer him support, getting Libra's arm over his shoulder, his own holding Libra up by his uninjured waist.

"W-with these wounds, I'll only be a burden..." Libra at last admitted, cringing as the scar tissue pulled painfully at his bruises. "I must withdraw... gracefully..."

"Forget graceful," Lon'qu growled, practically hauling his lover from the din of battle to as far away as humanly possible. "Withdraw alive."

"Graceful... as in before I overtest the gods' graces," Libra managed a weak smile.

"Too late for that," Lon'qu muttered, brows drawn together in absolute fury.

It was impossible to miss the hurt look that crossed Libra's face from the accusation, and then, with a twinge of shame, "I... you're right. I shouldn't have come here to begin with, not at less than my full ability... But I could not stand to sit by idly while others placed their lives on the line. I suppose if patience is a virtue, then impatience must too be a sin. I'm sorry, Lon'qu, to have burdened you so."

"No," answered Lon'qu, faintly apologetic, once they were safely out of range. He withdrew the vulnerary he'd been assigned, began applying it to Libra's still-tender wounds, "Worrisome. Not burdensome. Libra... I care for you. If you died here... urgh."

"You don't have to say it," and Libra, with the arm on his good side, unstuck a sweat-dampened curl from Lon'qu's forehead. "I am sorry for worrying you thus... but, gods willing, I swear I will not leave you."

"Good," replied Lon'qu, fingers lingering on bruised ribs, already beginning to heal. His eyes were soft, then, and the words that followed carried a tremendous, unspoken weight: "That's... good."

"You dropped something, Libra."

"This is a powerful amulet... I was hoping to surprise you with it."

Lon'qu stared down at the bauble he held in his palm-- small, visually unimpressive. A vial, not unlike the kind Miriel used for on-the-road chemistry, and exceedingly similar to an elixir container. Indeed, perhaps it was a recycled elixir container, now that Lon'qu looked at it more closely, sealed at either end with what seemed to be silver coins, hammered flat, a tiny loop of wire welded to the top.

"Thank you," he mumbled at last, altogether touched by the gift, its homemade charm giving it far more value than the finest jewels in all Ylisse. He deftly threaded it onto a scrap of fabric, pulled taut until it resembled a very thick string, and secured it around his neck. "It's... did you make it?"

"I, ah," Libra looked faintly embarrassed. "You noticed? I'm afraid my craftsmanship isn't quite on par with most professional talisman-makers, but..."

"It's better," Lon'qu scratched the back of his neck where the string tickled his skin, unused to wearing any type of accessory. "I... like it. Er. What does it do?"

"It's... well," Libra began, something like a sheepish smile upon his face. "It's an amulet that's meant to return you to my side if you've been severely injured... the spellwork is quite complex."

Lon'qu turned the vial upside down in his grasp, watched the way the fluid within slid against the glass. It was a viscosity he was exceedingly familiar with. He pursed his lips, "You mean... it's blood magic."

"I... well, yes, sort of," Libra admitted, for once unable to meet Lon'qu's eyes. The air hung thick with silence for a moment, and then-- "You must think me a terrible hypocrite for using that which I condone in others."

"You aren't," Lon'qu's brow furrowed, something troubled in his gaze has he tried to complete the sentence, somehow. Aren't bloodthirsty, he thought, aren't anything like the sorcerer in Ylisstol. Neither of those seemed to suffice, and so Lon'qu ended that train of thought there. Instead, "Did it hurt?"

"I suppose you aren't asking about the blood itself being drawn," Libra sighed, smoothing his hand over the ribbon around Lon'qu's neck. "Falling from the gods' graces by returning to my oldest vice... it hurt less than I thought it would. I've been turning the benefits and drawbacks in my head for days... what it would take to cast the spell, the requirements for sealing it, the materials I would need. Making this amulet... it was no impulse decision. Still... I was surprised by how little it bothered me."

Lon'qu was momentarily silent, attempting to sort his thoughts into words. It was only a second or two, perhaps-- Libra knew so, but yet it anticipation made it seem so much longer. His fingers began to creep softly onto Lon'qu's collarbone, but when they met bare skin he pulled his hand away, suddenly repulsed by the idea that these hands which had cast spells using the very forces of life should touch a man who had no idea what they'd done, what he'd done.

"Don't," Lon'qu broke the silence, his hand lashing up to grab Libra's before he went away entirely.

"S-stop," Libra tried to jerk his fingers from the grip, but Lon'qu's hold was firmer, "I shouldn't touch you, I--"

"Promise me," Lon'qu interrupted, finishing the thought he'd meant to finish all along. There was something incredibly grave in his narrowed eyes, "Promise me that you're safe. That this... thing... won't do anything bad to you."

"It's my safety you're worried about?" spoken with a note of surprise, an echo like hysteria. His fingers burned in the heat of Lon'qu's grasp. Libra's eyes creased with pain, and with a shuddering breath, "Lon'qu... right now, with your hand around mine... there are spells that could draw every drop of blood from your body from mere contact."

"... there are," Lon'qu answered slowly, only to be taken aback when Libra closed the space between them even further, something incredibly dark resonating within his face.

"Or, perhaps, you'd prefer it if I stripped you of your free will," Libra hissed, his mouth hovering over Lon'qu's like an almost-kiss. His vicious grip threatened to break Lon'qu's fingers, "You already wear my blood around your neck... one kiss. One kiss with the intent to make your will my own, and you would be nothing but my thrall as soon as I pressed my lips to yours. You would be no different from the assassin you killed in Ylisstol, a hollow shell capable only of murder. Do you fear me yet??"

Shock flickered across Lon'qu's face for a moment, but steeled itself into the confines of a neutral expression. Unwaveringly, Lon'qu met wide, wild eyes with his own, "No."

And he leaned down, barely an inch, connected his mouth to Libra's. Tenderly did he absorb the strained, agonized squeak that fell from Libra's throat, and then. Then their fingers loosened, and Lon'qu set a comforting hand on either side of Libra's waist, warm and solid and so exactly what Libra needed that he wondered (with a horrible, horrible dread) if he had accidentally imbued the kiss with the words of a blood-spell, had accidentally stolen Lon'qu's soul.

He pulled away, terrified to find if he had, indeed, mistakenly destroyed that which he loved most.

"Lon'qu," Libra croaked, his heart sitting in his throat.

"Your spell," Lon'qu glanced at him. "Does nothing to a man who would already kill for you. A man... who is already a hollow shell capable only of murder."

Libra trembled in his hold, his breath catching with relief that he had not, indeed, stolen his soul, the very source of his voice. He started, "Lon'qu..."

"Libra," and the softness in Lon'qu's gaze as he looked at him, the gentleness of his hold on Libra's waist... Libra's body felt like poison, as if he would bring an end to all of it merely by existing.

"Don't touch me," he whispered, shoving Lon'qu away from him, feeling horribly dirty. Dirty in the way that he would soil Lon'qu's heart through his presence. Dirty, as if he would never be clean because he was the filth itself, echoes of things villagers had said as they spat at him still ringing, haunting.

And when Libra strode away, Lon'qu did not try to stop him this time.

"You dropped something, Lon'qu... is it important?"

"It's... an accessory I brought for you. Just entering a women's establishment was hell..."

Libra, then, found that he had no idea what he ought to answer, these words being the first they'd exchanged since their argument. Certainly-- as they fought in the same army, cohabitated, had grown too used to existing in the same space-- it had been far from their only interaction, but silently shifting around each other to don armor or receive weapons was exceedingly, heartbreakingly different from what they had been before. To have broken the silence... Libra was yet unsure whether it would bring clarity to the situation or only create more pointed shards between them.

He could only stare at the delicate hairpin that had fallen from Lon'qu's pocket, scarcely capable of believing it had been that which caused the end of two muted weeks.

Lon'qu, too, remained quiet, swallowing Libra's expression with his eyes. When he did not speak, Libra-- terrified that the silence would be erected once more, that these words would hang awkwardly between them forever-- at last found his voice, "Thank you."

He watched as Lon'qu swallowed, his throat bobbing before he opened his mouth, hesitant, "Do you... do you like it?"

Libra looked curiously at the pin, really looking this time, its faintly floral motif in jeweled curls of silver. He had never been one for accessories, but it was stunning in an elegant, subtle way that he couldn't have chosen better himself. A smile tugged at the corner of his lip, "I like it very much... it's beautiful. Thank you, Lon'qu... I will cherish this gift always."

"That's," Lon'qu stumbled, fidgeting anxiously with a lock of his own hair. "That's good. That you like it. I, uh. Couldn't bring myself to talk to the saleswoman. I've... never picked out jewelry before."

"I'm sorry that you went to such lengths for my sake," and Libra, testing the waters, took the slightest step closer. His shoulders unraveled from a clench that he hadn't even known existed when, to his relief, Lon'qu did not flinch.

"I... wanted to apologize," Lon'qu admitted, confusion crossing Libra's features at the words. To clarify, "For... upsetting you the other day."

Libra's eyes slid to Lon'qu's throat, noticed that the amulet still hung around it. He suddenly found it very difficult to swallow, but still spoke, "You did nothing wrong... I should be the one apologizing. You did nothing but show concern for me, offer comfort... and still yet, I almost hurt you."

"But you didn't," Lon'qu lowered his face to meet Libra's eyes.

"I could have," Libra bit his lip, feeling his skin crawl at the memory.

"But you didn't," Lon'qu repeated, his eyes speaking volumes behind those three words.

"You..." Libra began, tilting his head slightly, without breaking eye contact. At last, he said, "You believed I wouldn't?"

"If... if it were something you wanted," Lon'qu answered, every word carefully pieced together. "I wouldn't have cared if you had."

"Oh... oh, Lon'qu," Libra whispered. Unable to bear looking in such honest eyes, he shut his own. "Whatever I did for the gods to place you in my life... your presence is too great a reward for it."

"H-hey," Lon'qu stuttered, and in a movement that seemed to shake the very earth beneath Libra's feet, wiped something wet from his face. "Don't. Don't cry."

"I... hadn't noticed," Libra leaned into the touch, feeling remarkably cleansed by his own tears, Lon'qu's hand. "My apologies, Lon'qu. I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable."

"I..." Lon'qu tried to come up with words to match his feelings. "Are you okay? I just... I want you to be okay."

"I... I will be," Libra swallowed, his eyes at last fluttering open again. "The spell... the one you wear... I've been asking myself if my reasoning for making it was just an excuse to use the blood rites again. It's... something I've thought about on and off for years. That I shouldn't let this knowledge rest while it can still save lives. That power of this magnitude should not be wasted and left idle."

"Did you," Lon'qu asked, and Libra could see no judgement in his expression. "Did you come to an answer?"

"Only that, whatever odds I've faced before," Libra shook his head, thought of Plegia, Emmeryn, Grima himself, "It is only your personal safety that has ever caused me to take action. My motives... they are wholly selfish."

"You don't," Lon'qu cupped his cheek. "Strike me as a selfish man."

"Oh, but I am," Libra chuckled, smiling through the last vestiges of his tears. "Because I'm terrified of losing you, even to the gods themselves, whom I should deny nothing. I'm certain they will damn me for it."

Lon'qu was silent for a moment, and Libra worried for one awful second that they would go another two weeks without speaking. But he opened his mouth again, and, ineloquently, "I'm sorry."

"Don't be," and Libra looked at him with something very soft in his eyes. He leaned in close, his hair brushing Lon'qu's cheek, and whispered, "If this, out of everything I've done, is what I'm damned for... it's worth it."

And Lon'qu exhaled, trying to wrap his mind around the enormity of the feeling that rose within him at those words. They were silent, again, in their closeness, Lon'qu's thumb gently brushing over the arc of Libra's cheek.

At last, he found words again: "That hairpin... will you let me put it on you?"

"Of course," Libra smiled, their hands brushing as he passed it into Lon'qu's.

Reverent fingers smoothed down flyaway strands and clipped them in place. It suited Libra even better than he could have possibly dreamed.

"You are the gods' greatest blessing, Lon'qu. I am truly, deeply happy."

And when Libra spoke, his head resting at the crook of Lon'qu's neck, warmth bubbled in his heart, settled into his bones. He smiled softly, eyes crinkling at the edges, and let his hands tentatively brush against a bare chest. Relished in the wonder that Lon'qu did not flinch.

"Not in so loud a voice... Though, I love you too."

Lon'qu whispered back in the quiet of the night, carding his fingers through Libra's hair-- a comforting gesture, a familiar one. 

"Whyever," Libra sighed back, brushing his nose against the side of Lon'qu's neck, inhaling there. "Whyever should I not?"

"You'll wake the next tent over," Lon'qu offered. As if by explanation, "It's late."

"Almost late enough to be early," Libra chuckled, dancing his fingertips over a not-so-subtle lovebite. Perhaps if he gave Lon'qu one of his turtlenecks? ... or was his figure too tall to fit one of Libra's shirts?

"You should," Lon'qu started, shifting restlessly beneath where Libra's body pinned him. "You should sleep at least a little."

"What about you?" Libra answered back, concern twinging his voice. "You haven't even dozed off tonight..."

"I'll be late for practice if I sleep now," Lon'qu exhaled, averting his eyes to the ceiling of their tent. Unspoken, but still yet communicated, the fear of what he would find in the world of dreams.

"Do you," Libra spoke, glancing up at him tenderly. "Do you still dream of them?"

Lon'qu was silent for a moment, "At times."

"Lon'qu... worry not," Libra breathed back, lips nearly kissing Lon'qu's neck. "I think... I think we will never be as they were."

"What," Lon'qu replied, trying not to let the circles that Libra drew upon his skin lull him to sleep. "Makes you think that?"

"You and I," said Libra, nearly asleep himself. "Are still capable of love."

And, Lon'qu thought, Frederick would surely have an aneurysm if he missed the fitness hour he'd been scheduled for. He found that it mattered not, but still, "There will be consequences if I miss practice."

"I'll write you a doctor's note," Libra mumbled into Lon'qu's shoulder, dismissing the query.

It was horrible abuse of his station as one of the army's primary healers, and both of them knew it. But Libra's arms were a siren song, and Lon'qu let that affection persuade him into at least trying for a nap.

Though, he had to admit, I love him too.

Omake

"Have I mentioned you've been acting odd lately? Why do you wander off from camp?"

"If there is a place of worship nearby, I pray there and purify my heart."

Tharja gave him a scrutinizing look, unfooled by Libra's fair countenance. She glared at her friend, assessing, crossed her arms beneath her chest.

"You wouldn't," she started. "Need purification. Not for the normal dark magic you've been using in battle."

"Can one not ask forgiveness for the mere damage they deal in battle?" Libra turned his head slightly, and for all intents and purposes, seemed befuddled. "I did the same before, when I used no magic, only axes."

He was an excellent actor, Tharja thought. But nothing could escape her observant eye.

"You've done something," she accused, pressing a single pointed fingernail to her lip. "Your aura... it's different. Not the black of night, but the black of sludge, clinging to you. Darker, heavier than anything Henry or I can muster on the darkest of days... an ink. An ink, that drips from your aura like... like..."

"Yes," Libra sighed, knowing then that his attempt to conceal what he'd done was futile. "Like blood."

"I hope you know the danger you pose to us all by using it," Tharja scowled, "Or is that something your Crusader King forbade you from learning?"

"No, I am... I am aware of the risks," Libra shook his head, braced himself for the impact.

"Then you know by now that you can go mad from using it... that you can drown in the darkness and lose all sense save for a taste for blood," Tharja hissed, her eyes narrowed. "Even in Plegia, where dark magic is openly accepted... mages are expected to perform blood rites exactly once, just to be inducted as full-fledged mages. Sometimes, that single spell grows out of even the most experienced mage's control. One wrong move, and you could end up blindly slaughtering half of Robin's army."

"I took the precaution of casting the rites in a wooded clearing, away from camp," Libra offered, looking faintly ashamed of himself. "It... it wasn't a very large blood spell, regardless... I doubt none but myself would have gotten hurt if there had been any... complications. The... the returning spell. It was one of the first I learned. I used it to steal food as a child on Ylisstol's streets..."

"Used it to steal--" Tharja looked repulsed, never a good sign given her general fondness for most things repulsive. "Foolish! A stroke of luck... it's a mere stroke of luck that you're anything resembling sane! As a fellow dark mage and ally... swear to me that you will never use this foul and clouding power again. You're too useful to fall into that abyss just yet..."

"Tharja..." Libra began, rotating through his own emotions in his head. His thoughts flickered to Lon'qu, then, "I cannot make that promise."

Tharja's eyes glanced over his expression again. At last, she spoke, her eyes narrowed at him, piercing, sharp, "I see. I understand more than you know. He's... your Robin, isn't he? The one who calls out to the very pitch-black essence of your soul."

"It's... a little bit more complicated than that," Libra replied, tentative. "But... at its heart... I suppose that description is fairly close."

"... I can't stop you, then. But be careful," Tharja warned, dark and intense as she swept out of the barracks. "One wrong move, and I won't hesitate to cut you down."

And, though it was meant to be a threat, some kind of relief washed over Libra at those words. He answered, "Thank you, Tharja."

"Heh," she chuckled, turning back with a dark smile. "You're welcome."