Archive of Our Own ^beta

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"You're going to wear a hole in the floor if you keep pacing like that."

Welt paused mid-stride, his expression infuriatingly calm despite the snark. A drop of sweat curved down his temple to trail enticingly along the cord of his throat. "You said I made too much noise during my workouts," he countered. "I can't just sit and do nothing all the time. What if someone hostile picks up the distress beacon?"

Throwing his head back in frustration, Void Archives let loose a groan. "I'm not asking you to vegetate, O mighty Sovereign. I'm asking you to find a more productive way to get out that restless energy." He wrinkled his nose. "One that doesn't involve you making so much goddamn noise."

"I didn't think I was." Welt raised an eyebrow. "That said, I'm open to suggestions."

"You may be dense, Herrscher, but you're not that dense."

"Or I just need to hear you say it."

Void Archives stormed over and grabbed Welt by the shirt, shoving him against the steel wall. "Do not test my patience!"

"I'm not trying to!" And he wasn't. Void Archives hated that he knew that. Welt gripped his arm, the soulium skin threatening to crumple, before shoving him back. This close, the Archives could see under the calm facade to the simmering frustration and guilt the idiot man always carried. "You know my rule."

Growling, Void Archives wrapped a hand around that perfect throat and squeezed, a satisfied grin warping his face as Welt struggled to take a breath. "Isn't this consent enough, Sovereign?" he smirked, then kissed him.

Open, hard kisses, all teeth and tongue, Welt struggling against it for a moment before the hand around his throat grew even tighter in warning. Void Archives chuckled lowly to himself when he finally relaxed in submission. "That's better," he murmured against his lips, then bit down. The Herrscher's blood tasted vibrant, metallic, human; Welt moaned, a little, and reluctantly parted his lips to allow the Archives to press his bloody tongue inside and share the taste.

Welt hesitantly kissed back, licking along the side of the Archive's own. "Pretend you don't actually want me to fuck you, if it relieves that inane guilt complex," Void Archives hissed. He ground his knee up against the outline of Welt's half-hard cock, drawing out a shivery moan and a buck of his hips. "I'll know the truth. Your body is far more honest than your mouth."

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The ice encasing March shimmered in the low light.

"No change." Welt shook his head, looking back up at Himeko. "Neither Madam Herta nor Screwllum had any answers. I don't think she's in any worse danger, though."

"Assuming this isn't dangerous enough." She sighed and rubbed at the dark circles under her eyes. "Go get some rest, Welt. I can watch her from here."

"...still no news from Amphoreus?"

"Nothing. I'll let you know if anything changes. Now go take a nap. You can't help anyone if you run yourself into the ground."

Reluctantly, he walked away. Not to his cabin- the thought of sleeping when his fellow Trailblazers were in danger made him sick- and definitely not to the Party Car. He couldn't guarantee he could be cordial with Black Swan when all he wanted to do was throw her into space.

So, to the Parlor Car. The silence was unnerving; the Conductor was busy with the chores no one else had the spirit to do, and Sunday was busy researching in the Data Bank (after he'd kicked Welt out with another demand for him to rest.) After a moment of pacing, he finally sat down and dropped his head in his hands.

Could March hear them? Could she feel the cold? Was her mind active, trapped inside her body?

Welt remembered, all too well, the horrors of being locked within the Core of Reason. The icy cold of space. The agony of his body unraveling. The unending noise of the voices in the core and the fight to keep himself in control, to not be subsumed in that ocean.

His fingers flexed in his hair, pulling, trying to anchor himself with the pain.

The terror of not being able to hear or see or feel anything beyond that prison. The fear of being stuck there, forever, alone. The despair at being abandoned by the one person that could have helped, Welt Joyce silent no matter how much he'd search for him?

Was that how she felt now? Desperate for the presence of her found family, unable to understand what had happened or how to break free?

And what of Stelle and Dan Heng? Had they landed safely? Were the locals treating them well? Were they still- no, no, they had to be alive. They had to be.

Welt grit his teeth against the surge of panic. He should have insisted. Should have gone with them. Should be able to find a solution, he was failing them the same way he'd failed everyone on Earth, and wasn't that all he was good for? Failure?

Why did it still feel like he was trapped there, in the depths of his cold, empty core?

A heavy weight pressed against his side. "Breathe, Joachim," Sunday murmured as he pried one hand out of his hair. "In, two three four- good. Hold... Now out, two three four."

Slow breaths. In, hold, out. In, hold, out, following Sunday's gentle directions and pushing aside the panic to focus instead on the warmth of the man beside him. "I'm fine now," Welt murmured, squeezing his hand for a second before pressing it to his lips. "I'm sorry, little sun. This isn't how I wanted your first major trailblaze to go."

"You're not fine. None of us are." Sunday ran his fingers up and down his spine, soothing- but his hands were trembling too. "And that's okay... isn't it?"

Welt pulled him into his arms, letting himself sigh into his hair. At least there was this- he wasn't alone now. He wasn't trapped, not with fire and sunlight to guide him out. "It is," he said. "It is. And we'll be okay too."

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Rest days on the Express tended to be rare, given the steady stream of commissions, repairs, and trailblazing that occupied the crew's time. Even as a passenger, Sunday often found himself caught up in the whirlwind. Not that he minded- he had always stayed busy as the head of the Family, after all.

Which was why, when a true rest day hit, he found himself at an utter loss.

"Don't think too hard about it, little sun," Welt advised. He was sprawled across the loveseat in his cabin, messy hair and jaw all lined with delicious scruff; he wore a soft, worn Arahato t-shirt and even more worn jeans, his long legs kicked over the armrest. Putting his book aside, he reached out and took Sunday's hand. "C'mere."

Sunday yelped as Welt pulled him down on top of him. "Joachim!" he laughed, blushing furiously as he tried to get back up.

"Nope." Welt said, giving him a lopsided, boyish grin. "Seems you need a lesson in relaxation."

Sunday let his fingers trail over the swell of firm pectorals, the light ripple down his stomach. "And what makes you so sure you're qualified to teach me?"

He just laughed. "I suppose I should demonstrate my qualifications," he murmured, and kissed him.

The kiss was lazy, gentle, a soft and unhurried exploration. Again, and again, Welt lightly sucking on Sunday's bottom lip before he began to squirm. Sunday goosed his side, making him laugh, then dove in for another long, lazy, open-mouthed kiss to lick slow stripes along each other's tongues. 

Welt sighed against him when they finally came up for air. His fingers ran up and down Sunday's spine, tracing every vertebrae with a gentle tenderness. "So. How is my teaching method so far?"

"Not bad, Professor," Sunday murmured. He smirked and leaned in for another lazy kiss. "But I think I could use another lesson."

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"Are you still sulking?"

Welt sighed and spun around in his chair to face Himeko. "I fail to see how researching ecological recovery methods counts as sulking," he replied, his tone as dry as the desert. "The kids requested the help."

"But it's not how you want to help them." She leaned against the databank and crossed her arms over her chest. "Isn't it better to let the kids tackle things that are this dangerous? We're not as young as we used to be, you know."

There was no hiding how much that comment stung. "Speak for yourself," he scoffed.

Himeko had the grace to look apologetic. "You know what I'm trying to say, Welt. It's not your responsibility to protect everyone."

"That's not it." At her skeptical look, he conceded, "That's not all of it, at least."

"Then explain it to me."

Sighing again, Welt leaned back in his chair, rubbing his eyes. How did he explain? His life had never belonged to just him, not since he was eight and being handed the weight of the world. His life had always been about protecting others, giving and giving until it felt like he had nothing left for himself. He'd resented it, sometimes, in the quiet of the night when he didn't have to wear the Sovereign's mask.

But then he'd been shot into another dimension with no hope of return, abandoned by the one person who knew his role, and... who was he, without all of that? Who was Welt Yang without the weight of the world?

He still didn't know. But with each trailblaze, with each new world, each new person he met, it felt like he was getting closer to an answer.

"I suppose I just miss the thrill of it," he finally said. "My trailblazing goal is people, Himeko. And it's hard to make those connections while isolated on a train. No offense."

"I keep forgetting you view it differently," she relented. "And it's not entirely fair. We all rely on you so much... but I'll try not to restrict you as much in the future. I know you can take care of yourself."

"All I can ask is that you try." He mustered up a smile as Himeko squeezed his shoulder. "Ah? Looks like the storm on the planet has calmed down. The kids will be calling soon."

"I'll leave you to it, then." With one last pat, Himeko walked away.

Leaning back, Welt took off his glasses to rub at his forehead. He'd be out there eventually. He'd find the answers he'd been looking for.

He just had to wait.

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The Voidrangers just wouldn't stop coming.

Welt struggled to get up, his leg shattered and twisted at a sickening angle behind him. Blood ran thick down the side of his face, welled up in his throat; he spat a mouthful of it to the ground before slamming his cane to the dirt in a bid to slow the oncoming rush. "Himeko, you've got to run!" he screamed.

"And leave you alone to die?!" Himeko's arm hung uselessly at her side; she swung her suitcase, sending another barrage of fire from her deployed satellite. Help wasn't coming, not with the scores of dead soldiers around them. "I'm not leaving you-"

"Himeko, watch out!"

A shadow fell over her. The flash of metal as a Trampler raised its hooves. She whirled around- too slow, far too slow, she wasn't going to make it-

"Stand down!"

Screaming. A burst of scarlet light. Welt, hovering mid-air, gravity crackling about him like lightning, hands flared out and veins throbbing in his temples. Welt, eyes glowing red and bloody teeth bared in a snarl, physically tearing the space around them open, instantly crushing the massive horde in a black hole-

-and the second the danger had passed, he plummeted to the ground with a sickening crack and went still.

"Welt!"

She dragged herself to him, desperation drowning out the agony of her wrenched ankle and ruined arm. "Welt," she begged. His chest rose and fell in shallow, slow breaths. She laid her good hand on his cheek, afraid to shake him. "Welt, answer me! Please!"

His chest rose and fell once more. "Did I... get them all?" he rasped, cracking one eye open.

A little sob escaped her; tears beginning to fall, she knelt and covered his lips with her own, over and over again, ignoring the taste of salt and metal to drive home her desperation. "Don't ever do that again," she breathed in between kisses. "Never again, you hear me?"

Welt kissed her back, once, the movement faint. "No promises," he whispered.

His eyes slid closed. His breathing steadied, heart still beating in his chest. Alive. Alive.

Behind them, the steady thumping of footsteps racing towards them. Shouts for medical staff. Apologies and frantic movement- rescue, coming far too late.

Himeko pressed one last kiss to Welt's bloodied mouth before struggling to her feet, letting the medics swarm around his broken body.

He'd be okay, she told herself.

He'd be all right.

He had to be.

Chapter Text

"His fever's getting worse."

Sunday shifted the ice pack laying on Welt's forehead, his jaw tight and wings tucked tight behind his ears. The illness had hit swiftly and suddenly, the Express passing through a strange energy field near the remnants of Acheron's home planet when Welt had soundlessly collapsed. High fever, strange rectangular marks in fuschia creeping up his limbs and fading over and over, evolving into a rattle in his lungs and an inability to keep even liquids down.

And they were still almost a day away from the nearest hospital.

Welt shifted from where he lay half-submerged and shivering in a tub of six-phased ice water. His eyes fluttered open. "Isä," he weakly cried, one trembling hand reaching out to the empty space. Sunday grasped it tight. "Isä, älä kuole-"

Beside him, Dan Heng swapped out the empty IV bag for another one. His brow furrowed as Welt began muttering under his breath in that same strange language. "Himeko finally got a hold of Dr. Ratio. She said he'll have a medical team waiting as soon as we arrive. We just have to keep him stable until-"

The strange glow illuminated under the ice, long magenta lines creeping towards the center of his chest and sinking in. Rapid-fire cycling, over and over, the monitor they'd hooked him up to sounding a shrill alarm as his heart rate skyrocketed. Welt stiffened, his head slamming back against the tub's edge, and before either of them could move his lungs locked up and his entire body began to violently thrash.

"He's seizing!"

Sunday plunged his arms into the tub and grabbed Welt before he could sink under. "Do something!" he shouted, halo dim and wings flapping in panic. Welt's head cracked against his chest; he ignored the pain and let Harmony flare in a desperate attempt to calm the seizure.

"I'm trying!" Dan Heng snapped, terror flashing across his face as he pushed another medication into the IV.

Himeko burst through the doors a second later, immediately grabbing his feet before his thrashing could shatter them against the tub. "Come on, Welt," she breathed. "Breathe-"

His body arced in the air, the center of his chest glowing- and then Welt drew in one sharp breath and screamed. Piercing, desperate, agonized- Sunday's wings snapped against his ears to muffle the horrifying sound. The scream reverberated in the tiny room, unending, Welt's face contorted in pain and eyes glowing scarlet. Little red constructs spilled out around him, guns and toys and fractured objects, dissolving before they could hit the ground. Agony, shrill, cresting, until the glow shattered and Welt collapsed with a splash into a boneless heap in the water.

His heart stopped. His breathing stopped.

And then, with one childlike, terrified wail, he began to breathe again.

The alarms went silent, a steady heartbeat flashing on the screen.

"... he's stabilizing," Dan Heng said. His voice shook as he sat back, hard, head in his hands. "The fever's going down" He swallowed hard. "Mr. Yang almost- he almost-"

"He's going to be okay," Himeko said, placing her hands on his shoulders. "He's alive, thanks to you two. It'll be all right."

Sunday tucked Welt's head closer to his chest and quietly began to cry.

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Sunday, Welt discovered, was a very demanding, very affectionate drunk.

Neither of them were exactly sober that night- the Luminary Wardance had been spectacular to watch, and the liquor on the Luofu flowed freely. Which was fine for Welt, as his Herrscher powers meant he could only get mildly tipsy at best, but for Sunday....

"Joachiiiiiiim," Sunday whined, pawing at the collar of Welt's hanfu. "You're - you're - you're wearing too much."

"We're in public, little sun," he laughed as he guided him down a quiet alley. "Can't you wait until we get to the hotel?"

Sunday paused before slumping against him. "Nooo," he groaned, and buried his face in the crook of his neck. He nibbled on the exposed skin. "Tasty."

Welt inhaled sharply, the sensation sending all kinds of obscene sensations straight to his groin. "Sunday," he warned.

Mumbling against his skin Sunday began to trail playful, nipping kisses along the length of his throat. He latched on just under his ear and sucked, hard, all teeth and tongue; Welt gasped, hands sliding down to clutch at his pert little ass. "My Joachim," Sunday slurred before switching sides to add another scarlet mark.

"Yes - ah fuck - all yours." Sunday rutted against him as he began kissing harder, littering his skin with bright red circles and bruising teeth marks. Welt growled and pulled him away, panting. "Sunday, for the love of God, do you want us to fuck in public? Because that's what's going to - aaah, Jesus Christ! - happen if you keep this up."

Sunday slipped his hand back out of the inside of Welt's robe, a naughty, drunken grin on his face. "Mmmmmaybe?"

Sighing, Welt grabbed Sunday and, in one motion, swept him up into a bridal carry. Sunday squealed, laughing, and began kissing his throat again. "You're lucky you're cute," he grumbled, and nudged him away enough to steal a kiss. "Let's not give the Luofu a private show, hmm? I'll let you do whatever you want once we get back to the hotel."

Sunday licked the sweat from his collarbone before biting him. "Promise?"

Welt squeezed his ass, laughing. "Promise."

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There was something almost amusing in the 1st Herrscher's defiance. Almost, because his defiance could get them both killed; while the loss of a body wouldn't hurt Otto, it would ruin his plans if Welt Yang died here. (And if anyone was going to kill the ridiculous man, it was going to be him.)

He was still not sure how they ended up in this situation to begin with. A splinter cell of World Serpent, perhaps- but with the Herrscher's power negated and Otto's solium body similarly suppressed, there was fuck all he could negotiate with save for a pretend promise to cooperate.

Behind him, bound to a chair, the Anti-Entropy Sovereign seethed. It was honestly kind of adorable. They'd beaten the shit out of him in the capture, and the pretty purple bruising only accentuated his high cheekbones and narrow, glowing eyes. "Otto," he warned. "Don't."

"We're willing to work with you, Apocalypse. On one condition." The leader leaned back in the shadows, his grin sharp as a viper's. "Give us one good reason you think you can control the Herrscher, and we'll let you go."

Otto pretended to muse over that, then turned and leaned over his rival. "Play along," he whispered, smirking, before grabbing Welt by the hair and kissing him.

Welt's eyes went wide. His body froze, his lips half-parted and trembling as Otto claimed him. Rough, bruising, complete domination- Otto bit his lower lip hard enough to draw blood, shoved his tongue inside, deep enough to make the younger man gag.

The mighty Sovereign whimpered. A pleased shiver ran down Otto's spine at the pitiful sound. "If you don't reciprocate, they'll kill you," he hissed under his breath as he ran his hands down to the other's bound wrists.

Welt made a broken little noise before nodding, once, closing his eyes and obediently parting his lips. This time he moved with him, letting Otto stake his claim with each harsh nip and lick. It was intoxicating, the softness of the Herrscher's lips and the skilled slide of tongue as he pressed into the kiss. What a shame that talent was being used on his hero's killer! The thought made Otto laugh into his mouth. 

The hatred in the Herrscher's eyes was scalding when he finally pulled away, softened only by the dampness of his lower lashes.

"Does that satisfy you?" Otto asked their captor as he licked his lips. "I'd offer to provide a more in-depth demonstration, but my pet here is a little shy. I'm sure you understand."

"...We'll trust you for now," the leader said, disgust thick in his voice. "Expect us to contact you in a few days."

The suppression flickered. Otto smirked and stepped aside as the ropes fell away from Welt's wrists. "Oh, I don't think that'll be necessary," he said as raging licks of red-purple gravity surged forward. The men began screaming as little black holes began to rip through them, tearing their atoms into shreds.

Soon, there was nothing left but them and the heavy silence.

"This never happened," Welt snarled as he spat on the ground.

Otto chuckled and slid a hand down Welt's arm, just to watch him flinch. "You can say that all you like," he said, "but we both know you'll be thinking about it. Don't feel bad. You were magnificent."

The muffled sob that followed was music to Otto's ears.

Chapter Text

Welt shuffles through the snow-laden grass, head bowed, quiet. Even with the world blanketed in white, he knows the route by heart. Can thread his way through the gravestones without looking.

It's better if he doesn't.

He stops, eventually, at one, and brushes the snow away with one cold hand.

Elias Nokianvirtanen, the stone reads. Beloved father, husband, friend. Four pitiful words to sum up a rich life.

"Hi, Dad," Welt says, his fingers tracing the carved name. "Long time no see."

There's no reply.

The grave is starting to show signs of weathering along the edges, as if time itself is trying to erase Elias's presence.

"You have a grandson now. Joffrey Joyce Yang." Welt laughs, a little, the sound as brittle as ice. "You'd love him. Hell, you'd probably spoil him rotten."

Beside that grave is a matching one. He lets the snow keep that one covered. The lettering is still faintly visible under it: Heinrich Yang. Beloved wife and mother. She would hate it, he knows. She was proud to be a wife. Proud of her scientific achievements.

Motherhood had been an afterthought.

She didn't cry when told of Elias's death, or so he heard. She asked about burial arrangements. She asked about a funeral. And once the arrangements were made, she hung herself in her laboratory.

Never once did she mention her son. Not in her arrangements. Not in her suicide note.

That was okay, though. It was. And he would keep telling himself that until he believed it.

(He'd been telling himself that for almost seventy years.)

He sinks down into the snow around his father's gravestone, ignoring the chill that seeps into him. "I'm scared. All the time. That something will happen to Joyce." Welt leans against the stone. "Is this what it was like for you? Raising me? Did you know what you were doing? Or were you like me and- floundering around trying to pretend?"

No answer.

"I wish I could ask you." The snow begins to fall again, heavy and wet. "I wish you were here."

Between the two larger stones is one laying flat against the ground. Welt traces the carved lettering, ignoring the feel of ice sliding down his cheeks.

Joachim Nokianvirtanen, it reads, and nothing more.

"Would you even recognize me now, Dad?"

Elias, murdered in the fight for New York. Heinrich, dead by her own hand. And Joachim, the necessary sacrifice.

"I miss you," Welt says to that little grave, where his childhood and innocence lays buried. "I miss being you."

He gets to his feet slowly, unsteadily, his body long grown numb.

"Keep Dad company, will you?"

There is, as ever, no answer.

Welt knows, as he walks away, that there never will be.

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